Chapter Text
“Be out with it…” he sighed as he watched Leslie pack away the medical instruments she had used to treat young Batson’s wounds.
“Why should I? It’s not like you’ll be listening to anything I said in the end.” she replied in a murmur that made it clear how annoyed she was.
“It wasn’t my intention for William to find out like this—”
“He shouldn’t have found out at all!” she growled through gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice low so as not to alert the boy to what they were talking about in their argument. Young William gazed in wonder at the various trophies and machines in the great Batcave; fresh medical bandages were wrapped around his neck, careful not to obstruct his breathing tube or aggravate his wounds. He sat in the chair in front of the large Batcomputer, resting his knee; it was sprained, as Bruce suspected, but with good ointment and bandages, it would be as good as new in a couple of weeks, hopefully, before Mrs. Grover's visit. “I told you William is different from the other boys. He doesn't belong in this kind of life! He should be resting in his room, learning to live with his new limitations and trying to be a normal kid, not having to fight for his life in a place where he was promised he would be safe.”
“I know tha—”
“It seems like you don’t!” She closed her first-aid kit rather forcefully. The noise caught the boy's attention, and he looked at them with wide, curious eyes. She smiled at him and gestured for him not to worry. William, after raising an eyebrow in confusion, went back to admiring the large computer. "That damage is done, so there's nothing left to do but control damage. You WILL have a family reunion, all of you are gonna sit down and tell everything to William, every secret, who you ALL really are. Then you will tell him, and make sure the others follow, that he doesn't get involved in any vigilant activities, no cover for you, NOTHING involving Batman. If something happens to that boy, I will make sure that this incident gets to Mrs. Glover's attention, and William will get taken away where he will be safe and far away from all of you.” Bruce had never seen such seriousness in Leslie's gaze. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal” was his response, and the doctor seemed to trust his word because all the tension that had been in her person until now left her, leaving her with a bearing that screamed tiredness.
"I know that you try to do what's best for everyone, but William needs more attention, more care. And if you are not there to give him that, then let others be there for him. Don't take that away from him after all he's been through."
"I won't. The moment he tells me that he wants to leave, I will make sure that he goes somewhere safe with people who will care for him."
“Good.” With that, she took her things to say her goodbyes to the boy, promising to come back in a few days to examine his injuries and see how well they had healed.
Bruce rubbed his face with one hand to release his frustration and took a deep breath to center himself. Things got out of control, and as a result, William was injured. With Dick and Damian in the Manor, he was sure that tensions would be in the air until all of them sat down and talked about it. Leslie was right, he needs to be better. After he gets William back upstairs, he will try to call Jason; if he doesn't answer, he will have Dick try. Those two had a better relationship than he and his second son did, so Bruce was confident he would get through him. Tim will be trickier. The third Robin was recovering in Mountain Justice, and getting him through the zeta-tubes will not be advised after all the recovery he had undergone. FaceTime between the two boys may work. That is, if Jason's visit comes much later, Tim's injury will be almost healed, allowing him to attend the reunion. Best to talk to Alfred and get his input on what is best to do.
Bruce could feel William's gaze on the back of his head, so the man turned around to face him with a raised eyebrow and a doubtful expression. The boy's cheeks turned pink at being caught staring, and he was quick to feign innocence by posing his gaze back on the big screen. Bruce couldn't help but let out a sigh that seemed more like a laugh and approached him.
“Something on your mind?” he asked calmly, and the boy was quick to shake his head. Bruce let out a sigh and crossed his arms to rest his hip on the computer desk next to William. "I know it will be difficult, but you can trust me. No one will be angry with you if you have something to say, especially if it is important for you. If you ever need anything from Alfred or me, let us know. And this applies to everything, your likes or dislikes, if something troubles you, especially if you feel hurt or in danger, you can come to any of us, and we will be there for you, every step of the way. "Do you understand?" The boy took a few seconds to think about his words before nodding softly, as if the mere act of accepting caused him uncertainty.
Bruce glanced around before focusing again on the large computer that had so captivated William.
