Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Gotham City

Saturday, March 21st, 2009

The man I'm chasing suddenly stops and whirls around, waving a knife in the air.

I flip in front of him and smirk, getting into a fighting stance. There's a pause before he lunges and then I'm dodging and ducking away from the blade's erratic pattern. I see an opening and swing my leg around in a spinning hook-kick, catching my opponent across the face and sending him to the ground, unconscious. Arms wrap around me from behind and lift me off the ground. Another gangster stands in front of me with a knife and slashes down towards my chest. I lift my legs to counter the attack but the blade changes direction and slices across my thigh. It cuts through my uniform and deep into my skin and I scream as pain crashes through me.

The gangster pulls back the bloody knife for another swing but I kick out, smashing his wrist and sending the blade flying. I wrap my calves around his neck and reach back with my arms to grab the shoulders of the guy holding me. I twist my whole body and the three of us go spinning to the ground. I wriggle away from the two stunned gangsters and flip away, pulling a batarang out of my utility belt. I throw it and it embeds in the floor between them, releasing a cloud of knockout gas. My heart pounds and adrenaline rushes through my veins.

Click.

I whip around and there's another gangster.

"Say your prayers, Boy Wonder,” he aims his gun at me, and a gunshot thunders through the warehouse. The man's head explodes out, splattering the wall behind him with blood and lumpy gray fluid.

My heart slams against my ribcage as it beats.

I'm still alive.

I didn't get shot.

There's someone else in the warehouse.

My knees give out, and the gash in my thigh bleeds harder as my heart races. The world shakes and fades to black for a few seconds. When it comes back into focus, I'm lying on the ground, and there's blood everywhere. My blood is everywhere. I struggle to grab my leg and press my hand over the open wound. It burns and stings and I shout at the sudden pain. Fumbling at my utility belt, I can't stop my hand from shaking long enough to pull out a bandage or a strip of cloth.

In the distance, people are screaming and alarms are wailing and there are more gunshots. I manage to grab a bandage, but my hand is too slippery from the blood, and it slips out of my hand. My gaze wanders to the body that was a gang member until a few seconds ago. He was going to kill me. Someone killed him. I'm still going to die. The burning pain in my thigh throbs again, as the adrenaline of having a gun pointed at me starts to fade. I groan, loudly, and I feel something wet drip across my face.

I don't want to die. I just have to wait for Batman to find me. I just have to survive until then. Holding onto that last bit of hope, I grab blindly for the bandage. My hand can't find it. I cry harder, and I'm choking on my own throat in fear. I look around for anything that can help me, moving my head too quickly, and let out a desperate scream.

"Batman! Help! Someone help me! Please!"

My voice is scratchy and weak and my head is spinning. The world spins too, and suddenly the world turns black. Then something squeezes my leg, and the pain is horrible. My eyes fly open as I scream.

"Stay still," a voice commands, low and authoritative. Dizzy from the pain, I don't argue. I bite my lip and grab at the ground as the stranger finishes bandaging my leg. When his hands move away, I fight to lift my head off the ground so I can see what they did. The bandage, bloodier than before, now tightly binds the gash shut. It burns and I can't stop the tears. My head throbs and it drops to the floor painfully.
The last thing I see before I pass out is a black and orange mask.

"Introducing… the fabulous, the death defying, the FLYING GRAYSONS!" Mr. Haly shouts and the crowd goes wild. The stands are packed with millions of people, watching us, waiting for us to fly.

"That's your cue," my dad winks at me.

"Show them what you can do, my little robin," my mom says. They're both standing behind me on the platform towering high above the ring. Mom is wearing her favorite dress and her great-grandmother's ruby earrings. My dad is wearing a blue flannel and his favorite bathrobe, saved for Monday mornings after a long weekend of performances. I stare down over the edge of the platform, and there's no net. Just a long, long, long fall.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME," Mr. Haly screams into the microphone, "The newest member, DICK GRAYSON!"

The trapeze is swinging towards me and the platform is getting smaller. I turn around, dizzy from the sheer height. My parents are watching me expectantly, waiting for me to jump. They don't move, even as the platform shrinks and there's nothing beneath their feet.

And then they fall.

"NO!" I scream, running over to the edge, but then there's no more platform and I'm falling too, and the crowd is cheering and the spotlights land on me as I plummet down, down, down. I look up, and the trapeze is still swinging between the platforms, but instead of falling my parents are performing. My dad catches my mom, and then she's flipping through the air again and the crowd is cheering and I'm still falling.

"MOM! DAD! HELP!"

The ground gets closer… and closer… and closer… and I reach up and then--

I jerk upright. My breaths come quick and heavy, the lightning still flashing before my eyes.

My room is pitch black as usual with the dark curtains closed, but it's scarily quiet. I don't hear any footsteps below me, no dishes clinking. Bruce is probably out dealing with some work thing, and Alfred is most likely cleaning every room in the house twice. I yawn, stretch, and reach for the light on the bedside table. My fingers miss the lamp, hand reaching out into empty space. That's not right. My heart starts pounding again and I look around for a light. As I climb off the bed with sore arms, the ceiling lights suddenly turn on and my heart stops.

The room itself is tiny, and there's not much decoration aside from gray walls, a dresser and a single light bulb in the ceiling. The only exit is a steel door in the corner. I manage a few steps before my leg buckles and I cry out. I look down and see thick layers of gauze wrapped around my upper thigh over the shredded fabric of my uniform. My utility belt is gone and I feel naked. I suddenly remember the warehouse and the gangster with a gun.

I thought I was going to die. Brain fluid and blood coating the wall suddenly flash before my eyes. My eyes water as bile rises in my throat. Someone killed him before he could kill me. Someone saved me, and it wasn't Batman.

I can't panic right now. If I'm going to figure this out, I have to stay calm, so I take a deep breath. I push against the pain as I trudge towards the door, needing to get out. I have no idea who brought me here, and even if they did save me, I can't just sit and wait to find out what they want.

I push open the door and step into a brightly lit hallway, wincing as my eyes adjust.

"You shouldn't be up."

I jump.

The motion sends a wave up pain up my leg and I wince. The man crosses his arms, switching the bundle of bandages from one hand to the other. He only has one eye and it's pinned on me. He has white hair, a goatee and his skin is covered in scars. Plus, he's built like a brick wall. A shiver runs down my spine.

"Where am I?" I demand, "Who are you?"

My leg is throbbing, but I refuse to shift my weight off it.

"Sit back down," the man says, "I won't have you hurting your leg after all the work I did patching you up."

I hesitate and the man narrows his eye.

"Sit down, Richard."

"How do you know my name?" I demand, getting into the best fighting stance I can manage, "Who are you?"

"My name is Slade. I found you in the warehouse. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Where am I?" I repeat unsteadily.

"You need to sit down and rest your leg. Then I'll answer your questions. Deal?"

Slowly, I nod. My leg feels like it's been filled with acid and my vision is starting to blur from the pain. Playing along may be my only choice right now. Slade helps me walk back into the room and he carefully helps me back onto the bed.

"I need to clean and redress the wound,” he explains, holding up the bandages he brought and I nod, lying back against the mattress and extending my leg.

"This is going to hurt," he warns. My fists clench around the sheets in response.

Slade removes the bandages and the throbbing pain in my leg becomes worse with every touch. His fingers move deftly around the wound, but they feel like knives. When he peels away the last layer of the bandage, the sudden burst of cold air burns my leg. I can't stop myself from crying out. Slade's head snaps up, his eye scanning my face intently.

"Are you alright?"

In too much pain to say anything, I nod my head in stiff and jerky movements. Slade's hands return to their work, although he watches me closely as he swabs it with a disinfectant that feels like being rubbed with a cactus. My teeth grind together in response and my eyes press as tightly closed as they can. I force breaths in and out, trying to shut out the stabbing, burning pain attacking me. My cheeks are wet with tears and I narrow in on the sensation of water on my face. It almost helps.

Finally, Slade stops working and the pressure eases off my leg. I cry out again in relief. My breathing is short and my fingers ache from how tightly they were pressed into the sheet.

"It's not infected. You're lucky. Knife wounds can be extremely messy."

"I know," I wheeze between gasps for air, "I've gotten stabbed before."

I wait for Slade to respond, but he just shakes his head in disbelief.

"What the hell is Wayne thinking, letting a kid fight on the streets?" He asks himself slowly. Rage explodes inside me, masking the pain.

"Leave him out of this!" I yell, pushing myself forwards, hands digging into the sheets again when my leg protests.

"Calm down. I didn't mean to upset you,” Slade says calmly, “I just…"

He sighs.

"What?" I demand. Slade doesn't answer, “What?!"

He sighs again.

"You're only a child and you're fighting in a very dangerous war. It makes me wonder how many times the Batman has had to come save you when you're in over your head?"

Slade's voice is low and steady. For a split second, his gaze is like a tiger stalking its prey. I blink and shake my head, but his face is gentle and concerned. What?

"He doesn't! That's not true!" I protest, off guard.

"And you had the situation fully under control tonight? You successfully defeated four gangsters on your own and walked away unscathed?" My face starts to burn with embarrassment and my eyes narrow in rage.

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"And you followed your mentor's orders to not separate? You protected your partner's back during the entire fight?"

"It wasn't my fault that we got separated! One of them broke off during the fight and I had to stop him!"

"Leaving Batman to fight twelve armed men on his own?"

My heart skips a beat, clenched tightly by icy fingers.

"Is he okay?!" I demand, voice shaking with desperation, “What happened?" Is that why I'm here? Is Bruce… dead? I can't tear my eyes away from Slade's face, which stays impassive. I can't read his expression at all and that just makes the panic worse.

"Bruce Wayne was checked into the emergency room for minor smoke inhalation. According to the police report, there was a small kitchen fire that luckily caused very little damage to the rest of Wayne Manor. He will be fine with some rest."

I let out a huge breath, but my heartbeat is still wild and I can't calm down. Bruce got hurt because I wasn't there to watch his back. I got stabbed because I disobeyed Batman's orders and went off by myself. I almost got shot because of it.

"I need to see him!" I exclaim.

"I'm sorry, Richard. You can't leave."

"What are you talking about? I have to see Bruce! My leg is fine!"

"I can't let you leave."

"Who are you? Where am I?!"

"Richard…"

"No! Tell me the truth! What's going on?!"

Slade sighs.

"I saw you bleeding out and I couldn't stand by. I can't stand to watch a child suffer. There was no time to wait for an ambulance and you needed medical attention, so I brought you here. But I shouldn't have, because now I can't let you go. It's too risky."

"Why not?!"

"You've seen my face, you know my name, and you've been gone too long. If I let you go, do you think your mentor will simply accept your mysterious reappearance?"

"You said he was in the hospital,” my mouth is dry and my heartbeat has started to race.

"I have it on good authority that the Batman was seen searching the area three hours before Bruce Wayne was checked into the hospital."

"He wouldn't give up… if he thought I was… he wouldn't... Slade, please let me go! I need to see him."

"Richard, Batman is not called the World's Greatest Detective for nothing. If I let you go, he will find me and destroy everything I have worked for."

"Who are you?" I ask again, trying to ignore the growing pit in my stomach. If Slade is afraid of Batman, then he's bad news for me. I have to get out of here now.

"I told you. My name is Slade."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Who are you really? What do you want?"

Slade smiles grimly.

"I'm not going to get anything past you, am I? I'm a mercenary."

"What… what are you going to do to me?!"

"I don't know,” he shakes his head despairingly, "I'm so sorry Richard. I never should have taken you out of that warehouse."

The gunman's head exploding flashes back to me.

"Was that you?" I ask quietly, not looking Slade in the eye, “The gunman?"

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I… I lost my son a few years ago. I couldn't watch another child die,” the silence hangs between us, almost stifling.

"My parents were murdered," I confess, my voice heavy with pain, “Bruce is all I have left. Please, Slade, I can't lose him too."

Slade closes his eye silently. I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond. Finally, he admits, "There… might be a way. I don't like being vulnerable, and I can't leave loose ends, but it might be possible for you to go home without jeopardizing everything I've worked for."

"What is it?" I ask immediately.

"If you were to agree to work for me for a few years that would justify the risk of letting you return home. I'll train you to fight against your villains, and I'll keep your identity safe. In exchange, you'll help me with occasional small tasks and keep my secrets hidden."

He wants me to work for him?! He's a mercenary! I saw him murder the gangster in the warehouse… which he only did to save my life. He pulled me out of the fire and closed the wound on my leg so I didn't bleed out. He kept me safe when Batman couldn't. If he was going to hurt me, he could have let me get shot, left me in the warehouse to burn, or let me bleed out. Instead, he saved my life. What does he gain by lying about that?

"Okay."

Slade looks surprised and wary.

"Richard, this isn't a decision to make lightly. If you agree to work for me, you can't change your mind or back out later. I take contracts very seriously."

Suddenly, it occurs to me that I have no idea what I'm agreeing to. If I do this, I can't go back. But if I don't, I might never see Bruce again and my decision is made. I hold out my hand.

"Deal."

"I'll take you to the hospital after you've slept a little more. I will contact you in a few weeks,” Slade moves out the room, and the door closes behind him with a snap. I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

The Batcave

Sunday March 22nd, 2009

I open my eyes slowly. The familiar sight of the Batcave infirmary comes into view.

"Good morning," a woman says. She's blurry at first, but my eyes fix themselves and I recognize her neat gray hair and rectangular glasses. It's Doctor Thompkins. She was Bruce's physician when he was a little kid, and now she's the only doctor he trusts to patch him up after he gets hurt on patrol. If she's here, that means whatever happened to me was pretty bad.

I blink, trying to clear the fog out of my head. My heart jumps in my chest, along with a sudden wave of panic.

"What… what happened?" I ask. My voice catches in my throat and turns into a coughing fit.

"Easy, Dick. What do you remember?" she asks gently, in her soothing voice that makes it seem like she wouldn't even be worried if the world blew up.

I screw my eyes shut.

Think!

"We were in the warehouse and the fire started… I went after some of them on my own but I couldn't… I… one of them had a knife… I think…" I don't remember anything after that. Why don't I remember?!

"Shhh, just breathe. It's okay. You're safe now," Doctor Thompkins puts her hand on my arm before I can freak out. I force air into my lungs, letting my hands relax from their death grip on the sheets. Doctor Thompkins readjusts her glasses and smiles reassuringly, "It's normal not to remember. You're on a lot of painkillers right now. You've been out for nine hours. Bruce found you with a nasty gash on your leg and minor smoke inhalation."

I cough again and she nods. The look on her face says, "What do you expect?"

"You'll be fine with a little rest, and I want you to stay off your leg for a few weeks. You got really lucky. A cut like that could damage your nerves and develop a serious infection."

I remember the blade slashing through my leg as I struggled against the gangsters holding me in an arm lock. I remember screaming as I lashed out, sending them to the ground and knocking them out.

What happened next?

My head throbs as I try to press through the black haze, but it just slips away.

"It'll come back. Don't hurt yourself," Doctor Thompkins says gently, one hand slowly stroking my hair comfortingly.

"Sorry."

There's a knock on the door and Bruce comes in.

"How is he, Leslie?" Bruce asks, voice full of worry. I do a double take. Bruce doesn't do worried, or really any kind of emotion unless there's cameras around. He must be really freaking out.

Worth it, my subconscious tells me. My eyes widen. What was worth it?!

"Ask him yourself," she smiles, standing up so he can take the chair. The door closes with a snap.

Snap.

The same sound the door made when Slade left the room.

Memories come back in flashes. A gun pointed between my eyes. The shot ringing through the warehouse, a gangster's head exploding. A black and orange mask appearing out of nowhere. Slade saying my name. Slade saying he wouldn't let me leave.

"If you work for me, you can return home,"

"Deal."

"I'll contact you in a few weeks."

Bruce squeezes my shoulders, too much worry in his voice.

"Dick? Can you hear me?"

Blinking back the memories, I nod dimly. Relief floods his face and his arms raise, but he hesitates. I throw my arms around him and he lets himself hug me back.

It's warm and comfortable and so safe that tears start dripping down my face. Once I start crying, I can't stop. Bruce just holds me tighter. He starts rubbing circles into my back gently. There's no judgement, just love and relief and support even if he doesn't know why I'm crying. I thought I would never see Bruce again. I thought I would be trapped in that bunker with Slade forever. I thought I would die in the warehouse, a bullet lodged in my brain.

"It's okay," Bruce murmurs, "You're safe now. I'm here."

I sniffle and pull back from the hug. I take a few deep breaths, but the tears don't want to stop.

"I shouldn't have left you alone! I'm sorry!"

"I'm sorry, too," Bruce sighs, "I never should have brought you to that fight. I didn't realize how many there were, and we were both unprepared. You were hurt because of me. I never should have put you in danger, Dick. You're my responsibility. It's my fault you got hurt. I… I'm so sorry. This was all my fault."

"No, it wasn't!" I protest, pulling back with tears and snot running down my face, "I'm the one who messed up! I left you alone to fight twelve of them by yourself, and then you didn't know where I was!"

Bruce looks at me sternly, guilt turning into disbelief.

"This was not your fault, Dick. I can't put you in danger anymore."

"You didn't! I put myself in danger!"

"That's the problem. You'll do whatever you think is right, even if it means putting yourself in the line of fire."

"That's what superheroes do! That's what you do!"

Bruce leans forward slowly, easing his hands onto my shoulders. I raise my head to meet his eyes, and I wince at the pain shining through them.

"I don't want you to be like me," he says solemnly and my gut twists with every word, "You deserve better. You deserve to be safe and healthy and happy."

"I am happy!" I shout, "Yes, I messed up, but that was my fault, not yours! I promise, I'll never do it again. I'll do exactly what you tell me to do from now on! You can't take Robin away from me."

"Dick…"

"No! I wanted to become Robin, and you knew exactly what that meant. But you let me do it anyway, even though you knew it wasn't a decision to be made lightly!" Slade's words slide off my tongue, "I won't stop being Robin."

Bruce stares at me, his face blank. I meet his eyes, narrowing them in determination. Finally, his mouth twitches in a mix of fondness and sadness.

"I know."

The mattress creaks as he sits next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"I don't want to see you hurt."

"I don't want you to get hurt because I wasn't there. You need me."

The thought catches Bruce off guard. He blinks and his back stiffens while his mouth narrows into a thin line. His surprise only lasts for a second before the arm around my shoulder is pulling me into a hug.

"I know."

Dick Grayson

The Bishop Family Estate

Friday, April 14th, 2009

"Bruce, darling! It's been far too long."

"And I am deeply sorry about that, Theodora. I'd blame it on work, but it's really my own fault," Bruce answers seriously. Considering he does everything he can to stay away from Mrs. Miriam, it really is his fault. He always says telling the truth is the best way to lie.

"I swear, you get to be more of a charmer with every year," Mrs. Weimoff laughs and Mrs. Miriam laughs with her.

"I do my best, Elana," Bruce smiles.

"Oh, and this must be Richard. My god, he's sprouted like a weed! What have you been feeding him?"

Mrs. Miriam reaches down to pinch my cheeks and I scoot backwards, just enough so that her thumbs can't quite reach. She settles for giving my face a brief squeeze before straightening. I fight back an eyeroll, but keep the forced socialite-in-training smile that Alfred insisted I perfect on my face.

"Now, Bruce, you must tell me about this new venture Caleb has roped you into. He insisted it would be quite the adventure to partner with you again."

"It's a collaborative project between two of our subdivisions, Theodora. I'm not quite sure how that qualifies as an adventure."

"That's not what Caleb tells me!" Mrs. Miriam leans in conspiratorially, pulling Bruce closer, "He seemed quite anxious about the whole thing. Don't tell him I've said so, but that man has no sense for business. Such a shame too, his father could talk a man into a dress and heels."

Mrs. Miriam cackles at her own horrible joke. Bruce and I make a face at each other.

Can I go? I beg silently. He presses his lips together and gives a tiny head shake.

"Well, Thea, you can't expect to get a straight answer from Caleb these days. You know his fiancé gets back from her deployment next week," Mrs. Weimoff points out.

"Oh! No wonder the poor boy is such a wreck," Mrs. Miriam exclaims, throwing her hands in the air.

"Deployment?" Bruce asks politely.

"You heard about the engagement, I assume?" Mrs. Miriam asks. Bruce nods. I shake my head.

"Well, Caleb's firm has been in consulting for the military for the past few years, and from what I hear he hit it off with one of the platoon leaders. She's due back from Afghanistan next week," Mrs. Weimoff tells me.

"You know, it's funny, Vivian always said that Caleb needed a woman who would boss him around, otherwise he'd just sit around twiddling his thumbs. And there he goes, head over heels for a drill sergeant!" Mrs. Miriam laughs shrilly.

"I'll be sure to send them my regards," Bruce says, cutting in neatly before the gossip gets any more out of hand.

"Well, that's very sweet of you, but I would suggest you wait at least until Michelle gets back before you talk to Caleb. He really is a mess," Mrs. Weimoff says seriously, casting a worried glance across the hall.

"I appreciate the suggestion."

"We won't take up any more of your time, Bruce. Go mingle," Mrs. Weimoff smiles, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Elana, Theodora," Bruce and I cross the hall, making our way towards the bathrooms so I have a quick escape if we get spotted again, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Mrs. Weimoff isn't so bad, but why does everyone try to pinch me?!" I whine, "Yes, I have gotten taller in the last twelve months. Congratulations for noticing!"

Bruce grins and pats my shoulder, "Just wait until you hit your growth spurt."

"Any sign of Roy?" I ask.

"I haven't seen Ollie yet, but they're both on the list. They should be here soon if they aren't already."

"I'm going to dieeeee…" I whine. Bruce laughs and messes up my hair.

"I'll bring flowers to your funeral."

"Bruuuuuuce…" I whine, reaching up to straighten it.

"Excuse me, waiter?" A new voice says while a hand taps Bruce on the shoulder, "Have you seen a walking pile of cologne and Playboy magazines? About yea high? Massive superiority complex? Oh, there you are Bruce! I was just looking for you."

"It's a shame, Oliver, I was really hoping you'd lost your invitation," Bruce offers Uncle Ollie his hand and a foppish smile before they both laugh and break character.

"Good to see you, Bruce. You too, kid," Uncle Ollie gives me a hug. There's no sign of Roy, but there is a woman with blonde hair and a long black dress at Ollie's side. She offers me a smile and I nod back at her.

"Is Roy here?" I ask.

Ollie shakes his head, "Sorry Dick. I owed him one so he skipped tonight. But I'd like you both to meet my partner, Dinah Lance."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne, and you too, Richard. Ollie has told me so much about you both."

"The pleasure is ours, Miss Lance. Although, I have to say that I'm reasonably sure we've met before. You said you and Ollie are… partners?"

"In everything. Partners in crime, you might even say," Dinah winks, "I'm sure you're both more than familiar with that particular line of work."

Hmm… if Bruce thinks they met before, then they definitely did. But is she really saying what I think she is?

Bruce squeezes my shoulder twice, signaling to be on-guard. In this case though, Bruce looks totally at ease. There's none of the false charm he puts on when there's danger. Then that means… is Dinah really a superhero too?

"Three o'clock," Ollie mutters to Bruce. I scoot back, so I'm standing behind him.

"There you are, Bruce," Mr. Nathan Bishop appears, shaking Bruce's hand firmly.

"We're so glad you could make it!" Elizabeth Bishop croons, air-kissing Bruce's cheeks. She turns to Oliver and beams, "And Oliver, thank you for coming all this way! How's Moira?"

"She's keeping busy with the foundation," Ollie answers with a smile.

"Make sure to give her my best. We'll be back in Santa Barbara this summer and I've got so much to talk to her about. Your mother is an absolute genius when it comes to coordinating events."

"I'll tell her you said so," Ollie says, "Have you met Dinah?"

While Mrs. Bishop says her greetings, Nathan leans towards me and says, "If you've gotten bored of all the schmoozing, Jilly and Lenny set up a movie in the game room."

I look at Bruce pleadingly.

"Fine by me," he says, "Just make sure your tie is still on during dinner."

"Thank you!"

"Go through the kitchen and through the double doors in the back."

Mrs. Bishop winks at me as I slip past her and through the massive ballroom. The Bishops are old friends of Bruce's, which are pretty rare. Bruce and Nathan met in college way before Bruce was using his playboy billionaire cover and they somehow managed to stay in contact. Jill and her younger brother Lenny wave at me when I make it to the game room. There's a giant tv against one wall and a ring of couches and armchairs.

"Hi Dick!" Lenny waves.

"We saved you a seat," Jill gestures to one of the two empty couches from her spot on a plushy recliner.

There aren't a lot of kids at these kinds of events. Dolled-up toddlers and little kids in clothes that would cost what my parents made in a year get paraded around during the cocktail hour, but after about forty minutes the nannies come to whisk them back home. Aside from Jill and Lenny, a boy named Michael and a pair of twins named Veronica and Lydia are watching Mulan. Jill is fourteen and she's the oldest. Michael is the youngest and I'm only a few months older than him. They're all nice enough, even if the only thing I have in common with them is that we all agree these dinners are so stupidly boring.

I wish Roy was here.

I sit on the couch closest to the door and pull out my phone, checking the time. Dinner isn't for another hour and a half, and Bruce always has to stay until at least midnight. But it could be worse. At least I don't have to make any more small talk tonight.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Starling City

Saturday, April 15th, 2009

"Think you can handle it for the night?" Green Arrow asks, winking at me cheerfully. Kid Flash and I nod enthusiastically, while Speedy crosses his arms over his chest.

"We can handle it, Ollie," he insists and his mentor nods. The Flash shrugs.

"I trust them to watch out for each other. I'm sure it's good for them to go off on their own for a little."

Everyone turns towards Batman, and I put on my best, "I can do this" face. It must work, because Batman says, "Alright. But be careful."

"We won't be more than a few hours. Don't stay out past one, and if you run into anything that you can't handle, do not engage. Call Clark if there's an emergency," Flash says, looking back and forth between me, KF and Speedy.

"We'll be fine," Kid Flash replies, trying not to whine.

"I'm serious. Literally just shout. We told him to keep his ear out," Flash adds.

"You guys trained us to be ready. You can trust us to be careful," I add convincingly, "Plus, we all have our communicators."

Finally, our mentors nod. As they turn to leave, Green Arrow looks back at us and grins.

"By the way," he calls cheekily, "If you destroy my city, you're all grounded."

We watch from the rooftop as the Batwing rises off the ground and shoots away, a dark streak in the night sky.

"You're so lucky that you're rich," Kid Flash says, "You guys get all the cool stuff."

"Yeah, I guess, but it stinks sometimes too. The parties are super boring and there's just so many of them. Speaking of which…" I spin around, pointing a finger at Speedy angrily, "You weren't even there last night! You left me there all alone! I had to deal with three hours of rich old hags poking at me and saying how 'wonderfully generous' Bruce is. And Mrs. Miriam kept trying to pinch me!"

Speedy shrugs, smirking evilly, "Sorry kid. I just had so much homework to do. Plus, Ollie owed me for catching that sniper he missed last week."

"You're an ass," I pout. Roy messes up my hair and smirks even wider.

"Like you didn't sneak off to watch tv as soon as Bruce turned around. And swearing doesn't make you sound cool."

Wally laughs, "Wow, Rob. Tough life you've got there."

I stick my tongue out at Roy and turn back to Wally.

"Yeah, we get some pretty cool gear. Bruce just made these new smoke pellets that gets filtered through the mask lenses so we can see through it."

"That's so cool! How does it work?"

Before I can respond, Speedy interrupts, "Are we just going to stand here and talk all night or are we going to go stop a bank robbery?"

He holds up the handheld police-scanner that Ollie modified to show crimes happening around the city. The scanner reads, "Bank robbery in-progress. 48 South George Street. Hostage situation. All units respond."

"That's only eight blocks from here," Speedy says, stowing it away, "I'll show you guys how to get there…"

"Race you!" Kid Flash interrupts, pulling his red goggles over his eyes and speeding away.

"Cheater!" I call after him, grabbing my grappling gun and jumping off the roof. I fire it towards the nearest building as I fall, and the line catches my weight as I swing forwards. I let out a cackle as wind whips around my head and my heart pulses with pure adrenaline. There's nothing as fun as flying through the air. I tuck and roll when I land on the next rooftop and reel in the grappling line. Without interrupting the movement, I break into a run and start to cross the cityscape. I jump over air-conditioning units and dive from building to building without missing a step.

Behind me, Speedy tries to follow my route, but he's having a much harder time making some of the longer jumps. I feel a rush of pride and speed up, trying to spot the yellow and red blur that is Kid Flash. About two minutes later, I see him running up the side of the building to get a better view. I land beside him and pull out my binoculars.

"I circled the block a few times to check for explosives, getaway cars or anything that might be a trap. It's clear."

"Good thinking," I look through the binoculars, trying to see through the bank's windows. Speedy lands behind us with a thud.

"There's six of them in there. I can't tell if they have hostages or not," I say before Speedy reaches for the binoculars.

"Let me see," he insists, but Kid Flash is faster and grabs it out of my hands.

"I only see five," he says, staring through the lenses in deep concentration. Speedy growls in annoyance and pulls the binoculars away. He studies the interior of the bank.

"Rob is right. There's six; one by the main entrance, four in the center and one in the back. There's someone tied up in the back, maybe multiple people. We have to be careful."

I snort; Speedy lives for excitement, and even Ollie thinks he's too reckless. How did he say that with a straight face?

"So what's the plan?" Kid Flash asks. Speedy takes another look through the binoculars.

"If we get the doors open, how fast can you disarm the guns?" Speedy asks and Kid Flash thinks.

"I can disarm them all in three seconds."

I shake my head, "That's not fast enough. The average trigger reflex is faster than a quarter of a second. There's too high of a chance that someone will get hurt."

"Rob, how good is your aim?"

"How good is yours?" I shoot back, insulted.

"I'm serious. Can you jam the barrel on the first try?"

"I can knock it out of their hands with one shot."

Speedy nods.

"Alright. We have to move fast. I'm going to draw out the guy in front. As soon as I do, KF, you disarm the guy on the hostages and take him out. Rob, you take out the left two. I'll get the right two. Make sure you disarm them before they have a chance to shoot. We can't risk anyone getting hurt."

"Got it," I nod, and KF does the same.

"On my mark," Speedy instructs. Kid Flash pulls his red goggles over his eyes and I pull out two batarangs.

"Ready," we say in unison.

"Good. Let's move."

"Tuck your knees in and follow your weight. It's easy!" I exclaim, leaning over the edge of the building. The next rooftop is maybe eight feet below, so it's a perfect spot for Wally to try a flip.

"If he misses, we're going to have to clean speedster pancake off the ground," Roy snips, wiping dirt off his bow.

"He won't miss! It's so easy."

"Uh, actually I might be with Roy on this one," Wally interjects sheepishly.

"What? KF, don't be a wimp."

"I'm not a wimp!"

"Could'a fooled me."

"Hey, did you see me earlier? That guy waved a machine gun in my face and I didn't even flinch."

"That's because you were moving faster than he was."

"Yeah, but he still could have shot me."

"Ugh, will you two shut up?" Roy complains, leaning his chin on his bow, "Let's go find something else to do. I'm bored."

"What kind of crime happens in Starling City anyways?" Wally asks, sitting against the building's partition with his legs outstretched. He's tossing bits of gravel in the air absentmindedly, and the small bits of rock are moving so fast that smoke is starting to rise off them.

"There's some gang activity, robberies, a few super-powered crazies and a surprisingly large number of assassins. I don't know what it is, but assassins love this city," Roy answers, staring over the cityscape.

"You're lucky. We just get a ton of psychos who are bent on world destruction. Also, there's a lot of theme villains," I chime in.

"Central City gets a lot of theme villains," Wally responds, "But they don't really care about world domination that much. They care more about stealing stuff and causing trouble."

"Metropolis probably has the weirdest villains, though. Aside from Luthor, Superman has to deal with the wackiest people. Like Toyman or Mr. Mxyzptlk," Roy adds, looking over his police scanner for anything to do.

"Yeah, I'm glad Supes is the one to deal with him," I snort and they both stare at me.

"Supes?" Roy repeats incredulously.

"Superman is just too long to say all the time. I figured it's easier to shorten it."

"Yeah, but Supes? Really?" Wally asks. I stick out my tongue and shove him.

"You're a weird kid, Grayson," Roy shakes his head. He leans back on his hands and lets his head loll backwards, "This is so boring! Why isn't anything happening?"

Wally jumps up and covers Roy's mouth with his hands.

"Don't say that!" he exclaims as Roy pushes his hands away, spitting.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"You just jinxed us. Now, every baddie in the city is going to come after us tonight!"

"Don't be so dramatic."

Ollie's police scanner lights up. The three of us look down eagerly.

"What is it?"

"There's a break in at the museum."

"I bet it's the special exhibit!" I say eagerly.

"What exhibit?" Wally asks.

"A team of archaeologists in the Himalayas uncovered this ancient monastery library filled with these ancient spiritual texts about life and reincarnation."

"Oh!" Roy nods, "That must be why Ollie paid so much to that Mongolian research team."

"We've got to check it out!" Wally grins, vibrating with excitement.

"Do you think we should call the League?" I ask, "If Ollie paid for the exhibit, he might have been setting a trap. He'll probably want to know about this."

Roy shrugs dismissively, "If he's trying to set a trap, then he'll be watching the museum too."

"So it's settled!" Kid Flash cheers, lowering his googles over his eyes, "Rob, hop on!"

I climb on to Kid Flash's back, hooking my arms around his shoulders.

"Let's go stop a robbery!"

"Okay, maybe you weren't being dramatic…" Speedy says exactly twenty-six minutes and forty-one seconds later as the crowd of assassin thieves closes in on us.

"I got the left!" I quip, pulling out a smoke pellet and disappearing into the cloud of gas.

"I'll take the right!" Wally responds quickly before zooming into the forwards against his attackers. Roy grumbles something about the middle, but it's hard to hear him in the middle of all the yelling and punching. I throw batarang after batarang, punching, kicking and flipping with precision. For a bunch of highly trained assassins, they're honestly pretty easy to knock out.

"Rob, behind you!" Wally shouts. I drop to the ground and Roy's bolo arrow wraps tightly around the last assassin's arms. I do a spin kick on the ground, knocking their legs out from under them.

"Nice one, Speedy!" I cheer. Then I dive out of the way of a sword… and the guy holding it.

"Does anyone have eyes on the package?" Speedy shouts. I look at the display case, and the backpack stuffed with priceless documents is gone. I flip backwards to avoid Mr. Sword's sword and then I spot an assassin with the backpack making a break for it.

"There!" I point.

"He's getting away!" Kid Flash shouts, cornered by three other assassins.

"Robin, go!" Speedy orders, shooting a net arrow at the assassin trying to turn me into a Robin-kebab.

"I got it!" I pull out my grappling hook and shoot up onto a low roof. I follow the assassin's path from above, diving from rooftop to rooftop and swinging across wide gaps between taller buildings. The assassin ducks into alleys and over dumpsters, climbing over chain-link fences with impressive speed. I'm still moving a lot quicker than he is. Suddenly, he looks up at me and throws a shuriken that almost cuts my ear off. When I look down, he's gone.

"No!" I jump off the roof and swing off a light post, landing softly in the alley.

Where did he go?

There's a thump that sounds like something heavy hitting the ground. It's coming from the window on the right-hand wall. The window pane is lying on the ground, cracked in three giant shards. I grin before taking two running steps and diving through the window, rolling smoothly when I hit the ground on the other side.

Uh-oh.

I freeze. The assassin is slumped in a pile on the ground, unconscious but clearly still breathing. Standing over him… Slade throws me the backpack filled with the stolen texts.

"Looking for these?"

I catch the backpack on pure reflex. My head is spinning and my brain stalls.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you I would be in touch," Slade responds, "We need to go over the details of our arrangement."

"Uh… this really isn't a good time…" I start nervously, trying to edge my way towards the window.

"This won't take long," Slade promises. He stares down at me, crossing his arms sternly, "Unless you don't intend to uphold your part of the bargain."

"No. I… I do. It's just…"

Kid Flash and Speedy are waiting for me. I'm in uniform. I hoped Slade forgot. Part of me thought none of it was real. But it was. And I promised. I inhale, shaking my head to jump-start my brain before meeting Slade's gaze.

"Okay. What are they?"

"We will meet once every three weeks. I have acquired a property in the southern part of Gotham that we will use for immediate future. You will make your way there by seven o'clock. If transportation is an issue at any point, send me a message and I will provide something for you. We will meet for three hours unless I tell you otherwise. I will tell you the next date every time we meet, but to remind you I will send a message on your phone. I have a burner phone specifically for this purpose. It cannot be traced back to me, nor can it be tracked. You can use this number if you need to reach me in an emergency. If you have any conflicts and absolutely cannot make it, tell me with as much advance notice as possible, but I expect you to make every effort to show up. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"Discretion will be essential for both of us. The less contact we have with each other, the less likely it is that anyone will get suspicious."

I nod again. Less contact sounds good.

"I will text you the address from the burner phone. Be at the garage by seven o'clock next Wednesday night. Do you understand?"

I don't patrol on Wednesdays. How did he know that?

"Yes."

"Good. Now I believe you have some stolen property to return."

When I look up, the warehouse is empty. All that's left is the unconscious assassin against the wall, the backpack in my hands, and the taste of dust in my mouth. My mind is racing as I manage to make my way back across the rooftops to the museum by muscle memory alone.

"Nice work, Rob!" Wally cheers, thumping me on the back when I pass the backpack to Roy.

"Thanks," I mutter, trying to smile back at him but it doesn't really work. What did I get myself into?

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

The Batcave

Wednesday, April 18th, 2009

"Load the sample in here and make sure the lid is firmly closed," Batman instructs, helping me put the capsule into the DNA sequencer. Before he can show me how to start the machine, an alarm on the Batcomputer starts blaring. We make eye contact for a split second, then we're running for the computer.

"Break in at Tiffany's in downtown," I read the alert.

"Let's go," Batman presses a button and the Batmobile doors swing open.

"Can I drive?" I ask.

"When you're sixteen," Batman answers, climbing decisively into the driver's side.

"I know how!" I protest as I jump into the passenger seat.

"Really," Batman revs the engine and the Batmobile races out of the cave, through the false rock wall that disguises the entrance, and down the road towards the city.

"Yeah! Mom thought it would be good for me to learn so Omar taught me."

"Omar the lead clown?"

"Yeah!"

"In that case, absolutely not."

"No fair," I grumble. If I have to learn how to use a DNA analyzer for crime scene sample analysis, I should get to drive a car but Batman's so weird about that stuff. It's still not fair. I'm a good driver! Everyone in the circus said so! He's the one being stubborn about it. I guess can let it go. I'll be the bigger person.

Five minutes later I tell him, "You're just biased against clowns."

"That bias seems perfectly reasonable to me," Batman answers, raising an eyebrow as high as it can go. I roll my eyes.

"The Joker's not a real clown!"

"What defines being a real clown or not?"

"Clowns are fun! They make people happy and it takes a lot of work and effort. The Joker doesn't deserve to call himself a clown!"

"I don't mean any offense to Omar. I'm sure he was a very talented clown but that doesn't change the fact that I personally think that even non-homicidal, perfectly lovely people clowns are terrifying and I think you know how I feel about homicidal clowns."

I giggle.

"Are you scared of clowns? Real clowns?"

Batman shakes his head and points at the road.

"Oh look, we're here. What a perfect time to leave this conversation and never come back to it."

Still giggling, I climb out of the Batmobile and pull out my grappling gun, following Batman in a straight path up to the Tiffany's rooftop. There's a black duffel bag near a giant vent. Soft climbing sounds are followed by a woman pulling herself out of the vent with the grace of someone who robs high security buildings for fun.

"Catwoman," Batman announces.

"Batman," the thief purrs, slowly turning around as if she has all the time in the world. She grins at him, waggling her fingers to show off the dozens of rings and bracelets on her hand before she pulls all of it off and stows it in the bag on her hip.

"Those don't belong to you."

"Meow. The World's Greatest Detective, everyone," she saunters forwards, moving closer and closer to Batman until her face is inches from his, "Now I suppose this is the part where you tell me I'm not going to get away with this and that we can do it the easy way or the hard way."

My hand reaches for a birdarang, but Batman hasn't moved. Neither has Catwoman, extended claw tips resting on Batman's chest like she's about to scratch him.

"I'll give you a freebie, oh mighty Crusader. Emeralds in the vent above the vault with the rest of my gear," she tilts her head like she's pouting, "I didn't have time to go back for my stuff before you boys got here."

"Robin," Batman orders, his voice almost a growl.

"On it," I say, running for the door that leads down from the roof. If I wasn't so glad to leave the two of them and their weird… whatever that was behind, I'd almost think it was too easy. Like she wanted us to show up and stop her. She's crazy.

Bruce Wayne

Tiffany's Roof

"He's limping?" Catwoman asked.

"Warehouse fire," he paused, a second longer than strictly appropriate, "Debris."

Catwoman saw right through him, like she always did. Tilting her head to just that angle that made her hair slide off her shoulder, distracting him from that piercing look in her eyes- the one that said, 'I know you know that I see through you, don't even try to hide it.'

"You're not sure."

"We got separated and… something happened. I don't know what and he won't tell me. Says he doesn't remember."

"He's a little young for a teenage rebellion, isn't he?" Catwoman sounded puzzled. Batman frowned. He wasn't sure if it was from her tone or the insinuation that there was something big and obvious he was missing. Batman made a point not to miss the big and obvious things.

"Something scared him. Someone."

"Who?" Catwoman demanded.

"I'm trying to find out. If the fire was a setup, whoever was behind it covered their tracks too well and the leads are drying up fast."

Catwoman's frown matched his own.

"I haven't heard anything on my end. If any of the Rogues managed to get one up on the Boy Wonder, the whole Iceberg would know about it by first call. Joker, Two-Face, hell, even Firefly would have shouted it to the rooftops."

"Not a Rogue," Batman said, "The Fifteens have been cutting into Falcone territory. I ID'd six members of their gang at the warehouse after the situation was neutralized. The fire was Falcone making a stand. Cut and dry."

"But…" she drew out the word, waiting for him to get to the point.

"It's too obvious. The firefight started before we got there but no casualties. They started shooting at us as soon as we arrived."

Catwoman snorted, "You'd think gangsters would know better by now."

"They do. When I show up to a turf war, they scram. They don't start a twelve-on-one in the middle of enemy territory."

"I take it you shook Falcone down?"

"He didn't know about any of it."

"Convenient," Catwoman snorted, flexing her claws at the thought of the mob boss. There was no love lost between the Rogues and the mobs, and Catwoman especially detested them. Unfortunately, this time his story checked out.

"He didn't know about the warehouse in the first place, much less ordering his men to torch it. Besides, the ones I caught are barely even bottom of the pecking order. Some of them weren't in the mob at all."

"So, it was a setup."

"Correct. I just don't know who's behind it or why. We made thirteen arrests after the fire and none of them knew who they'd been hired by. The money was supposed to come through another man, Mike Santini, who'd originally been approached to do the job. But whether or not Santini knew who he'd been hired by…," Batman frowned, acknowledging the wave of guilt from a preventable death. Catwoman's mouth tightened into a line when she realized what his silence meant.

"You can't save them all Batman. Those idiots knew the risks when they set the fire."

"Santini was shot in the head."

Catwoman's eyes widened.

"What? You said it was just a warehouse fire."

"I thought it was."

"Wait, slow down. Set the scene for me. Something about a twelve-on-one?"

"When Robin and I arrived, the warehouse was already on fire and the rival 'gangs' were shooting at each other. Based on the lack of casualties and their response to our appearance, the entire thing was a trap to lure us into the warehouse. During the fight, one of the thugs took off running and Robin went after him. I thought I had dealt with all of them but something hit me from behind when I went after Robin. By the time I woke up, police and fire were doing evac."

Catwoman looked stunned.

"What?" he asked.

"You miscounted your takedowns?!" she hissed, sounding scandalized.

Batman scowled and continued, "I took out ten thugs and all ten were taken into custody. Not counting Santini, GCPD arrested three more in the loading dock behind the warehouse."

"So one of those four knocked you out," Catwoman said decisively.

"It only could have been Santini," Batman nodded, "Robin says he took out three of them before the debris hit and he passed out. The other three all had similar stories; Robin knocked them out with a smoke grenade."

"So say it was Santini. He knocked you out and went after his buddies in the loading dock. Who shot him?"

"Any of the three could have done it. They might have been aiming at Robin and missed. They were all armed and their weapons had been fired repeatedly."

"Makes sense to me," Catwoman shrugged, "So, start to finish, you show up to a fire, surprise! It's also a gunfight. You take ten while Robin chases three to the loading dock. One of them was hiding, knocks you out while your back is turned, and gets shot by a stray bullet while trying to pummel Robin. Robin knocks out other three, gets hit with debris and passes out. Emergency services pull everyone out so there's one casualty instead of fifteen. What's the problem?"

"All three thought Santini was alive. When I interrogated them separately, their stories matched. Robin took the three of them out at the same time. None of them fired a weapon or heard a gunshot."

"I see," Catwoman hummed and stepped closer, counting out on her fingers, "We have a body and no plausible killer. That means we're missing a player. Someone else was in the warehouse who knocked you out, shot Santini…"

She paused long enough to fix him with a piercing stare, and continued like she was pulling the thoughts straight out of his head, "And probably was the mysterious boss who orchestrated the whole thing. Double bonus, you think Robin saw him do it, and our mystery man scared him."

"There's no motive otherwise," Batman said, "If it was a gang dispute, why deliberately drag vigilantes in? I… can't put aside the idea that whoever was behind it was trying to get to Robin. But I can't be sure."

"Too bad the kid won't just tell you."

Batman hesitated.

"He may not know. He was unconscious when I found him."

"You haven't asked him yet?"

"I didn't want to push him. The whole thing rattled him a lot more than he's willing to admit. Santini was shot right in front of him and that's a lot for him as it is. I have to give him time right now."

Catwoman sighed.

"Look stud, I know you're panicking. But cuts and bruises aside, the kid is fine. You know he's having the time of his life flipping around the museum as we speak. I'll do some digging of my own and see if I can stir up anything. Okay?" Batman didn't answer. Catwoman took it as the affirmative she was looking for and her claws settled back on his chest, "Now can we get back to the part where I lured you here under false pretenses to seduce you?"

"You fiend," Batman said dryly.

"Careful, handsome, you might hurt my feelings," Catwoman grinned, stepping closer. She leaned in, lips pausing a centimeter from Bruce's ear. His hand paused in midair, torn between duty and desire, "You never think about what could happen?"

The whisper swept through the night.

"Selina, you know why I can't," he said firmly as his hand moved between them and pushed her back gently. She stepped back, a tight look on her face.

"You're a crimefighter, I'm a criminal, we're just too different," Catwoman sighed, but behind the dramatics there was real sadness.

"I have a kid, Selina. He comes first."

"I know," Catwoman snapped. Then her face softened, "I know. But I know you feel the way about me that I feel about you, so I know there has to be a way."

"There is."

Catwoman flinched, "You would say that. I'm not giving it up."

"Then that's your choice," Batman said, disguising the pang in his chest as venom in his voice.

"Jackass," Catwoman snapped, "You don't see me demanding that you give up your Caped Crusading."

"The city needs Batman," Batman graveled, "It doesn't need a thief running around in skintight leather."

Instead of getting mad, Catwoman turned slowly, showing off with a wicked grin that sent a spark all the way down. Batman told himself he was analyzing the scene in order to be aware of the situation and that it was completely different than staring.

"The entire population of hot-blooded men would disagree with that," Catwoman stepped closer, pulling him in, "Including you."

Batman didn't fight as their lips met.

He didn't let himself think. There would be plenty of time to analyze the moment later, when the rigidly disciplined crimefighter would try to reconcile with the overwhelming certainty that he was in love. Thinking was just not possible when he was standing on a rooftop, a harsh breeze whipping his cape around while one hand was tangled up in Catwoman's silky hair and the other was wrapped around her waist and her tongue was dancing across… SHIT. Those were definitely footsteps and they were moving fast.

"Robin," Batman muttered and the kiss turned seamlessly into a fight. Catwoman's foot slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards. He threw a series of punches, catching her on the shoulder and giving himself a chance to refocus. When his sidekick threw the door to the roof open, Batman was sure there wasn't any sign of their… previous engagement.

"That's my cue, boys," Catwoman announced boldly. With a flick of her wrist, she uncoiled the whip around her waist and cracked it in the air. She lashed out and wrapped it around a stone gargoyle, swinging through the air onto another roof and landing with a roll.

"You're not getting away!" Robin shouted and Batman suddenly felt exhausted. Robin's grappling line fired and he disappeared off the rooftop. Batman pulled out his own grappling gun and followed the two of them, far enough behind that Catwoman wouldn't be tempted to stick around. Robin already saw too much of their… altercations. For all of their sakes, he didn't need to see any more.

Robin had caught up to Catwoman and the two of them were sparring on a rooftop. Catwoman spun out of the way and caught Batman's eye as she stood up. She winked and nodded at the edge of the building just as Robin charged towards her.

No. She wasn't about to… Damn that woman.

"Selina," Batman growled as he fired his grappling line and shot through the air in time to catch Robin mid free-fall. Batman dropped to the ground and put Robin down, fighting the urge to rub his temples as Robin immediately tried to charge after her.

"She's not getting away!" Robin shouted, already trying to scale the building and resume the chase.

"Robin, she's gone."

"We can't just let her go, Batman!"

"She'll be back."

"Are you kidding me?! She just threw me off the roof and you want to let her go?!"

"Yes," Batman graveled, "We recovered the jewels and you have school tomorrow. It's not worth going after her now."

Robin gave him a look of pure frustration before turning away.

He muttered something that sounded like, "I'll give you a freebie, yeah right."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Dick Grayson

The Batcave

Friday, April 20th, 2009

"Aquaman. Thank you for coming on such short notice," Batman holds out his hand and the King of Atlantis shakes it firmly.

"Absolutely. It was the least I could do," Aquaman responds, nodding his head solemnly. Hiding in the stalactites behind the trophy cases, I can't tear my eyes away from the man dressed in ceremonial garments that look like something from another universe. I've never seen Aquaman before, but he's so cool! He's an actual king! He even has a crown and everything! Plus, he can talk to sea creatures and has super strength and can breathe underwater!

Aquaman clears his throat and looks pointedly at Batman.

"I trust your protégée is… here?" he asks uncertainly. Batman nods, a slight smirk on his face.

"Robin, you can come down now."

Busted.

I drop down from the stalactite, take two steps on top the trophy case and launch myself in the air. I flip three times and roll when I hit the ground. Then I bounce up next to my mentor with a huge grin on my face. My mouth drops open and suddenly I'm staring. I didn't notice him before, but there's someone standing next to Aquaman. He's way taller than me, with dark skin, short blonde hair and tattoos on his arms and … gills?! He smiles shyly and I smile back before looking at Batman, startled. When he said Aquaman was coming over for a business deal with Bruce Wayne, he never mentioned that anyone else was coming too.

"Aquaman, this is Robin," Batman introduces before I say anything awkward like, 'I think your fish powers are awesome!'

Aquaman smiles and holds out his hand. I shake it, beaming with excitement that I'm actually meeting the King of Atlantis!

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Robin. I've heard very impressive things about you," he releases my hand firmly and gestures to the teenager at his side, "I'd like to introduce both of you to my protégée, Kaldur'ahm."

Batman shakes his hand and I think I'm going crazy because he's actually smiling. Batman NEVER does that in front of other league members. Then, Batman pulls his cowl back so that Bruce Wayne is standing in the Batcave with Atlantean Royalty. My heart stops for a second. He must really trust Aquaman to reveal our secret ID's so soon. Hesitantly, I pull my mask off too, then tuck it in my utility belt. Bruce gestures to the stairs leading up to the manor.

"Shall we?" he suggests.

When we get to the study, Bruce turns to me, "We have a few hours before the broadcast. Why don't you go show Kaldur'ahm around?"

Aquaman nods at his protégée, and then follows Bruce out of the room. I smile at Kaldur'ahm.

"Are those really gills?" I ask. He cocks his head to the side and nods slowly.

With genuine curiosity, he asks, "What else would they be?"

I grin sheepishly, "Sorry. Bruce says that I need to stop asking people annoying questions."

Kaldur'ahm smiles, "King Orin says that I am not inquisitive enough."

"Great! So we're a perfect match. I'll talk and you can tell me when to can it."

"Can what?" he asks.

"I have no idea. Nobody will tell me what the 'it' is. They all pretend to know, but I don't really think they do," I pause for a second, but Kaldur'ahm is still listening attentively, "It's so stupid the way that people use expressions that they have no clue what they actually mean and then pretend it means something else."

"It's the same in Atlantis," Kaldur'ahm tells me, "A common expression is 'In every oyster there is a pearl,' which is used to say that you should look for opportunity. But pearls are actually a great inconvenience for oysters, and they get very offended if they hear that phrase."

"Can you talk to oysters too?" I ask excitedly. He starts to shake his head, then stops himself.

"Well... not on my own. But there are spells taught at the conservatory that can allow you to understand other creatures."

"That's awesome!"

"What are your powers?" he asks. I grin at him.

"I don't have any."

"What? But I saw you fly a few minutes ago."

I shake my head.

"That's not flying. That's flipping. It's just acrobatics and body movements. Anyone can do it."

"I do not think so. I have been on the surface for several months now, and I have never seen anyone move in this way."

I shrug, "It's a very specific skillset. Most people can't do any acrobatics, but gymnasts can and cheerleaders and contortionists kind of can."

"That's very impressive. I do not completely understand surface um… psychics yet."

"You mean physics?"

Kaldur'ahm looks embarrassed.

"I believe so. I apologize. English is difficult for me."

"I know!" I exclaim, "It sucks! There's no consistency in conjugations, verb tenses make no sense, pronunciation is a total mess and there is no acceptable reason why xylophone starts with an x!"

"It's not my first language either," I add when he starts to look confused, "I spoke a lot of different languages with my parents growing up. Everyone in the circus speaks English, but most people spoke Spanish, French, German and Italian. And I still remember a little Polish and Turkish. Then the circus moved to the US, so we all started speaking English."

"That must be very difficult to keep straight," he replies.

I shrug, "I guess. I really like languages though. I like to make up words and new expressions. I did it a bunch by mixing languages when I was little, but nobody else speaks so many around here so they can't understand it."

Kaldur'ahm nods, looking sad, "The surface world is beyond anything I had ever imagined, but I do miss Atlantis. King Orin insists that we speak English while we are here."

"Do you guys live on the surface now?"

"No. We have been splitting time between this world and Atlantis, but this has been the longest I've been away. I find I am… homesick."

"And nobody else here speaks Atlantean?"

He shakes his head.

"Could you teach me some?"

"You would want to learn it?"

"Yeah! I told you, I love languages! It'll be like our secret code. Nobody will know what we're saying."

"King Orin will know."

"Nope! Because you're going to learn some surface languages too! We'll make a new omni-language!"

"I would really like that!" Kaldur'ahm beams.

"C'mon! Let's go up to my room," I say before bounding out of the room, "Race you!"

