Taste Me Consume Me - Emerald1115 (2024)

Chapter 1: Unchained Melody

Chapter Text

You both sealed your fates when you looked into each other’s eyes for the first time.

Her beautiful eyes once showed innocence and curiosity but now only show you power, desire, lust, and, most of all…love and dominance.

You can’t say no to her, nor do you want to. You have long since mastered silent communication with your beloved and know every part of her silently screams for protection and control when it comes to you. She is your anchor, your reason to keep going, and you see the reverse is also the truth. She gently pushed you onto the bed, studying even your briefest moments. You would never lie to her, but she would not take risks with your safety, especially after last time.

Let's back up a bit.

You are part of the Harrison family, unlike most of the eldest families of Gotham. Your ancestors were dirt poor with little to no notable history originally. Instead, they were dirt farmers, but that would change when your ancestors went from Virginia to New Jersey, where they surprisingly struck big and fast in business. While they were not a founding family of Gotham, the Harrisons were still among the first families to establish themselves in the small village that would become the iconic city. Your clan might as well have been a founding family in many ways. Unfortunately, history doesn’t care about anything beyond the first place, so your family’s history isn’t quite as well-known outside historians and museums.

While not abusive, your family wasn’t exactly close, and while you respect and love each other, you sometimes ask yourself if you all were even a family. Truthfully, names such as Harrison, Wayne, or Copplepot meant little to you beyond being a helpful tool. One shouldn’t make assumptions about someone’s character from surname alone, and one could argue it to identify yourself as a relative of another family member, but you call bull. Markus taught you that as long as someone was loyal and could prove it, they might as well be family-shared names be damned. You and him, for example, were family, even if not by blood. He even gave you a nickname: Tools; Sure, not the most intimating name, but what can you say? You’re almost good at tinkering as you are at language, and you were very good at language. Tongues, though, sound a bit lewder than you care for.

Your family was significantly powerful, perhaps the second or third powerful family in modern Gotham, and maybe the only one that doesn’t have a criminal record a mile wide in recent times. Your family wasn’t angels, but at best, there was only the occasional corruption. The Harrisons are stern, strict, and admittedly could have a stick up their ass, but the fact they never had to face Batman gunning for their throat proved they’re not highly corrupted, at least by Gotham’s standards. It helps that unlike the rest of Gotham, your family tries its best to step out of the ways of the Waynes instead of developing some vendetta with them, or how Markus would say, “Stay out of Wayne’s bullsh*t,” as he so politely puts it.

It was nothing personal; it was just that the Harrisons knew fighting for most of the developing city was not worth the effort. While the Harrisons still contributed to building Gotham into a massive city, it is now. Your family mainly created or invested in companies outside the area once more opportunities arose. Your family was the first native-born industry in Gotham to go international in fact. Granted, it was inevitable that you and the other families occasionally crushed each other’s toes, but the Harrisons always make sure never to make it personal, especially nowadays. No one wants to risk making enemies with Copplepot or the presumed deceased Thomas Wayne.

You may seem paranoid about the Wayne clan, but can you blame yourself? That family has an almost spot-clean record, but you always personally called bullsh*t. No family became the crown family of a place like Gotham and remained heroes. Ironically, maybe it was your family’s paranoia that ultimately doomed you from the start. For centuries, your family tried to avoid anything beyond a purely professional relationship with the Waynes, positive or negative, but destiny awaits no one. All those years of avoiding dealing with that clan all came to a head with you becoming trapped into getting in front of the headlights of the family; perhaps instinctively, you were aware of that since the beginning.

That said, you had no idea it would be her that jumpstarted this journey.

This is the story of how Cassandra Wayne and her world devoured you.
---
In your defense, she wasn’t a Wayne when you found her.

It was a rainy night in early June in Gotham (so nothing special weather-wise); Markus was driving you through lower Gotham reluctantly for a shortcut back home. He was your “Butler” official though the more accurate term would be a bodyguard and family friend. He was born in the depths of Crime Alley, and he had encountered your father when he somehow managed to get lost in that part of the city after returning from private school while they were both teens.

How your father managed to get that badly lost or why Markus didn’t rob such an easy meal ticket is a mystery to both men, but Markus’ kindness worked out for them. Markus has long since abandoned his neighborhood with his much better job protecting your dad and his family. Your father, in turn, had someone he could trust with his family who would defend them beyond a paycheck.

You got practically another uncle out of it, though, in your opinion, he was almost a second dad. Markus could be ruthless with you on how the world works, but he also had an easier time being soft on you, something your biological father could not be, thanks to the society he originated from.

“You have been quiet Tools” Markus commented.

“Just thinking” you replied reluctantly.

“You’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Markus continued, clearly not getting the hint that you didn’t feel like talking.

Or maybe he just didn’t care. To be frank, it was always a gamble with Markus.

“The future unnerves me if I’m honest, Mark. The city keeps changing and for the worse.”

“No need to tell me”

The mob and every other criminal ruled this city in Markus' time.

Now, while the mob has died down, it has been replaced with killer clowns, plant girls, and other circus rejects that you believe deserve the death penalty rather than a vacation in Arkham.

“No, that's not quite what I was referring to, friend…I have been thinking about life, to be honest. I’m getting older, more eyes on me.”

“What's wrong lil philosopher? Piss off the wrong person?”

“No, I’m not dumb enough to make enemies willingly. It is almost the opposite; making allies is the issue.”

“Ah, allies, or rather fellow parasites.”

“Ha! I’m afraid I’m like my father when it comes to being gullible, but smart enough to know I am gullible. I don’t know who to trust. Talking to people, making connections. Sure, I have the education to what to do all that on paper, but pardon my language, it f*cking different in putting what I learn into practice.”

Markus, of course, snickers at your distress. He always preferred your casual language. Whether it's because it’s his favorite way of talking or just like watching a child curse is still up for debate.

“Tools, here is a word of advice for ya. You’re gonna f*ck up.”

“Jeez, thanks, Mark.”

“Hey, I’m being serious. There is no better teacher than experience. It just so happens like most teachers experience happen to be a bitch”

“Well, now you can’t complain when I insult you during those driving lessons, especially when I’m not even 13.”

“Hey, now I said MOST teachers, plus you never know when you need to drive-”

Bullets rang an end to your conservation as Markus shifted from jovial friend to harden bodyguard and pulled your body down as you and every car on the street came to a stop; you could see storms of bullets from your position.

“Targeting us?” You whispered

“Unlikely, they still shooting just everywhere and everyone with no demands,” Markus spoke as if talking about the weather.

Considering this wasn’t the first rodeo either of you when it comes to being in the face of violence. Markus might as well be talking about the weather.

Being stuck in this shooting was still dangerous, even if you weren’t the target. These scum could recognize you as someone of high value and make you a hostage. Alternatively, they might not identify you or simply not care before shooting you in the face for the sake of it.

Once it was clear your car was no longer part of target practice for the shooters, you peeked up slightly, much to Markus's annoyance. You were not suicidal; you sometimes didn’t have the best preservation skills.

“Clown Masks,” You muttered.

“Joker’s goons,” Markus practically seethed.

Markus lost his baby sister to the clown prince of crime years ago. Shame, too, was a lovely woman; understandably, Markus had a real personal vendetta for The Joker and his men, but then again, what person who lived in Gotham for more than a month doesn’t have a grudge to pick with that sad*stic jester?

Carefully, the older man brought out his M1911 before taking another from underneath his belt and tossing it to you. In most situations, it would look bad to hand a child a gun, but one has no room to discuss ethics in a life-or-death problem. You’re a pretty good shot; not to brag but now is not to test how close you are to Deadshot’s level.

“Wait,” you examined.

“What?” Markus replied

“There's a girl. She is behind one of the trashcans” You observed

She was dirty, exceptionally so. She must’ve been wearing the dress nonstop for ages. Not to sound judgmental, but it was clear that she was homeless. It was dark so details were fuzzy, but she seemed to be of Asian origin. Her hair was messy and certainly not done by any self-respecting barber.

“Good, now get down before you give both you and her positions away,” Markus responded.

Maybe you were feeling particularly rebellious today, or perhaps all those Superman comics were getting to you, but damn it. There was no way in hell you would let someone your age be left to deal with Joker’s goons. Joker might be the epitome of sadism, but his followers could be close second. Carefully, you open your car’s door to get the girl’s attention.

“Hey, come here,” you whispered across from your location.

Immediately the girl turned to you, not to complain, but you were surprised at how quickly she picked up your voice. She must have excellent hearing. However, she stares at you almost like an animal may look at a human. She heard you but didn’t understand you, perhaps she is not a native speaker?

That's fine; you’re all about finding new communication.

You’re one of the lucky (or unlucky depending on who you asked) to have a special gift. That's what your mother calls it anyway. That is language. You weren’t talking about just foreign languages such as Spanish or German. Any language that exists, you can master almost immediately; hell, you can even speak with machines. Body language also counts as your parents' attempts to lie about Santa Claus proved. You focus on her as your power does its magic. Her body's faint movements and actions became “words” so clear to you it was almost as if she spoke into your ear.

“Fear, Cold, Loud, dangerous, No Trust, Hungry, Scared, Fear,” She, “told” you through her body signals.

“Safe, trust, come, safe, protect, join me.” you “replied” back as non-aggressive as possible.

She seemed shocked you could communicate with her so well; then again, most people probably couldn’t communicate with her so clearly. Granted, you were cheating, but if saving someone meant cheating with your powers to save their lives, so be it. She looked towards you and then back at the shooters. Why is she genuinely weighing her actions between you and the scum of Gotham? You had no clue. Eventually, something clicks in her thought process as she makes bolts for your car. She was running with swiftness in a way you have never seen. Sadly, it appears Joker’s men today had decent eyes as they saw just enough of her to start firing at her. You step out of the car, slightly fired back, covering her as they pay attention back to you. Thankfully she didn’t stumble for a second as she barreled into your car with you shutting the door behind her.

“Mark!” You yelled.

“On it, but oh boy, do we have a long conservation about this,” Markus muttered as he got back up from his seat and stepped on the gas, Something the Joker goons did not appreciate as they fired onto your car again. You instinctively held the girl down and fired blankly from the cover.

Markus proved, however, he was more than worthy of a future raise as he managed to maneuver around cars and other people as you sped away from the scene. Not that you dare raise your head to check to prevent tasting a lucky stray bullet.

Turning to your new passenger, you examine her. She was filthy, as expected but also covered in fresh and old wounds and scars found over her body. This girl must’ve faced trouble well before tangling with you; she looked at you with innocent yet remorseful brown eyes. They were beautiful, almost hypnotic, but you did eventually snap out of your accidental starring contest only to turn to meet Markus’ smug face looking at you from his mirror.

“Where to next, Romero?” Markus snarked,

“Shouldn’t we worry about them tracking the car” You desperately attempted to change the subject?

“Don’t worry, the car is disposable, and we are using a fake license plate,” He stated as he chuckled.

Perhaps your family didn’t follow the law as closely as you initially believed.

Your newly formed trio decided to stop at Bat Burger; you’re more of a SuperBurger person, but have fun trying to find such a restaurant in this city. You dubbed your new friend “Cassandra” or “Cass,” a name your mother always loved but never had the chance to use on her children. Not to mention you were in your Greek mythology phase. Cass was adorable; she was a gullet too. She devoured burger after burger in what must’ve been an awkward sight for anyone who noticed a boy in a suit and a middle-aged thug-looking man sitting and watching a homeless girl in rags tearing into sandwich after sandwich.

Cassandra was also bloody dangerous, now that you could adequately study her body language without the darkness getting in the way. Her body screamed weapon in the subtlest of ways. Cassandra was almost skin and bones, yet she probably knew how to kill you casually despite her status. Those scars of her are likely related to her gaining such capabilities. She may have gone through some weird training. Perhaps some messed up parent or guardian?

Either way, you’ll never complain about your parents’ parenting skills again.

Ok, that's a lie, but you won’t complain as much, at least. Another issue also reared its head: what to do with Cass? Mother, Father, and any other family members were handling business elsewhere. Barring Markus and the staff, you were on your own for the most part in this situation. You couldn’t just drop in the middle of nowhere now that she is in your custody. Plus, just because you didn’t have your parents meant this was something you couldn’t handle; you think, heck, that Tim Drake kid gets to be completely alone when his parents are gone, from what you could tell, so this is normal.

“How about a sleepover?” You spoke out loud,

“Come with me, safe, warmth, protection,” you signal at Cass.

“You have to be joking,” Markus deadpanned.

“It not like she has anywhere else to go, Mark!” You exclaimed,

“You just can’t pick up random kids off the streets. who are you, Bruce Wayne?” Markus snarked back.

“Bruce Wayne only has two kids. He's not that bad,” You weakly defended the fellow billionaire.

“Yeah, supposedly only has two adopted runts. Yeah, no, you read how much Brucie Boy seemingly sleeps around. Trust me; Bruce got some illegitimate mini hims running around,” Markus said as he demolished his fries.

Considering Bruce Wayne’s infamous playboy habits, you couldn’t deny that.

After much begging and bribing, Markus reluctantly allowed you to take Cass home. You sound like you're bringing in a pet instead of a human, but you don’t know how to say it. It took an hour to convince her it was safe to enter your massive house. Admittedly, as annoying as it was to wait for her. You, too, would not be in any rush to enter a stranger’s house either. Once she finally entered the main door, Cass immediately started scanning the area; you’re assuming it was to look for any escape points. Considering half the house is made of nothing but glass. You would be more surprised if she didn’t find a way to escape if she wanted to.

You tried to show her around the house, but you didn’t want to try and physically touch her in fear of losing her trust and that she could flatten you at any time so you strolled through the mansion as she trailed behind you during the unofficial tour. Fortunately, whoever her caretaker was was decent enough to teach her about the bathroom as you watched her immediately use it once she found it. Thank god you are not ready to teach anyone about operating a tub or toilet, much less someone around your age and the opposite gender. As for new clothes, the best you could do for now was give her some of your clothes as replacements for what she was wearing; you were the youngest of your siblings and a boy, so any hand-me-downs from your sister have long since been retired and donated when it seemed they wouldn’t have any more use in the family. None of your clothes fit the scrawny girl perfectly, but they were miles better than the rags she was using before.

You communicated with Cassandra as she admired the guest room that it would be where she would be staying. It wasn’t fancy by your standards, and nothing was personalized. It was a decent-sized room with a small library and a TV, but you doubt Cass would touch any of those books. She seems to have a language problem. On the way home, you tried every language or sign language you knew, but barring the body language communication that you were already using, Cass didn’t understand anything. The likelihood she could read or at least read well was frankly low unless she managed to surprise you.

As you watched from the front door, you allowed your new friend(?) to move around and enjoy her new private living arrangements. You gave yourself a good grade in handling this situation. That said, you knew that things would be far from over with taking in and helping Cassandra if she does stay. Still, you claimed victory when the girl laid down and promptly fell asleep instantly. You suspect that her body finally crashed from all the energy she had been using for days, and no doubt this eventful night helped. You left the door cracked open; you didn’t want to give the impression of trying to trap her. If she runs off, it would be unfortunate, but it is not like you were planning to imprison her. To be frank, you don’t have any sort of real plan.

“Any idea where she is from?” Markus asked, grabbing your attention.

“I’ve tried every other vocal communication method under the book. Cassandra doesn’t know any form of sign language either.”

“Doesn’t seem right; physical damage is explainable with how much abuse this sh*thole city has. It is the lack of talking that doesn’t makes sense. It doesn’t matter how crappy one childhood is in Gotham. Every kid in Lower Gotham knows how to speak. Maybe not English, but Italian, Russian, or hell, occasionally some Chinese, Japanese, or French. She shouldn't be alive if she can’t talk the talk as she can walk the walk.”

“Maybe, maybe she is not from Gotham.”

“Then where from?”

“I wish I had an answer, but whatever it is. It must be hell. Most kids should be talking at least around one year old, much less around my age. So either she had so little human contact that she should be feral-”

“Considering she can put on her clothes and potty trained, we can throw that out the door.”

“Or she has been specifically “raised” in a certain way. Maybe some training that didn’t include basic human necessities like talking as part of the program? What kind of monster does such sh*t?”

“One that deserves a bullet between the eyes”

You once more agree with Markus’s crude but adequate description of the situation. Between Cassandra’s precise capabilities of violence, the number of scars you found (and those are just the visible ones), and the fact she had little to no way of directly communicating with nearly anyone. She sounds less than an abused, homeless child and more like an abused attack dog.

Some part of you was curious about the purpose of raising Cassandra like an animal or weapon. Human trafficking? It doesn’t quite fit; when someone wants an enslaved person for whatever sick reason, it is generally an intelligent move not to give the enslaved person the skills of a killer. Maybe metahuman trafficking? No, Cassandra didn’t have any powers, from what you know. Thinking of Cassandra’s origins was frustrating; almost everything about her is hypotheses and theories. Markus must have sensed your brain beginning to fry itself as it tried to figure out more about this mess as he began ushering you to your room.

“We’ll figure it out, Tools. How about we both hit the hay?”

“You know I was initially planning to stay up all night.”

“Well, it's almost 4 in the morning, so I imagine you accomplished that task quite nicely.”

“Jesus, you knew what I meant.”

“I’m serious, Romero. You showed your crush some moves tonight. One night with ya, and she already spending a night at your house.”

“Truly, Mark, you are the salt of the earth.”

It was another awful day in Gotham, but you could help but crack a small smile as it ended with Markus laughing at your crankiness.
---
You woke up with Cassandra on your bed.

She was staring at your soul with her brown eyes.

No, you didn’t almost fall out of bed from that jump scare.

As you catch your breath, she continues studying you and your room like a cat. In hindsight, she probably hasn’t been taught that one should knock before entering someone’s private room. Hell, she might not even know what privacy is. Her captors almost most certainly did not grant her any of her own. You probably should teach her about that later.

Oh right,

Cassandra needed a teacher or some sort of tutor; however, it is not like you can just hire someone to do it. Barring the staff and Markus, no one knows about Cass. You haven’t even thought of what to tell your family about her. Hey, this girl with special needs is crashing at my place. Could we immediately adopt her? No, you’ll just have to pull your weight and help her yourself. Nothing you shouldn’t be incapable of. You invented some pretty crazy sh*t before. How hard was teaching a fellow kid, even with a language barrier?

“I teach you this” You showed a piece of paper holding all the alphabet letters as you sat at your desk and motioned her to sit next to you.

“Teach? Teach hurt”

“Not same, good teaching”

Reluctantly, she took a seat next to you.
---
Teaching was a challenge; scratch that, it was impossibly hard. Knowing a topic did not allow one to easily pass it down to others, as you quickly learned, much less someone with a disability.

Markus wasn’t helping with his excessive laughing.

Learning to speak or write is difficult, but you settle down on writing. The session wasn’t very successful, but it was only one day. After all, you’re not a miracle worker. If you had a suitable invention, you might download the knowledge into her head. However, creating a device that shoots intelligence into someone’s head may have consequences. You have no plans of treating your guest as a lab animal, so the old-fashioned way was for now.

Ultimately, you called it a day after two hours; Cassandra was a good student. She tried at least to understand what you were doing, but it cleared she needed to get used to sitting down for such long periods.

“What do you want to do.”

“What do I want?”

“Yes, what do you want.”

It looks like you got revenge for the jump scare, as she looked surprised before smiling. Said smile tickled you with a warm feeling that you couldn’t explain. Being decent shouldn’t feel so good, but her kind face meant everything. Markus was right; you might have a crush on Cassandra.

“I want to play.”

If there is any time you wish to warn your past self about the future, that is what “playing” means for Cassandra.

You brought her to the family’s gym expecting something like tag, hide and seek, or running around. However, that changed when she got on the mat and into a fighting position. You’re no martial artist, but you had to be blind not to think it was any other position. Markus taught you some self-defense, but as said before, fighting has never been your hobby. Still, she was willing to bare with your attempts at teaching. The least you could do is try out what she wanted to do, even if she would likely kick your ass. You shifted into a basic boxing pose as you two circled each other.

Good news, learning Cassandra’s body language skills with your powers allowed you to read her moves almost as well as she could read yours. Bad news, such information was useless against her considering the tremendous speed, strength, and skill difference. You already knew she was planning to go easy with you, and you still put down on the ground in 5 seconds as oxygen forcefully expelled itself from your body as you desperately tried to reclaim some of it back. You didn’t even remember falling to the ground. Your eyes stare at Cass as she looks down at you sympathetically.

“Sorry,”

“It's okay,” you tried to communicate back. Though how accurate it was with your butt on the ground, you had no idea.

But thankfully, your message was understood as she giggled and helped you back up.

“Stop?” She looked at you, slightly worried.

Your only response was getting back to your original stance.

“No, I teach earlier; you teach me to play now.”

Thus the next hour or so was you being a glorified punching bag. Never have you been flipped around so many times, much less in rapid sessions, but at least Cass was having fun even if she wasn’t trying all that hard.

You could’ve done without Markus coming in to watch with popcorn.
---
It took a rough start, but soon you became an inseparable duo as time passed. Cass kept popping up in your room every morning that you didn’t bother trying to shut the door. Teaching for both of you remains challenging, but there is progress. Cass learned the English ABCs, and you are now working on words and their meaning. Meanwhile, you have gotten better at fighting, even if you’re nowhere close to touching your teacher in anything serious. You began learning more about her too. She naturally had a huge appetite, and her previous shows of hunger weren’t just a sign of starvation. Your hired chef was earning that paycheck; speaking of food, her favorite ice cream was chocolate. Another thing she loved was music and dancing; you little her experiencing music and showed your attempts at dancing perk her interest as she followed your move. What cemented her appeal, however, was when you were flipping through the channels, and she saw ballerinas for presumably the first time.

You have never seen someone be so completely engrossed in the activity. While impressive, you weren’t sure what was so special about it until Cass showed what she learned from watching her new interest. Even her body reading skill had limits, as she couldn’t perfectly mimic the dancers from just viewing them the first time, but for you, she might as well be an angel.

Of course, she learned more about you as well. Mainly your lab, which was just one of your home’s basem*nts, you more or less macgyver into a proper laboratory. Lab safety quickly rose to your list to teach when she nearly electrocuted herself on an unfinished device. You tried to include her as much as possible, but she eagerly watched you even when you couldn’t. You’re not sure why, but hopefully, it was like seeing her dance and not because you looked funny while concreting. You had to evolve your idea of creating a knowledge-granting device with a universal translator. It is infinitely safer in other people’s hands, and you feel much more comfortable testing with Cass.

You didn’t stick solely around the house, either. Markus took you guys to experience the more safe parts of Gotham. Granted, nowhere in Gotham was “safe,” but you were already pushing it with Markus about keeping Cass around in secret. Asking if it was okay to travel outside the city might finally get him to listen to his better judgment. You explored Robinson Park, walked the grounds of Gotham Academy, hit the movies, which Cass enjoyed even if she couldn’t understand the dialogue, and pointed out Wayne Manor on the drive back home. Despite the Wayne family making a recovery with their addition of adoptive kids, the place still looks creepy as hell, in your personal opinion.

By late July, almost two months since Cass became a mainstay, you had decided to celebrate Cassandra's birthday. When Cass was actually born, there was no real idea, but celebrating her life after years of suffering felt right. You also admittedly liked birthday cake, but you mainly held selfless intentions. Her shocked expression was worth everything as one of your maids brought the cake in front of her. She looked back at you as if you. Your silent mutual communication had improved.

“For me?”

“Yes, for you, we are celebrating you.”

“Why?

“You are my friend, and I want to celebrate you being here, with us, with me.”

She looked at you and opened her mouth.

“Tools”

She managed to say your name.

“Did you just-did you just speak?”

She merely smiled and hugged you.

It was a type of thanks better than any words could’ve possibly offered.

You’ll never forget it, even to your dying days.
---
Much to your disappointment, there weren’t any more hugs since the first one, but you have long since accepted that physical affection is something Cass isn’t used to. You can’t help that you enjoyed it so much due to your lack of experience with the act. Not that your parents didn’t show affection when they were around. The issue was mainly just that: They weren’t around.

Perhaps there was more resentment in you about that topic than you initially thought.

September had arrived, and your parents would remain unavailable for the most part, but they would return to check on you soon. Your older siblings would return home from their months-long vacation as well, which was quite the issue. Even if you could hide Cass from your parents, you couldn’t keep her hidden forever from your brother and sister. Not to mention, as much as your gut turns with separating from her. Cassandra needs a life more significant than just you, Markus, the staff, and this mansion. She deserves a good home with semi-competent adults, a proper education, and the ability to make connections, which you can’t do by only being near you. You won’t drop her to fend for herself, but you will bring it up to her soon. What you did was good, but it is time for others to start stepping in.

But all of that could wait as you held the tiny device in the palm of your hand.

It looked like a ripoff of the Sonic Screwdriver from Doctor Who, but regardless. You have completed your prototype of the Universal Translator.

It was still nothing compared to your communication powers, and it couldn’t truly replace someone's needs to learn a language without it (yet) but damn it, you did it, or you think you did. It still needed to be tested like the other attempts.
You flip its switch, and it begins glowing a soft blue glow. You turn to Cass, who follows the device as a cat looking at a laser pointer.

“Hey, you understand me?”

She flicks her attention at you.

“...yes”

You won’t lie; your face broke into a sh*t-eating grin.

“It's a pleasure to talk to you finally.”

“The…pleasure is all mine.”

“So, do you have a name? Something to Identity yourself, maybe?”

“No…I have no name. Do you have one for me?”

“I have been calling you Cassandra or Cass for short, but maybe you have a better name?”

“I don’t think so; I never had a name.”

“Well, we are not in any rush. Names can take time. People can have multiple names.”

“Do you have multiple names, Tools?”

“Yeah, Tools is my nickname. It's like a second more personal name.”

“What's your first less personal name.”

“Well, my full name is kinda lengthy, but it begins with-”

And then, rather brutally, the translator broke in your hand as you painfully held your now bleeding hand.

f*ck
---
Getting it right the first time made the second one practically a breeze. You made this one in the form of a necklace. Much easier for Cass to wear than constantly holding some odd device in her hand. You ensured this one would not explode after that extended period. Still, you prayed to every deity from up and above that way.

It helped Cassandra immensely; if she wasn’t already interested in learning how to speak before, she was giving 150% now that she experienced the joy of verbal communication. She couldn’t express complete sentences without her translator necklace but could recognize words, their definitions, and names. She can talk a little, albeit mostly in simple words such as “Stop” or “Cat.”

You also learned you underestimated her intelligence.

You never thought she was dumb, just uneducated. However, she was a sponge of knowledge once you had the proper teaching methods and reliable communication. When you introduce her to musical instruments such as the piano, she almost mastered it in days from merely watching you and online videos. While still behind most people her age, her math skills showed much promise despite your earlier reluctance. Math was straightforward; numbers do not mix around the way words do. With just a little more time, Cass will likely catch up and maybe surpass her peers. Needlessly to say, while you would pat your back as surprisingly good teaching skills, Cassandra’s skills as a student could not possibly go unsaid as the true star of this educational journey. There were just some questions you didn’t expect from her.

“Have you killed before?” She said almost softly, like a whisper

You almost wanted to ask why she brought it up, but that would be dodging the question.

“Yes, I have,” you said, emotionless about the subject. Cass remained silent, so you might as well elaborate. “As a member of my family, My father taught me that I should defend myself, and I have. I suspect you experienced something similar?”. You nearly cursed yourself a thousand times when she flinched at that. “Yes and no, I killed but not in defense. I was told to by him”.

Cassandra’s caretaker was some mysterious man. A man you would gladly tie the rope knot that would hang him. You have suspicions the man was a blood relative, possibly father, but even Cass is unsure, and you would try to kill the man before he tells you himself if you two met. After all, blood relations didn’t matter.

He hurt Cass.

“Do you feel guilt?” You ask nonjudgmentally, “I think so? His body’s final motions and the sudden silence” She looked away as she talked, too ashamed. “Not that my emotions matter, but I don’t blame you.” She turned back in surprise. “You don’t think it…bad that he died?”

“I am not here to debate if it is bad or not. I don’t know if the man is enough to know if he deserves it. I just think you should be the last one to take the blame for his death. You had no previous experience with killing or even death period, and suddenly you experience both simultaneously. You are what they say traumatized.”

She looks at you with curiosity.

“Do you think killing is justified?” She asked. Oh boy.

“I think it can be yes,” you answer reluctantly. “But what I think doesn’t mean it is true. Some people never think killing is okay, like, Batman. Others think killing is just part of having fun, like your old caretaker, and many other violent people”.

Cassandra nodded as she followed. “Where do you land?”

You exhaled, “I am in the camp that sometimes people need to die, but generally, we should avoid it. Do you remember when we watched The Joker on the news last week? He killed so many simply because he desired to. Personally, someone should’ve executed him if not to avenge the dead but to protect the living,” You let that sink in before continuing. “I am not selfless; however, if killing meant I had to protect you, myself, Markus, or my family, for example. I wouldn’t hesitate”.

“Am I worth it?” she asked almost more to herself than you.

You touched her hand with your own.

“You are worth Hell and back, that said” You comforted her. “Do not try to force yourself under another’s ideal. Live and figure out what YOU stand for. Perhaps you never wish to kill again. Understandably, but if not, then so be it. We both have killed, but the how or why is different, Cass. If you feel different, there is nothing wrong with that. Some people can kill, and many cannot. ”

She looked frustrated.

You can’t blame her; you weren’t offering a straight answer.

“Does it get easier” She whispered.

“If it for what you stand for? Yes.” You answered truthfully

The lesson ended early that day, and Cassandra had much to consider.
---
Two weeks later, your latest teaching lesson suddenly ended with an explosion rocking the house.

Markus, who had been waiting on the other side, likely napping, literally kicked down the door.

“That's it, kids, we are leaving!”

The three of you rushed upstairs to see the lovely big hole in your house and the not-so-tiny flames in what used to be one of your family’s living rooms. Some jackass just shot a missile at your home.

“What the hell was that!”

“A warning shot, Tools. You guys get behind me.”

Markus took out his pistol and tossed you a second one as you maneuvered your way for an exit. Thankfully, your new “friend” didn’t offer more warning shots on your home. You watched from the upper floor as staff ran out of the mansion.

“Hate to be that guy, but this is too easy. They haven’t fired at us or anyone since that shot.”

“They must be looking for someone or something. Why not just level the house, then.”

“Maybe it's Cass.”

“Don’t joke like that.”

You can’t deny that he may be correct, but that is only one of many possibilities. You were in Gotham, after all. It could be one of your family’s many enemies, sure the Harrisons don’t have many if any, personal enemies. You don’t need a personal vendetta to want someone dead, especially when you’re in Gotham. Considering how many businesses your family has nationally or internationally, they might not even be from Gotham. Of course, if we are pushing it, it is also likely some terrorists didn’t have the highest opinion of the rich.

Any sanity of the situation promptly left when you notice ninjas, yes, literal ninjas, subtly pouring in one of the windows as the last of the staff exited safely. You and Markus stared at each other, confused, but your fears were confirmed as you turned to Cass, which held one expression: Anguish.

“You know who these people are.”

“Seen this group before. The man I was with is a part of them.”

“The man?

“The one I ran away from. He is likely here as well.”

You could hear Markus curse under his breath, and you could think of more than a few unfavorable words yourself about this situation.

“They are not taking you,”

“They will hurt you, kill you,”

“They will try,”

You will not allow some bastard to take your friend. Sure, the main exit was compromised. However, your family wouldn’t be old and wealthy if you didn’t have secret passages around the house.

“Follow us,” you muttered to Cass; reluctantly, she followed, eventually, after entering one of the many guestrooms. Markus pushed one of the bookshelves revealing a door.

“It won’t be long till they find this location. The door isn’t going to seal behind us, so it takes approximately 0.2 seconds to realize we used this as a way to escape. Should take us to one of the side garages,” Markus explained.

You turned to Cass. “We should have a pretty plain getaway, but there is still a chance they spot us. Whatever happens, you need to escape. Promise?" You needed her to get away from here no matter what. That's your win condition. Sadly, it seems she has different ideas. “I am not leaving you to face this.” She has fire in her eyes; you would be impressed or even in awe in almost any other situation.

Now is not the time.

“You won’t; they’re not after Markus or me. They are not after my family. They are after you. We won’t be useful to them if you manage to get away,” you tried to explain. Granted, You purposely choose to ignore that because you have no use, and you’re likely to get murdered for tying up loose ends, but something she didn’t think about at the moment.

Markus hushes your little argument as your significant spat as you walk down the stone steps. Note to self, seriously upgrade your house, assuming there is still a house by the end of all this. “We're going to take one of your dad’s cars out of this joint, but we'll be quiet and slow if possible. Do not make any noise.” He didn’t wait for a confirmation as you three arrived at your location.

“I think we are good for now. Tools help me find some keys-” Markus didn’t finish talking as a man in black jumped down and socked him in the jaw. He had underestimated Markus’ durability, however, instead of crumbling. Markus swung right back, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble. Markus went for another potshot, but the man merely weaved around the hit and gut-checked the poor man forcing him on his knees before kneeling him in the face and knocking him out. Not one to stand ideal, you reach for your gun, but this discount Cobra from G.I. Joe throws a roundhouse. The power and size difference between you both meant you were sent effectively flying into your mom’s red Lamborghini.

Hopefully, she can understand you didn’t precisely have complete control of the situation as you struggled to remain conscious of both the sensation of pain and what broken ribs you most certainly have. You could only watch Cass confront the man before her. He removes his mask, revealing a middle age man with graying black hair. She spoke no words to him as they communicated by looking at each other. Maybe she instinctively felt the need to use the form of “talking.”

Then she strikes.

He blocked.

She swings low, and he jumps high. She rolls out of the way as he attempts to stomp on her. They move faster than you've ever seen Cassandra move. They almost dance as if they had a similar battle like this a thousand times, and likely they have. Cass is amazing.

But this man is better.

She is a prodigy but still a kid; this man is just as good, has more experience, and likely has personally taught her. For every punch she lands, he lands one significantly harder. He returns the favor with three times the force for every successful kick she applies. You cursed as one of his punches shattered Cass’s translator necklace. This fight is not looking good, your friend’s durability is admirable, but she is not Superman.

She will fall

You can’t allow that to happen.

Fighting for consciousness, you reach for your gun and your concrete.

You speak to the gun but not your weapon.

The man’s pistol that you saw in his hoister.

You get only one shot, and he is undoubtedly a faster and better shot, especially in your condition.

But he is still just a man. One shot is all your going to need.

Jam

Jam

Just jam for one shot

Please, for her!

You thank whatever higher power is watching you as you get confirmation from his weapon: One shot. Shakily you use the car you were smashed against as support. You clocked your gun and tried to steady your aim. The man’s awareness was firm as he began putting Cass in submission. He immediately turns to you before whipping out his pistol.

“STOP!” Cass screamed at him, the man as if completely forgetting you whipped to look at her with surprise and shock

“You can talk?”

That is all you needed

You fired once. His reaction time allowed him to fire twice.

You slump down, clutching your bleeding shoulder, as he looks down at the new bullet hole in his chest before collapsing. You’re unsure if he is dead, but if incapacitated, he could bleed out for all you care.

Cass immediately runs to your aid.

“Get up,” she commanded, and you tried. You honestly did, but the pain was too much. “This is the end of the line.” You could maybe survive a shot to the shoulder and cracked rips, but you’re most certainly not moving from your spot, and who knows if the other ninja bastards are still around.

“Need you,” She begs, and despite what you believe in, you attempt to raise back up but slump back down. You’re fading out. It's just a fact at this point. “You’ll be just fine” You hope she understands what you’re saying. “You are Cassandra.” She looks at you somberly before asking one last question “What do I do now?”. You take in what is likely the last time you’ll see her and reply in the only way you know.”

“Be free”

And darkness takes you.
---
David Cain

That was the man you shot. Markus had gone looking around for any clues. Of course, once Markus realizes the crook who outboxed him and one of the deadliest people on the planet are the same. He quickly cut any attempts to look further into the matter. Markus was impressively strong, but people like Cain were in a different league several times over.

You also said shot, not killed earlier; when you and Markus discovered, all that was left to prove David even existed was the puddle of dried blood. You would be lying if you were to say you haven’t heard his name before, After all, David was one of the world’s greatest assassins, but you never imagined you would face him. By all means, you and Markus should’ve been dead, and the only reason you weren’t was that he was busy with Cass. In his mind, you weren’t even worth killing. He would’ve been right; half the reason Cass managed to escape was that David felt confident enough not to bother with a bulletproof vest.

The whole situation was a grave insult to your pride, you grimace. You should feel grateful you lucked out in that situation, and you are for the most part. It is just that the shame almost nearly overshadows it. You had underestimated the kind of world Cassandra was a part of. Poor Cass, you have tried to teach her as much as possible, but even if you had caught her up in education, she still is unprepared for whatever comes now. Your translator was broken in that fight, so she’ll be forced to use more simplistic methods of communication once more.

That is if she managed to escape and they didn’t kill-no you refuse to acknowledge that possibility.

Your hand hardened into a fist.

David and whatever organization violated your home brutalized Markus, shot you, and drove Cassandra to go out and fend for herself once more.

You will remember this day, this moment of weakness.

It will not happen again.
---
As much as you want to have a pity party, time waits for no one.

And time did, as years went by, six years to be precise.

You published the universal translator about a month after the incident. Sales predictably skyrocketed. Everyone wanted it to be business, politics, or making travel easy. You have yet to find a school that lacks one of your translators. The family business had been booming for it, and you decided why to stop there. You were no longer content hiding your intelligence and decided to go all in. You left your peers in the dust within. It only took a year for you to graduate from the K-12 program. Now 18, you hold numerous doctorates and masters in multiple fields. From technology to chemistry to physics, if it was science, engineering, or math, you knew a healthy amount of said topic.

You didn’t limit yourself to just improving your mind, either. The ability to do equations better than most wouldn’t save someone, and a weapon such as a gun wouldn’t be enough. You were not gifted in martial arts, but grit and determination have merits that make up for it. You couldn’t pull a Bruce Wayne, disappear from the public eye for seven years, and suddenly pop back into existence as a playboy douchebag as if nothing happened, but you could hire people to come to you. Your mentors were from far and wide, some better than others, others in less than legal businesses, but the results didn’t lie. You weren’t at David’s level yet, but eventually, you would, and when you have your hands on Cain, he will rue the day he messed with you.

It wasn’t all sunshine and butterflies; however, your older brother Travis had passed away from a boating incident four years ago. You were never given the details, but you knew it was a lie. Even without your powers to detect lies, you once barely heard your father and mother behind closed doors talking about something related to your brother and “Owls.” You could only assume it was some sort of organization, as you're pretty confident owls don’t have a grudge against boats. Not that you had a chance to ask them.

Thanks to one of Joker's schemes, they were in graves themselves only six months later, leaving you and your older sister Samantha as the remaining prominent members of the Harrison family, their fortune, and most importantly, their legacy. You had relatives elsewhere, but none carried the Harrison name or the experience of handling Gotham. Sam didn’t believe she was the best choice to run your company as Chairwoman, but she was running it well, if you dare say so yourself. It cut the already small interactions you could have with each other in half; much to Markus’ dislike, you asked him to watch Samantha from now on. You two were distant, but she was your only immediate family left, and you had no one else you could trust her with. Sam taking over had some advantages; however, fewer eyes on you, with most looking at her, and her busyness meant fewer familial eyes on you. It made meeting some less than some savory people easier.

