NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: New Life
I wake up to gray sunlight filtering through my blinds. Typical Gotham morning - even the sun looks depressed here.
Rolling out of bed, I stretch and take stock of my situation. First full day in Batman's city. Time to make it count.
"Alright, Samael," I mutter to myself as I head for the shower. "Today's goals: find out more about this place, maybe get a job, and try not to get killed by some costumed psychopath."
After cleaning up, I stare at my reflection - white hair, red eyes. Still jarring to see a stranger's face looking back at me.
A young face, too. Despite my twenty years of mental experience, my body appears to be around sixteen.
The "genetic condition" excuse might work for casual conversations, but I'll need something more convincing for anything official, especially to explain why a teenager is living alone.
I dress in clothes I find in the wardrobe - dark jeans, gray shirt, black jacket. The jacket sleeve covers the Ultimatrix nicely while still letting me reach it quickly if needed.
Perfect for blending into Gotham's perpetually gloomy aesthetic.
Before heading out, I decide to search the apartment more thoroughly. Yesterday was a blur of shock and adjustment, and I might have missed something important.
I start with the obvious places - drawers, closets, under the bed - before moving to less conventional hiding spots.
Behind the bathroom mirror, I find nothing. The kitchen cabinets yield only dishes and food.
But when I check the desk in the living room more carefully, I notice something odd about the bottom drawer. It doesn't pull out as far as it should based on the desk's dimensions.
"Hello, what's this?" I mutter, feeling along the back of the drawer.
My fingers find a small latch. When I press it, a hidden compartment at the back of the drawer pops open, revealing a manila envelope.
Inside, I find a complete set of official documents. Birth certificate for Samael Morningstar, born in Coast City sixteen years ago.
Social security card. Student ID from Gotham Academy. Emancipation papers granting me legal adult status despite my age, citing "exceptional intellectual development and familial circumstances."
Medical records documenting my supposed genetic condition - tyrosinase-negative oculocutaneous albinism with erythema iridis, complete with doctor's notes and treatment history.
There's also a letter of acceptance to a special internship program at Gotham Scientific Innovations, part of a "gifted youth initiative" sponsored by the Wayne Foundation, offering a stipend that explains my financial independence.
A bank statement shows an account in my name at Gotham National Bank with a healthy balance.
I stare at the documents, stunned. "This confirms it. I had my suspicions already with the ID, but this wasn't some random accident," I whisper to the empty apartment. "Whatever brought me here planned this. Set everything up."
I spend the next hour studying the documents, committing key details to memory. According to these records, I was raised by a single mother who died in a car accident last year.
Due to my exceptional test scores and academic achievements, I was granted emancipated minor status rather than being placed in foster care.
I've been accepted to Gotham University's early admission program for the following year, but am currently completing an internship at GSI as part of my pre-college preparation.
The medical records explain my appearance in convincing scientific terminology, describing it as an extremely rare genetic condition affecting pigmentation and iris coloration.
There are even notes about special contact lenses I supposedly tried but couldn't tolerate.
After memorizing the essential details, I return most of the documents to the hidden compartment, keeping only what I might need today - ID, bank card, emancipation certificate copy, and the GSI keycard I found in my wallet yesterday.
"Time to see if these are as real as they look," I say, pocketing the items and heading out.
Outside, Gotham hits me with its unique vibe - part ancient gloom, part urban decay. Gothic buildings tower overhead, complete with gargoyles that seem to be watching me.
Below, homeless people huddle in alleys while businesspeople hurry past without looking at them. The contrast is striking, even in this middle-class area.
My first stop is Gotham National Bank. I need to verify that the account actually exists and that I can access it.
The bank is an imposing stone building downtown, its architecture matching Gotham's Gothic aesthetic.
Inside, I approach a teller and present my ID and bank card. "I'd like to check my balance and withdraw some cash, please."
The teller, a middle-aged woman with a practiced smile, glances at my ID and then at me with a slightly startled expression.
Her eyes linger on my white hair and red eyes before she composes herself. "Do you have your emancipation documentation, Mr. Morningstar? Bank policy for minors with individual accounts."
I produce the copy of the emancipation certificate. "Of course."
She examines it, then nods professionally, though I notice her continued glances at my unusual appearance. "Thank you. Your current balance is $12,450.32. How much would you like to withdraw today?"
"Two hundred, please."
As she processes the transaction, I can tell she's curious about my appearance but too professional to ask.