"You will not win!" Kaldur'ahm shouts suddenly, taking off behind me. We're neck and neck going up the stairs, but he's too fast for me to beat. He pulls ahead as we round the landing, and then it's a battle for the home stretch down the East Wing. I launch myself towards the oak double doors that lead to Bruce's suite, but it's not enough. Kaldur'ahm beats me by a quarter second. I look up at him from where I flopped gracelessly on the ground after my failed dive-roll, then I stick out my tongue.

Kaldur'ahm begins to laugh, chest heaving as he takes in air. I laugh too, my hair sticking up everywhere and my arms tangled in my cape. He reaches down and offers me a hand to help me up.

"Good race, Robin."

"Good race Kaldur'ahm."

"Please, my friends call me Kaldur."

I grin and hold out my hand in the pretentious way Bruce always does at fancy parties, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kaldur. My name is Dick Grayson."

Kaldur does a perfectly executed half bow, and shakes my hand in exactly the proper way, "The honor is mine."

Snickering, I lead him to my room and toss a pile of notebook paper and a few dictionaries on the desk. I've got French, Spanish, German and Ukranian, plus there's like fifty more in the library on the first floor that we can grab if we need them. Then I stretch and do a handstand, feeling the blood rush back to my head.

"So you're Aquaman's partner now?"

Kaldur nods, "My king offered me the position after I helped defend Poseidonis from Ocean Master's attack."

"That's awesome! What's your codename? Have you met any of the other heroes yet?"

"I go by Aqualad. I was briefly introduced to Superman, but I have not yet met any others."

"You're going to love Wally and Roy! They're the other sidekicks, and they're so awesome! We get to patrol together sometimes. You should come!"

"I would like that," Kaldur smiles, "But I am curious to learn some of these other tongues."

A smile spreads itself across my face, "Sure! Let's get started!"

We start with basic phrases like "Hello," "How are you?" "I'm good" and "Do you have any food?" in each language I can remember off the top of my head. I have to correct his pronunciation a little bit at first, but Kaldur picks it up really fast. He's really got an ear for sound. We move into more conversational phrases and by the time Alfred comes in with a plate of freshly baked cookies, we've managed to have an entire conversation switching between Ukrainian, English and Spanish. It's a little slow and very basic, but Kaldur absorbs all the vocabulary like it's air. Or water.

"Would either of you care for some chocolate chip cookies?" Alfred questions during a break in the conversation.

"Yes please!" I cheer in Espantean (the mix of Spanish and Atlantean Kaldur invented) and Alfred raises an eyebrow.

"Should I assume that means yes?"

"That would be most kind, thank you," Kaldur says in English, looking sheepish. Alfred smiles.

"Well, you are most welcome, young man. Unfortunately, I must insist that food stays in the kitchen and dining rooms, if you would both come downstairs."

"When's the broadcast starting?" I ask as we follow Alfred down the stairs.

"Any minute now, if I'm not mistaken. Would you like me to turn it on?"

"If you don't mind," Kaldur says formally. Alfred smiles at him and I giggle at the look on his face. It's probably been at least a decade since there was somebody as polite and proper as Alfred in the house. Not even Bruce in his best "Crown Prince of Gotham Society" act comes close to Kaldur's sincerity.

"Your home is beautiful. I don't believe even the museums in Atlantis have such a display," Kaldur says in awe as we pass through the art-lined hallways leading to the kitchen. I know how he feels. I prefer my bedroom and the game room to any of the old Wayne Manor stuff. But Alfred beams and starts telling him about Bruce's grandpa's love of the Old Masters of art and his friendship with an art dealer back in the 1920's and Kaldur looks absolutely amazed. He'll have to come over and hang out more. Anyone who makes Alfred look that happy deserves cookies all the time.

When we reach the kitchen, Alfred lays out a massive plate of my favorite raspberry chocolate chip cookies and pours two glasses of a banana smoothie from the blender. Kaldur and I sit together at the table and Alfred turns on the local news.

"Citizens of Gotham, I am Orin, King of Atlantis. It is a great honor to stand before you on this historic day," Aquaman begins his speech, standing behind a wooden podium on a stage decorated with flags. The flag of Atlantis hangs above his head, and the blue and green lines shine brightly on the tv screen.

Kaldur slurps at his banana smoothie and I reach for another cookie.

"He looks so royal," I say, more than a little awe-struck.

"My king is a great leader," Kaldur answers, "Although it is strange to see him from afar… to not be at his side after all this time seems… wrong."

"Yeah. It's so weird seeing Bruce on tv. Because it's him, but he's kind of just putting on a performance. All the people watching feel like they know him, but it's not really him at all and it's just weird. Even if he's been doing it longer than I've lived with him."

Kaldur is quiet for a second, then he smiles at me.

"It is nice to see people as they are."

I grin back at him.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Gotham City

Sunday, May 13th, 2009

"They're coming your way," Batman tells me over the comm link.

"Got it," I answer, pulling my grappling hook out of my utility belt and hooking it around the sixth-floor fire escape I've been waiting on since Batman entered the apartment building. The alley below is pretty narrow, only five feet separating this building from the next one.

We were in Midtown closing in on a lead about a warehouse fire Batman has been working on for months when the alarm at Barney's went off. When we got there, we found nothing… until we got to the fifth floor and there was a gaping hole in the ceiling that led up to the private residences above the store. Apparently, a well-known collector lived in one of the apartments and had an impressive collection that tempted these very professional blowy-uppy-happy thieves. So instead of taking them in mid-heist, Batman sent me outside to the fire escape to head them off.

And that's where I am now. Sure enough, the thieves burst through the service door on the ground floor of the Barney's.

"That way!" the thief shouts at his friend.

"This way?" I ask, dropping down in front of them.

"Shit! It's Robin!"

"Hi!" I grin, "Any chance I can grab that from you?"

I point to the bag hanging off the taller one's shoulder, and they stare at me, completely dumbfounded.

"Alright," I shrug, and before they can come up with some brilliant move like trying to punch me, I throw a batarang that cuts through the strap. The stolen Beanie Babies spill out of the bag when they hit the ground but they're plushies. They'll be fine. The real question is why anybody would pay $30,000 for a Beanie Baby. Or why these dummies decided that breaking into a collector's house in the middle of the night was a good idea because seriously; who's going to pay money for stolen Beanie Babies?

The thieves shout and scramble to try to pick them back up when a low voice growls through the darkness.

"Don't."

Batman steps out of the shadows and the robbers do the first smart thing they've done all night. They drop the Beanie Babies and put their hands up. Two pairs of bat-cuffs and one call to the GCPD later, Batman and I are standing on the third-floor balcony of the high rise waiting for the cops to show up so we can wrap up patrol for the night.

"Beanie Babies?" I ask for the sixth time.

"Yes."

"But… they're stuffed animals! Anyone with a sewing machine and a little bit of stuffing can make one."

"They're a collector's item."

"Obviously, that collector wouldn't have had so many if they weren't. I get diamonds, or gold or clothes being worth so much, but Beanie Babies?"

"Not my personal choice, but I doubt spending your money on Bat-related crime fighting paraphernalia is on everybody's wish list."

I laugh and the corner of Batman's lip twitches up. It's the closest he gets to a smile in costume.

"Police are here. Time to go," he says.

"Race you to the Batmobile!" I call, already swinging from my Batline. Luckily, the Batmobile is close. We always try to finish patrol near where we started, and this way, my arms aren't going to get tired before I make it back. Before Batman. Somehow, he still manages to pull ahead of me, swinging down to the street and dropping down in front of the Batmobile. I drop down behind him.

Then my mouth drops. The Batmobile is missing its two front tires and a guy in a dark red hoodie is working on a third one. He looks up. There's a moment of silence, where he stares at us and we stare back. He's carjacking the Batmobile. He's in the middle of carjacking the BATMOBILE!

The thief drops his lug wrench and bolts down the alley. Batman and I burst after him, Batman on the ground while I pull out my grappling gun and swing from balconies and streetlights. We're closing in on him, trying to box him into a corner. As he runs, he pushes garbage cans and packing crates in the way. Batman slows down to avoid getting hit by a flying trash lid and the thief ducks between two slates boarding up a warehouse door. It's a tiny space to fit through and that's another blaring alarm that something's wrong with this.

What kind of person steals the tires off the Batmobile?! Nobody's crazy enough to try that!

I scramble through the hole after him, leaving Batman to try to find another way in. The thief's hoodie falls off as he runs. The warehouse is a maze of shipping crates and wooden pallets, but I flip to the top of one and sprint across the tops, cutting off the thief. He spins around in a clumsy fighting stance. My mouth drops open again.

It's a kid. He looks even younger than I am!

"Leave me the hell alone!" He shouts, raising his fists like we're about to throw down.

This kid stole the tires off the Batmobile?! Those things weigh forty pounds each! What the hell?! How?! Why would he try something so stupid?!

The shock and adrenaline from the chase are wearing off, and up close, the kid looks pretty rough. He could use some food, a long shower and an even longer nap. I raise my hands to show him I'm not armed.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Robin."

The kid snorts, "No duh."

"I mean, I'm one of the good guys. I just want to know what you're doing."

The kid freezes for a second before throwing his head back and snarling, "Why do you give a fuck?"

I shrug and try a different tactic.

"Okay. Let's start with this. What's your name?"

"Fuck you."

I can't help myself from grinning, "That's a cool name. How do you spell it?"

The kid glares at me, his eyes darting around the space while he looks for a way out. He glances at the boarded-up doorway and the walls of crates surrounding us, then back at the ground.

"You know, this will go a lot faster if you actually bother to answer."

"What, so I don't inconvenience you while you're dragging me off to juvie?"

I blink.

"Juvie? Look, Fuck You, we just spent all night chasing dead leads around the entire city, some guys almost blew up half a block for a pile of beanie babies, and at this point I just want to get home. I have school tomorrow. So, if the faster you give us our tires back, the faster we can leave you alone."

The kid freezes, caught in some impossible decision before he kicks at the ground and mutters something under his breath.

"What?" I ask.

"It's Jason."

"Cool. I'm Robin," I hold out my hand for him to shake but he ignores it.

"I know," Jason glares at me. He draws himself up and says, "The tires are behind the building. There's a yard and a hole in the fence."

He tries to push past me and slip away. I step in front of him before he can pass through the crates, blocking his exit.

"Why did you steal them?"

"Hey, leave me alone! You said I could go if I told you where they were."

"No, I said this would go faster if you answered my questions."

"You don't scare me. I don't have to tell you anything!"

I grin at him reassuringly, watching his confidence waver. I don't want him to be scared. I want answers.

"I'm not supposed to be scary. That's Batman's job. My job is to ask a million questions and annoy people into telling the truth."

Jason tries to push past me again, but I hold my ground. He lets out a frustrated yell and growls, "Fine! I needed the money! Happy?!"

I pause. He's four inches shorter than me and he's got to be at least two years younger than me. He shouldn't be stealing tires for money, let alone be on the streets at one in the morning on a school night.

"Where are your parents, Jason? They're probably pretty worried about you."

Jason is quiet for a long time and I wait through the silence. He finally hisses, "They're gone. Mom… they're gone."

"I'm sorry."

I decide to take the risk and move closer to him, "My parents are gone too."

Jason looks up at me in total confusion, "But what about Batman?"

"Batman's not my real dad. He just helped me find a new home."

"Really? Batman?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yeah. You know, he might even help you too, if you want."

"I'm not going to an orphanage! Or a foster home. I hate them."

"Some of them aren't so bad. You just have to find the right one."

"I don't need your help."

That's definitely a lie but I don't want to scare him off. So, I nod seriously and sit on a nearby crate. Jason eyes the gap, but doesn't try to make a break for it.

"What do you want then?"

"What?"

"You said you want money, which is why you stole the tires. You took a big risk taking the tires off the Batmobile, so that means you already have somewhere to sell them. But you probably can't get a lot of money from that place since you needed to take the risk at all. Well, you made a really good effort. Seriously, you must be crazy strong to lift those things. It just didn't work out."

"So?"

"So, what do you want to happen next?"

Jason scowls at me, "I want you to take your stupid tires and leave me the fuck alone."

"Sure, that sounds good. We put the tires back on the Batmobile, head back to the Batcave, and you go back to… living on the streets, right?"

Jason's scowl deepens and I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. But then I remember I have a mask on, so I roll my eyes anyway.

"Alright, say we do that. What happens to you after that? There's not that many jobs available to homeless nine-year-olds, so taking tires isn't going to be a one-time thing. Best case, you steal just enough to get by, nobody notices. But say you get picked up by the cops or someone isn't quite so forgiving about having their tires stolen? Juvie is the best possible outcome."

Jason's still glaring at me, but there's real fear in his eyes and he's starting to sweat.

"Or… I can give you another suggestion. Cooperate with us. Help us get the tires back on the Batmobile, and give Batman honest answers to the questions he's going to ask you. Then, we'll help you find somewhere more permanent."

"I told you, I'm not going to another shitty foster home!"

I take a deep breath.

"Look, Jason… we're more alike than you think. I know what you're feeling right now. You don't want to go to juvie, and I'm sure you've had more than your fair share of crappy foster homes. But I've been there. When my parents died, they didn't have room for an orphaned circus brat, so one of my case workers decided it would be fine to just stick me wherever there was room. If Batman hadn't helped my foster dad track me down, I would probably still be where they left me. So yeah, I get why you're afraid and I can promise you, juvie sucks even worse that you can imagine."

"What?! You were in juvie?"

"Yeah. A week after I turned eight."

"But you… you're… why?"

"Everywhere else was full and my social worker didn't care if another kid slipped through the cracks. Nobody stopped him. Nobody noticed."

Jason meets my eyes and I can almost see the wheels turning in his brain.

"I promise, when I tell you that Batman can help you, I'm telling you from experience. He's the one who'll help you when no one else cares."

Jason hesitates.

"A—and he won't be mad about the tires?"

"Not as long as you put them back," Batman says. Jason jumps a foot in the air.

"What the hell?!"

"Watch your language," Batman says firmly, channeling Bruce so hard I think I'm seeing double. This isn't Batman… this is full on Bat-dad.

"He doesn't let me swear either," I tell Jason with a grin, moving back to give him a little more space to the sides now that Batman is covering the exit. But Batman doesn't say anything, or try to take over the conversation. Instead, he crosses his arms patiently and waits for me to continue.

"Well?!" Jason demands, pacing the small space nervously, "What are you waiting for?"

"We're waiting for you to decide," I say, "What do you want?"

Jason looks back and forth between me, Batman and the blocked escape route, "I… how do I know you're not going to just throw me in some shithole and walk away?"

He's scared and it's impossible to blame him. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"I'll stay with you. I'll go with you to the police station, and I'll wait with you while Batman makes the arrangements with the foster home and Child Services. I'll even go with you to your foster home and stay until you feel safe."

"Wait… really?"

I nod, "I told you, I'm not letting anyone else go through the same thing I did. I'll stay with you as long as you need."

"What if I hate it?" he shoots back.

"Then we'll try again until you find one you don't hate," I shrug.

Jason looks at the ground, thinking hard. Finally, he looks up and nods.

Jason squirms on the bench, watching an officer sort through the stack of papers Batman filled out before he left.

"It's going to be fine," I tell him.

"Not that," he grumbles, "I just… don't like it here."

Looking around the police station, I don't blame him. The roof of the Gotham City Police Department is way nicer than the inside and I forgot just how strong the smell of caffeine and sweat is. Plus, I don't have to worry about CPS coming after me or trying to send me back to a foster family that I hate.

"It shouldn't be much longer. Batman has already made some calls, and once he gets the paperwork streamlined, the foster should be here soon."

"You don't know who he's getting, do you?"

I frown, "You've been with me the whole time. He hasn't told me anything yet. But I trust him."

Jason leans back in his chair and pulls his arms tightly around himself.

"Must be nice," he mutters.

"Why don't we talk about something else?" I offer, "Do you like any sports?"

"I play soccer sometimes. Jacob and Arvene are always playing pickup at Fred Wolfe Park."

"Would you ever want to join a team?"

Jason shrugs, "I can't… I mean, I couldn't before. I guess it would be fun."

"There are some great rec leagues. Memorial Park just put in a brand-new field."

Jason is quiet.

"Do you play any sports?" he asks.

"I fight crime. That's sort of the only extracurricular I have time for."

"So… what you're saying is I could probably kick your ass on the field?"

I snort, "You wish."

"What, are you scared?"

"Please, I'm not scared of Batman, you think I'm going to be afraid to lose to a nine-year-old?"

"You're not scared of Batman?" Jason asks curiously. I shake my head.

"Nope. He acts all tough, but he's really just a giant nerd. You think they call him the World's Greatest Detective because he runs around punching evil clowns?"

Jason snorts and I grin back at him. There's a commotion at the front suddenly as all the officers stand up and start whispering to each other. Jason looks around nervously and I crane my neck to try to see. Someone just came into the precinct, and by the sound of it, it's someone important.

Ugh.

Why couldn't Batman have just told me who he was going to send? I wish I could tell Jason who it is, but I have no clue either. I watch the captain leave his office to come personally greet the new visitor, but I can't see who it is until she leads him to a private room. Then my jaw drops open.

Bruce?!

What the hell?!

I knew Batman would find somewhere safe for Jason, but I didn't think for a second that he would be the one to take Jason in himself. And why didn't he tell me?!

"Jason?" One of the desk officers comes over, "Are you ready to meet your new foster dad?"

Jason glances at me quickly, and I can see that his nerves have just jumped a thousand percent. Clearly, he's seen Bruce in the news before.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" I offer. He thinks for a second, but then shakes his head and lets the officer lead him into the room that Bruce is waiting in. I watch them go, mind racing a million miles an hour.

When the hell did Bruce decide he wanted to foster Jason? Will Jason be okay with it? I wasn't exactly crazy about Bruce the first time I met him. And living with him before I knew he was Batman? He was weird and distant and I always felt so alone. If it hadn't been for Alfred, I don't know if I would have even stuck around. Of course, after I snuck out to hunt down Zucco, everything changed. It was like a switch had flipped. Batman is an incredible mentor, and the closer I got to him, the closer I got to Bruce. Now, I can't imagine not having him as my… mentor? Foster dad? And what's going to happen with our secret identities? Is Bruce planning to just keep them a secret from Jason? That's not fair to him, and I don't think I can do it either. And is Jason going to want a foster brother? He might like me as Robin, but I've never had a brother before and he hasn't either. What if I'm awful at it and he hates me?

Someone sits next to me, breaking me out of my thoughts. I jump when I realize who it is.

"Alfred?!"

Alfred smiles at me and winks, "Good to see you again, Mister Robin."

"Did you know Bruce was planning this?" I whisper. Luckily, none of the police officers care much about the sidekick and driver might be chatting about.

"I'm afraid Master Bruce has a rather unfortunate tendency of not sharing information with me, much as Batman appears to have kept you in the dark."

I snort.

"I bet they'd get along really well."

"I rather think not," Alfred answers loftily, "Master Bruce is hardly one for theatricality. You would never catch him running around in one of those ridiculous outfits."

I burst out laughing, and after a second Alfred's mask slips and he joins me. One of the sergeants looks over, but goes back to his paperwork. When we calm down, I take a deep breath.

"Do you think this is a bad idea?"

Alfred thinks for a minute.

"To be perfectly frank, I have absolutely no idea," he looks around the precinct, then says, "I had more than my fair share of doubts when he announced his intentions to foster Master Dick, but I daresay that decision has been more rewarding than I thought possible for all parties involved."

I grin at him and the only thing keeping me from hugging him is the fact that I'm still in uniform. Alfred smiles sincerely and continues.

"I believe there is a chance that the outcome may be similar in this case."

The next forty minutes pass slowly. Alfred makes small talk and I try not to yawn, but for once, he doesn't say anything about me being up so late. When the door finally opens, we both look up in anticipation. Bruce looks determined, and Jason looks completely dazed. Bruce leads him over to where Alfred and I are sitting.

"Jason, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He's been working for my family since I was a kid."

Alfred stands up and shakes his hand firmly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jason."

"You too…" Jason says slowly, still in shock.

"I believe Master Bruce has a bit more paperwork to deal with here, but I would be more than happy to take you to the manor. I imagine you've had quite a day."

Jason immediately looks at me, "Is he coming?"

"Yes," I say before either of them can answer, "I promised I'd stay with you until you were ready."

"Very well," Alfred says, retrieving his coat from the chair, "Master Bruce, I will be back when you have finished."

"Thank you, Alfred. Robin, always an honor to see you," I blush. The corner of Bruce's lip twitches up and I know he's teasing me, "Jason, I shouldn't be here too long. I'll see you soon. Okay?"

Jason nods like he barely knows what's happening, "Okay."

"Shall we?" Alfred asks, leading the way to the door. Jason looks around the precinct one last time, his eyes always coming back to Bruce. Then he looks at me, and I smile reassuringly. He nods and follows Alfred out the door. I glance back at Bruce, looking for some sort of clue about what I should be doing, but he just smiles. It's not part of his vapid playboy act. He just genuinely looks happy… and really nervous. Maybe he doesn't know what he's doing either.

I hurry out the door before Jason thinks I abandoned him.

"You drive a limo?!" Jason shouts as I approach. Alfred chuckles and opens the door for him. Jason sits in stunned silence the entire ride home, except to turn to me and ask, "Am I on drugs?" at least fifteen times. I try not to laugh at him, but it's close. When Alfred finally pulls into the long driveway and the manor comes into view, Jason's jaw drops.

"You live here?!"

"Indeed, we do, Master Jason."

"Is… is he kidding?" Jason turns to me. I grin at his stunned expression.

"About living here?"

"Uh…Master Jason?" Jason says.

"No, that's really a thing he does."

The car pulls to a smooth stop, and Jason and I climb out. He can't stop staring. He looks exactly the same way I did the first time I saw the manor.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," I tell him. Alfred leads us inside and Jason takes one look around before his face turns pale. So, instead of overwhelming him any more than he already is by giving him the grand tour, Alfred takes us straight to the kitchen and pushes a mug of hot chocolate at each of us. The three of us sit around the counter and listen while Alfred tells us stories about his life in England. He's halfway through the story about how his Uncle George accidentally got himself engaged to a duchess when my communicator beeps.

"Do you have to go?" Jason asks me, immediately on the defensive. I look down at the message.

"In study. Bring Jason."

"Batman wants me to see something in the… Mr. Wayne's study," I say, looking at Alfred for cues. Alfred straightens and claps his hands together.

"Ah, of course. Jason, you may as well come along. I'm sure you'd love to see more of the house, and I believe Master Bruce will be arriving shortly."

Alfred leads the way, and Jason follows close behind. I chug the rest of my hot chocolate and run after them.

Bruce isn't in his study. Shocker.

Jason is looking around cautiously, and Alfred is going through the piles on Bruce's desk as if looking for the mysterious thing Bruce Wayne told Batman that he would show me. I glance down at my communicator, but then I hear something moving. It's the elevator to the Batcave. Alfred must hear it too because he lets out a huge sigh.

"Jason, I believe there is something immensely important you must know."

"What?"

"Master Bruce tends to be infuriatingly dramatic."

And then the hidden door slides open, revealing Batman standing in the entrance to the Batcave.

"AWESOME!"

Chapter Text

Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012

Wayne Manor

Dick Grayson

"Ready or not, here I come!"

I pull my hands away from my eyes, scanning around the clearing. I hear giggles coming from within the trees and I sneak forward slowly. For a bunch of little kids with no classical ninja training, they're really good at hiding. Except Cassie, who actually has ninja training, but she's five so it doesn't really count. Or it wouldn't, except for the fact that she's disturbingly good at hide-and-go-seek.

Uh-oh.

Looking around, I see a tuft of black in the bushes next to an abstract stone gargoyle statue. It's got to be Tim. I walk forwards, trying to get a better glimpse of him without giving it away that I found him. Sure enough, my nine-year-old brother is crouched on his knees, peeking between layers of rhododendrons and other assorted shrubbery. I see him convulse with silent laughter. Someone must be making faces at him. I turn around, looking carefully for the telltale blonde hair. Peeking out from underneath a half-buried log is my eight-year-old sister… who is currently sticking her tongue out at me and wiggling fingers around mockingly.

Well, that was easy.

"Stephanie, I see you under the log. Tim, you're under the gargoyle," I announce, tagging them out at the same time. Tim pushes his way through the bushes, happily laughing out loud now that he's out. Stephanie wiggles her way out from underneath the log in a show of flexibility that really shouldn't be possible. Her front is covered in dirt and her fingernails are black from the mud caked underneath them.

"You're never gonna find Cassie!" she giggles.

She's right.

For the next twenty minutes, I search every crawlspace and corner while Tim and Stephanie laugh at me, but I can't find her. Jason is hanging out on a lounge chair and offering helpful suggestions like, "give up!" or "Not even close!" every few minutes. I'd throw my shoe at him but it would just make it worse, and I refuse to let him distract me from finding Cassie. It's only when she decides she's bored that she drops down onto my head from her perch in a tree.

"I win!" she giggles, grabbing at my arms as I lift her off my shoulders. It's her favorite phrase.

"I told her where to hide," Jason slurps at his lemonade, raising the glass at me smugly. He leans back, hands tucked behind his head.

"Taking credit for Cassie's greatness so you can feel better about yourself? I expected better from you," I shake my head at him in shame. Suddenly, Tim lets out a piercing shriek and sprints across the yard. Steph chases after him gleefully, the garden hose clamped in her hands spraying water in a wide arc. The dirt caked all over her clothes has been transformed into thick, goopy mud, but she doesn't care.

"Get him!" she shouts and Jason suddenly has a water gun in his hands. I shift Cassie so she's balanced against my side and turn to face Jason.

"Where did you get that?! You know Bruce hates water guns!"

As an answer, Jason sprays me in the face with water and runs off, cackling evilly. Cassie shrieks with laughter and cheers while I rub the water out of my eyes.

"Go go go!" she giggles, pointing at Steph and Tim.

"We need better weapons," I tell her, moving slowly towards the garden shed across from the gargoyle statue. Jason and Steph have teamed up, trapping a soaking wet Tim between the hose and the water gun. Tim is laughing like a maniac as he dodges streams of water from both sides.

"No!" Cassie whines.

"You can go run around with them," I tease, "But if you want to win, you gotta think bigger."

Cassie thinks very hard, then nods seriously.

"We win," she says finally.

The garden shed is rarely used, but Bruce hires people to groom and manicure the lawns before big events, so it's pretty well stocked. I grab a huge water bucket and fill it slowly from the tap sticking out the side of the wall. I raise Cassie up so she can clamber onto the roof, and hanging the bucket over my right shoulder, I climb up the shed with just a small twinge of soreness near the top. The roof is partially flat, so I set the bucket down and grin at Cassie.

"Okay, it's show time. You have to distract them and lead them over here. Then I'll dump the bucket when you tell me. What do you think?"

Cassie lets out a peal of laughter, putting her chubby hands over her mouth and twisting from side to side adorably. I let out a cackle, then lean over the side to lower her gently to the ground. Cassie runs off. I lay low on the roof, waiting carefully for Cassie's signal.

"Now!"

I dump the bucket over the side and Jason, Steph and Tim let out matching screams as gallons of ice-cold water crash onto their heads. Cassie laughs so hard she falls onto her bottom, then she just laughs harder.

"Get him!" Jason shouts, and the three of them take aim at the roof, "Tim, grab the bucket! I'll go around!"

Steph aims the hose, waving it back and forth in the air so a steady stream of water rains down on me. I cackle as I get pelted by the freezing water, then take two steps and launch myself carefully off the roof. I roll when I land just outside of Jason's reach. Then I start running, with all four of my siblings chasing after me. I sprint to the back door of the manor, where I stop short before colliding headfirst with Bruce. He's wearing a casual suit and setting down a brown shopping bag. In contrast, I'm soaking wet, barefoot, covered in mud and my hair is sticking up everywhere.

"What's the rush?" he teases, taking in my soaked hair and clothes.

"Steph found the hose," I report, grinning widely, "I'm outnumbered, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"I see," his expression becomes mischievous, "Robin, maneuver N!"

His hands lock together in front of him, forming a hold for me to step on. He throws me up and I fly through the air, using the momentum to throw a double back flip and catch the two super soakers he pulls out of the bag and tosses at me. All this happens as my siblings all charge into view, soaking Bruce in a torrent of water before they realize it's not me. I turn and sprint for the garden shed as my siblings freeze in horror. Bruce shakes himself off, glaring at the four of them as they stammer out apologies. Meanwhile, I fill both of the super soakers and strategically place another bucket of water behind the shed to reload.

I run back over in time to hear, "And I don't EVER want to catch you playing with water guns again… without me!"

He signals to me and I throw him his weapon. He catches it in a practiced motion and we launch our attack in unison. They start screaming and laughing and firing back and running around.

"Fall back!" Tim yells.

"No! Stand and fight you cowards!" Steph screams as she sprays the hose with reckless abandon. Bruce and I fight back-to-back, but our plan of attack quickly falls apart when Jason charges in, throwing water balloons in every direction without caring who gets hit. Steph decides she's being too reserved with the hose and the attack turns into a torrential downpour.

"Watch the hose! I thought you were on our team!" Jason shouts.

"You watch it!" Steph shouts back, spraying Jason in the face. That's when it really turns into a free-for-all. Jason grabs the bucket and launches its contents at Stephanie, catching Cassie in the cross-fire. Cassie shrieks and runs to Bruce, who picks her up in one arm and helps her aim a Super Soaker in revenge. Cassie decides to shoot at Tim instead and Tim runs behind me for cover. We race each other for the Super Soakers and Steph drenches us with the hose while we're refilling. Cassie and Bruce chase Jason while he pelts them with water balloons and it's too good of a target to pass up.

In a once-in-a-lifetime moment, Bruce is too busy laughing to notice the Super Soaker aimed his way and I blast him in the face.

The next thing I know, Cassie jumps ship while Jason, Tim, Steph and I gang up on Bruce. He fights back, but his Super Soaker runs out of water and Jason made a ridiculous number of water balloons so between that, Tim and me firing our Super Soakers and Steph spraying the hose, Bruce is hopelessly outmatched. By the time Alfred comes out with a pitcher of lemonade and a platter of sandwiches, we're all drenched from head to toe. After trying and failing to get Alfred to join in the water fight, he convinces us to pile around the table on the patio and take a snack break.

"Have you thought about what you'd like to do tomorrow?" Bruce asks. He looks ridiculous with sopping wet hair plastered to the sides of his head.

"Picnic!" Cassie shouts, jumping up and down and sending water droplets flying. Jason grabs another sandwich off the platter and makes a face when Cassie splashes water on the

"Is there a fireworks show tomorrow?" Tim asks.

"I want fireworks!" Steph cheers.

"I want to become a member of the Justice League," I beam. Bruce nods at Steph and Tim like he didn't even hear me.

"I'll see what I can do about fireworks. Worst comes to worst, we can go to the Annual cookout the Laraby's throw."

"Bruce, come on! Can't you be a little excited for me?"

"Who said I'm not excited?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Are you?" I shoot back. When he doesn't answer, I throw my hands in the air, "Bruce, come on! I'm joining the Justice League! Why aren't you excited for me?"

"Why can't I come fight crime?" Jason demands, interrupting Bruce when he starts to answer.

"Because it's dangerous."

"So why does Dick get to?"

"Because he has six years of self-defense training and he can keep himself safe in dangerous situations."

"Well, Dick didn't have any training when he started and I've been taking self-defense classes for two years now!"

"Jason, you know the rule. I can only handle one partner at a time. When Robin is ready to work on his own in the field, then I'll think about taking on another partner. Deal?"

"Deal."

Friday, July 6th, 2012

Harris Auto Repair

When I pull my motorcycle to a stop inside the garage, Slade is supervising work on two old cars that are hoisted up in the air. Sparks fly and machines make loud, grating crashes, but the atmosphere is relaxed and classic rock plays in the background. This is so weird. At night, it's dark and creepy and it feels like a prop, something Slade uses as a disguise. But now, in the middle of the afternoon, it's a real place, filled with people who are just living their lives. They have no idea what's really going on below them. Slade is just using them for his cover.

"You're right on time. Good work."

Slade appears behind me suddenly and I spin around, trying to pretend that he didn't catch me totally off guard. I nod as calmly as I can, hoping he didn't notice. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes just enough to be uncomfortable.

"Don't think you fooled me with that. We need to work on your powers of observation."

Alright, so that was a long shot.

"Yes sir," I say sheepishly. Slade chuckles but the sound is muffled by the whirring of a radio arm saw. He inspects the cars for a final time and then pulls over one of the mechanics. She's tall with a ponytail of stringy brown hair and a greasy pair of overalls.

"Charlie, I want you to meet Sam. He's going to be helping me set up that electronic record system you were talking about."

Charlie's grin is friendly despite the crooked front teeth. She holds out an oily glove, "It's about time you finally listen to me, Harris. Nice to meet you, Sam."

That's when I realize "Sam" means me.

"—You too," I say, rushing to hold out my hand and hoping she doesn't notice the delay.

"Finish up these cars and get everyone out by six. I need to hear Sam explain this computer stuff to me and you know I can't hear for shit over the saws."

Charlie laughs, "You should get a hearing aid if it's getting that bad. It's no problem though. We should be able to finish with the Impala tomorrow."

"Good," Slade nods before leading me into the office. It's small. There's a table pushed up against one wall with a desktop computer and stacks of papers on either side. Filing cabinets cover the walls, and papers are stacked everywhere. There's a small door on the right-hand wall, just big enough to be a supply cabinet.

There's a plaque reading, "Alan Harris" on the desk. Slade's alias.

"You can see why we need the electronic records, huh?" Slade says conversationally as he moves behind the desk, "Would you mind shutting the door? It gets so loud in here."

"Uh…" I start, "Are we actually—"

"Maybe at some point."

He strides towards the plain wooden door on the back wall that looks like a closet. He slides a key into the lock and it opens smoothly, revealing a well-lit staircase leading down to his base. I rush to keep up with him as he climbs down the staircase to the metal door. Slade pauses long enough to punch in the code on the door panel before reaching for the thick silver handle. The walk down the twisting, ominous hallways that never makes any sense always makes me nervous. By the time we make it to the study, my heart is pounding furiously and my stomach is churning. Slade points to the folding chair in front of the small table against the wall. I sit without hesitation, waiting for Slade to start talking. My palms are sticky with sweat and I wipe them on my shorts.

"Up to this point, we have mainly focused on your physical abilities, especially combat. However, you've reached a point that you are ready to learn some other skills. One of the most essential things that you will need to know is how to code. I will expect you to become proficient at encrypting and decrypting sensitive information, maneuvering through firewalls, and accessing and disabling security systems. In the future, I will be teaching you more about robotics and the technology that I design and employ. I don't have time to teach you all of this myself. Because of this, I have brought in external assistance."

Slade picks up a laptop from his desk and opens it, typing for a few seconds before placing it in front of me. The screen is black expect for a light blue message at the top of the screen flashing, "Begin Session?"

"I have agreed not to disclose the identity of your new teacher, but rest assured, he is the one of the best hackers in the country, possibly in the world. He will teach you everything that you could possibly need to know."

I hesitate, not sure what the best way is to break it to him, "Uh, Slade?"

"What?" his answer is terse, like a coiled snake.

"I already know a lot about hacking. Batman has been teaching me for a while."

Slade grins, but not in a friendly way, "Then this should be easy for you."

He gestures to the screen, "Begin whenever you are ready. This session will last about an hour, and when you are done, we are finally going to work on your observational skills. Understood?"

I nod quickly, "Yes, sir."

I turn towards the laptop. A line flashes across the screen, waiting for a response. Hesitantly, I type, "Begin" and tap the enter key. The screen changes and turns black, with a small box in the upper right-hand corner that says, "Chat log."

A message appears in the chat box from someone named, "Orange_Soda."

"Hang on, gimme like 20 seconds."

I glance around the room, but Slade is gone and I'm not sure what to do. I lean back in the chair and stare at the screen. This is stupid. I already know how to hack. Bruce has been teaching me about computers since I was eight, and I've been coding on my own for years. I helped Bruce develop a new security system for the Batcave's computer network, and I've been working on a new operating system for my laptop at home.

"My bad, I'm back. Sorry about that."

I settle my fingers over the keys. I have no idea how to respond, so I type "ok."

"You don't like to talk much, do you? Hey, that's cool. I don't judge."

What's going on? I type into the chat bar and watch my question appear.

"Who are you?"

"I'm sorta trying to keep my ID out of this cause your boss is one scary dude, but all you need to know is I'm the best at what I do, bub."

I stare at the screen, running names of hackers Bruce has been keeping an eye on, but none of them fit the profile. Another message pops up.

"Aw, come on man! How can you not like Wolverine?"

"I don't read comics," I reply. Who is this guy?

"For real? Who doesn't read comics?"

Actual superheroes? I don't what to say to that so I just wait. Orange Soda seems to get the message.

"Let's just get started. Do you have any programming experience?"

"Yeah," I respond.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you? What languages are you comfortable with?"

"Python, Java, C++, SQL, html, CSS, Basic, Assembly"

"Damn, Assembly? That one's a monster."

"Yeah," One-word answers are working pretty well so far. No reason not to keep going.

"Any others?"

"Scratch."

"Very funny.

"Do you know anything about security systems?"

"I know how to find backdoors."

"That's a good place to start. You ready?"

After a pause, I shrug.

"Sure."

The screen splits in half. The bottom is still black, but the top now has an image of a file.

"Get the file open without tripping the system alerts. You have one hour."

Easy.

I try to open the file. Surprise, it asks for a password. I click the black space at the bottom of the screen and watch a line spring into existence in the command prompt window.

This might actually be fun.

"Nice work, kid. Definitely better than I was expecting."

"Thanks."

"We'll start with encryption keys next week. Hardison out."

"Don't you mean Orange Soda?"

"Nah, you seem cool. Call me Hardison. Don't tell your boss."

The screen turns black and reflects Slade standing behind me. I don't react when his hand reaches forwards to close the computer and return it to his desk.

"How did it go?"

"That guy knows a lot about computers," I answer, showing that he didn't catch me off guard. Slade pauses, watching me carefully.

"What's wrong?"

I frown.

"Nothing."

"You were enjoying yourself five minutes ago. What's wrong."

It doesn't sound like a question. It sounds like an order.

"You heard about the…" I pause, "The sidekicks being inducted into the League?"

Slade inclines his head but he doesn't say anything. The silence stretches out, filling the space with agonizing awkwardness.

Finally, I force out, "They lied to us."

"Did they now?" Slade manages to sound disinterested, but there's a weird tension in his stance that says otherwise. I shouldn't tell him this. But it's nothing he hasn't already guessed.

"They lied about everything. They told us we were joining the League! They told us that we'd been working hard and we'd earned it. Ugh! They were so full of shit—"

"Language, Richard," Slade interrupts warningly. I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes, but I correct myself anyways.

"…full of it, and I… we believed them. And now Speedy is gone and now we're stuck waiting for Batman to decide if we even get to have our own team."

"That wouldn't have had anything to do with Cadmus, would it?"

I stiffen.

"What do you know about Cadmus?"

Slade rolls his eye at me.

"Just that there were reports of a fire which was put out by Aqualad and Kid Flash, and presumably Robin. Then, several hours later, the entire building collapsed. It didn't take much to put two and two together."

"I guess. But we only went there because the League tried to leave us behind on a mission!"

"I take it the induction didn't go as well as you'd hoped?"

I snort.

"It wasn't an induction, it was a 'here's the waiting room now sit quietly and don't bother us. Oh yeah, not to mention that we've been lying to you about the actual headquarters being in space!'"

Slade's eye widens by a fraction of an inch. Oh shit. He definitely didn't know that. Shit, I was not supposed to say that.

"You can't tell anyone that!"

"I know our agreement," he reminds me calmly.

Oh yeah. He'll keep my secrets in exchange for… whatever he gets out of training me.

He's still waiting expectantly, in no hurry to move on. What the hell. It's not like I have anything to lose by telling him this. I slouch back against my chair and tug on my hair.

"That isn't the worst part either. All this time, everything I was working for, I thought I was making a difference. But he's been lying to me about… about everything! I thought the Hall was the League's real headquarters. I've been Robin for five years and he's never told me the truth! I've fought with all of them before and I've known them all since I was eight! I was the first sidekick and I deserve to be out there as much as any of them! There's nothing else I can do to prove that to them! And! Captain Marvel has only been a hero for like, eight months tops and they trust him!"

Slade snorts, shaking his head dismissively.

"From what I've seen, Captain Marvel has the powers of a god and the intelligence of a five-year-old. It seems bringing him into the League is more about keeping an eye on him than out of any so-called trust."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," I lie. Does Slade have any idea how close he is? Underneath the magic powers that transform him into an adult, Billy's the same age as Tim. There's no way he actually knows that, though.

"Personally, I believe that capability should speak for itself. If the League can't see what's really in front of them rather than what they believe to be, then they are more-so the fools."

My stomach clenches at his words. The sincerity in his voice makes the corners of my mouth rise in a hesitant smile but there's something that doesn't seem right about it. He wouldn't say anything just to make me feel better. Maybe it's the way he said, "fools," like he's so much smarter than all of them, like he'll always be ten steps ahead. Even though I might be mad at them, having Slade know all of their secrets while they don't even know he's watching just… freaks me out. I know a lot of secrets that aren't mine to give away. I can't let myself forget that.

"So, what will you do now?" he asks suddenly, startling me out of my thoughts.

"What? I told you, we're waiting for Batman to make a decision."

"Not about that. Now you know that the League has lied to you, you know that despite what they may say, they don't trust you. Regardless of what your mentor decides, that will not change the fact."

The protest on the tip of my tongue dies before I can open my mouth. He's right. They all lied to me. Every compliment any Leaguer has ever given me… they're all meaningless. I've seen the hidden looks and stifled giggles and I just ignored them, because I thought that underneath, they respected me. I thought at least Superman would be sincere, but after what happened at Cadmus, I don't really know what to think about him right now. But Aunt Diana? Wonder Woman?! If there was anyone on the planet I could trust no matter what, it would be her. I don't get it! Why didn't any of them tell me about the Watchtower? Why did Ollie have to tell Roy? Why did they lie to us at all? I don't get it!

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't give up being Robin, and I can't pull a Speedy and just go off on my own. He's eighteen and I haven't even started high school. And I couldn't walk away from Batman even if I was. But I just don't get it! Why didn't they tell us?"

"Because they don't trust you. You're a hyperactive thirteen-year-old who's incapable of following orders."

"No, I'm not," I growl, wincing when I hear how whiny it sounds.

"Regardless, that is how they see you."

"But that's not fair!"

"Do you really think anything is?"

"That's not the point! They lied to me and now they just expect me to ignore it! I can't!"

"So, what can you do?" Slade asks again. My hands curl into fists but it's not him that I'm mad at. I look at the ground and shrug.

"I don't know. If I make trouble, it'll just prove to them that they were right not to trust me. But if I just… ignore it, I don't know. That's easier said than done."

Slade doesn't say anything for a few seconds, then he shakes his head.

"There aren't any easy answers here. Focus instead on what you can do, here and now."

"Which is?"

"Train harder."

He gets up and leaves the office. I follow him to the end of the hallway and through the last door. The lights spring on to reveal the huge gym, complete with treadmills, weight machines, racks, and an enormous sparring mat that covers two-thirds of the floor.

"Catch."

I barely bring my hand up in time to stop the training sword from nailing me in the head. Slade shakes his head while I fumble with it.

"You'll have to do better than that."

"A little warning would have been nice!"

"You won't get a warning in live combat. You should know that by now or you have no business being out in the field."

"I know that!" I snap, getting into a defensive position with the wooden sword held out in front of me. Slade walks onto the training floor and raises his own sword, "But I don't expect people to randomly attack me at any second!"

"You should," he answers. I brace for the attack but he doesn't move, "Always be on guard. You might think there are places where you're safe, or people you can trust, but just remember, if you want to keep yourself and others safe you have to beat your opponent every single time."

My left knee gives out and the floor rushes up to slam into my back and the impact knocks the wind out of me. I never even saw Slade move. But he's leaning over me now, both of our training swords crossed over my neck with a little too much pressure.

"Someone who's trying to hurt you only has to beat you once."

My stomach clenches, but before I can think of anything to say, the swords are gone and he's helping me back to my feet. Slade hands me back my sword and as soon as I have it, I drop into a fighting stance except this time, I start moving. He's not knocking me off balance again.

"Better," Slade says.

I attack first this time, swinging at his chest. His sword blocks my strike and the rebound hurts my hands. Pressing against his sword for momentum, I spin and back-kick him in the stomach. Slade steps back and swings his sword straight down. A backwards roll carries me out of the way and I flip up onto my feet. Charging forwards, I slash out. When Slade dodges, I slam the end of my sword into the ground and launch myself into the air. I flip over Slade's head and extend my legs, kicking him between the shoulder blades. I land behind him and jab at his exposed back. Slade spins and knocks my strike away. He slashes at my head and I duck, pulling my sword across my body to block his foot before he can kick me in the face. I manage to hold on to the sword… barely. But the second his foot hits the ground his sword is swinging down and whacks me on the shoulder hard enough to make my arm go numb.

"Ow!" I jerk backwards, trying to widen the distance but Slade follows. Sword strikes followed by kicks and punches and no matter how many times I block or dodge, Slade always finds an opening.

"When fighting a superior opponent, you have to take advantage of openings when you find them. If you're only defending, you'll leave yourself vulnerable."

"You're not exactly giving me a lot to work with!" I shoot back, trying to block a strike while ducking under a kick from the other side.

Slade pulls his sword back and in the half-second before his next strike, I lunge at him, flipping my wrists over to slam the hilt of my sword into his chest. I twist the sword for a strike to his shoulder and follow with a side-kick. He stumbles back and we take a second to readjust our stances. We're both winded and sweat drips down my face. My palms are sweaty and I wipe them on my tank top.

"Much better," Slade praises, "Now let's see how you do against someone who's not holding back."

"What?"

I'm far enough away this time that I have time to see Slade rush me. I bring my sword up as he swings, but if I thought it was hard before, I can feel the hit from my wrists all the way up to my shoulders. And my arm barely stops stinging when a hand closes around it and then I'm in the air.

I twist around so I land on my feet, but Slade is already swinging. Forget finding an opening; this is a battle for survival. I block and twist and duck and dodge and Slade's sword finds weak spots no matter what I do. I block a strike at my shoulders, Slade twists his wrist and sends my blade flying while his other hand latches onto my arm and throws me to the ground. I hit the mat.

"Again."

I stagger to my feet and Slade throws me back my sword. As soon as I catch it, he charges.

Dodge. Block. He tries the same wrist lock and I pull my sword back, giving me an opening to kick his chest. He catches my foot in one hand and sends me to the ground. I hit the mat.

"Better but don't telegraph so much. Again."

I nod and climb back to my feet. Before I can even raise my sword, his blade slashes through the air where my head was. The duck turns into a roll and I push out of the roll into an aerial, slashing out as I land. Slade blocks and counters with a series of rapid strikes. I block, keeping my sword close to my chest and when Slade swings at mid-height, I see an opening. I turn my wrist the same way he did, but instead of disarming him, I abort the move halfway through and kick his knee, slashing upwards to whack the side of his head.

It worked!

Slade drops to one knee and brings a hand up to his jaw. He looks up, and there's a glint in his eye as he reaches for his sword.

"Good job. Again."

I scramble back to give myself a few seconds to breathe, but I can't stop the smile on my face. Who cares what the League thinks anyway? I just landed a hit on Slade. Take that, Captain Marvel!

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Star City

Saturday, July 14th, 2012

I admit it. Slade was right. After a long sparring session and a full night of sleep, I felt better about everything. Especially when Bruce called me to the Batcave to tell me that he'd reached a decision and we got to see Mount Justice—our new hideout! Seeing Kid Flash and Aqualad so excited makes it perfect. There's only one thing missing.

Ever since the Triad Takedown three years ago, the three of us have free reign in anyone else's cities. Wally and I can show up in Star City to hang out with Roy any time, and the same goes for me and Roy in Central (even if Bruce is still too paranoid to let them patrol in Gotham). So, when Wally, Kaldur and I show up at Green Arrow's latest hideout looking for Roy, he doesn't even bat an eye.

"Last I heard, he was tracking down some dealers by the docks, but he doesn't really tell me anything anymore," the archer says, aggressively shooting bullseye after bullseye. By the time we arrive at the docks, Speedy is flipping around a loading platform as he dodges the gunfire. He destroys the gun and the boss guy's custom-tailored suit with a perfectly aimed explosive arrow. Before any of the other goons can fire at him, Kid Flash speeds through, disarming everyone he passes.

I fire my grappling gun at Roy's platform and swing across the loading zone, cackling as the night breeze ruffles my cape. Two of my birdarangs disarm the goons Kid Flash missed. As I land, Aqualad ignites his water-bearers and knocks them against a crate. Speedy is still fighting the big guy, dodging huge chunks of earth and metal, but his arrows aren't doing much. Aqualad slices through one of the boulders, giving Speedy an opening to fire a gas-releasing arrow.

"The cave is perfect," Aqualad says, unable to keep his excitement out of his voice as he deactivates his weapons, "It has everything the team will need."

Jumping down from my perch on top of a stack of crates, I add, "For covert missions. You know, spy stuff."

Kid Flash races up the side of the crate, flipping when he gets to the top, "And wait till you see Superboy and Miss Martian. But I saw her first."

Aqualad and I roll our eyes in sync. The corner of Speedy's mouth twitches up into a smile, breaking through his serious demeanor for a second. The leader of the goons gets back up, chucking a massive boulder at us with an angry grunt. Speedy, Kid Flash and I scatter in different directions while Aqualad easily smashes through the rock with his water-maces. On his right side, Speedy launches three explosive arrows that don't have any effect on the meta-human. He notches another arrow, and I recognize it as one of his foam arrows. I fight back a laugh when the goon spreads his hands wide, daring Speedy to shoot.

He shoots.

The arrow lands in the center of the guy's chest and rapid-hardening foam bubbles out. In seconds, he's trapped. Kid Flash skids to a stop in front of Speedy.

"High-density polyurethane foam," he whistles, "Nice."

Speedy turns away from him and I jump to the reason why we really came.

"So, Speedy, you in?"

"Pass," he turns on me, his face set in a deep scowl, "I'm done letting the Arrow and the League tell me what to do."

As he continues his rant about being treated like a joke, it brings up doubts I didn't even know I'd been thinking.

What if he's right? What if the only reason the team exists is to keep us sidekicks out of the League's way? To keep us in our places? It's like Slade said about Captain Marvel; they want us close so they can keep an eye on us. Batman would never do that to me… would he? Except he lied to me about joining the League. He never would've told me if Speedy hadn't thrown the truth back in their faces.

"Roy, are you serious?" Kid Flash asks.

"It's Speedy," Speedy snaps angrily, "Actually, you know what? It's not Speedy. I'm done being Arrow's sidekick."

"I understand," Aqualad says, disappointed, "I had hoped that you felt differently, but I will respect your decision."

"Good."

Speedy slings his bow over his shoulder and starts walking away.

"Are you kidding me?!" I shout. Startled, the other three look at me.

"You're seriously going to say all that shit about us and walk away?! What the actual hell, Roy?! What's wrong with you?"

Speedy snorts.

"The only thing wrong with me is that I've put up with the League and their shit for as long as I have."

Kid Flash and Aqualad look at each other.

"Dude… I know you're upset and all, but you're really acting weird," Kid Flash says, "You never let Rob swear that much."

"Well, maybe it's not my job to baby him anymore. Maybe I have bigger things to worry about than if he wants to say a potty word."

Baby me?! That's it.

"You know what, Speedy?! I was upset that you walked out. I wanted you to be on this team with us, but now I'm glad you're not because I don't want you on it! Just go off and do that stupid be your own man thing. See if I care!"

I pull out my grappling gun, fire at a nearby scaffold and swing away.

"Rob!" Kid Flash calls, "Nice going, Roy."

From the top of the scaffold, I glance back in time to see Aqualad shake his head at Speedy and jump off the shipping crates. By the time I stop swinging and jumping from crate to crate, they've both managed to catch up with me.

"He didn't mean that," Wally says.

"And I don't believe you truly meant what you said either," Kaldur adds.

"What's wrong with him?!"

"He is acting very strange," Kaldur agrees, "He is… very upset at discovering the League's deception."

"Yeah, well so are we!" Wally spits, "They lied to us to, and you don't see us throwing our hats on the ground and stomping off."

"No. Just breaking into secret undercover laboratories against strict orders to remain in the Hall."

"Don't pretend you weren't right there with us!" Wally yells at Kaldur.

"I was joking," Kaldur says quietly and Wally deflates.

"I thought he'd listen to us," I huff.

"I did as well," Kaldur leans back, head against the wall.

Wally starts to sit down, but pauses. Then he stands bolt upright and snaps, "You know what? Screw Speedy! Who cares if he's throwing a stupid temper tantrum over being treated like a kid? He's just proving them right!"

Kaldur and I look at each other.

"I'm sick of it! We found and rescued Superboy by ourselves! And destroyed Cadmus's illegal cloning facility! Maybe the League isn't happy about it, but they gave us a base and we get to call ourselves a team. That's not nothing! And I'm done letting Roy pretend it is."

He holds out his hands to pull us up.

"I'm going to go run a late patrol around Central. You guys coming or not?"

Mount Justice

Sunday, July 15th, 2012

"Guess if we're going to have a babysitter, a heartless machine is exactly what we need," I frown, gesturing at the android heading for the Zeta beams.

"Dude, harsh!" Wally hisses.

"And inaccurate. I have a heart. Carbon-steel alloy," he turns, and his eye sockets are glaring waves of invisible irritation, "I also have excellent hearing."

Wally and Miss Martian wince. Behind me, I can feel Superboy and Kaldur wince too.

"Hah, right," I say, taken aback. Is that it? From Batman, a warning like that would be accompanied by another dozen rounds of katas. From Slade, it would mean a few rounds of full-contact sparring that end with my face meeting the floor, "I'll strive to be… more accurate?"

"And more respectful," Kaldur's hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. I jump. Slade does that as a warning that I've made one joke too many, and I hate that it feels the same from anyone else.

"I guess that's that," Wally sighs, "Is it too much to hope that they actually start telling us about guys like Mr. Twister next time?"

"I believe that is truly asking too much," Kaldur shakes his head, almost joking but not quite, "Shall we?"

We turn towards the zeta beam and the massive disks start spinning as the lights turn on.

"You guys are leaving?" Miss Martian asks. The three of us turn around to see her standing in the doorway, one hand on her arm in a half-hug. Behind her, Superboy is leaning against the wall of the hallway, looking like he's trying not to pay attention.

"We'll be back for training on Tuesday," I shrug. Miss Martian wilts like I just kicked her puppy. Which I would never do. Why is that even an expression?

"Unless you had something else in mind?" Wally grins, raising an eyebrow suggestively. I smack him in the stomach and shoot him a mild Batglare.

"Well, I thought we could do some team stuff. I mean, I know obviously we're a superhero team and we're not a 'social club' or anything and we just went on a mission, but I know it's customary on Earth to do some team bonding activities. I read in a magazine once that spending some time together outside of whatever the oriented goal is can strengthen relationships and I just thought it could be fun!"