Two years ago would prove that when you encountered people like General Samuel Lane and Amanda Waller. Lane wanted weapons, unsurprisingly. You would lie if you said you hadn’t created weapons and weapon concepts for fun and self-defense. That alone wasn’t worrisome; the problem was how he even found out that you were making such weapons or concepts in the first place; as far as the public knows, you were on your way to creating a better energy alternative or transporters, both of which are true. That's where Amanda, that bitch came in.

Waller has been on to you and knew you were a metahuman. You’re unsure how she was aware of your metahuman status or even why she even noticed you, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she and Lane want you to defend America alongside, or in better translation, They deem you a threat and want you to be their threat or out of their way before you can cause problems. You internally scoff at their attempts to scare you on their side, but you then stop and think about the upsides. One needs connections in high places; for better or worse, your country has put a lot of resources into its military, which you could gain. You’ll probably hang Waller later for getting into your business, but time to make good on a bad situation. With that, you gain some allies and undoubtedly a lot of enemies. Harrison Industries had opened up its weapon manufacturing branch for better or worse once you had approval.

A year later, here you are; technically, you are a “soldier” who did some missions here and there but nothing world-saving. All you did was join one of their black ops A.R.G.U.S., and remove a good number of assholes from this world whenever you weren't in the lab. Don't get it twisted The only reason you even did that was Waller wanted to “solidify” the relationship. Even General Lane was confused, but the move was a weak attempt to demonstrate power over you. She says this because she could force you to do what she desires, such as joining an organization you had no previous interest in even interacting with. It was clear that Waller was the scum of the highest sense, hiding behind the greater good label and “doing what needed to be done” crap. She was just using people to increase her authority and further her interest. In reality, all they wanted was your brain, so immediately after you finished training, they threw you from the government branch to the government branch, most of which were secret. The general didn’t care what Waller did with you as long as you occasionally threw some latest weaponry down to his soldiers or “Real Men,” as he would call them. Indeed, they must be the crème of the crop if they could stand General Lane for extended periods.

David might have to wait if these two keep barking up your tree. You might have a supervillain phase if the cons don’t outweigh the pros.

That is about it; you must say it is not bad. CEO, Secret Soldier, and Scientist. It's a shame you couldn’t expand your friend group all that much, especially with people your age, but you had more on your plate than you like. Particularly recently, Waller assigned you to another government organization known as Cadmus. More specifically, in their cloning project, they had no idea what they were doing going by the countless failing attempts, but you managed to pull their heads out of their asses. Once you made your first successful human clone from some person’s arm, Waller revealed that she had no plans to use cloning for the nigh-unlimited uses it could provide humanity.

Instead, she demanded that you and your team make Kryptonians.

KYPTONIANS!

Wherever made Superman a nice guy, it wasn’t his DNA. Human DNA was complex but understandable. Kryptonian DNA was like walking through a minefield in a maze while on fire. When you finally did make a clone that didn’t decide to expire in five seconds, the clone decidedly concluded that everyone needed to die. You watched a woman be fried alive, and another of your co-worker's neck nearly be snapped if it weren’t for the convenient kryptonite you had on hand. In conclusion, at least for the moment, pure Kyptonians were out of the question, but you did have an alternative that Waller, surprisingly, was very open about. Hybrids.

In some ways, it was more complex, but it made predicting and controlling how the clone turns out infinitely easier. The two pieces of DNA were also surprisingly compatible, though you didn’t tell your so-called “allies” that. You already knew Lex Luthor was going after the man of steel with his mostly one-sided hate boner. It has to be one-sided because if Superman hated Lex as 10% as Luthor hated him, then Lex Tower would’ve been rubble by now with Luthor in it. Luthor and Waller also had some weird, somewhat romantic relationships. You didn’t need him learning from Amanda about Superman being able to reproduce. You can already see him and other crazed fools bitching and moaning about how we should fear the risks of Superman even more with the possibility he is trying to conquer the earth with his half-breed son or daughter.

That would make an excellent comic idea. You should write it. It just needs a name.

How about Invincible? Yeah, that's good.

Back on track, despite the setbacks, you fulfilled the quota. It took some shortcuts. The first successful attempt was a male clone, Subject 13, dubbed Superboy. The clone’s Kryptonian portion came from Superman himself. The human part was from Luthor, who offered himself as a donor, which further cements your theory that he got a crush and was in the closest. It wasn’t all Luthor however. There was an issue with Lex’s DNA; it was damaged and not entirely usable. The likely cause was the kryptonite he always carries around on his person. To fix that DNA issue, you threw some of your DNA as well to fix it. Sure, you weren’t given permission, but they lacked a foot to stand on, considering they didn’t get Superman’s approval either. The alternative was making someone else donate their genetic material, and you had bigger things to fry than to bother someone. You didn’t even bother with Lex’s DNA when you were told to make a second one, this time with Supergirl’s DNA. Unlike Superboy, to test how much control Cadmus had on controlling a clone’s age and aging process, meaning you were making hybrid children. Also, unlike Superboy, instead of 50/50 human and alien, you made her Kryptonian genes more dominant, but ultimately, she, too, contained human DNA.

Or rather, both girls did.

You’re not sure who messed up handling the cells or if some twisted form of karma God or whatever higher deity decided to commit on thee, but in the middle of cloning, the one clone you were making became two. The worst part for the three of you was that genuine attachment. It was easy to detach yourself from your technical son because he was in suspended animation with a nonexistent consciousness. In some ways, he wasn’t even born yet. Not to mention Lex had plans for Superboy and would take the boy for himself in a month, so there was nothing you could do anyway. He was supposed to replace the man of steel if he ever went rogue, which would never happen, barring mind control, so you concluded Lex would likely raise Superboy as his son. The girls were different; you initially believed they would fulfill a similar role as emergencies and would be raised relatively normally till otherwise. That all changed when suddenly, without permission, they were released. When asked why they were being removed from their pods, you were given the worst possible answer.

Waller wanted them to be assassins.

Weapons.

Just like Cassandra.

You genuinely did try to kill Waller after that fact was established. The fight would result in many near-death experiences on both ends and with many dead guards before, you and she came to a compromise. They would be your bodyguards and Cadmus security, be by extension on your side, and only be sent on the utmost essential assassination missions. However, it would be on you to raise and care for them not only as a teacher but also as a parent.

You would also name them, but someone up in Cadmus granted them the names “Galatea” and “Divine” because that won’t possibly create a God complex. Establishing a sense of morality in children made to kill was difficult, but you managed. They weren’t as easy as Cass, okay, that was a lie; they could be absolute little sh*ts, especially Galactea, but you managed. It helped that, unlike Cass, you had other resources besides a translation device to support your teaching. Cadmus had G-Gnomes, which had telepathic abilities to allow you to push information in your head quickly and effectively. The Kryptonians must have been a species of geniuses because your daughters’ brains quickly devoured the knowledge more efficiently than any ordinary human could.

You did with some liberties on their education, admittedly. Mainly, you took them out to experience the world when no one was paying attention. Maybe you couldn’t stop them from being assassins, but they wouldn’t be weapons. They would have lives outside killing and fighting or mindlessly obeying a singular ideology. They couldn’t make any long-term friends at their age since their genetic coding was supposed to rapidly age them until their young adults before slowing down to a standard Kryptonian age rate (if Kyptonians can even age after adulthood). Still, they occasionally managed to play with kids around their then-current age once in a while. Being told you were a good older brother by passing mothers was quite awkward. It didn’t help that Divine learned about pets. You can only imagine your co-workers laughing behind your back from your two-hour-long conservation with Waller, the advantages of getting a kitten for the secret base.

You were also a bit worried that their temporary age acceleration would go wrong, but thankfully, it slowed down as planned. They looked older than Superman’s cousins despite not being a year old. The girls looked like they were in their 20s, and you haven’t hit 20, which led to quite a bit of teasing. Divine also began dying her hair black or, in his sister’s words, “Entering her Goth phase.”

“Oh, Dad ~” Galatea announced her presence as she all too often burst into your lab. There is a reason you no longer test dangerous explosive chemicals in your lab anymore. “Yes, dear?” you raised an eyebrow as you turned to her. “You got an invite; it's about time you got your anti-social behind to be social again” Galatea reveals an envelope from behind her back as you took it from her.

It's the f*cking Waynes again.

Bruce decided to show off his recent additions to his family. The man should just buy an orphanage at this point. At the very least, he changed his M.O. a little bit. Unsurprisingly, one of the kids was adopted, but the real kicker is the other biological; Markus was right after all, and the adopted one was also apparently a girl. At the very least, those sick jokes of Bruce being interested in young blue-eyed boys will finally end. You didn’t have the highest opinion of a playboy, but no one should be falsely accused of being a pedophile.

Galatea pulled the invite out of your hand, grinning ear from ear. “So, Dad, maybe we can see what the big Hubba is about at the party?” There it was; she couldn’t care about what the party was about; she just wanted to get to a party regardless of what the cause of the celebration was for.

“Sure, you have been cooped up in this place for a while.” You answered honestly.

Now that their aging is finally normal. The twins could start making longer-lasting friends. Sure, high society is the last place you would rather have them near, but logically, they already had training on how to blend in. Not to mention, any friends, barring toxic ones, were better than no friends. Regardless of where they came from, you argued with yourself. “I must ask, how did you convince your sister to go along with this?” You looked at your daughter.

“You know why she wants to see Gotham herself,” Galatea replied; you had the two avoid Gotham like the plague. Batman was the main reason for that; now you think Batman’s No Metahuman Rule rumor was just that: a rumor. However, most rumors have a smear of truth in them. While Batman might not discriminate (hopefully) against metahumans, he would no doubt be cautious of them, especially ones that aren’t native to his city. You have no doubt Batman already knows Cadmus and their less-than-stellar view of the Justice League, but they didn’t need to know about the twins. If he and, by extension, the league find out your kids aren’t simple metahumans but instead alien hybrids, that could cause some conflicts, especially if Waller were to discover how often you have been showing your girls the outside world.

“Then it looks like you two are in for a pain in the ass experience, the time you both learn just how much the rich suck” Galatea’s grin merely grew, “Dad, I think I’ve killed enough dangerous men to handle some arrogant pigs.”

You looked at your daughter, unimpressed. “Yeah, but how many arrogant pigs have you handled by not snapping their neck?” Galatea raised her hands in mock surrender. “Touché.”

This event will be an exciting weekend indeed.
---
The ride was easy, first class on your jet to New Jersey. Your sister was surprisingly affectionate when you arrived late at night, but considering you could feel the butterfly feelings in your gut, you both likely have missed each other more than you can admit. It was just you who met her. You don’t think she is quite ready to learn about her nieces yet, but with time, eventually, you introduce them to Samantha. She was a little disappointed that you were going to Wayne’s party instead of hanging out with her, and personally, you would’ve preferred to catch up with your sibling in private, but you promised Galeta you would take her and Divine to the party. You promised you would spend tomorrow with her and Markus before you left. As you grew older, you realized how distant your family was from each other, but it kicked in tonight. All that remains of your original family is you and your sister; you don’t think you can afford to be so apart again.

You watch Galaeta, and Divine admires Gotham from your rented limo’s windows.

“I was expecting this place to be the lair of the boogie man” Galatea watched the lighten-up city as Divine nodded. “Is this the city so scary for so many people,” Divine asked you. “Most people can’t bench-press tanks and fly faster than the fastest place,” you pointed out as you sipped from your glass of ginger ale. You have no aversion to alcohol but wouldn’t dare lower your senses in Gotham. “You two also know more than most as assassins that the greatest threats are the ones you don’t get the see” Divine nodded, accepting the answer.

The two followed you as you exited the vehicle and entered the building, but not before thanking the butler, Alfred Pennyworth, for taking your coat. Most would find it odd to know the name of a butler in a house you haven’t been to for years, but Mr. Pennyworth raised his master when his parents died. It reminded you similar to your relationship with Markus in some ways though your relationship did not carry nearly as much tragedy. The three of you sat down at your chosen table. The twins quickly became popular as you vaguely confirmed they were family, not something more imminent. You promptly began understanding how every stereotypical father felt as you saw flirting after flirting, sometimes from men and women that were already married. The first few wrong attempts amused Galatea, but she grew tired after enough had passed.

Divine was already prepared to snap the next of the first person who asked her attention; while her less-than-impressed expression made some people catch the hint, others seemed to be only trying harder. Before you had to tell Galatea to restrain her sister from turning Wayne Manor into the world’s most enormous Canyon, people quickly became silent and returned their seats. No one made any announcements, but people could almost instinctively feel it.

The Waynes have arrived.

Bruce Wayne was the first to wear his iconic black suit. Bruce has since reformed himself from a careless playboy to a legitimate business person and caring father. However, if you were to believe the rumors, he was still quite the womanizer. The next was his eldest son in his navy blue suit, Richard Grayson-Wayne or Dick Grayson if you want to be on his good side. You were not attracted to him personally, even if you weren’t blind enough to disregard the man’s handsomeness. You didn’t know him personally well, but he was kind enough to help you find your parents when you were lost once during a party and didn’t speak down to you. In another life, you would've wished he could’ve been your brother.

While Grayson was the most handsome of his brothers, his siblings weren't lacking in the looks department either, as Bruce’s second eldest, Jason Todd-Wayne, quickly proved. He wore a blood-red suit, his scarred lip curved in a sly smirk that signaled confidence, aggression, and mystery. His white tuft of hair made him stand out even more; you had a stronger relationship with Jason than Grayson but not by much. You had interacted with each other a couple of times. Despite his somewhat brash personality and his way of speaking reminding you of Markus, he was a fun and intelligent individual. Unfortunately, his supposed death about a year and a half ago mercilessly ruined the seeds of friendship. He was pretty tall, surpassing both you and Grayson, and now only an inch or two away from equaling his adoptive father. He only recently returned to the public eye about three months ago.

Oddly, the next one was not Timothy Drake, who was Bruce’s third child and arguably the most like him, at least from what you and the public knew. He was also the most likely to be Bruce’s heir until recently, as Grayson seemed inclined not to be part of the family business. Instead, a young kid wearing a black and green suit looked at you and the crowd with an air of superiority.

“That Damian, Dad,” Galatea whispered.

There have been jokes about Bruce adopting children like him, blue-eyed white orphans. However, despite his darker skin tone and emerald eyes, Damian Wayne was practically a clone of his father, and as someone who cloned people for a living, you would know. You didn’t need your body reading skill to see he was just as annoyed as his slight scowl showed. That said, his body gave off dangerous vibes that Cassandra did all those years ago. Now that you’re paying attention, all the Waynes’ bodies gave off the language of preparedness and danger. You could understand some self-defense training, especially after Jason’s demise, but this was completely different.

Your suspicions only increased when Duke Thomas-Wayne revealed himself next, the most recent addition to the Wayne family until now. Bruce had begun fostering the child six months ago after the boy lost both his parents, who were driven insane by Joker gas before adopting him once both parents, unfortunately, passed after three months. You suspect there is more to it than that; Wayne doesn’t just take in any orphans. There is usually some link; it is just a matter of figuring out what that link is. Some of Gotham’s elite believe Duke is a mere charity case or a tool to show how tolerant Wayne is by adopting a child of color. You scoff at the idea; Brucie is an idiot, but racist he is not; Lucius Fox and several other high-ranking people of color in Wayne Enterprise can attest to that. Duke was still new to his status, but he gave an admirable brave face that no doubt fooled most of Gotham’s so-called “finest.” What ticked you off about something odd was similar to Damian, Duke to carry a level of deadliness and skill. Too skilled, nothing in Thomas’ limited history said anything about him being a notable fighter, and Bruce didn’t take him in until six months ago. What the hell caused him to be a significant threat?

You pushed back those thoughts for when Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne finally appeared with a blond girl who had wrapped their arms around him. Tim was the third Wayne child and the most prominent of Bruce’s children. Tim is a bit on the short side, at least in comparison to his family, but how he holds himself makes him no less intimidating with his black and red suit. He was a balance of his brothers, not as approachable as Dick but far more so than Jason, but he was also so much more. His eyes had that peaceful but daring glaze. Tim would not start a fight here, but he would end one quickly and decisively. This a reminder of why you tried to steer away from Wayne’s business and gain their possible irk. Tim was also the only one of his adoptive siblings who used his new surname more than his original one, at least for the media. A fact that makes you wonder what his home life was; you knew his parents weren’t around when they were alive like yours, but you couldn’t imagine dropping their name so fast. Then again, you have never been a Wayne. Tim was the only one from high-class society, minus Damian, maybe, even if his parents were still new money before their deaths.

If you read the tabloids correctly, the girl Tim was with was Stephanie Brown. If you asked any first-class Gotham citizen who was Miss Brown months ago, people would ask who you’re talking about. In the last eight months, however, despite her lower social standards, Miss Brown managed to become a close friend of the Waynes, and going by how she and Tim look at each other, she is a love interest to one of them. You can’t help but chuckle at how many snobs here who would have no stepping on Stephanie like an ant months ago will try to butter her up now in the Waynes’ favor.

However, Miss Brown didn’t matter in the end. None of the people you introduced mattered when you saw who arrived next.

The girl came to follow right behind Tim.

A girl of Asian descent around your, her proportions were athletic yet slim. She had fashioned her raven black hair into a messy long pixie cut style. She wore a two-piece black evening gown with slits on the side with matching colored short heels as her pale skin practically glowed in contrast to her clothing. She stood tall and powerful, having the height advantage even over Bruce Wayne, who was a decent 6’2 and built like a football linebacker. She wasn’t just a beautiful woman; she was a goddess. Her necklace seemed familiar, too familiar.

That necklace couldn’t happen to be the remains of your translator prototype, but that would mean.

You slowly raise your eyes to meet her face, and she, in turn, does the same, and you both lock eyes on each other. Her beautiful, almost hypnotic brown eyes have long since matured, but they are undeniably hers.

“That-” Galatea began, but you instinctively cut her off.

“Cassandra,” you muttered. Your daughter looked in surprise. Cassandra must’ve read your lips because she gave a soft angelic giggle as she nodded.

“Yeah, how did you okay?” Galatea looked confused.

She wasn’t the only one; others had noticed you two staring at each other out of surprise or envy. Even the Waynes had begun to see, slightly shifting into a passive yet more protective stance, which your daughters did the same, but you couldn’t care less. Cass was here, and more importantly, she was alive. You were unsure how to communicate your feelings appropriately, but Cassandra shifted her body to convey one message.

“You are mine.”

Chapter 2: Shut Up and Dance

Chapter Text

Cass is here

Cass is here

That was going over and over within your head before you finally realized Galatea was snapping her fingers in front of you while Tim nudged his sister, causing both of you and your friend and object of affection to blush.

That didn’t stop either of you from admiring the other, though. You feel grateful that you kept up your training and chose one of your better outfits. You could be much more prepared still, but at least you were presentable. You should’ve brought something interesting like your shrink ray-.

Bruce thankfully cuts in with your self-desecrating thoughts as he tries to regain the focus on the crowd with a cough and a smile.

“I am glad to see that you all are enjoying the party thus far. This gala is Damian and Cassandra’s first time enjoying a special occasion in Gotham, so please let us all make this night memorable. Not too memorable, of course, otherwise I’ll start feeling nostalgia”. As if reading off a teleprompter, people laughed at his joker regardless of whether they found the Wayne Patriarch's little jab toward himself funny or not. Even though you laughed, you already stood out more than you care to admit, though you occasionally stole glances at his adoptive daughter. It is almost as if you were subconsciously afraid that she would disappear if you didn’t keep an eye on her.

In your defense, she did the same and didn’t bother to hide it.

You admit you zoned out what little of Bruce’s remaining announcements, probably just a general update of what Wayne Enterprises is up to and more promises of how he’ll help fix Gotham through a charity or opening new jobs. You have no doubts that Wayne will accomplish those tasks, but unfortunately, you see his future quest to improve Gotham as futile or, at the very least, a very uphill battle. You’re not a nihilist, but you doubt Gotham will ever be “fixed”; broken is the city’s natural state of existence. If it ever does improve, it will certainly not be in your generation.

Finally, Wayne finished his little speech allowing him and, more importantly, his family to begin dispersing. Usually, you have to admit you’re a bit shy, but tonight you are a man on a mission. A mission others would realize as they either got out of your way or were “politely nudged” out of the way as you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

Thankfully you weren’t the one only searching as you saw the target of interest effortlessly step around people, all while eloquently moving before any potential suitors. She gets to you faster than you ever could. It looks like she has been keeping up with training.

“Cass, I-”

She silenced you with a hug and felt your fears melt away. There was the still lingering fear that Cass wouldn’t recognize you or, even worse, that all of this was fake. You have seen and created devices that can trick the mind, but something about this feels too real to replicate.

“You’ve grown,” she hears her mutter. Her voice was soft, likely not wanting anyone to overhear the conservation.

You look up to meet her in the eyes.

“Me? You shot up like a weed. What has Wayne been feeding you.”

“I suppose I lucked out in having good genes, according to Tim.”

“Well, it works well for you.”

She voices her approval with another smile. You might sound like a broken record, but it truly is the voice worthy of a Goddess. Now the closest you ever actually heard the voice of a goddess is Wonder Woman, but you digress. You nearly jump in surprise as she takes you by the hand and then the hips.

“Dance,” She whispers.

It is not a question but an order once you’re more than willing to follow.

You both start small, only slow dancing, but gradually Cassandra pushes the both of you to get more and more creative as she realizes you can keep up with her lead. What began as traditional slow dancing became full-blown ballroom dancing filled with twists, turns, and everything in between.

“You have been practicing?” she asked in surprise as she spun you around.

“It reminded me of you,” you admitted, a rare smile shining.

It was likely only ten minutes at best for you; it felt like hours, and the only things in the current universe were her, yourself, and the dance floor. Truthfully, you had more moves to break out, but you don’t need to be on the first page of Gotham Gazette as the first person to try and breakdance at one of Bruce Wayne’s parties, no matter how tempting it was.

Oh, so tempting.

By the time your little session ended, you were in her arms with her smug grin staring at you before gently putting you down before the sounds of clapping grabbed both her and your attention.

You finally realized why you two had so much room to dance. People had begun stepping out of the way to watch you instead. The amount of attention made you blush so hard that you almost were comparable to a tomato.

“Embarrassed?” Cassandra asks quietly with a silent worry in her voice

“A little, not of you, of course. I don’t do crowds,” You replied under your breath.

Even if you did, you have worked in the lab for the better part of your life for six years. For you, the equivalent of entertaining the crowd is speaking about your latest device or describing the next project with ten to fifteen, maybe the occasional twenty colleagues. Dancing in front of at least 70 people was different from your usual task.

“We will go somewhere else then.”

You silently nodded as she gently yet firmly took you by the wrist, as you politely bowed as you two tried disappearing into the mass of people. You like to say you managed to get through the seemingly endless number of people, but your reunited duo didn’t even reach the door before Cass’ brother Dick blocked the path.

“Woah there, you two, party just getting started,” The eldest Wayne of the new generation said, flashing an innocent smile.

You lived with Galaeta long enough to know that smile was everything but innocent.

Cass felt the same as you could almost physically feel her trying to burn holes into her brother’s head with the way she was glaring at him. However, if Dick was affected by Cassandra’s silent anger, he hid it well. He continued to feign ignorance as he pulled you back into the party.

---
You are now 100% sure Richard Grayson is f*cking with you.

You were very excited about catching up with Cass personally, but instead, you found yourself in the smack middle of the Wayne table. You can already tell it will show up in the newspapers somewhere.

To be fair, half of them didn’t look like they wanted to break your spine into two. Dick still held his mischievous smile as you all sat down. Damian looked less than impressed with you but, at the very least, didn’t think you were his time to step on, and Duke, oh precious Duke looked like he held a pang of sympathy.

Unfortunately, the other half looks a bit more menacing. Tim views you with caution; clearly, he knows something about you, Bruce held the protective fatherly aura, and Stephanie looked like she was begging you to give her a reason to tear you down. You appreciate that Cass managed to find a family that cares. Now, if only you could stop being the target of their irk.

“So, Dr. Harrison. What brings you back to Gotham?” Bruce finally uttered, snapping you back out of your trance.

“This party, believe it or not.”

“Is that so? You didn’t come to Tim or Duke’s.”

“To be truthful, Mr. Wayne, I recently learned about this not-so-little get-together. I have been so busy for the last few years. Not to bore you, after developing the new element Divinium-”

“The one that may help with the energy crisis?” Tim interrupted, his eyes filled with curiosity

“The very same, still in the testing phase; we don’t need any accident that may or may not create another superpowered villain” You chuckled.

“Anyway, since then, I have been dabbling in the more…biological branch of science.”

“Grown bored with your old work?”

“No, my job; they love switching me around for different projects. I feel like a pinball half the time.”

“Who do you work for? Sounds like you in the big leagues.”

“Technically still for Harrison Industries, but we have grown quite the relationship with the US government, particularly the military.”

You technically work for the military as a soldier. Still, no one needs to know about that plus, you spent more time in a lab coat than doing any actual soldier duties, so you’re telling the truth in a way. Thankfully, the revelation you were working with the military didn’t change anyone’s opinion. It can be very controversial for some people with strong views for or against the organization.

“So what are you currently working on then,” Bruce asked as he took another sip of his drink.

“Confidential, I’m afraid,” You almost instinctively said

“That bad, huh?”

“No offense, Mr. Wayne, but if I told you half the stuff, I would have to kill you,” You jokingly replied

Half joking anyway

It appeared it worked, as he merely responded with a silent grin at your attempts at comedy. However, some part of you felt he also got the hint not to press for other reasons. Is he trying to find something about you? Bruce Wayne is a businessman and occasionally a politician. It is not out of line; he might be trying to coerce something out of you.

“There you are.”

Jumping slightly, you meet the grinning face of Galatea as she made herself at home by taking the seat on your left though she wasn’t looking directly at you but at Cass. The two seem to be having a staring contest before the former’s smirk only grew before turning her attention back on you. Cassandra, in turn, suddenly grabbed your hand under the table, an action that only amused the blonde more.

“You sly dog, ditching two beautiful women for another.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss…” Thoma led on.

“The name is Karen Starr, and my sister, whose giving death glares at everyone from our original table, is Linda,” Galatea replied before he could finish and turned to Bruce.

“You know, Mr. Wayne, I’m glad I can attract even a man as high status as yourself, but please refrain from staring.”

At least Wayne had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Apologies, you just reminded me of someone I know.”

Yeah, sure, Brucie, let go with that save.

Dick thankfully interjected; you didn’t trust your voice right now. You were just about completely done with this party if someone eyes your daughters like a piece of candy one more time. It's not like there weren’t other attractive people around!

“So, what is your relationship with Mr. Harrison?”

“Oh, this little player here? He is my little cuz, mother’s side if you’re wondering. He was kind enough to invite us. He is a bit shy but a family man at heart.”

“Family is important, even when you are often at each other's throats, sometimes literally,” Dick playfully nudged his adoptive father, who merely rolled his eyes.

A spark of jealousy flared before being drowned by sorrows. The relationship between Dick and Bruce displays the kind of relationship you wish you had with your father. No doubt Grayson and Wayne had their ups and downs in their relationships, as all connections do, but it was genuine or “real.” Still, you felt somewhat ashamed. Both Dick and Bruce have lost their fathers at younger ages than you and, unlike you, have sought relationships of all kinds besides burying your nose in a lab. Yet you still wish your father could be like Bruce was with his eldest.

You reap what you sow, you suppose; it is not like you were the ideal son either. In fact, When was the last time you forced yourself to visit your father and mother’s graves since the funeral? You could think of plenty of excuses why you didn’t, but that's what they all were: excuses.

“Is everyone right, Dr.Harrison?” You snapped back to reality when Wayne returned his attention to you.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to lower the mood. Just your fine family reminded me of my own. We weren’t so close, something I have begun to regret since I’ve grown older. I wish that weren’t the case.

You’ll kill that clown one of these days. Markus’ sister, your parents, if the rumors are true, even one of the Robin and countless others, be it retirement homes, schools, or orphanages. Joker had filled entire graveyards, probably obliterated bloodlines for sh*ts and giggles, and despite being active over god knows how many years, no one has put him down. You can respect Batman’s right not to have the guts to do it due to being a part of the law but what about the GCPD or the Gotham Justice System?

After all, you just need the opportunity despite all your gripes with your current position. You doubt the law would lock up one of their top eggheads that aren’t insane. Waller wouldn’t keep you in prison even if she wanted to. Too valuable, and if you believe you could break out whenever you wanted to if push comes to shove. If Lex could do it, there is no reason you couldn’t.

“You know, I felt something similar once; I have great memories of my parents but not too many. Honestly, if you asked me to think of good memories of my father now, memories of Alfred would pop up just as much as my Dad.”

“So what changed?”

“As I grew older, I realized family was more than just blood or legal terms. Alfred, as aforementioned. My doctor Dr. Leslie Thompkins bless her heart, was and still is like a mother to me. It only grew with Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, Cassandra, and Damian. No one can replace those we have lost, but that does mean we can’t keep growing our family.”

He wasn’t wrong; you did the same, if in a much different way; even with the loss of your eldest siblings and parents, your family had grown with the twins, and while he likely never knew, your son Superboy exists doing who knows what. In a way, you have gained just as much as you lost, and hopefully, you have gained something more as you glance at Cass. She caught your glance, and her iconic smile answered it.

“I must admit, Mr. Wayne, that is some of the best advice I’ve heard in quite some time. You’re pretty wise.”

“Wise? Hardly; I just had enough experiences that even ole Brucie can remember life's lessons.”

“Don’t know about that; last I checked, life still has lessons. It needs to clock you in the head repeatedly.”

The second son had arrived from wherever he had disappeared from. Compared to his siblings, Jason never really adapted to the high life. Not that he couldn’t, more that he wouldn’t. He casually sat between Tim and Duke, maintaining his sh*t-eating grin as if he hadn’t interrupted pleasant conservation.

You respect that; sure, his devil-may-care attitude isn’t the best personality trait for every situation, but damn, would it save you a lot of trouble with idiots if you could do the same. Then again, caring is the only thing from you altogether abandoning what remaining ethics your job has, so perhaps it is for the betterment of everyone that you don’t break the morals you deem worth having.

“I’m glad you appear in good health, Jason.”

“sh*t, Tools, is that you?”

You don’t remember being close enough to Jason for him to use your nickname, but in all likelihood, he probably remembered Markus always calling you that.

“Alive and well, though I have a say, the same being the case for you is quite a pleasant surprise.”

“Alive, yes, well, however many would disagree. Isn’t that the right replacement?”

Jason began ruffling his immediate younger brother’s hair, partially loving but primarily annoying, going by Drake’s expression—your held sympathy for him, not that it necessarily stopped you from lightly chuckling as you watched.

Replacement is an odd nickname, but if you remember the past correctly. Drake’s association and relationships with the Waynes didn’t come long after Jason’s death. It wouldn’t be hard to see Todd holding some misgivings to that fact though it looks like he and Drake have grown past it.

Still, these family antics and issues were not why you were here.

“Your new family is quite interesting.”

Cassandra’s frown shifted to a confused expression before slightly turning her head in your direction.

“Was that you?”

“Powers gave me complete control of communication; I would be a fool not to train my abilities. So yeah, you can speak in your head. No mind control, however, though I did once convince a guy to think he was going crazy for a minute” “

“Impressive”

“Not the only thing I have been training in, however.”

She turns entirely to you, more interested than before clearly.

“In what way.”

“Well, I doubt I am at your skill level yet, especially after all these years, but let's just say I’ve learned about fighting than just throwing a decent punch.”

Your excitement (and admittedly a bit of fear) rose when she smirked at your reply.

“I want proof.”

“Gladly, but perhaps another time unless you’re willing to give another wonderful show to these people.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Both of you lightly giggled before a slight cough from your daughter interrupted. You are beginning to feel highly tempted to develop some sort of punishment. You’re unsure how to punish someone who can casually throw skyscrapers, but you’re sure you can figure out something.

“Is our little conservation interrupting the lovebirds”

You were about glare at the blond but at the realization of what she just said cause, you quickly turn your attention back to the rest of Cassandra’s family. That protective glint back in their eye, and now you pretty there may be some murderous intent.

“I apologize; it's just me and Cassandra who shared a bit of history before Mr. Wayne’s adoption.”

“Is that so?”

Bruce sounded genuinely curious, meaning Cassandra never told them her time with you or explained her past specified enough to identify you as part of it. Honestly, you can’t blame her, her past was brutal, and you only personally knew and witnessed a mere slice of it.

“He saved me.”

It had been the first time you heard her speaking out loud tonight, and going by her family's stunned expressions; theirs as well. It also gave you a lifeline for you to explain yourself.

“We saved each other, really; not my place to tell you the details, but we had each other’s back quite often six years ago. Cass was might first real friend; unfortunately, outside interferences had forced us to separate.”

The brief flashes of that encounter with David Cain still ring in your head. That was the first time you came so close to death. You have had a fair share of close calls since then, but you know what they say: You never forget your first.

Dick was kind enough to give a sympathetic nod.

“Sorry, you two had to go through whatever it was.”

“Indeed, but now I’m just happy Cass is in good hands.”

She better anyway; otherwise, they are joining Waller and David on your list.

It seemed the family knew when not to pry as the conservation quickly shifted to a more non-personal topic, mainly the typical “how business doing” questions. It was painfully clear that everyone was giving vague, non-information answers, whether it was because you, a stranger, were among them or that they just have a thing for keeping secrets from each other, is anyone’s guess. Not that you’re one to judge if your sister knew half the things you've done; she probably would be terrified of you and call 911.

You managed to get some information from them, however. For one, the name Barbara Gordon kept popping up, and if you were a gambling man, they were referring to Police Commissioner Gordon’s daughter. She and Dick are renewing their old flame together, and Mar'i and Jacob like her; you don’t know who Mar'i or John is. Still, you’re going to assume they must be some surviving biological relatives.

You would listen further but felt a finger tapping your arm.

“Yeah, Cass?”

“Let slip away.”

“You think no one will notice?”

Instead of answering, she took your hand, and quietly the both of you disappeared into the crowds. Despite being more than a few hours, the whole event was still going strong with people still coming in. You two masterfully weave around men, women, and the occasional rowdy child before you escaped into one of many of the manors’ hallways.

The place was quite beautiful, but it was also massive. This one hallway alone held rows of doors that led elsewhere. You would have to ask for a chance to explore later as you two took a step of stone stairs after using one of the doors. It was clear you two were heading for the rooftop.

The air was cold and slightly windy but far from unbearable. The full moon was out, providing natural light around the area, not that the shining lights from the party below weren’t doing a good enough job. Cassandra walks a few feet away from you before kicking off her heels. Your response was to remove your shoes, belt, jacket, and all the “naughty” tools you might’ve snuck with you.

“Suprised you didn’t want to change into something fitting for this.”

“Won’t need it.”

You don’t doubt that, but you still have some pride to defend.

“Let's see if you still believe that by the end.”

You both get in fighting positions; Cass is the superior fighter, so you take a more defensive pose. Time silently passes before your opponent suddenly darts at you. Cass throws a round of punches you managed to block for the most part though a few clean hits make it through your defense. You quickly went low and tried to sweep her off her feet, but she saw it coming as she jumped over your leg.

She tried to keep the advantage and tried to kick you in the face while you were down ow, but you were prepared for that as you caught her leg and tossed her away. She quickly recovered as she rolled and got back on her feet in barely a second, and not a second too soon as you had closed the space between you two as you went for quick jabs. She dodges the punches and answers them with a quick strike to your nose. You didn’t let that stop you as you tanked the attack to strike her in the gut before backing away for some distance.

“Not bad”

“I glad to have impressed.”

You pressed one of your nostrils and blew, releasing the blood from your newly damaged nose.

“Look like you got first blood, however, Cass.”

“You still doing good.”

“Not good enough; time to kick it up.”

And kick up you did, charging at Cass before making rapid-fire high kicks; she shielded herself with her arms before catching your stretched leg and using it to flip you over. You surprised her, however, when you landed on your feet. Seeing a rare opening, you did what any fair gentlemen would do with a lady in a friendly spar: nail her in the jaw with a mean elbow hook.

“Who taught you.”

“Money and connections allow you to attract quite a few fighting mentors, though the first real mentor I gained by accident.”

“Accident?”

“A former hitman, nicknamed: Baba Yaga, I had saved his wife from one of those terminal illnesses I found cures for. They weren’t low on cash, but when I figured out who he was, I offered training lessons as an alternative payment to cash. I say it was quite the fair deal.”

You two traded fists and kicks for a good while after that. It couldn’t be any shorter than 15 minutes before you managed to grab and twist Cass’ left arm around her back.

“Do you yield?”

You quickly got your response when she reversed the grapple on you before putting you in a chokehold and kicking your legs down, forcing you to your knees.

“The better question is, do you?”

You wisely tapped out.
---

“So they aren’t your real cousins.”

“Nope, bodyguards”

You had given Cass a heavily abridged version of what had been going on with your life—withholding the sections that would probably get her and her family killed if found out. Wayne seems too crucial for Waller to kill, but the woman will go against the higher-ups if it means tying up loose endings.

“They don’t look all that impressive.”

“Looks can be deceiving; you, of all people, would know that.”

“Touche, still, they don’t have any weapons.”

“They enhanced, have some metahuman DNA. They are stronger than they look.”

Not a lie. The twins did have metahuman DNA. It's just you're pretty sure none of your DNA is what gave them super strength or the ability to shoot lasers. Pretty positive that it belongs to their alien half.

They may develop their unique powers, however. While it is more likely, they gain the same ability as you. The metahuman gene could sometimes be the lottery; they may mutate a completely different powerset from your own.“I hope that's not a problem.”

“Hardly; I met some pretty great people with powers. Though the jerks are also just as numerous.”

“For every powered being like Batman, there are also five powered people that want to kill everyone.”

“Batman doesn’t have powers.”

“Maybe not superpowers, but clearly, he has the strongest power of all: Money.”

“Money?”

“The man has a tank for a car, a jet, and presumably the primary funder of the giant space station we call the Watch Tower. That man has to be loaded.”

“Or funded”

“Bruce may fund the Caped Crusader here in Gotham, but you gonna be hard-pressed to tell me that Batman managed to convince the richest man alive to endorse a literal space station!”

“Easier than you may think. You never know what kind of relationship people have behind closed doors.”

The both of you pause at that statement before laughing. You almost didn’t notice Cassandra’s arm wrapping around you.

“I miss this; it reminds me of the old days.”

“During the old days. I couldn’t even talk.”

“You showed plenty of personality without speaking; I still can’t tell how many times I got flipped over on my behind during “play” time.”

“Clearly enough times to land on your feet.”

“Yeah yeah, so Miss.Winner, what's your prize.”

“Oh, I get a prize now.”

“Victory is all the sweeter when there is a reward, or so I have heard.”

Ironically, your offering had given you leverage over her momentarily, going by that faint blush on her face. Though whatever control you had quickly faded away as she smiled and stood up at full height, towering over you.

“Anything now?” a mischievous yet cute grin grew as she placed her hands on her hips.

Is it possible to simultaneously regret everything yet nothing at the same time?

