DC: A Cop in Gotham

Chapter 41: Not meant to fight, But…

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Dean hobbled toward the Batmobile, using his crutches for support, his body aching from the previous battle. As he approached, he saw Wonder Woman leaning casually against the car door, her posture relaxed yet composed, as if she were completely unaware of the weakness that came with losing her divine strength. Even stripped of her godly power, her presence remained as formidable as ever.

Dean let out a small breath before introducing himself. "Wonder Woman, I'm Officer Dean from the Gotham Police Department. Batman asked me to protect you, but from the looks of it, you don't seem like someone who needs a bodyguard."

Wonder Woman gave him a once-over, her keen blue eyes assessing him. "The will of the gods is always erratic. This is not the first time I've become a mortal," she said, her tone steady, yet laced with an undeniable resilience. "Being weak doesn't affect my fighting spirit in the slightest."

Her gaze lingered on Dean's injuries before she added, "On the other hand, you seem to have just come out of a grueling battle. I can tell—your mental state is on the verge of collapse. This is not a condition in which you should remain on a battlefield."

Dean chuckled bitterly, adjusting his grip on the crutches. The swastika's aftereffects had left his brain throbbing with an unbearable pressure, a constant swelling sensation that threatened to overwhelm him. The pain, at least, was manageable—but the dizziness, the light-headedness that struck at random, made it impossible for him to fight effectively.

"It wouldn't make a difference even if I were in peak condition," he admitted with a wry smile. "This is a literal war between gods and demons over there."

And he wasn't exaggerating.

From where they stood, the battle between Doctor Fate and the demonized Groudon, now fully infused with Trigon's power, was beyond anything a human—or even an enhanced metahuman—could hope to intervene in. The sky above them was a chaotic swirl of magic and destruction. Doctor Fate's spells clashed against Groudon's hellish energy, sending shockwaves of pure power rippling through the battlefield.

Magic of various attributes erupted in bursts of color—flames, lightning, ice—each leaving massive scars on Groudon's colossal form. And yet, despite the Justice League's best efforts, none of their attacks seemed to inflict any real damage on the demon-infused beast.

In truth, none of these spells could harm Trigon himself.

Doctor Fate wasn't even trying to destroy Groudon's body; his goal was something far greater—to sever Trigon's connection to it entirely. Without a physical form to anchor his influence, Trigon would be left weakened, rootless, vulnerable. It was a sound strategy, one that might have worked…

If only Trigon allowed it.

A sinister laugh rumbled through the battlefield, echoing like thunder.

"You know you can't stop me, Nabu," Trigon's voice boomed from within Groudon's form, a deep, otherworldly growl that resonated through the earth itself. "Because you are a loser."

Green flames—the fire of Hell itself—coiled around Groudon's massive frame, forcing Doctor Fate to retreat, buying the demon enough time to unleash his next attack.

"I still have the body of a true god," Trigon continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, "but you? The only thing you have is a mortal magician."

Then, with a flick of his clawed hand, Groudon unleashed a Solar Beam.

A beam of pure, scorching energy erupted from his maw, aimed directly at Doctor Fate.

Nabu reacted instantly. He raised his hands, summoning the Divine Shield of Order, a shimmering golden barrier designed to block even the most powerful magical attacks.

But the Solar Beam wasn't ordinary magic.

It tore through the Divine Shield like it was made of paper, striking Doctor Fate's helmet dead-on. The Helmet of Fate, one of the most powerful magical artifacts in existence, glowed red-hot as the heat surged through it.

Then—BOOM!

Doctor Fate was blasted into the ocean, the impact sending steam and mist rising into the air, shrouding the battlefield in a thick, blinding fog.

For a long moment, nothing moved.

Then, with an eerie calm, Trigon turned away.

He didn't even bother to finish off Doctor Fate.

To him, Nabu was irrelevant. Killing this particular host meant nothing—another would simply take his place.

No… if Trigon truly wanted to destroy Nabu, he would have to bring his true form into this world. And for that, he needed more power.

The power of the ocean.

The power of Manaphy.

Zatanna raised both hands, summoning a wave of freezing magic. With a swift motion, she directed a large amount of crushed ice into the ocean, rapidly cooling the steaming water where Doctor Fate had fallen. The chilling effect spread outward, forming a thin layer of frost across the surface, preventing further evaporation and allowing her to locate her father more easily.

Then, with a careful flick of her fingers, she used a controlled burst of magic to lift Doctor Fate into the air, pulling his unconscious form toward her.