Miss Martian blushes. Wally and I look at each other. When Red Tornado suggested we just enjoy each other's company, it pissed me off. It just seemed like the League trying to keep us busy and out of the way. But when Miss Martian says it, it sounds like it could be kind of fun. I mean, there's no reason we can't be a superhero team that's also friends with each other, right?

"What did you have in mind?" Kaldur asks.

"Oh! Um, we are right on the water, so maybe we could do a beach day? Or, the rest of the mountain is pretty heavily forested, we could go for a hike… or if we wanted, we could take the bioship out further. I've heard the Wolf Hill Forest preserve has some amazing trails! Or if you guys don't want to do that, there are a lot of malls around here. Malls are fun places to hang out, right?"

"Not sure today is the right day, but camping could be pretty fun," Wally suggests.

"I'm up for it," I agree, "Tuesday night, after training?"

"Assuming the League doesn't need us to go save the world or anything," Wally agrees. Kaldur snorts, but it's definitely less sarcastic than his usual snorts.

"Sounds great!" Miss Martian floats a foot off the ground and touches back down. Wow I wish I could fly. Imagine the kinds of trapeze stunts I could do if I could literally turn gravity off.

"We could do something now too, if you want," I say.

"Sure! The cave has a great entertainment system! The hologram projector has an air hockey table, but I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

"Are there movies?" Superboy asks suddenly. Yikes. Almost forgot he was there. But on the upside, he's nailing the brooding-from-the-shadows thing. If Superman doesn't get his head out of his butt, Superboy will fit right in with us Bats.

"I've never seen one before," he says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. Suddenly, there's a burst of air and Wally isn't standing next to me anymore. He's got one arm around Superboy's shoulder as he leads him down the hall towards the living room and the giant tv.

"—got so much to show you, young grasshopper. Star Wars, Star Trek, Iron Man, dude you'd love that one, it's a live-action remake about a character from this comic book, Fight Club's always a classic…"

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off!" I call, before jogging after them.

"Nice one, thanks Rob. Uh, Die Hard, Indiana Jones-"

"Jaws," Kaldur offers. Miss Martian giggles.

"I've seen Earth television shows, but I don't know if I've ever seen a movie," she admits as we enter the living room.

"Well, there's a lot of ground to cover. Where do you want to start?" I ask, making a beeline for the television set. There's a remote somewhere, but no sign of any DVDs or Netflix hookup. But there is a port that connects into my wrist computers, so we're good. Wally looks up from his phone and makes a face.

"According to Rotten Tomatoes, the best movie of all time is the Wizard of Oz, so that site is stupid."

"You don't like the Wizard of Oz?" I ask.

"You do like it?" Wally retorts.

"What's it about?" Miss Martian asks earnestly. Superboy leans forwards, trying to read the screen of Wally's phone.

"A girl from Kansas gets caught up in a tornado that takes her to a realm called Oz, where she and her companions must seek aid from the Wizard to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West," Kaldur explains, "It is quite a compelling tale."

Maybe watching something about tornadoes isn't the best idea right now, given the whole Red Tornado and Mr. Twister thing, but Superboy actually looks interested.

"Your tornadoes were pretty cool," Miss Martian says shyly. Wally blushes bright red before getting a flirty look on his face. I brace myself.

"Thanks, Megalicious. You know, sometime I could show you what a real—"

"I believe that is enough, Kid," Kaldur steps in firmly. Miss Martian and I smile gratefully, but before I can say, "THANK YOU," Kaldur presses his hands over my ears and adds, "After all, there are children present."

"Hey!" I push him off, but he lets go without letting me even throw him in revenge. Kaldur gives me his most self-satisfied grin and steps back, hands raised innocently.

"Fish food," I mouth at him. Kaldur grins even wider.

"I will disconnect this TV," I threaten, "Don't think I won't!"

"My apologies," Kaldur says smoothly, bowing deeply in a picture of diplomatic serenity. I give him one last glare before I pull up the movie, but when I turn away, I'm grinning like a maniac. I missed Kaldur's ridiculous stoic sense of humor.

The Haunt, Gotham

Wednesday, July 18th, 2012

The garage is a hub of loud machinery, music blasting over speakers and workers leaning back from half-built cars to fan themselves. An army of fans are chugging away in the corner, trying their best to cool down the space but it's a lost cause. Even with the bay doors open, it's a furnace in here. Charlie and two other mechanics are drinking beers on the old couch in the corner.

"Hey Sam," Charlie waves as I walk over. Her hair is sticking to her face and neck, sticky with sweat, "Nice day, right?"

"It's so hot in here! You need to install AC or something!"

She shrugs, "It's not so bad. We're off in an hour anyways."

"If you think it's bad in here, the office is an oven," one of the other mechanics warns me. I think his name is Mark. I glance at the closed office door.

"Is he in?"

Charlie shrugs again.

"I think so. He's been making calls all morning, so I'd knock first. He can be a real ass about that."

Great.

"Thanks."

"How's the computer stuff going?" the other mechanic asks. Jared, maybe?

I make a face, "I got the system installed no problem. But now I have to teach him how to actually use it."

Mark laughs at me, "I got a six-year-old who already knows how to work a phone better than I ever will. Drives her crazy. I wish you the best of luck."

"But at least you're getting paid," Charlie claps me on the back. I can't help but grin back at her. Getting paid. Yeah, right.

"I better get going."

"Have a good one," Charlie finishes her beer. I'm still smiling as I knock on the office door and Slade's voice calls, "It's open."

"How was camping?" Slade asks as I walk into his office. The door clicks shut behind me. I stare at him, mind flooding with memories of my teammates relaxing around a campfire, telling stories and trying to scare each other.

"How did you…"

"If we're being honest, the words you and camping do not belong together. It was more of a shock than actual interest."

I stare at him, trying to think of something to say but what comes out is a defensive, "I like camping!"

Slade rolls his eye and spins his chair so he's facing me.

"Let's go."

I follow him through the secret closet door and down into the hideout. Every time I come down here, it seems like there are more and more hallways and doors and I never remember how we got anywhere. It's all the same gray steel walls and concrete floors.

He holds the door to his office open and says, "So it seems Batman made his decision."

I freeze.

How does he know about that? Suddenly, the comment about camping seems a little more sinister. How did he find out about that?

"What... why do you think so?"

Slade laughs, "So paranoid, aren't you? Last week, you walked through that door like you wanted to punch anything that moved. Right now, you're practically bouncing out of your seat. Ergo, your frustrations with your mentor have been resolved, and I presume you're happy with the outcome by the smile you keep trying to hide. As far as camping goes, you smell like smoke and I haven't heard any reports of arson in the last few days. Your sneakers are also covered in grass and mud, which means you were outside for an extended period of time recently. Put that all together, it's a safe assumption."

"Oh."

I look down, my face heating up. What's wrong with me? Slade doesn't spend his time watching me. Besides, even if he did, the only way he would've actually known that I went camping with my new teammates is if he'd hacked Mount Justice's computer systems, and to do that he'd have to get through all of the League's security systems and defenses. I couldn't even do that without prior access codes, which he doesn't have.

Slade saved my life. He's on my side, and everything he does, he does it to help me. I can trust him to keep my secrets.

"I take it they've forgiven the three of you for singlehandedly taking down an illegal genetic engineering ring?" Slade asks.

"Yeah. We're a team now."

"And?"

"And… I think this is good."

Slade sits behind his desk, and I sit in the folding chair across from him.

"It seems this is a convenient arrangement. Maybe too much so."

"Speedy thought so. And I guess, he got the rest of us messed up about it, but he was wrong. No, it's not the same thing as being made real members of the League, and yes, I'm still angry that they lied to us. But this team isn't a joke either. We're going up against real threats, and we've already won once."

"Good. I'm glad for you. I know you were upset, and it would have been a waste of your skills otherwise. That being said, this team may become quite a time commitment. I am concerned that it may impede on our schedule."

"It won't. I'll make time. Besides, Canary only has us training twice a week."

"Is she your team leader?"

"No, we don't actually have a leader yet. But Red Tornado is our… supervisor. And we're technically Batman's team."

"Interesting. I've heard very little about Red Tornado and seen even less. He wouldn't have been my first thought for a supervisor."

"Mine either. But he let us handle it on our own with Mr. Twister, and I mean, he's a robot. He's kind of just there."

Slade nods, looking thoughtful.

"You said Mr. Twister? I haven't heard of him."

"Um… He was a robotic suit with tornado powers piloted by another robot. We aren't sure who was behind it."

"Well, there aren't that many players capable of that degree of robotics. Ivo certainly, Toymaker, Magnus, but they'd hardly have the motive…"

"Magnus? Who's that?"

"Doctor Magnus was a student of T.O. Morrow's. A truly brilliant man, he was the creator of the Metal Men."

"Uh…"

"The Metal Men were a robotic superhero team during the 1980's. Unfortunately, they were destroyed in battle against another of Magnus' creations after he was abducted by a terrorist cell in Austria. Magnus's current whereabouts are unknown, and he has never quite recovered from the experience."

"I've never heard of any of them."

Slade looks thoughtful, "That could be dangerous. This team of yours may come across any number of villains that you may never have heard of. I can teach you about the major players and make sure you are prepared should you engage them."

"You'd do that?"

"I'll work on a draft for you. When you go home, do your best to research the names and find out their background, abilities, weaknesses and affiliations. Next week, I'll quiz you and provide any information you may have missed."

"Okay."

"Good. We're working on hand-to-hand today, correct?"

I nod.

"Go get changed. I'll meet you in the gym. No weapons."

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Santa Prisca

Thursday, July 19th, 2012

"Another time then," Kobra says, before backing into the jungle. He disappears ominously into the night. 

I sprint forwards, pushing aside the thick vegetation but it's no use. He's gone, blending into the shadows the same way Batman and I do every night in Gotham. If Batman were here, I'd go after Kobra. Squinting into the darkness, I can see the faint movement in the treetops, divulging the path he traveled. I could track him down, but after my embarrassing failure to land a single hit on him, I don't really want to try.

Besides, I can't run off on my team again.

I make my way back towards the clearing in front of the warehouse. Miss Martian descends from the sky, shaking her head to signify that Kobra's men have cleared out. Superboy's shirt is in tatters, but otherwise he, Aqualad and Kid Flash are unharmed. Behind them, the factory is in flames, black smoke billowing out the windows and holes in the ceiling.

I smile.

"We picked the right guy to lead," I smile, walking forwards towards Aqualad. I point at him, then step forwards, spreading my arms wide to gesture at the fire, “Automatically making you the right person to explain all this to Batman."

Oh, Bruce is going to be pissed. He assigned us a covert mission to observe only, and instead, we blew everything up, ran Kobra and his cult off the island and accidentally reinstated Bane's control over the factory.

Back in the bioship, the atmosphere is tense now that the initial exhilaration of victory has worn off. Even though we won, Sportsmaster still got away and we majorly failed the whole 'covert' thing. Even if Batman isn't furious, will the League still allow the team? This was a trial mission, and we couldn't complete the objective. I glance at Kaldur again and guilt pricks at my stomach. I sigh, the corner of my mouth pulling down unhappily. I can't let Kaldur take all the blame for this. It's not his fault that the mission didn't work out and his plan actually worked. Even if the Justice League decides that the Team can't continue, we need to act like a team. Besides, he's my friend and I'll always have his back.

We make it back to the cave at two in the morning. We didn't talk much during the flight and everyone is exhausted from the mission. Superboy has been playing with his ruined shirt the whole time. Wally fell asleep in about two seconds and he snored steadily through the entire flight. Kaldur hasn't said a word. He just stared at the wall of the bioship, deep in thought.

"We're here," Miss Martian announces and the seat restraints fall away. I stand up and stretch my back, listening to the cacophony of cracks that come out. I hate sitting still. Wally is slumped over in his chair so I walk over and flick his ear.

"KF! We're back, get up!"

"Uh... what?" he stirs, blinking violently. A yawn splits his face before he opens his eyes.

"We're at Mount Justice," I tell him. He yawns again and then nods in understanding. Miss Martian raises her hand to open the bioship hatch but before she can do anything, Kaldur says, "Wait."

We all turn to face him.

"I know this mission did not turn out as planned, but I wanted you all to know that I am proud to be on this team with all of you. I am proud of what we have accomplished tonight."

I smile and nod back at him. Kid Flash grins, "Speedy was so wrong."

Miss Martian hesitates before getting the courage to say, "We do make a good team."

We all grin at her before looking at Superboy. He crosses his arms and his mouth moves into a shape that could only be a smile.

"You guys are all right, I guess."

Mount Justice

Tuesday, July 31^st, 2012

The whistle blows as Wally scores again. Kaldur looks down in dismay as he misses the holographic puck and loses the tournament. The holographic table lets out a series of beeps. Wally takes a bite of his banana, grinning arrogantly at Kaldur. Kaldur glares back. Before any of us can say anything, the cave computer system announces "Recognized: Superboy, B-04."

Superboy storms into the cave, looking furious. M'gann smiles warmly.

"Hi Superboy! How was Metropolis?"

He ignores her and marches straight through the table, causing the hologram to deactivate. Wally, Kaldur and I stare at him. Apparently, Metropolis did not go well. If Bruce doesn't get to it first, I'm going to have a serious talk with Uncle Clark. Someone clears their throat behind us softly.

"Ready for training, everyone?" Black Canary asks as she and Martian Manhunter enter the room.

M'gann's face lights up, “Uncle J'onn!"

She rushes forwards to hug him and he smiles down at her. Superboy watches them sourly from the far side of the training floor. After a few seconds, he tries to storm away but Canary stops him.

"Stick around. Class is in session."

Superboy rolls his eyes at her and I take a tiny step back. Canary is not gonna like that. Canary starts her lesson, giving us her version of a welcome speech. She's got a bandage on her arm, probably from one of the League's last missions.

"Would anyone like to be my sparring partner for the first demo?" she grins. I know that smile, and there's no way any of us are stupid enough to volunteer for—

"Right here!" Kid Flash's hand shoots up. I grin at Aqualad, who doesn't smile back, but he does shake his head at Kid Flash. It was nice knowing him.

"You know, after this little demo, I'd be happy to show you one of my moves."

Black Canary raises an eyebrow and in two moves, it's over. Wally's lying flat on his back, groaning. She gave him a punch to block and before he knew what was happening, she'd already swept his legs out from under him. I tilt my head to the side, grinning from ear to ear. Huh. From this angle, Wally looks just like a smashed bug.

"Good block. But did anyone see what he did wrong?" Canary asks as she helps Wally to his feet. I can't help myself.

"Ooh, ooh! He hit on teacher and got served?"

"Dude!" Wally protests.

Canary starts explaining about dictating the terms of battle, and it's basically the same as what Slade has been telling me. Know your limitations, learn from your opponent, use your surroundings, yadda yadda yadda. The only problem is that dictating the terms of battle isn't really practical when you're fighting someone forty years older, a hundred and fifty pounds heavier and with ten times more experience. I've never really gotten to spar with the other sidekicks—I mean, people my age. I'm sure it's going to be fun.

Superboy interrupts Canary mid-sentence.

"Oh please," he growls, "With my powers, the battle's always on my terms."

Is he crazy? Interrupting the instructor is the worst thing you can do. If I interrupted Batman during a mission briefing or even training in the Batcave, he'd make me wax the Batmobile or do another hundred sets. If I interrupted Slade… A shiver runs down my back. I think he's got some kind of super power that can drop the temperature of the room when he gets annoyed. And did I mention the no-holds-barred full-contact sparring yet?

Miss Martian flinches.

Aqualad is watching the argument with a controlled grimace, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The rest of the team looks equally alarmed by Superboy's outburst, but Black Canary just rolls with it.

"Prove it," she challenges.

Superboy narrows his eyes. Wally backs away from the center of the ring where Kaldur and I can protect him. He glares at me like he can hear my thoughts and I stick my tongue out at him. Our instructor drops into a fighting stance at the same time Superboy does. He throws the first punch and totally over-commits his weight. Canary steps back, putting her body in line with his, and while his center of gravity is off balance, she grabs his arms and throws him. He lands on his butt.

I burst out laughing, pointing at the fallen Kryptonian. Kaldur elbows me and I cover my mouth with my hands to mute my giggling. Told you. Bad mouthing the trainer always ends badly. Always. He's lucky Canary has a good sense of humor about it. Superboy gets up again, glaring at Canary with rage filled eyes.

"You're angry. Good, but don't react," she says.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. That's going to go over well. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he charges her again and she knocks him to the floor easily. Seriously, he telegraphs all his moves! Fighting a Superboy 101: Just move out of the way until he trips himself.

"That's it. I'm done," Superboy growls. Black Canary tries to talk to him, but a glaring match ensues. Before a real fight can break out, the video screen opens.

"Batman to the cave."

I let out a sigh of relief. Batman has the best timing.

Superboy and I follow the convoy, speeding down I-95. I've never seen this few cars on the road before. I like it. Trying to protect a convoy on a crowded road would be a complete disaster. Huh. Disaster.

"If like is the opposite of dislike, is disaster the opposite of aster?" I ask Superboy over the comm link, “See, instead of things going wrong, they go right."

Superboy glares down at the road in angry silence.

"Uh, clearly you're not feeling the aster. What's wrong?"

"Canary,” Superboy says, gripping his handlebars angrily, “And what business does she have teaching combat skills to a guy with super strength?"

Oh boy.

"Taking down stronger guys is part of the gig,” I tell him, taking my eyes off the road to look at him, “Canary learned that the hard way. Same with Batman and well, me."

Superboy revs his motorcycle and speeds ahead, leaving me trailing behind. I roll my eyes. Does he really think that having super strength is the only thing you need to be the perfect hero? He probably thinks I'm just some kind of joke. That because I don't have super powers, I must be helpless. Well guess what? I have the most experience of anyone on this team. I've spent thousands of hours training, honing those combat skills Superboy thinks are useless. I've spent more time training with Slade than he's even been out of his pod. Size isn't everything and neither is strength. If that's all Superboy has, what's he going to do the first time he has to fight someone stronger than he is?

The corn around us starts rustling, and I sigh. So much for an easy mission.

"Hey Superboy?" I say over the commlink, “Quick heads up. We're about to have some company."

Superboy grunts in response. I rev my engine and catch up to him, and to be fair, he doesn't try to pull ahead again. A high-pitched cackling fills the air, coming from all directions. It's loud enough to drown out the roar of the motorcycle engines. Green robots shoot out of the corn and fly through the air, jetpacks built into their backs. Cackling like hyenas, they latch onto the truck with magnetic thuds. Their eyes and bodies glow with green light, faces stuck in huge, glowing grins.

"Robin, Superboy, our truck is under attack," Aqualad's voice warns over the commlink.

"Kind of figured," I answer, watching the robotic tails swing back and forth. Next to me, Superboy glowers.

"I hate monkeys," he growls. There's a thudding sound and the truck swerves into the wrong lane. I can't help but stare at the tiny green robot monkeys. Sure, they're attacking, but they're also super cool.

"Robot monkeys!" I grin, "Totally Ivo's tweaked style."

I activate the command on my motorcycle that reconfigures it, detaching the back end. The machine unfolds into a battle drone and begins shooting at the robots.

"Hey, switch your ride to battle mode," I tell Superboy, grinning as the drone knocks another three robots off the truck. Batman comes up with the coolest tech.

"No point," Superboy snaps, zooming forwards and launching himself onto the truck. Without him on it, his motorcycle loses control and goes careening right into mine.

"Or not!" I yelp, jumping onto the seat of my motorcycle and throwing myself into the air before I crash. I shoot my grappling gun at the truck and hear a crash and an explosion as the two cycles collide. My hands and feet hit the tuck and I kick a robot trying to laser its way through the metal. I look back to see a red and black cloud rising into the air. I gulp and my palms feel sweaty.

If I'd been a second slower, I would under that mess.

Broken robot parts fall through the air around me, and Superboy's grunts accompany the sound of smashing metal. More robot monkeys lunge at me and I kick them away. The grappling gun connected to my wrist is the only thing keeping me attached to the truck and my shoulder strains under the weight. My feet are just inches from the truck bed, but I can't risk releasing any of the line to lower myself down. If I fall, I'll hit the pavement at sixty miles an hour.

The battle drone is still shooting monkeys, which is definitely helpful but the small explosions are way too close to my head for comfort. The monkeys laugh even harder and two of them land on the drone, sending it barreling off to the side. I grab the base of the grappling gun and use it to pull my body around, kicking the robots that are still cutting through the truck over my head. Superboy lets out a scream, and suddenly he's being pulled into the air by five of the green monkeys. They drop him and he crashes to the ground.

"Superboy!" I shout. He doesn't answer. Oh, this is bad. So not feeling the aster.

I pull out a birdarang that doubles as a climbing hook and smash the robot on my left side. I jam the birdarang into the truck and detach the grappling gun from my wrist. I scramble up to the roof in time to see a monkey pull one of the guards out of the truck. He screams, hitting the robot with his free hand but it shoots off into the air, dragging him behind it. The robot drops the man into the corn and shoots back towards me. I don't have time to see if he's okay.

I pull out my escrima sticks and twirl them to loosen my wrists. I charge forwards, smashing robots as they shoot towards me. I flip, crushing two of them in one motion when I land. I steady myself while the truck careens from side to side and ten more robots land on top of the truck. Before I can do anything, Superboy smashes down onto the top of the truck, and the shockwave knocks me off my feet. I stumble backwards and lose my balance. I flip a latch on my escrima sticks, causing small spikes to protrude from the ends, and I slam them down into the truck as I fall. The metal punctures the roof of the truck, and I stop falling, my head hanging over the end of the truck.

Holy shit, that was close.

I jump up before the robots can attack, getting back into a defensive position. Suddenly, there's a bang that sounds like the tires exploding, and the truck shoots off to one side. I stumble. There's no time to waste. The driver is going to lose control any second. I lean over the edge and shout, "Get out!" at the driver. The door opens and the second it does, I grab the driver under the arms and jump off the truck.

Corn stalks whip against my body, cracking under our combined weight. We crash against the ground and the impact sends me skidding over rocks and through more corn. My helmet catches the brunt of the impact, but the rest of my body burns. In the background, I hear the truck crashing and rolling and skidding, and I hear Superboy yell in pain. There's another explosion and then the monkeys are laughing again, shooting into the sky with the box of Amazo parts between them.

I pull off my helmet and force myself to stand up.

The driver looks dazed, but he's still breathing and he's not bleeding. I reach down and help him up, supporting his weight on my shoulder. I curse myself for being short, and in the end, I have to practically drag him back to the road. I let the driver down slowly, and he faints the second he hits the ground. The truck is burning, flipped on its top. It rolls over as Superboy pushes it off him. He stumbles, but before I can say anything, he shoots into the sky, following the monkeys and leaving me alone.

"Superboy!" I shout. He doesn't listen, and I see his form moving farther and farther away, “Aagh!"

I kick at a stalk of corn. Is he trying to kill me?!

"Aqualad to Robin. We've lost our cargo. Did you—"

I sigh, anger fading into tiredness.

"It's gone. And so is my partner."

Aqualad sighs too.

"Aqualad to Superboy. Radio your position. We'll help you."

"I don't need any help. I don't want any!" he shouts and I almost rip out my comm link in frustration. What the hell does he think teammates are for?

"Superboy?!" Aqualad demands, but there's no answer.

"I think he ditched his comm," I tell him.

"Super. Now we can't even track him," Kid Flash says, voice thick with irritation.

"Are you alright?" Aqualad asks.

"A little banged up, but I'm fine. I'm going to need an ambulance for the guards."

"We'll send one your way."

"He's out of my telepathic range," Miss Martian says, "And this Professor Ivo, if he is alive, seems to be two steps ahead of us."

"No, he's not. He just has trackers in his robots and a busload of monkeys to throw at us," I snap irritably. Ivo was one of the first villains Slade covered. He likes to build messed up robots, test them by setting them loose, and then he collects whatever parts are left to build a new-and-improved version. Wait. If he has trackers in all his robots, maybe I can hack the signal.

"Maybe we should contact Red Tornado?" Miss Martian offers.

"Tornado always tells us to handle things ourselves. And the mission can still succeed if we recover the parts before they're reassembled," Aqualad says.

"Well, that's a great plan, except for the part about us not knowing where to look," Kid Flash yells. I look around at the smashed robots littering the ground for one that looks somewhat intact. There's one robot with its face smashed in, but the rest of it looks fine. Bingo!

"Maybe we do," I say, bending down and pulling an extension cable from my holocomputer. I plug it into the robot to decode the schematics and programming, “We'd have heard by now if the decoy trucks had been attacked. So how did these monkeys know exactly which trucks to target?"

My computer finishes decrypting the system and the holocomputer screen opens, displaying a map.

"Ha! I was right! The parts have GPS! The monkeys can track the signal, which means I can track them with the one I captured. It looks like both sets of parts are converging on…"

I watch as the moving dots pass through Litchfield and into Fairfield County and keep moving.

Yikes.

"Gotham city," I finish. Oh, Batman is not going to like this.

"That far south? M'gann and I won't get there anytime soon. I'm sending Kid on ahead to meet you. Aqualad out."

I sling the monkey over my shoulder and stand, looking out over the wreckage. I sigh, pressing buttons on my wrist computer, praying that there's something left of my motorcycle.

"Definitely a disaster, heavy on the dis."

My motorcycle zooms to a stop next to me, looking a little battered, but considering what it's been through, it could be so much worse. I pull my outer jacket off and raise the seat, revealing my costume in the hidden compartment. I change quickly, clipping my cape on and stowing the gear I managed to salvage under the seat. I climb on and throw my helmet over my head. I rev the engine and then I'm zooming towards Gotham city. It's twenty-five minutes away going sixty miles an hour. If I push ninety, I can get there in about fifteen minutes.

My cape is flying behind me, the wind buffeting it in every direction and I wonder if it would really be a terrible thing to detach it. I just can't get the whole "no capes!" speech from the Incredibles out of my head, but it's too short to have any risk of getting caught in the wheel and it's designed to protect me from explosions or blunt trauma. So, the cape stays and I push the cycle just past 95 miles per hour. 

The sign for Gotham City comes into view as a yellow blur pulls up beside me and instantly, I relax a little. Having Wally makes any situation easier.

"So, you changed too?"

"You kidding? Huh. I feel naked in civvies. You still tracking the parts?" Wally asks.

"They were heading through Gotham," I say, "But they veered."

The screen on my cycle changes and my eyes widen.

"Wait, dude! They're at my school!"

"Weird,” I can hear Wally's grin over the comm link, “You know, we don't have to stop Amazo…"

"I wish,” I take a hard right, zooming off the road and onto the grass, “This way! It's a shortcut."

Wally follows me through a short stretch of woods, and then we emerge on a main road. Luckily, it's empty at this time of night. We zoom down the road, turning past a short stretch of farmland that the school rents out as part of an extracurricular program, and turn left past the community center. Gotham Academy comes into view and I slow, letting my cycle come to a screeching halt. Wally stops with me, leaving skid marks in the fire lane. I can't resist leaving my motorcycle on top of the "no parking, buses only" area. Hey, I'm a hero. But nobody said heroes can't be petty.

"Let's go save Superboy," Wally says, and we charge into the school. I open my holocompter as we race down the hallways that look totally different at night. We round a corner and I can't stop myself from pouting.

"Well, they were definitely here," Wally says as we run past the wreckage.

"They busted the trophy case! I had a plaque!" I whine.

"For what? Chess club?" Wally teases.

"No! Mathletes!"

"Oh my god, Robin. You nerd."

My holocomputer beeps.

"Got them! They're in the gym."

"I got it!" Wally speeds off towards the gym, leaving me free to climb into a vent. I know the ventilation system better than I know the hallways. There's a direct path to the gym that's way faster than going through the cafeteria, past the wood-shop and down a flight of stairs. I crawl through as quickly as I can and kick the vent cover. I drop down the hole I made, pushing off the top bleachers and flipping down to the ground. I land just as Kid Flash pulls Superboy out of Amazo's way. They speed over to us and I throw a birdarang at the robot.

"Access Martian Manhunter," the robot says, turning incorporeal, and the projectile passes through him, exploding against the wall, “Access Red Tornado."

A red funnel starts swirling around the robot, picking us up and throwing us across the room. I hit the wall, but my suit absorbed most of the impact. I get up, but the robot is shooting at Kid Flash. He zooms around the gym, dodging Captain Atom's energy pulses as they destroy the gym around him. He speeds towards the robot, who says, "Access Black Canary."

The sonic wave knocks Kid Flash off his feet.

I look around, trying to find something we can use to our advantage as Superboy charges the robot again. I'll leave the heavy-hitting to Superboy and KF. I can't take Amazo head-on, and I'm not going to be able to get close enough to plant a bomb. Even if I could, he'll just go intangible if he realizes it's there. Amazo knocks Superboy back and I throw three more birdarangs, trying to catch him off guard. The robot's arm swings out and elongates, letting the projectiles explode against the metal harmlessly.

His other arm swings towards me and I dive to the side. Superboy doesn't move in time, and the arm slams into him, destroying a huge section of the bleachers with it. Kid Flash tries to get a punch in while he's distracted, but Amazo grabs him around the middle and says, "Access Superman."

It starts squeezing, and I can see the fear in Wally's face as the force presses in on him. Before I can do anything, there's a sound like an arrow being launched, but that can't be because Roy isn't here and the League is too far away, but then Amazo turns incorporeal and Wally falls, and the arrow embeds itself in the floor next to me. Wally scrambles out of range and Superboy charges again. Amazo throws him, using one of Black Canary's moves, and he crashes into the bleachers on the other side. I throw another birdarang, trying to distract the robot, and Amazo turns to me.

"Access Superman."

His eyes light up red and I don't have time to get out of the way and then Kid Flash crashes into me, pulling me out of the line of fire. We crash near the doors, dazed from the explosion. In the bleachers, Ivo starts monologuing, probably trying to enrage Superboy.

"You're all such poor copies of the original," Ivo finishes with a smirk in his voice.

"So everyone keeps saying," Superboy spits, "It makes me angry!"

He screams the last part and launches himself into the air, but there's something different about his attack. If I didn't know what it looks like when he loses control, I wouldn't see the way he positions himself to cause the most damage and angle himself so that Ivo's only escape is to the right.

"Want to see me channel that anger?" he shouts.

"Great, he's gone ballistic again," Kid Flash says, but I shake my head.

"Maybe not," I grin. Sure enough, Ivo panics.

"Amazo, protect your master, priority alpha."

And just like that, the rules change. Superboy smashes the bleachers behind him, sending Ivo running straight towards me and Kid Flash. Amazo attacks Superboy, leaving the monkey robots to pick up Ivo.

"Anyone up for a game of keep away?" I shout, kicking a dazed Ivo in the back. He flies across the room, skidding on his face. Ouch.

"Ooh, me! Me!" Kid Flash shouts, running towards Ivo.

"Access Superman," Amazo says and stomps on the ground, sending a shockwave across the floor that sends Kid Flash flying into the air. It sends Ivo into the air too. I see Superboy moving in and throw a birdarang to give him his opening. Sure enough, Amazo lets it phase through him and Superboy punches through his incorporeal head. When he reforms, Superboy's arm is going through his head and the robot fizzles with electricity, every circuit frying. The robot's head explodes and its headless body falls backwards.

"Help me disassemble him! Now!" I shout, charging towards him to start pulling the parts off. Kid Flash just stares at me.

"Dude. The guy has no head."

"Don't take any chances," Aqualad orders as he and Miss Martian charge through the doors. I grab Amazo's left arm and start pulling. Kid Flash moves forwards to help me.

Miss Martian flies to Superboy's side worriedly.

"Superboy! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Feeling the aster," he responds and my jaw drops open. I stare at him and he smiles back at me.

"Hey? Where's Ivo?" Kid Flash asks. We all stare around the smoking hull the used to be the gym, but there's nothing but us and the partly disassembled killer robot. Okay, so maybe this is a little bit of a disaster, but on the bright side… gym class will probably be cancelled for a few weeks.

"Hey, uh, Robin? Can I talk to you for a second?" Superboy asks, standing in the doorway to the Team's gym uncomfortably. I'm doing a handstand on the parallel bars, and I bend my arms, lowering my head towards the ground while my body points straight in the air. I push up and let my body swing forwards, using the momentum to swing all the way through and fly into the air. I do a full flip and land softly on the ground between the bars. Then I turn towards Superboy, ducking under the bars so I can grab my towel and water bottle.

"Canary finished whooping your butt?" I tease, moving towards my teammate.

Superboy smiles. Superboy smiles?! What?!

"Yeah. She's actually… she knows what she's doing."

I put my hand over my heart in shock.

"What happened to 'I don't need combat skills'?"

Superboy smiles uncomfortably.

"Look, I just wanted to say," he pauses, taking a deep breath and exhaling sharply, “I'm sorry."

My brain freezes. Superboy. Anger issues. Trust issues. Minor superiority complex. No social skills. Not a team player. Stubborn. Very stubborn.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I was a pretty awful teammate today. You could have gotten hurt because I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have left you behind to go after Ivo myself, and I should have waited for backup,” he pauses, face torn between pride and guilt, “And… I'm sorry about what I said. I don't think that you're weak and I'm sorry that I said you were. You deserve to be on this team more than anyone. Except… except maybe Aqualad, but he's—"

"It's okay,” I interrupt him, "It means a lot to me that you're apologizing."

Superboy looks up, his eyes clear and relieved.

"I know this is probably a lot harder than you thought it would be. I mean, if I had super strength, it would be a lot easier, but it's taken me a long time to get where I am now. I mean, even when I'm not being Robin, I still spend most of my time training. This hero stuff is really hard and it takes time to get better at it."

"I didn't think," he pauses, "I didn't think I would be so bad at it."

"You're not bad at it. Yeah, okay, maybe there's places to improve, but you're not bad at it. You're just new. Even Superman was new once."

"Really?"

"Yeah,” I grin. Payback time, Uncle Clark, “You should hear some of the stories about when he was growing up. Every time a new power came in, he had to start from scratch. You know, if you ever need some 'blackmail,' I'll tell you all about the rabid fox and the barn roof."

"The what?"

"Rabid fox and the barn roof. It's hilarious. Or, if you want, I can yell at him for being a jerk to you."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Duh! What are teammates for?"

Superboy actually smiles, “Maybe this team thing really isn't so bad."

"If we can ever get the hang of this 'covert' thing,” I grin.

"Someone once told me that difficult things take time to learn," Superboy says seriously.

"You mean, I told you that three seconds ago,"

Superboy nods, smiling even bigger, "Hey, it was good advice."

I think I misjudged him. Maybe Superboy is better adjusted than I thought.

"Hey, do you think you could show me how to do some of that stuff?" Superboy asks, pointing at the parallel bars.

"You're not too sore from Black Canary's super-fun beat down?"

"I think I'll manage."

"You sure? Because Robin boot camp is nothing like you've ever done before."

"Because… I've never done it before?"

"Exactly,” I snap my fingers, "Now you're getting it!"

LexSecure eRecords Password Accepted.

Waiting for Verification...

Password verified.

From: [email protected]

Heard a rumor you're interested in recovering AMAZO. How badly do you want to find it?

From: [email protected]

10K if your intel is correct. Paid on confirmation.

From: [email protected]

JL stashed it in upstate New York. Storage facility on the Howard Stark Land Trust.

From: [email protected]

-Transfer Record-

Item #: 778945983

Amount: $10,000.00

To: [email protected]

Service: International

From: [email protected]

Blueprints and security system plans are yours for another 30. Payment up front.

From: [email protected]

You expect me to believe you've obtained secure League schematics? You make a pathetic con man, Wilson.

From: [email protected]

You're a businessman, Lex. Aren't the plans worth the risk that I'm lying to you?

From: [email protected]

-Transfer Record-

Item #: 778945997

Amount: $30,000.00

To: [email protected]

Service: International

From: [email protected]

If you're lying to me, you'll regret it.

From: [email protected]

Attached:

ext464593(pdf)

int464593(pdf)

scsys464593(pdf)

From: [email protected]

How did you get these?

From: [email protected]

Now you're getting to the expensive questions, Lex. Contact me as needed. It'll be much more affordable.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Wayne Manor

Wednesday, August 1st, 2012

"Dad's home!" Tim calls, peeling his face away from my bedroom window. He races out the door with a cheer and the sound of his feet pounding against the carpet. Cassie latches onto Jason's shoulders, pulling herself into a piggyback. I crouch so Stephanie can climb onto my back and we run after Tim. In the foyer, the door opens and closes and Bruce's voice fills the air. As we charge down the main staircase, Bruce tells Alfred that the flight was good and the meeting was productive.

"Daddy!" Cassie shrieks happily. Bruce drops his briefcase with a slight thud, holding out his arms as Tim slams into him and envelops him in a bear hug. Jason and I are right behind him. Stephanie wriggles off my back so that she can tackle Bruce too. His arms wrap around all of us and I lean into the group hug. He smells like a limousine and the expensive cologne he wears for business trips. I'm surrounded by my family on all sides and it's a tangle of arms and bodies and Tim keeps stepping on my foot and Stephanie keeps kicking my knees while she tries to jump high enough to wrap her arms around Bruce's shoulders.

"Welcome home, sir," Alfred grins in his most butler-y voice.

"How was Metropolis?" I say when we break apart.

"Did you see Uncle Clark?" Stephanie asks.

"What'd you bring me?" Jason demands.

"Daddy!" Cassie pulls at his arms, "I maked dis!"

Bruce picks the five-year-old up in his arms while she pulls a messily folded piece of paper from her sweater pocket with concentrated effort and holds it out to him proudly.

"You made this? It's beautiful!" Bruce gushes, "We'll have to get you enrolled in art school soon!"

"What took you so long?" I ask after he finished praising Cassie's art, "You were in Litchfield with us yesterday. Why are you just getting home now?"

"I had another business meeting in Metropolis. LexCorp is still trying to push a co-op development that somehow slipped through about fifty layers of red tape, but we have it handled now," he responds, "And I had to talk to Clark."

"About Superboy," It's not a question. Bruce nods.

"Who's Superboy?" Tim asks. I start to answer, but it's probably better to let Bruce explain. I don't want to confuse Tim too much.

"Superboy is Superman's clone."

"Like in Star Wars?"

"No, those are clone troopers," I correct him.

"Not to mention the fact that Star Wars is fictional," Bruce adds smugly.

"Is it really?" I say, raising my eyebrow pointedly, "Uncle Hal said that the Jedi have been having turf disputes with the Lantern Corps lately."

"You shouldn't believe everything Hal says. He's just messing with you."

"But I asked Guy Gardener and he said that-"

"When were you talking to Guy Gardener?" Bruce asks, bemused.

"He came by the cave accidentally. M'gann gave him some cookies for the road. Wally freaked out a little because he still owes Guy twenty bucks from that poker night on top of Star Labs last year. So he told me to distract him and so I remembered what Uncle Hal said and I wanted to know and Guy said that there really are Jedi, but they're in a totally different quadrant of space and that George Lucas' dad had been a Green Lantern and that's how he knew about them. By the way, don't tell Barry about the poker night because he promised Wally's mom that he wouldn't let him gamble."

"Huh," his voice makes it clear that he will be following up with an investigation of his own about the Jedi thing. Nerd.

"Guys! Who's Superboy?!" Tim whines, upset at being ignored, "Why haven't I met him before?"

"We just rescued him from Cadmus a few weeks ago," I tell him, "He's on my team, but not a lot of people know he exists."

"Why did he have to be rescued?"

"Cadmus is a laboratory that does a lot of bad experiments. The Justice League didn't find out about it until Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad investigated a fire there."

"You rescued him?"

I nod.

"Well, he kind of rescued us too."

"Where does he live? Does he live with Uncle Clark?"

"No. He lives at Mount Justice with Miss Martian. She's another one of my teammates."

"Why not?"

"Uncle Clark is having a hard time accepting his new responsibilities," Bruce answers.

"Why? Jango Fett loved Boba, and he was his clone. Why doesn't Uncle Clark love Superboy?"

"It's complicated. He didn't know about him before. It's hard for him to deal with."

"Oh," Tim is quiet for a second, "Can Superboy come visit?"

"We'll see."

Tim follows Bruce as he goes to his study, peppering him with questions as they go. Cassie runs back to the living room and plops herself down on the carpet where she's assembled a mountain of crayons and markers for her art. Jason pulls his DS out of his jacket pocket and sits against the wall. My stomach rumbles so I head to the kitchen. I pour a bowl of cereal, sit at the table and turn on the news. Wally's aunt Iris is on channel seven and it's kind of fun seeing people I know on tv. But it can be weird too, like when the Wayne Foundation makes a huge donation and Bruce is all over the news that cycle or one of my teachers shows an interview with the Justice League.

Last year, my history teacher showed us a documentary about Wonder Woman that made her look like a super-serious goddess of war and diplomacy and all of the confessionals and expert interviews talked about the ancient Greeks and Wonder Woman as a figure straight out of legends. I mean, it's kind of true, but I've also seen Aunt Diana frantically trying to calm Cassie down after my little sister ate one of her homemade brownies and started crying at how bad they were. It's hard to see someone in the same light after that.

But it was a cool documentary and Robin was in one of the clips they had of the Justice League defending the Capitol building from Gorilla Grodd's army three years ago. That was pretty awesome. I'll never get tired of seeing myself on tv.

"I don't wanna go back to school," Stephanie whines, pulling me out of remembering my glory days, "Why can't it just be summer foreverrrrr?"

"As much I sympathize with your plight, young Mistress, an education is a necessity."

"But Alfredddddd…"

"Non-negotiable, I'm afraid. However, I'm sure I could be persuaded to prepare a batch of raspberry-chocolate chip cookies if you were able to produce your completed report on the Series' of Unfortunate Events you were to have read."

Stephanie pouts, "But Jason hasn't finished his summer work either."

"Leave me out of this, Steph!" Jason's shout echoes from the living room. Alfred always gets like this right before school starts, because he knows Bruce will assume that we've been keeping to a responsible schedule with summer homework and by the time it occurs to Bruce to make sure that we've started it, it's the day before. I finished most of my stuff over the last couple weeks, and now I just have five more pages out of my math packet which I saved for last because calculus is super easy. Jason always manages to get his stuff done, so Alfred knows he's not the one to watch out for. Stephanie and Tim have about two book reports and a math packet between them. You'd think that wouldn't be too bad.

You'd be wrong.

It takes every bit of persuasion and influence and putting-his-foot-down-ness that Alfred has, and even that isn't enough to get the two of them to get started on their work. Stephanie and Alfred have been playing this game for the whole week, where the conversation starts off subtle and the pressure builds until Alfred makes a bribe and Stephanie holds up her end of the bargain… until he turns around. Then they start up all over again.

Stephanie is finally out of time, and she's been moping around all day. Watching her, you'd think her pet leopard gecko died. I'm halfway through my math packet by the time she manages to open her computer and start typing. But if Alfred thinks Stephanie is bad… she's got nothing on Tim. His strategy is a little different. While Stephanie goes with the obvious whining and stalling, Tim pretends to be working. He's been on line three of his book report for the last two months.

It's an amazing act. He's got the routine down perfectly… better than any Shakespearean actor could ever hope to match. I don't know how he did it, but he figured out exactly what it looks like when he's actually trying to do homework or focusing on something. He sits down in front of the computer and fakes it. I don't know how he does it. Even when I know for a fact he's just pressing random keys and occasionally deleting everything, if I can't see his screen I'd never know. He's got his usual look of concentration on his face, and he breaks up the slow typing by reading a page or two of "Holes," the whole thing is impressive and hilarious, mainly because he's wasted so much time pretending to work on it when he could have just written the one-page summary and been done.

As much as I kind of want to see Alfred's face when he realizes Tim's hoax, I really don't want to leave the opening for the "You knew what he was up to and didn't say anything so no cookies for a week" lecture. Jason can fill me in later. For now, I carry my dishes to the sink and kick up into a handstand. Upside down, I walk on my hands down the hall and into Bruce's study, where the door is propped open. He's working on a letter for the Wayne Tech shareholders while he scans through piles of reports and updates.

"How's your homework coming?" he asks without looking up.

"Almost done. I just have a few pages of my calc packet left, but it's really easy."

There's a pause, where the only sound in the study is from Bruce's keyboard. The portrait of Thomas and Martha hanging over the fireplace looks weird from upside down, but I don't think anyone will find it funny if I point out how weird her nose looks flipped 180 degrees.

"Dick, are you sure you want to take AB calculus? I really think BC would be a better fit for your ability."

"No, I'm good. I don't really want to mess up my schedule trying to switch it."

Not after the amount of effort it took to convince Slade to butt out of it. If I hadn't agreed to take the lower-level math and bio classes, he was going to make my schedule for me. So, the math class stays.

"Are you doing science club again this year?" Bruce asks.

What? I never did a science club.

OH.

I almost drop myself onto my head. I did the Gotham Primary science club for two weeks last year, and after that it was my cover for training with Slade. I'd do homework after school with Babs and then walk to the community center where Slade would have a car waiting. After training, he'd drive me back to school with plenty of time for Alfred to pick me up.

"I don't think so. It wasn't that much fun," I say. Slade hasn't said anything about it anyways.

"How's your paperwork coming?" I change the subject.

"Not almost done," Bruce answers, "Has Alfred managed to bribe Stephanie yet?"

I shift back my weight, picking one hand off the ground so all my weight is on my left hand. The carpet feels prickly on my palm so I switch hands.

"Maybe? She's got her computer open."

"Doesn't mean anything. Just look at Tim."

I squeeze my abs and let my legs fall forwards. My heels land on the floor and the momentum carries me to my feet.

"You knew?!"

"Of course," Bruce almost looks offended that I'd doubted him. Almost. He more looks amused, "He always fidgets when he's thinking. He's too focused on his act to move around."

"Wait, but… you always gave me such a hard time about finishing my homework and you haven't said anything to him?!"

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"How's that math packet coming, again?"

"Bruce! You made me finish all my homework in July! And then you gave me that binder of geography worksheets! I still know more about the topology of Finland than everyone in my entire school!"

"You're welcome," Bruce answers seriously. The corner of his mouth ticks up, "I admit that was a bit… unnecessary given that you were ten."

"I told you that when you gave it to me!"

"Okay, yes, Dick I'm sorry about that. But I have had some time to realize that schoolwork is not necessarily the most important part of summer break and frankly, Tim is learning more with his scheme than through a single book report."

"What do you mean?"

"The effort involved in a long-term act of subterfuge? He's mapped out times and patterns for each of his habits according to who's in the room with him. He made a spreadsheet to figure out how long Alfred would stay and watch him work and at what intervals he comes back in to check. He's even been researching behaviors of productive people and child psychology of different age groups."

"Wait. That parenting magazine that Alfred found last week…"

"Tim ordered it off my card. He asked me if he could get it for a friend's mom who's a psychiatrist. I think he even went as far as to ask her if she'd like a subscription. It's impossible not to see that he's been thorough."

Oh man, Timmy.

"So, you're telling me you really don't care?"

"Of course, I'm not mad," the smile drops off his face and it's replaced by the sternest Batglare I've ever seen, "I'm disappointed."

"You are an evil man," I shake my head, "Do we still have time for a few sparring rounds before dinner?"

"As tempting as bi-weekly reports are, I think we can fit that in."

Gotham Academy

Monday, August 20th, 2012

"We'll laugh about this someday."

The camera flashes before Artemis has a chance to process anything, and then I'm gone.

"Dick? What was that?"

I whirl around, my smile splitting across my face.

"Babs!"

There's a blur of red hair and a beaming smile, and then we're tackling each other.

"How was Europe?!" I ask when we separate from the hug.

She's bouncing on her feet as she says, "It was great! The exhibitions were amazing and we got to train at the gym Béla Károlyi worked at! It was so awesome! You would have loved it!"

"That sounds amazing!"

"And, while I was there I got my Silivas!"

"That's the double front twisting double back twist thing, right?"

"Yeah!"

"That's incredible! You're going to qualify for sure!"

Barbara is an elite gymnast. Last season she was number nine in the country and qualified for a full-summer training program abroad. Olympic trials are in two years and there's no one who deserves it more.

"It's still a long time away," she blushes.

"Just think about how exciting it is for me! I'm best friends with a future Olympian!"

"Dick!" she tries to hit me on the arm, but I move in and put my arm around her shoulder instead. Together, we walk into a new school year at Gotham Academy. We're both ninth graders, although Babs is a year older than me since I skipped a grade.

"I can't believe we got so lucky with our classes!" she unfolds her schedule from her jacket pocket.

"Crazy, right? Almost like this system got hacked…"

"You didn't!" Babs hisses, looking delighted at the thought.

"Once you got your schedule, I just flagged myself as priority for your sections. It wasn't even hacking, really. But not for bio."

"You're not in AP?"

I shake my head.

"Nah. Just honors. But all the other classes are the same."

Babs leans in to hug me again, "You're the best! This year is going to be great!"

The bell rings, signaling five minutes to class.

"Do you know where English is?" I ask her.

"Second floor, first room after the staircase. I hear Mrs. McKendrick is really nice," she answers.

"As long as we don't have to read too much Shakespeare."

"Oh please. You love anyone who invents that many words. How's B?"

I smirk. We thought we were so clever with that codename, but Babs can't exactly ask me how Batman is doing, "He's good. Still a little psycho around the edges, but I think he's getting better. Speaking of which, Robin was inducted into the Justice League."

Babs stops walking. A group of juniors almost bumps into her, but they weave around quickly, "Seriously? When?! Why didn't I know about this?"

"In July. It's… not as cool as it sounds," I take a breath and look around, trying to see if anyone is listening in, "We weren't really accepted into the League, and it might have gotten a little messy, but we got our own team. It's covert, so B tried to keep it quiet. We're not good at the covert part though."

"Still cool," Babs says brightly, "Wait, we?"

"Yeah. Kid Flash, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, and Artemis."

"Whoa! Totally don't know who the last three are. What about Speedy?"

I frown.

"He quit."

"What?!"

"Shh!"

"Sorry! What?" Babs whispers.

"He got angry that the League lied to us, and he doesn't want to come back."

"Are… are you okay with that?"

"No," I huff, "I mean, I get that it's his life, but this is bigger than him. At least, it's supposed to be. And he just left like none of the stuff he's done mattered."

"I'm sorry, Dick."

"It's okay, I'm just still trying to wrap my head around it."

"Yeah… hey have you seen the gym yet?" Babs asks suddenly.

"No… why?"

"It's totally trashed! During the summer, there was some kind of attack and the gym and some of the lockers and classes got smashed up. They're working on renovations but it's still a mess,"

I grin.

"You want the play by play?" I ask her.

"No way!" Babs grins, "That was you?"

"Junior Justice League, at your service," I bow dramatically.

"Who was it?"

"Ivo. He built this AMAZO robot that could learn and copy its opponents. It took the League four hours to beat it!" my smile widens, "It took us like fifteen minutes."

"It was probably reset to factory settings," Babs teases.

"Nope. Full powers of the Justice League."

"So, what happened?"

"We were escorting the trucks carrying the disassembled robot to STAR labs. Miss Martian, KF and Aqualad took one and Superboy and Robin had the other. Ivo sent his MONQIs to hijack the trucks and reassemble AMAZO. Superboy went berserk, tracked the train, and everyone regrouped at Gotham Academy to fight him. Long story short, we played keep away with Ivo and Artemis saved our butts."

"Artemis… Artemis…. Uh… wait, Artemis 'we'll laugh about me coming up behind you and randomly taking a picture someday' Artemis?"

"Yeah! We were a little iffy at first, but she's cool and it's nice to have an archer on the team."

"Ohhhh," Babs says, eyes wide as she connects the dots, "Dick, you shouldn't scare people on their first day at school. Even if they're your teammate. Especially if they're… trained assassins?"

"You're no fun."

"You wound me! Anyways, the gym is trashed so we'll be having it outside for a while."

"They didn't cancel it? Damn. Maybe I should ask Superboy to smash the rest of it."

"Do it!" Babs laughs. She holds the door to the stairwell open and gestures me through.

"What did they tell the rest of the school?" I ask as we start climbing stairs. Babs grins from ear to ear.

"Malfunctioning construction equipment."

"Seriously?"

"Right?!" Babs agrees gleefully, "Everyone knows it's a big fat lie, but Dad says the real reason is for the insurance company… construction damage looks way better for insurance premiums than superhero battles."

I shake my head in disbelief.

"La verità è anzi più strana della finzione," I mutter.

"What does that mean?"

"The truth is stranger than fiction."

"Says the guy who hangs out with aliens and magicians," Babs laughs, "I always forget how many languages you speak."

"No sé a qué te refieres," I shake my head sadly, "Tu oublies mon génie."

"I don't know what you said but, unde este toaleta?"

"They didn't teach you many phrases in Romania, did they?" I tease.

"Nope! But if someone needs to find the bathroom, I'm their girl."

The door to our classroom is open and Babs and I file in. About half the class is already sitting, looking at their phones or talking to each other.

"Hey, it's Josh!" Babs points, and sure enough Josh Pines is pointing at the two empty desks in the room in front of him. We walk over and Babs claims the desk on the left, leaving me right in front of Josh.

"Hey Dick! How was your summer?" Josh asks.

"It was great! How was yours?"

"Eh…" Josh starts, looking around awkwardly, "I mean I went to camp the whole summer, but my step-mom is on this whole health-food-vegan-organic warpath, so I haven't eaten anything that isn't leafy and green since I've been back."

Babs and I stare in horror.

"I'm so sorry," Babs says.

"Nah, don't be. Because you know what I've got?"

"A lower risk of heart disease from high cholesterol?" I grin, raising an eyebrow.

"Lunch money, and you better believe I'm going for the mozz sticks."

"Nice," Babs fist bumps him. Josh and Babs have been friends since third grade, when he got called a faggot at recess and Babs punched the bully so hard he blacked out. Josh and I have been friends since we got partnered on a Health class project last year. He's a great partner because he's smart, does his fair share of the work on time, and will provide a scathing commentary on the idiocies occurring in the surrounding room. Exactly what you want in a gym class group project partner.

"Oh, before I forget, you both should come to the information meeting after school."

"For your sister's community service thing?" Babs asks.

"She graduated last year, so I'm taking it over. You should both come. I've got… dun dun da da… pamphlets!"

"He's got pamphlets," I tell Babs.

"What choice do we have?" She nods seriously just as the bell rings and a tall woman wearing bright blue heels walks into the room.

"Good morning, everyone! It looks like everyone is here, so let's get started. I'm Mrs. McKendrick and we're going to have a lot of fun this semester."

"Golly gee, I can't wait!" Josh whispers to me at the same time Babs mutters, "She hit six squares on buzzword bingo."

This is going to be a good class.

Wayne Manor

"Josh wants me to join his community service group. It's designed to try to connect Gotham Academy students to families who live in the slums. It meets three times a week and they do a bunch of different projects around the city, like doing food and toy drives, and I think they even collaborate with some food banks. The next meeting is on Wednesday. Can I go?"

Bruce looks at Alfred, who nods.

"I don't see why not. But Dick, you're already so busy. Are you sure you want to do more stuff?"