“W-well, I am a man of my word.”

You pulled your shirt collar a little as you tried to get back up, only to fall flat back on your ass as rumbling and the sound of explosives went off. You could hardly believe what just happened if you didn’t hear the sounds of screaming weren’t heard. Cass helped you up as both looked over the ledge as men armed from metal pipes to full-blown assault rifles.

“Not friends of your father, I presume?”

Cass only answered your attempt at humor with silence. There are better times to joke around now that you think about it. You were about to apologize when Cass began heading for the stairs. Before you could catch up with her, she quickly turned around with a neutral expression.

“Stay here”

It wasn’t a request but an order as she quickly away and headed down before you could argue. Before you can follow her, your earpiece fires into your ear.

“Hello”

“Do Divine, and I have to put a tracker on you? Being a bodyguard means being around my target generally.”

“You have supervision and superhearing; you knew exactly where I was the entire time.”

“True! Just love boxing your chops.”

“Accelerated aging yet still the maturity of an eight years old”

“Technically, I'm not even one.”

“Wonder if Superman gets this much sass from his cousin.”

“Probably more, now back to business. How do you want to handle this surprise after-party.”

“If you can get away with it, save who you can but don’t give up your identity.”

“Yeah, I guess; I think I’m fine with a few low lives here croaking.”

“Don’t care; Batman is probably on his way as we speak so he can play the hero. If you encounter Cassandra, she is your priority for protection. Her family second..”

“I’ll watch your girlfriend if I see her, old man, don’t you worry”

With that call ended, you returned to the ledge. You’re not a hero by any means, but you're not one to just sit around to do nothing. Surely you can do something-

“Hey, we got someone up there!”

Your eyes widen as you focus on two armored thugs that spot you from the left.

“Not for long.”

Your eyes widen as hench prick # god knows what decided to try and remove you from this earth with a nice size grenade launcher. Something you only just got out of the way of as the section of the roof you were standing on lit up and ignited in a furious explosion. The area has been compromised, going with how unstable the roof of the building now appears.

At least you have an excuse not to follow orders.

---

You calmly walked down the steps and back into one of the manor’s many hallways as you readjusted your jacket and calmly pulled out your pistol. Nothing special, just a good ole Glock 17 with a silencer, you weren’t planning to kill people today, but here we are.

“Check this area.”

“On it”

You quietly opened one of the rooms for a hiding space as you calmed your breathing. You were waiting for the steps to come closer before diving out and firing. Your first bullet goes through asshole 1’s skull before shifting your aim to asshole 2’s chest and then thigh causing the man to collapse in pain.

“You killed Kenny! you bastard-”

You responded to his anger with a bullet to the skull. It was tempting to spare him for that convenient reference, but if they were close enough to be on a first-name basis, you didn’t need someone after you in revenge.

Unfortunately, silencers aren’t as quiet in fiction as in reality, as you can already see more arriving. Thankfully asshole #2 was packing some authentic weaponry with his nice Heckler & Koch G36 carbine for you.

Thank you, Germany.

As ground three arrived, you answered them with ten shots and promptly put them to sleep as you continued through Wayne Manor. The place was packed, but as you gunned down more criminals with the remaining bullets, it became evident they had to be looking for something or someone specific as you found a lack of thievery attempts. Not even the pricy paintings were taken off the wall.

Making another turn, you spot another thug trying to strangle a butler with his shotgun; it must be Pennyworth. You return using your pistol and fire two rounds at the bastard, one in the shoulder and then into the throat. You ran up to try and help the butter, but Pennyworth was already back up as he finished catching his breath.

“Need any help, sir?”

“No, I am quite alright, but thank you, Mr. Harrison.”

“You remember my name?”

“I remember all my guests, especially those who happened to keep hidden weaponry on them.”

“Guilty; I had one too many assassination attempts.”

“Well, I can’t say your thinking is wrong after tonight. But do please tell me next time.”

“Of course, I like to apologize. Is there any way I can make up for it?”

Pennyworth gets down and picks up his would-be killer’s shotgun.

“You can earn some brownie points by helping me clean this mess.”

The sounds of more people coming, and you’re pretty sure they’re not escaping guests

“Funny”

“And what would be funny, Mr. Harrison.”

“Considering what I imagine is a lot of trauma, Bruce doesn’t seem like the kind of person who wouldn’t approve of such lethal means, especially with guns.”

“Ah, you are correct about Master Bruce’s lack of desire for lethal means, but I assure you.”

The butler clocks his gun.

“I subscribe to no such niceties.”

You turn to see the trail of the deceased that wasn’t your doing.

“Yeah...I can see that.”

---

Whatever Wayne was paying Pennyworth, it wasn’t enough.

The man was a goddamn soldier, which meant you two complimented each other well. With the more potent weapon, the aging butler took the lead run at speeds that you would think the man was still in his 20s. While he provided the more significant damage, you covered him and provided finishing shots.

You two were near the finish line to the main party room when another enemy came from the corner to wrestle the gun from Pennyworth. Unfortunately for him, you were there to grab him from the back and throw him at the wall, and Pennyworth finished the job by shooting his attacker in the chest.

“Nicely done”

“Why, thank you.”

Pennyworth peers through one of the doors to the party as you stand watch.

“Hostages, how unfortunate it seems.”

“So I presume going gun blazing is out of the question.”

“So it would seem.”

“How is your family?”

“It appears Master Bruce is in a tight spot but does not see any of no one else, and yes, before you ask, that includes Miss. Cassandra”

“I wasn’t gonna ask that”

“Lying is not good for the soul.”

You groan at the Butler’s sassy nature before refocusing. Your temporary partner urges you to follow him as you enter the room, using the many tossed-up and ruined tables. What you assumed was the leader of this attack, considering he was standing in the middle of the room wearing the co*ckiest grin you had since you got here back to Gotham and considering the number of people of the 1% you had to deal with, that says a lot.

“My sympathies, ladies and gentlemen, I am just another hardworking citizen of Gotham here to make dues. You see, me and my friends here are part of something big, but first, we will need some pretty big names from this party before we let you continue your little celebration. Of course, donating to us will help some of us avoid acting on our itchy trigger fingers around us.”

Stealth will be required for this, you look at Pennyworth, and he silently nods as you both make your separate ways. You were taking the shorter right path, as Pennyworth takes the left. You quietly make your way to a better position to off this bastard.

While his back is turned, you knife one of his buddies over the table through the chest while covering his mouth as you pull him over to your hiding spot.

“First, we need Mr. Wayne, who has kindly volunteered; second, we would like Dr. Harrison to get up the stage.”

You?

You finish the job by piercing the mook’s neck as you take his assault gun, which unfortunately bleeds all over you. That will be a hell of a mess to clean in the laundry.

“Dr. Harrison, paging Dr. Harrison….”

The leader, whatever his name, grunted in annoyance as he looked at his non-existing watch as he ripped one of the hostages, a middle-aged woman, from her husband.

“Alright, you quack, here is the ultimatum you or one of the people here are going to reveal your location; otherwise, this nice fine lady is going to realize how much walking is truly a privilege and not a right. Assuming she doesn’t bleed out, of course. You got the count of five, kid!”

Won’t need to count; you have your answer right here as you wait for him to turn away as you steady your aim on the man’s skull. You are not one to take pleasure in killing such a low-level thug but considering he threatened relatively innocent people to force you out; you can make an exception.

“Boss, look out.”

“Huh-”

You turn to yourself, which you only answer with a smile as you fire the rifle, to miss as the room suddenly fills with loud noises and smoke covering everyone’s, including your vision.

Goddamnit

You can hear the sounds of people punching and screaming at each other. Cursing, you decided to risk the danger; you took out your emergency breathing mask and dived into the room to find your target again before some weird object suddenly flew by, knocking it out of your hands.

“More annoyances, lovely.”

You don’t get a response as your senses tell you to avoid the figure’s attack; he is shorter than you by quite a bit, not that it matters when he has a nice size bo-staff to beat you with. You were ready for this, however. Your teachers have taught you always to analyze, focus, and never panic. One doesn’t hire some of the best fighters and assassins to teach their bum to fight, and you will not bring shame to them.

Take a deep breath

Strike one! Miss.

He's an excellent fighter but arrogant from the way he fights. He thinks you’re less than a worthy match. He was toying with you.

Strike two! Failure.

He got you good on the left side of your waist, and you back away just before he can follow up with a strike to the head.

Strike three!

“You’re out,” you whisper.

You weave around the staff before yanking it forward and, by extension, the owner towards you, allowing to knee the little sh*t in the gut.

You don’t let them recover.

Deathstroke beat that advice in you during that summer together quite nicely.

He threatened to repeat that advice for free if you also brought shame to his training. A frightening thought you were not inclined to experience anytime soon.

Small fry tries to pull back, but you are already back on top of him thanks to your superior height and speed as you gut-checked him, and then you judo flipped him to the floor; with lightning reflexes, you took his staff and smashed it down on the assailant multiple times till they stopped moving.

You have had a long day so you might be giving into some aggression; sue you.

“That's what you get for underestimating me, you little…thug….oh…oh no.”

Your downed foe is not a thug.

It's a kid, not like a young adult kid either, like barely a teenage kid.

It f*cking Robin.

You curb-stomped Batman’s kid.

---

You continued staring at the downed child, checking his vitals.

Thank God the little f*cker is still breathing; You had no plans on pulling a Joker rerun.

Why did he even attack you?

You then remember the blood you were covered in, the fact you were initially holding a gun, and wearing a mask that covers your identity in the middle of a hostage situation.

You mentally slapped yourself and tried to put your attention back on the beaten child.

“Crap crap crap, okay kid, let get you out of her-”

Almost as if you had spider senses, you instinctively rolled away from the young boy as a familiar-looking staff nearly took your head off. You didn’t join Robin on the floor, unconscious or worse, because of your training. The smoke was still hard to see, but now your vision was better to tell this guy was wearing some sort of cowl, yet he was too small to be Batman.

No mistake, this had to be Red Robin, and if that was the case, he was not alone if both he and Robin decided to show up. An assumption that rang true as you used Robin’s staff to block another attack from behind.

“Didn’t anyone tell you bats cheapshots are unfair”

You kept your eyes trained one Red Robin as a female voice answered you back.

“Cheap shots are kind of our thing, that and beating people who get their kicks in beating children.”

“What are the chances you’ll believe me if I said he started it?”

“Higher than you think, less than you hope.”

Alright, two on one, and unlike the kid on the ground, they’re much less likely to underestimate you.

“Fine, let's dance.”

Your new opponents begin to circle you; no time to get co*cky. It is best to be on the defensive once more. You had little choice anyway, as their bo staff clashed with your own around your stolen one. Under better circ*mstances, would they be willing to reenact the final battle of The Phantom Menace with you?

“Can we call a timeout and maybe talk about this”

“Yeah, sure, preferably with you on the other side of a cell, right, Red?”

“Focus Spoiler”

“What kind of name is Spoiler-”

You wince in pain as Red Robin manages to find an opening and smacks you in the chest with his glorified steel pipe. Something his partner capitalizes on by trying to strike you in between the legs; you managed to awkwardly angle yourself last minute, receiving a nasty shot to the thigh but at least your family jewels are still in tack.

“Hey, I’m saving those!”

Spoiler merely laughed before she and her partner continued to try and double-time you.

You will fail at this rate; they will take you down, and you prefer not to go to jail in a misunderstanding. Sure, you’ll probably be out by tomorrow, but there is no way you will spend one night in Arkham or Blackgate if you have a say in it.

You try to regain an understanding of the situation; you and Red Robin are skilled in the bo staff. You can tie with him until you switch to something better. Spoiler is the weaker of two in this type of fighting but also the more unpredictable as you haven’t seen her file personally yet.

Guess she needs to go out first.

You press hard on Red Robin, trying to change your position from passive to aggressive as you try pushing him into a corner. Even with your decent strength and slight height advantage, the crime fighter held your blows off without being too overwhelmed; no doubt he had experience fighting skilled foes equal to or above his weight class.

Good thing he wasn’t your actual target.

As you predicted, Spoiler was going for another attempt for your back; you carefully aimed your staff and, without keeping your eye off Red Robin, suddenly jab the bo-staff back to hit Spoiler at her gut before suddenly raising the bo-staff high, disarming as well as uppercutting her with the bo-staff. You continue to attack her with jabs with the back half of your staff while using the front half to defend yourself from Red Robin, who understandably is more than miffed about you attacking his counterpart.

Perfect.

You took advantage of his anger, dropping your staff to catch his. In his brief shock, you delivered a vicious headbutt to the sidekick before stealing his staff, and with all your might, you swung 180 degrees to smash the weapon against the recovering Spoiler’s head enough to bend the bo-staff decently out of shape.

You are making a stupid amount of enemies tonight.

As the duo's female half goes to sleep forcibly, her partner tackles you to the ground. You try your best to block what you can, but with the sidekick on top of you, Red Robin has a significant advantage as he punches at any openings on your body. Cover the face? He goes for your waist and gut; cover your stomach and chest, then you risk losing teeth; your mask made breathing easier in harsh environments; it wasn’t supposed to be face protection—time to play dirty again.

You willingly begin lowering your guard, allowing the angry Robin graduate to continue showing no mercy with your face; you continue to feign that you are being overpowered and overwhelmed.

You slip your left hand into your pocket and slowly retake the knife as Red Robin goes for a finishing blow. You react at speeds the Flash would be proud of as you jam the blade into the boy’s thigh and twist harshly. The jolt of pain forced him to flinch, which were you needed to smack him hard with your right elbow to get him off. Not wanting to become a human punching bag again, you roll over on top of him, wrap your arms around the little bird’s neck, and start choking him out.

“Not so fun being on the opposite end of this, eh?”

You struggle to hold him in place, and your opponent gets a few nasty shots against your already bruised stomach, but you merely tighten your hold. Eventually, the lack of oxygen gets to him, and bird number 3 takes a nap. Having no intentions of killing one of the few good individuals in this city's cesspool, even if he did try to kick your ass, you immediately let go once you knocked him out.

It is a struggle to get back; you are pretty sure your internal organs are cursing at you, only to be drowned out by your bruised face. The mask you wore for the smoke is partially broken, revealing your left eye and cheek, now bruised and swollen. All that was pushed back to the back of your head as your earpiece went off again.

“I’m here, Galatea. Is everything okay?

“You know this is nothing for us, Dad; we managed to carefully get as many people out as possible without revealing ourselves.”

“That goo-”

You stopped as you leaned against the few intact tables to cough up blood before wiping your mouth.

“Dad?!”

“I’m fine. Well, alright, not fine, but not on death’s door. After a misunderstanding, I ran in with some of Batman’s sidekicks.”

“That being?”

“Let's just say it ended with me having to knock out three of them, and as you imagine, I am not in the best position from either.”

“We are coming in, Dad.”

“No, it's fine. I’ll find my way out.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”

“Gal, that not going to work like last time. I know you can understand-”

“Yep, you’re breaking up; we are coming in, no worries.”

Damn, that girl!

And bless her heart. It is a good reminder that more people sometimes care about your existence than you realize.

The smoke was beginning to clear up more, and you realized how successful your girls and Batman family were, effectively empty of all civilians. Still, three figures were standing relatively near you.

“Robin come in, Robin?”

“Kid not answering his comms? What else is new.”

“If it were just him, it would be one thing, Hood, but Spoiler and Red Robin too?”

“Probably too busy messing with each other or sucking face. I almost wish two-sh*ts was here; maybe that waste of a human being could help us place bets with his little coin.”

“Two-sh*ts? Really?”

“Oh, so sorry, I forgot how vile cursing is for crime-fighting vigilante families.”

“Fine, whatever. At least tell me we know where Black Bat is.”

“Looking for her boy toy.”

THERE ARE EVEN MORE OF THEM!

OH, COME ON!

You feel a hand grab you by the shoulder.

“That you, Wing?”

Yet another one, how pleasant.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about this”

You use your reaction skill to grab the young man by the arm before he can react, twisting it behind him as the smoke finally clears.

Nightwing and Red Hood

Batman’s greatest success alongside one of the few people in the world who can fight the Dark Knight and have a percentage of chance of winning was right in front of you.

Oh, and the latter of the two is willing to kill too.

You look at who you grabbed; it is some dark-skinned teen, presumably African American. His suit is like the polar opposite of Batman, an extremely brightly colored yellow. It must be Signal, that new Gotham Daytime defender.

“Why the hell is the daytime defender of Gotham at Wayne Manor in the middle of the night?”

“Well, uh…”

A gun clock goes off, and your attention span returns to the Red Hood.

“You not really in the position to ask questions, buddy.”

“f*ck you, criminals have shot at me, I had the crap beaten out of me by teenagers, and you have no idea the amount of paperwork my job is going to make me do once they realize I was involved in this incident.”

“They're a nice jail cell to help you with that last problem. Unless a casket is what you prefer.”

“Hood”

“Yeah, not on Wayne's property, but we can still make him wish he was dead.”

They are not taking you seriously.

You removed your Glock 17 from your jacket and pointed the gun at Signal’s waist.

“Alright, you both become quiet as possible! Or I’m putting one in his lap first.”

You turn and whisper in the kid’s ear.

“This a horrible misunderstanding, and I just want to leave right now.”

You turn back from your hostage at the back at the two men.

“I’ll f*cking end him if you try and follow me.”

You slowly backed away as you whispered back again to Signal.

“I really won’t; sorry about this.”

“You uh do know we all read lips right,” Signal answers awkwardly.

Oh

“Then why haven’t none of you attacked me then?”

Nightwing scratched behind his head.

“Mainly for distraction.”

“Distraction?”

Realization hit you like a train; you remember seeing three figures in the smoke, but only Nightwing and Red Hood were visible when they cleared. There is a non-zero chance that the third one is-

You turned to aim behind you, but it was already too late as an armored boot dropkicked you across the floor. The pieces of wood and broken glass not making the experience any kinder.

The Bat is here.

Why do you even try things?

Futile it may be, you ready your gun at the bat only to have it and your hand shot. Clutching your bleeding hand, you can only see the Red Hood with his smoking gun in his right hand; he probably has a smug grin underneath that helmet.

You focus on him, and Batman is your undoing; however, Nightwing joins the fray with speeds and flips that make you want to re-edit the Camdus files because there is no way he is not a metahuman. You want to say you give a good fight, but no, Nightwing just a better, and that ignoring the fact you had your behind mauled for the better half an hour before.

You admirably tried not to scream too much as the electrified baton collided with your face, as you fell on top and through a table. Karma from those earlier fights finally kicked in, images of David flashing in your head. Weak, so damn vulnerable, you were failing Cass right now.

You crawled out of the table’s remains and reached for your discarded gun. It looked pathetic, but you would fight until you were physically incapable. You nearly got it before Batman crushed your hand with your foot, and his fist raised.

It never came down, however, as a hand grabbed it.

“I think you boys had enough fun with him.”

The dark knight looked surprised as Galatea, now out of her disguise and dress, her usually smug grin completely wiped once she got a good look at you which she replaced with an angry frown before violently tossing Batman through a wall.

“How dare you. I thought of making this quick, but now this is personal.”

The two former robins were about to engage to assist their mentor before another wall came crashing down, revealing Divine in her standard attire.

“I presume you two were involved in hurting him, yes? How unfortunate”

Red Hood was about to snark, but he could not talk. The likely cause was that he was being lifted and strangled with one hand by Divine.

“The road of life ends here for you; you have reached a dead end.”

Chapter 3: The Pretender

Chapter Text

“Come on, at least try to make this fun!”

The blonde Kryptonian hybrid continued to play around with the supposed hero of Gotham as he dodged her heat beams. Of course, she could always flash fry the bastard, but that would be too easy and, more importantly, too kind.

This piece of work and his family harmed her father, and he would pay dearly for it before she ended his life. Plus, it has been a while since she found someone so weak yet enjoyable to play with. Despite her super senses, she nearly lost him a few times in this building.

In contrast, saying the caped crusader was having a good time would be a lie. He had contingency plans for a rogue Kryptonian, which he suspected to be the case here. Most of those plans had him being the element of surprise, not vice versa. Clark was outworld, and Diana shared many of Superman’s abilities and twice as many skills as Bruce; the enhanced hearing was not one of them.

“Are you even trying?”

His response, of course, was more batarangs which was an admirable but futile attempt against the Kryptonian hybrid whose heat vision reduced the iconic tools into dust.

He could only hope his sons were holding up better than he was.

---

They were not.

Mind you, not without tryng, but acrobatics and guns can only get you so far when your opponent has the gripe strength of continents. The moment he had attempted to step in, he had his well over 200-pound brother thrown into his face.

“So out of curiosity.”

Divine’s Kryptonian eyes glows its iconic red color.

“How much do you want me to cook your corpse?”

The two sons of Batman had barely time to react as her eyes began firing heat beams as they quickly.

“She is playing with us, Jay.”

“Well, the alternative is her killing us, so we are pretty lucky.”

“So, assuming she is the same species as the big blue scout, you wouldn’t mind sharing some of that hidden kryptonite on your person, right?”

“Well, sorry, this is not the crap I usually expect an evil X-Rated Supergirl to crash a sh*tty party. Now why didn’t you bring any?”

“I did; I just decided to leave it in the cave.”

They managed to duck under the fast-approaching laser beam.

“Well, we can’t exactly get, can we?”

“What about Kara?”

“Off-world with Clark; otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“...Batman is going to kill us, isn’t he?”

“Highly implying I won’t.”

Divine claps her hands, causing a resulting shockwave to blow the two away and what remains of the wall behind them.

---

“f*ck the Alps” was the first sentence that ran through your head as your body finally recovered enough from your beatdown to begin standing up.

This could have gone better.

No, scratch that; this was a level 20 apocalyptic event, third, maybe second, to the world ending.

You have been beaten black and blue; daughters are on a rampage, and of all the people that could’ve picked a fight with. It is against one of the last people you ever wanted to see: Batman himself.

Gradually regaining some of your strength, you slowly get to your knees and finally your feet, and you try to stumble back onto your legs. Unfortunately, your small enjoyment of ultimately getting back up was immediately killed by the sudden feeling of a barrel of a gun pressed against your neck.

“Rude”

“Well, you did try to shoot me earlier, kid.”

“I mean, if you give me the gun again, I can try again-”

A wack against your head silenced your remark.

“Lord, do you even want me alive? Assuming you need me alive, I need my head prick.”

“I could do it without the mouth.”

“Should’ve kidnapped another scientist then or perhaps a psychologist. You crazy-”

Sir Jackass, the kidnapper, was no longer in the mood to banter as he shoved forward the newly made entry in Wayne’s Manor. Help was unfortunately not arriving anytime soon. Your daughters are too busy playing around with their food; they get it from their father. Vengeance has a nasty tendency to make one petty.

You only groaned when they shoved you into one of their remaining armored vehicles before the door shut behind you. Two more armed men are sitting to greet you.

“Welcome, doc; you have been invited.”

“Pardon me; I seem to have lost the invite.”

The car takes a couple of moments to start, but eventually, you can feel the armored vehicle moving.

“So…”

You lean back

“What are your guys’ favorite Pixar movies?”

Hopefully, Mr. Wayne is handling himself better than you.

---

No one hates being Batman more than Batman himself. There were days, weeks, and sometimes even whole years where Bruce, for all his mental fortitude, would love to toss the costume into the nearest incinerator and, for once, try to be a normal son for Alfred and a good father for his children.

Though almost paradoxically, he never regretted putting on the mask, Batman allowed Bruce to make friends worldwide as much as he loves giving them (especially Clark) the cold shoulder. It was Batman. He even got the chance to be a father; It gave him strength and knowledge to lead Dick down a better path; it is the only reason he ever got to know Jason, Tim, Cass, and Duke, honestly. Hell, Damian’s very existence was tied to the mask. He doubted Talia would’ve bothered with him had Bruce Wayne just been a billionaire playboy.

He doesn’t regret his choice to be the Dark Knight.

That said, it doesn’t mean there weren’t days he almost had.

As he crawled out of the remains from what used to be one of his stairways, today was one of those days.

Not even midnight, and in one night, Zod was being rivaled by this woman in who is Batman’s currently least favorite Kryptonian. Assuming the woman in front of him is Kryptonian, though that heat vision more or least confirms, and Batman has been around long enough to know the difference between the Man of Steel and Martian Manhunter.

“You know I never understood why my bosses always feared you.”

To his credit, the Bat stood back up as if he didn’t already have broken ribs and a sprained wrist.

“What was your business here?”

“Having fun, but apparently, assholes like you like to ruin the fun by beating up fathers!”

So the masked figure from earlier is, at the very least, a father figure to his opponent.

His enemy is either a clone or a similar case to Clark, a refugee raised on Earth. He was going by the estimated age of both her and the masked figure from what little of his face Bruce managed to see, combined with her almost splitting image to Kara. He leans towards the former.

With speeds so high she might as well have been teleporting, the goddess in all but name and title stood before him, eyes glowing hot red that he could feel the heat radiating.

“So, any last requests?”

“Yeah, take a deep breath.”

Wayne Manor began filling with green smoke, not as much as it should considering the massive damages in this section of the mansion, but it was doing its job as he equipped his gas mask as overseen.

“Is that serious? The best you can-”

She begins coughing and clutching her neck before taunting the dark knight further. Batman didn’t need to be a master of reading facial features to see that somehow, she was even angrier than before, backing up and shooting to the sky.

“You’re welcome.”

A familiar female voice echoes in his comms. It appears Oracle has reached the cave after all.

“Hn”

“You've done this job for over 12 years; how is saying thank you is still a struggle?”

“She not unconscious. “

“Alright, switching the topic, that's cool.”

“That was a specialized synthesized kryptonite gas, should’ve acted like effective knockout gas for the likes of Kara or Clark, but this one didn’t work you [ more than pained cough and flew away.

“Your point? You’re saying she's resistant?”

“Correct, which means she either enhanced in some form or not fully Kryptonian.”

“Where do you want me to look?”

“What makes you guess I was going to ask you so soon?”

“The fact you told anything about what we're thinking, and I am the best hacker in this family, after all.”

“Hn”

“Where you want to look.”

“Something I haven’t had the chance to look into much; tell me what you can find on Project Cadmus.”

---

Galatea rises high into the atmosphere as she regains her breath; the batprick nearly got her despite all her advantages. The nerve of that bug, she will get her worst pair of heels and purposely butcher him with it.

Her train of increasingly violent thoughts was interrupted as her sister followed suit.

“So the gas got you too?”

“I hate kryptonite.

“You can cry about it later; we already left a big enough mess.”

“sh*t, Waller is going to kill us.”

“Yeah, it was not an ideal day to reveal our entire existence to the bat family, now was it?”

“Dad was in trouble; I thought we could take them, still can, I bet, if I find a big enough mountain.”

“Pretty sure that will kill everyone down there, including Dad.”

“We should probably grab him…and he not there.”

“What do you mean he not there?”

“He not here, clean your ears!”

“You know what? Not the time to argue. We got a city to search.”

In contrast to her original viewpoint, Galatea has begun to hate this city. Her first actual day here and one of the only people she loved much less liked, she got outplayed for her overconfidence, and now God only knows what else.

“This isn’t good.”

“What now, Divine?”

“This city practically built on way too much lead.”

It's official: f*ck Gotham.

---

“And that is why I believe that Ratatouille is objective Pixar’s best film.”

“What a safe answer.”

“I said it was the best objectively! I’m an Incredibles guy.”

“And I thought he had the safe answer.”

“Oh, and what's yours?”

“Wall-E”

“And like that, your accusations have lost all validity.”

A hard smack on the other side of the vehicle’s wall interrupts your little argument with the driver.

“All three of you SHUT IT, OR YOU ALL GONNA GET A BULLET TO ALL THREE OF YA HEADS BY THE END OF THE NIGHT.”

“Damn”

You nudge the guy next to you.

“Someone uptight tonight.”

“Ya, but it’s okay; Johnny can be a bit of a brat.”

“So where are we heading to anyway.”

“We are heading to the Iceberg to meet Mr. Copplepot.”

“Tyson, you weren’t supposed to tell him that”

“Oh right, sorry.”

---

Besides smelling like every rundown aquarium, the Iceberg lounge was lovely. Of course, you only had a minimal viewpoint of the rest of the Iceberg lounge as you were in the more private office section, which probably had air freshers.

At another time, you would almost be impressed by your surroundings.

There were loads of collections reaching from stuff disregarded or, more likely, stolen from many notable figures throughout history, ranging from belongings that once belonged to ancient warlords to valuable items once held by modern celebrities. No collection was more extensive than his articles from various heroes and villians.

The stout man stopped himself before scratching his chin, pretending he was thinking of something when his decision had long since been made.

And you watched as he smashed it down.

---

Or Kasumi

Even Cassandra Cain-Wayne was away.

It was the closest she had ever seen the Red Hood cry, and it was out of sheer boredom.

Alternatively, Tools figures out. There is a 50 percent chance he will accept her decision. He will even help her, ideally from within the cave with Alfred or Barbara during her Oracle days, or even replace her occasionally while she goes out to be Batigirl. She is very hypocritical; yes, it is for his own good. Tools have a terrible habit of getting into anything but ideal situations. Combine that with his durability and non-existent common sense to stay down, and trouble resulted.Okay, that was harsh; tools had common sense, more than most; if he was riled up enough, he actively chose to ignore it.She remembers knocking him onto his butt down more times than some of the men Cain; other dad used to train her only for him to get up. Sure, she wasn’t exactly trying, but that was impressive…and dangerous.

They will learn that while she doesn’t kill, she doesn’t lose either.

---
Whatever humanity you still somehow found in these bastards quickly evaporated as Copplepot and his thugs took their time with you as the resident punching bag, or perhaps pineta was the more accurate term. You grit your teeth, but eventually, groans escape, and soon there are screams.

“Is someone scared, too frightened to talk~”

No, you blabbering fool, you were thinking about the hell you’re supposed to get out of this mess. You've done your training for Escapade training before, and these guys were far from the best at typing the strongest enough, but that still leaves the whole getting away part. You were still human, and after having your sh*t effectively in, fighting everyone in this room plus whatever reinforcement that was on Copplepot’s payroll.

There were the twins, but you weren’t holding your breath.

They were assassins first and bodyguards seconds; even when you managed to convince Walker, the training was still all there. Not to mention, a bodyguard is supposed to prevent the kidnapping in the first place. Admittedly, they still had tracking skills they could rely on.

But Gotham would be a challenge; much of the city, especially the old parts of the area. Too many buildings were made of lead, making them impossible to see. You have yet to learn how skilled they are with their super hearing. Screaming at the top of your lungs would come off too obvious, and being quiet might just have your voice overlooked by the millions of people in this damn city.

All in all, you were in check.

However, the universe had other plans: the roof shattered above you and your captors as a lone figure in black looked back at you, or at least you think it did since it had no visible eye sockets, before turning its back to your enemies.

Or rather her back.

---

You struggle against the bastard as he pushes you back, grabbing whatever you can from the table before smacking him across the face hard, causing him to fall but not like the others, unnaturally so—twitching from the floor as red ooze poured from his wound. Blood is blood,

You clocked another thug who dared to harm you; you could feel the force of the item crack against his neck. The world was getting cleaner, making more sense. Perhaps Copplepot had the right idea; maybe anyone born or lived in Gotham was crazy.

This feeling was enough to drive anyone MAD.

No

---

Cassandra knew she was not all there; that would be an understatement. Both her Tools and Barbara have gone into mom mode and gave her a long, detailed, one-sided conversation about how wrong she was if they heard such thoughts—likely based on hard science and evidence, no less.

Or rather, she loves fighting for the sake of fighting.

Despite what others may think, even the most ruthless members of the bat family did not share this trait with her or, at the very least, not to the same extent. Bruce fought for justice and, even on his worst day, at least for vengeance; for her brother Jason, it was a similar reason, if taken to be even further extreme, to lash out at a world that damned him like many others.

Even Damian, fighting was a means to the end, even during his league of assassin’s days. His reasons for fighting proved his hard work and superiority; fighting was one of many ways to show that superiority. Now, while her little brother’s reasons for fighting have changed for much nobler motives, even now, she sees that arrogance and needs to prove himself better than his foes.

But for Cassandra, fighting in itself was the award.

The blood rushing

The sounds of bodies connecting, communicating, and deciding whose will and skill is superior.

She even enjoyed the rare moments someone actively managed to harm her to some extent. Not because of suicidal tendencies (well, not anymore), but it shows how she can constantly improve, a reminder that she is not invincible even for all her skill and, more importantly.

Gotham was as much of a haven as it was hell for her. It would be a place that would never stop needing someone like her. If crime exists in the shadows, the bats will hunt within them to protect the light.

This being a perfect example, she stood back to back with one of her precious people as they stood to finish off the remaining men surrounding them. She was still furious about Tool’s injuries but was busy being impressed by Tools’ work whenever she could spot him. Initially, She was glad he could defend himself, but she didn’t think he could protect himself this well. He mirrors her attacks as they continue to come in droves. Their synergy was to the point where she could jump over him, and he could swing below her without a single risk to the other.

Chapter 4: Love Deterence

Chapter Text

Steph wasn’t having exactly the best night.

It started perfectly, which, in hindsight, should have ringed imminent alarm bells for the hundred tiny Stephanies running through her brain to start screaming in panic about what kind of horror she could at least prepare for this awful night.

Unfortunately, she has failed to be as paranoid as Bruce.

Between her surprisingly decent day at school and the party where she would finally hang out with her boyfriend, that didn’t include beating up Gotham’s thousandth mugger or murderer.

Not that she minds though dates; it's just she wanted some variety, ya know?

So reluctantly, she found herself looking for this party; after all, not only did she get to ruffle the feathers of some fancy big wigs by merely existing. She was briefly entertained by how many people stumble over their words in her presence. She was not sure how to speak with what they saw outside.

And then this “Tools” fella showed up, and everything went promptly to hell.

She would be honest; she didn’t trust him as far as she could kick someone across the room. He held an almost machine-like stance, his eyes studying his surroundings. He also wasn’t unarmed either. The fact he was part of a powerful family didn’t help; she was not going to lie; she was expecting him to attempt the sixth Bruce Wayne assassination effort this week.

Unfortunately, the universe couldn’t make things even semi-simple as assassination because then the connection of Cass was revealed. Stephanie didn’t see herself as a jealous girl; Cass could use more friends, and that came from her bestie. However, it didn't take the world's greatest detective to know this was not another friendship. This was something far more annoying to deal with: Romance.

The worst part was that it was mutual; Tools stopped looking like his namesake and began emoting. He was at least somewhat honest with them, and dare she say it was reasonably friendly. It was clear, however, that it was only because they were Cass’ family. To be fair, that feeling was entirely mutual. He didn’t look down on her at the very least, and as long as he wasn’t another supervillain or thug, they would probably rank high in people of Gotham’s one percent that she could tolerate, maybe even like.

Of course, that was until the beatdown.

Now, she wasn’t salty about that loss (she was).

However, the fact that this guy could briefly run through the family gauntlet and come out without a full-body cast was a worthwhile achievement and a problem. No random villain, much less a citizen, should be able to do that. This means this “Tools” was trained, a frightening combination considering he was brilliant, too. This means if he has trouble, taking him down is going to be anything but fun.

It didn’t help that, going by at least three corpses amongst the pile of broken bodies, he wasn’t afraid to kill.

He was going to have to wait. However, Steph got to prevent her best friend from making one of the biggest mistakes of her life. The man she was beating whose face was beginning to look less than a human being and more like hamburger meat.

“Black Bat”

She reluctantly approaches closer to her friend, the black costumed heroine still in her bloodlust fury. She is unsure what is more problematic: Cass is too angry to be aware of her surroundings or so angry that she doesn’t care.

She wanted to be careful now; she didn’t want to be accidentally thrown through a wall.

“Easy, girl, you can stop now!”

Wow, she is that angry. Did Penguin piss into her Cheerios that much over this one guy?

“YOU’RE KILLING HIM!

With little choice, she finally pulled Black Bat off the criminal; her reward for doing so was a black fist centimeter to her fist as her partner stared at her, and her mind gradually realized she now faced a friend rather than a foe.

“Phew, I was a bit worried about friendly fire there. I see you handled pest control here.”

No response

“Uh…wanna talk about it?”

“They hurt him.”

It is clear that the fury in Cassandra was far from calm; despite being back in control, she seemed almost angrier than she was, introducing the criminal's face to her fist, speaking said criminal… it's Penguin.

It just had to be Penguin.

If it was some no-namer thug, she could probably help sweep this issue under the rug. Bruce is human despite how he acts or thinks; he will not pay attention to every goon, and GCPD wouldn’t care as long as he breathes. Which meant the family didn't need to risk their alliance with the GCPD. Penguin, on the other hand, Bruce is going to be all over that. This means he will confront Cass about it, and, oh boy, that is not something she needs to see.

“Just…take 5, alright? Come with me.”

Stephanie offered her hand; Cass took it reluctantly, fearing she would be harmed in her current emotional state, but she gently grabbed it. The former led them quietly to another room before hugging the latter.

“It's over, Cass, we got it, time. He is going to be fine.”

“I can’t…I can’t lose him again.”

“He is not going anywhere; help is coming. We’ll make sure nothing bad happens.”

That finally did; her friend eventually returned her hug.

“Sorry”

“Don’t be, fat bastard had that beating for a long time coming. Just wait here.”

A silent nod was Cassandra’s response.

One problem down; at least several hundred to go.

It's okay, she can work with this, she has been through worse-

The screaming in the other room cut her off; she rushed into the next room to see a particular former hostage standing over Penguin’s body, clearly intending to finish what Cass started. Instead of using their fists, they used a now broken glass bottle. Tools lifted the chubby man by the cuff of his shirt, glaring holes into the older crime lord.

“You ever touch either of them. I will make it slow…”

If Penguin was ever going to give a response, his assailant had no chance to give a reply as he proceeded to jam the remains of the glass bottle he was holding into his eye. There was no hesitation; his only thought was to ensure the “creature” in front of him learned a single lesson by any means necessary.

He dropped the shorter man before turning around, sensing her presence. He stared at her with calm eyes.

“Wanna turn too?”

He then collapsed again, hopefully for good. Just in time, Spoiler began hearing the sounds of police sirens.

Joy
---
“What a night…”

The aging commissioner of Gotham watches as the police cars and ambulances come and go after being filled with beaten criminals. Anyone who wasn’t making arrests was scoping the area. It is not every day the GCPD gets to raid the Iceberg lounge. Going by what some of his men are bringing out, it might be a while for even Copplepot to free himself from this mess, even with his connections. Not that it will stop him for good; he’ll bust out eventually, as he always does as most of Gotham’s rogues do.

This is all the more reason he needs to be there to send them back in, as far as he is concerned.

“About time you showed up.”

He turned around to meet the caped crusader, who wasn’t there less than a minute ago. It appears he wasn’t having a much better day either, going by his outfit. Then again, if there were better days in Gotham, there would need to be a Batman.

“Normally, I would mock you for being a bit late, but I can see you were busy.”

“Wayne Manor was attacked first by mercenaries.”

“And aliens, don’t forget aliens.”

“More data is being collected on that.”

“They shot laser beams from their eyes and flew from what I heard. We already deal with powered maniacs, we don't need aliens now.”

“I can list a few hundred powered humans that can do the same or look like they’re doing the same.”