As his body rose above the water, he coughed violently, steam still rising from his burnt cloak. His once-pristine red cape was now riddled with holes, the fabric singed at the edges. His normally imposing golden helmet was scorched a deep vermillion, radiating residual heat from the devastating Solar Beam he had endured.

"Ahem…" Doctor Fate's voice was hoarse as he weakly raised his head, his breathing labored. His magical energy was all but depleted, his body struggling to withstand the overwhelming damage he had suffered. "Nabu… underestimated the power... of Trigon…"

Zatanna's heart clenched at his words, but before she could speak, he continued. "No… that wasn't just Trigon's power… That was Groudon's strength, fully corrupted by Hellfire. Nabu misjudged the sheer force of the two beings combined… and now, because of that arrogance, he has been severely wounded… and forced into a deep sleep."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words was undeniable.

Zatanna gritted her teeth. "Stop talking, father. You're seriously injured."

She quickly placed her hands over his burns, channeling healing magic into him. A soft white light radiated from her fingertips, surrounding Doctor Fate's wounds as she attempted to mend them. But despite her best efforts, the injuries remained stubbornly unchanged.

Zatanna was an exceptionally skilled sorceress, hailing from one of the most powerful magical bloodlines in history. But while she excelled in many aspects of magic, healing was not her specialty. Her talents did not extend to restorative spells, making it difficult for her to treat wounds as severe as these.

Still, she refused to give up.

Doctor Fate, however, barely acknowledged his own pain. He gripped Zatanna's wrist with what little strength he had left, his urgency overriding his suffering. "No, Zatanna… I am not what's important right now."

Zatanna's eyes widened. "What?"

Doctor Fate took a shallow, shaky breath before speaking again.

"If Trigon succeeds in gathering the original power of the earth and the ocean, then all things that are deeply connected to those forces will inevitably fall under his influence." His voice grew weaker, but his desperation was clear.

"The gathering of the three sources of power… will be enough for him to summon his true form into this world."

Zatanna's stomach dropped.

She understood exactly what that meant.

Trigon was already terrifying in his current state, controlling Groudon and wreaking havoc upon the battlefield. But if he fully manifested in his true form, his power would be limitless. It wouldn't just be a war between gods and demons—it would be the end of everything.

Doctor Fate's grip on her hand tightened slightly, as if trying to convey the full weight of his warning. "Go and stop Trigon… Don't let him claim the power of the ocean."

He forced himself to finish his plea.

"Don't… let him get Manaphy."

With those final words, his body went limp.

His golden helmet lost its glow as Naboo's consciousness faded into silence, and Doctor Fate fell unconscious in Zatanna's arms.

Panic surged through her as she held onto him, her hands shaking. "Dad?! Dad, wake up!"

But there was no response.

Her breath hitched, but she didn't have time to break down. She quickly turned and sprinted toward the only person she knew could help.

Batman.

She ran across the battlefield, dodging debris and stray bursts of magical energy as she carried her father toward the Dark Knight.

When she reached him, her voice trembled with urgency. "Bruce—save my father! He's dying!"

In her desperation, she didn't even realize she had called Batman by his real name.

Batman stiffened at the sound of it, momentarily caught off guard. But he recovered quickly, his sharp mind immediately assessing the situation. Without hesitation, he reached into his utility belt, pulling out a specialized cardiotonic injection.

He didn't waste a second.

With practiced precision, he jabbed the injection into Doctor Fate's waist, releasing the life-saving stimulant into his bloodstream.

The effect was immediate—Doctor Fate's breathing stabilized, his pulse returning to a normal rhythm. He was still unconscious, but alive.

Batman remained focused, his expression unreadable as he finished the emergency treatment. He showed no resentment toward Doctor Fate for his earlier actions against the Justice League—there was no time for grudges in a war like this.

Zatanna, still shaken, swallowed hard before asking the question she dreaded. "My father failed… Do we still have a way to kill Trigon?"

Batman's jaw tightened. His mind was already running through countless strategies, but none of them offered a clear path to victory.

Zatanna clenched her fists. "I'll find a way to go to Outer space—I'll bring Superman back. That's the only chance we have."

Her voice was filled with determination, but even she knew the odds were against them.

Before Batman could respond, she pleaded, "Until then… don't let Trigon get the Ocean Blue. Please."

Batman exhaled sharply, forcing himself to suppress the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He hated relying on uncertain variables—waiting for Superman, leaving the fate of the battle to something outside of his control—it went against every instinct he had.

But he didn't have a choice.

If Superman was their only hope, then he had to hold the line until he returned.

Even if it meant facing Trigon alone.

Batman's eyes hardened. His willpower was unshakable, his resolve absolute.