I nod enthusiastically.

"Yeah! Josh says it's really fun and you get a bunch of community service hours for doing it."

And I really am excited for it. Josh's charity group is exactly what I want to be doing. Bruce has given me so much, and I want to use what I have to help other people who haven't been adopted by a billionaire. Too bad Slade wants me to use it as a cover, so I'll barely be able to actually go.

"If you're sure, then I'm all for it."

"Thanks Bruce! Thanks Alf!"

Once I'm out of the kitchen, I make a beeline to my room. I hate lying to Bruce! Aside from the fact that I feel horrible about it, they don't call him the world's greatest detective for nothing. I'm not a great liar. What am I going to do if he gets suspicious? Does he already suspect something? I rub my eyes and lie down on the bed. I have to relax. All this stuff with Slade, it's really not a big deal. It's just training.

My phone buzzes. I type in my passcode to check the text message.

"Can you do the community service group?"

I type, "He says okay but he's worried I'll be too busy."

"Will you be able to handle it?"

I scowl, "Yes."

"If you can't, I'll arrange something else."

"It's fine."

Slade doesn't answer after that, so I take a breath and delete all the messages. It's not the most secure way of getting rid of them, but it's just in case someone tries looking through my phone. It's not going to stand up to any real scrutiny, but Bruce doesn't go through my messages. He respects my privacy.

My stomach hurts.

I don't want Slade making my schedule. I get why he's worried about Bruce getting suspicious, but even if he's right, it's my life! I don't want him picking what classes I can take or what clubs I can do or what days I can train with my team! But if I tell him to butt out of it, I'm worried he'll think I'm not taking the training seriously. It's helping me so much and it's not that I don't want to do it, I just wish Slade would back off a little. I just wish there was some way to tell him that without freaking him out. I'm not going to tell Batman about him! I thought he knew that by now!

But whenever I try to ask if we can slow down or go back to the old training schedule, he thinks I'm threatening to rat him out! When we started, it was every three weeks and it made a lot of sense when he suggested switching to every other week. Once I could move past the basics, I needed to put more time in to keep improving. And once we started weapons training on top of hand-to-hand combat, there was a lot more stuff to work on, so I was okay to meet every week. But twice a week? That's so much!

Okay, sure, between the time I spend coding with Hardison and Slade teaching me about villains, we're losing combat practice. He doesn't get anything out of telling me about them; he's only doing it to help me. Maybe if we stop doing that, he'll be okay to keep it at one session a week? But I don't want to stop. It's already paid off and we've only been on two missions since then. I only thought to check the MONQIs for GPS because Slade taught me about Ivo. What if the next time the team is on a mission, I miss something huge because I wasn't prepared for the villain's tricks? I can't risk that.

I guess twice a week isn't that bad.

The community service group is a really good excuse. Besides, once a week I'll still get to hang out with Josh and work in the soup kitchen.

It'll be fun.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Mount Justice

Friday, August 31st, 2012

"I need to talk to Aqualad," Batman says and the rest of the team starts to disband. I wait.

"Just Aqualad."

Oh.

Without looking at Batman's face, I turn and follow Wally out the door. The team heads for the showers. Wally tries lightening the mood but everything he says just makes the silence worse.

"I guess it just got a little... muddied up? Right?" Wally grins. I scowl and he shakes his head, "Hey, relax Rob. It was one bad mission, that's not the end of the world."

"I'm fine, Wally."

"Come on, man. I know you better than that. This isn't a big deal. So Clayface kicked our assess, but we'll get him next time, you know?"

"I said I'm fine!"

Conner turns to look at me from the door to the guys' locker room but he doesn't say anything. I storm off to my room to change, abandoning the showers completely. Wally doesn't follow me.

Just Aqualad.

I slam the door to my room shut so hard the room vibrates.

Just.

Aqualad.

I start ripping off my uniform, starting with the mud-covered mask sticking to my face. The cape comes free with a sharp tug at the release panel and I throw it on the floor with a loud gust of air.

I thought we were partners. I thought he trusted me, counted on me, appreciated me but no! I should know better by now! I should've known when Batman never told me about the Watchtower! I should've known when he lied to me about joining the League! Just the fact that they formed this team instead of letting us onto the real League proves that they don't trust us! How am I still surprised that Batman doesn't trust me? How does it still hurt so badly every single time something happens to bring it up again? I know I'm not good enough to lead this team. I get it! And Aqualad is a good leader. He deserves to be our leader. I just…

Instead of trying to figure out what I'm trying to say, I slam my closet door shut and pull my green hoodie over my head. My sunglasses are the only thing on the desk. The rest of the room is just as empty. I throw myself on the bed, hot tears pricking at my eyes.

Everybody else has decorated their rooms. Wally stuffed boxes of his favorite protein bars and about two hundred packages of fruit roll-ups in his room. He also replaced the sheets with a Superman duvet. Uncle Barry switched that with a Flash-themed one. Wally changed it back, but the next time Uncle Barry stopped by the mountain, the Flash theme was back. Plus, matching pillow cases. At this point Wally has the biggest collection of Flash merchandise in existence.

Artemis was super excited to decorate her room, since her parents weren't big on personal expression or something. She and M'gann painted the walls dark green and they roped Superboy into helping them paint constellations on the ceiling, since he's got an encyclopedic knowledge. Black Canary was less than thrilled about the amount of paint they tracked onto the training floor, but I know Aunt Dinah was happy they were bonding. Artemis spends a ton of time in her room now. She and M'gann went on a shopping spree and bought matching stuff for their rooms, including green and blue beanbag chairs and lava lamps because they got carried away.

M'gann's room is filled with landscape paintings and posters of Earth as seen from space. She also loves old-timey furniture so her whole room feels really vintage. She also started filling a wall of pictures of the Team, which was annoying at first because she wouldn't stop taking pictures with the digital camera I got her, but once she started putting them on the wall it was… nice. Seeing pictures of the whole team together, not even doing heroic things, just chilling or watching a movie, it's really nice. She also has beanbag chairs and a lava lamp to match Artemis.

Kaldur's is…

Just Aqualad.

…

Superboy's room is the only one as boring than mine. But he does have this poster of a turtle that one of the Terror Twins hit Kid Flash with during their epic mall showdown. And honestly, I think that expresses his personality better than anything else. My room is the only one that hasn't been decorated. I just don't spend any time in here. I already have a huge bedroom at home. I don't need two... or three.

My stomach twists and I sit on the end of the bed. It's a full mattress, smaller than the one I have at home, but bigger than the one in Slade's hideout. Thinking of Slade is a mistake; once the thought hits, the wave of anger doesn't stop.

I'm supposed to be getting better! That's the whole point of this stupid training! But I'm not getting better! I can't do anything right! I'm not a leader, I can't follow orders right, and I was useless against Clayface! I knew what he was doing! I knew it was a trap, and I knew that whatever I saw wasn't real. But when it came down to it, it didn't matter. I was scared to hurt Wally and left myself wide open. What's the point of this?!

I let my head drop into my hands.

How is it that I know so many breathing exercises and the idea of trying one of them right now just makes me even angrier?

There's a soft knock at the door.

"What?!" I snap, shoving my sunglasses onto my face because I can't trust anyone, not even my friends. Batman doesn't trust them and he doesn't trust me and I'm not good enough at anything to prove him otherwise.

"Can I come in, Robin?" M'gann asks quietly. Her voice drops the way it always does when she knows that she messed up but doesn't understand Earth well enough to know what she did wrong. My stomach curls again. Why is she coming to me? I can't help her figure out what she did wrong against Clayface. Black Canary won't yell at her for asking and Canary's a hell of a lot better at giving advice than I am.

But despite the urge to yell, "Leave me alone," the words stick in my throat.

"Yeah, M'gann. The door's open."

She eases the door open slowly. M'gann hesitates in the doorway, dressed in her civvies with damp hair soaking into her sweater.

"What do you want?"

She flinches and I refuse to feel guilty. My stomach twists anyway.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay. You seemed really upset," M'gann says with a strained smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"I'm fine."

M'gann frowns and shuts the door behind her. I sit up instead of staying sprawled out across the bed. It's not the comfortable anyway.

"Robin, you don't have to pretend to be okay. I'm your friend. If you need to talk, I'm here for you. Just like you're always here for us."

I shake my head, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"M'gann, I know you want to help but I can't… there's nothing you can do."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because I'm not allowed to tell you anything! Batman won't even let me tell you my name! I can't tell you why I'm upset right now because you don't know anything about me or about him. Yeah, I'm upset right now, but I get why he said what he said. It doesn't make me feel any better and I can't explain any of it to you or anyone else."

"I'm sorry. I never thought about how hard it would be for you not to tell us."

"It's not your fault."

"So… you're just upset because Batman only wanted to talk to Kaldur?" M'gann asks quietly. I huff.

"No, I'm not 'just upset' because of that. M'gann, when we were fighting Clayface, I knew it was a trap and I fell for it anyways. I'm upset because I'm supposed to be better than that! I know it and Batman sure as hell knows it."

"Clayface tricked all of us," M'gann reminds me. Her forehead creases and her lips tighten like there's something she really wants to say but doesn't know how to, "Nobody expects you to be perfect. None of us are, and that's why we're a team. We're supposed to have each other's backs instead of trying to handle everything by ourselves."

She doesn't get it. How could she know? It's not about being perfect. It's about not making the same mistakes again. The training with Slade, it has to pay off. All the lying, all the hours of training, it has to be worth it and the only way that it can be is if I get better. To be the best fighter and hero that I can possibly be.

"Robin, you don't have to handle everything by yourself," M'gann twists her fingers together anxiously, but the look on her face is starting to freak me out.

"Look, I appreciate you trying to help but really, it's okay—"

"Who is he?" M'gann cuts me off sharply, reaching out to squeeze my arm.

"Who? What are you talking about?" I try to pull back but she tightens her grip.

"Slade."

My heart stops.

I forget how to breathe.

"Where did you hear that name?" I force out.

"From you."

"What?"

My heartbeat kickstarts itself and thuds against my chest so hard it hurts.

"Robin, I try really, really hard to keep my shields up and respect everyone's privacy but sometimes you all just project so loudly. It doesn't happen much but sometimes when you get angry or scared, there's things that come through. I keep seeing these fragments of your memories where you'd be fighting with someone and I... I actually thought it was Batman at first."

"M'gann."

"But it didn't make sense. Batman would never hurt you like that!" she continues without stopping, "I didn't want to say anything but I have to know. You're working for him?"

"No! You don't understand, I don't work for him. I just…" My jaw clenches and I look nervously at the door, "It's just training."

M'gann shakes her head and there are tears welling in her eyes.

"Robin, I've seen some of your memories. He's not training you. He's hurting you."

I take a breath and let it out through my nose, looking at the wall. I can't panic. I just have to make her understand.

"He saved my life, M'gann. He's trying to help me."

"Help you do what?" she demands.

"Be a better hero! And a better fighter!"

"Then why is it a secret?"

"Because Batman can't find out about it," I hiss, "Slade saved my life and all he's done since then is teach me how to fight. If Batman finds out that Slade is in Gotham, he won't stop until he arrests him. I'm not going to let that happen. I owe him way too much for that."

M'gann looks stunned.

"You… want him to train you?"

"Yeah, M'gann. I do."

"Even if you have to lie to Batman and go behind everyone's backs?" she asks bluntly.

I wince.

"Please listen to me. You can't tell anyone. If the League finds out about Slade, or if Batman finds out, it'll put him at risk. Everything he's done has been to help me and he's already put himself in danger for me. Please, promise me you won't tell anyone."

"You trust him that much?" M'gann frowns. Looking her straight in the eyes, I nod. Somehow, I have to make her understand.

"He saved my life. I promised him I wouldn't tell the League or Batman about him and if you tell them about him it'll—"

"I won't," she interrupts quietly, "I know about secrets. If you need me to keep this a secret, I will."

I blink at her. Does she really think I'm that stupid? She's going to tell Canary as soon as she leaves the room. I have to make her understand.

"You don't get it."

"What don't I get?" a strange expression crosses her face, almost a challenge.

"Everything I do, it's to try to get better. Batman is a great mentor, he really is, but he just wants me to be good enough. I don't have any powers, I'm never going to be the strongest or the fastest or the smartest, and if I stop pushing myself, I'm scared that I'm going to mess up. And if I mess up badly enough, someone might get hurt and I can't risk that. Slade pushes me to always get better and yeah, he can be really tough, but it's working. The League won't understand. They don't know what it's like not to have powers to fall back on if stuff goes wrong. I have to keep training with Slade."

M'gann's frown deepens. She squeezes her eyes shut, her face going ashen for a second, but then she stands up. Her hands curl into tight fists at her side.

"Robin, it's okay. I know about keeping secrets. I understand better than anyone else could," she says. Her voice is so solemn that for a second, I don't recognize her. M'gann is happy and bubbly and silly and the girl in front of me isn't any of that.

"What are you talking about?"

"I trust you, Robin. I really do. If you can trust me to keep your secret, then I can trust you to keep mine."

"Your secret?" I blurt, all thoughts of Slade replaced by confusion.

"I thought I could hide it but it's so hard and… I don't want to hide this anymore. I… I thought… I can't."

She closes her eyes and looks down. Then it happens. She starts to change, growing massive as her spine hunches over and her limbs elongate. Her skin bleaches to a shade of white so pale it glows. Her hair recedes into her head as red muscle bubbles out along her neck, chest and joints. Her features sink into her face, leaving skeletal jaws and red eyes.

I step back. My jaw drops.

"You… you're…"

'A white Martian. I'm a monster,' her words resonates through my mind, exhausted and afraid. Suddenly, I find my voice.

"What are you talking about? M'gann, how can you say that? You're not a monster."

'Robin, look at me and tell me that.'

"I am," I cross my arms over my chest, "I already knew you're a shape-shifting alien. I know you. What you look like doesn't make you a monster."

M'gann shifts, covering her body with her arms like she's trying to hug herself.

'You don't understand.'

The retort dies when I get hit with a wave of fear that makes my stomach curl with nausea. There's a long silence, both of us watching the other silently.

The longer I look at her real form, the more it seems to suit her. M'gann relies on telekinesis a lot, which makes sense if she's used to having longer limbs. And if her real body doesn't have a mouth, no wonder telepathy comes more naturally than speech. And maybe the red eyes were a little freaky at first, but it's still M'gann. I don't care what she looks like. I have no idea where her fear is coming from.

"Why do you think you're a monster?" I ask slowly, "Why haven't you shown the rest of the team what you look like? We all know you're a Martian. It's not a big deal that you want to use a human form while you're here."

M'gann takes the telepathic equivalent of a deep breath.

'I always forget that you don't know what life is like on Mars,' M'gann starts, looking down at the ground. 'The majority of Martians are green, like Uncle J'onn and most of my brothers and sisters. Green Martians are genetically inclined towards peace and philosophical study. They build society up and keep our culture strong and beautiful. White Martians are… violent and savage. Almost a hundred years ago, the White Martians started a war, trying to exterminate the Green Martians. They fought back to defend themselves, and in the end, the White Martians were barely defeated. Any surviving warriors were exiled to the Still Zone, and it was only because of the compassion of the Green Martians that the White children were spared.'

My jaw drops.

"That's horrible."

'We're dangerous. The laws put into place following the war were done for the protection of Mars, to ensure peace.'

"What kind of laws?" I ask, my stomach sinking.

'There are many regulations about where we are allowed to go, and what areas we must be accompanied by a Green Martian to enter. About how many White Martians can be in a clan. We can't own property because we're too territorial. We can't…'

There's a long, painful pause.

'I'm sure you get the idea.'

"M'gann, I had no idea. That's horrible."

'Uncle J'onn is giving me a chance I never thought I'd get. I can't mess it up and if the Team finds out what I really am… how can they trust me?'

M'gann pulls her arms close to her chest, making herself look smaller. I take two steps and wrap my arms around her in a hug. She shudders before leaning in and suddenly she's shrinking and then M'gann is back to her human form, wrapping her arms around me. Tears run down her face and it hits me that Earth is her safe haven. Her whole life, she's grown up hearing that she's dangerous, that she's a menace to her people, that she's inferior.

It's horrifyingly close to the stories my parents told me about when they were growing up, about the prejudices left over from World Wars and decades of propaganda before that. I think about how the genocide against millions of people started with them being labelled "inferior," Suddenly, I hate Mars with a burning fury and I grab M'gann in an even tighter hug.

"I won't let them send you back. Ever."

"You don't hate me?" she asks.

"Never."

"You promise you won't tell anyone?" M'gann demands.

"I promise,"

Under the full weight of the knowledge she's trusting me with, my secret seems like nothing in comparison. I'll keep her secret.

"Thank you."

"The others won't care," I tell her, trying to keep my voice from shaking, "If you tell them the truth, it won't change what they think about you. You're our friend and we love you."

M'gann stiffens, "I can't take that chance. Earth is everything to me. If I lose it…"

"I know. I just wanted you to know that… but I won't tell anyone, M'gann. I promise."

"Thank you," she whispers, tightening her grip for a second before releasing.

I turn away so I can take off my sunglasses and wipe my eyes. M'gann straightens and takes deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The room is quiet. One of the benefits of having natural cave walls is that the mountain is really well sound-proofed. We can't hear anything outside, and nobody else is going to be able to listen in. I sit on the bed and M'gann slides to the side to make room. We sit together, staring at the wall. Her fingers wrap around mine and I squeeze her hand in response.

"I thought Earth would be different," she confesses, "And it is! In so many ways, it's so much better, but there's still so much cruelty here. Even here, in America."

"That's why we do this. To fight injustice however we can."

"What's going to happen now?"

"I don't know. We watch each other's backs."

M'gann is quiet for a long time. Her hand is still clenched around mine and I can feel her pulse settle.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to tell me. But it feels… freeing, to tell the truth," she offers. I try to swallow but the lump in my throat makes it impossible. She's still trying to help me, even with everything that she's going through. I don't deserve a friend like her.

"It's not much of a story. And I'm not supposed to tell anyone anything. That was our deal."

'Do you want to tell me?' The mind link is suddenly more familiar and more comfortable than it's ever been. I close my eyes. M'gann wraps her arm around my shoulder again and now it's my turn to lean in.

'Yeah.'

'Then we keep each other's secrets. You can tell me anything.'

I exhale through my nose, emptying my lungs so I can take a deep breath. My mouth opens on its own and words start spilling out.

"My name is Richard Grayson. I grew up in the circus with my parents and my aunt and uncle and cousin. They were murdered when I was eight, by a man who was trying to extort money from the ringmaster. Batman took me in and helped me bring him to justice…"

The Batcave

"You're back?" Bruce says as I step off the Zeta-beam platform.

"Am I not supposed to be here?" I ask, clutching the bag with my uniform in front of my chest.

"No! I mean, that's not what I meant. I just thought you were staying the night."

"I wanted to be home."

"Oh," Bruce nods, "I mean, good! That's good. I'm happy to hear that."

I give him a half-smile that doesn't really reach my eyes. I'm too tired to feel anything but numbness. M'gann was right. Telling her the truth has lifted a weight off my chest that I never knew was there. But it was exhausting and now, all I want to do is go to bed. I start for the stairs that lead up to the manor, staring up at the giant t-rex as I pass it. There's a package of crayons and some paper on his back. Probably Cassie's but everyone loves climbing Rexy McDinoface. Everyone helped named him; I used to call him Bat-Rex, but I was overruled.

The Batcave is darker than usual. The lights over the trophy cases are off, and most of the spotlights in the upper sections of the cave have been dimmed, but that's normal for when Batman is working by himself at night. My eyes sweep over the motorcycle near the exit ramp, still parked where I left it after last patrol. I'm going to need to move it back to the garage soon or Bruce will yell at me.

"Night Bruce," I mutter, climbing up the steps.

"Wait."

I turn around.

Bruce runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It didn't have anything to do with you."

"It felt like it did," I grumble.

"I'm sorry. That's my fault."

I pinch my lips together but don't say anything.

"Dick, I don't tell you this enough, but I'm very proud of you. Clayface is a dangerous opponent, and I don't want you to think that tonight is a reflection of your skills."

I shrug. Bruce moves forwards, kneeling so that we're at eye-level. He puts his hands on my shoulders gently.

"When you're part of a team, you're only as strong as your ability to work together. What happened tonight was the result of distraction and a lack of cooperation, not failure of any one person. The more you work with your team, the more capable you will all become. That takes time, and this is part of the learning process. You're doing great, Robin. I mean that."

I lunge forwards to pull him into a hug and he hugs back firmly.

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Somewhere in the Bialyan Desert

Monday, September 3rd, 2012

My eyes open and the blinding light sends spike of pain shooting through my skull. I let out a cry and grab my head, waiting for the pain to stop. Slowly, it settles into a pounding headache that I can at least tolerate. I sit up, wincing when my head throbs again. My mouth is dry and my throat hurts like I swallowed a pile of broken glass. I rub my eyes to relieve the pressure and my hands meet fabric. I'm wearing my mask.

I open my eyes and my mouth drops open. I slam my eyes shut and open them again more slowly to make sure I saw it right the first time. The desert is still there. It's bright and empty, with nothing but yellow cliffs and orange sand as far as I can see. I push myself up using the rock wall at my back. The second I'm on my feet, my head throbs again and I realize just how thirsty I am. With another groan, I walk to the end and look around. A dust cloud forms in the distance, smoky, billowing and dark. The sound of an engine fills the air and my eyes widen.

Someone's coming.

I shoot my grappling gun up into the cliff side and duck between the rocks, hoping that I'm out of sight because my uniform colors could not stand out more. The engine roars and a military grade rover zooms past, armed soldiers hanging off the sides. I study the insignias as best as I can from my hiding place. The truck speeds off towards the east—judging by the position of the sun it's about twelve in the morning—as I try to remember what the insignias represent.

"Those are Bialyan Republican Army Uniforms," I realize suddenly, reaching for my holocomputer, "But what are Bialyans doing in, uh…"

The holocomputer displays my last open program, which for some reason is a GPS map and a red circle flashing over...

"Bialya? Okay, better question. What am I doing in Bialya?"

The timestamp on the bottom of the screen catches my eye.

12:02 03 – 09.

09.

"In September?! What happened to March?! What the hell is going on? Why am I in Bialya anyway? And where's Batman?"

My head aches again.

"Better radio him. He probably scouted ahead and got me lost," I mutter, raising my hand to the comm in my ear but before I can press it, I remember something.

"Maintain radio silence at all times," Batman orders in front of the same GPS map as the one on my holocomputer.

"Or not," I pull my hand away from the comm. I scan the horizon, but it's all clear. Taking two steps off the yellow cliffs, I launch myself into the air and flip, landing softly on the ground. There's a small rock formation sticking out of the ground, covered by something black and red. I pick it up and my eyes narrow.

It's a ripped piece of fabric with Superman's shield on it.

Superman doesn't wear black. He never has and I've heard him and Lois arguing about whether or not it would make him look evil too many times to believe that he ever will. Whoever's this is, it's not Superman's. But there's a reason this is here. There's no normal explanation for why Superman's symbol is in the middle of the Bialyan desert.

A bead of sweat rolls down my back and I lick my lips but there's barely any moisture left in my mouth. I check my utility belt, hoping for something that will help. Against all odds, there's a flask clipped to the back of my belt where mission-specific tools go. The flask is mostly empty, but there's still some liquid sloshing around when I shake it. I unscrew it carefully and take a small sip. The water is cool and soothing against my dry throat and it takes all the self-control I have not to drink it all at once. I screw the cap on tightly and clip the flask back onto my belt for later. My stomach growls and I reach for a protein bar. Luckily, the food-stash Batman commanded me to keep fully stocked at all times still has three bars left. That means I've already eaten two of them. Or at least, someone else has eaten them, judging by the fact that I still have water left and I don't think I've eaten in a while. I rip open the wrapper and take a big bite.

The sun is still beating down overhead and I look around for a shady spot. There's a little crevice between two rocks walls that gives me an idea. I pull on the release clip and tug off my cape. I pile rocks on one end of the cape and stretch it across the gap, yellow side up for camouflage, then I loop the top around a weirdly-shaped rock formation. It's not pretty, but there's a big spot of shade underneath my makeshift tent. I sit down and lean against the rock, letting out a deep breath now that I'm out of the sun. Sweat beads around my mask, making it itch unpleasantly, and I'm tempted to take it off. Instead, I pull off my gloves and let my fingers breathe. Heat radiates off my hands and I wrinkle my nose at the smell.

I must have been wearing these for a while.

A breeze drifts through and the cool air feels incredible. I try not to think about the fact that I'm stranded in the middle of the Bialyan desert with no contact and limited supplies and instead try to focus on figuring this mess out.

How did I get here? Why am I missing six months? Why did Batman say to maintain radio silence? Where did the Superman logo come from?

"You've got superhearing, right Supes? If I stood up and yelled 'Superman' would you come?" I laugh, fanning myself with my hands, "That's a great idea, isn't it?"

It would probably work. It would also probably draw the Bialyan Army to my position. I lean my head back again, staring up at the black fabric of my cape. There are some weird brown stains on it that I hadn't noticed before. Did I have a run-in with Clayface that I forgot about?

"Definitely time for a cleaning."

The wind rushes past again, and it's the only sound for miles. It's eerie.

Eerie.

That's a great word. Not much room for improvement. What if it was spelled Eery? Hm. No, that's just weird.

"Why am I in Bialya?" I mutter, laying my glove across my lap to access the computer again. The GPS map appears and I study it carefully.

Batman sent me. I know that much for certain. What do I know about Bialya? It's a dictatorship, ruled by Queen Bee. That's about it. What do I know about Queen Bee?

Another memory jumps back at me.

"She's capable of enthralling anyone with a mature endocrine system with an attraction to women. Fortunately for you, it will be several years until you reach that point. Regardless, you should not engage her. The metahumans in her employ are incredibly dangerous. Should you ever meet Psimon, you will be fortunate to retain any brain function afterwards," Slade instructs and my hand flies across the page of notes.

Psimon! He's her most trusted enforcer and he's definitely capable of wiping out six months' worth of memories! But since when has Slade taught me about villains? If what I remember is really from six months ago, then has everything changed so much so fast? I never train with Slade more than twice a month, and we're still working on the basics of combat technique. Why would he be teaching me about supervillains?

A shiver runs down my spine.

"That's a little overwhelming," I say slowly, "But... it does explain some things. So what did the Queen do that made Batman send me to Bialya?"

I look back at the map and there's a GPS marker on a spot four miles directly east of here. Which is, of course, the direction that the Bialyan troops went in. At a normal speed, that would take maybe an hour and twenty minutes to walk. But right now? In the middle of the desert with limited water, food and a questionable amount of sleep? It's going to take at least triple that.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I pull my gloves back on, re-attach my cape and take another small sip from my flask.

"Let's go figure out what the hell I'm doing here."

By the time I approach the marker, the moon is high and the night sky paints a blue light over the sand dunes. I'm almost out of water, but the cool night air makes it easier to forget how thirsty I am. I just hope I can figure this out soon, or else I'm going to be in big trouble. I pull up the map as I climb the nearest sand dune.

"Now where are you?" I mutter as I get closer to the dot on the screen.

I scan the horizon in front of me. Beyond the next dunes, the sand slopes down. In the center of the pit, there's a huge mechanical box shaped like a giant trapezoid that has "League tech" written all over it. Not literally, but it might as well. I duck behind a huge sand dune for cover.

"Found you," I grin. Slowly, I peer over the top of the dune. This is definitely a trap. I'd honestly be more surprised if it wasn't a trap.

I scan across the sandy plane. There's no one in sight, but my gut still says something's wrong. I look more closely at the sand. After trekking through the desert for almost five hours, I know a thing or two about sand. Sand is coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. I'm going to be pulling sand out of my uniform for the next month after this. But sand also lies flat or in peaks. The gently sloping sand piles surrounding the giant device look nothing like the thousands of ripples or dunes I've seen today.

I count five of them. I'm probably missing one or two. I jump into the air over my hiding spot and land a few feet from the device. I walk forwards and before I take two steps, soldiers rise out from their hiding spots. I grin.

"Called it," I mutter.

"Her majesty wants him alive!" one of the soldiers shouts. Either that or "Her majesty enjoys newspapers!"

My Bialyan isn't great.

The soldiers rush forwards, and I drop a smoke pellet. The thick black smoke billows out, but the lenses in my mask let me see through it. The Bialyans start coughing, telling me exactly where they are. I kick one in the head, and he's not even looking in the right direction. He collapses, gun flying out of his hands. Two soldiers turn at the noise, guns ready to fire. I throw two bolos at them and they both go down, arms bound at their sides.

I run back into the smoke cloud. The next soldier doesn't see me until I'm right in front of him. I spring up, kneeing him under the chin. The force of the blow sends him flying backwards where he crashes against the ground, flat on his back. I land softly and turn to see that more soldiers have arrived. I pull out two birdarangs in each hand and disarm two of the soldiers. The third one ducks and the projectile whizzes over his head. I charge towards him as two more close in behind me.

Jumping into the air, I grab the third soldier's shoulders and flipping myself over him. I twist, pulling him off-balance and using the momentum to kick the other two in the head. All three go down and I skid to a stop a few feet away. Before I can move, they're back on their feet. Three guns are pointed at me and rage radiates towards me in waves. One of them shouts something and the only word I know is "Fire!"

I flip backwards as they start shooting, landing just beyond their range. They adjust their aim, but before they can shoot, a black blur whizzes past.

"I'll hold that. Thanks!"

The blur skids to a stop and throws down all the guns. I almost cry in relief. Wally grins at me before zooming into the fray. He takes out two while I punch the last one. I hear a trigger click and whirl around to see two more soldiers taking aim. I duck as they fire, but an invisible force throws them back. I turn again to see a green girl materialize out of thin air. Wally takes out three more but the last soldier standing is sprinting away from the battle. There's the sound of an arrow notching and the arrow explodes into a bolo that wraps around the soldier's legs and sends him crashing to the ground.

Okay, so Wally and Speedy are here. Is the rest of the League here too? And who's the green girl standing next to me? I turn around to look for Speedy. Instead, there's a blonde girl dressed in all green. She grins down and Wally gives her a thumbs up in return, so I guess she's with us. Does that mean Speedy isn't?

Now that the battle is over, Wally runs over to me.

"KF!" we high-five and clasp hands tightly, "Man, it's good to see a familiar face."

"Hey, Rob," Wally laughs casually, "Memory loss?"

"Six months!" I exclaim. I nod back at the unconscious soldiers, "Let's hogtie these creeps and compare notes."

There's only seven of them in total, which is kind of disappointing. It seemed like there were way more of them. I've got to work on knocking the bad guys out with one hit. We get them tied up quickly, using rope that was in one of their trucks. Then come introductions.

The green girl introduces herself as Miss Martian. The arrow girl is Artemis. Miss Martian explains what she's remembered so far.

"So we're a team?" I ask when she finishes explaining. There's no way! I'm Batman's partner! I don't have time to be on a team and patrol Gotham too. Not to mention the fact that Batman would never agree to let me join a team. But Miss Martian nods.

"The four of us and Superboy."

Oh! I reach into my utility belt and pull out the scrap of fabric.

"Then this must be his."

"Yes!" Miss Martian exclaims, grabbing it out of my hands and demanding, "Did you see him?"

"I think we did," Artemis answers.

"Feral boy?" Wally asks, rubbing his chin in thought before putting his hands on his hips, "Some teammate. He attacked us."

"He didn't know who we are," Artemis pointed out, throwing her hands wide, "I don't know who we are!"

Wally glares at her and is about to retort, but I jump in before the conversation can deteriorate.

"I remember Batman ordering radio silence. Our team must work for him!"

"How do you know we don't work for my mentor?" Wally demands, tapping the icon on his chest. There's a digital clicking sound and bright yellow spreads out across his suit, turning it from a black version into his normal yellow and red suit.

"Whoa! This is so cool!" he exclaims, tapping his chest again. The rest of us all try tapping our chests but nothing happens.

"We look ridiculous!" Artemis growls. She looks over at Wally who is still changing his suit's colors and her face contorts with irritation. He doesn't notice, "Quit touching yourself!"

Wally looks up at her, his face blank. Without breaking eye contact, he taps his chest again. Artemis groans, "Ugh! We need our memories back!"

Miss Martian looks down, rubbing her wrists. Then she brings her hands up to her temples and her eyes glow with white light. Then suddenly the desert is gone. We're standing on a platform in darkness, surrounded by streaks of purple light and shards of glass that are playing videos of the four of us. In one of them, I see myself in a green sweatshirt and dark glasses, grinning at Wally with this Superboy in between us. A column of light forms, splitting apart the fabric of whatever weird reality this is.

'I brought you into my mind to share what I've remembered so far. But I need your help.'

The column of light solidifies into Miss Martian, curled up in a defensive posture.

"Together, our broken memories can form a whole… if you open your minds to mine."

Artemis backs up fearfully.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on! You want to paw through our private thoughts?!"

Miss Martian holds up her hands, "I have no wish to intrude. But—"

"We need to hack our minds to get what happened to us. Got it. Go," I say, putting my hands on my hips. I'm not crazy about this—judging by the sunglasses, Batman wants me to keep my secrets hidden—but we have to know what happened. Better to just get it over with. Artemis glares at me.

"My brain's all yours. Try not to let its brilliance overwhelm you," Wally announces with a flourish and a wiggle of his eyebrows. I roll my eyes. The worst part about his dumb flirting routine is that Wally is actually a genius. Physics is his entire life outside hero work. But I can't let his head get too big.

"Or underwhelm you," I raise my eyebrows at him, "Hey, why isn't anyone ever just whelmed?"

Artemis still doesn't look convinced, but Wally steps forwards and squeezes her hand. She looks down.

"Last six months only. And only what you need," she finally says. Miss Martian nods firmly. She holds out her arms and closes her eyes. Beams of light shoot out from her hands, and then everything goes dark.

"The Watchtower detected an immense power surge in the Bialyan desert. Spectral analysis revealed elements non-terrestrial in origin. Find out what happened at that site, what landed there. Bialya is a rogue state, ruled by Queen Bee, and not a member of the League's U.N. charter. All communications are suspect to interception. Maintain radio silence at all times," Batman says in front of the GPS map from earlier.

The scene changes and I'm looking through a pair of binoculars.

"You'll land in Quarac, on Bialya's border, two clicks from the hot zone," Batman's voice says.

I look over at where Miss Martian and Artemis are standing watch as Superboy unloads the trapezoid device.

"All clear," I tell them.

The scene changes.

"The Bialyans control the site," Artemis whispers. Artemis and I scale a sand dune and stare over the edge where a makeshift tent had been established.

The scene changes again.

Superboy is still carrying the enormous device.

"Set up here," a voice commands and it takes me a second to place the voice.

The scene changes again.

"We'll be up and running in no time," I hear myself saying, but all I can think about is Kaldur because that was Kaldur's voice and if he was here and he's not now then he's in trouble and we can't just leave him!

"Jackpot!" Wally yells, "The site's lousy with Zeta beam radiation."

"Detecting non-terrestrial trace elements from the tent."

"I'll check it out in camouflage mode," Miss Martian offers.

"Good idea. Go," Kaldur responds confidently.

The scene changes again.

"Careful," Superboy says.

The view pans over to where the rest of us are standing.

"And maintain telepathic contact," Kaldur orders.

"I will Aqualad," Miss Martian responds.

The scene turns to white, and suddenly memories are flooding back into my mind. The past six months fill themselves in and I remember the last months few of junior high and patrolling with Batman and playing hide-and-go seek outside with my brothers and sisters. I remember the day that I was supposed to have become a member of the League, but instead Aqualad, Kid Flash and I infiltrated Cadmus and freed Superboy. I remember arguing with Speedy, going on our first real mission and defeating AMAZO. I remember telling my siblings about Superboy and fighting with Uncle Clark and seeing Babs for the first time in months. I remember Clayface, the failed mission. I remember M'gann coming into my room and telling me that she knew about… about… about…

Black and orange fill my vision and suddenly everything spins and jerks back and the flood becomes a hurricane.

A barrage of memories hit me, all the bad ones at once. I remember the first time Slade brought me to the Haunt, I remember the first time we sparred and he stopped holding back, I remember Slade making me improve my hacking skills, I remember merciless fists pummeling me to the ground for talking back or messing up, I remember lying to Bruce and Alfred and Babs, I remember all the times I snuck away for training, I remember the exhaustion and the pride and the guilt, I remember fear when M'gann came into my room and told me that she knew about Slade. I remember the frustration as he demanded more and more of my time and the stomach curling fear at how much has changed in six months.

The first sensation to come back is that I'm shaking. Then I realize someone is shaking me.

"Robin!" Wally shouts and I open my eyes slowly. I'm on the ground, curled up in the sand. Artemis and Wally are watching me nervously, while M'gann's eyes are wide in horror.

"I'm okay," I tell them, not making eye contact with M'gann. She saw everything. I know it.

Did Artemis and Wally see it too?

Wally squats down and rubs my back in slow circles.

"Are you okay, Rob?"

His voice is so full of concern and helplessness that some of the tension evaporates. If he'd seen it, he would be demanding answers, not checking me for signs of brain damage. I nod.

"Yeah, just a little whelmed."

"What happened?" Artemis demands, looking at M'gann. M'gann frowns and hugs her arms over her chest, but she looks me right in the eye.

"The mind-share was severed," she says intently before looking away, "The sudden influx of memories without a conduit must have overwhelmed his mind for a minute. Robin, I'm so sorry!"

The mind-share was severed. She must have severed it, pushing my mind out so that the others wouldn't see what she saw. She did it for me, to protect my secret.

"It's okay, Miss Martian. I'm fine."

We make eye contact and I nod at her solemnly.

'Thank you.'

She nods back and relaxes, the anxiety fading off her face. I try to stand up but Wally pushes me down.

"Dude, you were shaking! Take it slow."

"I'm fine," I push myself up and Wally grudgingly helps me, "Where's Aqualad? What happened next?"

M'gann and Wally look away.

"We don't remember," Artemis fills in for them, "We don't have any idea where Aqualad is or where they took Superboy. Or why we lost our memories."

"Psimon."

Three sets of eyes snap to me.

"Who?" Wally asks.

"Psimon. He's a powerful psychic and Queen Bee's top enforcer. He has the power to pull off something like this."

"That sounds right," M'gann admits quietly. She looks up, "But we still have to rescue Superboy! And Aqualad!"

I pull up my holocomputer and frantically search for Aqualad's signal.

"He's close! But he's not moving."

"Let's go!" Wally shouts, lowering his goggles.

"Head six-hundred meters west," I point, and he's off in a blur. The three of us start running after him and after a couple seconds we see him trip and fall, crashing into the ground and rolling to a rough stop.

"KF!" I shout. By the time I catch up to him, he's back on his feet and brushing himself off.

"You okay?"

He nods, eyes slightly out of focus.

"Yeah, just low on fuel. Really low."

"Here," I pull out a protein bar and he takes it gratefully.

"How much further?" Artemis asks, eyeing the protein bar enviously. I reach into my utility belt and toss her the last one.

"Thanks," she says, catching it with one hand. Miss Martian's eyes glow and she hovers in the air for a few seconds. Then her eyes fly open and she points at a nearby sand dune.

"Over there!"

We rush over and climb over the dune, picking our way down another slope until we reach Kaldur's unconscious form, lying in the center of a group of rock formations. Kaldur's eyes are closed and he's not moving. M'gann reaches him first, flying directly over to him and putting her hands on his temples. The instant she touches him, he twitches and starts gasping out words in Atlantean.

"Tula, Mi somme, agapa usay."

Tula, my heart, I am with you.

"He needs immediate rehydration!" I shout, "Miss Martian, call the bioship!"

"It's out of range, but you can get him there fast," M'gann protests.

"He's too heavy, and I'm too low on fuel," Wally shakes his head, out of breath and clearly exhausted, "Right now, I couldn't even carry her."

Artemis slaps away the hand that he points at her with a scoff.

"Why not just levitate him back?" she demands.

"I can't. I have to find Superboy!" Miss Martian lays Aqualad down gently and stands. Artemis and I exchange glances, "Six months ago, he didn't exist! He has no memories, just… animal impulses. I'm the only one who can help him!"

"Superboy's indestructible! Just ask those tanks!" Wally points back at the ambush site, "It's Aqualad who needs your help."

She doesn't move.

"Like now!" Wally adds sharply.

Miss Martian grabs at her head suddenly, eyes screwed shut in pain.

"No! Superboy's in pain! We can't wait," she yells. She shoots off into the air without another word.

"M'gann, wait!" Artemis yells.

"If Psimon mind-wiped us once, he can do it again!" I shout after her.

"Great! She's gone, and we have no way of getting Aqualad to the ship!" Artemis complains, throwing her hands in the air.

"How far is the ship, Rob?"

I pull out my holocomputer and locate the signal immediately.

"A mile and a half northwest."

"Okay. That's not so bad, right?" Artemis says, looking between us for reassurance. Wally meets her eyes and whatever passes between them, they both look calmer. I reach into my utility belt and pull out my collapsible bo-staff.

"Can you find a long stick?"

I dig through the pockets of my utility belt, praying that Batman's preparedness paranoia will have given me something I can use. The back-left pocket is stuffed with miscellaneous items that I never thought I'd have any use for. I pull out a pack of double A batteries, elastic loops that Batman refuses to admit are just really stretchy rubber bands, and a vacuum-packed cube of cloth. I break the seal and shake the cloth out to its full size so I can start tying it to the extended staff.

"How do you fit all that in there?" Artemis asks.

"You don't want to know."

Somehow, Wally manages to find a stick to use for the other side, and we have a makeshift stretcher. It takes all three of us to lift Aqualad onto it and we head out. Wally and Artemis start pulling the stretcher while I keep watch for Bialyan soldiers. We drag Aqualad through the desert, taking turns pulling the stretcher and keeping watch. We're a quarter mile from the bioship when there's trouble.

"There's a squad. What's the plan?" Kid Flash asks. I'm already gone, sprinting out from behind the dune to plant some explosive birdarangs and a voice recording in the sand behind the soldiers. They don't even glance at me before I'm back with Artemis and Kid Flash.

"Where were you?!"

"Breaking radio silence," I grin. There's an explosion behind us and the soldiers shout. The three of us sprint into action, taking down the remaining three before they have a chance to fight back. Once they're down, we don't waste any time in dragging the stretcher again.

"Just a little further!" I tell them.

Two minutes later, the bioship comes into view with a squad of soldiers surrounding it. Kid Flash and I look at each other and nod. Artemis pulls out her bow and notches an arrow.

"On my mark," I say, pulling out a birdarang and stepping out in the open, "Now!"

I throw it, and the projectile hits one of the soldier's hands and sends his gun flying. The other soldiers in the squad turn on me and start shooting. I flip backwards and stay out of the range of fire.

'Take him alive!' One of them shouts, and I glance down at the bullets littering the sand. My mouth goes dry when I see that they're not really bullets… they're tranquilizers. Two of the soldiers charge me. I throw a birdarang hard enough to lodge it in one of their chest plates. The birdarang releases a cloud of smoke and I rush forwards. Elbow strike, side kick, duck, punch, chest kick. They're down. Behind me, Kid Flash and Artemis finish off the other five and there's silence. The bioship is ours.

We drag Aqualad to the ship and the hatch doors open. All three of us let out a breath when the doors seal behind us and we're safe.

"Camouflage mode," I say and the ship beeps, shifting suddenly so we're hidden.

It's easy to get the ship to reconfigure into an infirmary and Artemis retrieves an IV bag while Kid Flash and I lift Aqualad onto the table. She hooks up the IV drip and it only takes a few minutes before the color returns to Aqualad's face.

The three of us let out another breath but it's still not time to relax. Not until Miss Martian and Superboy are safe.

"Do you have a position on Miss Martian?" Artemis asks. I pull up the Bioship's main screen and show the GPS readout.

"I can't pinpoint an exact location, but she and Superboy are in the same area."

"What do we do?"

I hesitate. Miss Martian is the best equipped to handle Psimon, and if the Bialyans are trying to capture us, running in blindly while we're all dehydrated and exhausted puts all of us in danger. But if Miss Martian needs help, the longer we wait, the more danger she's in. Kid Flash makes the decision for us.

"Give it fifteen minutes. If they don't report in, we give the League our position and go after them."

Artemis and I nod. Kid Flash rummages through the emergency supplies and returns with three bottles of water and a handful of MREs.

Ugh. Those things are disgusting.

My empty stomach spasms at the thought of food, reminding me just how hungry I am. So, I grab one of the packets and the three of us choke down the emergency rations. Actually, Artemis doesn't seem to mind the taste, and Kid Flash inhales four of them in the time it takes me to finish mine.

Gross, but they get the job done.

Aqualad lets out a groan suddenly and we run over. He tries to push himself up but his arms shake so badly he collapses. Artemis reaches him first and catches him just before his head slams into the table.

"Hey, easy, Kaldur. Easy. Take it slow."

Kaldur blinks slowly, struggling to focus on her face.

"Kiven enste? Doanda secaray?!" he asks, clearly panicked. Artemis and Kid Flash look at each other in alarm, but I've never been happier that Kaldur taught me some basic Atlantean.

"Shemla, Kaldur," I move into his line of sight, "Ensten asimitas."

"Asimitas?" Kaldur finally manages to focus on my face, and his eyes flash with recognition while he visibly relaxes, "Robin? Doanda… where are we?"

"We're on a mission. Kid Flash is here too, and so is our friend Artemis," I say slowly, "I know you don't remember but I'll explain later. Just relax. You're safe."

Warily, Kaldur nods. He lets us lay him back down and he closes his eyes. The three of us exhale in unison.

"You speak Atlantean?" Artemis asks, looking impressed. I shrug.

"Enough to get by."

We sit in silence after that, anxiously watching the clock time by and pretending we aren't. We promised we'd give Miss Martian five more minutes.

'I found Superboy and we're on our way!' Miss Martian's voice calls through the mind link cheerily.

"Thank god," Artemis breathes, and just like that, the tension is gone.

But then Aqualad bolts upright and panics, 'Who are you?! How did you get inside my head?'

'Hello Megan! I knew there was something I forgot! Don't worry, I'll be there soon.'

"She's a Martian," I tell Kaldur before he can panic any more, "And our friend."

'Oh man!' Kid Flash thinks suddenly. 'I forgot to get a souvenir.'

'Got that one covered,' Superboy thinks, but there's a lightness in his voice that sounds like he's laughing. That sound is more reassuring than anything else. If Superboy is in a good mood, then the rescue mission must have gone great.

That being said, the second they get back to the ship, we're gone.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Gotham Academy

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

"Good morning everyone," Mrs. McKendrick greets cheerfully. About half the class responds, some of them cheerfully, but most of them mumble something in a tone suitable for the first morning back from a break. My head throbs and I take a drink of water from the bottle on my desk. Babs casts a worried glance at me, but I'm just dehydrated. Really, dehydrated.

"I hope you all had a nice long weekend. Did anyone do something fun?"

Being Gotham Academy, a lot of people went away to their houses in the Hamptons or Martha's Vineyard. One girl just got back from an impromptu trip to Prague that she missed a week of school for. When Mrs. McKendrick gets around to me, she grins.

"You look nice and tan. I'm guessing there was a beach involved?"

I manage something halfway between a grin and a grimace and say, "Well, there was definitely a lot of sand," before taking another long drink of water. Mrs. McKendrick smiles.

"I'm glad you brought that up, Richard. How many of you were also at a beach this weekend?"

Most of the class raises their hands.

"Great. For the rest of you, I'm going to assume you've been to a beach before, so you all know what sand is like. Now, before we start our class today, I want you all to imagine that you're farmers in the 1930's, living down in Oklahoma. To grow crops, you need a couple of things. Anyone want to guess what those are?"

"Water."

"Sunlight."

"Seeds."

"Money."

"Tractors."

"Water."

"Mark already said that."

"No he didn't!"

"Yeah he did!"

"Alright class, let's get back on track. You're all right. These are all things you need. But… you're missing the most important thing that you need to grow things."

Babs raises her hand.

"Yes, Barbara?"

"Soil?"

"Right! You can't grow anything if there's nothing to grow in, and the nutrients in the soil are just as important as water or sunlight. Now let's go back to our Oklahoma farmers. Have any of you ever been to the Midwest? The soil out there is fluffy and rich and packed with nutrients, unlike the rocky dirt here in New England. Farmers in the Midwest had historically been incredibly successful, and the surplus they produced during World War I led to economic prosperity and the widespread adoption of new agricultural technologies."

Oh. I know where's she's going with this.

"After the war ended, farmers were left with huge amounts of surplus, but there were no armies to sell the crops to. The supply of food went way up for the general population, sending prices devastatingly low. Farmers lost enormous amounts of money and became crippled with debt. And then things got worse. All the years of over-farming drained the soil of nutrients and water, leaving already poor farmers with dust to try and grow crops in. Between a severe drought and wind erosion, the farmers ended up with what we now call the Dust Bowl."

She explains how there was a mass displacement of farmers out of Oklahoma and the Midwest and how huge farms ended up buying out most of the small family-owned farms, and what the government tried to do to help. I tune out by the time she starts describing what it was like to get caught in a dust storm because I've had more than enough dust, dirt and sand for a lifetime, thank you very much.

My phone buzzes as she starts handing out copies of 'The Grapes of Wrath' and I look down to see a text from Slade.

'I have a coding project for you. Hardison will be available from 10-2 to help.'

I grin. Hardison's coding projects are just training exercises, but they're a lot of fun. Plus, he doesn't really get how good I am at hacking, so it's even more fun to impress him. Forget Steinbeck, finally there's something interesting to do.

Babs kicks my ankle under the desk and raises an eyebrow. I shake my head at her, telling her not to worry about it. She rolls her eyes at me and throws my new copy of 'Grapes of Wrath' at me.

'Damn. I thought you were kidding when you said thirty minutes,' Hardison types.

'28:57.' I type back, fighting back a smile.

'Kid, when I was your age, if I could get onto the Olsen Twins' MySpace I felt like hot shit. That's a replica of the system the navy uses to secure top secret transmissions. And you found a loophole in thirty minutes.'

'MySpace? How old are you, Hardison?'

'That's right, you weren't even alive back then. I bet you're in school right now.'

'Yeah. Study hall.'

'Middle school?' Hardison jokes.

'Why does everyone think that?'

"Hey Dick!" I hear someone call down the hallway.

'Gotta go.'

'I'll send your boss an update. Good work, Gray.'

I turn to see a mop of blonde hair and a wide smile as Bette Kane sits down next to me.

"Hi Bette."

Bette Kane is a year older than I am, and she does gymnastics with Babs. We're friends, but she's much closer to Babs than she is to me. I think her aunt had some stint as a vigilante. Bruce won't tell me the details about "Batwoman," but that hasn't stopped me from wondering if Bette will turn up in costume one day.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks, gesturing to the empty hallway, "People normally go to the library during study hall."

I nod at the wifi router on the ceiling above us.

"I'm doing a coding project. The wifi's better here."

"Ooh! Are you hacking the school's system to give yourself A's? Or turning the air conditioning on remotely so the whole school isn't an oven?" she raises her eyebrows and grins like she's in on a big secret.

"Nope. Just finding backdoors into the CIA's mainframe."

"Of course! That's what I meant to say," Bette corrects, assuming that I'm playing along with her instead of realizing that I'm completely serious, "You should join the coding club. I think they made it to nationals or something last year."

I snort. Another club is literally the last thing I need right now. Besides, I think I'm a little beyond making programs that print "Hello World."

"I think I'm busy enough."

Bette frowns at me, "Are you okay, Dick?"

"Um… yeah? Why?"

"You look exhausted."

"Wow, thanks."

"How late do you stay up?" she presses.

If I don't have patrol or a mission or training and I've managed to get all my homework done? 1. If I do, 3, maybe 4.

"Not that late. I've been trying to get some more sleep, though," I lie blandly.

"Good. Look, Dick, you're only a freshman and you work way too hard."

"What, are you worried about me?" I tease, "I'm just a freshman right? Aren't you supposed to ignore me?"

"Oh, shut up."

"That's bullying."

She laughs, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, "I did actually have a question. Have you seen Babs anywhere?"

"Yup. She's in the cafeteria with Josh. They have biology in ten minutes."

"I knew you'd know! I've literally been running around the entire school. Our coach's birthday is coming up and we're throwing her a surprise party. If you see her, tell her she needs to sign the card."

"No problem."

"Thank you!" she stands up and dusts off her skirt, "See you later."

"See you."

Bette pauses, turning back to look at me, "Seriously, though. It's okay to take it easy once in a while. A little self-care goes a LOOOOOONG way."

I nod, lifting a hand to wave goodbye as she wanders off towards the cafeteria.

Take it easy.

I'd love to. Somehow, I don't think there's a lot of space for me to cut back.

Wayne Manor Library

Wednesday, September 12th, 2012

The heavy oak doors swing open and quiet footsteps make their way across the hardwood floor. The steps are almost silent, but from the way the old floorboards creak and shift, the walker is heavy. The sound is also accompanied by the smell of fresh baked cookies and warm chocolate.

"Hey Bruce," I call.

"Alfred baked cookies and told me I had to bring you some," Bruce holds out a plate, "He also said something about getting off the computer and interacting with a human being. Don't worry, that part was meant for me. I think."

I laugh and snag a cookie off the plate. The cookies are still warm, and they have a perfect doughy-chewiness ratio.

"Phank you!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," the corner of Bruce's lip twitches up. He grabs a cookie and sits on the couch next to me, "How's the… essay going?"

"Journal entry. And not great," I tell him with a frown.

"What's it about?"

"We're supposed to pretend to be Oklahoma farmers during the Dust Bowl."

"That seems at least mildly insensitive," Bruce shakes his head amusedly. I snort.

"Do you have anything written so far?"

"Uh… well, I was trying and I couldn't think of what to write, so I was trying to just get something down on paper and…" I scroll up to the top of the document and start reading, "Life has taken a turn for the worst. We expected the storms to last a week at most, but the dust just kept coming. Nobody has seen anything like it. Our farms have been devastated, and there is little hope for any crops to make it to the harvest. People have left the town in droves. The Kents left just yesterday, and if they can't stick it out, what chance do the rest of us have?"

Bruce snorts.

"Clark will be proud to have a cameo."

"I was more thinking Grandma and Grandpa Kent," I grin, then continue, "We're setting out at dawn. California is far, but already it's one of the only places that will take us."

"It sounds good so far," Bruce says.

"Yeah, well then, I got to the part about getting caught in a dust storm and wandering aimlessly, and well…" I clear my throat and read him the next part, "and then we were stuck dragging our friend ten miles through the sand because he has gills and he can't survive in the desert while the only person who can fly your spaceship home runs off to rescue your other friend who's being tortured by evil scientists. And that's why deserts are bad."

Bruce is quiet for a second, looking equal parts guilty and like he's trying very hard to fight back a laugh.

"Well, you're not exactly wrong," he says finally before glancing down at his watch, "You have to leave for training soon."

"Good call."

"Do you have the service group after?"

"Yup."

"Are you sure you don't want to skip tonight? It sounds like you still have a lot to do."