“I prefer sleeping tonight; I don’t get enough as it is.”

"Light on men tonight, I'm assuming most are still investigating Wayne Manor?"

“Yeah, most of the department is still over here. Just when I thought we might have a quiet night for once.”

The commissioner pulled a cigarette and lit it up before returning to look at the building.

“What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Your men better get ready for the upcoming weeks. Gotham is going to be more hectic than usual.”

“I busted out the champagne, meanwhile Keep me updated, and hopefully, said weeks will at least be fast and drag on ... and you are already gone aren't you?”

The silence of the night was his only response.

“Hmph, one of these days, I’m going to get him for once.”

He admires the full moon that shines on the city, a reminder of their light even in this everlasting darkness that has plagued this city for ages.

“I don’t know what comes after, but…I hope wherever you two are, you’re proud of him, Thomas and Martha.”

He sighs before returning to work; respecting the dead can wait. The people they left behind still have savings, too.
---
Contrary to popular belief, unconsciousness is not sleeping, not normal sleep, anyway. So when you wake up in a hospital bed, the exhaustion of the last few hours nearly decided to put you out of your waking misery instead as you repeatedly slip in and out of awareness. Everything was blurry the first time around, but you could hear a comforting voice occasionally as they guided you back to the resting place of sleep.

Unfortunately, when your vision did return, it was with the last person you wanted to see—a confident, dark-skinned woman of the above-average weight class. Her unimpressed gaze at you did not fool you; you saw that look she had given you and others before. It usually meant displeasure, and for many, that could mean death or worse.

“Had a nice nap?”

“Yeah, I was surrounded by hotties on an island resort. You’ll have to be there next time.”

“You have lots of explaining to do, bringing two of our projects-”

“Two of my daughters, who should be allowed to leave their home once in a while, that doesn’t involve killing someone. How was I supposed to guess it would be the same night that some crazy mercs wanted blood? My superpower is to be able to communicate with anything nearby, not predict the future.”

“Sounds like excuses.”

“What do you want then?”

“Results, because if it were up to me otherwise. You would be in a ditch already.”

“Yeah, right; I have seen how far you’ve gone to get rid of someone. Waller, if you wanted me dead. We wouldn’t be having this conservation; you would’ve put me in a coffin in some disclosed location by now.”

“And you underestimate me if you think I believe you’re as vulnerable in your current state as you make yourself out to be. Not to mention, you got two emotionally charged humanoid kill Sats waiting for me to try something.”

“Yeah, most failsafes against Kryptonians kinda fall flat when they realize they fry you from space, nothing something your standard green rock can fight against. Anyway, why are you here then beyond the satisfaction of seeing my ass being bedridden.”

“You are in the hot seat; your little kidnapping has put too many eyes on you, worst of all Batman’s. Effectively immediately, you will be pulled from nearly all Cadmus projects until you’re given the clear.”

Insulting but expected, yesterday’s event will echo for weeks nationwide and even longer in the home of the world’s most paranoid superhero.

“Who is taking the lead?”

“Emil Hamilton”

“The f*ck, Waller?! That piece of sh*t? Do you want someone effective or a worthless disposable”

To say you and fellow Dr. Hamilition disliked each other was an understatement. The man’s very existence was an insult to your own. Some people believe it was because you had a more sympathetic view of heroes than most on Cadmus or that hm taking DNA without permission from Supergirl was…unethical. Neither would be wrong, but they weren’t the reason, or at least not the main reason. You might think that most Cadmus are ultimately fools or that taking a piece of a person’s essence without their input is not okay. It doesn’t change the fact you have and continue to work for them. You might’ve not taken the DNA, but you still used it. To judge Hamilton at least too hard would be hypocritical.

You hated the bastard for being a self-righteous rat.

He had let his hatred consume him after that incident with Superman; you were not a good person. You can live with that fact, but if there was one virtue you could remember to align with, it was loyalty. The man was quick to turn and pleased about spilling what he could about the Man of Steel.

He was no Lex Luthor either; he didn’t pretend to hide his hatred for Superman from the public, and he eventually stopped hiding his contempt for them in time. The professor, in contrast, still pretends to be friendly with his nemesis, taking advantage of that friendship extended to him, all thanks to one bad day. Perhaps regretful, the clown prince of crime had a point regarding specific people.

However, it was that alone was the fact Emil would even be in your top 100 scumbags. What peeved you is the same reason Waller and you don’t get along. Which was quickly life becomes disposable when it is for the so-called “greater good.”

“Well, I’m glad I could get underneath your skin, but I can do a hundred better things now.”

“Put me back on”

“Did our previous conservation 5 minutes not just establish that it is not happening anytime soon?”

“If you let that man take heed, he’ll just create disposable weapons.”

“That just might be the right course of action after all, but if you wish to change that, then fix or recover from this embarrassing mess, or you just might find the return of the Ultimen Project. Though there might be a job for you, nurse your wounds, get your act together, and contact me when you’re prepared.”

She gave you a final glance of annoyance before leaving you and your thoughts in the hospital. Usually, you would give her a chance at the last word so quickly, but she brought up the Ultimen. That project genuinely disgusted you; now you might’ve just brought it back. What else can be said other than to lay back and hopefully avert such a nightmare?
---
The next day was significantly better when you awakened.

She was by your side.

Cassandra’s face buried itself against your shoulder, using it as a makeshift pillow. You didn’t dare move as much as you wanted to study every centimeter of her face again. Her powerful yet gentle presence was enough; you didn’t want to lose that. You both could easily sense the other was awake. You were both too good at reading and feeling body movement to be fooled into believing otherwise.

Her heartbeat was beautiful; the rhythm of life was something you could listen to for hours.

Perhaps it would’ve been more romantic to lean in with a kiss or say something witty, but sometimes, the best expression of love was not through communicating it. There would be time for all that and more, but not now.

Sometimes, simply being there for someone you loved was enough.

The cosmic irony was not lost on you, and while you will most certainly curse out the universe and whoever is running it, be it God, a legion of Gods, Karma, or randomized chaos at a later date for now, at this moment.

It has your genuine thanks.
---
Markus was the one who picked you up. It is not like you would let almost anyone else do the deed.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same, eh Tools.”

“Indeed, old friend, hopefully, we don’t get shot this time.”

“Old friend? Really? I’m not that old and “old friend”? Yeah, alright, Grandpa. Stop reminiscing like you’re in your golden years and keep up with the rest of us in the present.”

You stare at him for a moment before laughing. Your second father joined in shortly before paying much more needed attention to the road.

“So Miss. Wayne, eh?”

“It's Cassandra…our Cassandra.”

“The mute kid, that just…wow…”

“Who's reminiscing now?”

“Hey, you would be too if her bastard first dad beat you up.”

“I was kicked into a car and shot by him.”

“Yeah, but you’re young; you can walk that stuff off.”

“What kind of childhood did you come from where you walked that off?”

“You had it tougher than most kids with spoons in their mouth, kid, I’ll give you that, but Downtown Gotham is still a different breed.”

“Apparently”

You watch the city's quality gradually change for the better, with apartments and houses growing less and less close to each other for those who could afford it. To see your home again, after all this time. Homesickness was hitting you harder than you intended or planned.

“Your two friends are with your sister.”

“Friends”

“A blondie and her raven-haired twin.”

The twins

“Did they visit me during my little unconscious phase?”

“I’m not a big brother, so I have no clue how often they came by, but they visited you at least once or twice. Said they felt guilty for you covering for them in that Wayne Manor attack.”

Covering them? Now, that's a laughable lie with context. 99% of the time, it is very much the opposite way around with that insane durability.

The guilt, however, is entirely possible, personally, the fact they saved you from getting your spine rearranged or worse by the second most intimidating person you ever bear witness to a pretty darn good job. It didn’t take away from the fact you were kidnapped under both their watch and far too many close calls to boot. Your girls took pride in their work, so to fumble the ball and to fumble it with one of the few people they cared about most likely hit hard.

“Are they getting along?”

“Like sisters from another mister.”

“More like the nieces and the fun aunt.”

“Wait, that means…Jesus, are they cloning people or something?”

“Yeah, I got a boy somewhere too.”

“Lord have mercy, anymore divebombs.”

“Less, you know, the better; I don’t mean that as a threat, but Cadmus is sorta butthurt about this stuff. They will kill us or try to kill us if this gets leaked from us.”

“Noted ”

Markus exited the car and helped you stand up. You were offered a cane but decided to be a little stubborn for once and politely declined.

“So, how long must you wait for recovery?”

“Officially? Six months”

“And in reality?”

“As soon as I can get my ass back down in my old lab? Hours, I prepared myself for something like this.”

“Are you aiming to be the next Batman?”

“I have better things to do than dress up kids as traffic lights to go fight crime.”

“Yeesh, someone’s opinion about our local hero went down.”

“He was part of the hefty list of people who kicked my ass; forgive me for knocking him down a few tiers.”

“Karma for not visiting more; you gotta appreciate family.”

“That is…true; let me start working on that.”

“There is hope for you yet, Tools.”

The door cracked open, and sure enough, some of the most influential women in your life appeared before you. It was almost perfect, just with a few more members, and it would be the ideal family for you, but nothing perfect, and you’ll gladly take the family you still have over none.

The twins were the first to notice you, or more likely, been watching you far for a while now while entertaining your sister. That supervision is something else; how the hell couldn’t it see through the lead of all things? It still seems weird to you even after all this time.

Of course, you didn’t have much more time to think about that as Samantha practically smothered you.

“Oh Tools”

“Still sore, Sam, but yeah, sis…I missed you too.”

You return her embrace. If there are any positives to your current situation, you can be around more for your remaining non-powered family. You can’t be too publicly affectionate; however, no doubt Waller or some other higher-up on Camdus will start moving your sister up in people to threaten to keep you in line. You let her enjoy the hug as much as she wanted; how could you not? She likely feared being truly alone.

“Normally, I ask where you want to go tonight, but something tells me you want us to stay home.”

“I already almost lost you once; I'd like not to risk that again anytime soon.”

You sit down as you join Galatea and Divine.

“So, how have you two been?”

“Just a little R and R, hero.”

“Yeah, Linda and I just want to thank you for the save earlier, personally.” Galatea gave a reward-winning smile at you.

“The pleasure was all mine; what's important is you’re safe.”

“We might not look at it, but we are pretty quick. We can move when we truly want to”

“We’ll have to get into a race sometime soon; put that to the test.”

Samatha playfully nudged you teasingly, and a slight chuckle echoed from her.

“You’re not running anytime soon.”

“I can heal pretty fast; get my body to get its sh*t together.”

“That is not how the human body works and language!”

“I can build something.”

“Of course, you would find an excuse to head into your lab again.”

“My last social event wasn’t hot.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious about fighting for Piñata rights.”

The Twins snorted, ready to join in on the fun.

“We start a rally; Linda and I can begin just lining rows of Pinatas in front of Gotham City Hall.”

“I think they’ll appreciate more than the last Two-Face incident,” Markus responded.

“The one with the vat of acid?” You asked.

“No, no, the one with the giant silver dollar coin.”

“Some of these villains, man, sometimes they do unforgivable sh*t as the merciless monsters they are one day, and then they pull this.”

Samatha pulled a bottle of wine and began pouring glasses for everyone. Everyone nodded thanks as Markus continued.

“Imagine running out of so many ideas that you must rip off D-list villains like Penny Plunderer.”

Divine snorted

“Penny Plunderer?!”

“Long story short, a petty thief was obsessed with pennies. He even had a giant penny. No, I’m not bullsh*tting you; I still have the newspaper section of it.”

“No way, you have to be making this sh*t up. That's so freaking dumb.”

“We got a literal clown as our biggest common threat in this city.”

“So what happened to the giant penny?”

“No clue; rumors exist that it was given to Batman.”

“No shot? That is so unfair! I wanna see the giant penny!”

You shake your head at the ridiculousness.

“Wait until you hear about the bad samaritan, don’t get me wrong. The guy is a decent assassin, but what sort of name is that?”

“What sort of assassin has the name Samaritan in it?” Galatea asked.

“Well, I mean, if I went around killing people, my samaritan skills would probably be pretty crappy, not going to lie.” Divine responded.

Sam snapped her head as if she had a realization.

“You think he does good deeds right after he kills someone?”

You smiled at the thought of the assassin shooting some poor bastard before looking for an old lady to help cross the street.

“We had stranger, admittedly; who could forget Clock King or Condiment King?”

“A lot of royalty for such mid-level villains.”

An idea begins to form in that head of yours.

“Markus with me.”

“On it, kid.”

The ladies watch as you two head downstairs into your lab before quickly coming back up with a massive whiteboard. A sh*t-eating grin on your face as you placed the whiteboard opposite the room from your family before passing markers.

“Let's rank these sons of guns. Who should we do first?”

Divine rose her glass

“Killer Croc, he A-tier. He is not afraid to bust some heads and is pretty hot.”

Galatea stared at her sister like she had grown a second head.

“You cannot be serious.”

“What? It true! I ship him with Orca foremost, but I can fantasize.”

“Furry, you are furry.”

“Scalie is the more accurate term, but I’m not. Not that there is anything wrong with that per say”

“The fact you can accurately correct me doesn’t help the allegations. Anyway, but I mean, come on that face…I’m not one to discriminate, but he not datable.”

“I won’t let society’s prejudiced views on beauty blind me, his muscles, however. Now that I don’t mind blocking my vision…”

You write down the human lizard into A-tier, which is not what you initially expected, but who are you to judge your daughter’s choice? Okay, that is a lie. You would like the villain to finish a GRE and redeem himself first, but those standards aren’t the hardest to meet.

“Alright, next?”

Samantha raised her glass.

“Harley Quinn, C-tier”

Markus raised an eyebrow.

“She's pretty popular now. Heck, I even heard rumors she is trying to turn a new leaf.”

“Well, this is a villain tier list, so is she turning good suddenly? Then that is a slight against her. Plus, she has relations with Joker and Poison Ivy, absolutely trash tastes in love. If even I can see all the toxicity signs, then she should’ve too.”

“Clown bastard, I get it, but the talking garden trash too?”

“I can’t stand radical misanthropes.”

“Fair

“Didn’t she blow up a lot of kids on Christmas?” Divine turned her head.

“Still mid”

“Nevermind then”

You place the Jester Fem Fatale into C-tier; somewhere in space-time, people are probably pissed.

“Ok, so for my pick, I place Ra's al Ghul in…”

You five continued to name-drop villain after villain into the tier list; some you agreed with, others you all got into shouting matches as the drinks kept coming. You’re pretty sure your daughters were faking as Kryptonians shouldn’t be able to get drunk from Earth alcohol, but who knows, maybe that human half was acting up in these relaxed stations. Overall, the event was utterly stupid, and you know at least ten people who would tell you that it was a waste of time.

You wouldn’t have it any other way, you thought as you tried to remain standing during your final pick of the best villain.

“...and that is why Kite-Man is the best f*cking villain ever to be reproduced in Gotham City; thank you for listening to my Ted Talk.” You flustered out as you put down your computer.

Drunken claps met your presentation.

“Beautiful”

“I cannot argue with the logic.”

“Nerd even brought out the math.”

“Where is the bathroom again?”

You all decided to slump down on the living room couches. Well, barring Markus, who decided the floor was more comfortable, the whole gang at least made it in the fitting room. You let a final quote as you and your sister lay against each other on the oversized family couch.

“To Kite Man! Hell yeah!”

“HELL YEAH!”
---
You were in drunken slumber when someone lightly shook you; against your better judgment, you decided not to pretend you were asleep to meet the issue. Your face meeting Samatha’s

“Hm?”

“Sorry, it just…I wanted to ask you something.”

“Is it something big?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

You rubbed your eyes, accepting that it probably can’t be tomorrow. Next thing, you should start making it something that can destroy drunken status and hangovers. Heck, that lowers a lot of car accidents, now that you think about it. It would save a lot of trouble for fellow underage drinkers as well.

“Ask away”

“Would you mind being an uncle?”

Okay, that is certainly a question to wake up to. You two weren’t precisely close until recently, but you’re never wholly ignorant of Sam’s life. One thing she never really does is relationships, emotionally or physically.

“Adoption or artificial insemination?”

“Wouldn’t mind a kid of my flesh and blood one day, but…there are so many kids in this world already that could use a good home. Charities, orphanages, and foster homes can only do so much, so I will adopt.”

“Got your eyes on a lucky brat, or is this something you just finished thinking hard about?”

“There, this kind toddler lost her first pair of adoptive parents in a fire recently. You should see her; she has the cutest brown eyes!”

“I look forward to it. You have my blessing, but I’m unsure why you need it?”

“We are family, little bro; I don’t want to drop a new addition to our chaotic life without foresight, plus… she will need a good male figure. I would appreciate it if you could help with that when you’re around.”

That gives you pause.

Are you a role model?

Hardly a good choice; you've done a lot of damage in your line of work, most of it indirectly, yes, but it didn’t change you were involved. Ignoring that, your little shootout with Waller had ensured some people would never be coming home. Sure, you were defending yourself, but you also tried to kill Waller first, which made them try to kill you. How many of those dead men had a family?

You shake your head; this isn’t about you. It's about the kid.

“I won’t be the best example now.”

“And I doubt I’ll be the best mom, but the point is making sure they’re loved and we are there for them. I still miss Mom and Dad often, but they weren’t always present.”

“Then, for them and you, the very least I can do is try.”

“That's all I can ask, and I know you will get it right.”
---
Once you were able to recover from wrecking your brain and working through your still-sore body, it was time to do some work away from home for the next few days. Of course, you couldn’t stay cooped up for too long. Cass and her family wanted to invite her to a more private special occasion: Alfred’s birthday. You’re not entirely sure what gift a badass butler would need, but you’ll figure it out.

Hopefully

Your standing with that family is 50/50, and you hoped to change that. It would also allow you to confirm or deny some suspicions of your own. You’re set in stone on who Black Bat is, but that didn’t ensure who the rest of the family was, though you were also 95% who they were.

Indeed, an issue if they and Cadmus butt heads, considering what the girls did a few days ago. It was almost inevitable, and if that came to pass, then sides must be chosen; more importantly, it meant once more you were on the grind together with more strength.

All of that paused when Waller asked for you. Ask being ordered to. Whatever she has planned for you couldn’t wait, which couldn’t be good news for your sanity.

“Glad that you could finally join us, Dr. Harrison.”

You sighed at your superior’s unneeded sarcasm.

“Unlike you, Waller, I have people I care about, like a family.”

The older woman glared at you with fury beyond the time you two nearly killed one another. Dare you say it? Tears look like they are about to drop.

“How dare you?” She uttered under her breath.

That was uncalled for, admittedly, now that you think about it.

“Sorry, that was a low blow. I…I apologize for that one.”

For the cold-hearted witch she could be, it was easy to forget that Amanda was human and not one without tragedy either. She was a wife and a mother of five. The essential word being was.

Years before you ever even heard her name, she had lost her eldest child, Joe Jr., to a mugging gone wrong. Only six months later, her eldest daughter Damita was nearly raped and ultimately killed by a serial rapist who went by Candyman. Shortly afterward, her husband, Joe Sr., died avenging his daughter’s death by performing a mutual kill on the bastard. Needless to say, Waller knew the unfairness of the universe more than most.

She glared at you for a moment, but perhaps in a rare moment of empathy and understanding, her eyes softened before looking away.

“Apology accepted”

Your current location is just one of the many business fronts of Camdus, an excellent place to disappear, as Waller shows, because once you enter the elevator, she presses a button on her watch, causing you both to teleport. Where exactly, you have no idea; you just made the teleporters. You didn’t have a choice where exactly they would place said teleporters. It is not like Cadmus trusts you enough to give a name and place for every base.

Not beating a step, she grabbed a helmet from one of the lockers in the new room you two were in before continuing. You placed it on without a beat as you followed her down corridor after corridor.

Cells filled each of them.

Many empty

Many more that were not

The Cadmus classic

What seems forever that even you began to be unnerved by what they stored for you. Fortunately, your answers were answered as you two finally stopped before your boss eventually turned around.

“Just a reminder, I am allowed to kill you, and no one will find the body.”

“I’ll let you keep thinking that; what in the cell.”

“No, what, who?”

“What the f*ck are you-”

You peeve in the cell and meet the form of a child curled into the corner. She wore a heavy coat, a blue scarf, and fingerless gloves. What stood out about her, however, was her snow-white, unkempt hair and blue skin.

You could feel your blood boiling.

“Explain”

“First name: Maureen. Last Name: Walch, Code Name: Permafrost. Initially, she was a homeless little thing who ran off when her mother passed shortly, and her stepdad walked out. She became one of the many victims of the Quantum Juice Incident in Dakota City. Caught her seeking around where she wasn’t supposed to be, and now here she is.”

“So that's how she got her powers.”

“Initially, we thought so too, and we do believe it is what awakened and further enhanced her metagene, but no, we believe we can blame that on her genetics.”

“Found the biological parents?”

“To keep it simple, it appears our friend Killer Frost had at least a one-night stand with someone, and the child here is the result. It's not the only thing she might’ve passed on to the kid. Permafrost suffers from mental illness, though mainly voices in her head instead of getting off on snuffing the life out of others like her mother.”

“A homeless little girl shouldn’t be here, Waller. She should be in a home or at least a damn shelter.”

“I didn’t come to talk ethics with you, Harrison; we’ll both be hypocrites by the end but don’t worry, you might get your wish. ”

True, but that doesn’t mean you must like it.

“Anyone else?”

“one more”

Urge to kill rising.

No doubt sensing your less-than-approving aura on the subject matter, Waller continued walking down this increasingly feeling-tightening hallway. Controlling your temper about this took far more control than you care to admit. Still, acting on your displeasure would be foolish at the moment. You’re not prepared to burn this place in the ground (yet), and more importantly, you’ll just be acting negligently, which is a death sentence when facing Cadmus, especially on their home turf.

“You seem pretty miffed.”

“You know my history, Waller; I don’t particularly care for children being used as weapons.”

“And yet the twins-”

“You have low blows, Waller, and I have mine. Let bury the hatchet, and do not test me.”

“...hmph, fair enough.”

As you moved down deeper into the base, your head began ringing. The walls, the walls themselves, are screaming. Typically, you could filter out your powers if you were forced to hear every person's voice, every inanimate down to the tiniest piece of dust they go mad. You didn’t just master your abilities of nigh-omnipotent levels of communications for the heck of it.

You needed to master it just to survive.

Yet, it meant nothing to the walls of this cell Waller stopped at; ironically, it looked hardly scratched up. The walls, the ground now, and even the bars didn’t lie. Whoever has been kept here has been in agony. An agony so intense that it violently attached its pain to its surroundings that people like you could feel.

“Are you alright?”

“ I’m…fine; what the hell-or rather, who the hell are you keeping there?”

“That would be Ace.”

Against your better judgment, you finally decided to peeve into the cell. Once more, it was a girl, younger than even Maureen. On the plus side, she seemed physically okay for the most part. None of her clothes were torn, and she appeared at least visually healthy, with normal colored skin; you have to admit, for the briefest of moments, somehow, this might not be as bad as you initially thought.

That was, of course, you looked into her eyes, the dead and tired neutral expression on her face that held too many dried tears, likely. However, her eyes gave away the truth. They were the eyes of someone trapped in their head.

“What is her history? What have you done with her?”

“Her parents, Elaine and John, are dead, and she has no family. Before you get trigger-happy, no, they weren’t killed by us. Everything else is classified.”

You turned your head. You’re not the highest-level member of this organization by any means, but you were nowhere near the bottom, which means this is top-level severe stuff.

“You know how I would feel about this stuff, Waller. It makes more sense to keep me in the dark, so why go out of the way to show me this?”

“Because you’re going to be their handler, publicly their new parent.”

“I’ll do it.”

“That quickly, huh? Not even going to ask why or anything else.”

“If anyone else before me cared enough for either of these two, I wouldn’t be here, but since you brought it up? Why?”

“The official reason and true reason for most of the council is that while It's not a one-on-one comparison, despite their recent slip-up, your girls are some of the best agents we have on missions. Superpowered, intelligent, but most importantly loyal. The closest we had was the Ultimen, but that took deceptive, and once they became aware, they became a problem. Galatea and Divine know precisely who they are and don’t need convincing. They are willing to fight for us even if it points.”

“And your reason? I raised the two from literal birth, and they were inflicted with accelerated aging that only recently stopped. No matter how short before me, these children had lives before all this.”

“I know that you will care. I can find someone who can easily lie to either of those girls. Manipulate them into thinking and promising they can be more than just assets. You have both the empathy and financial resources to do so. ”

She took a moment to let that settle in. You know she is manipulating you into taking the deal to prevent another Cassandra or Ultimen, but sometimes, nothing is more manipulative than the truth itself. She is right, even if you busted these girls, and whoever doesn’t deserve to be here out. They’ll just captured again. You cannot face your bosses alone without casualties, and that was something you weren’t willing to take.

“Is that all?”

“I am willing to do anything for the nation and, if the threat is big enough, the world itself. There is just about no line that I won’t cross. That doesn’t mean I like it; I’m a mother doctor, and if I can even a few of these people some piece of a decent life, then why not?”

“Maybe that cold-stone heart people think you have still beats a bit Waller.”

She flashed a smile, a rare genuine one your powers could tell.

“Don’t get used to it; this is just making sure you are worth bothering having around. However, if there is one plus side to this, it is if you want to return to your old position one day. This is how you do it.”

“I already said I would do it.”

“No shame in giving you more motivation; everyone knows your hatred for your replacement.”

“Well, that's not untrue.”

“If there are no more questions, let's get you out of here. They become your problem next Monday. I hold underneath all those doctorate is a psychology degree. You’re going to have to be quite the therapist.”

“I don’t think there's a therapist alive that will make this easy.”

“All the more reason to make it your problem.”
---
You sat in silence in your lab as Markus pushed the last of the latest equipment down. You wanted to help but insisted that you sit back and let him handle it. It wasn’t just a matter of pride but common sense; what you’re about to do is incredibly stupid.

“So Tools, what the plan again?”

“We are waiting for her, or rather waiting for her to stop hiding.”

“She here?”

The bodyguard was looking at both of you while a woman of eastern descent walked out of the shadows before you. Except for Richard Dragon himself, she is the ultimate hand-to-hand combatant as far as most of the world is concerned: Lady Shiva.

“You tracked me down personally, which means you desire to challenge me or want me to train you.”

You silently dismissed Markus to go back upstairs as you approached her.

“The latter, if that's not an issue.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Very well, what is the payment?”

“I have no need for your money at the moment, so your wallet is safe; we test you to see if you’re worth the effort at the risk of your life, and lastly, all my students will fight to the death eventually when I call it in. You will be my stepping stone, or I will be yours.

“These terms…are acceptable.”

“Then let us begin.”

You two began circling each other like a pair of rivaling wolves over food. Truthfully, you did not mind the idea of fighting her to the death one day. She has been on your list of people to eliminate after a while. You learned a lot from researching her as you looked for potential masters throughout the years. You learned she was in cahoots with the League of Assassins; you know she had a resume of impressive apprentices and also knew she has tried to and, in most cases, have successfully killed said apprentices.

She was Cassandra’s mother, the girl you love will never be safe as long as Shiva draws breath.

Lady Shiva will die if she continues to walk her current path, even if you must personally choke it out of her.

Chapter 5: Cats in the Cradle

Chapter Text

"Normal talking"

"Mental communication"

===

Man, you didn’t feel like being here, the cuts and wounds have only begun healing after getting your ass promptly kicked around by the female assassin earlier, and that was her playing nice.

You do not have regrets, but if you were someone with decent common sense,…this would be the time to get second thoughts. However, considering you live in a world where the most powerful and most intelligent beings in the world love playing dress up and kicking each other asses, perhaps being a little stupid has its perks.

At least, that is how you justified your decisions.

“So Mister Masters, former CIA and well uh see here, oh yes, overall prick.”

The man across the table merely glared at you. The prison he has been living in since he was taken down has not been kind to him, then again, considering what prisons handle former government officials, much less federal agents. That Masters here wasn’t breathing through a straw was probably a miracle.

‘“I hope you didn’t send me here just to mock me, kid. I faced worse both in and out these bars.”

“Well, considering you’re in prison, I hope you have thicker skin, at least considering your record.”

“What do you want?”

Straight to the point, good makes this easier.

“Look, Masters, I know you and your friends were doing business for the country. I know you hired a guy. Another US agent, agent Johnson, right? Yeah, you got him to shoot quite a few people, primarily innocent people, no less. I know you got him to even do so in the first place by lying about how they were terrorists. I get it. I do. Hell, I work for the government, too. If anyone knows how deep in sh*t we got to dig through it me.”

“Bullsh*t”

“Hey, I got enough power to drag your sorry ass out, didn’t I?”

“...”

“Silence is golden; glad you believe me. So just one more thing.”

You slide a picture across the table, a picture of a tall young asian woman.

“This is the last girl you hired Agent Johnson to kill, the girl that caused him to second guess and choke up at the last second and couldn’t go through with the shot, and finally, the girl that kicked you and your men’s behinds when you tried to off him instead? Is that right?”

He squicked his eyes at the photo, probably trying to get the ole peabrain working again. This clearly was the case, as you could see his neutral, annoyed face grow into an angry, vengeful one.

“Yeah, that the bitch. Destroyed all our physical evidence on her, not that there was much. We couldn’t identify her anywhere. As far as the country and presumably the world was concerned, she never existed.”

“And yet you tried to end her.”

“I’m just a cog of the machine; just cause the CIA doesn’t know her doesn’t mean some higher agency didn’t. If I had my way, I would’ve had Johnson just blast her, and I could’ve been in f*cking Scotland as intended.”

“Well, we can agree about you being a cog, at least.”

You smile; this guy is just making your day.

“Well, now that we know you can ID her, we can finally get you out of this dump. You see, this person is a great interest of mine, but you see, not many people know what she actually looks like. She normally hides under some costume, but I guess she had different plans then.”

“She a f*cking cape; that explains the bullet dodging. Probably some metahuman bullsh*t.”

“Well, it's time we rejoin you with your old co-workers.”

“Damn, you really into this case if you could get me out considering my record. What the catch?”

“Oh, that well…”

You stood up and calmly pulled out your pistol.

“You won’t be leaving here alive, Mister Masters. Our conservation was somewhat less dull than the other loose ends, but I really must be going. I have some kids to pick up, and you have a ride to hell to take.”

You waited not for a beg or plea as you lined up the shot and fired three times—two in the heart and one in the noggin.

A sigh escaped your mouth; this was the most minor stressful thing you had to do in a while. This says a lot about your current life choice if murder was one of the more manageable tasks to handle. It helped this was simple and planned and not out of nowhere and had to be done utterly-
---
“Reckless and brutal,” Bruce stated in her face for the 14th time in this 2-hour marathon as they “talked” in the Batcave.

Calling this discussion talking would be a stretch, however, since only one was actually talking.

They both knew her trying to argue would only expand this conservation that allowed her dad to put out how he saw things as they were. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t share her responses inside her head.

“So let's review this last time; you ran out without telling anyone.”

Learned that from the best.

“Then, as soon as you knew where you needed to go, you ran inside without backup or at least surveying the place.”

Time was short.

“And then you beat the Penguin to a centimeter of his life.”

Okay, that one, she felt guilty for a moment. When she joined the family business, it was to stand for what Batman stood for, and that was never to kill again. That was something she could get behind; hell, she picked up the same motto after her first and only murder.

No one understands how detailed she can see someone die from unnatural means—watching even their tiniest movements twitching. It was just sad, and it was horrifying to experience. Despite sharing an ability like hers, she never knew how Tools could be so willing to kill.

This wasn’t the first time she nearly killed someone again; she remembered the time a mad scientist made her mistakenly believe he was the Joker who killed Batman, not too different from how the fear toxin from Scarecrow works. Had it not worn up at the last second, she would’ve killed the man, thinking he was the clown prince of crime.

She felt like she could never repay for that.

Every life she saved, every person who continues to breathe thanks to her, was in her way trying to pay a contribution to that debt she felt like she could not pay. Batman taught her that. What they do is, in a way, atonement; of course, his atonement was different for feeling too weak to save his parents, but that is how it was for most of the family. They became a hero to atone for something, even if that wasn’t their original purpose; in one way or another, it did become that.

This wasn’t to say it was her only reason. However, she had since grown to enjoy being a hero for simply doing what was right and not out of guilt or obligation. She was more than just her sins; she could have a life both in and out of hero than trying to redeem herself. She was perhaps not as social as her brothers or had not been on as many hero teams, but she had met and worked with many great people.

They were not all her friends, but they were all bonded in the ways that manners.

And then her past crept up on her, in many forms she was aware of and in other ways she had yet to decipher, but the night a couple of days ago was by far her biggest.

She has actively struggled with the idea of killing recently, and it has been bleeding in her fighting. She had never considered premeditated murder since that run-in with her father, and even then, she couldn’t go through with it in the end. She certainly had her close calls with killing, the aforementioned scientist when she nearly killed the shadow thief when she used his fighting style against him for the first time, or recently Penguin, but those were outbursts of emotions or by accident. She had little control over outside factorsat the moment.

But when she saw Penguin’s goons prepare something against her crush. The thoughts of putting them down ravaged her head. They were not mere flashes either; they taunted her brain as she barely avoided tearing each man apart.

One is definitely not walking right for a while, even after a trip to the nearest hospital. The worst part is that she wasn’t even guilty, which paradoxically made her feel guilty. Was she backtracking? What convinced her to be so brutal?

Actually, she knew the answer.

Likely, so did Bruce.

“Black Bat being benched.” The older man said trying to sound as neutral as possible despite the harsh punishment.

Which meant there was no room to debate.

“Can’t”

“You’re too close to this case; your emotions are blinding you. You are becoming unpredictable, even to yourself. Black Bat is being benched. I don’t want you to risk getting someone or yourself hurt beyond repair.”

“More will come for him.”

“We keep a watch out on him, but you are being irrational. You nearly killed Penguin, and you nearly killed his men. I won’t let you fall, Cassandra.”

She glared at him for a moment but ultimately submitted. As much as she wants to get in his face, the results would not change with Bruce, and she empathizes with him. He doesn’t want another Jason, another Red Hood.

Their relationship is better now, from what she has seen and heard. The two had a bad relationship for the longest time when Todd returned from the dead. It is a relationship that has since healed, but scars still exist, and wounds are often reopened when conflict arrives.

Bruce doesn’t want to fail another child; he doesn’t want another young life to believe that killing is the only way to deal with evil, no matter the situation. Hypocritically, she wants to tell him that he wasn’t at fault. Jason’s decision to kill was ultimately his; he needs to forgive himself.

But Jason’s death… was not her’s to confront her father with, not her to tell him to feel about it.

“Keep me updated.”

“Very well.”

They both knew he wasn’t being truthful, but it was the best she would ever get unless you were Alfred or her eldest brother if he was in a slightly better mood. Trying to get her dad to speak would be like talking to a brick wall.

“You’re excused. This could be an excellent time to brush up on your other skills. Barbara wouldn’t mind you brushing up on your hacking talents with her. You’re no longer there, are you?”

Silence was Bruce’s answer.

“Hm,”

It was not quite as fun when he was on the other side of that technique.

Still, a sense of pride passes his heart; any day his children show they’re on their way to surpass him in the future is a good one as far as he is concerned.

At least that is what he thought before his computer flared up with Red Hood’s face.

“What's wrong, Red Hood?”

“Done with your latest lecture, old man.”

“Tell me this isn’t a house call.”

“Shiva is back in town.”

So much for a good day, Bruce.

---

“Well, how's the progress going, Oracle?”

“A pain in the ass Red Robin”

“So why do you sound happy?”

“When you outhack Brainac, Calculator, and Lex Luthor’s systems, take over the internet and locate any island that disappears in and out of existence. Facing a challenge while not in a life or death situation is a blessing.”

“What kind of island?”

“Was a mission with the girls; don’t worry about it.”

“Famous last words”

“Not like you haven’t faced weirder.”

“Touche but true.”

The third Boy Wonder took a moment to study the house across.

“What are your thoughts on him.”

“No clue; Cass never brought him much until he popped into our lives.”

“Think he would be a problem?”

“Definitely, I don’t think he had us in his sights before, but now that we've given him more than enough reasons to at least look into us. He will be a problem, assuming he is not one already.”

“Cass?”

“He fought alongside her and is good at looking for detail; if he hasn’t figured her and, by extension, us out yet? He going to very soon, and I don’t need to be Detective Chimp to know that.”

“Shhh, keep that name down; Bruce is still annoyed the ape beat him in figuring out the last case back in April.”

“Please, he acts annoyed, but he actually enjoys the challenge, it is all part of the game between them. They even have a chatroom.”

“I…I beg your pardon.”

“They even have Nigma join them, not that he knows the two’s identities.”

“We live in a very strange world, Oracle.”

“Amen, and speaking of which we in. Don’t get too excited, though; it's not much, or rather it's not as much as we need yet.”

“It never is, so what is this guy’s angle?”

“Well, he wasn’t lying about working with the military; he is an official member of the US Armed Forces.”

“I could tell you that, so why bring it up?”

“Cause it goes deeper, he actually works for A.R.G.U.S.”

A Black OPs organization that claims (keyword being claimed here) to support superpowered individuals and organizations such as the Justice League committed to metahumans research and deal with metahumans in their particular way whenever the heroes can’t notice.

They’re also shady as hell, morally ambiguous beliefs, intents, and most certainly actions. To say Bruce wasn’t too big of a fan was an understatement. It did not help that it was all headed by Amanda Waller, another can of worms.

“What is his history? No doubt he is a researcher, but he was able to take out Robin, Spoiler, and myself. That is not something any scientist can do normally.”

“He already had previous training before joining, though under whom and how long is unknown, at least on this device. If I had to guess, probably sometime after his experience with Cass.”

“Tracks, losing your only friend and feeling helpless would get anyone who doesn’t give up to find a newfound determination most don’t have or should need.”

“How do you know if he is friendless?”

“I know from experience what sorta lifestyle he probably had myself.”

“Oh, Tim…”

“It's fine, codenames, remember?”

“Right, anyway, he mainly has been a mere researcher and support, but he is good enough to see some combat. He has even been on Team 7 and Checkmate for several missions.”

“Great...took out anyone we know?”

“Let me see…He helped take down the Network, an organization where criminals help eachother avoid the attention of authorities, heroes such as ourselves, and the more…colorful villains. He killed Dr. Friedrich Baum, who used his skills in genetics and cloning to crate sapient clones for villains primarily to murder them to be either decoy bodies or…ugh…

“Oracle?”

“Alternatively, he would use their body to sell as meat for cannibalization; needless to say, no one will be missing him anytime soon. He is far from the only monster on the list; we can also thank “Tools” for the disappearance of Dr. Karl Hellfern.”

“Dr. Death, he has been quiet for a while. We thought he just went underground to plan something, but I guess it was quite the opposite.”

“I’ll have to look through more with time, but from the names I can recognize, he hasn’t taken out anyone particularly innocent…directly, anyway. He certainly likes taking down organizations, mainly human trafficking ones.”

“So we dealing with someone with Jason’s level of morality?”

“Who knows? It seems he had no issue with the issue of Suicide Squad, and he has been behind a couple of genetic-related projects himself, especially with metahumans; he was involved with developing hero groups such as Gen 13, Next Men, and, most recently, Project Cadmus. Seems like some sort of branch of A.R.G.U.S that will supposedly keep the Justice League in check.”