"It's really big, right? It helps when you have to keep track of several things at once... If you let me…” He carefully moved the chair William was sitting in to the side so he could interact with the Batcomputer’s controls and panel. The boy’s eyes widened in astonishment at the amount of information displayed on the screen. From photographs of criminals to reports on cases under investigation, even in the top corner of the screen, several programs were running, ranging from analyzing Scarecrow’s new toxins to gathering information reported by satellites about the state of the planet and the absence of the mythological superhero. Bruce could understand his surprise; although not many computers in the world had the kind of information his did, he doubted the boy’s city possessed this level of technology with its particular case of magic.
Speaking of witch…
“Hey Jeph, before your… accident, did something big happen in your city? Like, a big bad guy shows up and does big bad things? Or something like that?” Seeing the confusion in the boy's eyes, he quickly clarified, "It's just... Captain Marvel hasn't come to JL meetings recently, and we're worried that something bad has happened to him that we don't know about." He smiled subtly at the boy when he adopted a contemplative look, and Bruce gestured to the whiteboard so he could type his response into a note on the computer. "No one is mad or anything, just... concerned."
He remained silent to give the young man space to decide whether or not he wanted to answer. Bruce glanced at the programs tracking the planet's changes due to Captain Marvel's absence and, with frustration, noted how the numbers had increased in just a few minutes. That wasn't good at all; if things continued like this, the Crisis Hal so feared would become a reality. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed William's expression subtly shift to one of frustration as he stared at the keyboard, as if he had somehow been betrayed by it. He sighed wearily, and when Bruce turned to look at him, William slowly shrugged with a look, as if he were having an internal debate about whether he had given the correct answer.
Although he had expected it, Bruce couldn't help but feel a touch of frustration at William’s lack of cooperation, but he didn't show it. Instead, he let out a small sigh and nodded to William with a small smile, then gently ruffled his raven hair. He pretended not to notice the stiffness that enveloped the younger boy's body at the simple gesture, and he mentally scolded himself. ‘Baby steps, Bruce!’ Knowing that was all he was going to get, he decided it was time to head back upstairs. Having changed out of the Batsuit when Leslie tended to William, he only had to go and get a wheelchair from the lockers in the Batcave to take the boy back.
“I’m sure you’re hungry, so why don’t we go upstairs and pester Alfred to make us both a late breakfast, eh? I’d do it myself, but I’m not allowed in the kitchen unsupervised.” He tried to lighten the mood and was relieved to see William’s discomfort turn into amused confusion in the boy’s eyes, so he continued recounting his own culinary shortcomings. “Last time I burned the water I was going to use for the pasta.” He chuckled as he pushed the chair toward the elevator. “Alfred’s expression was priceless when I tried to explain how the sauce ended up on the ceiling.” Before the child's incredulous gaze, he hurried on, "You don't believe me? You can verify my story yourself; no matter how many times we remodel the kitchen, the stain is still there." The elevator doors closed behind them, and little by little, all the lights and equipment began to shut down, plunging the Batcave into darkness.
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Torrential downpours began to pour from the overcast sky onto the streets of Gotham. The few outdoor activities its citizens were accustomed to on rainy days were forgotten amid the stormy weather that gripped the city. Everyone preferred to stay indoors and take shelter from the rain; even the criminals opted for indoors. After all, their criminal plans for a snowy day wouldn't align with the strong winds and freezing waters that were engulfing the city. The city's villains tried to find the one who could have affected the weather; it would be a powerful ace up their sleeve to have as an ally for the next time they faced the bat. They were confused to find no one. This bad weather was too bad to be natural; someone had to be behind it all.
Only one person was brave or foolish enough to navigate the deserted streets, and he did so with inhuman calm. He seemed not to care that his pristine brown leather shoes were getting dirty from the filthy water that trickled across the grimy ground. The green suit he wore stood out in the darkness of the night, even though a darker green trench coat covered it, and loose strands of his blond hair clung to his forehead and neck as the torrential rain poured down on him. Despite his deplorable state, he didn't seem bothered; in fact, he simply kept his hands hidden in the pockets of his trench coat and, with a bored expression, continued his long walk through the dangerous streets of Gotham. The blond man tilted his head, sensing the presence of a power greater than his own, an oppressive and heavy power. Without hesitation, he followed the presence until he entered an abandoned building that appeared to be a warehouse. Inside, a woman awaited him. She wore a scarlet dress that clung to her body like a second skin; her curves and bust made her a dangerous attraction for those who could not resist the tempting lust her presence exuded.
