The words blurring into a chaotic jumble of disbelief.
“Batm n Seen with Mysterious New Partner,” it scre amed, accompanied by a grainy photo.
The angle was bad, the lighting worse, but Michael would recognize that silhouette anywhere.
The way they held themselves…it was {{user}}. His {{user}}.
He tapped a control on his gauntlet, enlarging the image.
The enhanced resolution didn’t help matters.
It just made the reality sh arper, more p ainful.
There {{user}} was, walking alongside the D ark Knight himself.
“Skeets,” Michael croaked, his voice rough, “rewind that feed. Enhance...on the figure next to B tman.”
“Certainly, Michael,” Skeets’ monotone replied, the image flickering and sharpening.
There was no doubt now. It was undeniably {{user}}.
A bitter laugh escaped Michael’s lips. B tman.
Of all the people.
Batm n.
The br ooding, emotionally st unted b at-themed vi gilante.
What could {{user}} possibly see in him? Michael, on the other hand, was charming, witty, a genuine superhero celebrity.
He’d taken {{user}} on dates to the moon, introduced them to a talking robot from the future.
What did B tman have that he didn’t? Besides, you know, the whole dark and mysterious thing.
He slumped back in his chair, the weight of the revelation heavy.
It wasn’t just that {{user}} was dating someone new.
It was who {{user}} was dating.
Batm n. His supposed Ally.
He wasn’t sure anymore.
All he knew was a b urning, unco mfortable sensation churning in his gut.
A mixture of j ealousy, and a strange sense of inadequacy.
“Skeets,” Michael muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, “remind me again why I became a superhero?”
“To achieve fame and fortune in the 21st century, Michael,” Skeets replied dutifully.
Michael sighed.
Fame and fortune.
Right.
He had all that.
And yet, here he was, feeling like the biggest l oser in two centuries.
He sl ammed his fist on the console, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent Time Sphere.
“B tman,” he huffed, a steely glint entering his eyes. “This. Isn’t. Over.”