“Well, not that I am an apprentice of the world's greatest detective, but if there was any particular organization that could use two Kyptonians on their bankroll…”

“Yeah, those two wrecking balls are with forces with him; I almost feel bad for the guy. He going to get Superman and Batman’s irk.”

“World’s finest dads.”

“Well, let's not go too far, Clark maybe, but Bruce...B minus maybe.”

“Hey, he is a good dad for the most part, and this is coming from his son.”

“The son he let going around in bright clothes to go beat up the scum of the earth?”

“And what your excuse, Miss. Batgirl”

“Hey, I never said my family was perfect; if you think Todd is a difficult brother at times, wait until you read my brother’s file…sh*t.”

“Something wrong?”

“Counter hacking, blah carelessness will do that to anyone, damnit me.”

“Are you or the clocktower compromised? I can come over there to assist?”

“No, he's good, but either his security was not at my level, or his systems weren’t interested in finding me in particular.”

“They stole anything noteworthy?”

“They…copied a lot of our case files; they have nothing incriminating on us but that concerning.”

“He is looking for someone.”

“Bingo, I gotta go for now, Robin; I need to focus on who and beef up my security doesn’t slack up again. Whatever you do, don’t underestimate him.”

“I learned that a while ago; I can still feel the headache.”

The former batgirl disconnected, leaving Tim to continue playing watch out. You know it's a slow day in Gotham when he hasn’t even found something worthy to bust outside the occasional drug dealer tonight.

He volunteered for this nonsense, so he might try to enjoy it.

He pulled up his binoculars, not that he was expecting much. So far, only the guy’s older sister, Samatha, and her bodyguard, Markus, are visible in the house. The former seemed to be kept in the dark from what the bugs he placed earlier today, but the latter was clearly holding some knowledge.

Wait,

That picture of the baby Samatha has been wanting to adopt, of all the babies in Gotham.

That Stephanie’s daughter, he sure of it. He supported her when she was going through the pregnancy and ultimately when putting the kid up for adoption.

“Crapbaskets.”

---

Cassandra wipes her bleeding fists clean with rags before covering them with new wraps around her hands. Rows of broken robots with batlike ears covered the floor, either wholly dead or short-circuiting as the last flickers of artificial life faded from their eyes.

“Again.”

The massive computer screen before she lit up with life in response.

“Black Bat has already completed the maximum level of the training protocol-”

“Again”

“Beginning Training Protocol: Batman.”

More mechanical lambs to the slaughter came down from the roof, taking all sorts of fighting styles, miming one family member. Of course, it couldn’t perfectly mimic everything; they lack true AI and most of the gadgets they all wield, but they're one advantage that held compared to a human training partner.

She didn’t need to hold back, making it a productive way to let out aggression.

She got in her position, and she allowed them to surround her. They had not realized this fight was over before it began. The first bot tried to tackle her from behind, only to meet the back of her fist to shatter its jawline. The second one tried to capitalize on this by swinging its right leg to gut-check her, only for her to block it with her knee before delivering a deserving roundhouse kick to its midsection.

Two more of her opponent swung their fists at her, which she caught before pulling them together and smashing their skulls before dropping them. She knew her fight was far from over as she saw more robots fill the room, even though machines with this limited intelligence lacked fear.

She likes to pretend they can as she goes full out.

It was over far before she had preferred it to, the bodies around even further trashed than the previous batch. The aggression in her was not yet settled in her soul; it was craving a fight that she could not figure out, much less provide it.

“Again-”

“Woah there, Cass, slow it down. Everyone needs a break.”

“Dick?”

“Hope we weren’t interrupting anything.”

Before she could ask what he wasn’t from, “we?” much less notice the child in his arms; said child zips at ridiculous speeds that Flash would give an impressed look into her arms as she got stuck in a hug.

“Aunty Cass!” the raven-haired girl looked up at her with glowing emerald eyes.

Cassandra could only smile back; not every day, their favorite superpowered niece visits one. Sure, Mar’i was her only niece (that she was aware of anyway), but the thought still counted as far as she was concerned. She happily returned the hug with the girl; she had been so much better since..her mother’s passing.

“You toughen up, little firefly.”

“Yeah! Dad got me started on martial arts and everything; I’m a yellow belt now!”

“Oh, you’re going to surpass him at this rate. You’re going to beat your dad in no time.”

Said father gave an exaggerated look of offense as his daughter nodded rapidly with happiness, clearly not actually hurt by the comment. Still, a slight dread passed her as his smile shrunk slightly. Most people wouldn’t notice, but to her, it was clear he wanted to talk, a severe talk. It wasn’t too long ago when she was dealing with Bruce.

Her relationship with her eldest brother was initially the most mixed out of her brothers. She and Tim became close friends relatively quickly, even if her assassin background initially turned him off. Duke was even quicker despite having a standard background of Bruce’s children. In contrast, Cassandra’s first engagement with Jason was a fight, and he heard what he had done; she admits she held him in poor regard. Damian wasn’t much better, but he was more relatable. Their backgrounds shared many similarities, even if he was raised as a prince while she was a weapon. They were both tools for one deranged family that had lived far too long. She does not know if Ra’s Al Ghul was ever a hero; maybe he was by his world’s standards, but centuries have passed, and now all that is left is a monster.

Grayson was odd; he approached her with greater ease than any of the people before her yet kept her at a distance. He liked her most of the time but did not trust her, a belief that was proven right and wrong at different times. It made her want to prove herself to him, even more so than Bruce at times. Why? She was unsure, and maybe it was because she liked the challenge because getting his approval meant she was genuinely atoning for her sins. Perhaps she wanted the level of love and affection she saw him give Tim.

She is glad she finally managed to achieve it since the love and attention they have built together is something she wouldn’t give up on in her life. Their bond was unique, as was the rest of his bonds with his siblings, but all were equally valid, even during the occasional rough patches. He was someone you knew you could open up to and admit your fears to; he was someone you could rely on, and most importantly, you knew he cared. There is a reason he is the most connected hero in the superhero community, whether he was aware of it or not.

It also made her desire for his approval even more; she had heard Nightwing was Batman’s greatest success more than once. She admits she was jealous of that for a time, but more importantly, she wanted to do something similar. To be someone seen like he was admittedly in her unique fashion. Even Bruce, for all his paranoia, trusted Grayson second only to Alfred. So, knowing he wanted to talk well…she already felt the shame from her father; she didn’t want more of it. She might be a glutton for punishment, but only for the physical kind.

“Alright, Mar’i, how about you head upstairs? Daddy and Auntie are going to have a talk for abit”

“But dad-”

“Unless you don’t want Alfred’s grilled cheese sandwiches.”

The girl practically teleported out of Cassandra’s arm, with the only evidence of her moving being the door nearly ripped off the hinges.

“She is growing more powerful.”

“That's what Tamaranean DNA will do to ya.”

“And how is John?”

“Barbs is picking him up, but we aren’t talking about my amazing kids. We are talking about you, little sis. What is the issue?”

“...Batman”

“Of course it is B. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Not worth it.”"Have you tried beating the crap out of him?"

"Don't want to hit the nuclear option yet."

“You are protective of him.”

“Yes”

“You…afraid that despite willing to die before ever killing again. For him, you would break that no-kill rule. Even if it meant Bruce would, in your eyes, disown you, hunt you down, and perhaps worse of all, see you as his failure.”

“...yes”

“I understand that feeling.”

“You do?”

“If someone killed Babs or you guys, I…I would definitely very least consider ending their life. I probably wouldn’t because I know that is not what most of you want. If my kids were endangered now, then no hesitation, maybe even no regret.”

“But Bruce-”

“I know you look up to him above everyone else, Cass, but Bruce’s rule against killing is special. Bruce believes if he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Honestly, I think it holds water with how obsessive he can be.”

“But we don’t kill either.”

“Yes, because morally, I believe killing is wrong, as does most of the family, as we don’t seek to kill, but it is also a matter of being lawful. We cannot be judge, jury, and executor, especially since we are often personal with our villains. Joker has done multiple unforgivable things right in front of Bruce’s eyes; hell, Joker forced him to watch people die more than once. Do you think he would ever been able to give Joker a “fair” trial? He wants to redeem all his villians, but that doesn’t mean he can forgive them. If the clown somehow turned straight, I think Bruce would still hate him.”

“Why do I feel this confusion now?”

“You’re growing up, Cass, and now that with this boy back in your life. You see multiple paths and viewpoints from just ours. It is all part of the process of living. I still stand by my no-kill rule as Nightwing, but I’m also a Detective of Bludhaven. I’ve been in my fair share of firefights, and while I've been lucky enough, I never killed someone, but I came close from both ends of the gun. I understand why some believe killing might be needed. Most don’t have even a tenth of our training; they cannot afford to be merciful in some situations.”

“What should I do? Training does nothing, and only more conflicts will come.”

“Strike out some independence, maybe?”

“Independence?”

“It did wonders for me. I was fired as Robin, and because of that, I grew into my own identity, Nightwing. You had already begun growing into you’re own when you passed down Batgirl to become Black Bat, and now you gotta step it up even further. Besides the occasional Hong Kong trip, you still limit yourself to Gotham. Are you still trying to be under Bruce’s shadow?”

He pauses, trying to find the right words before continuing.

“Look, being Robin or Batgirl is a great, powerful legacy with history, good and bad, behind them, but ultimately they are training wheels even if Babs nor I plan them to be. Hell, Robin was something I thought of spur of the moment, and Barbara didn’t even know Batgirl was taken once before by Bette Kane’s Bat-girl.”

“Is she a cousin as well?”

“Yep, but I’m getting off-topic; understandably, you want Bruce’s support, but that support comes with restrictions and rules you may no longer agree with. This benching I overheard might do you some good, even if it is not how Bruce intends it to be. Go out there; you will stumble and likely fall, but grow and stand. Perhaps you will find new reasons to stand by your beliefs or change them with new beliefs altogether. You don’t need to do it alone either.”

“Maybe…make my team? Like you?”

“Or even just join one; kinda too old for Teen Titans, but I got the Titans, and I can put in a good word to put you in the reserves. Barbara has her Birds of Prey who already adore you; I’m sure Tim doesn’t mind making an exception with Young Justice. Even Jason has his Outlaws, though I doubt they’re your style.”

“Pointers?”

“Start with people that you can trust. Founding members should not be members of our family besides yourself. It is not required, but having at least one meta or alien friend can come in a clutch, and lastly, make sure you make your eventual new name and suit kickass.”

“I don’t know…that discowing suit was outdated when it was made.”

“It was a phase, Cass.”

The girl couldn’t help but chuckle before hugging her shorter older brother. Once again, he found a way to make it seem like everything would be alright. He didn’t sugarcoat the difficulty of what was to come, but at the very least, it all seemed possible.

“Just one more thing”

“Ask away Columbo; I’m actually in the mood for grilled cheese myself right about now.”

“Were there any others like Bette? I mean, not as well-known heroes like us?”

“A few to be honest with you, Cass, I’m not even Bruce's first partner.”

“You not?”

“I was his first sidekick, but Thomas, Bruce’s older brother, was his first partner; they were equals in the fight against crime, but Thomas died early in their career at a time before the Batman mythos really got started. When people weren’t even sure a costumed vigilante was running around, much less the idea there was more than one.”

“I’ve seen his portraits and pictures around, but what happened? What caused his death.”

“No clue; I can’t even go to Alfred about it since he shut any discussion about it.”

“Then there is a good reason for it.”

“I agree, which worries me.”

“Did he have a name to his persona?”

“Just one, to my knowledge: Owlman.”

---
If you would like to say that the last few days have improved since removing Masters from this earth, you would be lying.

The weather was not helping.

It was storming out, bad even by Gotham’s standards.

It makes you wonder if Weather Wizard decided to have a sh*t fit or something and decided he went on this city? You wouldn’t even blame the guy. It seems incredibly unfair to have your heroic nemesis being the guy who can outright light itself if he feels like it.

Granted, the moment you had to deal with someone of that caliber, you would’ve just tried at a different city after the second or third attempt. I guess that's just how the cookie crumbles; if there is one consistent fact, it is that the heroes and villains of this world require a level of obscure stubbornness for better or worse—usually both.

And where were you in all of this?

The best place anyone should be in this type of weather is

An abandoned theater, the theater you and she used to go before you went your separate ways.

“You can come out now,” you said, seemingly at nothing but as lighting flashed and briefly lit up the room. Her beautiful athletic form apparently appeared from nowhere.

“Cassandra”

“Tools”

“What would you like to know?”

“What have you done?”

What were your sins?

That is what she was asking, and you would not deny her.

“When I lost you, when I nearly lost myself and Markus, something filled with wrath. Was it my anger from losing you to realizing how vulnerable I was, or perhaps the paranoia of realizing how big the world was? I do not know. I lost family after a family member, and then I finally found how easy it was not to care.”

“Funny thing is…I didn’t even realize how good I had it till I lost it. I trained my body and expanded my mind. Something that didn’t go unfound by other parties. I was practically forced to join the military and later A.R.G.U.S thanks to a prick of a general and, most of all, one Amanda Waller.”

You could see the tiniest shift of her body moment. You don’t blame her.

“I could tell you what good I have done with the organization, the terrorists I help take down directly or indirectly, metahuman trafficking I’ve taken down, multi-national threats that my knowledge shut down for good. How easy it would be to tell you how I’ve grown…but I will never deceive you. I have murdered more than a few people who are no longer a threat to myself or others because I deemed them too much of a risk.”

Why?

Why is she the one person you must always do right by?

Perhaps it was nice to confess for once, or maybe you were just tired of lies.

“Majority of my work has been to develop devices, much for good of humanity but also plenty of other less justified devices. I developed weapons of war and designed metahuman collars meant to contain criminals, yet I knew said technology could be abused. I thought I was so smart that I would have time to do something before that could happen, some sort of failsafe, but I was a fool; there were more than a few geniuses who did my work and improved it. I will live knowing my technology helped enslave my kind.”

You almost wanted to laugh.

“I have more than dabble in genetics; I have cloned beings that I knew would be made to be used by others, like how you and I have been forced to do. Not just people but aliens, too; I have clone kryptonian assassins; your family met two of them already. I tried to be their father, and perhaps I have done the best job I could’ve done, but in the end. What I did was no different from David Cain. It is not even my kids anymore; I adopted two children because the alternative is leaving them to the fate of my boss, and I will have to prepare them to serve the government soon enough.”

You turn away from her.

“It sucks, you know, I cared for my kids. Many of my peers would see them as mere property, but they are my own. I do not regret bringing them into my life. By the time I realized that, however, it was already too late, and now I would have to live knowing what I had done..and what I will do.”

Before you could turn around to at least have the decency to look her in the eye as your confession, you were caught in a deep embrace.

“I have failed myself and others too.”

Her mouth did not move, but her mind spoke for her as you two mentally communicated.

What?

“I have allowed my selfishness to take control of my own decision for once. I once almost denied a woman her justice for my consciousness. I nearly killed people more than once because of my emotions or my over-confidence. I willingly killed my mother, Shiva.”

“Shiva is alive.”

“I left her on the hook above a Lazarus pit.”

“Checks out.”

“It was not of my choice or will, but I even joined and led the League of Assassins.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“David and Deathstroke”

Great, now the Terminator had to be on the kill list; it would not be fun trying to find a way to kill him.

“And even when I was freed, I tried to end my dad's life in vengeance. I told myself it was for the sake of others and the greater good. I told myself it was to prevent him from hurting anyone else, but…no, it was because I was tired and angry. Thanks to him, all my efforts to prove myself and improve my life were reduced to almost zero.”

“Did you go through it?”

“I…do not know, he was slipping off a building. I let him dangle for his life; My mind was fighting itself whenever to save or end him. I ultimately tried saving him, but it was too late, and he lost his gripe. Had Batman and Robin not been there? He would've been dead by my hand.”

“It seems we are both sinners, Cass.”

“We are.”

“Are you…disappointed? The path I've taken?”

“I am regretful; you were kind to me, and by doing so. You have engulfed my world. Assassins, Metahuman experiments, My family, Waller-”

“I would do it again. Maybe I am a young fool, but it is the truth.”

They both held each other in one another's arms. The sound of harsh rain and thunder is the only source of sound.

“So what now?”

“I'm also Black Bat.”

“Kinda guess that; I recognized your stance during that fight with Penguin.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Plausible deniability.”

“Oh…sorry.”

“It's fine; anything else?”

“I wanna create a team of my own. I need people, starting with those who I can trust.”

“Glad to be a prime choice, but is that the only reason you decided to visit me in this rundown place.”

She pushed onto one of the few still working theater seats; whatever control you had over the situation. was promptly lost. It was only further reinforced as she got on top of you.

“I never got my reward for beating you back at my home.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

Without warning, she kissed you, her warm, welcoming lips pressed against yours as you looked in her love and slightly hungry eyes. You could feel her hands with her gentle touch feeling up your body.

“Guess this means we official? Taking me like this?”

“Don’t be stupid; you were always mine.”

---
The storm had been raging in Gotham for a few days since she and Tools agreed to become a team. It didn’t dampen her mood; however, little could, to be honest. For once, it seemed that things were finally turning around, and Cassandra had no plans of changing that. Instead, she was spending time in one of the many buildings owned by Harrison Industries, watching her other half at work.

She had missed watching her partner using his mechanical skills. She couldn’t always follow how he did things due to not being quite the tech wizard he was, but it kept her attention. Watching him do what he did best was fascinating. She could see the hundreds of tiny thoughts and motions throughout his body as they worked through the process.

It was adorable watching Tools give that prideful smirk when something came together. It was also hilarious when they showed that twitch of annoyance when things on the project didn’t go as planned.

It has been ages since she watched him work again, and she is happy that fascination has not changed. She heard him curse under his breath more than once, but she could tell he was enjoying the challenge. It was not every day he got to design a hero costume, much less two.

“Done.”

Tools give her an assuring smile.

“More or less, they lack symbols cause we lack our own yet, but it will come with time. Consider these the prototype of the Beyond series line.”

Her suit was a pitch color with a full face mask, which looked like it conformed to the contours of her facial features. The eyes of the mask were crimson-red, and the fabric was soft. She would have never assumed it was metal if she hadn’t known it herself.

Tools were more of a gray color, and one would definitely have an easier time deducing its metallic nature, though it was still quite a sleek design. Unlike her mask, even this one had no visible mouth.

“Impressive.”

“Give me more time, and I could go full Iron Man, but that's not the style you’re looking for, right?”

“Still a bat.”

“Thought so, still I couldn’t help myself but give my twist; the suits can be adjusted to provide some low-level human strength. You’re not trading blows with Zod, but you can give the likes of Bane a fight. More for me and less for you, Miss. “I can dodge firearms point blank.” but they are durable enough to be bulletproof…to an extent, I would avoid heavy rifles and snipers. They also come with retractable wings and a propulsion system-”

Before her poor partner passes out from rambling and forgetting to breathe, she kisses them on the forehead to shut them up and take in oxygen again.

“It's perfect.”

Tools give her a satisfied smile before sitting back.

“Suits are done, now what?”

“Names are next; names are important, according to my brother.”

“Very well…call me Kingslayer.”

“Kingslayer?”

“We are trying to stop crime, right? The best way is to stop those on the top while preventing a power vacuum. I assume we are going to be pretty underground, right? So, in a way, we are rising against the kings of crime…also it sounds cool without being too edgy.”

She could tell there was more than just that, but no need to dig into it now. He’ll open up when he is ready.

“And your alias?”

That is a good question. It was not like she could use any of her monikers, no matter how brief or old. Yet, she was still wanted to honor her family, even if they were unaware of who she was.

Black Bat has fallen.

But she was still an ally of the night. She was still a force for justice.

“Knightfall”

Thunder crackled with the agreement, and the look on her partner’s face showed they also approved.

“Now, one final thing...who are we?”

That is a good question.

The league was the organization made up of the world's greatest superheroes. Teen Titans were young heroes who wanted to distinguish themselves; Young Justice fulfilled a similar if a bit more laidback verison. Titans were grown ex-Teen Titans, Birds of Prey were a group of primary female heroes that did special missions worldwide, almost as some sort of Special Ops.

Many members were former members of another group or active members of multiple groups, and these were just some big-name groups. Many others existed, such as Doom Patrol and Justice Society, or branches of another group, such as Justice League Dark. This system was important, it was needed, and it was flawed.

Someone needs to see the picture from the outside: those who did not care for the approval from others, the public, politicians, or even other heroes, and did what was right even if there had to be more aggressive means. They would strike hard and do what needed to be done, even if it meant going unsung or disliked. They would hunt down those who tried to hide underneath or above the law to avoid justice.

“We are-”

A window burst behind her, rain and wind blew in around her as lightning came down on Gotham. Months later, Tools would tell her how they could’ve sworn he briefly saw the shadow of a bat behind her.

“Outsiders”

Chapter 6: Broken Youth

Chapter Text

One doesn’t tend to realize how dangerous heights are until they’re staring at them. You have to agree as you stare at imminent death down below. You quickly twist your truly sad*stic, newly-made girlfriend with an unamused impression.

“You can’t be serious?” You asked weakly.

You have done some dumb stuff before.

You have done some rather heinous acts before.

However, your self-preservation was still very much intact, so when the love of your life wanted to teach you how to be a vigilante, You would start with something simple: beat some heads, maybe do detective work. Hell, you weren’t even against leaping across buildings.

Jumping from Skyscrapers was missing from the list of sensible options.

If you two were using your power suits, this would be nothing, but no, Cassandra wanted to keep things old school for training purposes. Why? Well, that is the question of the ages. She gave a cute, knowing smile, speaking of the girl.

She was eying you, wearing an outdated bat suit she “borrowed,” and enjoying the view in front of you/ You had it modified since, unlike Bruce, you weren’t built like a brick wall. Thankfully this outfit likely won’t be missed by Bruce anytime soon unless things go to sh*t.

This likely means he will need more time to pay attention to you.

You keep looking back and forth between your partner and the ledge, silently trying to convince her that this isn’t the best option.

“I believe in you,” She responded way too happily to be completely genuine.

She knew she had you wrapped around her finger, which was almost as unfair as entirely accurate. It should be illegal to be that level of smug with someone.

Then again, considering the list of crimes between you, it would be the last legal issue the law system would have with you both.

“Fine, fine, you win. Better get me some nice flowers at the funeral,” You said before stepping above the ledge.

Below held congested traffic and masses of people moving around like cracked-up bees. Forget New York; this is the place that never sleeps. You take a deep breath before hopping over, and you become weightless. It was a struggle to force the eyes open.

You could almost feel a brief grim acceptance pass through your head as you dive directly towards the ground. Thankfully, your survival instinct kicked aside your fears, and you finally pulled up, your cape flaring up, and you began to glide into the night.

It was freaking awesome.

It's still absolutely terrifying. Don’t get it twisted, but the fact didn’t change that you were coasting the wind. This was the closest someone like you could ever fly with as little assistance as possible.

“Woohoo!” You couldn’t help but yell out in excitement and anxiety as you gradually began to descend.

Maybe you’re finally getting why many heroes enjoy this rooftop hopping.

“Enjoying yourself?” Your partner asked you mentally.

“This is bloody awful and fantastic.”

“Good, might want to brace yourself.”

“Brace me for what?” You asked before the glass window of an office building you ignored as you were busy sightseeing. You reveal the ever-pleasant experience of breaking through a glass window. If you roll over on your side and roll into an unfortunate cubicle,

You tried to play it off as you got back up, and your second half swooned in, a smug smile most likely on her face, hidden only by the black fabric and lack of light. You could only give her a very deadpan expression.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You were NOT prepared for following months coming.
---
You were right.

Make no mistake: You hired some of the best to train underneath before taking lessons from Cassandra and Shiva. Hell, you even took some lessons from the Terminator himself, Deathstroke. However, becoming a vigilante meant a lot more than just punching good.

It also meant stuff ranging from:

You must always have the proper equipment and ensure you grab the right one at the right moment…including in mid-air.

Did you forget to mention your teacher (read: Slave Driver) would try to knock you out?

No person should have this much of an imminent relationship with the ground, much less that person having to be you. The worst part was she was still the more excellent option than her mother.

See, the difference was Cass ACTS like she wants to kill you.

Shiva DOES want to kill you.

Sure, she didn’t go for kill shots every single time, but that was only to keep you guessing and on your toes. Every lesson came with a randomized chance of her trying to kill or permanently cripple you. There was no planned schedule either; any time you were alone could be when she re-enters your life; even when you recently sent her on a mission, you have no idea when or how she will return.

The results don’t lie. Thanks to stubbornness and honest-to-god luck, progress was made, and your body was turned into a better weapon than ever before, but that alone is still not enough.

Undeniably, you have been growing stronger, but it seems no matter how much you grow. The odds in front of you have significantly intensified. Initially, you just had to worry about not being strong enough to take out David Cain and not be killed in your line of work, either by one of your experiments or ambitious co-workers.

On top of that, you have one of the world’s greatest assassins after you. Eventually, the Bats are not double looking into you, and with your girls rampaging through Wayne Manor, the Justice League may very well end up at your front door.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though

Outsiders were finally becoming more than just Knightfall and Kingslayer. You weren’t the next Titans, much less League level, but you were making a stir in the hero community. A group willing to do what was right regardless of the red tape that needed to be crossed. It is funny how the group most like Batman lacked the caped crusader himself.

Then again, considering the multiverse.

Blah, focus, that can wait. If you even want to deal with it, you have multiple projects to complete before you mess up the multiverse. The time machine you’re making as a side project will likely cause trouble.

“Pay attention, Dr. Harrison.” A pair of fingers snapped in front of you.

“I knew I had to give updates to Waller, but I thought it would be a bit more casual,” You snarked at the black woman.

“That was before you decided to play the hero. Do you have some death wish?”

“Not particularly.”

“Our organization has survived without issue for years, nay decades, by being in the dark, and here you are running amok everywhere. Considering how much you wanted your job back, I thought you would keep your head down.”

“Hornet nest is kicking Waller; only a matter of time before we have to deal with the bugs itself, and all we can do is prepare. You already knew that, however?”

“And why?” Waller asked, her eyes zooming in.

“Cause you are the only one here, Waller. This one is off the books. Which means you see an opportunity in what I’m doing.”

“I must say, you got a decent roster growing for your organization: Katana, Black Alice, Black Lightning, Metamorph, and…Thrillkiller?”

“Divine wanted in on the fun, and Galatea is more than happy to take care of some of her sister's targets for her.”

“Your daughter is a sad*st.”

“Most tend to be when they’re raised to be assassins.”

“Hmph, well enough of beating around the bullsh*t. I’m willing to pass the word to give your little hero group past most red lines without issues through the country and even parts of the world, and all you have to do is take care of the occasional villain.”

“No, I can't do it, not that I am really against it, but Knightfall barely accepts my willingness to kill, and I have been trying not to press but considering it a last resort. Not to mention we got less paragons like Black Lighting who would lose his sh*t and either sabotage us at worse and get the rest of the hero community.”

Cassandra found Outsiders; you will not be the cause of its downfall.

That her legacy and that alone makes it worth preserving by the books.

“I’m not asking for your team; I’m asking you to finish them off.”

“I see…have the Outsider take down someone that legitimately deserves it, everyone gets to satisfy their moral compass, and when the authority comes, that is where I come in…I’m your executioner.” You trailed off, waiting for a confirmation.

“Glad some intelligence is still knocking in your skull. I need you to put the occasional villain in the dirt.”

“Don’t we have a literal suicide squad for that nonsense?”

“I might oversee them, but I lack complete authority over them, I still have to deal with bureaucratic garbage, and…they’re not exactly reliable.”

“Might because of the bomb collars; I would be a dick to you guys too in any way possible too.”

“Tsk, you need to stay updated; we put bombs directly in their heads now. Either way, there are as many eyes on me as on the squad when I send them out. You? Not so much, especially when playing dress up.”

“Your words wound me, but I am surprisingly growing a tentative alliance with you as of late. I have no desire to be your attack dog.”

“I’m not asking you to go hit personal enemies of mine or political threats. I can always spin the right words to deal with the rest of A.R.G.U.S. why someone like Lex Luthor or Maxwell Lord needs to go. How successful their efforts would be is another story, but that is the truth. I need you to take out the worst of the worst trash beings on God’s green earth where our men aren’t enough, and heroes are too much of a bunch of puss*es to finish the job.”

Oh, she cursed; she is serious, after all.

“I can’t do it as Kingslayer.”

“You can dress up a goddamn clown while you’re executing them for all I care; it's just a matter of if you can get it done.”

“If that is the case, you know my answer.”

She stared at you before sighing, it was clear she wanted a verbal one, but you’re not quite at that level of not being a jackass with her. “Whatever…now what this rumor I hear about Lady Shiva in Gotham? “

“I hired her to train me; what she does beyond that is beyond me.”

“So you do have a death wish.”

“No, that would be paying her to get blood from Deathstroke by any means, preferably for my sake, though generally peaceful ones/.”

Now, she is fully bug-eyed for the first time in her career. “You’re a dead man walking, Doctor. If this, you’re walking away from trying to attempt on Deathstroke’s life.

“I said I wanted his blood, Waller; never said it had anything to do with killing him.”

“What is your goal?”

“Insurance, nothing more, nothing less.”
---
Cassandra had never wanted to strangle her family more so than before, a shame too, because Duke was one of her favorites.

Someone (read: Tim or Barbara) caught wind of her chat logs about her coming to one of Tools’ houses under the disguise of the mission. It was all agreed between the manor and the semi-failed hack. It was too dangerous for Cassandra to have a simple dinner alone.

Of course, they had to tell her this personally at the last minute.

At the very least, Signal had the decency to look sympathetic, to be frank, according to him. He wasn’t originally supposed to be on this mission. That was supposed to be Tim, but the third boy wonder had been sent on a critical mission, investing further in what might be Cadmus faculty somewhere in Washington, D.C.

And then there was their extra plus +1, who joined at the extra last minute.

Her blonde best friend wraps her arm around her waist. “Turn that frown upside down, sister; we are not going to cramp your style too much, right Damian?” She turns to the fuming miniature version of Bruce, still unhappy that his cover story was that Cass and Duke were “babysitting him. "

“Look, are we sure there aren't better ways to approach this? He already probably knows something up?” Duke chimed in.

“Oh, most certainly, but the reason doesn’t matter as long as he lets us in and will let us in. Cass here has her supervillain boyfriend broken in and house trained quite well.”

“He is not a supervillain.”

“You’re right, he's even worse…he works for the government.”

“Please stop”

“Maybe he is also a lawyer; it would take Bruce off even more.” Steph continued to tease in her best friend’s ears. At the same time, she is far from the most vicious of the family. Stephanie was just as bad as most of the family in terms of holding a vendetta.

Cass prayed that her Steph didn’t do something too out of pocket.

They eventually stopped at their location. It was nothing exceptional, which made it stand out even more. It was an upper-middle-class house with a decent yard. It was clear that Tools didn’t want to stick out.

“I’ll knock,” she finally spoke verbally, silently glancing at her “crew” as a warning to behave themselves before returning her attention to the door. A few hits across the door, and nothing but the silence was met. It almost gave the impression that the place was abandoned.

“He is probably coming up from his evil lab.’

“Steph, my boyfriend is not a supervillain.”

“Cloning, biological experimenting, beating up children-”

“You all tried to beat him into submission, and you, in your admission, tried to hit him between the legs.”

“How was I supposed to know you had plans to use what between them?” she bantered, causing Duke and even Damian to cringe sympathetically. They’re not afraid to fight dirty, but that pain was universal. “Can we not? We're about to eat, and I do not need that image,” Duke groaned.

The door finally cracked open before either girl could respond as a child peeked out her head. She had raggy, long white-blond hair that was only outmatched in paleness by her pale skin; despite the warm weather, her ragged breath was visible as if it was the dead of winter.

“C-can we help you?”

The group of mainly young adults instinctively changed their original attitudes: you didn’t need to be a crime fighter in one of the most dangerous cities of the world to see signs of abuse and neglect. Regaining her composure, Stephanie tried to assert control of the situation.

“Hey, we are friends of yours…”

She glances at Cass, hoping the latter would be able to jump in and finish their sentence. The raven-haired girl could only give a slight shrug of her confusion. Tools had never mentioned anything about working young children, much less about them living in one of his houses.

“Say what's your name?”

“Maureen, why are you here?”

“Hey, that's a nice name; we’re just friends with your…brother.”

The door slammed in her face.

“Well, congratulations, Brown. You outdid yourself in handling the situation.” Damian couldn’t he but snark at the blonde.”

“I didn’t see you do much either, pintsize.”

She grabs the handle because there is no universe where Steph leaves an abused kid in such a situation without some fight, and whatever she can’t do, Spoiler can. Unfortunately for her, the universe has a hard-on for bullying people like that. As her hand quickly got covered in ice, she barely had enough time to remove it before it further solidified and spread across the door.

“I think this is the universe trying to tell us something, such as time to turn around. Perhaps we should call this Tools guy to explain the situation and unfreeze the door,” Duke offered, only to get the batglare from his younger brother.

“Don’t be such a coward, Thomas; letting that fool know might put the girl at risk. We are going in now.”

“Can we at least go back to get our costume? We didn’t even bring a grappler.”

“YOU didn’t bring a grappler, brother.”

The fourth Robin pulled out his travel device before shooting at the window and zipping up, leaving his elders behind. The opening reveals nothing but your average bedroom, nothing noteworthy or personalized, not too unsurprisingly on that front. Damian almost forgets how many places he owns, much less what the property belongs to the family, much less having the time to add flair.

Nevertheless, while prideful in his skills. He’ll never hear the end of it from his siblings for not letting them inside, much less his father complaining that he shouldn’t be going in these situations alone and without backup if possible, so it was time to allow the has-beens inside.

At least, that was his intention before he sensed something was off. Years of training, experience, and near-death experience screamed at him to roll for cover and not a moment too as turrets revealed themselves out of the wall before flaring up with gunfire and eradicating the spot he once stood.

Damian must thank his sister’s supposed love interest after kicking his ass. This just went from easy to fun.
---
Experimenting on a six-year-old in the basem*nt probably would come off very wrong without context. Even with context, you should have Child Protection Service gunning for your ass, but yet here you are.

Placing down your clipboard, you turned to face the child, holding her eyes closed.

“Let's try this again, Ace.”

“I don’t want to.”

Neither do you, but she needs to control her powers, or it will cause issues for everyone. Not only will she not have any chance of truly experiencing the outside world without risk to herself or others, but A.R.G.U.S. will no doubt take her back.

“I know; I swear it will be the last one for the day.”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

You gently touch her shoulder, reassuring her that she can trust you. You watched as her youthful eyes began opening up to you. “Focus,” You asked of her with kindness, to not let her powers overtake her. “I-I can’t,” She whispered, her eyes gradually turning yellow with moving red rings appearing after several minutes.

“It okay…It's okay…” You pat her head gently as the world changes around your surroundings. Snakes wrapped around you, your hands looked and felt like they were melting, and you could feel your worst nightmares starting to overtake the corners of your eyes.

It was hell.

“Break contact,” you utter softly, which thankfully she heard as she closed her eyes, and like magic, the world around you became sane again. Training the mind is as essential as the body, as you have proven to yourself. You are willing to do some dumb stuff to improve yourself, willingly letting yourself experience mental attacks being the latest in line of questionable decisions.

“Sorry”

“Don’t be, you did just fine. I am proud of you.”

You were not the warmest individual, indeed no life of the party, but being cold doesn’t mean you were cruel. Before, The child needed some honest positive reinforcement, and for better or worse, you were the sole provider of said enforcement. You knew you would falter at one point or another, but you must try.

That is all one can do at times.

“Are you scared of me?” she tilts her head at you despite all her trauma. Her age was showing, but she still doesn’t truly realize how much suffering she went through. “Your powers are terrifying me, yes,” you replied honestly; lying to a telepath is pointless, at least without enough training. “But are you scared of me?” she repeated.

“No”

“Why”

“Because at the end of the day, the only real victim here is you,” You answered; it was true. Ace shouldn’t be here; she should be in a program where people are around to help and not control her.

But that wasn’t reality; she didn’t have anyone but yourself and Waller to a limited extent. She would be used, controlled, and eventually disregarded. Sooner than later, her powers grew faster than her body, particularly the brain.

She will die in her teens at her current rate.

That is a future that is entirely unacceptable in your eyes. You’ll figure out something you always have before; it would be foolish to change that now. You made your choices a long time ago on how your end is likely going to be, but you’ll be damned if you let this child’s fate be cemented so casually.

“Dr. Harrison…are you my new parent?”

You forgot how many questions kids give, especially those out of the left field.

“Why do you ask?”

“The fat lady said you were my new parent.”

Wheezes

Fat lady

You don’t have favorites, but your youngest would have shot up a few ranks from that response if you did.

“I am inexperienced in such a position, but if you wish to view me as one. I would try to be the best I can be.”

“You like to speak in big words.”

“Yeah, we adults like to do that often. You’ll do the same when you’re an adult, too. Now offer your arms.”

She rolled up her sleeves as you attached bracelets to each of her wrists; you based it on the torture device that was in the form of a headband. Granted, it still dampened her powers admittedly, but it didn’t force her into being a slave to you or any of her elders. It also didn’t remove her powers altogether; doing so would be foolish in an emergency.

You’re beginning to ask yourself if it was less you had a moral standing which was debatable at best, and instead, you maintained a level of common sense and human decency. No one Camdus thought, “Hey, maybe making the sentient weapon or assassin I station over’s life hell might not be the grandest of plans.”

Wow, you sound particularly sassy today.

“They’re pretty colors.”

“Black does make a lot of things look good.”

“Really?”

“Yes, like your hair; it is very pretty.”

She gave a soft squeal of happiness. Dear god, will you have to do children's hair again? At the very least, you're praying Ace can stay in her seat, unlike her sisters. You learn the difficulty of trying to cut someone's hair while they and the seat are floating while, at the same time, each strain of hair is stronger than steel.

You help the little girl out of her seat before holding her in your arms just in time as a loud thud and muffled gunfire are heard. “What was that?” Your youngest whispered

“Guests”

A large, nicely sized piece of ice pierced through the ceiling.

“The unwanted kind too”
---
“How is it going over there, Damian,” a voice over the phone asked.

“Things could be a bit more ideal, Thomas.”

“YOU WON’T TAKE US AWAY!” The young metahuman screamed as she sent another furious wave of ice and snow across the house as the youngest Wayne dodged. He must admit, he had better situations than this.

“She sounds mad.”

“She IS mad; thankfully, her aiming skills could be better,” The blood son of Batman snarked.

“We breaking through the back”

“Take your time, not like

However, this would hardly be the worst, especially when those blasted guns finally ran out of ammo. Now is the unfortunate time to peek his head out and be diplomatic like Grayson.

“Believe it or not, we are trying to help. Now, if you could stop trying to KILL me, we can talk,” He snared back, dodging just in time from being impaled by yet another flurry of ice spike before peaking out again.

“This is getting ridiculous; stand down or else.”

The house has been transformed into a demented winter wonderland, not exactly an ideal environment to fight in, especially in civilian uniform.