"No, it's fine. I can rephrase a couple things and use what I have, minus the whole, 'aliens, fish people and evil scientists' thing. Plus I have all the analysis done for the assigned chapters and I can throw that in the end," I look down at the time on my laptop. I really have to go. My phone buzzes and I frown, "Jake can't go tonight. He's coming down with something. Could I take a cycle when I get back from the Cave?"

Bruce blinks.

"Alfred or I could take you."

"I know, but it would be faster for me to just take myself! And it's only a fifteen-minute drive from here! Please?"

"Alright," Bruce looks confused, like he suspects some ulterior motive but isn't sure if it's something bad or if I just want to drive a custom motorcycle that I'm not technically legally allowed to drive but am completely licensed and trained on anyways, "But if you get pulled over, you don't touch it again until you're sixteen."

"Aye aye. See ya!" I run out of the library, making a bee-line for the kitchen. Alfred is slicing carrots and celery sticks for Cassie, who's sitting underneath the kitchen table with a coloring book, "Alfred, can I take some cookies for the Team?"

"By all means, Master Dick."

Alfred piles the cookies onto a plate and hands me a foil-wrapped package.

"You're the best!"

"Nonsense. Now get going, I won't have you be late on my account."

"I'm going. Bye Cassie!"

Cassie opens and closes her hand at me without looking up. It's hard to be less important than a piece of paper and crayons, but I think I manage okay. I head down to the Batcave through Bruce's study and do a quick-change to get my costume on. Then I make my way to the zeta-transport.

"Recognized: Robin, B-01."

In a flash of light, the Batcave disappears and Mount Justice's control room appears. In another flash, Kid Flash zooms to my side and slings his arm around my shoulders, trying to tug the cookies out of my hand.

"Is that what I think it is?"

I laugh, holding the cookies away from him and fending him off with my other hand.

"They should call you Kid Nose. And back off! They're for everyone!"

"Rob, come on! I'm part of everyone! Aaaaand I'm your best friend, so I get first dibs."

"At least let me get to the kitchen."

Kid Flash grins.

"Now you're speaking my language."

Before I can stop him, he picks me up and the world blurs for a second. Then we're standing in the kitchen.

"Speedster Express, at your service."

"You couldn't wait two minutes?"

"For Agent A's cookies? Nope!" Kid Flash grins. He drops me and pops a cookie into his mouth in the same motion, before putting the plate down on the table. I sit on the counter and grab one, savoring the chocolatey-gooey perfection.

"I love Miss Martian," Kid Flash mumbles through a mouthful of cookies, "But man, she does not know how to cook."

"Compared to Agent A, nobody can cook."

"My mom can. She makes the best pot roast ever," he responds, pouring himself a glass of milk while simultaneously stuffing another cookie into his already full mouth, "So? Anything interesting happen today?"

"Well, my English teacher asked if I'd been to the beach lately. Apparently, I got a nice tan in Bialya."

"Too soon," Kid Flash winces. I snort in agreement.

"At least I didn't get a mask tan."

"What do you do when that happens?"

"Stage makeup," I shrug.

Kid Flash holds up another cookie as a toast and scarfs it down.

"Also, unrelated, I learned that if you kill someone in international waters on an unregistered boat and then throw the body overboard, they can't trace it back to any one legal system so you can't be prosecuted for their murder."

"…how did you learn that?" he asks.

"Are you sure you want to know?" I grin, "Plausible deniability and all?"

"Fine, then. Don't tell me. See if I come to your defense when the judge is about to send you off to Lian Yu."

"Please," I scoff, "Lian Yu is basically a vacation destination. Green Arrow's sent so many people there that there's probably an entire tourist industry."

"Recognized: Artemis, B-07."

"Speaking of…"

"Anybody home?!" Artemis' voice echoes.

"Kitchen!" Kid Flash and I shout together. Artemis walks into the kitchen a few minutes later, throwing her bow and quiver onto one of the stools across from the counter. She reaches for a cookie and asks, "Did M'gann make these?"

"I brought them," I answer. Artemis freezes, frowning suspiciously.

"What did you do to them?"

"Try it."

"Hard pass."

"Arty, just eat the cookie."

"Don't call me that."

"Try it!"

"Fine," Artemis takes a bite. Her eyes go wide, "Oh my god."

"Right?" Kid Flash grins like a maniac on a sugar rush.

"Holy shit! You made these?"

"Nope. Compliments of Agent A."

"Batman's butler," Kid Flash whispers loudly.

"Batman has a butler?!"

"Recognized: Aqualad, B-03, Superboy, B-05, Miss Martian, B-06."

"Duh. He's a cave butler. They come standard," I tell her in the most matter-of-fact tone I can.

"Shut up."

"The Arrow Cave doesn't have a butler? Huh."

Aqualad walks in, Miss Martian and Superboy behind him. He takes one look at the counter and his face lights up. He grabs a cookie and takes a bite, eyes closing in delight.

"Please send Agent A my regards."

"You knew about Batman's butler?!" Artemis demands.

"Batman has a butler?" Superboy blinks.

"Of course. Butlers are standard features in most caves and large caverns," Aqualad tells her solemnly.

"Guaranteed he already knew about your regards and sends them back," I answer Aqualad. He grins.

"That sounds about correct," he turns to Superboy and Miss Martian, holding the plate out, "You should try these."

Apparently, Aqualad has more credibility than Kid Flash or I do, because they both take cookies without hesitation. Superboy bites into one and his eyes go wide. Miss Martian's feet lift off the floor.

"Wow! This is incredible!"

"Right?" I grin. Superboy still just looks stunned.

"How can a cookie taste like that?" he asks.

I shrug.

"There's some secrets not even I know."

"Ready for training?" Black Canary asks, tossing her jacket on a stool and cracking her knuckles. We all groan. Or at least, Kid Flash and I do, and Miss Martian looks hesitant. Superboy always looks like he'd rather punch a bridge down than train, even if he's enjoying it, so he doesn't count.

"What's going on with you guys?" Black Canary asks. I debate whether or not its worth grabbing another cookie. If I do, I might feel sick after an hour of intense conditioning, but if I don't, they'll be gone by the time I get back. Black Canary spots the plate of cookies and sniffs once.

"Agent A sent these?" she asks. I nod.

"Well, I guess we could go over recent mission evaluations…" she says, reaching for a cookie herself.

"This would be a good opportunity to bring everyone up to speed," Aqualad answers.

"You're finally going to bring us up to Speed-y on your mission with Roy?" Kid Flash jokes.

"He prefers to be called Red Arrow. And yes, I believe the information will be helpful."

"Great. Alright, guys, gather around," Black Canary waves us over to the couches. I sit in my usual spot next to Kid Flash with Miss Martian on my other side. Artemis takes the spot next to Miss M and Superboy sits on the arm of her chair. Aqualad sits in the chair across from her, next to Black Canary at the head of the circle.

"I'm sure you're all aware by now that the League has been involving you in more individual missions instead of full squad missions. Smaller projects that require specific numbers or skills. I know the rest of you have also been busy with your mentors, but when it comes down to it, the six of you are a team. The more you know about each other's activities, strengths and areas for improvement, the more cohesive of a unit you'll be."

"Nice pep talk," Artemis snorts, but she's grinning underneath it.

"Or, we can put the cookies away and go back to training. I've got some hard stuff planned for you guys this week."

"No, it's okay, I'll take the pep talk."

Canary grins, winking at her, "I thought you might. So… last two weeks. Who wants to start?"

"I can," Miss Martian offers, "Superboy and I went undercover as the Terror Twins to try and figure out why so many villains were pushing to end up in Belle Rev instead of juvenile centers, asylums, or lower security prisons. We were there during the attempted jailbreak, which we… well mainly Superboy managed to stop. Icicle Sr. was in charge of mobilizing the inmates but we don't think he was the mastermind behind everything."

"I spent a lot of time with Icicle Jr. He didn't know most of the specifics, but he knew his dad wasn't the one calling all the shots," Superboy says.

"I couldn't get as close to anyone as Superboy did, but I picked up on a lot of conversations," Miss Martian continues, "Tuppence and Tommy are near the bottom of the social ladder and Killer Frost cared more about that than Icicle Jr. did. I think that's why this breakout was so bizarre. The Terror Twins had a three-year sentence at a juvenile rehabilitation center for property destruction and disturbing the peace. They're not hardened criminals. But they were in on an 'ice villain' plan."

"It seems far-fetched to claim it as a mere coincidence," Aqualad offers. Kid Flash snorts.

"Well it's no secret that all the Central City rogues work together. Captain Cold is the boss, and even if he's not behind everything that happens, they all report back to him."

"Do you think there might be some kind of copycat thing going on?" I ask Black Canary.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Justice League has been around for a couple years now. It wouldn't be the dumbest idea in the world if the villains decided to make their own League."

"You mean like the League of Shadows?" Artemis deadpans.

"Bigger," Aqualad cuts in before I can say anything, "Although, according to Red Arrow's intel, they may well be a part of it."

"We have suspected that the Shadows might be expanding their reach," Black Canary says.

"Like Sportsmaster being on Santa Prisca during Kobra's takeover," Miss Martian offers.

"Or the Shadows attempting to assassinate Luthor during the Rhelasian peace talks," Aqualad adds, "Although, considering how lucrative his new weapons contracts are, I am unconvinced that he was truly in danger."

"That's got to count as some kind of insider trading, right?" Kid Flash points out, "Staging an assassination attempt to convince multiple governments they need to buy your merch?"

Black Canary sits up straighter suddenly.

"That is… a very good point, Wally."

Kid Flash winks, "Been known to happen. Ow!"

I feign innocence as he rubs at his arm where I just elbowed him.

"So basically we're sitting on a giant conspiracy," Artemis says.

"Right. The breakout was planned on every level, outside and inside. They had prison staff who helped them move supplies in, get into the offices and have everything in place. Even though there wasn't a mass escape, there's something wrong with Belle Rev. We shouldn't trust the way it's being run or that villains who get locked up are going to stay there," Superboy answers.

"We just don't know who's behind it," Miss Martian starts, "Superboy and I were talking about the missions we've been on and we can draw patterns for all of them. Cadmus was working on Project Blockbuster, which Robin and Kid Flash's analysis showed was a derivative of Bane's Venom. The Cult of the Kobra took over Bane's island, and the League of Shadows was after the Venom too. That's four separate groups who want the same thing. Even without counting the Ice villains and their 'friends' or the inside job at Belle Rev, I don't see how it could be a coincidence."

"But you're correct. We don't have any solid evidence about who could be behind something like that," Black Canary nods, "That being said, I think this is something the League will definitely want to discuss."

I look at Aqualad. He nods at me, before turning to Black Canary.

"I do not know if I speak for the others, but I would greatly appreciate a hard training session at this time."

The Haunt

"Again."

Chest heaving as I try to pull air into my lungs, I climb back onto my feet. I take three gasping breaths before curling my hands into fists and lowering myself into a fighting stance. I nod slightly and suddenly Slade is a blur of motion. I duck, sidestep and dodge Slade's fists, keeping my weight centered, my knees bent and my body low. Slade's fist glances off my shoulder, sending a shock-wave of pain down my side. I hiss but don't lose my focus. If the hit had landed, it would have dislocated the joint.

"Use your speed," Slade coaches, his attacks never faltering, "You're small and quick. Your opponent shouldn't land a hit."

He keeps moving forwards, pushing me back towards the wall the same way he's done six times already. I'm not going to make the same mistake again. Slade's leg raises in a sideways kick, but before his foot connects with my stomach I drop to the ground and dive through the space he left, putting his body between me and the wall. Slade turns, lowering his hands. He stares at me with his piercing, unblinking eye. His mouth twitches up into a partial grin and there's a gleam of pride in his eye.

Then, before I can feel too good about myself, he repeats the dreaded word.

"Again."

His voice is tinged with unspoken challenge. He knows I'm exhausted. He knows this is the twenty-third round. He wants to see what I'll do, how I'll react.

I don't know whether he says it to goad me or to relieve me, but he adds, "This is the last one."

I glance longingly at the water bottle on the ground at the edge of the mat. My arms protest the motion from sheer exhaustion, but I raise them anyways. With a grin, I say, "Bring it."

My motorcycle weaves smoothly through the streets and twists through alleys before I pull out onto the main road near Josh's apartment. If Bruce wonders why community service runs so late, he'll check CCTV feeds and think I went hang with Josh after. Wayne Manor is eight miles outside the South Village, so it takes me a little more than twenty minutes to get home. I pull the cycle around the back and sneak it through a small hole in the fence that goes around the back of the estate. I get to one of the back entrances to the garage and pull out my phone, accessing the security network. I type in my code to temporarily freezes the perimeter security and door alarms and unlock the door to the garage, and the automatic door raises with a quiet hum. I pull my bike into the garage and the security system resets behind me.

I park my motorcycle between a black Mercedes and a dark gray Aston-Martin. It's one of Bruce's favorites. It was designed for the newest James Bond movie, and there are only ten in existence. It's Cassie's favorite too. She loves playing driver in it. I move towards the hall, tucking my helmet in its cubby as I pass it. I hold my breath before I open the door into the Manor.

No sign of Alfred.

He hates when I stay out hours later than I said I would, especially on a school night. The coast is clear though. Yawning, I make my way towards the Great Hall, passing the ballroom. The double doors are wide open and I see lumps in the middle of the floor. Stephanie must have left her beanbag chairs in there again. I poke my head in and the lumps are a lot bigger than a beanbag chair. I move closer, trying to keep my sneakers from squeaking against the polished floor. When I get close enough to see, I press a hand over my mouth so my laugh doesn't wake them.

Steph, Tim and Cassie pulled together their beanbags, pillows, blankets and stuffed animals, forming a pile of cushions and sleeping kids. Cassie's thumb is in her mouth and Steph's arm is wrapped tightly around Timmy's shoulders. Checking to make sure that the flash and sound are off, I snap a quick picture. Alfred will kill me if I wake them up, but it's worth the risk. I yawn again and I almost decide to drop right next to them, but I still need to shower and change out of my workout clothes.

I rush out of the ballroom and up to my room, fingers crossed that I don't see Alfred. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he caught me, but he'll be annoyed at me tomorrow if he finds out I was out until one. I glance at the clock on the wall above my desk. It's one-twenty. It's Thursday morning. School starts in six and a half hours, and Bruce and I are definitely going on patrol tomorrow… no wait, tonight.

I groan.

This is going to be another long day. I pull my hoodie and cargo pants out of the towel and throw them into my laundry hamper, sticking an extra t-shirt on top for cover. I shower in record time, and throw back the covers of my bed. I collapse onto the soft mattress and I think I'm asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

LexSecure eRecords Password Accepted.

Waiting for Verification...

Password verified.

From: [email protected]

You've been quiet lately. I've heard rumors of an early retirement.

From: [email protected]

The rumors are exaggerated. Suffice it to say, a project of mine has become much more time-consuming. What do you need?

From: [email protected]

An accident. A competitor in Gotham has the potential to become a major problem if allowed to survive the week.

From: [email protected]

Gotham means dealing with the Bat. That much risk might not be worth the payout. Give me a reason.

From: [email protected]

200K

From: [email protected]

Don't insult me.

From: [email protected]

You've heard my offer.

From: [email protected]

Then I regret to inform you you'll have to find someone else willing to work in Gotham. I hear Deadshot only has another month left in Iron Heights. He'd love to hear from you again.

From: [email protected]

500

From: [email protected]

1M

From: [email protected]

700.

If you can resolve this issue for me, I may require your services again. There tend to be a number of issues in my line of work.

From: [email protected]

Paid in front. I've heard that you have a tendency to short-change contractors.

From: [email protected]

-Transfer Record-

Item #: 487918596

Amount: $700,000.00

To: [email protected]

Service: International

From: [email protected]

He doesn't survive to Thursday. Make it look like an accident. I hear he likes coffee.

Chapter Text

Maria Fording

Grind A Day Coffee Roasters, Downtown Gotham

Wednesday, September 19th, 2012

"Coffee for Simpson!" Maria shouted, "Medium dark roast, 2 shots espresso, no room."

She put the drink on the counter and turned back to the register.

"Zank you!" Simpson called, smiling at her as he picked up his drink and she spared a second to wave back. He was one of her favorite regulars since he tipped well and never got annoyed if there was a long line. Maria always liked to come up with stories about her customers, and she imagined Simpson could have been a Swiss banker, with his smooth accent, perfectly tidy hair and impeccable suit. Not to mention the silver money clip he carried in place of a wallet.

A woman with electric blue hair and a pair of green headphones around her neck stepped up to the register. Maria decided that she was an aspiring indie-pop singer who wanted to make it big with her next album.

"Hi, welcome to Grind a Day, what can I get you?"

"Give me a large cappuccino with almond milk."

"Sure. Anything else?"

"And I want one of those gluten-free blueberry scones."

"That'll be six forty-five. Cash or credit?"

"Credit."

The customer handed over her card when there was a loud crash and several people shouted in alarm. Maria looked up to see a crowd of people gathering around the door as the room erupted into chaos. She pushed the card back at the customer and hurried out to the front of the shop.

"Go get Britt!" she called to Kyle, who immediately disappeared into the back to go find their manager.

"He's having a seizure!" someone shouted as Maria pushed her way through to the front.

"Is there a doctor?!" another voice shouted. Simpson was on the ground, face turning bright red and swelling quickly. His hands clutched his throat and he writhed.

"Someone call 911! He's having an allergy attack!" she shouted. At her words, at least five people pulled out their phones and started dialing, "Does anyone have an EpiPen?"

"Here!" an older man with white hair pushed it at her. She knelt down next to Simpson, ripping the blue cap off the end and slamming the needle down into his upper thigh, holding it for the count of five. She waited for a sign that it had worked, that he could breathe and his throat had stopped swelling, but the thrashing just got worse.

"It's not working!" she yelled, starting to panic.

"911 is on the way," Britt announced, kneeling next to her. Maria had no idea how her manager could be so calm at a time like this, "Just a few minutes. Get him on his back."

With the help of Britt and some of the other customers, they rolled Simpson onto his back.

"It's okay, you're going to be fine," Maria told Simpson, her voice shaking.

"Is there another EpiPen?" Britt asked calmly. The people who'd been watching in frozen silence scrambled back into action, digging through their backs and coats and yelling at each other frantically.

"I'll check his bag!" Kyle announced before ripping open Simpson's briefcase in a last-ditch effort. Simpson's face was still swelling and his skin was the color of a tomato. Sweat dripped down his face and his eyes were wide. He clutched at his throat, wheezing and huffing and choking.

"Found it!" Kyle shouted triumphantly, practically throwing another EpiPen at her. Maria scrambled to catch it, but shoved it at Britt as soon as she had.

"You do it! I messed it up before!"

Britt took the injector and paused.

"What are you waiting for?!" Maria shrieked.

"It hasn't been five minutes! You're supposed to wait."

"But it didn't work! He can't breathe!"

Britt looked down and her face paled. She nodded and nobody said anything to stop her. Maria held her breath while Britt injected him again. After that, everything happened so fast, but somehow so slow at the same time.

Simpson gasped and his chest rose up and down in rapid, shallow motions, moving faster and faster but it clearly wasn't helping. Maria grabbed Britt's hand a squeezed it tight, feeling Britt's fingers clench around hers in response.

"Come on, please, please," Maria muttered, watching helplessly as Simpson kept choking, "Please, please be okay, please…"

"Any sign of the ambulance?!" Britt shouted.

Silence fell over the coffee shop like a shroud.

"No!"

"Oh my god," a woman muttered, burying her head in her husband's shoulder. The man across from her sank into a chair, hands digging into his hairline. Everyone else had their hands over their mouths, eyes wide with shock and horror. Kyle dropped to the ground next to them and placed both hands over Simpson's heart. He started doing quick, hard and even chest compressions while he counted to himself. Maria couldn't move. She felt tears drip down her cheeks.

"Oh god," Britt whispered, "Oh my god."

Dick Grayson

Stop & Stop Grocery Store

"Alright, so Alfred needs us to be back within an hour," Bruce tells us, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket, "There's not that much stuff on it, so if we stay focused then we should make it back in plenty of time."

Cassie shifts in his arm, pointing excitedly at the cart.

"Car! Gimme Car!"

"She wants to sit in the cart," Timmy tells Bruce, not looking up from his Nintendo DS.

"I think we can manage that," Bruce responds, pulling out a shopping cart from the row. He starts to set Cassie in the kiddie seat, but she starts squirming and kicking.

"No! Car!"

"She wants to sit in the cart," Timmy repeats, focused intensely on his videogame, "She doesn't like the kiddie seat."

"Of course she doesn't," Bruce sighs before setting her in the main body of the cart. Stephanie giggles when Cassie immediately lies down, taking up the majority of the storage space.

Bruce turns to me, "Does she always do this?"

I grin and nod, trying not to laugh at his confusion. Who'd have thought the great and powerful Batman couldn't handle a trip to Stop and Shop?

"Where exactly am I supposed to put the food?"

I shrug.

"She'll move stuff around to fit. Also, don't get eggs until the end. Actually, you should just hold anything breakable because she likes to smash stuff together. Don't let Jason hold anything because he'll use it as collateral to get cookies, Timmy will probably drop it and Steph refuses to hold anything that isn't fuzzy or purple. She likes eggplants though, so if we need any give them to her."

Bruce takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Anything else I need to know?"

"Jason is trying to climb the Coke display," I point behind us, fighting back a cackle when Bruce whirls around.

"Jason! Get down from there!" he sprints towards the display, leaving behind the cart, the shopping list and the rest of us.

Oh boy.

What was Alfred thinking, letting Bruce go grocery shopping, let alone taking all of us? This isn't even Alfred's usual grocery store. He goes to this fancy place near the country club that has an order ready for him to pick up as soon as he gets there. Bruce is out of his league here and that means it's up to me. I grab the back of Timmy's shirt before he can walk in front of a very full shopping cart. Then I reach for our shopping cart.

"Let me push it!" Steph cries, grabbing for the handlebar. I step out of the way to let her, but she's so short that she can barely see over it.

"Do you want some help with that?" I ask her, keeping one of my hands on Timmy's shoulder.

"No! I can do it!"

I wait patiently while she struggles to maneuver the cart towards the food aisles. It's not a fast process, but every time I try to help her, she tries to bite me. It doesn't help that Cassie is now standing at the front of the cart, bouncing up and down yelling, "Go! Go! Go!"

Slowly, we manage to make it to the Coke display. Bruce got Jason down without knocking the entire display over, but he didn't do it in time to stop an angry employee from storming over.

"Hey! Keep your kids off the display! If he knocks it down then you're going to have to buy-" The employee stops dead. His name tag reads, "Kenny."

"Oh my god… you're Bruce Wayne! No way! You…still can't let your kids climb… but I mean… you're… Wayne…"

Bruce sighs and the muscles of his jaw clench. He puts on his warmest, fakest smile.

"I'm so sorry about that. Jason won't do it again. Isn't that right, Jason?"

"Sure, whatever."

"It's no problem, Mr. Wayne! If you need anything let me know. It's an honor to have you in our store today. Uh… I'm… my name is Kenny, Kenny Peterson, and I'm the assistant junior manager, if you want to send an official commendation to the regional manager. Not that you have to! I just wa-"

"Absolutely. I'd be happy to," Bruce interrupts before Kenny can continue, "Thank you for your understanding, but I'm actually on a bit of a tight schedule."

"Thank you so much! I'll let you get back to your shopping! If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Bruce starts to walk towards the produce aisle, keeping Jason by his side. After a second, he realizes that the cart and the rest of us aren't following because Stephanie got one of the wheels caught in a stray plastic bag.

Bruce sighs, moving back over to the Coke display. He crouches down, staining the leg of his custom-tailored pantsuit on the soda encrusted linoleum floor. Jason takes the opportunity to wriggle out of Bruce's grip while he struggles to detach the cart. Cassie continues to jump up and down, making Bruce's task even more difficult.

Finally, Bruce manages to get the wheel and the shreds of plastic bag separated. He stands up, dusting off his hands and grabbing the handle.

"No!" Steph shouts, grabbing the bars, "I want to push it!"

"We've been here for five minutes and we haven't gotten past the entrance. We need to move quickly, and that means you can't push the cart right now."

Jason and I glance at each other, trying not to laugh. Bruce is a sucker for puppy eyes and there's nothing my little sister hates more than being told 'no.'

Sure enough, Stephanie's lower lip begins to tremble, her head tilts to the side, her eyes open wide.

"But Alfred always lets me push it!" she whimpers.

A tear makes it way down her face, and as it does, her adorableness increases. Bruce stares back at her with icy stoicism and irritation. It takes about two seconds for him to melt.

"Please? Daddy?"

Jason and I snicker. She's good at it, but Steph should really know better than to use the full power of her puppy face for something as trivial as pushing a shopping cart. I guess you can't really tell an eight-year-old what to do.

Bruce finally sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again.

"Alright, fine. You can push the cart."

Stephanie's face lights up and she throws her arms around him.

She lets go and grabs onto the cart, pushing it happily towards the produce aisle. Bruce stares after her for a second with a shell-shocked expression on his face. Then he shakes his head, puts a hand on Timmy's back to direct him, and follows Steph through the store.

"He threw someone off a building last night," I comment offhandedly to Jason. Of course, he made sure there was a pile of full garbage bags and an old mattress to cushion their fall so they wouldn't get hurt.

"Batman, mighty protector of Gotham, vanquished by a puppy-face. Don't let the rogues find out, or the city is doomed," Jason smirks. I snort, imagining the utter chaos that would erupt if any of the Rogues could see Bruce's soft side.

"Why were you on the display?" I ask, watching as Timmy almost walks into a stack of tomato-sauce jars.

"It looked fun."

Jason punches my arm and points to a tall display of high-end maple syrup near the oranges. The glass bottles are stacked intricately in a looping pattern that reaches chest-level.

"Wanna play Jenga?"

I roll my eyes.

"We're not playing Jenga. Jay, you should cut Bruce some slack. He's never gone grocery shopping with all of us before."

Jason shrugs.

"C'mon Goldie, he can handle it. He's Batman."

"Not even Alfred takes us all shopping."

"That's because Alf knows what he's doing."

"Are you saying Bruce doesn't know how to do the grocery shopping with kids?"

Jason pretends to look scandalized and protests, "I'm just wondering if he's ever done the grocery shopping at all."

"Okay first of all, you know for a fact he hasn't. And second, taking it easy on him is the best way to get him to buy you Pop-tarts."

"Nah, I already got that covered. I put pop-tarts on the list in Alfred's handwriting."

"That's not going to work. He knows Alf's handwriting too well."

"That's why you're going to read the list to him, and tell him it's real."

"You want me to lie to Bruce over something stupid. What's in it for me?"

"I'll share my pop-tarts."

"And?" I prompt, crossing my arms.

"I don't know, uh, I won't bother you and Roy at the next Wayne party?"

"Jay, Roy already likes you better than me. Plus, he always ditches now."

"How 'bout I cover for you the next time you sneak out," Jason offers.

The floor drops out from under me and my heart stops.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, when you say you're at 'community service' but you don't get back until two in the morning?"

"Jason, promise me that you will not tell Bruce or Alfred about that. You can't tell them!"

"I wasn't gonna," Jason scowls and crosses his arms over his chest, "I just figured you might want a cover story in case they catch you."

"Jay, I'll help you with the Pop-tarts, but you have to promise me you'll never tell them about me sneaking out. Please!"

He looks even more suspicious, but finally he makes a face at me and nods.

"Your secret's safe with me, Goldie."

"Don't call me that."

"What are you going to do about it, Goldie?" He sticks his tongue out.

I would shove him, but we've left Bruce alone for too long already and I decide to be the bigger guy. And also because Jay is eyeing the maple syrup display and I don't want to be a human bowling ball. We catch up as Cassie begins grabbing everything within arms' length and stuffing it in the cart around her.

"Stephanie, can you grab some oranges?" Bruce asks, putting a four-pound sack of beets back on the shelf and trying to stop Cassie from grabbing it back.

"I got it!" she grins, flouncing off to the fruit display.

"Make sure to get fresh ones," Bruce adds, playing tug-of-war with Cassie for his shirt sleeve. Jason and I follow Stephanie, watching as she pulls oranges off the pile and inspects each of them individually. She picks up a lumpy one, makes a face and puts it back. She starts digging deeper, pulling oranges from the edges of the pyramid, but the next eight aren't even close to good enough. She purses her lips and studies the stack of fruit carefully, eyes moving slowly over the display. It starts at the top and gets lower and lower and lower until… she finds the perfect one. Her eyes shine bright with victory. She reaches for an orange at the very bottom of the pile and pulls, holding up her prize triumphantly.

Then the entire display caves in, and oranges plummet off the table like barrels going over Niagara Falls and she lets out a yelp before she's buried under a cubic foot of fruit.

"Oh, for the love of…" Bruce sighs and runs over to rescue Stephanie. Kenny the assistant manager hurries over, apron and glasses askew.

"Don't worry about this, Mr. Wayne! It's not a problem! We'll have it cleaned up in a jiffy- AAAH!"

The "AAAH" is accompanied by Kenny slipping on an orange, tripping forwards, and crashing into the display of fancy maple-syrup. A four-foot wall of maple syrup comes crashing down against the linoleum floor, smashing into pieces and spraying sticky syrup in an arc through the air.

"Cleanup in aisle one," sounds over the loudspeaker after a few seconds of chaos. I look back at the cart in time to see Cassie drop down to the ground and pull on Timmy's hand. He follows her blindly into the next aisle, face buried in his DS.

Uh-oh.

I look around for Jason, but he's gone. Bruce, now covered in syrup and orange pulp, is apologizing profusely to Kenny and trying to pull Stephanie out of the pile without her getting cut on any glass.

I'm still holding the shopping list.

Broccoli, five crowns.

Moving through the chaos like that scene from Pirates of the Caribbean with the guy walking down the exploding staircase, I put a few heads of broccoli in the empty shopping cart.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" Stephanie announces as Bruce lifts her off the ground. He looks at her and sighs. Then he sees me crossing apples off the shopping list. And that's when he realizes the rest of his kids are AWOL.

"I can go by myself," Stephanie reminds Bruce. Bruce blinks at her and he gives his best 'There is no way in hell I am letting you do that' face.

He looks at me, at the shopping cart, and then back at Stephanie.

"Want me to call Alfred?" I offer, pulling out my phone.

"No!" he snaps, "We're fine. Just give me a second."

"I hafta pee!" Stephanie reminds him. Bruce sighs again, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He turns to me, trying and not really succeeding at hiding the desperation in his face.

"Please go find your siblings."

"I've got it," I assure him. He looks so relieved I don't have the heart to tell him it's probably too late. Bruce takes Stephanie to the bathroom, not looking back as custodians descend on the mess. I stick the grocery list into my pocket and head towards the aisle that runs through the center of the store, keeping my eyes and ears open. I pass by the snack food aisle and stop dead. Timmy is sitting on the ground in front of the corn chips, face buried in his DS. I turn the cart and make my way towards him, waiting to see if he notices me. He doesn't.

"Hey Timmy," I bend down, waving a hand at him.

"Hey," he doesn't look up. His face screws in concentration and he clicks the button rapidly. After a few seconds the screen brightens and he relaxes.

"Where's Cassie?" I ask.

"Hide-and-go-seek," he answers, mind still trapped in the game.

"Hide-and-go-seek?" I repeat, waiting for him to realize exactly what he just said.

"Yeah."

I wait. After a second, his head shoots up, a look of semi-horrified realization on his face.

"Oops," he says after a second.

"Yeah, oops," I tell him, holding out my hand for his DS. He closes it and hands it over guiltily.

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know!" he protests, "I wasn't looking."

"When did you start playing?"

"Uh… ten minutes ago?"

Ten minutes. A hyper five-year-old looking for somewhere to hide in a place with thousands of nooks and crannies to slip inside of and shelves to climb and we're absolutely never going to find her. Deep breath. It's fine. Stephanie is with Bruce, Tim and I are going to find Cassie. She'll probably be somewhere up high. She loves to climb stuff. Tim follows me out of the aisle and I turn around when we get to the refrigerator case full of butter. That's the best spot to see a tiny black-haired child standing at the very top of the cereal shelves, balancing on a tower of Cheerios boxes to try and reach the aisle 8 sign.

My stomach drops.

Everything happens in slow motion. The boxes of Cheerios under Cassie's feet tip over as she jumps to the sign. The problem isn't that she might fall and hurt herself. The problem is the avalanche of cereal boxes the fall in her wake, and the sudden mob of concerned shoppers that might notice a five-year-old hanging from a sign ten feet off the ground. Tim and I rush forwards, crunching through the wreckage of cardboard boxes and thousands of spilled Cheerios, leaving cereal dust behind us.

"Get down!" I call to Cassie when I'm standing below her.

"No!" she giggles.

"Cassie, please!"

"No! Be tall!"

"For me? Please!"

Cassie sighs dramatically, but lets go of the sign. The crowd of onlookers gasps and she plummets down. I catch her, but the angle is bad and we both hit the ground. Cheerio dust fills my nose and mouth and I cough, but it's hard to get the air back when Cassie is sitting right on my chest.

Then it gets worse.

Everyone has their phones pointed at us, and there's a man in a News 12 vest with a real camera. I close my eyes, let my head fall into the pile of cereal on the ground, and groan.

"Recognized: Robin, B-01."

The cave materializes around me and the first thing I hear is hysterical laughter filtering in from down the hallway. Wally's hysterical laughter. My stomach sinks, but I force myself to make my way to the living room. Sure enough, it's my worst nightmare. M'gann, Conner, Wally and Kaldur are sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn sitting untouched on the table in front of them, in preparation for the movie night that should have already started. But instead of a Quentin Tarantino movie, the news is on.

"...shopping trip got a little out of hand today for billionaire and father of five, Bruce Wayne."

"Robin!" Wally whirls around. Tears are coming out of his eyes in between bursts of laughter, "Oh my god!"

"Have you... seen the news recently?" Kaldur is laughing too, but he's being slightly more reserved about it. I shoot both him and Wally a glare, stomach sinking through the floor while I refuse to look at the screen.

"Celebrities, maybe they're not so much like us after all," the other anchor jokes. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, not dealing with this.

"Sorry, what did you say, M'gann?" I turn to my new favorite teammate in the world.

"I thought you couldn't make it tonight," M'gann says, valiantly ignoring the laughter behind her.

"I just came to drop off a book Canary lent me," I say, "Besides, Batman will kill me if…"

I trail off as the screen switches and Wally and Kaldur erupt in a new round of laughter. I finally summon the courage to look at the tv and see a very irate Bruce covered in maple syrup and bits of Cheerios, dragging Stephanie in one hand and Jason in the other. The newscaster looks like she's close to tears as she fights back giggles and her colleague breaks off into a 'coughing fit.' Wally falls off the couch laughing.

Nope, that's it. I'm leaving.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say hurriedly.

"Recognized: Robin, B-01."

I lean my forehead against the wall of the phone box and take a deep breath, trying to get control of myself. Oh my god. It was one bad trip to the grocery store. Why did it have to get on the news? I need to have a low profile, not have my face plastered all over the news! At least there wasn't any video of Cassie jumping off the sign. I groan and thump my head against the wall again.

An alarm on my phone goes off and I jump. It's almost 7!

I run out of the phone booth and around the corner to where my motorcycle is waiting. I can't be late.

But I do have time to put on a pair of sunglasses and a hat and make sure my hair looks as messy as possible. You can't be too careful.

The Haunt

"Why are we stopping?" I ask, watching blankly as Slade grabs his towel and moves towards the door, "I thought we still had another hour?"

Slade nods.

"There's something else we have to do tonight. I promise it will be easier than this."

He turns right and disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone in the training room. I look around at the mats and equipment before shrugging and grabbing my water bottle and towel. I follow him into the office, watching in confusion as he starts clearing everything off the table in the center of the room. He moves the stacks onto his desk, piling the papers precariously high. There are dozens of photographs of the exteriors and interiors of various buildings, and about thirty pictures of security cameras and motion sensor locations. Slade stuffs them all into an envelope and tosses it on his desk.

"Sit," he nods at the folding chair that normally functions as my desk chair. I hang my towel over the back of the chair and sit, taking a gulp of water while Slade does… whatever it is he needs the whole table for. He rolls a stack of blueprints into a tube and shoves the tube into one of the drawers. Then he turns to the newly-cleared table and shakes his head.

"I'll be right back. Don't move," he orders, storming out of the room.

I crinkle my nose at his words. Where am I possibly going to go?

To spite him, I get up and walk over to his desk to look at the precarious stack of papers. The top one is an account sheet, covered in numbers. I look closer, scanning through the financial statement the way Bruce taught me to during one of his endless board meetings where people just talk at him for six hours. It's a statement for an offshore account. A very large amount of money was transferred into Slade's account from an unknown party. The transaction is labelled with today's date. I shrink back, pressing my hands over my mouth so I don't let any sound out. Most of the jobs Slade accepts pay immediately upon completion. Whatever this contract is, it happened today.

Slade killed someone today.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, steel boots against cement. Slade is right outside the door. I scramble back to my seat, trying to look bored and not absolutely terrified or out of breath. The door swings open and Slade enters with a large black case in his hand. The door closes with a loud snap. I flinch. Slade's head swivels towards me and I look away, staring at the dust accumulating on the ground around the table's legs.

Slade lets out a low chuckle and moves around to the other side of the desk. Paper rustles and then he's moving towards me. I cross my arms over across my stomach and look at the door.

"I'm going to assume by your suspicious silence that you saw this?" Slade thrusts the paper at me and I clench my hand nervously, keeping my head turned the other way, "Richard, answer me."

I let out a long breath and mutter, "Yeah."

"So despite me explicitly telling you not to move, you decided you'd investigate my affairs anyway?"

I swallow, but Slade is waiting for an answer.

"Yeah."

"Knowing that you would regret seeing whatever you found?"

The hair on the back of my neck rise and my hands are getting clammy. I squeeze them tighter, looking at how pale and bloodless my knuckles look instead of looking at Slade's expression. Judging by the cold, smooth tone of his voice, I'm screwed.

"Since you're so curious, would you like to hear the details?"

My eyes narrow and a pulse of adrenaline floods through my body. I glare up at Slade.

"I don't need to hear them. Someone paid you a lot of money, you pulled a trigger, and now there's one less person on the planet."

Slade snorts and sits on the edge of the table, setting the case down on the ground with a soft thump.

"You know, ordinarily you'd be right. But not for this one. It had to look like an accident."

"What, did you hit them with your car?!"

"Less violent."

"I don't want to play twenty questions to figure out how you murdered someone!" I snap.

"Then you should have listened to me the first time," Slade replies smoothly. I lean back, glaring at the floor. He's not going to back down, so I just have to get through it as fast as I can.

"Poison?"

"Very close."

"I don't know."

"Think."

I bite my lower lip to stop myself from retorting.

What do I know? The murder looked like an accident. Slade didn't shoot the target, hit them with a car or do anything that violent. Poison is close, but not right. How can you kill someone by kind-of poisoning them and make it look totally accidental?

"Where were they?"

"Leaving a coffee shop."

"Where were they going?"

"Based off their morning commute, the target was heading to work."

"How?"

Slade raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, how were they getting there? Like in a car, or a bus?"

"Taxi."

"Were you the taxi driver? Did you put something on the door handle or the seat? Like a weird poisonous vapor that you're immune to?"

"No. I told you, it wasn't poison."

"But you were the taxi driver, right?"

"No."

"Did you hire the taxi driver?"

"No. It was just a regular, completely ordinary taxi," Slade states dryly, "You're going to have to think a little harder."

His mouth quirks up to the side for a fraction of a second, the same way that Batman's does. He's is laughing at me. I grind my teeth together and try again.

"Whatever you did, did you do it before the target got coffee or after?"

"Before."

"Did you do something to the coffee?" I guess, shrugging my shoulders.

"In a matter of speaking."

"But not poison."

"No."

"Was it something they were allergic to?" I ask, but even before Slade nods I know it's the right guess, "You put something they were allergic to into the coffeepot so that they would have an allergic reaction! And… you stole their EpiPen so they couldn't get epinephrine while they were in the taxi."

"Replaced both of them with an inert substituted, but otherwise correct."

"But what if someone else had the same allergy? You could have killed a bunch of people!"

"It is a possibility, but fortunately, the allergy is very rare in America."

"What allergy?"

"Celery."

"What?"

"Celery. It's a very common allergy in parts of Europe, particularly in Switzerland, the target's home country."

"You killed someone with celery?!"

"Celery causes an incredibly severe reaction. Adding a small concentration of celery water to the coffeepot was more than sufficient to cause the reaction."

"But you killed them with celery."

"Yes."

My eyes drift down, absently scanning across the wall behind Slade. My brain is spinning. Slade murdered someone and he made it look like a total accident. People have allergic reactions all the time. Most of the time they have an EpiPen or they get to the hospital in time, but sometimes they don't. And even if someone suspects foul play, all they'll find is celery. Celery! There's nowhere for an investigation to go from there. Slade is going to get away clean.

A hand squeezes my shoulder and I jump.

"It will be a very long time before I teach you how to use vegetables for evil," Slade says, "So for now, let's get back to business."

My stomach squeezes so tightly I can't breathe. He picks up the case and lays it on the table. It's a thick black briefcase, with silver clasps.

"Open it," Slade orders.

I slide off the chair and walk over to it, stomach churning nervously. I take a deep breath and undo the clasps, lifting the lid. There's a piece of orange and black fabric on top. I pick it up and it unfurls into a uniform. I inhale sharply and almost lose my grip on it.

"I'm not sure how it will fit, but I can get it resized. You'll have to try it on."

I shake my head, mouth opening and closing. No sound comes out. Slade pulls the uniform out of my hands and lays it flat on the table. It's mainly black, with a section of orange from the chest to the belt. Unlike my Robin uniform, which is a synthetic fabric as strong as Kevlar, there's armor built into it. When I put it on, it'll be like wearing a hockey chest-guard.

"How am I supposed to move in that?" My voice comes out hoarse.

"We can adjust it later to suit your fighting style better," Slade says in a tone that suggests I need to adjust my fighting style to fit the suit.

I bite my lip and look down.

"What are those?" I point to the case, where there's an odd assortment of equipment.

"This is your new arsenal. You won't have a utility belt, so it will take some getting used to. There are a dozen pockets on the arms and legs, and you will have holsters for additional weapons. Those will come later, though."

I pick up an S-shaped projectile and risk an eyebrow-raise, trying to be funny in an attempt at pretending that any of this is fine.

"I know you like your theme, but this is a little much."

"What do you call your custom-made projectiles, Robin? The bird-shaped ones?" Slade asks, "Oh, right. Birdarangs. I think we'll call it even on theme."

My cheeks burn and I set the projectile to the side.

A pair of canisters comes out of the case next. They're almost identical; both small, but one has a ring on the end.

"Grenades. I admit, they're a bit old fashioned, but they come in very handy on occasion. This design is impossible to trigger accidentally, and you will use the utmost caution at all times," he holds up the other one, which has the ring, "This is just a smoke bomb. It will produce a much denser smoke than the pellets you use now. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but do not inhale the smoke."

"Why? Is it poisonous?"

"Not in small doses. But you will pass out."

Next, Slade hands me a metal cylinder, finger aimed at a small indent near the center.

"Press there," he instructs. With a click and a hiss, it expands into a metal bo staff. I twirl it over my palm to test the balance and it slashes through the air without any resistance.

"It's so light," I heft it up and down, and it barely takes any effort.

"It's an experimental alloy designed for military use. It's supremely light and incredibly strong. If you'd prefer, the staff can be configured to extend blades from either end."

"Uh…" I press the catch again and the staff collapses back to its previous size. I place it on the table next to the projectiles, "I'll pass for now."

Slade shrugs and tosses me the next item in the case. A pair of sturdy black gloves, almost exactly the same as the ones on my Robin uniform except…

"Where's the computer?"

"The what?"

"The holocomputer? You know, the thing I use to pull up mission schematics, building plans, GPS locations, communicate with the League, look up information in an emergency, or hack into security systems?"

"You won't need one."

"But what if I need to hack something?"

"Then that will be a mission-specific tool that you will receive prior to said mission. Otherwise, you will be staying off the grid, or you will hack the computer systems manually."

Is he serious?!

I open my mouth, but he shoots me a warning and my mouth shuts itself. Stupid no-computer gloves. Slade pulls something new out of the case. It looks like a long strip with other strips and sections of fabric attached, with clips attached at random. He hands it to me and my mouth goes dry. It's a drop leg holster.

"You'll be equipped with two holsters, along with additional compartments for knives and other blades. The bo staff is stored at the back of the holster belt. You'll need to try it all on to make sure it fits."

"Now? Like, right now?"

Slade nods, pushing everything towards me. My hands ball into fists and my pulse races, but I reach forwards and grab the uniform off the table. He doesn't say anything as I head for the door, so I cross the hall to my room and close the door behind me. The uniform is a little loose, but it's closer than I thought I would be. The sleeves are a little too long, and the extra material bunches around the waist. But the chest pad is actually not that constricting, and the extra armor makes me feel a little more secure. The padding along the arms will make hand-to-hand combat a lot less painful.

I'm not ready to look at the mirror yet, so I take a breath.

"It's not that bad," I say out loud to convince myself. It doesn't work.

I open the door to go back to the office, but Slade is waiting outside with a pair of black combat boots and the holsters. Ignoring the holsters, I pull the boots on and lace them up slowly. They fit perfectly… and they also look really cool. Not that I'm ever going to tell Slade that. But then I'm done putting the boots on and the holster is sitting on the ground and Slade is still waiting.

I tug on the gloves, pretending to readjust them. There's a loud sigh.

"Just put it on or I will put it on for you," Slade threatens impatiently.

Nope! No way! That is not happening!

I clip the belt around my waist and start adjusting straps, not letting myself think about what I'm doing until I tighten the second holster around my right thigh. There's full length mirror on the wall next to the bathroom door. I turn towards it slowly. The orange pops against the black, and my heart misses a beat when I see Deathstroke in the mirror.

But it's just me.

Slade's hand grabs my shoulder while his other hand presses something over my eyes. I let out a yell but he lets go immediately, and then I realize he just put a mask on my face. I inhale through my nose, trying to find the courage to open my eyes. When I do, I can't tear them away. The person in the mirror looks evil, just like all of the villains and assassins I've spent my life fighting against. If the Team saw me now, they'd shoot first and ask questions later.

Slade puts his hand on my shoulder again, but this time, his grip is gentle but firm.

"Renegade."

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Harris Auto Repair, somewhere in Gotham

Friday, September 21st, 2012

When I pull to a stop, I've made up my mind. I need answers. Everything I'm doing is to be a better hero, to be a better fighter so I can keep my teammates and the people we're trying to protect safe. That's why I'm doing this. But it's really hard to remember that when all I can think about is the fact that Slade just killed someone and walked away clean.

I knew Slade was a mercenary from the beginning, but that's not… there's a difference between cold-blooded murder and eliminating someone who's an active danger to society. Slade said he only takes contracts that are justified, like violent gang leaders and terrorist cells or illegal militia groups. Batman targets those same criminals, but he'll never cross that line and neither will I. It makes me sick to think about it and I feel dirty keeping what I know secret when every night, Batman and I track down people like Slade and bring them to justice. I'm not stupid though. I can't tell anyone and I won't. Slade has risked so much for me and I owe him too much.

I know I can't fit Batman's beliefs into what he does but I just… I need to know why he took the last contract.

I climb off my bike and lean it against the wall. The garage is empty except for Mark hammering dents out of the frame of a beat-up Dodge Charger. He looks up when I walk by, waving his hammer once in greeting. I nod back before taking a deep breath and walking through the open door of Slade's office and closing it behind me.

For the first time, Slade isn't waiting in there for me.

I look around, but the room is empty, and the giant desktop computer is powered down. The files strewn over the desk are all closed, and there's no messages waiting for me on a piece of paper. My heart pounds from the relief of delaying the confrontation, but it's mixing with even more anxiety when it hits me that I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. I unlock the supply closet door to reveal the hidden staircase.

Carefully, I lock the door behind me and make my way down the stairs, pausing to punch in the security code to unlock the real door to the base. Once I get inside, I stop. The hallways always look exactly the same and I can never remember which doors actually lead to the main hall and which ones are just decoys that lead you back in a circle or don't even open at all. It takes an embarrassingly long time to get to Slade's real office, and when I do, it's like walking into the middle of a war zone.

Papers and stacks of files are everywhere and quickly thrown-up blueprints line the walls. Slade is in full uniform minus the mask and arsenal, pulling equipment from cabinets and drawers and dropping it unceremoniously into a set of black duffel bags on his desk.

"Good. You're here. We need to go."

"What?"

Go where? What's he talking about?

"One of my government contacts intercepted a message from the National Intelligence Department of Pokolistan to a splinter cell in New York. They want to get their hands on a sonic mesh prototype the National Science Foundation has been developing in collaboration with HEMI."

"HEMI? What is that?"

"It's a research institute located on the Johns Hopkins campus in Baltimore," he answers impatiently, digging a long-range scope out of the bag to make room for a large black-box. The scope disappears into the other bag, "HEMI loaned a research team to the NSF facility in Scarsdale, where they've been developing the prototype. My contact suspects that the Pokolistanis will try to steal the device tonight."

Slade practically throws a binder at me from across the room. I bring my hand up in time to catch it, caught off-guard by the sudden urgency. I flip through it, looking at page after page of building schematics and pictures of the NSF facility from the outside and the interior. Halfway through, the plans become profiles on the researchers involved with the project, complete with pictures and detailed bios.

"Our job is to make sure they don't get their hands on it, and to protect any of the scientists who may get in the way."

"Why would you they hire you to do that?" I ask, "Why not just have the cops on high alert?"

"Officially, the United States and Pokolistan are allies. Unofficially, as a former Soviet state, Pokolistan's interests align much more closely with that of Russia and its allies. If this group is caught and brought to media attention, the Pokolistani government will deny any ties, but it will push them farther towards our nation's enemies. If we capture the enemy agents, my clients will quietly deliver them back to their motherland and the matter can be dealt with between agencies. And restitutions can be made in the form of sanctions that will not destroy the remaining goodwill between our two countries."

"Oh."

"There are teams on stand-by waiting to respond, but they don't have the firepower necessary to respond to a full strike force. My contact received confirmation three minutes ago that they're moving on the facility tonight. Our presence might not be necessary, but in the worst-case scenario, we'll be acting alone until reinforcements arrive."

It's not the highest-stakes I've ever dealt with, but it sounds pretty serious.

"I've been analyzing the lab members' routines. At the end of every work day, the prototype is stored in a lockbox in the facility's basement storage center, and only the project leaders know the serial number. Anyone trying to steal the device will either need to target one of the five project managers, or go after the device before it is returned to storage. Unfortunately for the NSF, there is a large window for both options."

Slade takes the file from me and opens it to a new page.

"Dr. Palmer is the chief engineer on loan from HEMI. He has an extreme work ethic and usually remains in the lab long after his colleagues have gone home. There is a period from 9 to 11pm where the good doctor is alone, and he's a perfect unsuspecting target. The good news is that if the prototype can be discretely returned to storage and the project managers are out of reach, the Pokolistanis will lose their window."

"And the bad news?"

Slade looms over me, putting his hands on my shoulders, "There are no acceptable losses tonight. The Pokolistanis cannot be allowed to take the device. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to keep the scientists safe."

I take a half-step back, nodding once I have room to breathe.

"You'll find your uniform and gear on your bed. Get changed. We leave in five."

It takes just under an hour to get from Gotham to Scarsdale, New York. The radio plays audio from a series of bugs Slade's contact managed to plant, and the entire ride is narrated by poor-quality Pokolistani chatter. It sounds a lot like a mix of Bulgarian accents speaking Russian and I can't follow a word of it. Instead, I flip through the binder, trying to figure out the building's layout and our best evacuation routes.

The ride passes in a blur, and I try to think about how similar this is to the team's mission to protect Dr. Rockette from the League of Shadows. Except that the League might already have Dr. Rockette and we have to stall for time until backup gets there. And instead of the Team, it's Slade. And I'm not Robin. I'm Renegade. I don't like the name that much, but Slade didn't ask my opinion and I can't think of anything better.

My hands are shaking and I take a deep breath, trying to distract myself again but nothing works for long. This is a real mission with Slade. Lives are on the line if I mess up.

We're only two minutes out from the facility when the bugged audio gets quiet and it turns into one guy giving short, regular updates. I think. Slade glowers and presses harder on the gas.

"They're inside. Beginning sweeps of the first-floor laboratories, but they've confirmed Palmer is in the building. Front and back exits have been compromised."

"What do we do?"

"There's no time for niceties. We go in through entry point five, get Palmer and the device to the basement, then we deal with the targets. If they intercept us, your job is to keep them busy. We cannot risk anything happening to the device-"

"Or the scientists," I interrupt. Slade glares at me and my stomach drops, "Sorry."

"So, I will keep them both out of harm's way. Whatever you have to do, do not let the targets get past you. Understood, Renegade?"

My heart misses a beat.

Renegade. Not Robin. That's never going to stop being weird.

"Understood."

The second the car pulls to a stop at the edge of the parking lot, Slade grabs his gear out of the trunk, pulls his mask down over his face and disappears into the darkness.

My heart pounds and I take a deep breath, holding it for six counts. We're here to keep people safe and prevent an international incident. I can do this. Bo staff in the back holster, projectiles loaded into pockets, mask over face.

There's a ring of black vans parked in a semi-circle around the loading zone, and an assortment of other cars around the lot that are definitely out of place. If they don't already know we're here, they'll be onto us soon. Lucky for me, I'm pretty good with shadows.

"Dr. Palmer," Slade says.

The scientist jumps a foot in the air and whips around, staring at us with an expression that's half shock and half terror.

"Who the hell are you?!" he shouts. I wince. Slade went in fully armed and I wouldn't want to be snuck up on by a guy with a massive gun either.

"I'm very sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, but you need to do as I say," Slade says, "Your life is in danger."

"I can see that!" Dr. Palmer snaps, face turning bright red, "What do you want?"

"Dr. Palmer, I was hired by an interested party in the United States' Army to ensure that both the anti-surveillance device and the technicians working on it stayed safe. I'm sorry to have alarmed you, but you will be in far greater danger if you don't evacuate right now."

"Bullshit," Dr. Palmer snaps, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Then you will make it very easy for the squad of NIDP agents that just infiltrated the building to steal government property and abduct you in the process."

"What? NIDP like… like Pokolistan?"

"Correct. Dr. Palmer, we need to get moving."

"There's other people in the building," Dr. Palmer doesn't budge, "Cleaning staff are on the third floor by now, and the night shift is in the main office."

"We'll evacuate anyone we come across, but this device is their priority. We need to go, now."

Everything happens at once. I see a flicker of red light over Slade's chest. He shouts, "Get down!" and I launch myself behind a counter. Slade grabs Dr. Palmer and pulls him down, covering him as gunfire erupts over our heads.

Glass explodes and chunks of plaster get ripped from the wall and the workshop is suddenly a warzone.

There's shouting, and suddenly a team of heavily armed agents dressed head to toe in black tactical gear storm the room. Five just came in through the main door, there's another five by the side door and at least three outside the windows judging by the spray of gunfire and pattern of broken glass. My new bo staff is in my hands before I can think about it.

