Chapter Five: No Fate, Just Kent
The train out of Gotham rattled like it was held together with rust and spit, but Kane didn't care.
He kept his hood low, head tilted toward the window, watching the rain streak past. The farther Gotham faded behind him, the more the weight in his chest lifted. It wasn't freedom exactly. Just space. Breathing room.
He didn't know where he was going—just that he couldn't stay. Not with what was inside him. Not with eyes that saw too much and a presence that didn't know how to dim down.
He'd heard whispers online. Occult forums, myth-chasing threads. Among the nonsense, one name had come up again and again.
Nelson Kent.
Not Doctor Fate.
Just Nelson.
A man once tethered to the Helm of Nabu. Now retired. Quiet. Off the grid. Some said he lived like a ghost. Others said he was dead.
But Kane had a feeling.
If anyone could help him make sense of this—if anyone could help him understand—it was the man who once carried the burden of the divine, then walked away from it.
The trail led to a small town in New England. One of those places that still had a single diner, a real post office, and a bookstore that hadn't changed owners in forty years.
Kane stepped off the train and stretched, eyes scanning the misty streets. No one noticed him. White hair tucked under a beanie. Golden eyes dimmed behind sunglasses. Just another kid with a backpack and a silent past.
He found the house by asking a waitress at the diner. "Old Kent?" she said, raising a brow. "That's the guy with the chessboard on his porch. Doesn't say much. Stares too long."
That was all he needed.
The house was modest. White paint peeling. Wind chimes barely clinging to the eaves. An old man sat on the porch, sipping tea, a worn flannel wrapped around him. A chessboard sat untouched in front of him, pieces already mid-game.
Kane stopped at the gate.
The man looked up. Calm. Measured. Eyes sharp behind circular glasses.
"You're not selling anything," he said. "And you're not lost."
Kane shook his head. "I think I'm… dangerous. Or broken. Or both."
The old man nodded once. "Come in, then."
Kane stepped up the porch slowly. No wards, no symbols. Nothing mystical. But the air felt clean around the house, like logic lived here and didn't take visitors.
"You're Nelson Kent," Kane said.
"I was," the man replied. "Still am. Most days. Sit."
Kane dropped into the chair across from him.
"I read about you," he said. "Doctor Fate."
"No," Nelson corrected. "That was him. I was just the vessel. A glorified passenger seat in a helmet with an ego problem."
Kane almost smiled. "So you're not magic?"
"I'm done with magic," Nelson said. "But I remember things. That's enough."
Kane looked down at his hands. "I woke up with powers. Not small ones. The kind that make gods pause. I didn't earn them. I didn't ask for them. But I have them. And I'm scared I'll break something just by being here."
Nelson studied him. No judgment. Just silence.
"And I don't want to hurt anyone," Kane added. "I don't even want to be involved. I just want… peace. I want this to make sense."
Nelson nodded slowly. "It doesn't."
Kane blinked.
"The powers, the visions, the multiverse, the Presence—none of it makes sense," Nelson said. "Not in the way you want. It's not math. It's myth in motion. It breaks the rules. It writes new ones."
"So what do I do?"
"You live. You think. You choose."
"That simple?"
"That hard."
Nelson took a sip of tea. "Power doesn't define you. What you do when no one's watching does. What you refuse to do matters even more."
Kane looked up. "You think I'm dangerous?"
"Absolutely."
Kane flinched.
"But," Nelson added, "you're also aware of it. That's a rare trait. It means you haven't lost your center."
Kane glanced at the chessboard. "You play?"
"Every morning. Against myself. And I still lose."
Kane smiled. For real this time.
Nelson leaned forward. "I can't train you. I won't pretend to have all the answers. But I can remind you of something important."
"What?"
"You're not the first person to carry weight they didn't ask for. And you won't be the last. You don't have to be Fate. Or Doom. Or Destiny. You can just be Kane. And that might be enough."
Kane didn't speak. He just sat there, letting the words settle.
For the first time in days, the hum of power inside him quieted.
Not gone. But listening.
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