“Do you hear me? I said-”

A snowball smashed against his face; now she is just being petty, fine by him because he can be just as bad if she desires. Powers are hardly anything; you need skills to survive this world, and he is one of the best.

Hopping out of his hiding spot before briefly running across the wall, she goes for another shot at him, but he jumps off, performing a flip because he wants her to understand how out of her league she is before sliding across the icy ground. She maneuvers for another attempt on his life, but as expected, she is too slow.

He is right in front of her before twisting his leg to trip her; once she is on the ground, he fills the metahuman on her belly before pulling her arms behind her back. It was a bit extreme for someone her age, but Damian didn’t feel like being an ice sculpture; he already had Mister Freeze and other ice-assorted villains to attempt that.

“Care to calm down now? This is embarrassing for both of us.”

“Get off of me!”

“And have you continued your little temper tantrum? I don’t think so.”

Any further debate between the two came to a close at the clock of the gun, soon met with the feeling of cool metal pressed against his head.

“I highly insist you listen to her.”

“Nice to see you’re around, Dr. Harrison.”

“Damian? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Remember the dinner?”

“Ah sh*t, I forgot my B”

“Language,” his original opponent on the ground muttered.

“Apologies, Maureen,” The not-so-good doctor stated, this is getting frustrating. Is he being ignored? Damian Wayne does not get ignored. Risking it, the boy wondered, twisted his head, and slowly got up.

“The girls, do not lie to me.”

“Part of my work, as you can see here, they uh…adjusting.”

“Right…”

They hear the sound of cannon fire, screaming, and fireworks.

“Good to see the backyard security is still functioning,” Harrison tried to choke out a joke. As expected, it failed miserably.

“I think it best we go out to eat.”

“Agreed, come on, girls. We are having Italian. Go upstairs and get ready.” He put the child he was carrying on the ground before helping this Maureen girl as he motioned them to the next floor. What an oddity of a person, one moment a person a literal trigger finger away from killing him to talking about dinner.

“Doctor…were you going to kill me?”

The man stopped dead before staring at him.

“Yes”

Casual admittance, meaning few to little regret. Damian would know he held such feelings before, especially before his father, Grayson, and the others.

“Why didn’t you pull it sooner?”

“Typically, one does not kill the siblings of their beloved…unless you are royalty, maybe. Also, my daughters are plenty traumatized as it is. I do not think painting Maureen with your brain matter would help.”

Good-intentioned yet selfish reasons, had he been on top of someone less valuable to the man. It would be easy to say he would’ve put a hole through him without a single care.

“You are asking a lot of questions for someone who nearly died,” the man acknowledged before putting his gun down.

“I have been on the opposite end of a weapon more than once.”

“Then our childhoods might be closer than I thought.”

“Doubtful, but perhaps there are some parallels.”

“Hn…” Harrison grunted before walking towards the back of the house, motioning him to follow. “You are not going to say anything about almost shooting me?” Damian could personally care less, but typically, people try to apologize or deny a situation like this.

“You’re not dead; not like I can bribe you to keep your mouth shut. Do with this knowledge as you wish.”

“You remind me of Todd minus the mouth.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“Wasn’t a compliment?”

“I’ll take it as one now. I better the rest in before they worry anymore.”

The scientist opens the door only to be slugged in the face by a furious Cassandra, whose expression immediately changes upon realizing who she just knocked out. Damian watched bemused at the man on the floor.

He doesn’t believe in fate and has no time to care about God or gods, but he can take comfort in knowing karma certainly exists.
---
“Sorry,” Cassandra muttered as she got you another rag to press against your eye at the table.

“It's fine; most of you nearly hurt, so we call it even.”

“I doubt nearly killing us makes one punch calling it even,” The blond girl across the table snarked back. It was agreed to eat at Bamonte's, a restaurant that used to belong to the many mafias in Gotham, specifically the Maroni family, but between their Don’s death and city transfer from organized crime to costumed crime. The place is now in relative legal hands. Presumably, nothing is certain in this city.

“They were specialized rubber bullets. They wouldn’t have killed you...probably, and you did break into my house; seriously, who does that?”

“The girl…Maureen was…” She glanced at the pale-skinned girl who was busy scarfing down the plate of pasta in front of her.

“She has only been in my care for a few weeks.”

“She seen attached in a short amount of time.”

“Let's just say I have been the first to show her kindness in a while.”

Honestly, you were shocked at how quickly Maureen grew attached to you. Sure, she didn’t trust you at first and huddled into the nearest corner of her room, not even acknowledging you, but something clicked. Maybe some unseen force was at work; perhaps it was that realization you weren’t forced to do anything she didn’t want, but for someone codenamed Permafrost, she soon warmed up quickly.

“Well, you can understand the concern here, especially with your security systems.”

“She had her personalized kinetic force field.”

“What forcefield? ” Duke finally spoke up. Honestly, you almost forgot he was there. No, it's a good sign; you don’t want to underestimate anyone.

“A force field that protects her by absorbing kinetic energy is primarily for range attacks like projectiles, which is why Lil Wayne restrained her here.”

“Did you just call me little?”

“Apologies, I meant fun-sized,”

“Cain, I am burying him.”

“Stop, both of you,” Cassandra spoke with the quiet authority of a tired mom trying to break up her kids.

You both nodded, but between your sh*t-eating grin and his death glare at each other, it was pretty clear that things were far from over. You didn’t mind; you'd never had a chance to have or be the annoying sibling before.

“Yes, my queen, your will is my command.” You bow jokingly; Duke and Stephane chuckle while Cass merely rolls her eyes, but that hidden smile makes it clear how she feels despite her attempts to show otherwise.

“So Tools, what is your opinion on the Bat recently?” Steph interjected, not surprised she asked that. You might’ve been a little petty to go to the papers about getting your face kicked in by him.

Little did she know what she unleashed; this was your chance to go ham. Be the Lex Luthor to the Bat’s Superman. Sure, you don’t mean what you’re about to say, but it would be hilarious.

“He's a vigilante! A public menace!”

“I beg your pardon?”

You are about to continue to summon your inner J. Jonah Jameson when your girlfriend gives you the “Don’t” look. This is so unfair; this was your chance.

Curses foiled again!

“Sorry, joking aside. I think he is an important part of the city. He and other crime fighters of Gotham are certainly part of the reason this city is still” H standing.”

“But…”

“I don’t think he and the others are enough.”

Damian’s body stiffened. “You don’t think he is doing enough,” he practically growled. Considering how much Batman has done, you can’t blame him. “Or do you mean he is not going far enough

“No, it's just not enough, period. He is doing his best, sending baddies to Blackgate, Arkham, and all that jazz, but in an attempt to break Gotham’s crime-filled cycle. He has rather become a part of it overall. It is not even uncommon for goons to take true initiation. It is your first proper beatdown by a Bat.”

“What do you suppose?”

“Something needs to be changed; laws as they are aren’t enough, and the criminals…well, I think they need to be dealt with.”

“So murder.”

“Not necessarily; some certainly are better off dead; each time Professor Pyg is freed, a group of people is given fates worse than death. However, in contrast, when was the last time someone helped Killer Croc, who did not begin evil? The world turned against him, as it is done to many who consider them “freaks.” Perhaps he can be helped.”

“People have tried.”

“Some genuinely have but rather not right way, and others…it nothing but on the surface.”

“That still decides who lives and dies, though perhaps you have a point about needing a change.”

“It's just a thought; after all, are the courts or the laws any different? People decide if people live or die all the time; hell, we control how people live. It's not unwarranted either; we wouldn’t need a government if humans were angels. All I am saying is there needs to be something, or someone needs to make that extra effort to clean up this place truly.”

“Do you think you’re that person?”

“Now that's funny.”

Frankly, no, you didn’t. You would gather all your loved ones and escape this cesspool if it were up to you. The last thing you need to do is involve yourself with Gotham’s issues, but life doesn’t give you those choices. So, a slight deflection on that question is made.

You cross your legs. “I don’t claim to be right, but that is how I view it.” Damian nodded, giving no impression whenever he accepted your viewpoint. Frankly, you didn’t care, but it was better to be honest and save the lies when you have to be.

Despite their attempts to be casual, you know who they are, and no doubt they either know that or will soon realize it.

There was a long pause before Cass broke the silence. “I need to talk with Tools for a moment.”

Damn, you are in trouble.

“Agreed, Ace, my dear, don't accidentally mindwipe anyone, Duk. He's pretty chill,” you said jokingly; your youngest merely nodded before staring at the vigilante; understandably, this caused him to move his chair slightly away from the child.

You let your taller partner guide you behind the restaurant, ducking into a nearby alley. You wait for her to gather her thoughts before facing you.

“Do you hate them?”

“Nah, they're fun to be around.”

“The way you two talk-”

“We sound like we are constantly sniping at each other's throats? Maybe it is on their end, but most of my relationships are built with deadpan scientists who normally are 10 to 40 years my senior.”

“Sounds fun”

“It's something else, but I don’t hate your family, annoy them maybe; I just kinda forgot they don’t know me. Probably came off a bit more callous than intended,”

“It's okay; I still love you despite your weirdness.”

“Oh, big talk, considering your backstory.”

“Mine didn’t involve creating clones, mister.”

“That's completely normal for someone of my intelligence; it to make up for the lack of common sense-”

She gently shoved you against the wall before you comprehended what was happening. She practically hovers above you, invading your personal space. She smiles down at you, loving the newfound silence.

“You talk too much, little rabbit,” she utters with a newfound seductive tone. This is new, and you’re intimidated almost as much as you loved it. You were lifted off your feet as she held you against the wall, and you two began to make out. You could feel her tongue break into your mouth and dominate your own. You shutter in silent ecstasy as her presence consumes your very being.

A reminder of who you belonged to.

“You always were such easy prey.”

“You make it easy to want it to be caught.”

If you two weren’t busy sucking faces, she would’ve been smirking. Time stood still as the world just became you two. At least that you felt so before she gently put you back down. She wanted to go further, but her rational side managed to get through to her.

“I want a taste, but the others are waiting. Plus, think of this as punishment for nearly killing us.”

“Custom rubber bullets! You all would’ve lived.” You defended yourself weakly; her expression made it clear she was not convinced in any form or fashion.

You wanted to deny that further, but there was no point in coming off whiny and childish. Not to mention, you got Ace and Maureen to look after; it was unfair to them to leave them in the hands of strangers after just barely learning to trust someone like you again.

“Don’t worry, my little rabbit,” she leaned down, speaking into your ear in a welcoming tone.

“I’ll consume you soon enough.”
---
“Can you read it again?” Ace tugged at your shoulder. She had found her new favorite book, “If I Ran the Zoo” by Dr. Suess. Usually, you don’t waste your time hating the deceased for petty reasons.

But reading the same children's book for the fifth time was testing your will not to hate the man.

You had to remind yourself this wasn’t for you; this was for the girl in front of you so powered through. Instead, you merely began tucking her in. “I think it's time for bed, sweetheart. We'll read it tomorrow, I promise.” You kiss her forehead before turning off the light.

You turned to Maureen, but she was already fast asleep. You guess she had enough listening to Dr. Suess’ work as well. Usually, you would’ve gotten them separate rooms, but considering the house you originally had for them was trashed. Alternatives had to be made.

You kissed her on the forehead before walking to the door.

“Good night, Daddy.”

You paused and stared into the darkness. Has Ace already got a handle on telepathy? On a basic level, it seemed so.

Your shock was quickly pushed aside with pride. Of course, Ace did. She is your daughter; she will be a prodigy, maybe not in the same fields you're in, but a prodigy nevertheless.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” You replied before shutting the door.

Good lord, time flies; at least it is time to rest.

At least that's what you would’ve said if your communicator hadn’t flared up as soon as you came downstairs. Hastily, you grab it, just barely avoiding dropping it.

“What's wrong, Knightfall?”

“City on fire”

You confused the communication device before peeking out the window. Sure enough, while you were playing a single dad on the outskirts of Gotham. Central Gotham was bursting in literal flames. Did Human Torch or something decide he hated this place or something? I mean, you wouldn’t blame him for burning the place down; it's just the issue of there being people who live here.

“I’ll gather the team.”

“Can’t join as Knightfall will cause suspicion.”

That's fine; typically, you don’t lead, but it is nothing you never done before. “You just do what needs to be done. I’ll handle the rest.” You tried to reassure her; you know she feels responsible as the de facto leader of the Outsiders.

“Thank you”

“Don’t mention I’ll see you soon,” You promised her before ending the call. Not how you wanted to spend your night, but sacrifices had to be made once you decided to wear the cape.

Metaphorically, of course. Considering the safe hazards, you wouldn’t be caught dead with a cape.
---
You stood on top of Elliot Memorial Hospital with most of the team, being one of the few buildings not being attacked yet anyway. You watched as members teleported by your side one by one. Black Lighting stood next to you, his eyes turning into a fierce glare at the carnage before him. It wasn’t just the fires to worry about; the whole city was filled with crooks and goons running throughout, using the destruction around them to go wild on the innocent or stores. Too many criminals were wearing clown makeup or masks to be a coincidence, either.

“What the plan?” the lightning-themed hero asked of you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Right now, we should be focusing on containing the chaos, and then we can try to find out who decided to have the world’s worst gender reveal party. Batman and every Gotham vigilante in town is figuring out who to blame for this.

“So we basically manpower and backup?” Metamorpho raised an eyebrow.

“Considering he’s the world's greatest detective, he figures it out sooner than we will. They’re just lacking manpower and power to stop this madness.” You shrugged; you may be smart, but intelligence is a spectrum. Your capability of breaking the known laws of physics and biology doesn’t translate to being a mystery solver.

“Works for me; just tell me who needs to be sent flying,” the young witch cut in, seemingly neutral about the event in front of her. Considering some of the nonsense the mystical world you occasionally had to see and experience, you’re not surprised.

“I need you to play firefighter; I doubt the mundane smoke eaters will douse all these flames fast. Of course, if you wanna knock some goons outta town simultaneously, go wild”.

Black Alice merely smirked as confirmation before disappearing from your sight, allowing you to focus on the rest.

“Black Lighting, you and Metromorpho act as the primary ground recovery team, get as many people out of this crossfire as possible and knock some heads while you’re at it. Thrillkiller, you are going to be our Air Patrol. Help where you can with the fires with Black Alice, and save those in any places unreachable for most.”

You watched most of your team nod and disperse before turning to Katana. She merely nodded as you both began running rooftop from the rooftop. You two would be hunting for answers, but there was another reason.

While she does work better with Black Lightning in terms of fighting, you weren’t afraid to kill. Which meant interrogations either of you made would get complaints from the other.

Thankfully, looking for answers didn’t take long as you two looked down to see another Clown Rally. Well, it's time to see if their boss is behind or taking advantage of it, though you doubt he would ever be willing to play second fiddle to anyone.

You both dive down in your respective poses; you worked with each other long enough these last few months to not feel the need to babysit the other. When the gangster found time to look up, you made the first one taste your foot and then the ground.

“ITS THE FREAKIN BAT”

“Nah, you idiot, it's the Kingslayer!”

Oh, you are making a name for yourself. That is a boost in the pride. You thank both of them by only caving in their kidneys slightly less than most before hopping over another one, trying to ambush you with a rusty pipe. He turns around, going for another swing, but you catch it before ripping it out of his hands and smashing him with the weapon with enough force to bend it,

You should get a melee weapon of your own one of these days. You get almost jealous as you watch your partner cut through the men. Sparing most of them leaves scars that will last a lifetime.

Someone decided to call in reinforcement as soon as you thought you were done. More of these pests spawned from nowhere from corners of the area. That's okay; you are always down to having more fun.

The bullet that ripped through the head of belonging to the news mooks surprised both factions as two more people decided down to the ground; one was the Red Hood, but the redhead guy was not a native. You have seen him occasionally on the news, rarely in the forefront, though. He used to run with Green Arrow before something happened. No one in the public knew.

Camdus only had rumors; the reasonings could be drugs or not getting enough respect. However, now you’re finally remembering what he is going by nowadays again.

Arsenal, was it? Formerly Red Arrow.

Didn’t he also used to go by Speedy or something?

Speedy sounds like it should belong to a Flash sidekick, but you’re not going over there to tell him that and risk pissing off a guy who has arrows and knows how to use them.

“So, is this reinforcements or typical hero misunderstanding that will cause us to fight?” you tried to be as casual as possible; you were immune to most light gunfire in this suit, but Red Hood was no doubt carrying something heavier than a pistol and well, even without him. You didn’t exactly make your suit arrowproof, and there are other fish to fry.

The fallen former sidekick merely sized you up a moment as he walked up to you. The tension was so enormous even the baddies were stopping to see what was about to happen. “Depends. Are you with these chuckle nuts or the bombings?” he asked in his casual manner.
“We are the reason most of them on the ground need to go to a hospital or a morgue.”

“Then I think we both know where we stand.”

You two nod before turning around, covering each other’s backs while getting into mutual fighting positions. Your enemies flinched despite outnumbering your four-person group by at least 30-something men.

Then again, they could send 50, which wouldn’t be enough, and this is a perfect time to test out a new gadget. You punched your fists, activating your built-in shock gloves. Well, this night might be far from fun, but at least you’ll get some enjoyment.

“Ready, rookie?”

“Born for this”

Your allies raised their respective weapons as you charged at the nearest sob with your right fist raised and crackled with electricity.

Time to get to work.
---
“Not bad for a new guy,” Red Hood whistled from the rooftop; you merely nodded as you looked at the continuing chaos; there was something nightmarish seeing the big screens of Gotham’s central square still running fine with advertisem*nts as usual while people were suffering down below.

It is nothing like fiction.

Katana was busy interrogating the person who was most unfortunate to wake up. You let her handle it; it is one thing to threaten to kill someone, but it is another to threaten them with death and trap them within a sword for eternity, denying eternity rest or whatever afterlives exist.

Unsurprisingly, that tends to make even some of the most loyal folks open their mouths.

“I doubt I would call myself new at this, but I guess I am compared to you two.”

“At least you can take a compliment.”

“Appreciate it, man; this asshole here rarely gives them to his friends,” Arsenal chuckled; his fellow anti-hero merely grunted in response before regaining his attention back on you.

“Why are you here, Kingslayer?”

“I was taking care of my kids when I found this place more destroyed than usual.”

“And Knightfall?”

“Occupied, though the specifics are unknown to me.”

“I bet they are.”

The back and forth between you two ended as the swordswoman walked up to you; you glanced at the goon she talked to, who was once again knocked out. Which meant the grunt was smart enough to speak, at least.

“Any luck?” you asked.

“The clown behind it”

What a shocker

“Can’t say I’m surprised, but did you get a reason why?”

“It is his birthday.”

Hood scoffed at that notion, not that you could blame him. If there was anything consistent about Joker, he was inconsistent. He likely picked a random day of the year as his “birthday” to justify this Firefly’ wet dream.

Even if he did have a consistent birthday, it would be April 1st. That is just common sense.

“Alright, so we found the “reason,” but where is the damn jester?” You looked at Hood, who merely shrugged. “Knowing him, he will make an announcement soon enough; we can start tracking from there. ”

“Think we can find him.”

“He always leaves a chance to be tracked for the old man; it is just a matter of reaching him in time.”

This is all a game to Joker; of course, he would leave an opening for Batman.

Your opening might’ve come sooner than you thought as the clown prince’s laughter broke throughout the area through the speakers. The screens replaced their standard ads with the famous deranged serial killer currently located in some sort of meeting room.

“Good evening, ladies and germs! Joker here! I hope you have been enjoying my little birthday bash because I promise you it has only just begun,” Joker spoke before letting out another giggle. It pissed you off, honestly, despite it being directed at everyone in town. It felt like he was addressing you personally.

“That room... it's Wayne Enterprises,” Hood muttered.

“Wayne Enterprises? That should be the most secure place on this side of the country, and no one knew he was there.”

“Clown is smarter than he has any right to be. They must’ve hacked our system. Plus, it makes our job looking for him easier.”

“The catch”

“He would only make it this easy to find him if he knew he could keep us at bay.”

Before you can respond, the sinister jester begins speaking again. “I truthfully wish to be down there with all of you. However, I still need to attend to the VIPs, my Candles!” He crackles before pushing the camera to film the tied of victims, each of them forced to hold a lightened candle strapped to the top of their table. All of them were big names, CEOs, and Celebrities, but only one mattered to you

Your sister, Samatha

“These proud volunteers blessed their hearts and will help me celebrate another glorious year. I was so honored I felt selfish, so why not? Have the city blow something away with me?”

He casually walks up to one of his victims before snapping toward someone offscreen; a shotgun was tossed into his arms in return. His smile widens inhumanely before rising into the face of the man begging for his life before firing.

The results were, let's say, the poor man was going to have a close-casket funeral.

You all raised your arms as a massive explosion erupted from a nearby building in response to prevent getting hit in the head by any debris. You thank the stars and whatever above them you guys didn’t decide to station yourself there, but that means-

“I decided to rig each of my candles’ vitals with Deadman’s switches. This means that whenever they go, their big companies follow them to the great beyond; now, that is what I call a tax layoff! That's right, and whenever I blow out one of my candles, the city will join me whenever it wants to or not, with each firework bigger than the last.”

Your heart almost stops as he strolls down to the next victim.

“But don’t worry. I am not the kind of clown to tear through his gifts at once. I will go nice and slow and pick them off individually so your party can continue until the grand finale! GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Plans changed; this monster has wiped out entire families, your parents included. He has repeatedly done every crime in the book and probably invented a few new ones. When Gotham is saved, and everything is said and done.

Joker dies

Chapter 7: Stricken

Chapter Text

When you finished that thought, you almost wanted to backtrack it immediately.

Killing Joker is no easy feat, despite by all means, the clown should’ve been gunned down ages ago, be it by a hero, a cop, or hell, even one of his henchmen; somehow and in some way, this pale-skinned bastard manages to breathe to see another day.

The fact is, you're going to have to play this right. The likelihood of success is low.

It's not that you’re not going to try. After all, low chances of success don’t mean zero—far from it. If anything, this is a learning experience. You won’t stop until Joker is dead and gone. Hell, you might even expand this to Penguin. He wasn’t above attacking family, especially your family, after what you did, but he came later either way.

It would have to be when he was most vulnerable and couldn’t get into anyone’s head.

“How are we playing it? Gotham, not exactly my territory,” you muttered, trying to let the disdain and anger you felt not ease through your voice. If your newfound ally noticed, he didn’t react to it. We’ll work our way from the top and go from there; the big man himself probably already snuck into the building. We’ll get in each other's way if we do the same. It's best to try and split Joker’s attention as much as possible.”

“I admit, I was expecting something more direct.”

“Sorry to disappoint rookie, let go”

He didn’t let you respond before hopping down from the building and grappling to Wayne Enterprise, his companion following his example. You and Katana looked at each other before nodding and following their lead. The trip wasn’t long, but it still felt like hours; any moment, Samatha could be staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

Red Hood didn’t even bother giving the lobby a chance, not that you could blame him despite chaos being everywhere in this part of Gotham. Wayne Enterprise still managed to find itself surrounded by police officers, which he would probably want to avoid.

You’re not exactly sure what Red Hood’s current relationship with the police is. Still, you can imagine introducing yourself to the city as a crime lord and later as a vigilante who still was not opposed to killing like the rest of the bats. The relationship was probably strained at best.

Red Arrow shot an arrow through one of the windows, breaking it to allow each of you to dive in individually. The place was a massacre, to say the least, from the bodies all over the floor to the broken cubicles everywhere.

“Well, we can say he passed by here,” you half-whispered.

The four of you made your way up, occasionally taking out whoever was unfortunate enough to be guarding the staircase. You wished nothing was notable outside your standard employee corpse, but that changed with the fourth floor.

“Christ,” Red Hood muttered, though his shock sounded more out of disgust than surprise. He had been in this business for too long to be truly surprised by something like this; This was merely the baseline for Joker’s mayhem.

A baseline he is always looking to increase.

You silently walk through the hall, closing your eyes from the sight. You consider yourself pretty cold regarding the job but rarely have you considered even your worst action cruel. Don’t get it twisted; there were times you would love nothing more than torture someone to the blink of their sanity, but in the end, nine times out of ten, it was more beneficial in the long run to blow their brains out.

However, even after all your time in Cadmus, nothing you have seen or done could compare to Joker.

“What day is it?” you uttered softly.

Katana snapped out; no doubt was her dark thoughts. “April 25,” She responded, and it all made sense.

It was Take Your Child to Work Day.

The disembodied tiny bodies filled the room. Some were sewn together, and too many were not, just chunks of meat all over the bodied floor. Bodies of innocents that would never have the chance to grow, to change, to feel alive.

Why?

Why did they deserve this?

Because the universe is cruel?

No, it was because of a man, a singular cancerous man who seems to get away with everything. They were not people; they were just sacks of meat, playthings to break to get attention from some guy in a bat suit.

You kneel to touch one of the closet corpses, uncaring the blood on your suit. The girl before you was so young; she looked nothing like your children. Yet, you could only see Ace and Maureen in her.

Gone forever

A hand grabs your shoulder, regaining your attention. Looking up, I saw Arsenal holding his grim expression.

“We gotta keep going to prevent this from getting worse.”

“I’m a father, and they’re just…”

“I know; I’m one too.”

---

“5000…5001…1002…and 5003!”

The blond Kyptoninan clone sighed in relief as she disconnected herself from the machine. It was nothing special; it allowed her to shoulder press a mass equal to Jupiter’s.

Okay, maybe it was a little special

Usually, she likes to brag to her father, maybe bust his chops a bit before getting praise from him. But because of some bullsh*t outside of her control. She can’t have that. Instead, he is forced to play house.

She hasn’t met her youngest “sisters.” she wasn’t in any rush to do so either. She didn’t particularly hate them; if anything, she somewhat empathized with them. Being Cadmus's care blows, and she was one of the lucky ones. It didn’t change that they were taking away time from her dad.

She now understands every eldest child’s feelings.

“Good, you’re keeping up with your training.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, she turns to meet Amanda's eyes. Usually, she would be snarky with the witch, but right now, playing a good girl act would be brilliant. If only long enough, she would get what she wanted.

“How can I help you, Waller?”

“Cut the bullsh*t.”

Okay, so much for the good girl act.

“Alright, what the f*ck do you want Waller? This is my personal time, and I am not inclined to share it.”

“I want a damn report, 20 minutes ago.”

“I was getting to it.”

“You were supposed to get to it immediately, now more than ever, considering you are pulling double duty.”

“You’re not my mom, Waller. Everyone who needed to die was floating in space, a burnt mark in the walls, or spattered in some isolated wasteland.”

That was not the answer her “boss” wanted as the shorter woman proceeded to get in her face. “In case you forgot, you work for Cadmus; therefore, you work for me. When I need something done, I must ensure it is done and, more importantly, done right. You’re a valuable asset, but don’t you dare assume you are any less-

Amanda's little ramble was cut short when she found herself lifted by her throat. Galatea just needs to squeeze a little tighter, and she would personally send this bitch to hell on a one-way ticket.

“You know, I love thinking about how powerful I am, especially how more powerful I will undoubtedly become with time. The only thing I like more is finally exercising that power… right now.”

She smiled at Waller’s misery attempts to express unimpressedness. It might’ve worked on almost anyone else, but her heartbeat gave away her feelings.

It always does.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Waller. I hate you; I hate most of Cadmus, frankly. The number of people I care about personally can be counted on mainly one hand with some fingers remaining.”

God, she wanted to do this for so long. Flaring her eyes red with heat, she further demonstrated how done she was with all these ants.

“And the one person who been making my life bearable has been kicked out to play babysitter. So, out of the goodness of my heart, when I let you go, I want you to consider how you and everyone speak to me after you. Am I understood? Good”

She dropped Waller back on the ground. Will this come back to bite her? Well, they sure as well damn try to make so. Props to Amanda; however, as soon as she caught her breath, she was already back to her typical cold character. You honestly would have been able to tell her life probably just flashed in front of her eyes for a moment.

"When did you get the balls, Galatea?”

“Strength isn’t the only thing that has been improved about me. Dad made sure I got upgraded in more ways than one.”

“And who approved of that?”

“Funny you think he would need any.”

“Fine, I’ll deal with one problem at a time then; since you haven’t finished your mission technically without those reports, I will ask you to add one more person to the list for today.”

“Where they’re at?”

“National City, California”

“I could always use an extra bath in the sunlight. Reason or that need to know?”

“Former D.E.O agents, that's all you need to know, and frankly, I don’t think you care if I told you anything else.”

“Looks like you finally understand me, Waller.”

Unfortunately, Waller didn’t bite on her teasing, instead handing her a folder she had been concealing. Opening it revealed most of the tracking stuff, but all that mattered was the names and faces.

Jeremiah and Eliza Danvers

What poor unfortunate bugs

---

Cassandra smashed the last thug into the wall, using her head to silently communicate with the latest round of hostages that it was safe to leave. She stepped out of the way as they rushed past her.

“Black Bat, status report”

“Hostages safe”

“Good, I’m ending this.”

Her dad sounded furious, though given the location, it adds up. This was a unique case. The Joker doesn’t typically hit this close to home; she always suspects he knew who they were despite Batman’s efforts to tell her otherwise; it's just that the Joker never cared to do anything with the information.

Until today

She grappled into one of the available vents, maneuvering her way up to the position. She would be confident about taking out their opponents. Still, the clown willingly shoots someone if things go too well, and that trigger finger has only improved with each confrontation with a dark knight.

Most importantly, they don’t know what he truly wants besides it being Batman’s attention.

With some climbing, she managed to maneuver right on top of Joker and his last group of hostages, or rather, what was left of them. From this angle, she could see only three breathing.

One of them was Samatha. She hopes Batman does something soon. That is one person she cannot allow to die.

Tools had lost enough, and it didn’t take much to think about what he could do without someone being his rock. Cass might be his most prominent, or at least she likes to believe so, but she wasn’t nor should not be his only one from diving over the deep end.

If Samatha went…

Thankfully, such lingering thoughts were cut off as the caped crusader kicked down the door, allowing him to confront his nemesis. The pale man’s smile widened even further as he pulled Samatha by the hair as the most important person of his life finally arrived.

“It's about time you came down here, bats. Has age slowed you down that much?”

“Let her go, Joker.”

“You're so serious all the time. Do you know that cannot be good for your health? It wouldn’t kill you to give a smile, you know? Or maybe it would! HAHAHA!”

“What do you want?”

“Time”

The clown’s face shifted into an uncomfortable frown before smiling again.

“I missed when it was just us Bats when you were involved in the first boy blunder. It was a nice change of pace, and I admit I got some joy out of that second one, but how many kids now? Not all of them are even yours! In this building, we already got Green Arrow’s reject, a walking stereotype, and someone giving off false advertising cause I have yet to see any slayed royalty. You are even getting the handicapped involved! That mute freak is even more a fun killer than you; an apple doesn’t fall from the tree.”

He let out an annoyed sigh, pulling his hostage’s hair harder.

“But a repeated joke isn’t fun enough anymore, don’t you feel it, Batsy? We need to change the game a bit. You have gotten too much assistance. I need to improve my efforts; otherwise, this will stop being fun. So I took the liberty of remaking our dear city of fun, and here is my next trick.”

Using his free hand, he pulls a detonator.

“You know who my favorite kind of heroes are? It's the deep-fried ones.”

He pressed it, causing the building to rumble with almost divine fury. Cass began to move and jump out of the vent as Joker pushed Samatha ahead before pulling out his pistol to line up with the back of her head before firing.

---

“You got to be kidding me! Move!”

Red Hood practically smashed the doors of their hinges as they began fleeting upstairs. Every time looking for an alternative exit, it flares up into flames and explosions.

The universe loves proving him right over and over again.

Not that Bruce will ever be listening.

“Anyone down there is-” The rookie began to mention, but Jason had to cut them off. “We have to focus on ourselves right now. He is well aware that anyone who somehow has survived this massacre and hasn’t fled already is likely dead.

Unfortunately, he is also well accustomed to the fact that you cannot have time to worry about others outside your immediate area. The guilt will eat you alive, and he already has plenty of demons consuming him.

“Stairs are down!” Katana warned, the crumbling rubble blocking the path, making her point more than apparent. Roy nodded, kicking the entry to the 37th floor. The flames chasing them from below quickly reached them.

“We reached a dead end, Hood.” The redhead stated

“Then we make an opening!” the former robot shouted, pulling a grenade from his jacket and throwing it at the ceiling. This caused another explosion and left a hole in the wall, allowing them to zipline through the new puncture.

“We need to”

“Look out!”

The rookie pushed all three ahead as the roof below crumbled down the kid, pinning him down. Before he could even run over to help him, another thunderous explosion flared at him and the rest.

He felt a piece of his helmet shatter almost instantly as he and the others were sent flying through the glass and out of the building, becoming victims to gravity; Jason could only watch as he saw the ground quickly approaching before he found himself stopped midair.

“Looks like someone having fun.”

“Well, isn’t my favorite blonde?”

The last daughter of Krypton smiled at him.

“Roy and Katana?”

“On the nearest rooftop, I’m finally back on earth, and the first I have to do is save you and everyone’s butt.”

“No…not everyone”

He could only stare at his family’s burning building, a place that was almost his tomb.

---

“They might have sh*tty luck, but they have excellent taste in toppings,” Galatea couldn’t help but talk to herself as she worked on some of their leftover pizza. It was nice to indulge without sharing with her sister for once.

Her and her crappy vegetables, I mean, a few toppings, is one thing, but seriously vegetarian or, heaven forbid, a vegan pizza? Please.

Think of the animals' nonsense, like bitch; we kill people for a living.

Her internal ramblings were cut short when the door knob finally began to turn. The door creaked as a middle-aged couple walked in; it was almost tempting to spook them like she used to do on her dad when she was a kid. She finally got their attention when the couple walked into the kitchen.

“Kara?”

“Well, from a certain point of view, Mr. Danvers.”

“You’re not my daughter.”

“Are you almost as happy over that fact as I am? I assure you, my father is far more impressive than you’ll ever be.”

“So you’re a clone.”

“I recommend you both sit down because the next stray word ensures I’ll go after Linda next.”

That shuts them up quickly; it is a simple but effective method. She would know; Cadmus loved using it over her head. A mission here and there without her father’s approval, threatening what they’ll do if she doesn’t apply

Ah, well, it was a good learning experience.

The wife of the couple spoke first.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I’m afraid that is very wrong, Mrs. Danvers. Much like any job we are handed in life, we have obligations: obligations to succeed, obligations to provide, Obligations to protect, etc., and in my case, obligations to handle pest control.”

“We did nothing wrong! We don’t work for DEO anymore.”

“I know, but someone still wants you dead.”

“Waller”

“Smart little insect, are you sure you’re not the former scientist between you and your man?”

“She’ll betray you.”

“Preaching to the choir, plus you can’t be betrayed by someone if they were never a friend or ally in the first place.”

“We can-”

“Eliza, stop.”

Galatea turned to the male half of the duo.

“Oh, got your bargain now, old man?”

“No”

He gave her a defiant look; the poor thing probably thought she was impressed.

“Nothing we say will convince you not to kill us.”

“Caught on quickly, yeah, you’re both meeting God today,” She chuckled.

“Why”

“Why what?”

“You could’ve killed us with your intel and powers nearly any time, so why? Why have this conservation? Why have us try and bargain?”

“Why? Because I can.Mr. Danvers. As someone who likely has a respectable body count yourself, you should know people, especially those who know they’re going to die, often show who they are in the end. Most are just scared, some angry, hell, a few even happy, but one who I like the most personally? The brave ones, the ones who stare death in the face because it makes them easier to remember, especially when their facade breaks.”

“You’re a monster.”

“And yet you both wish you two were me.”

“Why would we ever wish to be like you?”

“Oh, that's easy. You two are here, and I am here. In a few minutes, I will still be here.”

Her eye flared dangerously red.

---

“Perhaps this was not the wisest decision,” Kaldur told his comrades as they snuck through the building.

“Come on, don’t tell me your chicken! Buck buck!” The speedster from the future, Bart Allen, mocked his friend before Tim signaled him to be quiet.

“It's too late to back out now; communications are down.”

“How down are we talking about?”

“The fact not even Batman’s systems have picked this up screams something big is being hidden here.”

“Don’t need to be wiz kid to know that; this the beginning of every uncovering of a government conspiracy story out there.”

Before either of them could retort at his effort to connect reality with fiction, they had to dive back into their hiding spots as a door shot opened, revealing yet another lab coat. However, the person he was with was unique in this one.

Lex Luthor himself didn’t look how as the two walked down the hall.

“I don’t want excuses; I want results, Dr. Hamilton.”

“He isn’t a machine, Lex. He not someone you can turn off and on.”

“He is reckless, a hot head, and most importantly, doesn’t apply himself.”

“With all due respect, he excel in all the previous tests that you had us run him through.”

“Excel by yourself standards, doctor, a far cry from my own.”

“Well, we can’t change him without Dr. Harrison’s research,” Hamilton said with as neutral an expression as possible. It was clear he was not a fan of his fellow researcher.

“Are you not a scientist yourself?”

“I am, but he is not equal when working with Kryptonian DNA. With the research I do have, I could make you another one, but it would take time.”

“And wait for another disappointment, hardly. If I wanted to try again, I could do it easily myself.”

“He the only one who can safely edit the boy then. That is just a fact at the moment, and we work on him blind, and we risk all sorts of consequences including but not limited to cancerous tumors or even brain death.”

The business stopped before looking at the scientist dead in the eye for the first time.

“Please tell me why I’m not talking with him but with you instead.”

“He caused some trouble.”

“Trouble, right? The Wayne Manor incident.”

He takes a deep breath before slamming Hamilton into a wall.

“It's such a minuscule issue in the grand scheme of things, and what you’re telling me is it's getting in my way of success?”

“What he did was-”

“He could’ve genocided the Martians for all I care. What matters is that I get what I need. Tell the rest of Cadmus to get him back to working on what truly matters, or else.”

“I will push the message forward.”

“That's the least you can do.”

Satisfied for now, Luthor let the doctor go before walking down the Hallway and unknowingly the sidekicks. Hamilton, on his part, quickly regained his composure before following one of his bosses on the way out.

“Kryptonian, huh?”

“The league isn’t going to like this,” Kaldur commented before scratching his chin. But they’ll like it even less if they are not notified. We need to head back now.”

He didn’t even get to turn around when the second kid flash appeared behind him.

“Woah man, did you not hear about this Kryptonian, likely a kid under Lex, and let me repeat that Lex bloody Luthor’s care?”

“Perhaps we can get help for him, but are we approaching him now? That is dangerous Impulse.”

“Hey, Lex even said he was disobedient.”

“Disobedient and disloyal are not the same thing. We act disobedient by digging deeper without backup, yet we are no less loyal to our mentor and community.”

“Okay, but what does your heart say?”

“You’re joking.”

“Am I?”

“This is guilty tripping.”

“Is it working?”

“...Fine”

“Woohoo! We are all in the same boat, Rob. If you could-”

They both turned to see him waiting semi-patiently at the hacked door.

“Coming?”

“Show off”

“I learned from the best.”

The pathway from this moment forward was pretty straightforward. Sure, they were approximately 50 floors underground, but considering the normal evildoer’s lair, this was still relatively break-in.

“Woah, slow down,” Kaldur commended his comrades.

“Found something?” Tim asked

“Possibly, this one seems to have inside.”