"Leave it to me."

He turned his gaze toward the battlefield, where the fight still raged on. His grip on his cape tightened.

"I'll hold the line until Superman comes back."

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"Doctor Fate failed."

Wonder Woman's eyes followed the sinking form of Doctor Fate, his body barely floating as the sea hissed with residual heat from the devastating battle. Though his powerful magic had once seemed unshakable, he had still fallen against the overwhelming might of Trigon and Groudon. Her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened, frustration simmering beneath her calm exterior. Even with her battle-hardened spirit, the reality of their situation was Impossible to ignore—they were losing.

She exhaled, pushing the thought away. There was no time for doubt.

As she turned, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision. At first, it was just a limping shadow against the smoke-covered battlefield, but when she focused, she saw Dean, moving with difficulty as he pushed forward toward the shore. His crutches dug into the wet ground with every step, his posture rigid with determination. Despite the clear pain in his movements, he refused to stop.

Wonder Woman's brow furrowed as she moved toward him in a blur of speed. Before he could take another step, she grabbed his arm, halting his advance.

Her voice was firm, though not unkind. "Don't do anything reckless."

Dean didn't flinch under her gaze. Instead, he straightened his shoulders as much as his injuries allowed and met her eyes head-on. His voice was unwavering.

"I'm not doing anything reckless. I'm going to find my partner—Manaphy."

A flicker of understanding crossed Wonder Woman's face, but Dean wasn't done. His expression hardened with urgency.

"She's Ocean Blue itself. Trigon is going after her."

The weight of his words settled between them. Dean wasn't under the illusion that he could protect Manaphy on his own. He knew his limits—he was injured, exhausted, and vastly outmatched against the forces of hell itself. But none of that mattered. If Manaphy was in danger, then he had to be there. Not because he could stop Trigon. Not because he could fight. But because she wouldn't be alone. Even if he couldn't protect her, at the very least, he could stand beside her.

For a brief moment, Wonder Woman studied him in silence. Then, she finally spoke.

"Manaphy and Groudon come from the same world?"

Dean nodded without hesitation.

Her grip on her sword relaxed slightly. "Then perhaps she can defeat her demonized companion."

There was a glimmer of hope in her words. A possible solution, a sliver of an advantage they hadn't considered before. If Manaphy was tied to the same world as Groudon, then perhaps she held a power that could counter his transformation.

But Dean's response was immediate.

"I'm sorry, Wonder Woman." His voice was quiet but absolute.

"Manaphy is not as powerful as you think."

The reality of the situation settled over them. Manaphy wasn't a warrior like Wonder Woman. She wasn't a god like Groudon. She wasn't even a fighter in the traditional sense.

She was something else.

Dean's mind drifted back to the moment he first met her—the way she moved, the way she felt so different from everything else in this chaotic world.

"Her power isn't meant for fighting," he admitted. "She was born to connect with others, to communicate and understand—not to battle."

The words hung in the air between them.

Then—

Dean's eyes widened.

He had been thinking about Manaphy—about what she was meant to be.

But then, he remembered something else.

The Omnitrix.

The very device strapped to his wrist.

The core purpose of the Omnitrix had never been combat. Its original function wasn't to fight. It was meant to promote understanding. To bridge the gap between species. To allow individuals to experience life from another's perspective.

And yet—

That same device had become the strongest weapon in the universe. A tool meant for peace had become an instrument of war.

And perhaps—

Perhaps the same could be true for Manaphy.

Dean's pulse quickened. His breath came faster as Poison Ivy's words rang in his mind.

"Manaphy—that child is the key."

Could it be…?

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

His hesitation disappeared.

Without another word, Dean turned on his heel and sprinted toward the battlefield. His injuries screamed in protest, his muscles burning with exhaustion, but he didn't care. He had to find Manaphy.

But before he could take another step, Wonder Woman moved.

With a swift, effortless motion, she reached out and blocked his path.

Dean stumbled back, barely stopping himself from falling. His voice was urgent, almost desperate. "Don't stop me, Wonder Woman! I've figured something out—I just need to—"

But before he could finish—

Wonder Woman turned toward the Batmobile, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"I'm not trying to stop you."

Dean blinked in confusion. "What?"

She stepped back, then—with effortless grace—jumped onto the Batmobile.

She landed with ease, resting against the vehicle as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Then, she looked at him.

And whistled.

A teasing glint danced in her eyes as she tilted her head toward the passenger seat.

"I remember that all the boys in the Justice League wanted to ride in Batman's car."

Her smirk widened slightly.

"What about you? Do you want to run around with me?"

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