It's the normal reaction I'd expect - my condition is strange but apparently explainable enough by the medical records to be accepted, if still remarkable, since it isn't normal albinism.
My hair sometimes in the light lights up gently, like its glowing.
After completing the transaction, I leave the bank with a growing sense of wonder at how thoroughly my arrival in this universe was prepared.
Something went to extraordinary lengths to establish my identity here.
I stop at a corner store and buy a newspaper - the Gotham Gazette - and a coffee. The cashier does a double-take at my appearance but says nothing beyond the price.
The front page has more about the Joker's escape, saying Batman was spotted in the Narrows overnight. No mention of whether he caught the clown.
Other headlines give me a better picture of what's happening: Mayor Hill facing corruption charges (shocking in Gotham, I know), Wayne Enterprises stock up after some clean energy announcement, and the GCPD implementing new security after a series of breakouts.
Sipping my coffee, I pull out my phone and search for Gotham Scientific Innovations.
Not much comes up - small research company focusing on experimental physics and advanced materials. Their address is in Burnley, near the university.
Not too far from here.
"Might as well check out my supposed internship," I decide. If the documents and bank account are real, chances are the position is legitimate too.
The walk to Burnley takes me through increasingly nicer areas. The buildings get cleaner, the streets better maintained.
I pass university students hurrying to class, professors in tweed jackets, and police cars that cruise by without the urgency I noticed in the East End.
Gotham University is impressive - all Gothic spires and arches that look more like a European cathedral than a school. Next to it is a cluster of research buildings where I find the address for GSI.
The building is nothing special - six stories of gray stone and glass with minimal signage. I approach the entrance, where a security guard sits behind a desk watching several monitors.
"Good morning," I say, showing my keycard. "Samael Morningstar. I'm here for the Wayne Foundation internship program."
The guard glances at the card, then at me with visible surprise at my appearance. "Yes, Mr. Morningstar. Dr. Chen mentioned a new intern would be starting today. Fifteenth floor, suite 1520."
"Thank you," I reply, noticing how his eyes linger on my white hair and red eyes. I'm kind of getting tired of it.
Can't people just stop staring?
In the elevator, I consider my approach. Someone named Dr. Chen is expecting me?
Do they know me?
If they do then this level of preparation is beyond incredible.
They would have to have the ability to not only pull me from my own reality into this one, but also alter people's memories on a global scale.
Suite 1520 turns out to be a small but well-equipped lab. Fancy computers line one wall, with scientific equipment filling the center of the room.
Large windows show a view of the university campus and Wayne Tower in the distance.
A woman in her fifties looks up from a computer as I enter. Her gray-streaked hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and she wears a lab coat over business clothes. Her eyes widen slightly at my appearance, but she recovers quickly.
Again? I'm really contemplating dying my hair black right now...
"Mr. Morningstar, I presume," she says, standing to greet me. "I'm Dr. Mei Chen, head of special projects. The Wayne Foundation sent over your file yesterday."
I shake her hand, trying to look confident. "Dr. Chen. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Your... condition was mentioned in your file," she says, addressing my appearance directly but tactfully.
"Quite a remarkable case. And your academic achievements are equally impressive for someone your age."
"Thank you," I say, unsure how else to respond.
"Most of our interns are university students, but your case is... exceptional." She gestures to a workstation.
"You'll be assisting primarily on Project Nexus - examining the theoretical framework for cross-dimensional energy transfer.
Given your background in advanced physics, I believe you'll find it stimulating."
I almost laugh at the irony. Cross-dimensional research? Really? That's a bit on the nose given my situation.
"The team is small," Dr. Chen continues. "Just myself, Dr. Patel who's currently at a conference in Metropolis, and a few graduate assistants.
You'll report directly to me rather than through the usual internship coordinator."
I nod as if this makes sense. "I appreciate the opportunity, Dr. Chen."
"Your living situation is stable? The Wayne Foundation mentioned you're an emancipated minor."
"Yes, everything's fine," I assure her. "I have an apartment in the East End."
She frowns slightly. "Not the safest neighborhood for someone your age. Perhaps we should look into-"
"I can take care of myself," I interrupt, more firmly than intended. "But thank you for your concern."
She studies me for a moment, then nods. "Very well. Let me show you around."
The tour shows me a surprisingly well-funded setup for such a small team. Besides the main lab, there's a materials testing room, a secure server room, and even a small apartment-like space with a cot and kitchenette "for those late research nights."