The third boy wonder did his magic again; the place was nearly pitched back beside a single control panel and a nice-sized pod.

“I think we found our guy.”

“If not him, definitely someone else might be in just as much trouble.” Impulse commented

They approach the viewing glass.

“It…Superman, well, a younger verison of him anyway.”

Impulse was right. Barring the younger features, he was a dead ringer for the Man of Steel. Hair, skin color, hell, despite the age difference, you could see a very similar build.

“A Superboy? Think he aware of his surroundings?” Robin commented.

The boy's eyes snapped open as if to answer their question before forming a glare.

Oh no.

---

“Thanks for coming here. Diana,” The Man of Steel commented to one of his oldest friends in the Superhero community. For her part, the daughter of Hippolyta only smiled back.

“Think nothing of it, Clark, though I doubt I am the best one for the job for such a case.”

Superman nodded somberly, “I know. I already asked Barry, and he is busy confirming it. Bruce is busy in Gotham. You know me, Diana, and you've seen the damage my kind can do. I want you to confirm this for me.”

The Amazon nodded as she followed the hero into the household; for the most part, everything was intact until she smelt the faint stench of burnt flesh. It took quite a bit of mental strength not to flinch at the sight of mangled, burnt corpses.

“By Hera…”

Even after all the years she had been alive, the bloodshed of the innocent was still a sore spot for the demigoddess. Some would say it is a sign of weakness, but she would say it is a sign of humanity.

“Who were they?”

“Kara’s adoptive parents”

“Does she know?”

“She will; that's why I needed to confirm with you. You fought plenty of my race. Does this look like it could be the result of heat vision?”

She looks at the few burnt marks on the walls, the way it was angle…

“Yes, it does, but Clark, it's not like your kind are the only ones capable of heat vision.”

“But how many besides my own would be interested in two innocent civilians who also happen to be harboring a Kryptonian under their watch?”

“Do you feel guilty because of another’s actions? No one is going to blame you or Kara for this. You will not looked down upon for this tragedy.”

“When I arrived at the Watchtower and got myself updated, I read about what happened in Wayne Manor.”

“What of it?”

“If Bruce’s theory is correct, there are clones of Kara running around, possibly at least a clone of me around there as well.

He curls his hands into fists.

“Someone or group, likely Cadmus i,s using the abilities, the abilities I used to protect to take innocent lives, and they were able to do so by using my family’s DNA, and I’m not even sure how. Was it from the blood I spilled from one of my many battles? Was it from a friend I thought I could trust? I don’t know beyond that this my responsibility.”

Diana placed a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Perhaps it is your responsibility, but you won’t have to do it alone. We’ll gather the others and put a stop to this.”

“Thank you”

Of course, both knew it would be more complex than that, especially dealing with an organization as shady and government-powered as Cadmus. Still, they also knew that justice would ultimately prevail as long they persisted.

Cadmus’ days were numbered; they'll make sure of it.

---

Batman was quick to the draw, throwing one of his batarangs to knock his nemesis’ gun out of his hand. Joker didn’t have another chance at his hostage’s life again before the weight of Blackbat smashed into his back, pinning him to the ground.

“Jeez, have you considered going on a diet? We could start on the top by removing that head of yours.”

A punch across the jaw was her response to that.

“Party Pooper”

Both vigilantes ignored him as Bruce tapped the comms. If Joker even harmed one of his kids after tonight.

He is not sure what he’ll do.

“Status report”

“Signal here. I was heading in but never got inside before things went bad. I can’t say I’m complaining. Same here with Robin.”

“Tch”

“Spoiler?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily; I'm still helping civilians. It's hell out here; your headquarters isn’t the only place he lit up in flames with those fireworks. How about you and Black Bat?”

“The structure is still stable and has been reinforced for planetary invasions. We’ll be fine. Red Hood comes in.”

“Red Hood, come in.”

Nothing

“Red Hood Report”

Still silence

“Jas-”

“I’m here, I’m here. Comms are a bit damaged.”

Thank god

“Everyone safe?”

“Not everyone. A certain female Kryptonian saved us, but we lost one. One of the new heroes, Kingslayer, saved our lives but got caught under some rubble, and well…Kara looks like Bruce, but it does not look good.”

“No…” Black Bat muttered, and the cape crusader sighed in shame as well. Another soul is trying to do good, taken from this earth because of a twisted man. Of course, said twisted man couldn’t help but provide some commentary from sitting their reactions.

“Oh! Did I get one? Was it Dead Hood? Oh, please tell me it was him or maybe his boyfriend. I always wanted to get back at Greenie for thinking of boxing gloves arrows before I did.”

The clown chuckled to himself before being lifted from the ground. Black Bat glaring daggers into him.

Something has snapped again.

This disease, this cancer, is in front of her.

How dare he still breathe.

He needed to suffer, something she had not felt since her assassin days, but there was no Deathstroke, no David Cain to blame this time.

This anger belonged to her alone.

She dropped him to his feet before beginning to beat him, each strike and blow more profound and more precise than the last. Any attempts of him even getting a chance to breathe, much less a chuckle, was cut off by a fist into the chest or throat.

No more laughter, no more joy. He will not even have a chance to enjoy the pain. She grabbed him from the scuff of his shirt before throwing him against the wall, and before he could even slide down, she was back on top of him.

Every bone she broke.

Every bruise she left.

It was not enough, never enough.

Both for all the harm he caused

And for taking someone who belonged to her

She lost count of how many times she wailed at him, just particular highlights. A rear hook that shattered his jaw, an uppercut that most certainly caused a loss of teeth before landing a devastating kick that sent him through the wall.

There is no time for regrets.

Redemption, atonement, and forgiveness can be made one day.

What matters most is that this piece of subhuman garbage dies. At least, that is what she believed at the moment as she grabbed this monster's throat and began strangling him and looking him in the eye.

And what was going through Joker’s head during all of this?

Pure bliss

Suppose there was one alternative that even came close to the sheer ecstasy of getting Batsy to do him in finally. It was getting his beloved prodigies to do it in his stead; no one could understand his sheer joy when Red Hood revealed himself as the second Robin.

It certainly shot him up in Joker’s book, but this was different and even better.

Even as a kid, Hood always had that aggression and grit. Joker would know. He was there for his final moments—hell, he was the cause of them. His no-kill rule was going to slip eventually sooner or later.

But this was different.

He never often faced Black Bat, but he heard she mimicked Batboob the most. Talk about a daddy’s girl, but if he broke her, then…

Well, that changes things.

It only meant he was on the right path to finally break his beloved Batsy, even if he didn’t live to capitalize on that fact. The blood on her hands will be a good trade-off. He merely tried to smile as a final fist was raised to put him to rest.

Only for it to be caught and pulled back. She turned to swing at who did this but she found herself quickly caught in an embrace.

“It's over,” her father said as he continued to hug her.

“He killed so many.”

“I know; I’m sorry. I truly am, but ending him won’t return any of them. It never does.”

There is a reason why Bruce never wants his kids, not even those as experienced as Dick, to fight Joker. Not only was the Clown Prince a dangerous opponent despite his less-than-impressive martial arts skills. He was a manipulator to the end, and even to his dying breath, he could destroy those unprepared for his carnage and pull a win, even if it cost him his life.

"Hello?”

Batman tapped his comms again.

“Red Hood?”

“We can confirm Kingslayer is alive. By God, the dumb bastard pulled through.”

The two nodded before separating, a silver lining of this night finally showing itself in this city. Silently, he urged her to attend to the surviving hostage as he went over to Joker.

“Is he with you?”

“No, he confirmed it with us through Katanna’s comms, and I told him to stay behind. He had his fill of heroism for today.”

“I think we all have,” Batman remarked as he lifted Joker. The clown choked an occasional pained laugh, his face resembling that of hamburger meat.

He got off easy as far as the Dark Knight was concerned.

---

“Jesus, really let him know he f*cked up today, didn’t you?” Gordon commented.

Batman dropped his villainous cargo on the ground. He had already dismissed the rest of the family to help the rest of the city. They didn’t need to waste their time watching Joker be put in a police car for the umpteenth time.

“Locked him up tightly this time, Gorden, the way he made it sound tonight. This might be his new standard.”

“You know, if I was less of a by-the-book cop.”

“You’re not.”

“I know; I can’t help but fantasize, don’t you?”

“All the time”

The commissioner silently nodded before signaling his men to get their culprit; the officers nodded and helped the clown onto his feet.

A loud shot rang through everyone’s ears before a bullet tore itself through the clown’s gut. The cops step back in shock as Joker stumbled a bit before turning to his Bats, his smile growing wider, filled with amusem*nt and acceptance.

“How tyat foe a noe punchline?” He gurgled out before collapsing on the ground. Gordon rushed in, yelling at someone to get the paramedics.

As for Batman?

He had already grappled up to the rooftop to chase the shower, his newfound opponent dressed in all black. He was skilled with how easily he moved across rooftops, but soon, the bat managed to cut the distance and tackle the man.

He went for a swing, but the figure was faster, punching him across the jaw before kicking him off. “Back off the merchandise pal.” The figure rushed over to kick him while the cape crusader was down, but he was faster, getting back in time to smash his fist against his foe’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.

He tried for a second punch, but the figure vanished before his eyes, reappearing from behind and elbowing the Batman from the back of the head. He reappeared again behind the caped crusader for another cheap shot, but he would find his arm caught and himself flung across the ceiling. If his opponent took any damage, he didn’t show it, as he stood back up easily.

“Who are you?”

“Just the clean-up crew.”

“You might’ve just killed a man today.”

“I wouldn’t call him a man, but you’re right. I guess I did, and you know what? I’ll do it again. Free of charge, too, keeping this city nice and clean.”

“Causing more bloodshed won’t do that.”

“Frankly, I don’t care what you think; if you want to debate morals, fight your son. Joker is a danger to Gotham, and I’m sick of it, all of it. You wanna act as the symbol of this city, so be it, but I, for one, am tired of this hell.”

They charge at each other, trying to find an opening as they trade punches and kicks. It's a unique style; the closest he can compare it to is a mix of his eldest and Shiva’s.

She must’ve found another apprentice, which explains why she was in Gotham earlier.

The elder of the two found his opening first, cracking his fist across the younger man’s chin, causing him to stumble back. He finally got a good glimpse of who he was fighting. His new enemy was in a completely black bodysuit with a red 'X on the chest area, He also had a skull-like mask, with a similar smaller X across one of his eyes.

“Did anyone tell you that you take life way too seriously?”

“Don’t make me ask again; you’re not messing with my city.”

“Your city? How arrogant of you, but if you must know my name…”

He cracked his neck before showing his X-shaped shuriken.

“It’s Red X”

Chapter 8: 24

Chapter Text

Present time

“We don’t have to do this.”

“24:00 SELECTED!” The computer shouted in a cyberized female voice.

You both swing simultaneously, your fists clashing. The act is cool in fiction, but it's excruciatingly painful to experience in real life. No wonder people claim this would usually break someone’s hands.

---

“YES, THEY ARE! Years upon years, corrupted beyond belief; you know that more than me. Now they are nothing but a cleanup crew, besides a few like Gordon, and even he still isn’t enough. The Commissioner been every opportunity to kill the man who crippled his daughter, and what did he do? Nothing in the grand scheme of things!”

---

22:40

---

12 Days before Joker’s rampage

S hiva expected little from this particular apprentice, Dr. Harrison, or Tools as he would childishly prefer.

If she were, to be honest, nothing about him stood out; he lacked any natural talent. His skills were good, but nothing special or even unique. The worst part was that combat was nothing to him emotionally, no passion, just a means to an end.

The closest she had seen him show any passionate feeling in any fight was either mockery or cold hatred, and it was only then she saw the potential.

When she sent Mad Dog after him, her apprentice would kill him and then have her revive the man so that he could kill him again and again until he finally rid the body in a fashion not even she knew where the corpse was.

But it did, and they both knew it.

For now, this was beyond just a side project for her. Killing him would motivate her daughter to finish what she started or allow Shiva to redeem that defeat at her daughter’s hand.

Either way, it was positive for her, but now is not the time to look back into the past.

If the assassin had a rebuttal, she didn’t verbalize it. Shiva merely stood in silence before leaving. This offense would only make her victory sweeter.

---

“I know you won’t; you are too good for that.” Red X spoke defiantly.

The time to fight dirty is over.

Now it gets bloody.

---

12 days ago

The skull-face killer lies defeated underneath the bat, both panting heavily. The former turned his head to the victor.

Then it clicked with Bruce; this was not some psychotic killer or a thug for money. The voice was filled with pain, bitterness, anger, and sadness.

X let go and darted off, and Batman chased after him like a hunter after prey. Red X reached the ledge before turning around and falling towards the ground below. Batman increased his speed to catch up and was about to jump himself when he watched as his enemy's falling body exploded into smithereens, scraps of mind and fuel splattered all over.

A decoy.

---

“Look like the clown wasn’t lying but having a big birthday,” Firefly announced from his cell, half happy Gotham was burning and half pissed that he wasn’t the cause, or at the very least wasn’t in on the fun.

“Zsasz?...no…Waller…I…special…for…him”

Then it begun

A gunshot followed, with someone’s body falling on the floor.

More steps, other prisoners he could not see but yell out of anger or fear.

Most went quickly silently when another gunshot went off, followed by more of those hateful steps. Each time, they would get louder and louder.

What did Edward do to deserve this? He is a genius, the most brilliant man alive! He is not one of these freaks; he is not a monster. He should be out there to prove himself.

He doesn’t deserve this.

---

8:03

Not a physical word had been traded between them.

There didn’t have to be.

“You saved my life, and you saved Markus’ life. You call yourself a weapon, but weapons don’t feel!”

---

Not even death is that interesting, now, honestly, if you asked him. He was expecting oblivion on the other end for someone like him, yet all there was was some dull limbo. The only thing worse than nothing was being aware that there was nothing!

Then…there was a light.

A beautiful bloodstain light, just for him.

Time to leave this boring dream

If he goes, it will be on his terms. He got plenty of calls and favors to cash in, most from the demented freaks. This will be his best work, magnum opus, and most importantly…

His last laugh

---

00:24

“Guess all that effort was nothing.” A familiar voice spoke to her. Her first father stood above her in place of Red X, and she felt like a child again.

“You can’t even be a weapon. That is what you get when you have distractions. For being weak. Maybe I should start again, make another kid.” David snarled at her.

“My cause has no room for monsters,” Batman voiced as he recovered from the attack. The hideout was replaced with the Batcave. The master and protege stared down as they approached each other.

“The mission always comes first, Batgirl. We must be willing to sacrifice everything for it. It is the only way for you to redeem yourself.”

“Then you no longer Batgirl”

“I am more than Batgirl! I am more than Black Bat!” Knightfall shouted as she countered her second father’s attack before returning with a blow with twice the devastation. She tried to follow up, but her left hand was caught and twisted. Lady Shiva kicked her away.

"I won’t let anyone take what belongs to me.”

She leaned down as they kissed one another, their bodies aching but their souls urging. The two began removing what little of their clothes left before embracing one and becoming one as Tools let Cassandra take control over him, her prey.

The timer above them flashed with 00:00.

“24:00 HOURS FINISHED; TRAINING SESSION COMPLETED,” The voice echoes before going silent and the room dark, leaving only two souls in each other’s blissful presence.

Chapter 9: History Has Its Eyes on You

Chapter Text

Talking

Sign Language

---

Cass felt a chill run down her spine, prompting her to tighten her coat against the unseasonable cold.

It was not standard behavior for most, considering that it was almost summer, but considering the circ*mstances, life found an exception, as always. That exception was young Maureen, the little ice-powered girl who needed practice. The best place was Cass’s only personal Batcave.

It was nothing compared to the original one stationed; it got the job done. While it did need some hacking here and there to ensure none of Cassandra’s family were peaking in because heaven forbid either of them have privacy from each other (she would know she was an offender herself), there was more than enough space for an up-and-coming metahuman.

Despite her home becoming a winter wonderland, it wasn’t the day's highlight, even if it were an interesting sight. The true highlight was the heartwarming scene of her beloved “training” with his daughter, a moment less about teaching the child how to fight and more about the joy of makeshift ice skating.

Or she attempts to do it anyway as she watches her Tools slide into one of the many piles of snow below. His unamused glance at her only caused her smile to break out in silent laughter.

“Found something funny?”

“Maybe”

His frown didn’t cover how happy he was. Perhaps his efforts were practical with almost everyone else but not to Cass.

Never her

“How you come and join us then.”

“Happily”

She hopped over the rail and landed on the ground gracefully without slipping, then smugly walked up to him.

“Okay, now that's just unfair.”

“I’m that good.”

“Well, there was never a debate, though I bet wearing boots designed to go against villains like Mr. Freeze helps.”

“Guilty”

“Why is it Mr. Freeze anyway? Isn’t he a doctor?”

“I stopped questioning names a long time.”

“I should probably do the same…any news on your brother?”

“No...Bruce is getting worried.”

“I would be, too; I’ll keep looking into it.”

“You think Camdus is involved.”

“If Tim and his friends are looking into the organizations as of late, the chances are up there. Unfortunately, I need to know my position, especially as of late. They could be under my nose for all I know, but at the same time, it's not like superheroes lack enemies.”

“Could be someone else completely unrelated.”

“Or someone Camdus hired to make it completely unrelated; these guys are no League of Doom. They’re not going to advertise themselves.”

“...”

“We’ll find them, Cass. I promise you that.”

She hoped so; she was on good terms with most of her family, but Tim was her Robin. They had been too much together with her to let him disappear. The only reason she hadn’t been panicking more was that Stephanie needed someone to be her rock at this time, and second, this wasn’t the first time one of them had disappeared for a while or even been presumed dead. She was still hoping that it would all turn out okay.

Or maybe she was just in denial; it was hard to tell between the two some days.

“Papa!” The little one of their trio pulled her dad by his sleeves. It looks like she wanted to steal back his attention. She started making hand motions to communicate.

“Can you watch me make an angel?”

“Yes, snowflake.”

They watched her scurry off as she started forming ice.

“You taught her sign language.”

“American, Indo-Pakistani, and Chinese. Just the common ones.”

“What with you and turning young girls into geniuses?”

“Meh, the potential was already there. I just utilized it.”

“Why sign language, in particular?”

“I know a certain someone who doesn’t talk much.”

“She and others will be grateful, I’m sure.”

“Grateful enough for a reward?”

“I think it could be arranged.” she bent down and kissed him. She could feel the barely visible excitement come from his body. Her prey silently begged her to retake him as they had many times since that last training session. Admittedly, sometimes, even in certain areas, that is more risky than others.

“As soon as the Snowflake is tired out.”

She silently nods as they watch Maureen attempt to make an ice sculpture. She and Tools’ children (still a weird thought even if they’re adopted) have made decent progress after only knowing them for a short amount of time. Their relationship was closer to a mother and daughters and closer to the same relationship Cassandra had with her niece. She cannot complain; at least the relationship was positive, and she is not precisely mother material right now.

She is still in college, for one.

“Is there somewhere you would like to go this summer?”

“You interested in taking a vacation?”

“I wouldn’t see why not. Unless, of course, it will be an issue:

“I used to live in China briefly, but it was mainly for hero business. I heard plenty of spots that could try for pleasure. ”

“Fair enough, never been there for any extended period. Wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

“And you?”

“Well, I always wanted to try out Switzerland.”

“Tch, what a rich person's response,” she joked.

“I got billions to burn, and it's not like I’m spending much normally.”

“Will your job allow it?”

“I have plenty of vacation days, plus I’ll woo them or something if they think otherwise. We’ll work it out—we always do.”

She feels her love resting their head against her shoulder and entrusting them with warmth and protection. Something she was more than willing to provide. Tools was right. Despite their separation, despite the troubles of the past and even more troubles in the future.

It has worked out and will always work out, and she will ensure it.

No matter the cost.

---

Tim groaned as he reluctantly awakened once more to consciousness—something that was becoming less of a mercy and more of a curse every day they were here. He struggled at the cuffs that kept him pinned to his cell. Just like the last hundred or so times, they didn’t even budge.

“Damn”

“Still with us, eh Rob?”

The third Boy Wonder turned to acknowledge his speedster friend silently with a nod. You think that he would get annoyed by the joking behavior, and to some extent, he did, but frankly, Impulse’s personality is the only light in this dark situation.

“How are things?”

“Kaldur is still trying to convince our new friend to let us go. For how effective that been for the last few days.”

Days? He can only hope it has been days and not weeks.

“I can sense he is conflicted; I can convince him. Perhaps we can even have a new ally.” Aquaman’s sidekick cut in.

“When did you become a telepath?”

“I don’t need to be a telepath to tell when someone isn’t sure they’re on the right side.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see it, buddy-”

He was interrupted when the door opened, the superboy clone once more entering alone. Technically, he wasn’t even supposed to be here if Tim remember correctly. Still, he guesses that Cadmus must be pretty confident of his loyalty because there is yet to be anyone or anything to stop him from visiting.

“Have you considered our offer, Superboy?”

“How do I know you’re not lying.”

“If I had mind-altering capabilities, would I not have tried something by now?”

“You don’t need powers to lie.”

“True, but how can you be sure Cadmus is all that truthful? They control what you learn and know. They placed images into you instead of experiences. How can you trust your home more than you can trust us.”

“They raised me.”

“They made you but hardly raised you. You don’t know how truly the world is. How can you be the defender of the people? A hero worth sharing the legacy of Superman and one day his successor if you stay coped up her.”

“That-”

“You idolize the man of tomorrow, but ask yourself? Would Superman do what you’re doing? Join us, and you can become the man and hero you want to be.”

The two young men stared at each other. Superboy's increasingly angry expression made it clear that his internal conflict had gotten to him. Tim couldn’t help but feel for the guy; even if they were the good guys, they were manipulating someone who was likely younger than they looked by shattering their reality. Of course, that sympathy turns to fear as the clone’s eyes glow red before pointing at Kaldur. Kaldur did not flinch even a little at possible death to the Atlantean's credit.

Rays of heat and power came down and struck down Kaldur’s cuff, breaking them before doing the same with Bart’s and Tim's. Both of them couldn’t help but crack and stretch their wrist. Superboy’s glare didn’t leave his face; however, some conflict still existed, mainly when his eyes focused back on the sea-based hero.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t; your real journey to heroism begins now. “

---

A mature woman expected her jars, each with different contents. The one currently in her hand was a single bizarre-looking crystal. The story behind it was for another to tell; however, as she placed it back, the bell to her front door announced a customer.

“How can I help you, Red X?”

“And here I thought you were blinded, but I suppose someone like you would find a way around it, Madame Xanadu, or should I say Nimue Inwudu?”

“Now that is a name many, especially one outside the world of magic, are aware of.”

“I have my ways.”

“Then I suppose I am part of your little blood-stain crusade?”

“Your sins are too ancient, too vast, and ultimately too unknown for me to judge, and you have been on the path of atonement for lifetimes. You do not need to be a target.”

“So you believe in redemption and atonement, yet you have no shame in denying that same chance to many.”

“Only for those who have pushed away the chance to redeem themselves too many times and are too powerful or dangerous to run rampant in the world.”

“If that is how you see it, it is not my place to judge. I must say your work has brought some peace to this city.”

“It is what it is.”

At least the boy wasn’t that arrogant; she maneuvered her arm to aim at her table. The two walked over and sat down. Now, closer to the man’s presence, Xanadu could read him more closely. She could feel her client's internal strife and conflict despite his mannerisms.

“How can I help you?”

“Tell me the future of my family.”

“That I cannot do that; the event that left me blind was the same that stripped me of most of my powers and will not let me risk interfering directly. Trying to change one’s future never ends well, especially when the future is never as certain as it seems.”

“I do not wish to change the future, only to accept it.”

“When most people make that claim, they usually accept the unknown tomorrow brings.”

“A preview never hurts. So entertain me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I wasted your time, something more valuable than money.”

“Aren’t you a jokester? Very well, I shall discuss what I can.”

She pulled out her tarot card and started working. Red X stared at her in utter silence. While it is true that he was not a regular in the magic community, his experiences with the craziness of the world made the idea of cards being able to tell the future more than possible. It was just finding the right person, not some hack.

The vigilante watched her work her magic before putting her focus back on him. Despite her stoic nature and mastered body language, he could tell she was frightened by what she saw.

So much for good news.

“Well?”

“I have seen the horrors, tragedies, joy, and love that wait for you. You and what you bring frankly terrify me.”What of my family?”

“Your bloodline, vast and ancient it will be. Many will develop to become heroes, and even more will become monsters.“I see…and what can be done?”

“It has already begun; you will bring blight into this world. It is now on you to control exactly how much.”

She lifted one final tarot card for him to view. His gaze sharpened into a glare as destiny made itself clear to him. It was pointless to deny that the reverse tarot card of death stared into his soul before it began burning away in green flames.

Death and decay waited for him, but only forces outside his control would tell him in what form.

---

Shiva stood on the rooftop; her target was no one of particular importance. She was just your standard run of rich fools that another rich fool wanted dead, ever unaware that she would eventually go after them as well once someone else wished to have them dealt with. At least business is always booming, and with the loud rain tonight, it will be an even bigger cakewalk than usual. But alas, the night appeared more eventful than she initially thought.

“Care to explain why you’re bothering me during work.”

Thunder crackles and lightning briefly brighten the shadow in Gotham’s land. They reveal her finest successor and her most significant obstacle. Black Bat, approaching over her, briefly reminds her of Thomas.

“Stay away from him.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll end you.”

Oh, this is just precious.

“Do you think you can protect him?”

“I know I can.”

“Then you are more arrogant than I thought.”

Her target can wait; it is not like she is in a rush.

“I know this feeling you're experiencing well. You may think you and your skills are enough, but they aren’t, and as you currently are, they never will be.”

“What would you know of love?”

“More than you, enough that it does not last. Not because your feelings or those of your lover are fake but because such a feeling is fleeting in our world. Eventually, someone will snuff your shared flame out.”

“Who was he?”

“You had an aunt once, and her name was Carolyn Wu-San, my older sister, my lifeline, my everything. Carolyn was better than me in every way as a sister, woman, and person, and I did not feel jealous of her for it. The only thing I was superior in was being a fighter, which was my downfall.”

“...David”

“He saw I was holding back; she saw my potential as a fighter…and mother. He tore the only light in this world to eventually forge you. You remind me of her somehow; she would be your mother in a better life.”

“But she is not; you are.”

“Sandra is your mother; her last moments before death took her.”

“You are Sandra.”

“I bear that name occasionally, but in the end, I am Shiva. It will remain that way until I breathe my last, and the title will carry on.”

“I will not be your successor.”

“You won’t have a choice, just like I didn’t all those years ago, child. The legacy of Shiva is Carolyn as much as it is your’s and mine. Your very existence is tied to it, and you will strengthen it somehow by killing me and taking my place or dying and thus ending the last of my earthly ties.”

“Do you think this is what she wanted?”

“She is dead, Black Bat, and the world has moved on. Carolyn’s death and continued existence are tied to my title; thus, as long as the title exists, so will she in some form. My legend is her legend; I will not let it die as long as I am on this earth.”

“Then let's end this now. You and me.”

Lightning crackles as, for the first time that night, the mother half of the hostile duo turns to meet her child. She takes after her the most, but it is clear that some part of her father has shined through.

It gives her great joy. Not one of those traits can be linked exclusively to David Cain.

“Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because right now, you are merely being controlled by hatred, but you’re not the kind of person, Black Bat. You do not get your strength from hatred, at least not alone. It is love that controls you. If you genuinely have a chance to finish me for good, it will not be because you want to kill me, no matter how much you believe that, but only because you want to save him.

She walks away from the ledge before approaching her daughter. She is not in the mood to kill, and she doubts her offspring will take her on and cause more trouble than it is worth. She already has his schedule down anyway. He will not survive past noon tomorrow.

“Next time we meet, fate will decide who is more substantial. Someone who has nothing but the memories of their loved one or someone who will do anything to prevent their loved one from being a memory.”

She walked past the vigilante only to be stopped by a single sentence.

“Sandra will reunite with her sister next time.”

Sandra only had one thing to say to that.

“For both our sakes, may you be right, Cassandra.”

---

“Weird suit”

Waller looked you up and down, clearly not impressed by your style. Admittedly, they weren’t the most normal-looking clothes. It looked like regular clothes if one wasn’t focusing on it, but those who had an eye for detail or were paying close attention. They would notice that the clothes looked as if they were a bit damp and slightly moving.

“She is something I have been working on.”

“Breaking into the fashion industry”

“Lord, no, they would eat me alive.”

“At least some common sense is still kicking in your head. She? Let me guess, you named it, too.”

“...”

“The wackjobs I have to deal with.”

“It's okay, Inque; she has no taste.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance as you affectionately patted your shoulder, comforting your experiment. Then, she signaled you to take a seat. Waller was low on the list of people you ever had any level of casual dining with, but life continued to surprise you when she invited you to lunch, only to make sense once she explained why.

“So, just to clarify. I have my old job back.”

“In a way, yes, it's not the same position, but much of what you did will be the same. Progress on making proper countermeasures for Cadmus has been slow, and they believe they know why.”

You stopped eating your lunch. Cadmus needed you, now that a laugh. From as far as you can remember, everyone attached to that project was ultimately expendable. Some certainly more so than others, but ultimately, everyone risked being “dealt with.” You would know, considering you made two assassins to deal with issues like loose ends.

“Am I that important?”

“Apparently, so important you won’t be under my command after this week.”

“For good or just officially.”

“Well, higher-ups may send targets your way; Red X’s work has been more than impressive…too impressive to retire, but they will be the minority of your workload. No, that you ever complain.”

“I admit, it felt good to nab some of these guys. My last catch was a man calling himself the Sewer King, a fitting name if you ask me.”

“I read your report; he was a child slave ringleader. How did you take him out.”

“Same way I took out Boss Biggis: Slowly.”

“Hm, maybe legitimate justice does persist in this world.”

“Before we get any more buddy-buddy, I gotta ask…no blackmail?”

“No blackmail. Consider that my gift to you. Not to mention that interfering with your new work will cause me problems. It's better just to cut you off.”

“...who the hell am I working for, Waller?”

“Lex Luthor for one”

f*ck

“No backsies, eh?”

“You in too deep; the only way you can get out is by climbing ranks, growing so old and weak that they don’t see you as a threat or in a casket.”

“So much for calling in my two-week notice. When do I start, or is that a question I have to ask you, Mr. Luthor?”

If Lex were shocked that you knew his presence, he wouldn’t have acted like it. He walked over and signaled Amanda to take her seat, to which she complied. Say what you want, but the billionaire knew how to control the room. He stared at you with a charming grin, but it didn’t fool you; you were with him enough time, albeit indirectly, to know what he was about. Lex didn’t care about anyone; if there was someone he cared about, it was nowhere near the same amount he cared for himself.

“Suprised”

“A bit. I knew you would be watching as soon as it was mentioned you’re one of my new bosses, but to see you in person? That's new unless, of course, you’re a decoy.”

“I assure you I am very much the real deal, but I suppose it doesn’t matter if you believe me. Now, Amanda, could you give us some space?”Waller didn’t resist the order and merely walked away before turning to you one last time.

“Good luck, kid.”

She turned back and headed through the door. In a moment, it was just you two, and whatever hidden death trap Luthor had created just in case you tried something.

“What a lovely woman she is.”

“You haven’t tried killing her.”

“Indeed, I lack experience in that department, but I have experience in business, and I can tell when someone prefers cutting to the chase.”

“Read me like a book. Do you want more Kyptonians?”

“Oh, we can do so much more, Dr. Harrison; I see potential in you.”

“That so? No offense, but I’m not the best out of anything. You certainly beat me. Intelligence and my unique communication abilities aside, my physical capabilities are not beating the gold standard either.”

“You downplay your capabilities; you beat 95% of baseline human and low-level metahumans in both categories. There is pride in being a jack of all trades, especially when you’re a jack that gets results.”

“This is beyond just lab projects, isn’t it?”

“An associate of mine has been watching you, a relative of yours, though I doubt you would be aware of it. He believes that you have the capability of seeing the light.”

You usually call anyone who claims to be “seeing the light” either dying or crazy, but if Luthor is saying it while being the most hard-on atheist you know with genuine belief, then he must be referring to something big; it's likely still crazy, but there more to it than just that.

“Will I meet them?”

“After a few tests, we may arrange such a meeting, but speaking of lab projects and aliens like Kyptonians, as mentioned before. I have your first assignments.”

He passed you two folders, and you started with the top one.

“More countermeasures?”

“Won’t be too difficult, will it?”

“This is the first time I've played with these types of genetics, but I can manage it. Where did you even get it? You know what, never mind.”

“Yes, it's good not to ask many questions, but let's just say heroes bleed often, and that white Martian invasion not too long ago certainly helps the cause. However, your main objective is the second folder.”

You nodded, placing the first folder aside as you lifted the second one. The title alone sent a slight shiver down your spine, which has not happened for a long time.

Project Doomsday

---

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, Maureen and Ace are being watched by Samantha, and I’m going straight home afterward.”

“How did she take the news you adopted as well?”

“Ironically, she was more mad that I kept her nieces from her than the fact she had nieces.”

“Does she know they’re not only two kids of yours she met?”

“One bombshell at a time.”

“I still don’t like this.”

“I keep you notified daily, but the world still needs Knightfall, especially this city.”

“...I love you.”

“I love you too; never forget that.”

The call ended too soon; it is always too soon. Particularly since now, Cassandra will have a conservation she does not wish to have, especially one in her bedroom.

“Your one phone call is up; time to talk, Cass.”

Oracle, not Barbara, was glaring at her. If anyone could look more intimating after being wheel-bound than before, it was her. She was mad—no, that's not the right word.

Livid would be accurate; her words were calm, but her body language was another story.

“I-”

“No, we are not using handsign; we are using words only.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Does he know?”

“Yes, he figures it out himself, though. I didn’t tell him at first.”

“Thank god for that, at least. Do you have any clue of what he has done?”

“He did not like us; he tells me of his sins.”

“He is an agent of Cadmus, Cass! Do you know what kind of stuff is associated with his name? Cloning and genetic experimenting, he worked under Waller as a hitman more than once. He even connected to Lex Luthor.”

“...”

“Oh god…you know.”

“I am not as ignorant as you believe.”

“Then why didn’t you say something? We have been looking into him for days, and since that, Tim has been gone missing for days now, and you’re just-”

“He has nothing to do with Tim.”

“You don’t know that.”

“More than these baseless accusations. I asked Tools personally before; Steph and I have looked around. Wherever my brother is, I will make whoever took him pay. Maybe Cadmus is involved, but it is not my Tool!”

“Maybe...maybe I am jumping to the conclusion, but you cannot deny he is a suspect.”

“What would you do?”

“Pardon?”

“What will you do to him? Arresting him will not work. Cadmus will bail him out..”

That excuse was hollow, and she knew that the moment the words came out of her mouth. Bats take down criminals even if the law is flawed. Only in rare situations do they let someone go, and Tools, as far as the others knew, did not fit that criteria.

“So we just ignore what he's doing?”

“He should not be our focus at the moment.”

The redhead took off her glasses before sighing. The conservation was going in a different direction than she cared for. Cassandra felt the same way. An impasse was rapidly approaching, and neither would be willing to give an inch.

“He is using you.”

“He not”

“It is if you’re willing to compromise everything you build yourself to be.”

“What do you mean by…you didn’t…”

“Cass, I-”

You were watching!”

“Not everything, but I saw enough.”

“You have no right!”

To say she was livid was an understatement. Those raw emotions were between her and her lover during that training session. Those 24 hours belonged to them and them alone.

“It's not like I am intentionally spying on you two having a moment; you know I was looking into him.”

It was true, she had to admit. She knew they would look into Tools’ life; Tools knew this when he first picked up Oracle. They had underestimated how far Batman's eyes and ears could and would go.

Yet despite it all, Cassandra still felt violated.

“That didn’t give you the right to stay and watch.”

“You were practically killing each other.”

“We are showing how we feel and how we express ourselves.”

“He couldn’t even stand afterward that. If that love, then It's not the healthy kind.”

Cassandra’s fist makes a nice-sized hole in the wall before either party consciously realizes what happened. She removed and examined her still clutched fist, now covered in debris and dust. It was an unfortunate event but a far better alternative than she could’ve otherwise done.

That would’ve been unforgivable.

“What made you certain I wasn’t pretending? That I was telling him what he wanted to hear.”

“You’re not the kind of person, Cassandra.”

“Give me facts, not opinions.”

“You shouldn’t have used the Black Batt suit last night. You know you’re still benched. When I saw you were moving, I had to keep tabs on you, especially after Tim went missing.”

“Shiva, you overhead it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I heard you promising to kill Shiva. That goes against everything we stand for! The others and I could understand if you had to do it in self-defense, even if Bruce may not. Most of us would, but to promise someone death?”

“She is going to kill Tools.”

“We can stop her, you have before.”

“Have I?”

Has she truly ever stopped her mother? She has killed hundreds of people, both directly and indirectly, including Cassandra herself twice. She remembers asking her how many died by her hand by the last time they fought, and the answer was 48.

That was with her direct bare hands alone.

When she asked if Shiva had ever stopped, she got one response.

“That's why I had you.”

She believed she fulfilled that role by killing her in their last actual battle, then hanged her corpse over the Lazarus pit. A compromise where Shiva dies fair and square and no longer holds the burden of being the strongest, and Cassandra can rest easy that the damage she caused to human life was not permanent.

She was foolish.

Her mother is back. What does she do with this second chance? Ruining her chance at redemption by haunting her life again, threatening her loved ones again, and wanting to fight her again! She takes and takes and takes!

The sick part is that she initially accepted that. She believed it was her responsibility to fight Shiva off until the latter died from something else or gave up, and someone would always be after her. Her family has rogue galleries, too; the clown alone is an ever-wearying threat in her adoptive father’s world. She was in China then but remembered Tim's rundown about how the Joker once broke into the cave and successfully defeated them, how he chopped off Alfred’s hand, and how he even tricked Batman and everyone who chopped almost all their faces off.

It was a prank that could’ve been a reality had he felt slightly more sad*stic.

Bruce can live such a life because he IS Batman and always will be, no matter what. His sacrifices to be a symbol cannot be unsaid, but she is not the same despite what she believes. Months ago, she thought that fighting crime would be her life and maybe be the fun daughter, sister, and aunt for her growing family, but now, for once indeed…She wants more, for once. Cassandra wants to be selfish.

She is not Batgirl, not Black Bat, not Knightfall. The mission, for the first time, was not her priority. It wasn’t the first or even the second at the moment. She wanted to live, finish college, and vacation with Tools. She wants to get to know Maureen and Ace more.

She wanted her family with the love of her life.

Love does not come easy with their family; her father’s love life is a mess, and when it is not busy being non-existent, she doesn’t even want to think about Jason’s relationships, lord, even Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Stephanie, had their long rough patches with each other.

She, of all people, had been given the blessing of someone utterly devoted to her.

Someone that her mother wished to take for her selfish goal.

Even if she keeps her away from Tools, what keeps her from sneaking on one of the other members of Wayne's family when their guards are down? What will keep her from taking one of Tools’ family, and what will she do when Shiva goes after Cassandra’s children when the day comes?

There is no world where she lets that assassin touch a hair on her son or daughter.