I look back at Slade, who has one arm keeping Dr. Palmer down and the other reaching for a smoke grenade. He nods at me.

Alright then. Guess I get to deal with all of the enemy agents by myself. Fun.

Slade throws the smoke grenade and I spring out from behind the table amid a cloud of gas. I flip in midair, pressing the latch to extend my bo staff to full length and the ends crackle with electricity.

Flashlight beams shine through the cloud of smoke but it's too dense to see more than a few inches and none of the agents see me until my feet slam onto the shoulders of the guy at the front of their five-point formation. He goes down hard, helmet slamming against the ground and I hear shouts of alarm from the other four.

One slash with my bo staff hits right where the helmet meets the chest armor, electrified end meeting collarbone. He shouts as electricity shoots through him before dropping to the ground. Another strike hits the guy across from him with the other end.

Two beams of light find my chest but I'm already in the air again, and their bullets rip through the space where I was a second ago. I hear grunts of pain as projectiles hit bulletproof armor with twenty-five thousand pounds per square inch of force. The hit knocks them back and I take advantage while they're off guard.

My bo staff slashes up, knocking the helmet off the guy on my right and I follow with an elbow strike that knocks him down. My leg whips around in a spinning kick to nail the other guy in the head.

Eight seconds. All five are down, and they're not getting back up. That's better than in Bialya.

The cloud of smoke is just starting to dissipate but it feels like it's sticking in my throat. I fight back the urge to cough, because if I give away my position there's another eight heavily armed NIDP agents in the room. I have about five seconds to get across the room before they know where I am, but they might open fire any second.

I reach for a birdarang but my hand comes up empty.

Shit. No utility belt. No cape either. If they start shooting, I'm wide open.

And now I'm just standing here losing time.

I need another distraction before I can risk moving. There are metal cabinets on either side of the doorway that stand about six feet tall. I slam my staff against the metal surface as hard as I can and take two hard steps in the other direction.

The metal crashes into the cabinet and makes a sound like a bomb going off, and the Pokolistanis answer with gunfire. I vault up to the top of the cabinets on the other side and the sound of my feet landing is covered by the still-ringing metal and spray of gunfire. Plus, the smoke is still thick up here and it should be enough to cover me. I sprint across the room on top of the cabinets, out of view of the agents. Through the ringing in my ears, I can hear shouting, both from the Pokolistani agents and Dr. Palmer.

I flip down, kicking one of the agents in the head and as soon as I land, I sprint between two more. I extend my bo staff again and the electricity hits both of them at once.

Gunfire explodes in my ears and pressure slams against my chest and my right bicep burns. I stumble backwards, years of Bat-paranoia pulling me behind a workbench for cover before I realize what happened. I look down and see a silver piece embedded in my chest plate and there's a long scratch along my right arm. Two bullets. I have to be more careful.

I grab a projectile from my pocket and when the agent follows me around the bench, I throw it. The metal lodges itself in his right hand and he grunts, dropping the barrel of his gun. I swing through with my bo staff, knocking the weapon clean out of his hands.

I dodge a punch to the face and answer with a kick at his chest. My foot makes contact but he squares his stance and his body armor absorbs the blow. He grabs my leg in a tight lock and throws me, ripping the staff out of my hands. I pull my legs in and roll backwards when I land.

He charges forwards, slashing the staff across my body. I dive under it, landing behind him and as he turns, I throw one leg between his feet and grab him in a lock with one arm around his neck and the other looping under his right armpit. I use his momentum to throw him, slamming him down against the floor. Dropping to one knee, I grab four of the pressure points on his face and neck and push until he goes limp and the heaving breaths turn to a steady, unconscious rhythm.

Behind me, Slade brushes off his hands. The last agent is out cold and Dr. Palmer pushes the guy's head with his foot to get a better look at his face. He doesn't look like a civilian who was just attacked by a squad of foreign intelligence agents. He looks like someone who's used to being in the line of fire.

I frown.

There was nothing Slade's file about him being ex-military, so either he's in shock or there's something weird about him because he is way too calm right now.

"They're alive," Slade's voice is all business, "There's three more outside the window, and at least another two teams attempting to secure the building. Expect four more teams at the most, not counting surveillance around the building."

He pulls a pack of zipties out of some pouch or pocket and throws half of them to me.

"Secure them all. We want them alive and in one piece. Palmer, don't move."

Dr. Palmer doesn't look happy about it, but he grabs the case by the handles and scans the room for any more threats. Together, it only takes me and Slade a few minutes to take care of all the agents.

"We need to draw the rest of them out. Make them think they still have a shot at the device that justifies sending the full team in."

"Or we can call for help. As a government building, there's a direct line to the Justice League in the main office. While you're drawing them out, I'll go," Dr. Palmer says. His voice sounds strained; not that I blame him, but something still just feels wrong about this.

"Absolutely not. You're not leaving my sight, Dr. Palmer. If anything happens to you, I lose out on a very large paycheck and I will not be pleased if that happens. Besides, the entire building is in a dead-zone. No electronic signals can get in or out," he takes stock of the room and looks back at Dr. Palmer, "How many people are on this floor right now?"

He shakes his head, "Berger and Tisch are the only other labs on the floor, and they're all out by seven. Other than that, the cleaning crews start on the top floor and work down. They won't get to this floor until eleven-thirty at the earliest. Anyone else is in the main office on the ground floor," he looks at Slade evenly, "Are they still alive?"

"The hostiles came in through the loading dock in the back and came straight up. As long as we give them a target, everyone else is low priority. We'll go down the-"

Dr. Palmer's head snaps up, "Aakshi! She's a post-doc in Ron's group! She's been staying late across the hall."

"Renegade," Slade orders, and I'm sprinting out the door. The hallway is wide open, but it's clear of any NIDP agents. I run down the hall, turning left at the branch to Dr. Berger's lab just like the blueprints said. The main corridor lights are on but all the doors are closed and dark except for room 416. The lock has been forced open already and I push my way inside.

A tall Indian woman with dark blue glasses and a long ponytail looks up. The worktop in front of her is littered with metal scraps and welding gear, but there's nothing in front of her and she's not wearing any of the protective gear scattered around the lab.

"Who are you?" she demands. She sounds angry, not scared or surprised but she doesn't move from behind the lab bench.

"Aakshi, Dr. Palmer sent me to find you. There are foreign agents trying to kill you. I'm here to get you out."

Her eyes widen at Dr. Palmer's name, but she still makes no effort to move.

"This is private property. You are trespassing," her voice is full of irritation, but her eyes point down beneath the bench. I tilt my head and point at the floor in front of her. She holds up two fingers before she gestures to her other side and taps the bench lightly, "Get out."

I knew it. There're two hostiles in the room; one beneath the bench and the other one somewhere to my right. Drawing fire is the best bet to keep her safe right now.

I stride into the room, getting close enough that I'll be able to jump over the lab bench in two steps, "I'm not leaving unless you come with me."

Aakshi's eyes widen and I hear one set of footsteps.

"Then you won't be leaving," a man says in heavily accented English. I don't need to turn around to know that he's got a gun pointed at me. There's still no sign of his partner and I need to know where he is before I risk anything.

"You're helping them?!" I demand, glaring at her and pretending to ignore the guy behind me.

"No!" she exclaims in shock.

"Quiet! You, how many did you come with?" the agent growls.

No good. I have to try again.

"Palmer wouldn't let us evac without you, and you're working with them?! We were clear to go and…"

"I'm not!" she shouts back.

"He said quiet!" the other agent unfolds himself from his hiding spot, brandishing his gun. Aakshi squeaks, stepping back. I slam my elbow backwards, using my full momentum to nail the first agent with an elbow strike to the throat. A roundhouse kick to the temple drops him to the floor. I vault over the bench, bo staff extended and drive the electrified end into the other agent. He twitches as he goes down.

"Holy shit!" Aakshi stares at me.

"Let's go."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Thank god," Dr. Palmer says, grabbing Aakshi by the arm to pull her next to him, "Are you okay?"

"Ray, what the hell is going on here?!"

"Any trouble?" Slade asks me.

"Two. There's a lot more of them, but I don't know how many or where. This hallway is clear though."

"No! What's going on?!" Aakshi demands, but she keeps her voice low, "Who are they?"

She points at me and Slade. Dr. Palmer opens his mouth to answer but changes his mind and shuts it without saying anything. Slade steps forward and I can tell he's impressed when Aakshi holds her ground.

"We're independent contractors hired by the US government. There are foreign agents attempting to steal Dr. Palmer's prototype and abduct any project members that may be useful. My job is to make sure that doesn't happen."

Aakshi whips around to stare at Dr. Palmer, "What the hell are you working on? Your project is short-range soundwave depletion."

"For counter-intelligence," Dr. Palmer admits.

"So, we're trapped in the building with these two versus however many people trying to kill the rest of us because the government has you playing secret agent?!"

"Dr. Girish," Slade interrupts, "I am very good at my job. You are going to make it out of this in one piece."

"And what about everyone else in the building?" she shoots back, "These men are armed and trigger happy. How are you going to keep everyone safe?"

"By dealing with the threat as efficiently as possible."

"How? Do you know how many of them are in the building? Where they are?"

"It would be really helpful if I had a computer right now," I hiss, shooting a glare at Slade. If I had my holocomputer, I'd already have access to the building's security feeds. Even if the internet is being blocked, the building's intranet works independently of outgoing signals; all I need is a computer connected to the building's system.

"By all means," Slade pushes me towards the computer on the ground behind Dr. Palmer's workspace. It must have fallen in the chaos, but only the monitor is cracked. After a few seconds, I've put it back together and managed to access the building intranet through an old cable sticking out of the wall. Most places don't even have them anymore, so that's really lucky.

"You're not going to be able to get anything off that!" Dr. Palmer tries to protest, "Any sensitive material is password protected and encrypted. Only the terminals in the main office can access security systems."

I ignore him and keep typing, winding around backdoors and pushing through firewalls that any of Batman's programs would have open in seconds.

"I've got eyes on them," I tell Slade two minutes later, before pointing up at the 360 degree security camera mounted on the ceiling, "Us too."

"How did you do that?" Dr. Palmer demands.

"Put us on a loop," Slade orders. It's a pretty new system, so most of the updated video controls are enabled and it only takes a few commands before anyone watching our security feed will only see us standing around the computer.

Slade directs me through various video feeds, and to both of the scientists' relief, the custodial staff is on the sixth floor and are working undisturbed. But there's another team of agents standing guard in front of the main office, with the workers all locked inside.

More teams comb the lower hallways, and all the exit points are covered too.

"We have a clear shot down to the basement. Hallways and elevators are wide open," I report.

"It's a trap. They'll ambush us when we move the device."

"What do we do?"

"We take the device down to storage and let them ambush us."

"What?!" I turn.

"They're expecting us to go down, so the device will remain upstairs. We'll load the container with a decoy. Palmer, do any of the cabinets in here lock?"

Dr. Palmer nods, "All the flammables cabinets and chem hoods lock. They're mostly empty, we just have IPA to clean the RF-melter and compressed butane refills for the torches."

I blink at the jargon but Dr. Girish is already pulling huge brown jugs out from the cupboard and moving them to a tall yellow cabinet on the other side of the room. I stand guard while they move all the bottles of flammable chemicals and replace it with the prototype before filling the empty lock-box with scrap metal. It's heavy enough that if we lose the box, the Pokolistanis won't realize it's fake until they open it.

As soon as Dr. Palmer clicks the lock into place, Slade nods.

"Now we go down."

It's a short elevator ride to the basement, but it's the longest minute of my life. I spend the whole-time watching Slade, looking for some clue that he's got a plan besides "spring the trap."

When the doors open, Slade is out first.

"Clear," he says. Palmer and Girish are out next, pushing the cart with the decoy between them. Slade holds up a fist and I hit the elevator stop button, causing the doors to freeze halfway closed. Anyone else who comes downstairs will have to come through the staircase and that gives us some control over access points. Worst case, we can retreat to the elevator and strategically run away.

The scientists lead us to the entrance to the storage block, and the door should be protected by an eight-digit passcode with thumbprint recognition. Instead, the locks are disengaged and the door is already open. Slade goes in first, but it's still quiet.

Next, they wheel the cart through and I take a deep breath before following them inside.

When I open my eyes, I'm in lying on a bed in a small, dark room. My head hurts like it's been stabbed by a hundred small knives and it takes me a painful thirty seconds to realize that I'm in my room in the Haunt.

Then my memory catches up.

The scientists!

I bolt up, knocking my pillow and sheets to the ground as I scramble off the bed, scrambling for the light switch. I turn the lights on and wince when the sudden brightness sends a spike of pain through my head. Looking down, I realize I'm in a pair of shorts and a gray t-shirt that I left here a couple weeks ago. Nothing's bleeding or broken, but my body hurts like I took on fifteen guys at once and my head feels like someone dropped the Batmobile on it.

A quick search of the room reveals there's no note from Slade anywhere, no instructions of any kind. I have to find him if I want any answers.

I throw open the door and stop dead.

The hallway is dark.

I swallow, heart beating even faster. The lights in the hallway are always on.

Always.

The office door isn't locked, but it's empty and the lights are off. It looks neater than it did, but there's still blueprints on the walls and folders on the desks that means it really happened. I head back to the hallway and try the kitchen, the dining room, and the gym, but it's all empty.

I'm not panicking.

I'm not.

I might be about to start panicking when I see a light reflected off the gym's mirrored wall. Turning around, I follow the light out of the gym, through a door to another hallway, and around a corner. There's a crack in the wall with light coming out of it. When I get closer, I realize it's a hidden door disguised to look like part of the wall.

Taking a deep breath, I push it open. My stomach drops and I feel nauseous.

It's an armory. It looks like an advertisement for a gun shop in the South. Every wall and shelf is piled with weapons, and there are cabinets off to the far side of the room I don't even want to think about.

Slade is sitting at a table against the wall with a pile of disassembled guns in front of him. He looks up when I come in, setting down the metal casing in his hands.

"Good, you're awake," he says, sounding relieved.

"What happened?"

"Not here," he stands up, nodding his head at the door. I follow him back to the kitchen where he pushes a bottle of water at me, "You need to rehydrate."

"What happened?" I repeat, playing with the cap.

"What do you remember?"

I frown.

"We got off the elevator with the scientists and the decoy and we were about to go inside the storage facility. Then I woke up. What happened? Is everyone okay?"

Slade sighs, sitting down heavily in the chair across from me.

"There was one casualty."

"What? Who?!"

"Dr. Palmer was… dragged out by the agents."

My mouth drops open in horror, "He's dead?"

"No, he's okay. I caught up to them in time, but…" He sighs again, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Richard. I was too far away to reach them. Shooting the agent was the only way to save Palmer's life, and the ambulance didn't get there in time."

I lean back, stomach churning with relief and sadness. Protecting the civilians is the most important thing. The agent was trying to kill an innocent man. Slade was doing his job.

"I'm sorry. I wish there had been another way, but Palmer would been killed if I hadn't."

"But… he's safe?"

Slade nods solemnly, "Palmer and Girish are both fine, if a little shaken. Everyone else in the building was unharmed. You kept her safe while I went after Palmer, and by the time I got back you'd taken a blow to the head. She says you saved her life."

I let out a shaky breath, letting my head rest against the table.

"Otherwise, the mission was a success. The Pokolistani agents were taken into custody by the CIA, and suitable arrangements were made for the deceased agent. Dr. Palmer and his group are also being relocated to another facility with better security."

I stare at the wall, trying to sort through it all but my head hurts so badly I can barely think. The important thing is that the scientists are safe and we helped stop an international incident. We won this fight.

But I just feel sick.

"You need to sleep. You might be concussed, and straining yourself right now is the last thing you need."

Sleep. Okay. I can do that.

Chapter Text

Ray Palmer

deBroglie Institute for Dynamic Engineering, Scarsdale, New York

Friday, September 21st, 2012

"Working late again? Thought you had a hot date tonight."

"Turns out, Jean's a little crazy even for me, Carol," Ray laughed. He glanced up from the prototype sonic mesh to check his computer screen. Even without seeing the Ferris Industries logo on the wall, Carol's messy workspace would have told him that he wasn't the only one pulling a late night at the lab.

"And here I thought crazy was your type, All-Night-and-Day Ray."

"Really? You just had to bring that up? College was a looooong time ago."

His friend laughed and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"What about you? Thought you and Hal were hitting the town," Ray asked.

Carol rolled her eyes, "Hal said something about a giant space cockroach and then blasted off into the galaxy unknown. Between the two of us, I'd so much rather be in the machine shop."

Ray held up his soldering iron in solidarity.

"Here's to late nights."

"Here's to sending the interns and techs home so they don't call the union about overtime," she grinned back.

"How's that ultralight paneling coming?" Ray asked, positioning the magnifying glass to get a better angle to solder a particularly tricky joint.

"We gave up on the carbon-aluminum weave. It gave me the mass I wanted, but there was just too much drag. I can't waste twenty percent of my pilots' fuel just to maintain speed."

"Just when you think you solved one problem, there's always a dozen more," Ray agreed.

"One sec, this is going to be loud," Carol said, and Ray turned the volume down out of habit. He could still hear the earsplitting screech of heavy machinery crushing a piece of metal. After a few seconds, Carol waved at him and he turned the volume back up.

"All done," she sat back at her desk, hefting a newly compressed chunk of metal, "That's the part I hate about my job. We've been working on this weave for three years and now we just have to scrap it and start over. Ugh! We'll look for other places to use it, but I really thought it was going to work."

"At least you're the one who gets to call it. When I worked in industry, I spent eighteen months working on a tachyon particle emitter. My boss calls me up one day, says the board is moving in a new direction and the project is cancelled. Gone, just like that," Ray snapped his fingers.

"That's the problem with R&D. You gotta have the funding for it and getting funding is just.." Carol winced. Ray nodded sympathetically.

"Grant season coming up?"

"When is it not? My top team is working on a batch of proposals, but there's a few I'm overseeing myself. I possibly shouldn't tell you this, but we have a project in the works for a new fuel-injection system for the VF-616 engine. Complete redesign that, fingers crossed, could give us a ridiculous increase in terms of fuel efficiency."

"That's great! I remember when you were talking about the problems with the current version. I take it you're the one writing the grant?"

"I haven't finished the proposal yet. We've still got a few weeks, but I'm pretty confident we'll get the funding. I spoke to Senator Donovan at a conference in Tulsa last month and he was actually so enthusiastic about the project. He's been pushing more funding towards research grants since his appointment to the Appropriations Committee."

"Nice to see the government spending on something besides defense."

"Says the guy working on a top-secret project for the government as we speak."

Ray laughed, "I don't have the clearance to be working on anything like that anymore. We just got lucky when the NSF reached out."

"Sure," Carol winked, "And none of my test pilots are reporting to some higher-up that would have to kill me if I ever heard their name."

"Seriously?"

"Of course not. This isn't the Cold Wa-"

The video cut out for a second, but returned a second later.

"Sorry, I lost you for a second there. The wifi's been spotty all day," Ray apologized.

"Don't worry. It wasn't anything important," Carol grinned. Her stomach let out a growl loud enough for Ray to hear, "God, I would kill for some takeout right now."

"Is anything even open this late?"

"Closest thing would take an hour to get here. Ugh, I would pay all the money in the world for some sweet-and-sour chicken right this second."

Ray's stomach let out a rumble in response.

"You're going to make me hungry," he joked.

"Kung pao chicken."

"Carol!"

"Fried rice with vegetables."

"You're the worst."

"Egg rolls with dipping sauce."

"Beef lo mein," Ray gave in.

"Mu shu pork."

"That's not Kosher," Ray shook his head.

"Wonton soup?"

"Now you're talking."

"Are you working tomorrow night? You should pop over, I'll take you to this awesome hole-in-the-wall in Oakland."

"Do you know how much a plane ticket from Scarsdale to Oakland is?"

"So, save yourself the ticket. Or if you'd prefer, I can have Hal fly you."

"I'll see how much I can get done tonight. Not all of us can be the CEO of an aircraft company who's dating a test pilot."

"You're really committed to that cover, aren't you? Hal doesn't care anywhere near as much who knows."

"Well, as much as I respect Hal, I'm not dating my boss. There's no guarantee of job security if I get a little too talkative about my side job."

Carol snorted.

"Like they'd ever fire you. You could do this project by yourself in your basement if-"

The image stalled, but this time the screen turned gray and informed him the connectivity had been lost.

"Stupid wifi router," Ray mumbled.

Setting down his solder and flux, he pulled out his phone.

"Sorry I lost you. I'll text tomorrow about dinner if it'll work."

He hit send, but the message timed out. He tried switching to cellular data, but his phone still didn't have any signal. Ray groaned, but set it aside. He'd call tech support tomorrow if the wifi still wasn't working but there was no point dealing with it tonight. He picked up the soldering iron again and kept working on the mid-section of the paneling. Attaching the mesh to the base was the easiest part of the project, but also the most time-consuming. It didn't require a lot of attention to detail and after about fifteen minutes of working in silence, Ray gave up.

The thought of beef lo mein with egg rolls was driving him crazy and listening to the air conditioning unit wasn't particularly interesting. Time to call it a night.

Ray set down his tools and pulled the storage case from under the work table. He carefully shoved the prototype into its box, making sure that there wasn't too much pressure on any of the newly-soldered joints. The sections of the base that hadn't been attached yet went into a separate compartment, and then everything was sealed. Following NSF protocol, he slid a combination lock through the latch and turned the dial to reset it.

It usually took a lot of maneuvering to get the case loaded onto the cart so it could be brought into the basement for storage but Ray was in the habit of cheating. It was a job for a bigger guy, which was lucky because the Atom could be a bigger guy.

"Dr. Palmer," a man said from directly behind him.

Ray jumped, whipping around while thanking G-d that he hadn't just blown his secret identity in front of the intruder. His heart pounded wildly at the sight of a man wearing black-and-orange armor… and the very large gun in his hands. There was a similarly dressed man standing behind him, but he was unarmed and so much smaller that Ray's instincts dismissed him to focus on the much bigger threat.

"Who the hell are you?!" Ray shouted.

"I'm very sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, but you need to do as I say," the armed intruder said, "Your life is in danger."

"I can see that!" Ray snapped, hands tightening into fists. He took a second to notice that the man's gun was carefully aimed at the ground, fingers far from the trigger. That didn't make him a whole lot better, but it did give him a little more time to size up the situation, "What do you want?"

"Dr. Palmer, I was hired by an interested party in the United States' Army to ensure that both the anti-surveillance device and the technicians working on it stayed safe. I'm sorry to have alarmed you, but you will be in far greater danger if you don't evacuate right now."

Two possibilities from that. Either the man was lying and this was a very strange kidnapping slash theft, or the man was telling the truth and the situation was about to get a whole lot messier. Either way…

"Bullshit. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Then you will make it very easy for the squad of NIDP agents that just infiltrated the building to steal government property and abduct you in the process."

"What? NIDP like… like Pokolistan?" Ray frowned, mostly because it was scarily probable. He was still convinced this was a trap, but the NIDP was one of the obscure foreign intelligence agencies that had led his military contracts to insist on complete secrecy from everyone involved in the project. It didn't necessarily mean anything other than the fact that the intruder had done his homework, but if it was true, then this was a job for the Atom.

"Correct. Dr. Palmer, we need to get moving before they find you."

"There's other people in the building. Cleaning staff are on the third floor by now, and the night shift is in the main office."

"We'll evacuate anyone we come across, but this device is their priority. We need to go, now."

Ray shook his head. He'd been in the business long enough to figure out that the man in front of him was extremely dangerous and there was no way he was going to follow him blindly and undefended into a hostile situation. Before he could insist that they evacuate the rest of the building so he could slip away and transform, all hell broke loose.

"Get down!" the larger man shouted, grabbing Ray by the shoulders and ramming him into the ground behind the workbench. The sound of shattering glass exploded around them, accompanied by a spray of gunfire. Ray couldn't see around the bench but he heard the shouts and heavy footsteps as a full team of hostiles burst into the lab. By the pattern of gunfire, Ray counted at least three snipers outside the windows. His self-appointed "protector" had him pinned between the wall and the bench with his body shielding Ray from any of the new intruders, and Ray sourly conceded the fact that it was very good defensive positioning.

There was no sign of the smaller man, but before Ray could wonder what happened, there was a hiss as the room filled with dense smoke. A string of curses, shouts, electrified buzzing, and wet thumps emerged from the darkness for a few seconds, along with more gunfire.

"Don't move," the man standing over him ordered, before unfolding himself out of a crouch to look around the side of the bench. Ray saw his chance to slip out of the room and transform but he'd barely taken three steps before there was a deafening crash from the far side of the room. He stumbled mid-step before he was dragged backwards. He spun with the motion, bringing up his fist to punch his attacker, but it was just the Black-and-Orange man pulling him back behind the bench.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he hissed, shoving him down so he was fully out of the line of fire, "Stay put!"

There was more gunfire and the man swore, disappearing again. Ray touched his stomach, fingers closing over the size manipulation belt at his waist. He could shrink down right now and get himself clear, but there was no way to do it without blowing his cover. The man was paying too much attention, he'd put two and two together if Ray just vanished. Especially if the Atom appeared on-scene immediately afterwards.

Long before he'd accepted this contract, Ray had resolved to make sure the government never got their hands on his shrinking tech. If the man had really been hired to protect him, he'd report to one of Ray's military contacts and it wouldn't be long before they'd be insisting on a "collaboration." Even though it made his skin crawl to stay crouched behind the bench while other people fought the threat, it wasn't worth the risk.

There was a final loud thump, then silence punctuated by heavy breathing. Ray stood up slowly, moving to where the man was standing over an unconscious agent dressed from head to toe in black. Using his foot, he pushed the agent's head to the side to get a better look at his face.

It matched most of the profiles he'd seen of Pokolistani features, and he admitted that it was looking more likely that the intruder had been telling the truth.

Ray looked up to see the shorter man frowning at him. He stood in the middle of a pile of bodies, and Ray counted nine men, all at least twice his size, lying unconscious while he was barely winded. Ray couldn't hide his surprise, realizing that he'd miscalculated badly. The man would have been a short eighteen-year-old, if he was even that old, but he was just as dangerous as his partner. Ray moved him up several places in his danger estimation while the taller man said, "They're alive. There's three more outside the window, and at least another two teams attempting to secure the building. Expect four more teams at the most, not counting surveillance around the building. Secure them all. We want them alive and in one piece."

The man didn't even turn to look before ordering, "Palmer! Don't move."

Rather than argue, Ray turned to grab the handles of the storage case. The mesh was still sitting innocuously on the bench, untouched by the disaster of a lab around them. Ray flinched at the thought of replacing the equipment but that was quite literally the last of his worries. He was done playing around, and if he couldn't punch someone soon then he was going to lose whatever calm he'd managed to hang on to.

Four teams of five to eight was too many for two people to handle alone, no matter how dangerous either of them were. There were too many lives at risk if one of those heavily armed teams decided to take the civilians in the building hostage. They needed backup, whether from the Atom or from the Justice League, and they needed it fast.

"We need to draw the rest of them out. Make them think they still have a shot at the device that justifies sending the full team in."

"Or we can call for help," Ray countered, "As a government building, there's a direct line to the Justice League in the main office. While you're drawing them out, I'll go."

"Absolutely not. You're not leaving my sight, Dr. Palmer. If anything happens to you, I lose out on a very large paycheck and I will not be pleased if that happens. Besides, the entire building is in a dead-zone. No electronic signals can get in or out," the man glanced at the door before looking back at Ray, "How many people are on this floor right now?"

"Nobody. Berger and Tisch are the only other labs on the floor and they're all out by seven. Other than that, the cleaning crews start on the top floor and work down. They won't get to this floor until eleven-thirty at the earliest. Anyone else is in the main office on the ground floor."

The man nodded, but before he could answer, Ray demanded, "The other people in the building, are they still alive?"

"The hostiles came in through the loading dock in the back and came straight up. As long as we give them a target, everyone else is low priority."

Ray breathed out in relief as his chest unclenched.

"We'll go down the-"

The thought hit him like a freight train.

"Aakshi! She's a post-doc in Ron's group! She's been staying late across the hall."

"Renegade," the man said, and his partner sprinted for the door before he finished saying the word. Ray tried to follow, but the man caught him by the shoulder with an iron grip.

"Let me go!"

"No. If she's there, Renegade will get her out safely. You are their primary target and I will not allow you to commit suicide in the name of heroics."

He spat the last word and Ray shivered, stepping back so the man would let go.

"Who are you?" Ray finally asked.

"The name's Wilson," he answered gruffly.

"Really?" Ray blinked, looking at the man's bright orange and black mask and the uniform that was almost a costume. He'd been expecting another codename, not a real name. If that even was his name at all.

"This isn't my usual gig. I'm here because I owed Agent Waters a favor."

"Waters sent you?"

"Your prototype is one piece of a pet project of his, one that could tear his career apart if it gets compromised. There's a reason he sent me."

Ray chose not to read too deeply into any of that, instead making a note the he needed to have an unpleasant conversation with Waters the next time he saw him. He turned around, returning to the storage case. He unlocked it and flipped open the latches, matching a big show of checking the device for damages.

With his other hand, he reached for the emergency Justice League communicator attached to the belt hidden under his shirt. He pushed the emergency beacon, but nothing happened. The red light didn't go off and there was no indication that the signal had gone out at all.

Shit. The building was under a signal lockdown. It wouldn't have mattered if Ray had a real League comm, but this was the low-tech version they gave to reserve members and affiliates. The League wouldn't get the distress signal as long as it was within the dead zone.

Although… the comm had a GPS unit. If the NIDP got their hands on his prototype, it would be easier for the League to find it if they already knew where it was.

Using his left hand, Ray broke one of the support wires off the top layer of the mesh and wrapped it around the comm so that it was holding the emergency button down. He tucked it inside the body of the device and pressed the metal back together behind it before straightening.

"Any damage?" Wilson asked.

"Not too bad. I'll need to repair the breaks along the seams, but it's mostly cosmetic."

Wilson nodded as the door opened again and Aakshi ran inside, followed by his partner.

"Thank god," Ray said, grabbing Aakshi in a hug, "Are you okay?"

"Ray, what the hell is going on here?!"

"Active hostiles in the building. It's going to be okay, I promise," he answered.

"No! What's going on?!" Aakshi snapped in the voice that reminded him exactly why she was the one who Ron sent to bully the lab safety manager whenever he started poking his head around, "Who are they?"

She pointed at the mercenaries, who were discussing the logistics of splitting up verses staying with the device. Ray opened his mouth to answer but decided that any answer he gave would just infuriate her. Wilson answered for him.

"We're independent contractors hired by the US government. There are foreign agents attempting to steal Dr. Palmer's prototype and abduct any project members that may be useful. My job is to make sure that doesn't happen."

Aakshi whipped around to glare at Ray, "What the hell are you working on? Your project is short-range soundwave depletion."

"Yes… for, ahem, counter-intelligence," Ray coughed. He knew Aakshi had no particular love for the US military, or really any military in general.

"So, we're trapped in the building with these two versus however many people trying to kill the rest of us because the government has you playing secret agent?!"

"Dr. Girish," Wilson interrupted, "I am very good at my job. You are going to make it out of this in one piece."

"And what about everyone else in the building?" she shot back, "These men are armed and trigger happy. How are you going to keep everyone safe?"

"By dealing with the threat as efficiently as possible."

"How? Do you know how many of them are in the building? Where they are?"

Renegade whispered something to Wilson before grabbing Ray's upturned desktop computer.

"You're not going to be able to get anything off that. Any sensitive material is password protected and encrypted. Only the terminals in the main office can access security systems!" Ray tried to stop him, but his protests went ignored, and it didn't take long before the teen straightened.

"I've got eyes on them. Us too."

"How did you do that?" Ray demanded.

"Put us on a loop," Wilson ordered. Ray and Aakshi exchanged glances as the two began discussing the video feeds, shooting ideas back and forth in coded two- or three-word phrases.

"Clear on BSL. H1-5, E1-3 wide open."

"It's a trap. Check BSL-rear."

"No coverage."

Ray couldn't follow it, not when all the screens looked the same. But he tuned back in just in time to hear, "We take the device down to storage and let them ambush us."

"What?!"

"They're expecting us to go down, so the device will remain upstairs. We'll load the container with a decoy. Palmer, do any of the cabinets in here lock?"

Stunned, Ray nodded and scrambled to think of the best hiding place, "All the flammables cabinets and chem hoods lock. They're mostly empty, we just have IPA to clean the RF-melter and compressed butane refills for the torches."

Aakshi caught on immediately and began clearing space. Ray helped her, moving the flammable chemicals to the alternate storage cabinet. Normally, he wouldn't have worried about leaving them out for a night, but with his recent horrible luck, it wasn't worth the risk.

Once they carried the prototype from the storage box to the empty hood and locked the doors, Wilson nodded.

"Now we go down."

Dick Grayson

It's a short elevator ride to the basement, but it's the longest minute of my life. I spend the whole-time watching Slade, looking for some clue that he's got a plan besides "spring the trap."

When the doors open, Slade is out first.

"Clear," he says. Palmer and Girish are out next, pushing the cart with the decoy between them. Slade holds up a fist and I hit the elevator stop button, causing the doors to freeze halfway closed. Anyone else who comes downstairs will have to come through the staircase and that gives us some control over access points. Worst case, we can retreat to the elevator and strategically run away.

The scientists lead us to the entrance to the storage block, and the door should be protected by an eight-digit passcode with thumbprint recognition. Instead, the locks are disengaged and the door is already open. Slade goes in first, but it's still quiet.

They wheel the cart through next, and I take a deep breath before following inside. Goosebumps run down my arms when I follow Dr. Girish into the room and it turns into an echo chamber. Our footsteps bounce off the concrete, giving our position away to the twenty-something agents who are waiting to ambush us.

"Stay with them. Secure the device and meet at the back stairs," Slade orders. We nod and he disappears into the rows of storage lockers, making us look like an easier target while getting into a better position to hit back.

"Come on," Dr. Palmer nods his head. He and Dr. Girish push the cart down one of the long corridors lined with storage lockers. The fluorescent lights cast an artificial glow over the room, leaving long shadows. The sound of the air conditioner chugging away is only broken by the cart's squeaky wheel.

In the light, I can see that Aakshi's hands are shaking and her face is pale. Palmer keeps looking over his shoulders, trying to find the people he knows are watching us.

"Just a little further," he mutters, not even bothering to check the locker numbers we pass. Thirty rows later, he stops and scrambles at a large combination lock on one of the huge bottom lockers. His fingers slip off suddenly and he lets out an angry, "Dammit!"

I jump back, hands on my bo staff. He looks back at me and shakes his head.

"Sorry. I'm… sorry."

The last words come out as a growl, but he's looking down as he says it. Dr. Girish's lips narrow, but she doesn't look any happier than he does. They're both still dealing with this way better than most civilians would. The locker swings open. Palmer picks up one end of the box and Girish takes the other side. They've managed to transfer it off the cart and into the air when the ambush starts.

"Stay behind me!" I kick the cart on its side, giving them a tiny bit more cover. It's not good but it's better than nothing when a crowd of armed agents start shooting at you.

I flip and dodge, batting out with my bo staff, but I'm ridiculously outnumbered. My only advantage is that they're clearly trying not to hit the scientists or the box right behind me, but even bullets hitting armor still hurt.

Slade appears behind a group of five and takes them down with brutal efficiency before they even realize he's there.

The first round of bullets runs out, and half the group reloads while the other half pull out knives and decide to take their chances. Four on one isn't fair, but I take them down with only a few more cuts and scrapes than I had before, plus one throbbing ankle. Palmer lets out a shout, and Aakshi reaches for him from behind the upturned cart. A group of agents is keeping Slade busy while another team decided to take Palmer instead of making another attempt at the device.

I sprint after them, turning the corner and crossing into the next corridor, quickly closing the distance. I hurl a projectile into the wrist of the guy holding Palmer's arm, who swears as the doctor wrenches himself free. He punches the agent on his other side in the face and knocks him to the ground. I charge forwards, slamming the first agent in the helmet with my bo staff. Palmer tackles the third guy and the numbers four through eight come after me with knives and guns blazing.

Fighting five against one is harder when they all come at you in synch and they've clearly been watching how you fight. The only good thing is that they're too close to each other to risk firing a shot. The charge in my staff is running low and blocking a strike from the left and the middle is hard enough without the guy on the right trying to take my head off. I duck under a fist swinging at my head and follow it with a back-kick in the chest that knocks the guy off his feet. His friend takes his place and I dodge another knife strike, swinging my bo staff around to make a barrier. I realize they have me surrounded too late to do anything but react to the onslaught. I can't see Palmer over the tops of their heads and fear runs down my back.

One of them kicks me in the back of the kneecap and my leg buckles. I go down, curling to land on my side instead of my wrists. One of them tries to kick me and I catch his knee on both sides, tugging forwards to throw him as hard as I can at the two guys on the other side.

Two left.

I roll onto my feet in time for one of them to charge at me, and when he gets close enough, I flip into the air, vaulting off his shoulders and nailing him in the back of the head with my heel. I land on both feet and turn.

My heart pounds. The last agent has one arm wrapped around Palmer's neck and the other aiming a gun at me. Dr. Palmer is barely conscious, his head lolling forwards in the agent's grip while he tugs at his arm.

"Let him go," I say, lowering myself into a fighting stance with my bo staff at ready position.

"Not an option," the agent frowns before he opens fire.

I charge forwards, staff swinging. He dodges and retreats but I keep pressing. He gets another shot off and it nails me in the shoulder. Pain explodes through the bulletproof armor and I fall flat onto my back. The next thing I know, his foot slams into my face and there's a crack as my nose breaks. Bloods runs down and I shout as the pain burns across my face, trying to get out of the way but my head spins and he draws his foot back again.

There's a squelching sound like a knife being dragged across a squishy rock.

His whole body freezes. A choked sound escapes his throat and his eyes go wider than I've ever seen a person's eyes go.

The tip of a sword pokes through the left side of his chest, right where his heart is. Blood spills out of the cut, first a little and then more and more and then dark red blood gushes out of the hole, running down his shirt and pooling on the floor. He goes limp slowly, like his body didn't realize he was dying at first.

"NO!" I scream, pushing myself up but it's too late. Slade pulls the swords out in one smooth motion and the man drops to the ground with a hollow thud. The color is bleaching from his skin and he gurgles on the blood and spit spilling over his lips. It stains his chin crimson as it drips down.

I throw myself onto my knees and press my hands over the hole in his chest as hard as I can, desperately trying to stop the bleeding even though it's too late. The sword went all the way through his heart. Blood soaks through my gloves and warm, thick ooze covers my hands and there's so much blood.

Tears run down my face and the puddle around us is just getting bigger but the man is still alive. His eyes lock onto mine. They're a deep hazel with flecks of green and gold and there's a hardness to his gaze that pins me in place. He knows he's about to die. His lips move, stained with blood and cracked, and a hollow wheezing comes out. He's trying to say something but there's too much blood and he gurgles again, bubbles of spit pooling at the corners of his mouth.

I can't tell when he dies. The look in his eyes changes slowly; the hardness doesn't soften, but it shifts. All the muscles that were strained and taut relax and a new smell joins the stench of iron. A few seconds ago, he was alive. Now there's just a body covered in blood and feces and hazel eyes staring at nothing for the rest of eternity.

Slade grabs the back of my shirt and drags me to my feet. I look up at him, horrified and numb, thick blood congealing on my hands and caking into the legs of my pants and staining my shoes.

"You… you…"

"Your mask fell off," Slade holds it out, paying no attention to the corpse on the floor behind me.

"You killed him."

"To save your life," Slade answers slowly.

I open my mouth to say something, to yell, to scream, to take back the blood covering the floor and drying on my skin, but nothing comes out.

"He was about to shoot you," he drops to one knee, putting his hands on my shoulders and leaning forwards until I have no choice but to look at him, "If I hadn't stopped him, you would be dead."

"No," I shake my head, numbness spreading down my body like someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me, "No. You killed him! You didn't have to… you could've…"

"Breathe. You're okay."

"No! No, no, no, no, no…"

"Dammit," I hear Slade growl, before he's back in my space again, "You're bleeding."

He reaches forwards but I jerk back, slapping his hands away.

"Don't touch me," I growl.

"Renegade—"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" I scream, pushing myself to my feet. Tears slide down my face, dissolving the lines of dried blood, "You're a murderer! You killed him! You could have taken him out instead of…"

My voice cuts off, throat closing as a wave of grief crashes into me.

"I've had enough of this," Slade shakes his head.

"Stay away from me!" I spit, pulling out my bo staff and lowering to a defensive position.

Shit, he's fast. I dodge, parrying with the bo staff but every strike just makes my arms hurt and he just keeps pressing me back towards the row of lockers. If he corners me, that's it.

I barely jump out of the way of his foot, landing in time to block a punch with my staff. I pull back and change directions, swinging through the slam the weapon into his temple. Then I drop the staff, turn, and sprint the other way.

I get two steps before he grabs the back of my neck. A stabbing pain erupts under his hand, but it's gone in a second. It only takes another two seconds before everything goes numb.

But it's not just numb. It's fuzzy.

Everything is fuzzy.

My eyes start to close and everything is fuzzy and dark.

Except the lights.

They're light.

Really light.

Too light.

My eyes close.

Ray Palmer

"Easy, doctor, take it easy," Ray heard. There were people on either side of him, hands trying to help prop him up, "You're alright."

He blinked his eyes open slowly, finding himself on the ground surrounded by paramedics.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Heart rate one forty-five, bp one thirty over eighty. Appropriate pupil dilation in response to stimuli," one paramedic rambled off, poking and prodding Ray until he almost shoved the woman away. A man in a dark suit approached, gesturing for them to stop.

"Give him some room to breathe, and someone get that mask off him," the man ordered. A paramedic pulled the oxygen mask off of Ray's face and he exhaled in relief as the claustrophobia faded, "You gave us a scare, Dr. Palmer."

"Yeah, well that's going around lately. Maybe something that should have been mentioned in any of the security runs," Ray snarled.

"Easy, doc. We're not as all-knowing as the movies make us look. We briefed you on all the possible threats we knew about, but the NIDP is barely on our radar. Hell, they're barely on anyone's radar."

"Then do you care to explain to me why they tried to drag me and my prototype out of the building if they're so harmless, Agent?"

"Ray-"

"It's Dr. Palmer. You and I are not friends."

"Fine. Dr. Palmer, we had the situation handled. Head bumps aside, you made it out in one piece along with everyone else who worked in the building. If you want to be angry that you don't have top level clearance, if you want to be angry that I left out some details so you and your team could sleep at night, fine. As long as you understand that we took all necessary precautions."

"So you're hiring ninjas instead of STRIKE teams now?" Ray seethed.

"Special circumstances."

"Agent Waters, everyone in this building was at risk tonight. Anyone could have been killed if the wrong person got pissed off. You had better give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't hand in my two weeks right this second."

"We didn't know this would happen," Waters admitted after a pause, "This is a high priority project, and we treated it with the same precautions and considerations we give our most important projects. We've heard rumors from the beginning that various groups would like to get their hands on it, but until two days ago we had absolutely nothing to suspect there would be a real attempt. We had every precaution in place. My only regret is that our response time was so long. We're not omniscient, but I promise your, Dr. Palmer, we didn't leave you undefended."

Ray closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down.

"What happened to my prototype?"

Agent Waters looked a tiny bit sheepish.

"We aren't sure where it is, but all the invaders have been neutralized. They didn't get their hands on it."

Ray stood up and headed back for the building. Waters followed him silently, waving off the paramedics that tried to tag along. The agent didn't try to make any conversation which saved him a punch in the face as far as Ray was concerned. For now.

"Smart," Waters said when Ray unlocked the flammables cabinet to reveal the mostly intact prototype.

Ray ground his teeth together and turned to face the man.

"How many casualties?"

"I told you, everyone made it out of the building."

"No. You told me that everyone who worked in the building made it out. So you have one more chance to give me a real answer."

Agent Waters shook his head.

"Just one. Ray, he knew what he was doing and what the stakes were."

"He knew the stakes? That's your excuse?! Your 'necessary precautions' got people killed, and it was almost a hell of a lot worse," Ray seethed.

The man didn't respond.

Ray turned around so he didn't have to look at him, and also to extract the hidden communicator out from where he'd stuffed it inside the mesh. The red light was on now, which meant he didn't have to wait much longer for the Justice League to respond.

"Well, you got your prototype. I hope it was worth it. You don't need me to finish it from here."

"You're making a mistake, Ray."

"If you think so, then I know it's the right choice," Ray nodded at him firmly, "Agent."

"Atom, are you alright? We got your distress signal, but it looks like everything is under control now," Superman asked, touching down on the roof of the building.

The Atom frowned, leaning forwards to watch the agents move around on the ground. From seven stories up, they looked like ants, which was ironic given the fact that the Atom was currently an inch tall.

"Does the League have any info on the NIDP? Specifically, what they want with counter-intelligence gear?"

Superman held out his hand and the Atom jumped, easily generating enough force to propel himself up.

"Let's find out."

Martian Manhunter, Black Canary and Green Lantern were waiting in the conference room when they arrived. Superman put the Atom on the ground and he returned to his normal size.

"What happened?" Green Lantern demanded.

"A group of foreign intelligence agents tried to kill me tonight," the Atom took the seat next to him. Superman sat on his other side, completing the circle.

"What?" Canary asked.

"Long story short, they took the building hostage."

He recounted the whole story, beginning with the late-night call with Carol all the way up to possibly temporarily terminating his contract and possibly costing his parent university hundreds of thousands of dollars.

"And you couldn't get to your suit?" Green Lantern demanded.

"That's the thing; I had it on the whole time! At least, the belt. But it didn't matter, Hal. There can't be any records connecting me to the Atom. A lot of the work my research group does is for military contracts, and the size-shifting technology I've developed cannot become government property. I don't make weapons, and if the CIA or the Army found out, they could take it all and commit atrocities. Biological warfare on a microscopic scale or nukes big enough to take out an entire country. I will do everything in my power to keep my technology out of the wrong hands."

The heroes stayed silent, but Manhunter nodded his agreement and Canary pursed her lips grimly.

"They brought in two mercenaries to fight a squad of thirty-five trained combatants and they were scary as hell. I…" Ray swallowed, not feeling particularly heroic, "They didn't let Aakshi or me out of their sight for even a second. I know how it sounds, but the guy was terrifying. It just knew somehow that if I did anything, if I used any of my powers or slipped away, he would know my ID and that would be it. That's not to say… if things really went sideways, and Aakshi's life was in danger, I would've done whatever I had to, but god I…"

"It is alright," Manhunter stopped him.

"How could I have made the choice between saving lives and keeping my secrets safe? If I'd done something, nobody would've died."

"Atom, none of us blame you for that," Black Canary put a hand on his shoulder.

Superman nodded, "Ultimately, the League has chosen to protect our members' identities and technologies rather than share them with the world at large for the exact reasons you said."

"And for god's sakes, Ray, these guys were actively trying to kill you. Sometimes there's only so much you can do!" Green Lantern threw his hands in the air.

"Particularly when you are in a compromised position," Martian Manhunter nodded.

"Honestly, it just… it didn't even feel real. I knew when we got the proposal that the project was coming through the NSF on behalf of the CIA, but that was it. I have no idea why the Pokolistanis would want it, or how they even found out we were working on the project in the first place. Everything that happened tonight came out of absolutely nowhere."

"You have my word, the League will look into this," Superman promised, "We can also outfit your building with breach alarms, similar to the setups at STAR Labs, WayneTech and Ferris Industries. If there's an emergency, we'll get the signal no matter what."

"Thank you," he nodded, "That's all I came to ask for."

"Speaking of requests, have you changed your mind about ours?" Green Lantern asked. The Atom frowned before sighing.

"Before tonight, the answer was still no. But… I didn't act tonight when I could've saved a life. I think it might be time to stop playing it so safe."

"There's no pressure," Black Canary raised her hands, "We won't kick you off the reserve roster if you say no."

"No. I've made up my mind. I want to become a full member of the Justice League."

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Gotham Academy

Thursday, September 27th, 2012

"…and the homework should be posted on Blackboard already. Actually, let me check if it's actually up or if this website is being impossible again."

"What are you doing this weekend?" Bette leans across Artemis' desk while Mr. Torcado turns around to fight with his computer. I snort. It's not up yet, and it's going to take him at least five minutes to figure that out. We've got ten minutes until he gives up completely, and the bell's going to ring in seven. Artemis shrugs.

"Probably nothing. I might go visit my uncle."

"The one in Star City?" Bette asks.

Artemis nods, copying the last equation off the board before looking up.

Wow. She's really committing to the Green Arrow's niece thing.

"That's so far," Bette frowns, "Especially just for a weekend."

"I was actually just there with Bruce for a Queen Industries fundraiser. Star's a really fun city, you know, as long as you're not hanging out with Oliver Queen," I smile innocently and Artemis's eyes widen like her cover's been blown.

"I'm not! Hanging with Oliver Queen, obviously," she backpedals, glaring at me while pretending not to. If she ever finds out my identity, she'll kill me for this, but for now this is too good to pass up.

"Too bad," Babs whacks me in the arm, "It'd be nice if someone besides Dick could name drop for once."

"Babs! I'm just kidding. Ollie's a nice guy," I shake my head in fake embarrassment, "Sorry, that's not even remotely relevant to you and your uncle. What part of Star does he live in?"

"I don't know. It's a couple blocks from the train station," Artemis shrugs, trying to hide the blush spreading across her face, "Anyways, what are you doing, Bette?"

"I'm going to see Taylor Swift!" Bette beams.

"What?!" Nick finally looks up from his phone.

"No way! You got tickets?" Babs demands, "I thought they sold out in five minutes!"

"Well, my dad is friends with the guy who owns the venue, so he pulled some strings!"

Artemis blinks, "You guys do know how you sound, right?"

Bette nods her head in acknowledgement, "Okay, yes, but… I'm not going to turn away Taylor Swift tickets."

She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world and Artemis gives her a not-so-subtle side-eye. The bell rings, interrupting an awkward standoff but leading to a super awkward goodbye and Artemis practically stomping out of the room. Babs and I look at each other. She frowns and tilts her head at Artemis. I nod.

"Hey Bette, did you still want to carpool to practice next week?" Babs asks, giving me time to catch Artemis alone.

"Artemis!" I call. She turns back.

"Did I forget something?"

"No. Just wanted to walk with you."

"Where's Babs?" She raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

I make a face.

"She and Bette ditched me to talk gymnastics. Like gymnastics could ever be better than acrobatics."

"That's a pretty hard stance."

I shrug, tugging on my backpack straps as we turn the corner, "Hey, I'm an acrobat. Anything they can do, I could do when I was five."

"Riiiight."

I almost stop walking. When Bruce first adopted me, everywhere I went, people called me a charity case or a circus freak. Anyone who's trying to be an asshole still calls me that. But it's weird that there are still people who don't know any of that.

Artemis is my friend, but when she looks at me as a civilian, she just sees money.

"I get it," I tell her. She rolls her eyes.

"Sure you do, Mr. My-Dad-Is-Literally-A-Billionaire."

"Artemis, I grew up in a circus. My parents were trapeze artists," I pause, "We were poor."

The words feel bitter on my tongue. I hate that it feels like I should be ashamed of.

"Oh," she looks down, reaching for the railing as we hit the stairs, "I just can't get used to it."

"Yeah…"

We fall into step in a huge group of students escaping school for the day. The sound of eighty kids talking bounces off the confined walls of the stairwell, masking our conversation.

"Don't get me wrong, Bette is so nice and sweet, but she's just… entitled. You know? She doesn't even realize how much she has."

"Yup."

"Do you get used to it?"

I think about the fancy parties and the constant trips to islands and vineyards and how Bruce pours money into back into the city through Wayne Industries and also into Batman's tech.

"Eventually. But it's not about suddenly having all the money anyone could ever want. It's the people. In the circus, people would literally give you the clothes off their back. You helped however you could. The thing that's hard to get used to is that a lot of people here always put themselves first."

Artemis snorts, "Okay, I see that."

"Don't let it get to you. Most of the people here really are nice. And I know Bette can be a little oblivious sometimes but she's a good friend. That's what Babs says, at least," I grin.

"Thanks, Grayson. You're not… as bad as I thought."

"High praise, Crock. You can call me Dick."

"I'd really prefer not to."

"Oh, get over yourself."

"I'll think about it."

We part ways at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll see you soon," I wave. Not that she knows I mean, "see you at the Cave in a few hours."

"Bye, Dick," Artemis says, grimacing when she realizes she used my name without thinking. Then she pauses. Finally, she shrugs. Cool. Guess we're officially on a first name basis.

I check my watch. It's 2:50. That means I have plenty of time before training tonight, and since I don't have a lot of homework… maybe I'll convince Batman to come on an early patrol before I zeta to the Cave.

"Why are we here again?" I drum my fingers against the roof's retaining wall and I can practically see Batman's eye twitching under the mask with every new tap.

"Scoping out a lead. Like I told you before," he answers gruffly.

"Okay, but here? Really?" I raise an eyebrow. Batman ignores me, so I poke at him again, "Your lead just happens to be on a diamond supplier that a certain cat lady likes to frequent?"

"Don't you have training soon?"

I roll my eyes. He never rises to the bait anymore, even if he knows I'm right. Stupid Catwoman, cutting a perfectly good patrol short. Then again, I check my holocomputer and Batman's right. I gotta go.

"Night, Batman."

Batman grunts in response.

I hit the rooftops, running and grappling across the Gotham skyline towards the nearest Zeta tube. I see the phone booth and drop down behind it. The Zeta records indicate no activity tonight, so if Artemis is coming for training she hasn't shown up yet.

I duck behind the booth and wait.

Luckily, it doesn't take more than two minutes, three minutes tops before she gets here.

"Artemis?" I grin, stepping out of the shadows. She gasps and turns, eyes wide.

"Robin! I, uh…"

"Wow, fancy seeing you here, in Gotham City. Batman's city. You know, instead of Star City, where your Uncle Green Arrow lives!"

Artemis blushes bright red and starts stammering something about her cousin and a spelling bee, and it takes all the self-control I have not to ask if that cousin is Green Arrow's kid. I've teased her about Uncle Ollie enough for today.

Finally, she has enough and snaps, "Alright, whatever. Let's just go to the cave."

I hold my hands up placatingly.

"You know I'm kidding, Arty. We're always happy to have you here in Gotham. Well at least, I am. Better watch out for…" I trail off, lifting my fingers to my head to mime Bat ears.

"Don't call me that," Artemis rolls her eyes, "Now get in the stupid box or we're gonna be late."

I shrug and push open the telephone box doors, closing them behind me. The scanner whirrs to life and announces, "Recognized: Robin, B-01."

The world disappears in a flash of light before the cave reappears. Everything is fine for about a second and a half, and then a fireball hurtles towards my head.

"—in!"

Something's pushing me. It hurts. Everything hurts.

"—bin!"

Dizzy.

Pain! Sharp, hard pressure hits and a million things hit me at once.

"Robin!" Artemis shrieks, hands over my ribcage.

