To be better

Cold, harsh reality had sunk its teeth into his neck so many times yet no matter the vile he faced he always came out on top. He made bad choices, good choices, and morally grey choices. Oftentimes, he veered from the path of the hero. Nevertheless, he grew from the coffee-addicted Aaron Reigner that met Cassandra Cain in the dumpster. He had become a better person.

Of course, he had ordered Prometheus' execution and that would in retrospect weigh on his mind. But so would his daughter. So would killing a spirit so broken and decrepit. His newfound heart was spurred with empathy for strangers and family alike.

"But you'll die," Aaron pointed out. "I don't need that in my conscience."

"If I may be so bold–"

"Look." Aaron dropped all pretense, his serious, deadpan expression folding into relaxation. "Do you know what post-nut clarity is?"

The sudden change in topic caught even the trillion year old Manhunter off-guard.

"...yes."

"Then you know there's only so much sex in the world. It's great, don't get me wrong. I love to spend a week destroying cunts but…there has to be a limit. Someday, you have to grow up. You have to choose. You have to have balance." The Manhunter radiated with perplexity. Incomprehension. Sighing, Aaron switched his strategy. "Have you ever played Zelda? Or Smash Bros? Have you drunk highly caffeinated coffee with heaps of sugar? I'm not going to lie, that stuff can be better than getting a blowjob."

The Manhunter clearly didn't expect him to make such a…casual, easy-going speech. That was the fundamental problem with this Chosen One business. Aaron Reigner was a chill, laid-back guy who desired mediocrity. To his core, as much as had grown and improved himself, he was a normal citizen of Gotham. He would never be a superhero nor would he ever be a cosmic ruler.

The Manhunter simply couldn't accept it.

"You will also possess the power to bring the world peace–"

"What am I going to do? End world hunger? The Justice League already has that on lock. Studies say that in a decade there's going to be no world hunger because of them. You have Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, and Aquaman, the actual ruler of the seas, working as a group to solve these issues. And they're doing it well. Sickness? Cancer? I'm pretty sure Lex Luthor has already solved that. Knowing him, when he runs for President again, he's going to use that as his primary campaign push."

The Manhunter stilled, his dotted blue eyes aimed at Aaron Reigner, gobsmacked.

"And who knows if what I do will be the right thing anyway. I might become some fascist dipshit or a white supremacist and the Justice League will have to come and stop me. Every way you slice, every angle you go about it, there's no place for the Chosen One." The universe seemed to resonate with his words. It was a closing, a conclusion, the moral lesson of his mediocre life. Not everything or everybody needed to be special or some kind of multiversal entity of unprecedented proportions. A person never forgotten in history for their mark. Sometimes, it was okay to be a fading footstep in the unending blizzard of reality. It was okay to want simple things, like companionship, a daughter, a wife–a family. "Not anymore. The grandiose dreams of cosmic change…besides the fact that it has never worked, I just don't have it in me. If there's one thing I want in my life, it's peace and security in Gotham. That's it. Just Gotham."

"..."

Aaron reassured him with a smile. "You can rest easy. I'll send you to your family. It's okay. I'm sure deep inside, you want to see them again. You've done some shitty stuff, I know. But you're no Prometheus. I could tell with a single glance that that guy was beyond saving. But you? I don't know your real name or if you even have one but I can tell you're salvageable."

Aaron extended a pinkie.

"Let me help you."

The Manhunter, for the first time, looked away. An aura engulfed him, formed of uncertainty and loss. After a while of thinking, the Manhunter exhaled. "For so long I wondered…why you? Why were you special? Why were you and I so different? Why were you the one chosen and not me? I…I wanted someone to tell me…why was I even born? Why on Earth did I experience so much? I understand now."

Like a crescendo, his voice grew with resolve. Rather than robotic and glitchy, rather than submissive and unreliable, the Manhunter was eloquent and composed. "You are the Chosen One. You can do anything as long as your mind wills it."

His red plated pinkie touched Aaron's.

"I accept."