“This place is not worthy of you, Your Highness.” The man bowed, his expression bordering on mockery. A raised eyebrow was her only response. “I would have gladly come to your kingdom to share the good news.”
“Good news?” The whisper of her voice sent shivers down anyone’s spine, but the man remained unfazed.
“Yes, everything is proceeding according to plan, just as we expected.”
“Plan?” The woman approached the man with silent steps, her pointed heels accentuating the slenderness of her long legs, visible through the cut of her dress. "You mean the plan you failed to execute in the first place?" she asked. Slowly, she began to brush the wet hair from the man's forehead, as if to tidy his appearance, but the man recognized the gesture for what it truly was: a threat.
"What happened was just a setback, but don't worry, the brat is more defenseless than ever."
"More defenseless than being alone in an alley? More defenseless than bleeding out on the verge of death?" The woman's fingers gently slid across the man's face until they reached his neck, the threat becoming increasingly lethal. It was time to get serious.
“What Billy Batson hates more than injustice is feeling powerless to help and protect the innocent. Perhaps the humans managed to repair some of the physical damage I caused him, but the wound to his magical core is already done. His connection to the divine lightning is broken; the champion will not be able to transform, no matter how hard he tries. I made sure of that.” A cruel smile crossed his lips, and the woman’s fingers loosened their grip around his neck. Because, despite her mortal appearance, the demonic spirit within her was not to be underestimated. “When disasters escalate, the champion will find himself in the position of needing help to save the day as Captain Marvel, and when that happens, I will be there waiting to lend a hand.”
“And the key to the Rock of Eternity will finally be mine.” A soft, almost imperceptible smile appeared on the woman’s crimson lips.
“Exactly.” The man agreed, relaxing slightly when the woman's hands stopped touching him. "And the universe will tremble before the power of its true queen, Lady Blaze." He stepped back from the woman and knelt in a show of respect.
"It had better be so, or I swear by my brother's fury and the most powerful being, you will regret it if you fail us, Neron." Her face contorted into a growl that darkened her gaze, and demonic fangs bared.
Without another word, a fire engulfed the woman's body, burning her clothes, her skin, and every demonic fiber she once possessed. Screams of agony and terror echoed off the warehouse walls as Neron watched the remains of the woman. The puppet of a dangerous presence from another dimension, writhing on the floor until all life was extinguished, along with the ashes that the wind carried away.
“Show off,” Neron muttered with a snort as he stood up and left the warehouse. There was nothing of importance left in that place for him.
With a determined stride, he re-entered the rainy streets, feeling the wetness settle over him once more, but he paid it no mind. No, there were other, more important things on his mind. Despite having feigned indifference and nonchalance toward Lady Blaze, Neron felt no such emotions. Frustration was what he felt most. He had the champion exactly where he wanted him: alone, defenseless, and wounded. Because the goal wasn't to kill him, but to place him in a deadly position that would make him accept a helping hand without hesitation. He was so close. Neron could taste his spirit fading with each passing minute, each drop of blood spilled creating another opening to his magical core, each breath reinforcing the ritual Neron had meticulously crafted. The stars were aligned, the sacrifices had been made, and only one wish, one deal, was needed. He only needed a few seconds, mere seconds, and the universe was in the palm of his hand. But that damned bat had to ruin his plans.
Neron allowed himself to growl with suppressed fury. That damned mortal with a savior complex had to appear and save him. Give the boy hope and the beginnings of "love" to a soul that had only known pain. He gave him a new purpose, a place to belong. Neron smiled cruelly, 'Not for long.' He had observed Batman and his clan many times, a priceless ceramic vase that fate had shattered for its own amusement. The foundations of that family were too broken; no matter how much glue they used to piece them back together, the vase would never look the same. He managed to show Billy a glimpse of what lay hidden behind the cracks—fools those children who tried to conceal how broken they really were. The blood son will be of great help in his plan. Soon, the family facade would crumble, and Billy Batson would suffer, as he always deserved.
And when the foundations fall, and ruins are all the champion sees, Neron will finally be able to consume the soul that was rightfully his.