Coughs erupt out of my lungs, water spilling out. A hand slaps my back, forcing the rest of the water out. I gasp for air, coughing and clawing at empty air.

"He's breathing!" Artemis exclaims, voice overflowing with sheer relief.

I take a few deep breaths and smile at her.

"Way to get traught."

Artemis smiles back like she's about to start crying from sheer relief. She helps me sit up, and even though the world spins, I'm okay. I nod at her dizzily, looking around the cave. Superboy and Kid Flash are still encased in metal, but they're both awake.

"Is he okay?" Kid Flash shouts, and Artemis nods so fast it gives me whiplash.

"He's okay!" she shouts back.

I see Aqualad leaning over Miss Martian and I grab Artemis's wrist.

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine! She woke up a second before you did."

"What happened?"

"Torpedo hit you," Artemis takes a deep breath to steady herself, "I thought you drowned. I pretended to give myself up, and I had one shot. Got the EMP going, it worked just like you said."

I smile at her and try to say something reassuring, but my head throbs and the world spins violently.

"I'm going to pass out now," I mutter.

Wayne Manor

3 am

My arms are shaking even though they're pulled tight around my legs. The night sky through the window is just starting to lighten; dawn isn't for another two hours but it's still light enough to pick out the branches on the trees outside. Normally when I can't sleep, I climb out onto the roof through the upper living room window, but not tonight. I've never been afraid of falling, but I can't trust my body not to fail me the way it did today.

Red Torpedo never should have gotten the jump on me. My friends were counting on me and I failed them. If it wasn't for Artemis, we wouldn't have gotten out alive. Wally and Kaldur and M'gann and Conner… they would have died because of me.

The tidal wave crashing into me hasn't stopped playing over and over in my mind and I've tried to figure out what went wrong. I know the answer, no matter how much I hate it.

It was my fault. I should have been better.

I'm supposed to be better than this.

I don't know how to work with people less experienced than me. This team… I was so excited about it, but I shouldn't be on it. They're better off… and way safer without me.

I forget how they think on missions. I know what my objective is, and I forget that they aren't Batman. They won't take the lead if I do the scouting, and they won't pick up the slack when I make a mistake. Instead, my mistakes make their jobs impossible. When I do my ninja thing- or whatever Wally calls it-, they have no idea where I'm going or where I am, while Batman would already be three steps ahead.

I trust them to watch my back when they aren't, and I get in the way when they actually know what they're doing.

I acted the only way I could. I've been fighting crime for long enough that I know how to stay focused when the world is crashing around me. I've been trained by Batman and by Slade for life-or-death situations. But today, I was so scared for Wally and my friends that I couldn't focus. I was too slow, time and time again. The Reds almost caught us so many times, and beyond thinking of a way to communicate with them, I had no plan.

I couldn't let Artemis know that, though. If I told her, "Get traught or get dead," then showed her how scared I was, she'd never have been able to pull herself together. But maybe if I had, she would have had my back when I tried to install the EMP.

I shouldn't have trusted her. Or maybe I should have, maybe I was right to, because she saved us all in the end.

But I let us down. I didn't see Red Torpedo. I should have been paying more attention, I should have been faster installing the EMP, I should have been faster moving out of the way of the tidal wave, I should have held my breath long enough to stay conscious instead of passing out…

I should have… I should have been… I should be better.

I can't be on a team with them. They're superheroes with actual powers, and I'm just a kid who's in over my head. They depend on me every time we go on a mission. They put their lives in my hands and I can't… I'm not good enough to keep them safe.

I don't know how to be on a team.

When I work with Batman, we're a seamless duo. I know how he fights and thinks, and he knows me just as well. He can adapt to a situation and he can pick up the slack when I flip the wrong way.

Slade, even with his demand for perfection, is easy to work with too. He knows what I'm going to do before I do it, and he never misses a beat when we have to change the plan. He takes the lead, tells me what to do and it works. Fighting alongside Slade makes me feel… invincible in a way that not even Batman can do.

Even those team-ups with Wally and Roy were better. We watched out for each other and we trusted each other to have our backs. Sure, it wasn't as good as working with our mentors, but it was fun and we were safer in numbers.

But the team… we haven't worked together long enough to know how each other fight or think, what our strengths and weaknesses are. We just do our best not to die, and that's not good enough. Kaldur is trying his best, but he can't do everything, and I'm not good enough to lead other people and pull my own weight. I just can't do it.

I lean my head back against the wall. Quick inhale, long exhale. The corner of my lip curls up in disgust.

I let my team down. I couldn't save them. I failed. Not to mention the fact that I almost drowned on top of leaving all my friends to their demise, and abandoning an insecure former assassin to defeat two super-villain-androids by herself. And then, just when we thought we were safe, we were betrayed all over again. We were all helpless against Red Tornado's attack.

That stupid robot!

This wasn't supposed to happen. Slade promised he would help me so that I never had to be helpless again. All the lying, the sneaking out, the training, it was all for nothing. It was useless.

What are we supposed to do now? How are we supposed to deal with knowing that the enemy could ambush us at any time and we'll be sitting ducks? The League couldn't reach us. Mount Justice was supposed to be safe but how will it ever be safe again? Will we ever feel safe again?

When was the last time I ever really felt safe?

I close my eyes.

That's easy. I was eight years old, climbing up the ladder to join my parents on the trapeze.

My life started going to shit when Tony Zucco murdered my parents and it has never stopped. Every time I think something is getting better, life reminds me that I don't get to have good things.

Now, everything I do is just another mistake, and I don't have the slightest clue about what to do now.

Gotham Academy

Friday, September 28th, 2012

"Does this stuff even count as pizza?" Josh asks, holding up the offending slice. He makes a face as the cheese peels off and flops down onto the plate. Bette makes a choked sound and pushes his plate away from her. Josh takes this as a cue to shake the remains of the pizza dramatically, "I mean, seriously! This is cardboard and melted cheese!"

Babs laughs and pokes the pile of cheese with a plastic spoon, "Yum! So appetizing!"

She slides her bag over so I have enough room to set my tray down. I toss my backpack on the ground and sit. Bette's friend Nick looks up from his Caesar salad and waves at me.

"This food is honestly disturbing! You'd think at a school this expensive, they'd at least be able to afford something edible. See, at least Dick has the right idea," Josh points at my lunch.

I try to grin and make some kind of joke about how the food should be a little more turbed, but Artemis is sitting next to Josh, head buried in her calculus homework. Instead, I shrug, "Pb&j is always a safe bet."

"If you're feeling adventurous, you could always try the sketchy sushi," Babs grins.

"I'm not spending nine dollars on something that might poison me!" Josh exclaims, looking scandalized.

Artemis slams her math book shut and looks up angrily, "Or, you could stop complaining about the food and just be grateful that you're at a school where they actually have enough to feed everyone."

Everyone goes quiet. Nick looks down at the table and scratches his hair.

"Are… you okay, Artemis?" Bette asks, her voice thick with worry.

"Yeah. I'm just…" she pauses. The haunted look in her eyes matches mine, "I had a bad night."

I look away so she can't see the shiver running down my spine. I owe her my life. I wonder if she's ever saved anyone before. It's scarier than being saved, because afterwards, you have all the time in the world to think about how close you were to failing, how close someone else was to dying because of your mistakes.

When I look up, Bette has a hand on Artemis's arm and is whispering something to her. Everyone else is trying to restart the conversation and give them privacy.

"So… your brother's visiting soon, right?" Babs asks Nick.

"Yeah. His band has a gig in New York so we're all going to go with him."

"That's so cool! What does he play?"

"He's the vocals. I can show you a video clip if you want."

"Yeah!"

While Nick pulls out his phone and entertains Babs and Josh, I pick at my sandwich. My stomach lets out a growl even though there's a cold pit in the middle of my chest.

I realize I've been staring into space when Artemis looks at me and our eyes lock. She looks exhausted and the bags under her eyes are even darker than mine.

I should run over to her and give her a hug and tell her she did everything she could and none of it was her fault and thank her because she saved my life and all our friends' too. But I can't. She doesn't know who I really am, and I'm still not allowed to tell her.

Something cold and prickly presses into my arm and I jump.

"You good, Dick?"

Using dramatics to cover the fact that she completely caught me off guard, I let my head fall forwards and whine, "I'm tired."

Babs lets out a hum of agreement and takes a bite of something crunchy, "Take a nap before calc. We have like twenty minutes."

"You'd forget to wake me up," I mumble, head buried in my arms.

"Oh yeah. I do forget sometimes."

I lift my head up so I can roll my eyes at her. She responds my sticking something in my face.

"Celery?"

Shit!

I almost fall off the bench as I push myself away from the potentially deadly vegetable. I never want to eat a piece of celery ever again, knowing what Slade can use it for. Not now, not ever.

"No way! Get that thing away from me!"

"You're so weird," Babs laughs, shaking her head.

"Hey, some guy just died from an allergy attack."

"To celery?" Josh asks.

Crap why did I say that? Crap crap crap what if they get suspicious? Why did I say that?! It's not like it's the kind of thing a normal kid would know about for any reason whatsoever! Shit!

"Oh wait, I think heard about that," Bette says, reaching for her phone. After a second, she brightens and holds out her screen. The cold pit in my stomach tightens and I take a deep breath as quietly as I can.

"That's crazy!" Josh exclaims.

Artemis, curious despite her exhaustion, grabs the phone away and starts reading with a puzzled expression, "Apparently he got coffee at this hipster coffee place, and someone accidentally used celery water in the coffee machine."

"Who the hell puts celery water in a coffee machine?" Bette snorts.

"What if it wasn't an accident?!" Nick gasps theatrically. My heart races and for a second, my stomach drops like I fell off the bench again.

"Oh, come on," Bette pushes his hand off her lunch tray, stopping him from grabbing her Oreos.

Artemis frowns, looking at the article closer.

"What if it wasn't?" she mutters, her frown deepening.

Shit! Not good!

My palms are starting to sweat and I clear my throat nervously, "Uh… can we maybe not talk about this during lunch?"

Artemis looks at me in surprise, then her expression turns guilty, "Sorry."

Babs looks back and forth between us.

"…are you sure you guys are okay?"

I stare down at my half-eaten pb&j and my stomach churns, "I'm not hungry. I'll see you in class."

I grab my bag and head for the bathroom, barely noticing that Artemis is making a bee-line for the exit too. I close the stall door and bury my head in my hands.

My phone chirps once and I jump. That's Robin's phone. My non-superhero phones are always set to vibrate or silent.

I dig it out of my bag and open the message as fast as I can. The messaging app takes a few seconds to open, which sucks but there's no way to make the encryption faster. Or at least, no ways that won't take a huge amount of time and effort.

It's from Artemis in the team's group chat.

'Hey… anyone else kind of not want to go back to the cave today?'

My heart thuds and I almost choke with relief, but I don't want to be the first one to respond. One by one, everyone's icons drop to the bottom of the screen, showing that they've seen it. But apparently no one knows what to say either.

Kaldur starts typing, but he deletes whatever he was going to say.

Thank god for Wally, because he charged forwards with his usual grace and saved the day.

'Pizza? There's a place in Keystone'

'Yes!' M'gann responds immediately. I send a thumbs-up emoji. Everyone responds quickly after that, and no one feels the need to say anything else.

'Great. It's Pizza Corner on Second Street, one block from the zeta.'

Pizza Corner

Surprisingly, Wally is the only one there when I walk in. I guess Barry really is the reason they always run late. He waves me over to a circular booth way in the back where we'll all be able to talk in privacy. It's perfect.

"How did you find this place?" I ask, sliding into the seat next to him.

He rolls his eyes at me, "Come on, Dick. Like you don't know I've been to every single pizza place in the country. Well, state. Okay, city. Well… actually, yeah. State."

"Of course," I grin wryly, "How could I have possibly forgotten?"

"Guess there's just more important things on your mind," he jokes, but then the humor is gone. I put my chin in my hands and sigh.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

I snort.

"Crappy. I don't know," I lift my head up and look at him. His ginger hair, which is normally messy, looks like a tornado hit it. His green eyes look sunken into his skull, and his skin is pale, "Are you okay? You look… horrible."

"Wow, thanks," he leans back in the booth, his head knocking against the wall lightly, "I couldn't sleep at all last night, and I got twitchy if I stayed still for too long. I ended up running the entire eastern seaboard and back. Sort of forgot to eat."

I wince, "Hence the…" I point at his face, where the skin looks really sallow and pale.

"Yeah. Pizza should be out any minute though," his stomach lets out an enormous rumble and he looks miserable. I reach into my pocket, where Alfred cut the seams so I can reach into the utility belt under my sweatshirt. Batman restocked everything last night after… so I have a bunch of protein bars.

"Here," I toss one to him.

"You're the best."

He unwraps it and takes a huge bite, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Rob. I really thought we were ready for this gig, but last night? We were—I was useless. I didn't even have a chance to fight, and then WHAM! Third degree burns everywhere from being encased in molten steel. And you and Artemis, I thought… I thought we were all going to die. And where was the fucking League?"

My hands clench into trembling fists and I realize how angry I am. No. Not angry, furious. The League told us the Cave was safe. They told us we would be protected there, and that they were keeping an eye out in case something went wrong.

It's not the League's fault that Red Tornado betrayed us.

But when we needed their help the most, they weren't there. If Artemis hadn't made that shot, the Reds would have killed us all, or taken us as hostages, and the League would have been too late to stop them. The League made us vulnerable, and then they didn't protect us.

And now we're the ones paying for their mistakes.

Wally takes another bite of the bar and chews with a sour expression. We both look up when the bell above the door rings and Artemis walks in. I wave her over and she sits next to Wally at the end of the booth. For once, they don't immediately start fighting with each other.

"I got four plain and three pepperoni," he tells her as he finishes inhaling the protein bar.

"What are the rest of us going to eat?" she teases, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes.

Holy trauma Batman. Yesterday really fucked us up.

Kaldur walks in a minute later, wearing a dark blue sweater in the same shade as mine. The three of us watch our normally confident, steadfast leader trudge his way towards the booth. His shoulders are slumped forwards and defeated. He tries to smile when he reaches us, but calling the expression a grimace would be generous. I move over as he slides into the center of the booth next to me, thinking of something I can say that doesn't have anything to do with this mess.

"We match," I say in the jumbled Atlantean-Surface mixed language we haven't used in years. Kaldur blinks, then looks down at his sweater to confirm it.

"Smart minds think the same," he answers in the same way.

"Chocolate cake is my favorite surface food."

"It is?" he asks in English. I'm not sure if he's more confused at my response or because he knows my favorite food is Alfred's raspberry chocolate chip pancakes.

I shrug, "That's all I can remember how to say. Well, that and 'fuck you, you barnacle infested pile of donkey shit and may your soul burn in the fiery wrath of hell until the depths of the oceans freeze over,' but that seemed kind of rude."

Kaldur laughs softly, and even though it has a kind of bitter edge, I give myself a point for it, "I admit that I don't remember why we decided such an expression was necessary."

"We probably just got bored."

"That would explain it."

He glances over at Wally and frowns, "You do not look well, my friend."

"Pot, kettle," Wally shoots back, but then he forces himself to relax, "I'll be fine after I eat."

The door opens again and M'gann and Conner walk in together. Nobody says anything about how tightly their hands are clasped together.

"Thank Mars you're all okay," M'gann says, like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Artemis pulls her onto the bench and into a hug.

"I'm glad you're okay, too. I was worried I was too late," she admits.

"It was an amazing shot," Conner tells her.

"Indeed," Kaldur agrees.

I was too unconscious to see it, but the odds were a million to one. Artemis flushes, looking down at the table. Nobody knows what to say next. I take a breath and say what we're all thinking.

"The cave was supposed to be safe. That was the whole point of hiding in plain sight. But it didn't work."

"They caught us with our guard down," Wally adds darkly, "So what do we do now?"

We all look at Kaldur.

"We need a way to alert the League if anything like this should ever happen again. Clearly, the cave's security is not infallible. Robin, I believe you could do something to fix that."

"I can try."

"We have been too patient, blindly waiting for the League to direct us. We must be more proactive. We need to familiarize ourselves with whoever we may face, so that we are prepared to exploit their weaknesses while protecting ours. I will ask the Batman to equip us all with emergency supplies. Rebreathers, fire-suppressants, back-up radios. Emergency beacons to contact the League in crucial situations."

"And what do we do about Tornado?" Conner asks.

"Regardless of what the League thinks, Tornado is one of ours. We will find him. Agreed?" Kaldur asks.

I look at Wally. Wally looks at Artemis. Artemis looks at M'gann. M'gann looks at Conner. Conner looks at me. We're all thinking the same thing.

"Agreed," M'gann says.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

The Haunt

Sunday, September 30th, 2012

I slip off my motorcycle and tuck it behind a pile of crates, throwing my helmet on top. The garage is empty this time of night, and the closet door that hides the staircase is unlocked. A quick glance at my watch confirms I'm not running late. It's quarter to eight, so I'm right on time.

I pull open the steel door, typing in the code with my left hand. Before I learned my way around, I thought the Haunt was a giant underground complex with hundreds of rooms that I would never see all of. Then I found out that Slade designed a series of parallel hallways that stretched the perimeter of the building, which he could program to lead his victim around in circles through automatic doors. At least now he's programmed the doors to slide open manually, so that if I can make my way around on my own. There's no direct way to get to Slade's office, but if I go through the hidden door on the left wall, I can get to the hallway that connects to the actual Haunt. I still haven't been in all the rooms yet, but to my knowledge all the rooms are off of one main hallway.

The steel door to the office is closed, so I knock twice and open the door without waiting for a reply. If Slade is busy with anything or he doesn't want me to come in, the door will be locked anyway. Slade is sitting at his desk, filling out forms or something. It might be plans for a job, and I don't want any part of that. He turns around when I walk in.

"You're right on time. How did the assignment go?"

I pull my backpack off, pulling out a stapled packet of about thirty sheets thick.

"It was pretty easy once I figured out that the cameras can rotate 180," Slade nods and stands up from his chair, crossing the room to take the packet. He flips through it, his eye flickering back and forth as he examines it.

"What about this one?" he asks, holding up the page so I can see.

It's the floor plan of a building with ten rooms and two hallways connecting them in a long rectangle. There are sixteen red and blue circles representing security cameras and microphones, with circles drawn to show the area they cover.

I press my lips together in annoyance.

"You were supposed to use no more than fourteen cameras."

"I know, but the layout is really complicated and there is too much furniture in the way to be able to use one camera per room," I stifle a yawn, "Besides, there's no reason we can't just use sixteen. You can afford one more."

Slade doesn't bother to dignify that with a response. Instead, he points to a series of small rooms and asks, "Did you notice the three-quarter walls at this intersection? Or the fact that these two are closets?"

I'm an idiot.

I can replace four cameras with two and cover the same number of rooms. And closets don't need cameras when a hidden microphone will pick up any activity that might possibly occur.

"No," I admit quietly, looking at the ground. Slade had specifically told me to pay attention to those kinds of features when he assigned me the packet.

Instead of yelling at me, Slade asks, "When was the last time you slept?"

That takes me by surprise and I have to actually think for a second.

"I got four hours this morning," I don't mention the all-nighter I pulled two days ago, sitting in front of the foyer window and thinking about how close my Team came to dying. Slade closes the packet and sets it on the table that doubles as my desk.

"I think you should go get some sleep."

"What? But I thought we were going to train?"

"Richard. You are completely exhausted. Catching up on sleep is more important than training that you're half asleep for."

"Oh," I suddenly can't hold back a yawn, "That sounds pretty whelming."

Slade rolls his eye, "Do you have to butcher the English language?"

I shrug, fighting back a grin, "It's not going to butcher itself. That would be like, languicide or something."

"Go."

Slade refuses to smile but I can hear it in his voice. I think.

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and leave the office, making a left down the hallway and stopping at the fifth door on the right. It's as boring as a room could possibly be, but I have a few spare sets of workout clothes in the dresser and the training weapons I normally use are laid against the far wall. Over the past few years, this room has started to feel almost normal. Not like home, but not scary and unfamiliar either. Also, after I convinced Slade to switch out the creepy gray sheets for more normal dark blue ones, I could actually kind of feel like it's a normal room. I yawn again and throw my backpack on the ground. A few seconds later, I flop down onto the bed.

It has been a really, really long day. And a long week. Actually, it's been a long year and lately it feels like I can't do anything right no matter what I try.

But right now, the only thing I care about is not being awake anymore.

A scratching sound wakes me up. It's the sound of the door dragging on the floor as it opens. Streams of light flood into the room and I wince a little. Slade's footsteps are almost silent, but I've been around him for long enough to recognize the sound.

I blink, trying to clear my vision and sit up.

"What's going on?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes with one hand a using the other to push myself up to a sitting position.

"I've been asking too much of you," Slade says quietly as he advances towards the bed, "This will help. I've been waiting, but I believe you're ready now."

"Ready? Ready for what?" I shake my head to clear away the exhaustion crowing my vision. Faster than I can see, Slade's fingers lash out, wrapping something around my wrist and tightening it so that my hand is pulled firmly against the bedframe.

"Slade! What are you doing?!" I yelp, heart pounding a million beats an hour.

I tug on the strap, trying to free myself, but Slade's hand tightens around my other wrist, holding it in an iron grip as he crosses to the other side of the bed.

"What the hell?! Let go of me! Let- OW!" I kick the covers off and try to fight back, but he squeezes my wrist so tightly the joint almost pops and white-hot pain shoots down my arm. He fastens something to my other wrist and pulls, forcing my back flat against the mattress.

"Slade! Let me go!"

"No. This is for your own safety. I don't want you to accidentally injure yourself."

Slade secures my other wrist and straightens so that he looms over me. He holds out a syringe so I can see.

"What is that?! What's going on?!" I tug on the straps as hard as I can but they don't budge. I lean forwards, pulling until my shoulder feels like it's about to dislocate. I can't get lose! "Let me go! What are you doing?!"

Slade holds the syringe up and flicks it, shaking out the air bubbles. My heart is in my throat and no matter how hard I pull I can't get my wrists loose.

"Let me out!"

"This contains a basic enhancement formula derived from the serum that I received in the army. It is a growth stimulant that will enhance your reflexes, cognitive processes and it will make REM functions more productive. You will be able to function better with the limited amount of sleep that you get."

"No! Don't you dare put that in me!"

"It will help."

"No! Let me go! Slade!" I struggle and kick and twist but I can't do anything to stop Slade from uncapping the syringe and pressing the needle into my exposed arm.

"Stop it!" I scream but he doesn't stop.

He presses down on the plunger and the serum burns as it enters my skin. I scream, feeling it blaze through my veins and my arms start shaking and then my whole body is convulsing. My blood is on fire and burning agony blazes through my body until everything is pain and all I can see is white. My body writhes against the bed, twitching and kicking and lashing out on its own.

Slade bends low and speaks right into my ear.

"The immediate effects will wear off in a few seconds, and you'll be asleep. Unfortunately, you will be unable to formulate or retrieve memories of the event, so you won't be able to remember any of this. It's a shame. You've finally realized that Robin's time is running out, haven't you, Dick?"

I'm still gasping for breath, but just as suddenly as it started the shaking stops. The pain dissipates and my muscles feel heavy and my bones feel like they've been filled with metal. I collapse against the bed, every part of my body exhausted even though the only thing I can feel is terror.

"No. No, please. Slade. Don't," tears run down my face and my heart is pounding as fast as it can go and the pulse keeps speeding up, "…why?"

"Why what?" Slade shakes his head, "You'll have to be more articulate than that."

The world is already starting to go fuzzy and I fight to keep my eyes open.

"Why are you… doing this?" I pant. My head throbs and the world spins and I push against the pain as hard as I can.

"Because you can be better."

"I don't… want… to…"

"It's not up to you."

Through the dizziness, his words send a cold shock all the way down my spine.

"You're not… you don't… get to…"

"Oh, but you're wrong. You are mine. That is what you agreed to when you agreed to become my apprentice."

"No."

"Yes. I can do whatever I want to you. You can't stop me. Even if you could, you won't."

"I'll… stop... you…"

"No, Richard, you won't. No matter what I do to you, no matter what I make you do, you won't ever break our deal."

"Our deal is…" my vision spins and a spike of pain rails through my head, "You train me… and I… don't… AGH… tell Batman…"

Slade laughs. It starts as a chuckle that builds and builds until his deep laughter is the only thing I can hear and I almost give in to the darkness just to get away from it.

"I've played this part too well. That's not what we agreed to. You agreed to become my apprentice, no matter what, fully understanding that you could never back out. Our deal was that you could go back to Wayne so long as you could keep it a secret."

"I'm not... your… 'prentice."

"Yes, you are. And if you tell anyone about our arrangement, if you breathe a single word to anyone, any member of your precious Justice League, any of your little hero friends, or god help you to Wayne himself, I promise you will never see them again. Unless it's to kill them."

"NO!" I rear up, pulling as hard as I can but my arms still won't move, "I'll stop you!"

"Do you remember what I told you once about relying on your defense? To win, you have to keep everyone you love safe every single time. Can you do that? You're surrounded by liabilities, by my design."

What?

"…not true."

"But it is. You didn't think Wayne would just adopt a flock of children on his own, did you? Getting that street urchin to carjack the Batmobile was as easy as waving a stack of cash in his direction. Cluemaster, Cain, the Drakes, it was simple to get those pieces in place. Just like it's simple to keep you in yours."

"No!"

It's a fight against the darkness just to get that word out, but it's a fight I'm losing. Everything I see if blurry and it's getting worse by the second. There's a shroud of exhaustion settling over my brain, pushing me under no matter how hard I fight. Slade's voice sounds a million miles away but that doesn't stop the horror from reaching all the way through.

"Tell me, Richard, could you live with it? If you broke our deal, could you go on knowing that someone you loved died because of you?"

"...no!"

"You can't protect everyone. Even if I can't get at your siblings, you have so many friends. Barbara. Roy. Your teammates. Most of them have families too. Can you keep them all safe?"

My eyes slide open before the rest of my brain wakes up. Unlike every other morning that I can remember, it's not a battle to wake up. Just, one second I was asleep, the next I was awake. No exhaustion, no problems.

I sit up, stretching my arms over my head and yawning deeply. I feel… really good. Slade was right. Catching up on sleep was a good idea.

Heh. Maybe I should do it more often.

Gotham Academy

Monday, October 1st, 2012

The whistle blows, silencing my entire gym class.

"All right, boys and girls, it's back by popular demand!"

The members of the football and soccer teams grin while the rest of the class groans, dreading the next words.

"Dodgeball!" Mrs. Arden cheers, hoisting the sack of red rubber balls into the air.

Beside me, Babs lets out a frustrated groan, burying her head in her hands.

"It's first period and I can't handle this right now," she mumbles, tugging at her hair. An elbow tapping against my side interrupts me before I can figure out how to respond.

"What do you think, Dick? You up for a 'rousing' game of dodgeball against the gods of sports themselves?" Josh asks.

I snort, "I don't know who actually asked to play dodgeball, and they better hope I don't find out."

"What are you going to do? Recite mathematical formulas at them until their brain cells explode?" Josh laughs, "You know, that would probably work."

"Hey," Babs rears her head up suddenly, "What do you think is in there?"

She points across the gym to two janitors hauling long boxes to the supply closets against the far wall. A tall man wearing a cotton t-shirt, sweat pants and a bright orange visitor sticker interrupts one of the janitors and sets the box on the ground. He opens it, pulling out a silvery stick that reaches from the floor to his stomach. I recognize it instantly, despite the fact that the ones I normally use are solid metal with a retractable Taser on the end.

By now, other kids in my class have taken notice.

"Mrs. Arden," Isabel Becker calls from within the noxious cloud of perfume she always wears, "What are they doing?"

Mrs. Arden looks startled at being interrupted from her lengthy explanation of the intricacies of dodgeball, but she turns around to look.

"Oh, that!" she responds cheerfully, "The gym department won a big grant from the state for our excellent performance on the fitness testing, and we decided to add some exciting skills to the curriculum. Those long sticks are called 'bow-staffs,' and they are ancient Chinese weapons."

"Oh goody. Fitness testing," Josh mutters.

"Can't I just fail gym instead?" I whisper back.

"The sophomores and juniors will get the opportunity to be taught by a real expert. It's so interesting," Mrs. Arden continues.

"Mrs. Arden? Can we do that instead?" Isabel calls again. A couple other kids nod and agree with her. Babs snorts.

"It could be funny," she whispers, "Or maybe you can ask if they'll let you fight him. That guy doesn't look like he expects to actually do anything. You should show him up."

We laugh together, and I whisper, "Can you imagine what Bruce would say if the school called about my miraculous talent with a Bo staff?"

"I dare you."

"What? No."

"Double-dog dare you."

"Babs!"

"Triple-dog dare you and I'll buy you a cookie."

"I can get my own cookies, thank you very much."

"What are we daring him to do?" Josh pokes his head in.

"Nothing," I say.

"Challenge the guy to an epic Bo staff battle," Babs whispers. Josh grins from ear to ear.

"Do it!"

"No!"

"Look, he's only twice your size. Easy takedown," Josh says.

I roll me eyes. Josh is kidding but he doesn't know he's right. Unless this guy is also a superhero in disguise, I can kick his ass.

"Come on!"

"Why not?"

"First of all, I don't want to. Second, I'm actually a trained professional with a staff. There's not an actual accreditation board, but Bruce made sure I'd be able to pass if there was. I just don't need the whole school to know about it."

"The Bo staff accreditation board?" Josh raises an eyebrow.

"And third," I continue like I didn't hear him, "The author has written a lot of fight scenes lately and she'd probably just start crying if she had to write another because I decided to challenge some random guy to a fight."

"It's high school! Nobody cares what you do here!" Babs retorts.

"Nobody?"

"Wait, wait, can we go back to the part about the author and fight scenes?" Josh asks.

"What about it?" I ask.

"What author?"

"The author," Babs says in a "no-duh" kind of voice.

"Yeah, of what?"

"The story of our lives," I shrug, "I don't know Josh, I was making a weird, meta, fourth-wall break kind of joke. I thought it'd be funny. It didn't actually mean anything."

"I like that you assume the author of your own personal story is a woman," Babs grins.

"At least you thought it was kind of funny."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because we're playing dodgeball anyway."

"You doubt me," Babs sticks her tongue out at me before raising her hand. Mrs. Arden is trying her best to get the dodgeball game started, while the rest of my class exercises the sheer apathy that only a group of sleep-deprived teenagers sentenced to gym class can manage.

"Yes, Ms. Gordon?"

"How often are we going to have the opportunity to watch a real expert? We can play dodgeball any time we want to. This could be a really valuable experience for us in the long run," her voice drips with false enthusiasm, but Mrs. Arden can't argue with her logic, and she's had enough of trying to wrangle teenagers. She huffs, her blonde curls bouncing around her head.

"Fine. I'll go talk to him and see if we can arrange something."

Babs and Josh high-five, happy to avoid playing the humiliating and boring game of dodgeball. Most of the other kids in the class seem genuinely interested, even some of the girls who generally hate any form of physical activity. A few of the jocks look annoyed, but they quickly get back to shoving each other and making stupid jokes.

Personally, I don't care what we do. Gym class is such huge waste of time, and I have so much stuff to do today that I would give anything to have a free period. I'm already losing two hours this afternoon because the third graders have an orchestra concert tonight and I promised Tim I would go see him. I was supposed to train with the Team this afternoon, but I'm sure Bruce will let me stay home and study for my biology test instead. Dr. Philips loves to include really obscure questions on his tests, so I have to know all the material that he ever mentioned this week in order to get an A.

It's going to be another long week.

"Alright guys. So, Mrs. Arden here told me that you wanted to learn a little bit about the Bo staff, so I'm going to give you guys a little demonstration. Does anyone have anything they want to know before I do that?"

"Do it!" Babs hisses. I roll my eyes.

My cell phone buzzes and I look down. Ms. Hayne is in the middle of her PowerPoint about the early Renaissance, so she won't notice.

It's a text from Wally.

'Why did the turkey cross the road?'

Classic Wally with the godawful jokes. I snort and type back, '…'

It takes a few seconds for my phone to buzz again. Wally sent me a picture of a turkey standing in the middle of the road in front of his mom's car.

'He didn't. He's an asshole and just stood in front of the car for five minutes.'

I have to put a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. I can just picture Wally in the passenger seat, vibrating impatiently for the bird to move so that he can get somewhere ten times slower than it would have taken him to run.

'Why are you coming to school at 10:30?'

'Doctor's appointment'

'Lucky. B never lets me miss school for an appointment.'

'What do you expect from him?'

'That he'd fight the turkey with his bare hands if he thought it would help me get to school on time.'

'pft. Thanks for that mental image.'

' no problem ;)

'You coming to MJ today?'

MJ is the very-not-at-all subtle code for Mount Justice.

'Can't. Bio test tomorrow :( '

'Dude… that's the third one you've missed this month.'

'I know. But you know how B is. Plus, Tim has a concert tonight and we're all going.'

'Tell him good luck!'

Wayne Manor

The Bo staff twirls around my hand, the familiar weight settling in my palm when I stop it. I spin, whirling the staff around my head and slamming it into the ground. I step back, spinning the staff around my shoulders and moving my head around so that it can continue twirling. I snatch it up in one hand and swing it at my shoulder height before crouching and swinging it low enough to scrape over the ground. Twirling the staff up my arm, I straighten and flick my wrist out so it's spinning over my head. I take two steps forwards and slam the staff into the ground before whirling and striking the air.

There's nothing like a quick workout to recover from four hours of studying biology. A breeze blows through the yard and I shiver. A sweater might have been a good idea in retrospect, but once I get moving, I'll warm up.

"Hey Goldie, think fast!"

Even without Jason's shout, I see the apple hurtling towards my head. Throwing the Bo staff in the air, I spin and hold out my hand. The small but dense apple smacks against my palm with a satisfying "smack," I hold out the other hand and catch the Bo staff as it drops.

"Thought you looked hungry," Jason smirks while trying to look cool. He's wearing his favorite leather jacket but Cassie is sitting on his shoulders and patting his head like a drum, which kind of ruins whatever tough-guy image he was going for.

"That's very ciderate of you, Jay."

"Ugh, speak English. Your stupid made-up words don't make sense."

"Of course they do. You're just not smart enough to appreciate it," I take a big bite of the apple and grin mockingly. Cassie lets out a peal of laughter as Jason sticks his tongue out at me. She sticks her own tongue out and spits, trying to blow a raspberry. Jason cringes as spit lands on his face and he rubs at it with his hands.

"Cassie, your tongue is supposed to stay in your mouth," I tease, dropping the Bo staff near a tree-stump and moving closer to the two of them.

"Or what?" she giggles with her tongue still hanging out. Jason and I exchange glances.

"Or… Killer Croc is going to bite it off!" I shout, clapping my hands together in front of her face. She shrieks and slams her heels into Jason's chest.

"Noo!" she cries and Jason lunges towards me.

"I'll save you, Cassie!" He shouts, tackling me to the ground. Somehow, the three of us end up on the ground in a pile. Cassie manages to detangle herself, but Jason is flailing around on the ground while trying to put me in a chokehold. Careful not to let the apple touch the ground, I grab Jason's arm, readjust my legs and flip him over. My elbow presses against his neck, not hard enough to hurt, but he struggles anyway. I take a bite of my apple and smirk.

"Looks like Killer Croc won this round," I joke. Suddenly, something whacks against the back of my head, and Jason uses the opportunity to throw me off.

"I save Jay!" Cassie crows, my Bo staff clenched in her tiny hands. It's almost twice as long as she is, but she wields it proudly. Until the winds pulls it sharply to the side and she almost falls over. Jason scoops her up so that she's closer to my height, placing a hand on the Bo staff to help steady it.

"Me and Cassie against you! You're going down, Goldie!" Jason taunts. I roll my eyes but get into a fighting stance anyways.

Jason charges forwards while Cassie shrieks with laughter. I watch the Bo staff swing towards my head and I wait. When it's two inches away, I block with my right arm, grab the staff, twist and pull it away from my siblings. I step back, twirling the staff around my hand in a figure-eight.

"Why do you call me that, anyway? Is it like Goldie-Locks?" I ask while Jason pouts, "Because I'm not sure if you knew this, but my hair isn't exactly gold."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Jason sneers.

"Uh, yeah, that's why I asked."

Cassie tugs on his ear and whispers something to him. He looks down at her.

"You really think we should tell him?"

Cassie nods emphatically. Jason sighs, stepping forwards conspiratorially.

"Alright, Goldie, the truth is... YOU'RE IT!"

Cassie whacks me hard in the forehead with her hand and then Jason sprints away. So much for studying biology.

By the time Bruce comes outside, tag has devolved into helping Cassie build a dirt castle in the flower beds. It's like a sand castle except it's made of dirt, falls apart almost immediately, and makes Cassie laugh like a maniac every time it does. Stephanie is riding on his back, wearing her martial arts uniform and a huge grin. Looks like Bruce picked her up from karate today.

"It looks like you're all having fun, but you all need to get cleaned up. We're leaving in half-an hour for Tim's concert."

"Daddy! I save Jay!" Cassie exclaims proudly. Bruce smiles at her.

"That's because you're incredible."

Cassie beams. Bruce's smile gets even wider. Jason takes a picture on his phone.

"For blackmail," he whispers to me, "In case we need proof that the goddamn Batman smiled once."

"Language, Jason," Bruce reprimands, hoisting Cassie onto his shoulders. Jason smirks with absolutely no sign of remorse.

"You know, they say he's more bat than man at this point," I nudge Jason with my elbow, "That he's nocturnal, hears like a bat, and he even hangs upside down from a stalactite when he sleeps."

"Very funny, Dick," Bruce shakes his head.

"Hey, I told you about that cop, right? Officer Collins?"

"Who's that?" Stephanie chirps.

"He's a police officer. The one who followed me around for four months because he wanted to know if Batman was really a human-bat hybrid mutant."

"Hmm," Bruce looks vaguely amused, "I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't," I assure him, "He kept his suspicions under pretty close wraps."

I shake my head at Steph and mouth, 'No he didn't.'

Steph giggles.

"If you're done making jokes at my expense, go take a shower," Bruce grins, "I don't even want to imagine the PTA call I'll get if I let you show up to the concert wearing all the dirt in the yard."

He gets four innocent smiles in response to that.

Chapter Text

Artemis Crock

Mount Justice

Saturday, October 6th, 2012

Artemis started when the holographic display lit up the floor.

"Alright. Now, everyone, pay attention. We have a lot to cover today and I only have a minute to do it," Black Canary instructed from the middle of the training floor.

"Why? Is there a supervillain summit that you have to break up? A giant robot attacking the city? A radioactive lizard monster from Japan that wants our donuts?" Wally asked. He and Robin shared a grin at the thought.

"No," Black Canary responded, "I was referring to your relatively short attention spans."

Robin, Wally and Kaldur laughed at her response, and Artemis suddenly got the feeling she was missing an inside joke. But the usual feeling of jealousy was missing today. After the last mission, finding out Kaldur knew that there was a mole and having the team almost fall apart from it, Artemis was more than happy to miss out on a few jokes. Anything was better than being at each other's throats and it was obvious everyone else felt the same way.

As Canary began explaining the day's exercises, Artemis' mind kept wandering. She trusted Kaldur. If he hadn't told them the truth because he thought it would just make them paranoid, then the lie was justified. He was right to think it would happen, because it did.

As much as it stung to know that Kaldur had been suspicious of her, she got it. Between Jade, her dad and her mom's old life, Artemis should've been on the other side. Well screw that. Being one of the good guys was so much better. She worked for the freaking Justice League! She'd met Superman, fought giant tigers, traveled across the world, and found a group of friends like she'd never had before.

Most of the time, being a superhero was really fun.

"Artemis, you're with Superboy. Remember what we talked about with your reliance on aggression."

Ugh. As long as that didn't happen.

She walked onto the floor anyways and settled into a fighting stance. Across from her, Conner did the same.

"Want to try number three?" Conner asked.

"Sure," Artemis answered, stretching her neck and shoulders in preparation for the sparring routine.

They moved together.

Superboy lunged out first with a punch at chest height. Artemis slid to the side and followed up with a spinning hook kick. Superboy caught her leg with his elbow and put his hand just above her knee. She jumped as he used the hold to throw her backwards, giving her the momentum to roll when she hit the ground. She popped back up to her feet and they approached each other.

Again, they moved at the same time. Superboy punched and she blocked it with her forearm, redirecting the momentum. With the opening, she swung her elbow across his face and spun with the movement, finishing with a back-kick to his chest. Superboy stumbled backwards, but got his arms up in time to block Artemis' next strike. He kicked out and she jumped over his leg, but his swing caught her across the chest. She managed to keep her balance but now Superboy had the advantage.

He jumped into the air, reaching fifteen feet before plummeting back down. Artemis dove out of the way, ending up behind him. She kicked at the back of his knee and dropped him onto one leg. Superboy reared back as she kicked again, hitting her foot with enough force to knock her over. They jumped up at the same time and the fight continued.

They traded blows. Artemis got some good hits in, but the more she blocked, the more her arms hurt. And Superboy had started bracing against her kicks, so she couldn't get a strong enough attack in. She lunged forwards, aiming a punch at his midsection. He was ready.

The next thing Artemis knew, his foot hooked around her ankle and her momentum— plus a strong push— hurled her to the ground.

"Fail. Artemis, B-07," the computer announced.

"Wow. What a shocker," she muttered in response to the computer, accepting his outstretched hand to be pulled back onto her feet. Conner shrugged, doing his best not to look smug and failing pretty badly.

"You didn't do that badly."

"Thanks, Conner. That really means a lot," she teased, rolling her eyes. He grinned back at her. Black Canary pulled up the hologram depicting their sparring match.

"Good work, both of you. Conner's right, Artemis. You did a very good job," she turned to the rest of the team, "Now can anyone tell me where Artemis went wrong?"

Robin's hand shot into the air, "She had to spar with Superboy!"

Kid Flash snickered. Black Canary beat her to a response.

"Very funny. You of all people should know how important it is to train against opponents that are much stronger than you, Robin. In a real battle, the experience could give you the slightest advantage to defeat or stall a stronger opponent until help can arrive."

"You sound like Batman," Robin teased.

"Well, Batman is right," she crossed her arms and grinned, "Now can you actually answer the question please?"

"She let him get too many hits in. She should have taken advantage of the fact that Superboy always waits before he throws a punch to get out of the way."

"I don't!" Superboy retorted, crossing his arms angrily.

"Except you do," Robin raised a finger towards the hologram, swiping backwards to rewind the video a few seconds, "Right here. You pull back your fist here, but it's another half second before you actually punch. That's enough time for Artemis to duck, move back or land a blow like she did right there. You're still telegraphing everything."

Artemis couldn't help but smile when the recording shows her spinning under Superboy's arm and landing a kick on his solar-plexus.

"Good," Canary said, turning to the team again, "Learning to read your opponent's movements is something I want you all to work on. If you can see what the enemy wants to do, you can react and counter it."

Kid Flash raises his hand in the air, "So, and this is purely theoretical, if someone tries to go against a much stronger opponent, like Rob facing off against Superman, would there be anything that he could do or would he basically just be bird food? Ow!"

Robin glowered after slapping his friend on the arm, "I know how to fight against someone stronger than me. I spar with Batman every day."

"So you think you could take on Superman?"

"I'd do better against him than you could. At least I'm not in danger of tripping myself."

"Dude! I could totally last longer than you in a fight. And I would definitely beat her time against Superboy."

He jerked a finger towards Artemis and she snapped, "Oh yeah, Kid Mouth? Prove it!"

"Fine!" Kid Flash retorted before turning to Superboy, "Don't feel too bad about losing to me."

Superboy rolled his eyes and exchanged a look with Aqualad before moving back onto the mat.

"Just try not to get hurt too badly," Superboy smirked, "Hey Canary, can we make this a little more fun?"

"I don't see why not," their trainer responded, typing into the holographic console. Sections of the floor randomly began to rise and fall, creating a landscape of crevices and hills and general obstacles to navigate.

"This will be more fun," Kid Flash joked, "Although this match is as good as over."

He was right. Kid Flash had the advantage at first, getting several hits in rapid succession, but he couldn't knock Superboy out of his stance. He zipped back and forth, using the landscape to hit different spots. He did well until Superboy figured out which sections of floor would move, and then it was a different match entirely. He dodged some hits and let some of the others make contact, but it was clear he had a plan. Artemis and Miss Martian giggled when Superboy maneuvered Kid Flash into stepping on an ascending tile and he tripped face-first, definitively ending the match.

The computer announced, "Fail. Kid Flash, B-03."

"Good try," Superboy offered, helping Kid Flash pull his foot out from between a section of uneven tiles.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll beat you next time," he retorted humorously. Robin snickered and Artemis laughed with him.

"Alright, guys. Let's hear it," Black Canary announced.

"Kid Flash was faster and landed more hits, but they didn't do enough to throw Superboy off balance. Superboy also had an easier time navigating the field. The terrain put Kid Flash at a big disadvantage," Artemis said.

"It was unfair to change the environment. It gave Superboy a huge advantage," Miss Martian told Black Canary, but Kid Flash shook his head.

"Nah, I should have been paying more attention."

"You can't always control the battleground," Aqualad added.

"Anyway, I want to see Robin beat that time," Kid Flash joked, leaning against Superboy who shook his head in exasperation but let him do it.

"What, ninety seconds? That's not even hard," Robin retorted. Artemis rolled her eyes at the boys, but Robin seemed serious.

Was he actually going to try it? Sparring practice was one thing, but that wasn't what they were betting on. Superboy was no pushover (literally) and she had the bruises to prove it. This was a terrible idea.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Black Canary asked doubtfully. Apparently, Canary agreed with Artemis.

"Oh yeah. Besides, I'm smaller and faster than he is. He won't be able to touch me."

The Team exchanged worried and dubious glances, but the thirteen-year-old refused to budge. Miss Martian bit her lip. Robin met her gaze and nodded, giving her an easy smile.

"Alright," Black Canary agreed hesitantly, resetting the training floor to its normal conditions. They waited for the training pad to return to normal before walking out. Conner settled into a fighting stance, but Robin just nodded his head.

"Whenever you're ready," he called.

Canary nodded, and the fight started. Conner threw the first punch, not surprised when Robin side-stepped. He swung again, holding back the majority of his strength and again, Robin moved away. They both froze for a few seconds, watching each other. Then Robin moved forwards and Superboy let a fist fly right towards Robin's face. The Boy Wonder moved like lighting, leaping off the ground and flipping. Hands pressed down on Superboy's outstretched arm and then Robin was behind him. A hard kick slammed into the back of his neck and he stumbled forwards. He blinked, whirling around to face the acrobat. Robin was standing in a fighting stance, a smile on his face.

Robin was enjoying this, Artemis realized. He wasn't worried at all. Superboy seemed to realize the same thing, because he rushed forward at full speed. Robin dodged the next series of blows, dancing away from the punches before they had a chance to get near him.

It was incredible. Artemis couldn't count the number of times she thought Conner was about to land a devastating hit only to have Robin dance away.

Conner lunged forwards, swinging his fist in a wide arc. Almost too quickly for her to follow, Robin leaped forwards so that he was parallel to the ground, grabbed Superboy's arm like a bar and swung himself forwards. His heavy boots slammed into the side of Superboy's face while his momentum carried him in a flip around the Kryptonian's arm. Superboy was pulled backwards by the full weight of his opponent, his head going to one side while his arm was dragged the other way and his entire body twisted with Robin's. Superboy landed hard on his stomach with a crash. Robin landed on Superboy's back, still holding his arm in a tight lock. The cave fell silent. Artemis' jaw dropped and she blinked dumbly, trying to process what she had just seen. M'gann and Kaldur gasped in unison. Wally let out a choked, "Dude!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Artemis saw Black Canary's hand fly up to cover her mouth in shock.

Robin just took down Superboy. A thirteen-year-old with no superpowers beat a Kryptonian. Behind her, she could almost feel Kaldur and Wally's surprise, and no small feeling of awe. Robin released the arm and patted Conner on the back. Then he pushed himself back onto his feet and reached down to his teammate, who was gingerly turning himself over.

"It's like I said, Conner," Robin said, holding out a hand to help Superboy up, "Taking down bigger guys is part of the gig."

Superboy grinned good-naturedly and accepted the hand.

"I didn't think you meant me," he muttered and Robin cackled.

"Hey, live and learn."

Kid Flash sped over.

"Dude! That was awesome!"

"Yes, it was," Canary added, putting a hand on her hip, "It looks like you've been holding out on us, Robin."

"You have definitely earned your title, Boy Wonder," Kaldur complimented and Robin blushed.

"Can anybody tell me something that Superboy did wrong?" Black Canary asked the team.

"He failed to adjust to his opponent's strategy," Kaldur said, looking at Superboy apologetically.

"Partially correct," their teacher responded, "Superboy did recognize that certain attack patterns were not working, and he adjusted for that. However, Robin was fighting defensively and patiently. He knew that a single hit could end the match, so he based his strategy on not getting hit. Superboy should have recognized his advantage and fully utilized it. That being said, both of you had excellent form, and I can see a lot of improvement."

Dick Grayson

Wayne Manor

The doorbell rings and Alfred nods appreciatively at their punctuality.

"I'll get it!" Steph and Timmy call at the same time before sprinting out of the room at the same time, trying to beat the other in their race. Cassie waddles after them with the considerable speed of a five-year-old ninja.

I hear them argue all the way to the front door about who gets to open it and I can't stifle the laugh. I set down the last fork as Alfred places a pot on the table with a proper flourish. The smell of chicken and herbs fills the dining room and my mouths waters. My stomach lets out a loud rumble. Jason must have been even hungrier because he's risking Alfred's wrath by scrounging through the cabinets, just out of the kitchen's line of sight.

He digs into a box of crackers and the temptation grows. Alfred wouldn't notice if I just had one, would he?

Alfred straightens, dusting imaginary dirt off his hands.

"Now, if Master Jason would kindly remove himself from the pantry, I believe we are all set."

Jason freezes like a deer in the headlights and I resist the urge to cackle again. It's not about being a mature older brother, it's that making fun of him will lead to him tackling me and then we'll both lose dessert even if it wasn't my fault. When Alfred makes chocolate cake, you don't take chances like that.

"It smells amazing, Alfred!" Uncle Clark compliments as he walks into the dining room with a bowl of salad and three of my siblings hanging off his shoulders and arms.

"I hope we're not late," Aunt Diana adds, holding out a bouquet of flowers. Sheepishly, the Amazonian princess admits, "I wasn't sure what to bring. After last time, I thought it was safer not to bring food."

"No bad bwownies!" Cassie cheers from her perch on Clark's right shoulder.

"I liked them!" Stephanie is quick to defend her idol, hanging upside down with her arms and legs wrapped around his left arm.

"You like everything Auntie Diana makes, Steph. You'd eat haggis if she brought it," Timmy points out matter-of-factly, latched onto the Kryptonian's back.

"What's haggis?" Steph asks, scratching at her blonde hair that hangs freely off her head.

"It's a Scottish delicacy made of a sheep's heart, liver and lungs that's cooked in the lining of a stomach," Clark tells her, trying not to smile when she immediately begins to gag dramatically. He catches my eye and winks. I smile back, but guilt bubbles in my chest. Conner can't get even a minute of Superman's attention, while he's here having dinner with my family. Clark has to at least acknowledge the fact the Conner exists. He might be a clone, but he's a hero and he's my friend.

Alfred must have relieved her of the flowers, because Aunt Diana comes over and gives me a hug. I hug her back. Her grip is strong but it feels really nice. In a lot of ways, she's the closest thing I've had to a mom since I was eight. It's always kind of strange to be around Superman and Wonder Woman. The first time I met them was as Clark Kent and Diana Prince less than a month after I came to Wayne Manor. They were Aunt Diana and Uncle Clark from the beginning. Now, as a (sort of) member of the Justice League, they're older heroes to respect and look up to. When I'm Robin, I can't bug my Uncle Clark to take me to a baseball game over the weekend or beg Aunt Diana to let me ride in her invisible jet. None of my teammates have the same kind of relationship with them. Not even Kaldur, Wally or Roy.

I was the first sidekick; that came with a few perks. But Conner would be so jealous, and everyone else would probably be jealous too if they knew.

"Dinah tells me you've been improving a lot," Diana confides. My heart pounds, but I shrug nonchalantly.

"She's a good teacher, I'm a quick study, it's fun to make everyone else look bad. Take your pick," I toss out a few excuses. It sounds like she's just paying me a complement, but there's also a chance she's trying to figure out where those skills are coming from. She rolls her eyes at my wide-eyed grin, but she doesn't look suspicious.

"I see."

My stomach turns and I take that second to call, "Jay! Come say hi."

Jason glances at the table longingly but shuffles over.

"Hi."

"Sorry about him. He hasn't eaten in two minutes."

"So his empty stomach prevents me from getting a decent greeting?" she teases. Jason shrugs. After a second, he darts in for a quick hug, then pulls back like it never happened. God forbid he ruins his cool guy image.

"Master Bruce should be joining us shortly. In the meantime, if you would all release Mister Kent's limbs, I'm sure he would be most appreciative."

"Awww!" Timmy complains.

"Do we have to?" Steph whines.

"It's alright, guys. I'll take you for a ride after dinner, if it's okay with Alfred," Clark offers. Immediately, four pairs of eyes point at him with laser like focus.

"I will defer to Master Bruce."

"Defer what to me?" Bruce asks, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket.

"If Uncle Clark can give us a ride after dinner!" Steph cuts in before Alfred can answer.

"Do you want him to?" Bruce asks her seriously and she nods excitedly, her head bobbing up and down.

Bruce turns to Clark with an exasperated eye roll.

"You're trying to steal them from me, aren't you?"

"He would never," Diana laughs, flipping her hand in front of Clark's face. She puts her arm around Bruce's shoulders, adding, "Because I'm going to steal them first."

"Alright, alright, enough banter it's food time!" Jason interrupts, pounding his fists into the table.

"Foo!" Cassie squeals, slamming her hands into the table in imitation. Timmy, Steph and I all look at Bruce imploringly.

Bruce shrugs, "It looks like we've been overruled."

It takes some maneuvering, but finally everyone is sitting down, tearing ravenously into the salad and fresh bread.

"How's school going?" Clark asks, "Dick, you just started high school, right?"

"Yup. It's fine."

"You like your classes?"

"Eh."

"I like my classes!" Timmy exclaims.

"You only have one class, Timbo," Jason rolls his eyes.

"Jason…" Bruce says. Jason huffs.

"Sorry, Tim."

"Miss Garra is the best! She makes us cookies every Friday 'cause we have an oven in the room!"

"It's not fair!" Steph whines, "My class never gets any cookies but our classroom is across the hall so every Friday we have to smell them but we don't get any!"

"That is unfair. If one class gets cookies, every class should get some kind of treat," Clark agrees.

"Why does your classroom have an oven?" Diana asks, brow lowered in confusion.

"I dunno," Timmy shrugs.

"Our school used to be a middle school," Steph explains, "But then it got turned into an elementary school and everything got changed around. One of the upstairs bathrooms used to have a shower."