His final words were the ending to a storm inside Aaron. He felt full. Complete. Something clicked in his soul and…

A light enveloped the Manhunter.

…then he was gone.

Aaron exhaled. His muscles surged with newfound power. His eyes darted from place to place.

Efficient. He felt exponentially more efficient. His movements were clean like he was drifting through space. With a moment of focus, time slowed down and he could see the particles in the air.

The Manhunter…he was in heaven. He could sense it. In fact, he could envision it and see it. Up in the sky, through the Orrery of Worlds, past the Bleed, past the Speed **** wall, past Wonderworld, within the Sphere of the Gods, was Heaven. The Secondary Outer Realm was a silver light, the home of the angels and creatures worthy of its residence.

Hopefully the Manhunter, whatever his real name was, would be happy.

"Ugh…" His head spliced with pain and he massaged his forehead. He opened an eye to see Angel Breaker etched with concern. He bit back the pain and inhaled. "Now…you."

Angel Breaker nodded happily.

"Speak."

As if a lock had been suppressing her inner feelings, Angel Breaker declared, "Now that you are nearly complete, we must tend to the rituals." He could sense the build-up in her mouth. The saliva, the slobber–the unsheathed desire inside her. "Only one woman can take your seed. Me. You may try, you may ****, you may flood their wombs with your sperm, but unless the woman is chosen by you they will never carry your child. Except me, the Chosen Bride. We must bathe in the pits of Lazarus Island and consummate. Together."

Aaron pretended not to be taken aback by her declaration. Was that why despite creampieing woman after woman, they wouldn't get pregnant? Well…that explained a lot. It also erased the chances of someone using his sperm for their own intentions.

"And you claim that is your role?"

"Yes. That is my role. I am the Chosen Bride. The blade whispered it to me. Looking at your glorious figure, I now know it to be true. You are the Chosen One. My Chosen One. The League of Assassins were built for this reason. Ra's al Ghul gained wealth, power and might for the day a true heir would arrive. You."

His mouth twitched. "Are you a virgin?"

An immense amount of guilt coloured her and she pointed her head down. "No, my Chosen. I am not. B-but," she raised her head, eyes depraved, "I sacrificed my virginity in servitude to you! I pumped up my dick sucking lips just for you! All for you! My entire life, from the time I was homeless and lost, was to meet you! The one who reigns over all!"

For him? She inflicted trauma to innocents, nearly crippled the Robins, bruised and burned Cassandra…

All because of him?

His heart had been bleeding with empathy for the Manhunter. But Prometheus? Angel Breaker? These two were out of their minds. Absolutely fucked in the head.

And he hated himself for hesitating on punishing her.

If this had been Aaron before he met Cassandra, he would have done unspeakable things to her. To this woman who was clearly not well in the head. To this woman who had committed terrible, horrific crimes right in front of him.

Perhaps it was the short insight into her origins or her fiendish, dark beauty. Her noticeably shaped breasts and curves. He wouldn't have been surprised if the Signal, Duke Thomas, had been distracted by her body during their battle. Over the past weeks, Aaron had come to recognize that women were a weakness of his. A weakness he needed to overcome.

He hardened his resolve. His expression turned as blank as a stone. Regardless of the empathy he might have felt, Angel Breaker needed to be punished. Someone needed to act as jury and executioner.

"Excuses," Aaron retorted. "Pathetic excuses. That is all I hear. Do you understand? Do you know where I am coming from?"

"Y-yes, I know it sounds…blasphemous. I…forgiveness, My Chosen One…forgiveness…"

"What will you do to make up for it?"

Her form-fitting, midnight-black bodysuit accentuated every delicate curve and contour on her. Her flawless porcelain skin seemingly amplified her allure. Her eyes of endless white and weakness trembled.

"Everything! Anything!" Angel Breaker exclaimed. "Please! I would climb the mountains of–"

"Go to my room, close the door, strip, and stay there. I will punish you when I return." He turned. She tensed up and ran to his room on four legs. Like an animal, the door slammed shut behind her.