Throughout the tour, I notice how other researchers glance at me with curiosity. My appearance clearly stands out, but the official explanation seems to satisfy most people after their initial surprise.
Which is still weird to me.
There is literally a man-plant who can laser beam entire planets into dust, and a guy with red eyes and white hair - virtually glowing or not, is something that really surprises you?
In a place like Gotham at that with abominati-
Okay, I kinda get it now. Maybe they're too traumatised by abnormal looking individuals...
By the time Dr. Chen leaves me at my workstation to "get settled," my head is spinning with implications.
Someone has created an elaborate cover for me - complete with emancipation papers, educational history, and an internship researching cross-dimensional energy.
The coincidence is too perfect to be random.
I start looking through the research files on my tablet and find them filled with complex equations and theoretical models that, strangely enough, I begin to understand.
It's as if the knowledge has been planted in my mind along with the identity and is slowly resurfacing.
As I dig deeper into Project Nexus, I discover its true purpose: creating a stable gateway between dimensions.
The theory seems sound, if ambitious, mixing quantum physics with concepts I recognize from various sci-fi universes.
Hours pass as I absorb the information, occasionally making notes or adjusting equations that seem incomplete.
The work is actually fascinating, and I find myself genuinely engaged despite the weird circumstances.
Around midday, Dr. Chen stops by my workstation. "How are you finding everything, Mr. Morningstar?"
"Intriguing," I reply honestly. "The approach to quantum tunneling is particularly innovative."
She nods, looking pleased. "I'm glad you think so. Would you like to join me for lunch? The café downstairs has decent food, and it would give us a chance to discuss your role in more detail."
I accept, and we head to a small café on the ground floor. As we eat, Dr. Chen asks about my background, clearly testing whether I match the information in my file.
I stick to the cover story, describing my education and the circumstances that led to my emancipation. She listens with interest, occasionally glancing at my unusual appearance.
"Your condition is quite fascinating from a genetic perspective," she says finally. "I hope you don't mind my scientific curiosity."
"Not at all," I reply. "I've had to get used to the attention."
"I imagine so. Well, I believe you'll fit in well at GSI, Mr. Morningstar. Your unique perspective may be exactly what Project Nexus needs."
After lunch, I return to the lab and continue working until evening. The research is complex but engaging, and I make good progress on understanding the existing models.
Dr. Chen seems impressed with my work, though I'm really just applying the knowledge that somehow came with this new identity.
"Don't stay too late," she advises as she prepares to leave. "You teenagers need proper rest, no matter how brilliant you are."
After she leaves, I work for another hour before deciding to head back to my apartment. Walking through Gotham as the light fades gives me a different view of the city.
The shadows grow longer, the gargoyles more menacing. People move faster, eyes alert, aware that night in Gotham brings dangers beyond normal crime.
I'm about halfway home when I hear a scream from a nearby alley. My first instinct is to keep walking - I'm still learning the rules here, still not sure about using the Ultimatrix openly.
But the scream comes again, desperate and pained.
I pause at the alley entrance, looking into the gloom. Three men surround a young woman, one gripping her arm while another holds a knife. A mugging, or worse.
"Hey!" I call out before I can think better of it. "Let her go."
The men turn, sizing me up. The one with the knife laughs. "Look, it's a kid. Walk away, freak, before you get hurt."
I step into the alley, keeping my hands visible but ready to access the Ultimatrix if necessary. "I'm making it my business. Let her go, and we can all walk away from this."
"You see this guy?" Knife-man says to his friends. "White hair, red eyes... probably one of those Arkham freaks. Maybe he's friends with the Bat."
"I'm not from Arkham," I say calmly, continuing to approach. "And I'm not with Batman. I'm just someone who thinks three against one isn't very sporting."
The third man, bigger than the others and wearing a leather jacket, steps forward. "Then let's make it three against two. More sporting that way."
I quickly assess the situation. The woman looks terrified but unhurt so far. The men are just common thugs, not costumed villains or trained fighters.
I could probably handle them without the Ultimatrix, but that would mean showing my enhanced physical abilities.
Before I can decide, Leather Jacket lunges at me with a wild punch. I sidestep easily - the moment I decided to fight they just... slowed down - and counter with a measured strike to his solar plexus.
He doubles over, gasping.
Knife-man comes next, slashing wildly. I dodge the first swing, block his arm on the second, and twist until he drops the weapon.
A quick knee to the stomach puts him on the ground next to his friend.