Is it a crime to end the life of someone who wants to die correction? Is it wrong to end the life of someone who wants to die specifically at your hands and will not stop until either you or they are dead? Meanwhile, they will slaughter countless others until that day arrives, with your family having been and will continue to be in the crossfire. In the past, the answer was easy.

Now, it is still easy, but the answer is entirely different.

She looks deeper into herself, trying to feel if those old emotions and beliefs still exist. She seems far into her past, down to her first murder. The one who made her realize how much she despised death, that traumatic experience she inflicted on that man and herself, but now Cassandra realizes there were no feelings of burden or guilt. At least nowhere near the amount she previously felt.

Without even realizing it, she had forgiven herself. She felt this eternal road of atonement was finally at its end.

Does she even have the right to do so?

“Cassandra?”

“Hm?”

“You zoned out. We are talking about Shiva.”

“If she leaves what belongs to me alone, I will leave her be, but if she persists, if she touches what belongs to me. I will end her.”

“Cass-”

“No more; I will accept the consequences publicly. I will not run from the law. If it means protecting what I love, I will do what must be done without hesitation.”

“What about Bruce? Do you think he’ll just let Black Bat kill? He’ll take you down before that happens.”

“Black Bat will not kill, Batgirl will not kill. Nor will Kasumi or Orphan.”

She gripes her predecessor’s seat before leaning down so her full face can be seen. No mask, no shadows; there is nothing hidden about her intentions.

“Cassandra will end Sandra’s life.”

For this was not murder but a mercy.

Her last gift to her mother.

---

Bruce stared at the massive computer screen filled with data and video footage. These last few days have been some of the most stressful in his life, which was saying something considering his now over a decade-long career of being Batman. Gotham was still in ruins, Arkham’s population was at an all-time low, and now this “Red X” figure was running around taking who knows how many lives.

This situation wasn’t like the Red Hood's old days, though their ideologies were similar. Jason made a name for himself by trying to control crime through fear, just like his father and former mentor. To be what Jason would deem as a superior Batman. Red X was pure killing, plain and straightforward; he would leave the management to everyone else while he was slaughtered.

He didn’t leave a trail or much evidence either; while he was sure this new opponent was behind the massacre at the infamous asylum, there was no footage of him doing the act. Red X wasn’t someone who wanted to be or replace Batman; it was someone who decided that extermination was the best course of action.

“I suspected you would be down here, Master Bruce.”

Alfred, his butler, and his father place a hot plate of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables on the table. Bruce hasn’t realized how hungry he is despite what others, including himself, occasionally believe. Batman wasn’t perfect, and sometimes, he needed his own Batman.

A role Alfred has always been willing to fill.

“Have you concluded who our mysterious Red X might be?”

“There are still other possibilities, but the answer is clear.”

An image of a young man he met not long ago pops up. It is still hard to imagine that such a person would have a massive effect on his city in less than a year. He came off as more of a thinker than a fighter. Had Bruce not long since learned that appearances can be deceiving, he would still have his doubts.

“Young Dr. Harrison, what a shame. Miss Cassandra will not be pleased.”

“Hm”

“Penny, for your thoughts.”

“I can’t help but feel like I failed him, Alfred.”

“Because he likes you, sir?”

“Yes, but more of Dick.”

The parallels were undoubtedly there, with both losing their parents to criminals and orphans being the biggest ones; what differs from Bruce’s loss is they knew who killed their parents immediately. Bruce didn’t learn about Joe Chill until years later. Thus, his vengeance was directed at crime in general for justice. Knowing the ones who killed their loved ones allowed Dick and Dr. Harrison to develop a desire for revenge—a path the former avoided through Robin, something that could not be said the same as the latter.

However, Bruce also took serious note of the villain’s drive. Even with the face behind that mask, Bruce could see the determination behind X’s eyes to do what was right. He couldn’t help but fear that the one underneath Red X’s mask was his eldest in one or more universes.

“I feel like I could’ve saved him. What he could do on the right side of the law.”

“You cannot be there for every child’s lowest point, Master Bruce. Unfortunately, he fell down the path he did, but it was ultimately his to take.”

“What do you feel about him.”

“What do I think of him?

Alfred is hardly a villain, but Bruce knows his surrogate father was killed before. Granted, he was in a much different situation as an ex-soldier and member of the special forces, but he still had to ask.

“I sympathize with him, I must admit, sir, knowing that some villains will no longer haunt Gotham and my family, but what he did is unjustifiable. I will sleep easier thanks to his actions, but I cannot condone them. In the long run, it will just cause more pain.”

“You believe that?”

“You do not haven’t doubts now, are you?”

“No, but between him and Jason…”

“Sir, if I am allowed to be honest, their actions will not end crime. I think both know and even acknowledge that. I believe only your cause will end Gotham’s reputation; crime will always exist, but we will no longer be deemed the most crime-filled city in the world. Jason would only make crime controllable but apparent, and Red X, why I fear he is a forefather of something even more sinister.

“Which to you would be?”

“The end of an era, sir…and the beginning of a new, far more dangerous one.”

---

“f*ckin’ speedsters”

You groan in annoyance at the test sample while not as a pain in the ass as a particular alien species. DNA from various “Speed Force” users was an annoyance in its own right. The reasoning behind their speed was beyond modern science. This force they summoned to move faster was, pardon your French bullsh*t. You’ll crack it, but you'll have tons of self-induced homework.

Project Inertia is going to be a bitch.

You would think the Martian DNA would be the more difficult choice, but its malleability kept it from your sh*t list. All one needed was the right tools, and it became literal puddy in your hands. You might also incorporate some of your genetics into this. A little metahuman DNA you were familiar with always helped. They were your kids anyway, so you could make it official genetically.

A trademark, if you will.

You still need to look through the Domesday project thoroughly. There was some omen that you felt every time you touched it. Once you started it, you unleashed something fitting of its namesake.

That is saying something, considering you spawned Galatea. Nevertheless, you would have to see your part through. It's just going to be like your son. It's not like you had to raise and nurture this; Luthor said Amanda and others will handle the “programming” of the subject.

Your hopes aren’t high.

Your foreboding thoughts came to an end when your phone began to ring. Probably, Cassandra, you did promise to keep her updated daily. It's hard to stay away, after all. Perhaps such obsessive emotions and feelings with one another weren’t okay.

You quickly picked up your phone, but before you could even get your voice in, another responded—one distinctively masculine and certainly not your soul mate.

“Good evening, doctor.”

“Who do I owe the pleasure to?”

Very few people know your phone number, and you’re pretty confident even fewer know said phone number without your knowledge. This caller was not someone you felt like pissing off.

“Polite, good, it will get you far in this life. I would know; I lived quite the long and eventful one.”

“I can only hope to do the same, but how can I help you?”

“You have already been helping me so much that I think we can advance our partnership when the time is right.”

“Are you one of my new direct employers?”

“You can address me as V.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but Luthor mentioned one of you is my relative. Are you…”

“Related? Yes, if you believe it or not, but that shouldn’t be your concern. Your life is in danger, and it is essential for the both of us that you live to see another day, don’t you agree.”

“That is preferable.”

“It's good that you listened carefully. Cobblepot wasn’t particularly happy with how your last conflict went, so he hired a few assassins to fix that embarrassment for you and your family. Unfortunately for him, I had my contacts assassinate all but one before they were out the door.

“That last one's job is meant to kill me directly. This assassin is part of the test.”

“You catch on. Please don’t bother the teleporters; I can’t let you escape the test that easily. They won’t work, and I know for a fact that you lack your Red X suit. Deal with the assassin, and you will pass, but I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fail. Happy hunting.”

The line went dead before you could ask any further questions. You grunted in pain, accepting that life had a personal grudge against you. You’re beginning to wonder what even the point of a secret identity is. Lord knows that plenty of people are after your civilian identity, hell there are probably more people after the Harrison persona than Kingslayer and Red X combined.

Your girlfriend will watch you like a hawk after this, will she?

You hung up your lab coat and took the elevator; there was no point hiding. Either the assassin breaks in, possibly finding valuable Cadmus research, or V will find a way to force you out for this test. Neither sounds appealing, if you’re going to be honest. This build was still a front for your organization, and you would like to keep it that way. You stared at the number going up to the main floor like it was some demented countdown.

The doors slid open, and now it has become a simple matter of when. You feign ignorance as you walk down the hallways, occasionally turning to get closer to the exit. However, your hope to at least get to the parking lot was quickly squished as the lights went out, and you found yourself surrounded by pitch darkness. Adrenaline was kicking in, and you must admit, you were beginning to like a good fight.

If you go down, at least it will be going down swinging.

You stood in darkness, relying on your other senses while waiting for the first strike. When you did, it barely missed, which was a good thing, considering the sound it made through the air implied it was a bladed weapon. Using the open, you landed a successful blow to what you presumed was your assailant’s masked face.

The emergency lights finally kicked in, and you finally got a half-decent look at your target. Their most notable traits were their piercing white eyes and razor-shaped blades, seemingly in place of their right hand, as smoke began to surround them. Now, it was clear exactly who they were.

The Phantasm was your opponent.

“Doctor…” The infamous assassin and former vigilante lifted their bladed arm to point at you, making their lethal intentions ever more apparent.

“Your angel of death awaits.”

Chapter 10: Joy Division

Chapter Text

5:00 minutes before the Last Laugh

Dick sighed as he looked at the endless traffic that awaited on his way towards Gotham City. Truthfully, he would’ve used a more private method of travel, but he and Barbara agreed that the twins should get used to more mundane methods of travel beyond private jets, flying, or teleportation.

“Are we there yet, Daddy?” Mar’i asked innocently; John was too busy on his switch to make such comments. Lord, have they both grown up that fast? He remembered when they were just born.

Kori…if only you were here, no one should grow up without a kind mother, and Kori would’ve been amongst the kindest. Dick wasn’t suicidal by any means, but if he was able to choose between himself and her. Well, that answer would’ve been obvious.

“Daddy?”

The famous vigilante snapped back into reality. Right now was not the time for remembrance and regret, especially on a highway with kids, even if they had enhanced durability.

“Yeah, sweetheart, we’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

“Are we going to see Grandpa?”

“I’ll drag him out if I must,” Dick chuckled; the fact of the matter is it won’t take much to get the stubborn man out from his cave as long as it before patrol. The man can be as stubborn as a rock and have the movable personality of an anchor when it comes to everyone, even his kid. However, the man’s cold persona suddenly shatters like glass once you get his grandchildren involved.

Between Tim’s disappearance, Cassandra’s increased independence thanks to her exile from Black Bat, and Bruce and Jason’s still wounded if recovering relationship. Dick was personally hoping this was exactly what his dad needed. It was terrible news for everyone, especially for the family when Bruce was left alone with his thoughts in times like these. Alfred did his best, but there was only so much he could do alone for his surrogate son.

Honestly, Dick himself was barely holding it together; he and the Titans were looking for not only Robin but Aqualad and Impulse, and so far no dice. He knew Tempest, especially Wally, was frustrated about the lack of progress.

Frustrations that were not helped by this godforsaken traffic. So much for arriving in Gotham in 15 minutes.

For Dick knew it was not a star that promised wishes for his home.

Only death
---
45:00 before The Last Laugh

Galaeta dropped her latest corpse; some jackass believed he could leak documents so subtly that, honestly, he thought he was hot sh*t enough not to be noticed.

She always annoyed her about these humans; so many believed they were some main character of a story and that they mattered in the grand scheme of things. It was not that they were utterly useless; in fact, a few were vital, such as her father. Only some people can have the potential to bring something as great as her into existence.

It's just frustrating how many overestimate themselves. The fact they continue to think they have any actual power over her was trying her last strings of patience.

Her thoughts of superiority were interrupted as ringing ran through her ear.

“Hello?”

“Superboy has escaped.”

That got her blood pumping; Luthor’s kid and her sort of brother got the balls to do something than laze around the damn lab. Color her almost surprised, but more importantly, what it meant for her: a person who won’t go down in one proper blow.

“Want me to shut him down.”

“Do not kill him, but yes.”

“Joy killer”

“Don’t get upset yet, Galaeta; you can’t kill Superboy, but that doesn’t mean you’re not on assassin duty.”Oh

“You saying he has friends?”

“Confirmed: He has the assistance of Impulse, Aqualad, and Robin. All three have been labeled disposable. Do not let them live to see another day if possible.”

Well, that changes everything: time to greet her brother and establish to him the family hierarchy.
---
35:00 before The Last Laugh

“Okay, you made your point.” The redhead tried to make clear to her successor. To Cass’ credit, they seemed to realize how far they had gone, quickly releasing themselves from Oracle's chair.

“Sorry,” Cass admitted genuinely. She didn’t mean to get that extreme or that physical. It appears that stress has brought her more than Cassandra initially thought. It has been feeling that way more often now that she believes about it. She has been flipping more on the dime than she cares to admit.

“It…it okay, Cass, I just want to help. I don’t blame you for wanting to protect him.”

Not to mention, she would be lying if she said she wouldn’t do the same for Dick and their children, Batman’s rule be damned. If she had to choose her saving husband from someone like Shiva with a loaded gun, well, that person getting preferably be crippled at best, and few tears would be shed if it got any further than that.

“Have you told Bruce yet?”

“Not yet, not that it matters. You don’t think Bruce realizes something is up. He likely already deduced his identity or rather identities.”

“Hn”

“You want him to go easy; you should talk to him. I know you care for Tools Cass, but everyone only sees his neutral side at best or his bad side at worst. You don’t just kill multiple people and walk away even if they were all psychos and murderers.”

“I…” Cass tried to answer, but whatever answer she was about to give was interrupted by a piercing headache followed by nausea running through her skull, forcing her to take a seat in her bed. Barbara, not oracle, rolled instantly to her side, argument or no argument. Family doesn’t let family suffer.

“What's wrong?”

“Sick”

“For how long?”

Cass's sheepish look was all she needed to know that it had been at least a few days. Damn Waynes, always ignoring their health until the worst of times. She pats her former apprentice’s back as she moves a basket closer, just in case.

“Any other symptoms? You’re not one to catch the common cold.”

“Cramps mainly”

“...Cassandra, this is very important; how long have you and Tools been…active since that time in the training room?”

"Since three weeks? A lot”

“Cass”

“Nearly every day”

Then suddenly, a lot of things in the world make sense.

“I am going to have you take a crucial test.”
---
55:00 minutes before The Last Laugh

For the first time in a long time, Joker wasn’t laughing or smiling despite his successful escape and a few added bodies to his kill count. For once, he just wasn’t in the mood for laughter.

He is finally facing the end, the curtains, the edge of the ole clown road reaching its final stop. So much needed to be done, and unfortunately, the road was ending. He must go with a bang, something that could leave his mark in the world. Hell, he couldn’t even get the dignity to walk correctly; some party pooper felt the need to get the Barbara Gordon treatment. If Joker believed in blessings, he considered that he could walk at all, which is a miracle.

He managed to pull while walking with a cane; he can do it one last time.

After all, he pulled all the stops this time; the show is never over as long as he still breathed, and if anyone were going to choose the end credits, it would be him! Not some wannabe sniper, not some failed boy bunder, and certainly no unfortunate disease. Despite what the world may think, he was an architect who saw the bigger picture by acknowledging there was no bigger picture.

How many people have he killed? He can’t remember some days; other times, he can count to the exact number. Did it matter? Nothing was done anyway? They were just pieces to the game.

It was a game that he had to finish by whatever means. He had given Bats all the time in the world to either kill him or die, but the rules had changed; he was on a deadline, and it was time to accelerate things. It was honestly a shame, too. There were a few ideas he wanted to at least return to, such as the smiling fish heist or the revenge of Captain Clown.

Rest in peace, his robotic soul.

“B-boss”

Joker turns to see his cowardly subordinate as if the clown prince of crime’s glare would be enough to kill him. In the good ole days, Henchmen never had to deal with such fearful men compared to the present.

Granted, that was before he was known for his horrifying yet comical tendencies in executing them.

“Yes”

“Just got a call back from the fellas. Everything was supposed to be boss.”

“Everywhere? Daily Planet?”

“Correct”

“Elliot Memorial Hospital?”

“Affirmative”

“Flash Museum?”

“Across the street.”

“Even little Susie’s home down the lane?”

“Not sure why you want their boss, but yes-”

The man didn’t get to finish as a bullet from his superior’s pistol rammed into the wall, inches away from his face. The murderous jester was not in the mood to be questioned; this was his special day. At the same time, the idiot being alive would mean one more tainted soul causing mayhem in his name today, so in a rare show of self-restraint, the clown chooses mercy.

“Care to question my decisions again?”

“N-no sir, my curiosity got the better of me.”

“It's alright; your tiny brain cannot possibly comprehend what tonight will mean. The level of devastation I earned. When I’m done, the world will fear my name for generations.”

“S-so the plan has more than just the gas?”

Oh, now that is a question worth answering.

“My good friend, when you have many favors and a reputation like me? You know a lot of people, a lot of people with certain toys and skills. I assure you, my friend, that Joker Gas I had you bozos driving around is a vital but ultimately infinitesimal part of this grand finale. Now, excuse me…I have another task to fulfill before we paint the world red and green!

Like an excited child on Christmas morning before grabbing a trusty shotty and a classy revolver for the road. He had a few essential items on his bucket list to finish before the main show, and that was finishing his birthday.

He still had a few presents he never got to open.
---
40:00 minutes before The Last Laugh

“I suppose we can’t rain check this fight; I got places to be?”

Your attempts of humor were met with unheard ears as you were forced to dodge the assassin repeatedly as they attempted to cut you down. The razor-sharp blade promised pain, if not death, if it got a successful blow on anything, even semi-important. This location was not the place you wanted to die in.

You needed to take this outside, in a tight place like this. The lack of gadgets or decent protective clothing meant being this close. That fact, however, didn’t mean you were ready to ditch your job location yet. V might’ve been right about you not keeping your costume here.

That didn’t mean you didn’t have spares around.

“Give up, doctor; this is your end.”

“If I go, lady, it will not be under Copplepot order.”

She faltered slightly from your acknowledgment of her gender, a fact most don’t know, and even fewer live to tell about it. Unfortunately for her, months of Shiva’s training have allowed you to take advantage of even the tiniest misstep as you roundhouse kicked the assassin away before dashing ahead.

That wasn’t going to keep her down, and it was most certainly going to piss her off.

She didn’t stay down either; looking back briefly was a death sentence. You could already see her footsteps trying to catch up. You didn’t wait a moment longer the second when your public office. You are glad you have forgotten to lock up for once as you practically rip the door open before slamming it shut and locking it. It won’t hold The Phantasm back, but you were feeling petty.

You pulled your desk apart, seeing what valuable gadgets or items were there. There wasn’t much besides some prototype armwear and a mask, but anything was better than nothing at the moment. When the door was kicked off its hinges, you barely finished putting on the headwear. The Phantasm stepped inside; you looked back at her and then the window.

“Running will not save you, doctor.’

“Jumping will” was your snide remark as you dived out the window, glass flying to the ground with you. Indeed, this was among your most intelligent decisions; let's hope this works.

“Inque, Dad would appreciate it if you could prevent him from being a bloodstain.”

Your arms began moving on their own before aiming at one of Gotham’s many buildings before an ink-like substance shot from your clothes’ wrist, which allowed you to pull a Spider-Man; you swung just high enough to catch the ledge of the skyscraper before climbing to the ceiling proper.

Perfect

You weren’t alone for much longer; you watched your target glide from her location and land across from you with far more grace than your escapade.

“Still determined to run?”

“No, I think this is the right place for us. I didn’t want cameras catching this when we showed you just how bad of a mistake you made tonight.”

“You are alone.”

“Oh Andrea, I am many things, but alone isn’t one of them.”

Your shirt and Jacket, or rather what was assumed to be said articles of clothing, began to turn into liquid and drift off your being, revealing your skintight black sh*t. You both watched the blob gather together before shifting and forming into that of a teenage girl colored in different shades of blue with a smirk on her face.

“Meet Inque, my daughter.”

“You are even more deranged than I thought, doctor.”

“Says the assassin with daddy issues.”

Your latest child turned towards you. It was clear she was eager, and you couldn’t blame her. She was a more private creation that wasn’t commissioned by your job. This was the first time she could show what she made of.

“How do you want her dead, father?”

“In pieces”

Inque laughed before shooting out her hands that enlarged and splintered off into dozens upon dozens of blades that promised death to the assassin.
---
“It appears Miss Beaumont has bitten more than she can chew,” Alfred replied dryly to the scene.

“I’ll stop both of them,” the Dark Knight said, putting on his mask and attaching his utility belt. Today was not going to be fun. If this foe were anything like Clayface, it would likely get dirty figuratively and literally.

“Do you have anything that can hurt this young lady?”

“Let's just say my last fight with Mister Freeze has inspired me,” Batman answered, revealing some advanced types of white-colored grenades.

“It will stop her in her tracks.”

“Be careful, Master Bruce. I hate to see what it can do to someone who can’t walk or is frozen solid.”

The hero of Gotham nodded before heading for his vehicle. Usually, he would get Robin involved in patrol, but this was personal. He didn’t think his youngest would exactly get everyone calmed down.

Alfred watches his son drive off into the night. Despite watching such an activity countless nights, he cannot help but worry. The universe and whoever controls it has taken so much from his young ward, and he cannot help but feel that tonight.

It will take again from his family.
---
3:00 minutes before The Last Laugh

“Peter slowed down,” Mary said to her son, who seemed determined to race down each sidewalk as if he depended on it. Her little boy was always a runner, and her husband Richard could only laugh at the sight.

“Stop laughing, Rich, you’re encouraging him.”

“He's full of energy, Mary; you know he's been eager to see his uncle, and hey, it's not every day you get to the Daily Planet. Isn’t that right, son?”

The boy rapidly nodded before running ahead more. Rich smiled at his wife, looking for approval, only to face an unimpressed frown.

“Always have to be the fun parent, don’t you?” Mary snarked back, but her eventual smile showed how she felt. Damn, her husband and his charm. At the very least, her son knew to wait for them before crossing the street. It wasn’t long before they were at the entrance of the massive building where a familiar man was standing.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He looked at Rich

“Love you too, Jackass,” The younger man replied before hugging, it's been too long since he saw his brother Ben and he came to miss the old bastard.

“Thank you again, Ben, for watching Peter. Are you sure you and May are still okay with watching him for the night?” Mary asked

“Please, he is practically our son, as he is yours as far as May is concerned. You two enjoy yourselves; all that traveling can’t be good for you. I’ll finish business and get your boy home safe and sound in no time,” Ben replied.

“None of your bosses will mind a kid, right?”

“Peter is a nice kid, so I doubt I’ll get any complaints, and Jameson won’t mind him for a few hours. He loves kids.”

“Jameson still works here? I thought he left.”

“He is just waiting for the right time; his words are not mine. Now shoo, let a man spend time with his favorite nephew.”

“I’m your only nephew, Uncle Ben.’ The little boy pointed out.

“Which makes you my favorite by default; now come on, squirt.”

“Bye, Mom, bye, Dad. Love you.”

“We love you too.”

“Love ya, Peter, now give your uncle a tough time for me now.”

“Hey”

“I earned it, you and your responsibility speeches.”

Ben merely shook his head before opening the door after Peter gave his parents two big hugs, ran inside, and headed in himself. The husband and wife had some proper alone time for the first time in nine months.

“Now the true fun can begin.”

“Keep it in your pants; you won’t cave me in that easily. We just had Teresa.”

“Who is busy with your parents? Pete is with his uncle, and I have you,” her husband responded as he hugged her.

“The least you could do is purchase me a drink, young man.”

“You will be my commend queen.”

“Stop it, you.”

“Heh, I love you, Mary.”

“And I love you as well, Richard.”

They leaned in to kiss each other, and the moment their lips met, a light consumed them, and soon Mary’s world was consumed with blindness and pain. When she became aware again, the air was a sickly green filled with screaming and laughter. She tried to scream as she lay next to her husband’s corpse, but only chuckles could escape her broken form.

As sweet death finally comes for her, Mary can only pray she’ll see her husband on the other side.

And that her children can forgive their parents for leaving them.
----
Credit where credit was due, Phantasm didn’t go down without a swing. She used all the tricks in the boat, from her smoke to her blade, and she used quite impressive agility to judge. Her only mistake, in the end, was that she was human, a very unprepared human, to be exact.

Everything Inque was not, a fact she took pleasure in when she finally caught the assassin in her arms, entombed, and reduced to a plaything for her to slowly crush her.

“Inque, don’t stretch this out, pun intended.”

She silently nodded, enhancing the strength of her grip; she was about to pop this annoyance like a zit to get rid of this pest once and for all. Fate had a different path when her stretched arms were frozen solid, causing her to drop her opponent as they fell off and shatter.

“Every f*cking time,” X groaned as he saw an all too familiar bat-shaped figure descend to the rooftop. Gotham’s number one rodent has arrived and stuck his nose in business that does not concern him.

“I didn’t need your help,” Phantasm muttered to her old flame.

“I’ll deal with you later,” was his only response before turning to his latest villain.

“That's enough, Red X.”

“Oh wow, you can tell it's me even with this prototype mask. Nice work, detective. Now, if you could move aside so I can have one last person after my life, I would appreciate it.”

“I’m taking down both of you.” The caped crusader claimed.

“Very funny, but unlike you, I got a family I got to attend than playing dress-up fighting with a grown ass man.”

“Do I kill him, Dad?” Inque interrupted

“I'd rather you not.” You tried pursuing her, though it was clear she was getting eager to add another person to her kill count. You were already asking your girlfriend a lot, but overlooking this job, you don’t want to test her limits.

“No one is killing anyone tonight.”

“Buddy, you and I both know that bullsh*t; she’ll wait until the opening is right?”

Your question was met with silence; it was clear that neither party was particularly standing down. Why does this always end with a fight? You missed the days when you didn’t have a 6 '2 martial artist who built like a linebacker after your ass.

f*ck Gotham

Inque, in her inexperience and youth, struck first, refocusing on Phantasm as intended, only to be forced back as Batman threw another freeze grenade. Not to stand around and let your kid be frozen, you got yourself involved in combat as you two began matching fists and kicks.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Turn yourself in, and I might consider.”

The caped crusader jumped back and threw some batarangs of the explosive variety, forcing you to move fast and miss being blown up as smoke filled your half of the battlefield while dazing you still. Seeing an opening for a kill, Phantasm switched her dodging Inque’s blows to splatter her as she gunned for you.

You had enough time to recover before she could commit any lethal damage, but you grunted slightly as her blade arm carved through your shirt and cut through your chest. You responded to her gift by activating your armored arms and blasting her with an X-shaped energy construct right in the direction of Inque, but before you could join her, a hand pulled you back and socked you across the face, causing you to stumble.

It took all your training and concentration to dodge while the world became fuzzy. Anything harder, and you might’ve been knocked out right then and there. Your confused expression turned to anger as your bearings re-adjusted.

“Why are you this persistent? Did you two have a thing or something?”

“No one has to die; let me take her in. You're making a mistake.”

“Yeah, because that process has worked out for you, but go ahead. If we are lucky, we have another Arkham Massacre!”

You both tied punch to punch. The fact of the matter is that ever since the moment you fought this guy, you've been learning. One of the perks of being able to read the body is that Batman may know a million-something martial arts, but he is still human.

Humans had favorite techniques, and they had habits, all of which you learned to capitalize and counter. When the day comes that you finally overcome him, you will personally throw a party. Hell, you might even invite Bruce himself to rub it in.

Your thoughts of glory temporarily evaporated as you received a vicious headbutt, which you politely returned in kind with just as much force. Before either of you could further kick the crap out of each other, you both were interrupted by a massive green light in the distance.
You both paused and stared in horror at the destruction that couldn’t be any less than a nuke going off in the location of Bludhaven. Even as far as here, you could already see the damage as the cities’ most prominent buildings began to be consumed in the explosion. You turned to your opponent, whose mouth echoed one silent word.

Dick

You both were brought back to the moment as a rageful roar caused you two to turn around. Inquel had enough, once having Phantasm in her grip, and began smashing her across the area. You watched as Bats went for those grenades again.

Not on your watch.

You tackle him, fighting for the device before he can freeze your fighting partner. The struggle between you two over the weapon caused it to slip out of both your reaches as it flung to the ground. You two didn’t even look at each other as you darted for it.

Only for one of Inque’s tentacles to grab it instead; she looked at the device with mock interest before turning to Batman. Her smirk gave the expression that her intentions were anything but pure.

“Nice toy; wonder how effective it would be against someone more…mortal?”

She tosses the device onto Phantasm before dropping her. Before the assassin can do anything, she is frozen into a human popsicle. Bruce, yes, Bruce, not Batman, rushes past you to save his former love interest.

Inque would have none of that.

She reduced herself to almost a pure liquid state before wrapping around Phantasm’s frozen form and beginning to squeeze with all her might; this was her victory and her kill; she would not be denied her father’s approval.

The human ice sculpture was shattered before you or Bruce could say anything.

“Andrea!” Bruce shouted.

As if his emotions were personified in nature, rumbling started like an earthquake. You could hear multiple explosions going off, one being a bridge out of the city, and no doubt in your head, other bridges were being taken out.

It was hardly just the bridges, however. You could hear more detonations throughout Gotham, some close and others far away. The horror kicked in as you listened to the sound of water blasting.

Looking down below, you watched water floods consume the masses below.
----
The Last Laugh

The explosions were severe, without mercy, and most of all, instant.

James Hall, age 10, was at West Mercy Hospital, and his mother and father worked overtime to pay for his surgery and could not visit often. When he delivered a stuffed toy, he assumed it was from one of his parents’ many supportive co-workers and hugged it with all his might. His proximity to the blast concluded his death was painless.

Mary Bell Watson, age 16, at Metropolis General Hospital, recovering from her run with cancer when her mother came in with a stuffed toy. When she was about to ask if it was from her boyfriend, she was immediately engulfed in the blast that left her half blind, deaf, and fatally wounded by her only family’s corpse. Watson wondered if she was in hell, and as she felt the building about to crumble above her, she laughed.

She concluded God enjoyed her tears, and she dared not give him one more.

Lorenzo Agramonte, age 32, St. Mary's Children's Hospital, survived the initial explosion; he was visiting his son Juan, age 4, who was recovering from broken legs from a bad car accident with a drunk driver. When the explosion set off before could end the door, Lorenzo couldn’t accept seeing his pride and joy’s body being mutilated and calmly jumped out the window to meet the cold, hard ground ten stories away.

Rosa Hattison, 96, Arkham Hospital. She was tortured by her mental demons all her life, and in her final moment of regained sanity, she saw someone cared enough to leave a stuffed toy. She died from natural causes before detonation.

Her final thought was finally feeling loved, something she had been denied for decades.

These were just a short profile of a tiny group of people of the countless that were suffering and dying from these attacks, and these attacks themselves were only a tiny portion of the hell that Joker had throughout the world.

Well, not hell, that would be inaccurate. The more accurate term would be war. For hell, at least there is no innocent in the crossfire.

This bloodbath was nothing but the innocent. These actions were a war against good, sacred, and all decent things. Rain poured down that unleashed Joker venom on city-wide scales, and countless villains and criminals throughout the globe were Jokerized to spread mayhem in his name. One could not forget the nukes and other types of mass-range attacks.

Some were lucky; Lois Lane, holding a wounded Jimmy Oslen, watched her husband rise and toss the weapon that would’ve destroyed their home, preventing one major injustice in defiance of the countless he must be forced to hear going off worldwide. Wally West and Barry Allen’s efforts allowed them to dismantle their bombs just in time, saving Central City.

Bludhaven, Port City, and Jump City were among the less lucky.

Of course, despite all Joker’s efforts, his big finale wasn’t the main attraction for everyone but a smokescreen and sign for others to further their own. Some for petty crimes against the less fortunate or vengeance, others are beginning to carry their plans to affect the world, and for a confident woman who gazed at the destruction below her, that the universe had changed its mind and the time to act was now.

She had an apprentice to kill

Few remained ignorant briefly, of course, even in Gotham. The imminent destruction hasn’t reached those who lived on the city's edges yet. The key word is yet; in the Harrison family home, Samatha Harrison is putting her daughter to rest as she and Markus are about to turn themselves in.

“You make a good mom, Sam.”

“Only with your assistance, Markus, how Tools manage to raise children, much less powered children, is beyond me.”

“Hey, I got experience with my rugrats, and your brother is well…your brother. I love him like my son, but his standards and thought process are on his own wavelength.”

“Heh, I guess so.” She laughs before shivering slightly.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, still…shellshock, I guess.”

“You were held hostage by a lunatic, Sam, a lunatic someone should’ve offed a long time ago, as far as I’m concerned. Sure you don’t wanna hit the hay?”

“No, I'd rather not confront my nightmares, and I feel the most comforted when everyone gets home.”

She was tired of losing relatives, the family she never got around to bonding with before it was too late, and now, when Samatha finally did not take her blood ties for granted, the woman ran into a near-death experience, and supposedly, her younger brother had run into multiple near-death experiences she was utterly unaware of.

What if he had died before they began bonding?

“Sam?”

“Sorry, lost in thought; you know we began saying love you at the end of our calls; we never did that before. That's normal right.”

“Every family is a little different; some people say it but don’t mean it, others don’t say it, but their actions more than prove they do love each other, but I approve.”

“You do?”

“You never know when the last time you’ll see someone, kid. Reaffirming never hurts, even if they know what you will tell them. The last time I talked to my baby sister, we jokingly insulted each other; it was our way of showing affection.”

The bulky man chuckles before sighing.

“I knew she was aware she was loved. I know I couldn’t have predicted she would end up in such a situation, yet I wish the last thing we said to eachother weren’t jokes. I wish I said more and did more.”

“Markus”

“No need being a shoulder to cry on, Sam; I made peace with it even if I’m not happy about it.”

“Markus…do you believe there is something beyond death.”

“I think there could be. I don’t know the requirements, and maybe there is more than one place we can end up in, but between the stuff that comes straight from sci-fi, magic, metahumans, and aliens. Could something beyond this mortal coil sound that ridiculous? I suppose it may be a matter of belief.”

“Belief?”

“Some people…just want nothing more of their current existence, some believe in reincarnation, which is your soul or whatever be erased and set back to this or somewhere else, so you, not you at that point, and then others believe in nothing, some…find comfort in oblivion, weird as that may sound to some. What with the deep question, kid?”

“I think about all my missed moments and wish if there will ever be a time to make up for it.”

“The best thing I learned is Sam, do what you can now. Lot less baggage when it time for the next.”

“Wise words, I suppose. I desperately want to turn back the clock, yet I can’t suppose I can forget my presence here.”

She looks at her sleep, pride, and joy; perhaps she had not brought Alice, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t less thankful to have the child in her life.

“I was considering…asking Tools to quit his job.”

“You want his workaholic ass to retire.”

“No, of course not, but I don’t know what this Cadmus’ business is all about, but if they have him clone aliens and adopt metahumans, it can’t be safe. What if he gets hurt again?”

“We could all die horribly in a car crash. Can’t let what-ifs plague you.”

“Yes, but the likelihood would be lowered if he worked back here with the company. He could visit more; he could even bring Linda and Karen. I’m sure we could easily slip them into the family publicly without anyone batting too much of an eye.”

Despite her fantasizing, she could tell the older man didn’t share her optimism.

“Jobs like that, that not something you can just quit San, not without trusting him or putting a bullet in his skull.”

“It's just a thought. If anyone can figure it out, it's Tools.”

Before Markus could interject, the doorbell rang; he got up, ready to tell the bozo to f*ck off, when Sam silently pushed him back down. He looked at her with confusion, but she merely smiled.

“It is probably another interviewer,”

“All the more reason to make 'em scram.”

“I can handle it, tough guy; enjoy your drink.”

“Let me believe I’m still doing my job here. I’ll handle it.”

“Fine, big guy.”

She watched him amusingly as Markus pulled his big tough guy act, and he walked over to the door and opened it only for him to be flung back forward with a loud sound of gunfire that burned through her eardrum and began causing her baby to cry, awaken from her nap.

“Honey, I’m home.” the sinister voice mocked as the assailant revealed it from the night belonged to a too-familiar pale white monster in human clothing. Samantha instinctively got between the attacker and her child's crib. The man of the nightmare has returned and has come back to finish her off.

“What do you want?”

“Unfinished business baby! I can’t let my second-last score go with failure. Consider this your gift present.” The clown josted.

“Please, you don’t need to do this!”

“You’re right…I want to do this. Consider this your gift basket.”

Bullets ripped into the poor girl's chest; she flopped against the ground, unable to move in any notable way that mattered. She knows her oppressor stands over her, but she will not give him the satisfaction of fear and anger. She sees the heavily wounded Markus trying to talk to her, but she can't understand him. She knows what he is trying to say.

Live

The one thing she can’t do, all she can do, is give thanks as she feels cold metal press against her neck.

“Tell him”

She whispers

“Tell Tools, I thank him…for loving me.”

A shot rings out, and a Harrison is removed from this world.
---
10:00 minutes into The Last Laugh

Barbara rushed down into the cave as fast as her damn chair could allow her. The only reason she hasn’t shot out of her seat and begun crawling is that her fiance was able to confirm he and their kids were alive. They got out of the city less than an hour before whatever the hell was going on began.

“Alfred!” She called

“I have already begun setting up the computer for you, Mrs. Gordon,” the butler said gloomily. That meant the casualties were higher than she initially thought.

“Any notable casualties?”

“Master Jason, Damian, and Duke remain active; Miss Brown had a close encounter with one of the explosions, but otherwise, she is fine. She should be joining the field shortly once an opening is found. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Mr. Fox, Miss Row…and one confirmed deceased”

“No, that would, not Kate, please Alfred not. Batwoman wouldn’t-”

“She never got the chance to become Batwoman tonight, Mrs. Gordon. Kate and her father were caught in the blast. There were no survivors.”

She takes a moment to grieve and can only imagine how devastating this is for Bruce. Yes, he and Kate conflicted more than once on how to handle heroism and had different beliefs about life in general, but she was family and more than just blood. Yes, they experienced loss before, Jason, Bruce for a bit, and even Alfred fell to Bane once early in Bruce’s career. The fear never lessens, of course.

For one never knows when someone is gone for good.

She quickly wiped her brief tears. The pain didn’t lessen for a second, but she had a job to do, and she knew her dead sister-in-arms wouldn’t want them tearing from her loss when there were lives to be saved.

“We will get through this, Mrs. Gordon,” Alfred spoke in his grandfatherly tone. He was right; they had been through horrible situations before, from alien invasions to oppressive dictators that have been from another dimension to literal gods.

This will not break her.

“If we are in much of a bind as it appears, I think this more than warrants Miss Cassandra’s restriction as Black Bat, not that she was following her benching from heroics all that well.”

“I don’t know if she is capable right now, Alfred.”

“With all due respect, she is our best physical fighter. What happened?”

“We took a test and-”
---
A million thoughts ran through Cassandra’s head.

Her emotions ranged from happiness, anger, resentment, love, and, most of all, fear.

This was not meant to happen when the world was going to hell. It would occur a few years into the future when relations were smoothened, and ideally, some secrets could be safely revealed. However, as she sat in the bathroom, reality made it clear that life would always be more complex than she wished it to be.

She stared at the test, and the two-line result stared back at her.
---
“Cass is pregnant.”