The third man releases the woman and backs away, hands raised. "Hey, man, we didn't know you were... whatever you are. No hard feelings, right?"
"Go," I tell him, then look at the woman. "Are you alright?"
She nods, clutching her purse tightly, staring at me with a mixture of gratitude and unease at my appearance. "Thank you. I... I should have known better than to take this shortcut.
I just wanted to get home fast from work since it was getting dark..." she mutters at the end.
"Let me walk you somewhere safer," I offer.
As we exit the alley, leaving the groaning assailants behind, she introduces herself as Emily, a nurse at Gotham General heading home after a double shift.
We make small talk as I walk her to a busier street where she can safely catch a taxi, though I notice how she keeps glancing at my white hair and red eyes.
"You're new to Gotham, aren't you?" she asks as we wait for a cab.
"That obvious?"
She smiles slightly. "Most Gothamites wouldn't get involved. They'd call the police, maybe, but walking into an alley to confront muggers?
That's either new-in-town bravery or exceptional foolishness."
"Maybe a bit of both," I admit.
"Well, thank you. Not everyone would help a stranger." A taxi pulls up, and she opens the door.
"Be careful in this city. It has a way of changing people, and not always for the better. Especially someone your age."
After she leaves, I continue my walk home, more alert now to the city's shifting atmosphere as night fully descends.
The encounter was minor by Gotham standards - no supervillains, no elaborate schemes, just common criminals - but it reinforces the reality of where I am.
I reach my apartment building without further incident, nodding to a couple of residents in the lobby who give me curious glances before heading upstairs.
As I approach my door, I notice Mr. Finch exiting his apartment.
"Ah, Mr. Morningstar. How was your day?" he asks pleasantly.
"Educational," I reply. "I started an internship at a research facility near Gotham University today."
"Impressive! You must be quite talented for someone so young." He studies me with kind but perceptive eyes. "You seem remarkably self-sufficient. When you mentioned you'd just moved in, I assumed you were a university student."
"I'm emancipated," I explain, sticking to my cover story. "My mother passed away last year."
His expression softens. "I'm sorry to hear that. It can't be easy, being on your own at your age. If you ever need anything - advice, a home-cooked meal, or just someone to talk to - my door is always open."
"Thank you, Mr. Finch. I appreciate that. And thank you again for the lasagna. It was excellent."
"My pleasure. Perhaps you'll join me for dinner sometime. An old man gets lonely, and I enjoy good conversation."
I agree to the invitation and bid him goodnight before entering my apartment. Once inside, I check that everything is as I left it, then lock the door and windows - habits that seem smart in this city.
As I make a simple dinner from the kitchen supplies, I think about the day's developments. I now have a confirmed identity, an internship, and the beginning of a social network.
I've also confirmed that my physical abilities are enhanced.
The thoroughness of my setup in this world is astonishing.
Could it be the Omniversal Observation System? Or is there another force at work? Whatever it is, the power required to create such a complete integration is staggering.
After eating, I spend some time researching souls on my tablet, finding limited information but enough to begin basic meditation exercises that might help me access that part of my Anodite heritage.
The idea of developing mana manipulation abilities alongside the Ultimatrix transformations is intriguing, especially if it could strengthen my soul against Zs'skayr's influence.
As midnight approaches, I get ready for bed, setting my tablet aside after one final check of local news.
No mention of Batman capturing the Joker yet. No reports of a white-haired, red-eyed teenager stopping a mugging.
My presence in Gotham hasn't drawn any special attention beyond the normal reactions to my unusual appearance.
That's good. Anonymity is safety, at least for now.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges, but I've made a solid start. I have shelter, income, and a believable cover story. I'm learning the rhythm of this strange city and the rules of this new reality.
Most importantly, I'm adapting. In a world of Bats and Jokers, of interdimensional forces and mysterious preparations, adaptation may be my greatest asset.
As I drift toward sleep, I wonder about the Omniversal Observation System and how it in a few hours will reconnect me with Azula, Light, and Aizen.
What will I tell them about my first full day in Gotham? What will they share about their own worlds? And how much of what any of us says will be the truth?
Yet, soon enough darkness begins taking hold, and I fall into slumber - deciding that I'll deal with it after getting some rest.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
What do you think, have I set things up well enough for him?
So yeah, do tell me how you found it, as well as who you want him to end up with.
Keep in mind - this Samael will want to change the world for the better and may in the end become a king, so it needs to be someone who accepts that.
So yeah, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)