"Oh yeah, I remember that shower!" Jason grins through a mouthful of lettuce and cucumbers, "Mikey and I dared Ally to turn the water on and she flooded the hallway!"

"And then they had an assembly for the whole school to yell at us for being irresponsible," I add, "Didn't they get her on video?"

"Yup! They called her to the principal's office over the loudspeaker. You should have seen her, it was awesome. Mr. Rabil was yelling at her and trying to get her to confess and she started crying that it was an accident and she couldn't figure out how to turn it off and they let her off the hook completely. It was hilarious!"

He looks up to see Bruce, Aunt Diana and Uncle Clark giving him matching expression, with one eyebrow raised in a 'you want to try that again?' look. I decide to get him off the hook, mainly because when it happened, their stunt plus the mandatory assembly got me an extra weekend to study for a math test. That story is part of Gotham Primary Academy's lore. Jason is lucky Bruce doesn't know that the water ended up flooding the downstairs music room and some kids in my year brought down rubber ducks and had duck races.

Another reason to help him out; I won nine dollars in one of the races.

"Didn't Ally transfer to theater school?" I ask.

"No, she got cast as the stand-in for Annie on Broadway," Jason beams, "She says the principal's office was her big debut."

That gets a laugh, and the tension is gone. But judging from the look in Bruce's eye, the statute of limitations for that event is nowhere near expired. For now, though, Uncle Clark is happy to answer Tim's sudden peppering of questions about the tsunami he stopped over Sri Lanka. Alfred has barely taken the lid off the chicken when my phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out surreptitiously and check it under the table. It's a short text with just the number '8.' And it's from Slade.

Shit.

I'm doomed. Oh, this is a disaster, heavy on the dis. My heart skips a beat and I stuff the phone back into my pocket.

"Um… can I be excused for a second?" I ask.

After a moment of suspicious silence, Bruce nods slowly. I push my chair back and make my way to the bathroom, trying not to break into a run. This is bad. I totally forgot that training with Slade was tonight. With Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman- not to mention Alfred- here's no way I can go without being caught. With shaking fingers, I type, "Aunt and Uncle here. Can we reschedule?"

The next few minutes pass at a snail's pace. My heart pounds and my feet retrace their steps across the tile floor and back. I'm such an idiot. How could I have forgotten? I'm about to pull my hair out when the phone finally buzzes again.

"Friday at 7. 4 hours."

I exhale, letting all the stale air out of my lungs. Catastrophe avoided. I breathe slowly, trying to get my heart rate back down to a normal beat. I run my fingers through my hair to smooth it down which normally helps me calm down. When I go back to the table, everyone is going to want to know what happened. With his super-hearing, Uncle Clark definitely knows my cellphone went off. He'll have told Bruce— who hates cellphones at the table— and then Bruce will want to know what happened.

What am I going to tell them?

Sorry about that, guys, but I had to reschedule my secret mercenary training because I forgot you two were coming over and now there's no way I can sneak out.

Yeah, that would go over well. Oh god, what am I going to tell them? My mind is racing but I can't come up with a decent excuse. I glance down at my phone, scrolling through my messages when Artemis' name catches my eye. I click on it, opening our text conversation. The last time she texted me, she wanted help with her calculus homework. Somehow, I misread it and panicked because I thought "a part five" was "apartment fire," I figured it out pretty quickly, but it's perfect for right now. I walk in front of the mirror and put on my best sheepish face. I take a deep breath, open the bathroom door and make my way down the hall back to the dining room. When I enter, the noise cuts out and everyone looks at me.

"Is everything okay?" Bruce asks, his concern obvious.

I scratch the back of my neck and laugh in embarrassment.

"Yeah, false alarm actually. I misread Arty's text and… well… the good news is that her apartment isn't actually on fire. Sorry about that."

"It happens to the best of us," Uncle Clark says diplomatically, "You wouldn't believe some of the Freudian slips you hear when you're interviewing someone. There was one time with Steven Hawking—"

"Who do Amazons get married to?" Steph asks suddenly, interrupting Clark mid-sentence. He stops dead and blinks at her. Aunt Diana coughs into her hand, but it's the worst pretending-not-to-laugh cough I've ever heard. The knot in my stomach fades as any remaining suspicion disappears. Steph couldn't have come up with a better distraction if she'd been trying.

"Um, I don't…" Uncle Clark tries to answer.

"I thought they married each other," Timmy says, frowning in confusion. Cassie laughs and claps her hands together.

"Mawwied mawwied!"

"Some of them do," Aunt Diana says, mimicking Uncle Clark's diplomatic tone while fighting to keep her smile down, "Although many Amazons don't get married at all. However, my mother's decision to loosen the borders may change that."

"I want to marry an Amazon!" Tim declares.

Jason and I snort.

"Whoever you choose to marry will be very lucky," Aunt Diana smiles adoringly.

"I wanna marry an Amazon too!" Steph announces. Uncle Clark coughs into his drink. Jason and I snort even harder.

"Nobody is marrying anybody for quite some time," Alfred intervenes smoothly, "Given that, I believe the particulars can be saved for another day. Might I suggest that in the meantime, you all adjourn to the living room while I set up dessert?"

"Or…" Aunt Diana suggests in a sing-song voice, "I did bring the invisible jet."

"Can we?!"

"So long as you bring them all back," Bruce warns with a lightness that means he's kidding. Aunt Diana winks and Jason, Tim and Steph charge out of the dining room.

"You're not going with them?" Bruce asks.

I shake my head, "I'm kind of maxed out on flying things right now."

There's only so long I want to be cooped up on a ship, and between the cross-country and international flights on the bioship, I'm good. Plus, the Invisible Jet doesn't have that many seats and it gets really cramped fast. Bruce picks up Cassie from her high chair and Uncle Clark and I follow them to the main living room. Cassie and I play patty-cake on the couch while Bruce and Clark settle into armchairs, discussing some article Lois wrote. It's not long before Cassie starts yawning and her eyes start drooping. She crawls onto my lap and curls up, playing with the strings of my sweatshirt with tiny fingers.

"Uh… Bruce? A little help here?" I ask a few minutes later, when she's totally asleep and my legs are going numb. Bruce looks over and apparently the sight of Cassie sleeping on me is one of those special moments that puts a real, tender smile on his face.

Bruce picks Cassie up gently, and she stirs long enough to look up at him blearily, "Bedtime, princess."

She nods once and her head falls forwards against his chest. Uncle Clark smiles as they leave the room, then he goes back to his magazine. I frown.

I have to say something to him. It's the perfect time. But how do I say it?

I cross my arms and lean forward in my seat. Uncle Clark fidgets with his glasses before looking up from the magazine, grinning at me in his classic, "I'm a mild-mannered reporter don't worry about me" look. I let out a huff.

"You're being an asshole," I say bluntly.

Uncle Clark frowns, his lips pinching together into a thin line. He doesn't respond.

"What do you have against him? Sure, I get it! It sucks that Cadmus stole your DNA and made a clone of you without your consent. That's really high on the list of things that aren't okay. But don't take it out on Conner! He didn't have any more say in this than you did."

"I know that you're trying to help, but you really don't understand the situation."

"So, explain it to me."

"Dick, please, not now."

"Why not now?! You're just going to keep ignoring him if nobody says anything!"

"Dick…"

"No! Conner is my friend and he deserves better! He's smart and funny and a hard worker and he just wants to get to know you! But you don't know any of that because you've never even bothered to try!"

A weird look crosses his face. It's a mix of frustration and hesitancy but at the end, there's a narrowing in his eyes that means he's found a lead that whoever he's interviewing let something slip that they didn't mean to.

"Fine," he says, leaning forwards, suddenly all-business, "I will sit down with Conner and try to get to know him. If..."

I roll my eyes. Of course he wants something.

"If… you tell me who texted you during dinner."

Oh shit.

"W… what are you talking about? I already told you."

"Dick. I can hear your heartbeat. I know what it sounds like when you're lying, and I know what it sounds like when you're on the verge of a panic attack. You want to take a wild guess which of those I've heard tonight?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I deny, painfully aware that my racing heartbeat couldn't make the lie more obvious.

Uncle Clark doesn't say anything. He just looks at me carefully like I'm about to give him the key to cracking a big story.

"If you don't want to tell me, I won't make you. But I don't want to hear another word about the clone. Alright?"

"No!" anger wins out, "Superboy deserves better than that! Why is it so hard for you to just give him a chance?!"

Uncle Clark takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"Dick, I know he's your friend, but there are things I can't explain to you. Things I'm not prepared to deal with, and it wouldn't be fair to either of us for me to pin those things on him."

"Everyone has stuff that they don't want to deal with, but you don't get a choice!"

"You don't understand. You have no idea what it's like to have a role you never asked for to be pushed onto you!"

My heart pounds and blood rushes to my head. I have no idea what it's like?! Try being forced into a secret apprenticeship with a mercenary who makes you lie to everyone you care about.

"I guess you're right," I sneer, standing up, "I'm probably just not ready to understand. Just like I wasn't ready to know about the Watchtower or join the actual Justice League."

"Look, I know you're mad, and you have every right to be, but please… this is really difficult for me."

"Oh sure, I get it. I'll just tell Conner that his existence is hard for you."

Uncle Clark sighs.

"I can't do this with you right now. We can talk about it later, but I really cannot deal with him right now. I know!" he interrupts me before I can launch into another tirade about how Conner isn't just a problem to be dealt with, "He deserves to be treated well, with good mentorship that can give him what he needs. That just can't be me right now, okay?"

I take a breath, side-eyeing the wall next to me, "Fine. We'll talk about it later."

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Louisiana Bayou

Friday, October 12th, 2012

"Switching flight controls to manual," Miss Martian says. Kid Flash takes the controls and there's barely a dip as he adjusts the bioship's flight path. Looks like someone's been putting in his flight hours. I make sure the case on my back is securely fastened and position myself over the hatch. The Louisiana Bayou is down below, the perfect hiding spot for the Injustice League.

"Radio check," Aqualad orders.

We all tap our earpieces and count off. Miss Martian flies to the center of the bioship and lands next to me. I nod at her and hold out my hands. She grabs them tightly, gripping around my wrists just like I showed her.

"Drop zone approaching," Aqualad announces.

"Ready one," I say.

"Ready two," Miss Martian adds, camouflaging herself to be almost transparent.

"Now."

The hatch opens and we free-fall into the bayou. Miss Martian uses her telekinesis before she starts flying, so instead of having my arms wrenched out of my sockets it just feels like catching a trapeze bar. We land softly on the ground, just outside the farthest reaches of the conservatory's security perimeter.

'Mind-link established.' She tells me. The rest of the team can contact us by comms, but for now, it's just the two of us.

I nod.

'There are four maintenance doors we can access from this position without having to cross too many sight lines. We don't know what kinds of security they've set up, but we have to assume there's some kind of magic trigger in addition to cameras and motion sensors.'

'What about Poison Ivy?'

I point at the massive growth protruding from the top of the conservatory like a satellite.

'That plant thing is huge. She's used up most of her energy and focus on it. As long as we don't start hacking, slashing and burning, she's shouldn't notice us.'

'Okay.'

'Move slowly. If you see anything out of the ordinary, use extreme caution. Whatever you do, don't touch those.'

I point at one of the little plant-buds sticking out of the mud. It's a modified version of Ivy's favorite perimeter alarms, and if I'm guessing right, they'll probably release some variation of Joker venom. Just to be safe, I clip my rebreather to the holder on my glove. We set off for the closest maintenance door. Miss Martian flies next to me, staying a few inches above the ground to avoid setting off any traps. I pick my way through the trees slowly, making sure to stay far, far away from the little plant bombs.

'Can you open it from here?'

'Yes.'

'Open it a little, see if any alarms go off. They're probably relying on magic and Ivy's security, but I'd rather ambush them than get ambushed.' I climb into the nearest tree, clinging to a branch about six feet off the ground to make sure I'm clear of any ground traps. Birdarangs in hand, I nod at Miss M. Floating above the ground, she holds out her hand and her eyes start glowing green. The innocuous door opens slowly, just a crack at first and then wide enough to roll a baseball through. We freeze, waiting for blaring alarms or a sudden rush of supervillains looking for a fight.

But there's only silence. After five minutes, I nod at Miss Martian. She looks relieved.

'Ready?' She asks.

"We're about to infiltrate the conservatory," I report over the comms.

"Ten minutes until the flyby," Aqualad answers. That's our distraction to blow the vines without getting torn apart by the entire Injustice League.

"Acknowledged," I turn to Miss Martian.

'Open it.'

The door opens all the way and Miss Martian flies in first. I sprint after her, jumping over a row of alarm buds that form a subtle perimeter around the building. We shut the door behind us, leaving a tiny opening so that it won't lock behind us.

'All the maintenance hallways lead straight to the atrium. There's no surveillance cameras, we just have to worry about Wotan and Ivy's traps. Find the conservatory, do a headcount, then regroup.'

'All members of the Injustice League accounted for.' Miss Martian says, flying back into the hallway where I'm hiding. A root the size of my entire body punctured through the wall and embedded itself deep into the floor, leaving a hole big enough to fit through.

'Then we go to phase two. Make sure to keep track of them, if anyone sneaks up on us, we're in trouble.'

I open the case and take out a smaller box with half the explosives in it. Miss Martian takes it and pulls one of the charges out to inspect it.

'Try and space them out a foot from each other for maximum damage. All you have to do is push the anchor pins into the plant and they'll stick. I'll blow them all remotely once we get Aqualad's signal.'

'Are you sure you've got ground? I can cover the whole thing.'

'We need to be as quick as possible. I'll get the roots, you get everything I can't reach.'

'Be careful.'

'You too.'

Miss Martian camouflages herself again and flies away. I take a deep breath, taking a belt out of the case and clipping it around my waist so that my half of the explosives are in easy reach. Then I climb through the hole left by the gigantic root. Three quarters of the conservatory is taken up by the gargantuan plant growing all the way through the ceiling. It's an enormous mass of green and brown vines, leaves and roots covering every visible surface. There are glowing orange lines that look almost like circuits running all over the surface. It makes for great cover… as long as Ivy never realizes I'm there. If she does, it's an instant death trap.

The Joker is standing in front of the magic display screens, waving his hands around to control the plants wreaking havoc around the world.

"AAAAND ANOTHER ONE GOES KABOOOM!" the Joker sings, cackling as he shatters an apartment building in a spray of broken glass and crumbled bricks. On screen, Captain Marvel flies through the wreckage to try and hold the plants back from destroying the next building, "Whoopsie! Not kaboom, more like, SKOOOSH PEW WHAM-HAHAHAHAHA!"

Black Adam and Wotan scowl furiously at the Joker's back, pausing briefly to lock eyes with each other like they're daring each other to make him shut up. Clearly they're regretting this team up. I duck under a root to pull out the first set of explosives, fighting back a grin. What did they think teaming up with the Joker would look like? They probably haven't realized there's a ninety-eight percent chance he'll try to gas all of them by the time this thing wraps up. Maybe Ivy warned them, but chances are low.

Actually, what's up with that? She hates him. The previous record for their team up was twelve minutes and nine seconds before she tried to murder him. Whose brilliant idea was it to put them both in this league together?

"Who needs Kobra Venom when you've got good old Joker venom?!" the Joker cackles.

"They both work well in concert," Count Vertigo growls.

"Too well, maybe," Ivy says. I hold my breath as she walks past my hiding spot to crouch down over a nearby root, "We're putting considerable strain on my baby."

She does something that makes the whole section of vines around me turn from a sickly brown to a deep green. Ultra-Humanite's heavy footsteps follow, and then little yellow lights turn on across the entire plant. I drop onto my stomach, squeezing into a little crevice beneath the mass of roots where I won't accidentally get zapped by the electrified plant.

'Not good. They're charging it!' I warn Miss Martian. 'Stay clear!'

'Got it.'

Wotan starts chanting and the circuit lines running through the whole plant start glowing and shifting. This is not good. Even with the amount of explosives we brought, we were counting on the structural fatigue to propagate cracks. The Injustice League has the power to keep the plant from ever getting near its limit. If we blow it now, it might be too strong to destroy completely.

"We will keep her healthy and safe, Ivy. But she requires more power."

More power? Shit.

"Skull!"

Suddenly, the whole plant starts glowing with white energy and the little crevice I'm in starts to get hot. Really hot. But only for a few seconds, then the glowing stops. The bad news now is that there's no way we can take the plant out with all of them ready to supercharge it up again. We're going to have to get rid of them somehow. The good news is that Atomic Skull's energy beams aren't actually radiation, so I don't have to worry about getting massive amounts of radiation exposure.

"Much better!" Ivy exclaims. I hear footsteps as she and Ultra-Humanite walk towards Wotan. I've planted charges everywhere I can reach on this side of the plant, so I move on. There's still a lot more ground to cover and explosives to plant.

The Joker keeps up a constant stream of chatter that annoys the rest of the league, and even though it's creepy it's also super helpful to keep track of where they all are. For instance, Ivy is on the far side of the room with Wotan standing nearby to stop her from making another lunge at the Joker. It doesn't stop them from arguing nonstop.

"Poor little heroes. Nothing they do is quite enough. Ain't it grand?! AHAHAHAHAHA?"

"Of course it's grand, they're my babies," Ivy snaps back.

"Yes, well, the planty things are well and good, but the real magic's all in the flick of the 'ol wrist."

"Oh please, you're just waving your hands around while my plants do all the real work!"

"For your information, my hand waving is a delicate symphony of orchestrated chaos! It's a juggling act! A balance beam that—"

"Never stops talking! Ugh, how does Harley stand to be around you without strangling you?"

"Will you both knock it off?!" Black Adam demands.

"Yeesh! Someone woke up on the wrong side of the lair."

"Shut up!" Ivy, Adam and Vertigo yell at the same time.

'Devices planted.' Miss Martian reports.

'One more. And… done.'

'Let's get clear and blow it.'

'Wait.' I stop her. 'They've been charging the plant this whole time, so it's too strong to blow. We have to take some of them out to weaken it. Plus, it won't be over once we destroy the antenna. The less of them we have to fight then, the better.'

'How are we going to do that?'

'I'll set off the perimeter alarms. As long as they know it's me, either Joker or Har—I mean, Ivy will come running.'

'Are you sure?'

'It's a Gotham thing.'

'On your mark.'

'I'll distract her if you make sure she stays quiet. Meet me in the hallway, I have a plan and there's only a medium chance it'll go horribly.'

"Oh Boy Wonder…" Ivy sings, trailing her hand along the wall as she walks down the hall towards my hiding spot, "Come out, come out wherever you are."

"Looking for me?" I drop down from the rafters, landing softly on the ground. I see Ivy's hand twitch and the faint rumbling in the floor means I only have a few seconds before the attack comes.

"There you are! I thought you and Batman were a no-show. It hurt my feelings that us Gothamites mean so little to you these days."

"Don't get too excited, Batman's got other stuff to do today."

"Then he's going to miss all the fun… of watching you die!"

As she speaks, the floor erupts with vines. I flip into the air, dodging the shoots and leaves and landing on a fast-growing vine. I slide down it and jump to the ground before breaking into a sprint. Ivy sends waves of plants after me that I duck under, jump over and slide through.

'Get ready…'

I reach into my belt and pull back my wrist like I'm about to throw it, telegraphing the movements as much as I can. The hardest part is letting the attack happen. The vines grab my arm first and cocoon around me, lifting me off the ground.

"Agh!" I grunt as the vines start squeezing. My voice echoes off the walls and a psychotic cackle answers.

"HAhahahahaHAHA having fun without me Ivy?" the Joker shouts from inside the dome.

"Just a little bird infestation," she calls back, raising her clenched fist, "But don't worry, I'll have it handled in a second."

"Stop playing with your food and finish him already!" Ultra-Humanite growls, "If he's here, there will be others."

I thrash against the vines, gasping for air as the plants just get tighter.

'Robin!' Miss Martian calls.

'Not yet!'

"Oh, I am going to enjoy every second of this. This little vermin has been a thorn in my side for years, and once he's dead I'll use his body to fertilize my baby."

"One… problem…" I wheeze.

"And what's that?" Ultra-Humanite raises his gun to point it at me. Ivy rolls her eyes and the vines tighten, cutting off the last of my air. Or at least it would if Miss Martian wasn't telekinetically holding them back.

'Now!'

I press the button on the trigger in my hand, and the gas pellets planted along the walls explode. The vines holding me drop away and Miss Martian pulls me out of the blast radius of the gas. Eight of the pellets hit Ultra-Humanite dead on and Miss Martian slams her palms onto his temple. The psychic reverb is almost tangible as she commands him to sleep and he drops like a stone. I sprint as soon as I hit the ground, charging Ivy before she can react. A flying sidekick to the chest knocks her back, followed by an elbow strike to her head while the wind is still knocked out of her.

'The problem is, I don't want to be fertilizer.' I think decisively.

Miss Martian lands next to me.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. You?'

She nods. I reach for the special cuffs Batman gave me at Mount Justice.

'Will those work?'

'Bat-cuffs with built-in inhibitor chips. Specifically designed for heavy hitters like Ultra-Humanite.'

'What about Ivy?'

I reach for a vial on the other side of my belt.

'This will temporarily neutralize Ivy's innate resistance to biochemical substances and make sure she takes a nice, long nap.'

'Batman?'

I nod.

"Oh Ivyyyyyy! I'm not hearing any screaming…" The Joker calls from the other room. I type a command into my wrist computer playback.

"I'm going to enjoy every second of this [...] you stupid clown!" the recording is a little choppy, but it's good enough for five seconds of editing.

"Well someone's huffy!" The Joker calls. He pauses, "Get it? Huffy?! AhahhaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That's a good one! HAhahaha!"

The perimeter alarms go off a second later.

"Gentlemen, we have company," Atomic Skull announces. His voice is quiet and smooth and it glides across the walls of the dome, "Count Vertigo, Black Adam, Wotan, show them a proper greeting."

'If I take the Joker, do you have Skull?' I ask.

'He's mine.' Miss Martian nods.

'Don't let him hit you. He has a three second cool-down between blasts. It's short, but he's an open target.'

'Got it. Be careful.'

'You too.'

"Aqualad to Robin and Miss Martian! Enemy has engaged! What's your status?" our comms chirp at the same time.

"In position. Ready on your signal. Be advised, Black Adam, Wotan and Vertigo are coming your way," Miss Martian answers.

"Understood. Are you clear?"

"We're out of detonation range but-"

"No time, we've been hit! Are you clear?" Aqualad interrupts, and there's no time to argue.

"Yes!"

"Blow it."

The Haunt

Sunday, October 14th, 2012

"Are you doing all right?" Slade asks. I look up from the laptop screen, saving my code again for good measure. Hardison's projects are hard enough and I am not restarting this one from scratch.

"Yeah? Why?"

"It was hard to miss the giant plants that attacked the entire planet," he says dryly, "And rumor has it the sidekicks were the ones responsible for putting an end to it. I can't imagine that was an easy fight."

"I'm fine."

"Of course, that's not the only rumor…"

"I'm sure it's not," I mutter under my breath, trying not to roll my eyes. Is he really trying to get me to tell him League secrets?

"During the fight, it seems Robin took on the Joker."

I keep my face as blank as I can.

"And?"

"Apparently Robin said something to him that made the Joker angrier than anyone has even seen him. That's particularly impressive as it can be nearly impossible to genuinely get a rise out of him."

"Really?!" I snort, "That's what you want to know?"

"I admit that I'm very curious."

I fight back the urge to grin and ask, "Have you heard of the Egg Register?"

Judging by the irritated silence, that's a no. I take a second to appreciate that I've finally found something Slade knows absolutely nothing about, which feels amazing.

"There's a church in London that has the world's only official clown registry. When you become an official member of Clowns International, you get your makeup and outfit painted onto an egg and it's like a personal copyright. It's a really big deal in the clown world."

"And the Joker…"

"About three years ago, he tried to join and they put out a statement saying that he will never be recognized as an official clown and he'll never get an egg in the registry. It's his biggest weak spot."

"I see."

"What are the rumors saying?"

"Nothing even remotely correct, as usual. I think the dominant theory was something to do with his hatred of Poison Ivy."

"I mean, that happened too."

"You took on both of them by yourself?"

"No, it was a team effort," I pause, "But even the way it turned out, it feels… too convenient. Not that it was too easy, the fighting was definitely real, but now that there's faces to put to everything that's happened, it doesn't make sense. The Injustice League has a lot of power and they're super dangerous, but how is anyone supposed to believe the Joker came up with a plan to team up with a ton of random villains, including Ivy who hates him, and convinced them all to go along with it? And if it wasn't his plan, then who would've ever included him? When the plan fell apart, he tried to kill all of us, including them, so they'd be right not to include him. It just doesn't make sense that they're behind everything."

Slade doesn't say anything for a while and I wonder if I've said too much. But nothing I said was a secret; the Injustice League's broadcast went out to the entire world, and he already knew I was there.

"What do you want me to say to that?"

"What?"

"I think you already know the answer. You're just waiting for it to be someone else's idea."

Shit. That means I was right, that...

"They're not behind it, are they?"

Slade doesn't break eye contact when he answers, "The Injustice League is not behind everything."

I stare at him. My heart is pounding in my ears.

"Do... do you know who is?"

There's a long pause.

"If I did… that's a line you're not ready to cross."

My stomach drops. Right. He's the bad guy. How do I always forget that?

"Right," I turn around, sitting back down in front of the laptop. I have to get back to my coding anyway. Slade snorts.

"There's no need to get defensive. Besides, as long as we're sharing, I've uncovered some information I believe you'll be very interested in."

"What?"

"T.O. Morrow."

I wait for him to keep explaining but he doesn't. Am I supposed to know who that is?

"What about him?" I prompt after a few seconds, raising an eyebrow, "Who is he?"

Slade shakes his head at me, letting out a huff of air in his version of a laugh.

"Yellowstone National Park."

"What?"

"He's maintained an underground laboratory beneath Old Faithful. My sources tell me that it's been drawing power for the first time in about a decade."

I stare at him.

"I have no idea who that is."

Mount Justice

Friday, October 19th, 2012

"Here's your pineapple juice, Wally!" Captain Marvel flies in, holding the glass in easy-reaching distance for Wally to grab, "I put a tiny umbrella in it, just like you wanted."

Uh-oh. It's like watching Jay meet Roy for the first time before I found them dropping water balloons from the balcony at Ollie's Christmas party. Except Wally doesn't know that Billy's a ten-year-old who just wants to older kids to like him. He's got an actual earnest smile on his face when he asks, "How's the arm doing?"

Wally sighs dramatically, holding his cast in the air like a Shakespearean actor monologuing to a skull.

"I just wish it was better already. But really, it's nothing some nachos can't fix."

"Oh! I can get you nachos!"

Aaaaand Captain Marvel zooms off to go get him food. That's it.

"Wally, knock it off!" I snap, turning around to glare at him.

"What?" Wally defends.

"Hyah!" Artemis grunts, spinning in midair to catch me off guard with a roundhouse kick to the temple. I duck, letting her foot pass over my head before driving my shoulder into her hamstring and pushing her hard on the small of her back. She lands a few feet away and rolls smoothly to her feet.

"He's not your butler!" I tell Wally.

"Says the guy who actually has a butler," Wally grumbles.

"Cave butler," Kaldur and I correct at the same time. M'gann giggles as she drives Kaldur back with a combination of punches and redirections.

"Why don't we have a cave butler?" Conner asks. While we're down a sixth fighter, he gets to be score keeper and that means making up obscure rules for us to follow.

"This isn't a naturally occurring cave," I answer, blocking a punch and jabbing Artemis in the kneecap.

"And the Batcave is?" Artemis raises an eyebrow, redirecting the hit to get me off balance.

"Yup."

"Thirty seconds," Black Canary calls.

"No hands!" Conner announces, updating the score system.

Artemis lunges at me with an elbow strike that spins into a back-kick combo. I dodge and block with my forearms before trying to grab her in a headlock. She kicks the back of my knee and slips out before I can tighten my grip. Kaldur bursts out laughing. Artemis jumps over my sweep kick and turns to look, so I look too. M'gann is grinning at Kaldur, brandishing her giant, shape-shifted crab claws at him.

"What? He said no hands. These are aren't hands," she grins, clicking them together.

"Are powers permitted at this time?" Kaldur asks Conner.

"No."

M'gann redirects her smile at him and I can hear her puppy eyes from across the room.

"Are you sure?"

"Powers are fine," Conner amends.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today," Black Canary steps forward, stopping the timer. She's grinning and shaking her head at us, "Good work guys. We've gotten a lot done this week."

"Yeah, some of us have," Artemis says, glaring pointedly at Wally. He stops slurping his pineapple juice to protest.

"Hey! Arm broken in combat against the Injustice League, here," he waves the cast around and we all roll our eyes. Okay, yes, I do feel bad that he's in pain but also he could be a little less needy. He had Billy bring him an armchair to watch us train! It's not like there's anything wrong with his legs!

Black Canary laughs, shaking her head.

"You know, I've really had fun being your den mother this week."

"You are welcome to hold the position longer, if you desire," Kaldur offers. Conner snorts.

"Not like the League is doing anything about our old one," he mutters. I lock eyes with Kaldur as Black Canary stiffens.

"Recognized: Zatara, A-11."

The zeta beam goes off, interrupting that particular line of thought. When the light fades, Zatara walks to the computer without saying a word. Conner looks at me and I shrug, trying to tell him I don't have a clue what's going on either. But Canary looks like she knows what's happening by the way she goes to stand by Zatara. The rest of us follow, with Artemis dragging Wally off the couch before he can protest. When the light fades for a second time, there's a girl about my age standing in front of us with her arms crossed over her chest. She's wearing a school uniform and looks about as unenthusiastic about being in a room full of superheroes as anyone has ever been. Luckily, Zatara is quick to make introductions.

"Zatanna, this is the team. Team, my daughter, Zatanna."

'Dude, say hi!' Wally practically shouts at me over the mind link.

'What?'

'Do it or I will! Ow!'

'Will you shut up?' Artemis elbows him.

Luckily, M'gann flies in to the rescue.

"Hi! I'm Megan, this is Wally, Artemis, Robin, Kaldur and Conner."

"Welcome to the cave," Kaldur adds.

Zatanna smiles shyly, looking at her dad for direction before nodding at us.

"So, are you joining the team?" Artemis asks, stepping forwards and putting a hand on her hip.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Zatara cuts in quickly, not giving Zatanna any chance to respond, "This is strictly a visit, although I am sorry we missed the training."

"You didn't miss much. Today was a slow day," Wally grins. We all turn to glare at him and he raises his hands quickly, "Kidding, kidding."

Zatara and Canary are getting lost in a discussion about training methods, and Zatanna looks like she wants to curl up into a ball and hide. From the looks of it, she's not going to last long in this business.

'Do the rest of you get the impression we're still on probation with Zatara?' M'gann asks.

'Not just Zatara.' Conner points out. 'I mean, why is Marvel still hanging around?'

'Billy's harmless.' I say.

'And we like having him around,' Wally cuts in. Artemis smacks him.

'You just like having him around because he waits on you hand and foot.'

'And your point is?'

'Wally, stop taking advantage of him!' I snap.

'How am I taking advantage? He's offering!'

'It almost makes one nostalgic for Red Tornado's tenure as our supervisor.' Kaldur says, crossing his arms over his chest.

'At least he trusted us.' I snort. 'Besides, did you see the way Canary reacted when Conner brought him up?'

'The League is just ignoring the fact that he was a traitor! They just let him get away!' Conner growls. 'He nearly got M'g—all of us killed!'

"Are… you guys having a psychic conversation?" Zatanna asks. We all stop yelling and turn to look at her, "Cause, I can't decide if that's cool or really rude."

Conner is the one who looks at Canary and Zatara's stares and makes a decision.

"Fine. We were talking about Tornado. It's been weeks since his attack and the League hasn't told us anything!"

"The League is searching for Tornado, as well as the other androids that invaded the cave, and their creator T.O. Morrow."

Oh.

Oh shit.

Yellowstone.

Old Faithful.

That's what Slade was talking about.

'Robin?' M'gann whispers. I freeze. 'Don't worry, it's a private link. Are you okay?'

'I know where Tornado is.' I tell her, forcing myself to relax so no one else notices our silent conversation. Zatanna is still caught up listening to Canary's explanation.

'What?! How? Where?!'

'T.O. Morrow has an underground lab in Yellowstone National Park, but M'gann, I can't tell them how I know.'

'Slade?'

'He told me last week, after the fight with the Injustice League.'

'You're still working with him?! Robin, you know he's not-'

'Yeah, and we'll deal with that later! Right now, we have more important things!'

"Yeah, and you haven't found anything," Artemis retorts.

"Regardless, Tornado is Justice League Business. The Team is not to pursue this," Canary frowns, her voice sharp. I don't know what my face is doing, but I know there are at least four matching unimpressed expressions staring back at her.

"Ahem, why don't you all take Zatanna on a, uh… tour? Of the… cave…" Zatara suggests awkwardly. I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder to where Zatanna is curled up on top of Wolf. Conner blinks like he just noticed she wasn't standing next to Zatara.

"You're giving a tour? Cool!" Captain Marvel exclaims as he walks in carrying a plate of nachos. Summoned by the smell of food, Wolf bounds over to him and tries to eat the plate out of Billy's hands.

"Actually, I was hoping you could take Wolf outside," Conner steps forward before I can say anything, "He needs the exercise. We'll, uh, join you in a few."

"Uh, sure! Sure, I can do that. C'mon Wolf!"

Wolf follows him, but he's really only following the plate of nachos. Kaldur moves us along to the kitchen quickly, where Zatanna lets out a snort.

"We're not really taking a tour, are we?" when I look over, she's grinning. She's also wearing a purple tank top and a pair of white jeans that she definitely wasn't wearing twenty seconds ago.

"How did you-"

"Magic," she winks at me, and suddenly I see all the way through the 'I'm a bored teenager' act. And I feel really stupid for judging her so fast.

"No, we're not. We're hunting down that robot," Conner says, glancing at Kaldur for confirmation.

"Yes. We are."

"Wow… out loud and everything," the look on her face is flat out diabolical. Okay, I take back everything I thought about her prior to a minute ago.

"What about… new girl?" Artemis asks hesitantly. I make eye contact with Zatanna and we share a grin.

"What, are you worried she's going to tell on us?" I tease Artemis.

"I can't tell," Zatanna picks up where I left off, "Not if you… kidnap me."

Yup, it's confirmed. Zee's a badass.

"Oh, she's gonna fit in great," Artemis says.

Of course, the problem starts when we step onto the bioship and M'gann immediately starts flying due west. Almost like she knows exactly where our target is. Which she CAN'T KNOW!

'Where are we going?' I ask over the mind link.

'Yellowstone. Isn't that where you said?'

'M'gann, how do we explain to the rest of the team how we knew where to go?'

The bioship dips a tiny bit and I fight back a curse.

'Then what do we do?'

I get an idea suddenly.

"Batman and the League have been searching for weeks and haven't found anything. And they're been searching for Tornado and Morrow in every logical location. If we're gonna do better, we need an illogical solution," I turn around to look at Wally, "A truly dumb idea."

Wally pouts and looks at the rest of our teammates, and sure enough we're all staring at him. Then he shrugs and decides to roll with it.

"As a matter of fact… let's take a trip to Belle Reve."

Wally, I could kiss you.

Gordon Residence, Gotham

Wednesday, October 24th, 2012

"—and then we blew exhaust holes in the sides of the volcano and stopped it from erupting and taking half the planet with it."

"That's crazy!" Babs exclaims, "What happened to Red Tornado?"

"He's fine. Batman, GA and some of the other leaguers are helping him run diagnostics on his code, and they're installing failsafes for him to use in case anyone tries to corrupt him again. But for now, we've got our Den Mother back."

"Your life is insane," she grins.

"Yeah, basically."

"I'm serious! Last week, you stopped the giant plants trying to take over the entire world, yesterday you stopped a massive volcano from exploding while fighting evil robots, you're friends with aliens, fish people, a guy who can run faster than the speed of sound, and meanwhile you're also taking AP Calculus with the rest of us mortals."

"You forgot a master archer and a magician in training."

"Damn, how could I have forgotten Artemis, she's my favorite."

"Babs!"

"Except you, dummy. And Za…Zee-Zee?"

"Zatanna."

"Do you have a crush on her?"

"Babs, I just met her."

"That's not a noooooo…" Babs sings, a wicked grin stretching across her face.

"You're the worst!" I can feel my face getting hot, "I don't have time for a girlfriend. She's really cool and nice and I hope she joins the team. That's it."

"I'm just saying! The Boy Wonder's a catch."

"BABS!"

"Fiiiiiiiine. I'll stop. So," she flips a page in her notebook dramatically, "What's up next for you intrepid young heroes who definitely are not crushing on each other?"

"Now that Tornado's back, the League will probably back off us a little. No more constant supervision, so that's good. I think they're still planning to have us do a failure sim tomorrow."

"What's that?"

"It's like a virtual reality disaster simulator. They put us in an unwinnable situation to see how far we get."

"So it's like a video game?"

"Nope. The Martian Manhunter is going to link our minds up to the simulation, so it'll feel like we're really there."

Babs stares.

"That sounds really scary."

"Not really. I mean, we'll know it's a simulation, and it's important for us to train for the worst. What if something big happens and the League can't respond to it? We have to be ready to step up."

Babs shivers.

"Still…"

There's a knock on her door.

"Hey Dad!" Babs calls, "Door's open!"

Commissioner Gordon opens the door slowly, poking his head and smiling.

"You got home early!" Babs grins.

"The only good part about having meetings all day instead of real work. Good to see you, Dick."

"Hey Mr. Gordon," I wave.

"Dick, you know you can just call me Jim."

"No, I can't, it feels weird."

Besides, at least I don't call him Commissioner. Getting around that one was rough.

"I call your dad Bruce," Babs points out.

"Yeah, but I call him Bruce too."

"Are you staying for pizza night?" Commissioner Gordon asks.

"Shoot, I forgot that was Wednesday, I can't tonight. Rain check?"

"Fine, but you're coming next time!" Babs demands, poking me in the chest with her finger.

I hold my hands up in surrender.

"Deal."

"Need a ride home?" he offers.

"That would be great!"

Mount Justice

Friday, October 26th, 2012

After the Failsafe

M'gann is sitting on her bed, facing the wall without moving.

"M'gann?"

She stiffens before hunching in on herself, tears dripping down her face. I shut the door behind me, making sure it's locked before sitting on the bed next to her. I don't know what to say so instead we just sit in silence while she sobs.

It's a long time before she takes a breath. When she talks, her voice is a mixture of pain and guilt and self-hatred.

"I'm so sorry."

I try to take her hand but she pulls it away. I take the hint and keep my hands to myself.

"M'gann, we don't… blame you," I say quietly, "You didn't know it would happen and it didn't occur to anyone that there was any chance of it happening."

"It was my fault. I did that to us."

"You didn't do it on purpose. You didn't know it would happen. This is NOT your fault. Besides, at least we know disaster simulators are… a disaster."

She doesn't smile.

"Oh come on, nothing? Not even an eye roll?"

"How are you joking around right now?"

"Because that's how I deal with trauma?" I grin.

"Robin, that's not funny."

"Well, I'm not kidding," I lean back, lying down on her bed to stare at the ceiling, "What did you and Canary talk about?"

M'gann sighs heavily.

"She told me I need to practice with my powers more."

"What do you think?"

She looks down at the ground.

"What if I hurt someone? What if I pry too far and do something I can't take back?"

"But what if you do it accidentally because you don't know your limits?" I point out.

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Isn't it? That's why we train together, with supervision of the people on the planet who are the most capable of dealing with it if something goes wrong. That's why you have a mentor. I mean, what did Manhunter say?"

She sighs again and I pull her down on the bed with me. This time, she doesn't pull away and the two of us lie side by side. The heat from her body and the smell of her orange blossom shampoo calm me down more than anything has since we all fake died. This is familiar. This is safe.

"I'm scared to ask him. I think he's been avoiding me."

"Well no shit. He's probably horrified that—"

"I messed up so badly," she interrupts.

"What? No! M'gann, the only way to end the simulation was to kill you. He's your uncle! He loves you! If we're massively fucked up just having seen each other die, think about how he's feeling."

"What if he can't forgive me?" she whispers.

"You won't know what he's feeling unless you talk to him. Besides, there's no one on the planet who understands what you're going through more. He's the only other Martian on a planet full of Earthlings. Maybe he's been through something like this before."

"You think?"

"You don't know until you talk to him."

There's a long pause.

"What did you talk to Canary about?"

Now it's my turn to share. Fair's fair I guess.

"Oh, you know, I became team leader and immediately got everyone killed. Myself included."

"Robin, that's not fair."

"No, it's true. I sent Conner to his death as a diversion. And what's worse is that he knew exactly what I was doing and went along with it anyway. I mean, how am I supposed to live with that? I made a plan knowing that it would get every single one of use killed and followed through with it. If it had been real… I was willing send my last three teammates to their deaths and die right along with you. I was ready to die. I have a family, M'gann! I literally didn't even remember they existed. What would it have done to them if Batman and I both died fighting aliens?"

Now it's M'gann's turn to reach out and I let her fingers intertwine with mine.

"I died. I sacrificed myself for the mission, for the good of the entire world because it was the only way to stop the invasion. But if it had been real, I would've died for nothing. All of us died for nothing. I killed all of us for nothing and now all I can think about is that nothing is worth dying for."

The next words stick in my throat and the ache in my chest hurts so badly I have to sit up so I can still breathe.

"I don't want to die."

The look on M'gann's face can only be described as heartbroken, but instead of saying anything she just wraps her arms around me in a hug. I lean in, letting her hold us both up while tears pour down my face. The wetness on my shoulder means I'm not the only one crying.

Then the alarm on her phone goes off, completely ruining the moment.

And honestly? That's fine with me. The hug was nice, but really it was a horrible moment.

"Those are the cookies," she says, using her telekinesis to turn it off without moving from the bed.

"You should probably get them," I tell her.

The kitchen is empty when we get there. It's Wally's turn with Canary, and it looks like Conner took off a while ago. M'gann floats over to the oven to check on her cookies.

"Do you want to put a movie on?"

I shrug.

"Is there anything you want to watch?"

"Something funny?"

It takes a few minutes to find something that looks remotely funny and not likely to give any of us breakdowns. I put it on and sit on the couch. M'gann passes me a cookie and sits next to me.

"It's hot," she warns.

"Thanks."

"What did you pick?"

"The Addams' Family."

"What's it about?"

"It's about this family that's really creepy and Goth but the joke is that they're really happy and nice people. Just different. I don't remember what happens in the movie but it's cute."

"It sounds perfect."

I don't realize I fell asleep until M'gann taps me on the forehead lightly. I look up at her, blinking groggily.

"…wha?"

"You should just lie down," she suggests, trying to hide her grin.

"Don't make fun'f me," I mumble, but I'm half asleep already, "I wan' the couch."

"All yours," M'gann giggles.

I lay down, putting my head in her lap and stretching my feet out.

"Hey!" Artemis snaps. I lift my head and sure enough she's sitting on the other end of the couch, looking a little bit annoyed. But not too annoyed.

"Hi 'Mis," I mumble without moving.

"Robin, get off."

"no thanks."

"Ugh. Fine. But just this once."

"mmhm."

"Fester Addams! My brother, returned to us after twenty-five years!" the TV blares.

"Room for me to squeeze in?" Wally asks.

"If you wake him up, you're in big trouble," Artemis threatens. I don't bother to tell them I'm not asleep, because it's close enough. And opening my eyes is too much work.

"No problem," Wally grins. I can't see him do it, but I know his bragging voice well enough to see the look on his face. He lifts up my feet and the couch shifts as he squeezes in between Artemis and the armrest, "Tada!"

"Shh."

"Tada," he whispers.

I drift again.

"Kaldur, there's room," M'gann says quietly.

"ZZzzzzzzz," Artemis snores.

"I don't wish to intrude."

"Kaldur, sit on the couch," Wally orders.

"Shh," M'gann hisses. The couch dips as she squeezes closer to Artemis and Kaldur sits on her other side.

"This mamushka, we dance for you!" declares the TV, "Mamushka!"

Dinah Lance

Mount Justice

Dinah was worried. She was furious at herself, angry with the other members of the League, but mostly she was worried. The parade of young heroes coming to talk to her had been concerning mostly in that she'd been completely wrong about what was bothering each of them.

Of all of them, Conner's confession had helped him the most. Dinah was proud of him for being able to process his thoughts on his own, and she suspected there would be a pretty interesting mission report about wherever he and the Sphere had gone off to.

But the rest of the Team was struggling. Kaldur and Dick with the guilt from leading, M'gann with the guilt of hijacking the simulation, and Artemis with uncertainty about her role on the team. As ridiculous as it sounded to admit it, she was the most concerned about Wally. He'd flat out refused to talk about the failsafe, refused to address his feelings, and with the responsibilities from his new abilities, Dinah was concerned he didn't have any healthy outlets.

The failsafe was truly a disaster, and the team had been having a hard enough time since the Reds broke into the cave and accusations of betrayal had been thrown around. Dinah believed in the kids, she really did, but this was a lot for anyone to handle.

Maybe it was too much. Maybe the team would start to fracture around the edges and it was only a matter of time before they'd have to disband for their own good. Dinah didn't know what she could do for them if that that happened.

She was a combat specialist. Team psychologist was never supposed to have been her job.

Would the team be okay?

"Canary?" Conner asked. Dinah blinked, looking down at the notepad in her hand.

"I'm sorry, Conner. I got distracted. What were you saying?"

Conner shrugged.

"Just… thank you for being here. I appreciate that I can talk to you and you won't judge me."

"Of course. That's why I'm here. You are always welcome to talk to me."

She glanced up at the clock on the wall and nodded, "Why don't we finish here? We can always talk more later, but I'm sure you're hungry."

"Sure."

Outside the office, echoes from the TV bounced off the cave walls. That was a good sign, wasn't it? The team hadn't had a movie night in a while, so if they were willing to spend time with each other it meant they might be willing to recover together.

Dinah sighed, knowing it wasn't what she hoped. M'gann was the only one left. Kaldur was scared to spend time with the team and risk feeling like he wasn't wanted, Artemis didn't like the reminder that she'd been the catalyst for her teammates' suffering, Wally's coping mechanism had always been to run away (unsurprisingly), and who knew where Dick had disappeared to.

Still, she followed Conner into the kitchen on the way to the Zeta Chamber. And when the room came into view, she stopped short, hands flying up to her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.

There was a movie on, but the team had long-since stopped watching. Kaldur was on one end of the couch, head dropped as his chest rose and fell in even breaths. M'gann's head was resting on his shoulder and Artemis was leaning on M'gann. Wally was on the other end, leaning away from his teammates, but he and Artemis were holding hands, fingers interlocked in a tight grip. And Dick was sprawled out over his teammates, head in M'gann's lap and feet on Wally's legs.

They were all fast asleep, and it was the cutest thing Dinah had seen in her entire life.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Wayne Manor

Wednesday, October 31st, 2012

Bruce enters Tim's bedroom, smiling at the sight of Tim cooing over Cassie's princess costume while Stephanie and Jason argue over whether or not Jason should be able to break the "No Guns" rule to be an Outlaw. Steph is multi-tasking in order to pin my hair up with sparkly clips while yelling at Jason. I'm also multitasking by texting Babs to figure out tonight's plan. She's coming over at eight, after we've taken Cassie out trick-or-treating. Then we're meeting up with a couple of her gymnastics friends and my friends from the math team to go to Josh's party. It'll be super tame—otherwise there's no way Bruce would ever let me go—but it'll be really nice to just be Dick Grayson, hanging out with his school friends. As much fun as the Team's party would be, I just want to be myself tonight. No mission, no patrol, no training, no masks and no lies. I look up when Bruce clears his throat.

He nods apologetically and says, "There's a meeting at Mount Justice. It can't wait."

The news hits my siblings like a ton of bricks.

"No!" Cassie wails, throwing herself towards me.

"You can't miss Halloween!" Tim cries, "That's gotta be illegal!"

"You have to stay," Steph interrupts, "I can't be a movie star without my cameraman."

"You guys are so dramatic," I tease, "Stay whelmed. I'll be back in time for trick-or-treating."

I slip off Tim's bed, pulling the hair clips out and tossing them back to Steph.

"Don't go without me!" I call back to them as I follow Bruce out the door. My siblings are quick to reassure me that they won't, and then Bruce and I are heading to the Batcave.

I wait until we enter the hidden staircase before asking, "What's the meeting about?"

Batman responds, "We have reason to suspect one of the members of the team is a mole."

"What?!" I stop dead.

Does he know about Slade? He can't. He would have said something before, and he would have left the team out of it. Unless he's trying to psych me out and get me to confess to him.

"Red Arrow received information from Sportsmaster the last time they fought. It's a possibility that it is false, but we can't take that chance."

"Sportsmaster—as in Artemis' dad?! She… she's the mole?!"

"I don't know. It's a possibility, but it is very unlikely."

"But… if it's not her, then who? Batman, these are my teammates! I trust them! None of them could be a traitor!"

"Hopefully you're right about that. Until we can determine the truth, we have to operate under suspicion."

"No! Bruce, there's no way! These are my friends!"

Bruce's hand rests on my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze, "Dick, I know. I don't want it to be true anymore than you do. But we have to be cautious."

Mount Justice

"What do you mean, there's still a mole?" Wally demands.

"I mean, someone on this team is sending information about the Team's activities to the League of Shadows," Roy answers, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You might not know this since you went AWOL on us, but we already dealt with the mole. Red Tornado? Cave Invaders? We all almost died but we're fine now, thanks for asking," Wally shoots back.

"What happened with the Reds was something different. The Team was only targeted to get Red Tornado to the cave. This mole? They were specifically planted to get information from the Team and the League and send it back to the Shadows."

"Batman said you got the tip from Sportsmaster. How can you trust his word over ours? Every member of the team was vouched for by a member of the League," I cross my arms over my chest.

"Not all of them," Roy answers.

"You don't even know Conner!" I retort, "And if you'd talked to him, I don't know, ONCE, you'd know that he would never-"

"He might not mean to," Roy cuts me off, "But he was cloned in a facility with mind-control capabilities. How sure are you that he has any free will at all?"

"Roy, do me a favor and shut up," Wally glares, "Manhunter did a mental sweep on all of us after we got back from Cadmus. We were all clean of any mind control."

"It's true," Kaldur confirms, "Superboy acts of his own volition. And I agree with Robin; unless all aspects of his personality are a ruse, he would never betray League secrets to our enemies."

"And how do you know it's not a ruse?"

"It's called trust, maybe you should try it sometime."

"Robin, please," Kaldur says.

"I just don't believe that anyone on this team would do this! Sportsmaster knew that it would make us suspicious and start pointing fingers. Even having this meeting is exactly what they want us to do!"

Instead of getting mad, Roy just sighs. It hits me that he looks exhausted. I'm basically an expert in not getting enough sleep, but when his guard is down, he looks like he's barely staying on his feet. The tightness in my stomach pulses into full-blown guilt. He's been running himself ragged to find the mole and it might be… it might be me.

"Dick, I know you don't want to believe it, but imagine it's true. Someone on this team is secretly working for the bad guys, stealing League secrets and using them to hurt people. You of all people should understand why it's important to be prepared."

"So let's prepare! What kinds of secrets are getting passed along? Mission reports? Security details? Passwords? It's just as important to know what and how!" I snap, heart pounding.

Please, don't let it be me.

"If you want to give the mole free reign, go ahead and ignore it. I'm going to find out who the mole is, and I will stop them."

"I'm not saying we should ignore it!" I protest. Wally nods.

"Rob's got a point. We already agreed to do a full system reboot, but we'll update everything. A full overhaul, and logs to make sure that the League can see who signed in, what they accessed and when."

"If Batman believes it prudent, we may also consider planting decoys and tracking the response," Kaldur adds.

"Oh, come on! That's the oldest trick in the book! Do you really think anyone will fall for it?!"

"Hey, just 'cause it's simple doesn't mean it won't work," Wally answers.

"And what if we miss whoever it is? What if we change a couple passwords, close a few loops and the mole slips past?" Roy demands. Kaldur puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Then we have prepared ourselves, and we know to expect it. And we will have done it without tearing ourselves apart in the meantime."

Roy glares at him and opens his mouth like he's about to unleash The Sidekick Rant part 8. I wince but the rant never comes.

"Alright," Roy finally says. Kaldur smiles at him. There's a long pause. A really, really long pause.

"Are… you guys okay?" Wally finally breaks the silence.

"Yeah," Roy says at the same time Kaldur answers, "Fine."

"Uh huh…" Wally and I look at each other.

"I believe this is as good a place as any to adjourn. It seems I have much to discuss with Batman and the League," Kaldur says tightly. Roy nods at him and disappears out the door. Kaldur offers us a weak smile, then he's gone too.

"You've got that party tonight right?" Wally asks, kicking the leg of the chair Roy was sitting in.

"Yeah. Are you still going to meet up with the Team?"

"Not really in the mood now," he confesses.

"Same. But I promised I'd take Cassie trick-or-treating and they're all going to be upset if I ditch on them. And Babs too."

"The things you do for people," Wally shrugs, "Happy Halloween, I guess."

There's definitely something going on with him.

"Do you want to come?"

He shrugs again.

"Dude. Use your words. Stop shrugging at me."

"I'm sorry, I just—" He shrugs. I glare at him, "I was really looking forward to that party tonight but with everything that's going on, how can I go and pretend that everything is normal? If what Roy said is true, that means one of our teammates is lying to us. It's crazy! To think that Artemis would… or Megan or Conner would be working for the League of Shadows, it's bullshit!"

I don't say anything.

"But what if it's true? What if one of them really is a spy and we put everyone else in danger by not following the lead? Rob, what do we do?"

"I don't know."

The Haunt

Thursday, November 1st, 2012

A whooshing sound and a slight breeze are the only warning I get. I barely react in time, bringing my arms above my head in an 'x' to catch the attack. I do a side-kick, meeting the robot's chest. Immediately, I whirl around, swinging my leg so that it slams into the robot's head, sending it crashing to the ground. I get into ready stance, waiting for the next attack. The blindfold over my face is sticky with sweat, and my lungs are burning. I feel a breeze and hear the sound of metal sliding against the floor. I jump into the air, dodging the blow aimed towards my legs. When I land, I hold my hands out in a block, waiting for the next attack.

A fist slams into my cheek, causing the side of my head to erupt in pain. I stumble back, trying to focus. There's another rustling sound and I duck away from the attack aimed towards my head. I manage to avoid the next three blows by ducking and blocking, but the kick in my chest sends me flying back. I roll when I hit the ground and stand up smoothly. I can feel the wall at my back and it gives me an idea. The robot rushes towards me, footsteps pounding on the ground hard and fast, and I wait until the last possible second before diving to the right. The robot crashes into the wall with a loud crash. I say a silent prayer of thanks. If that hadn't worked, I would've been wide open to attack from the back. I get back into a fighting position, waiting for another robot but instead, slow footsteps make their way across the room.

"Blindfold off," I relax and tug the bandanna off, watching as Slade inspects the broken, sparking robot. My chest heaves, beads of sweat rolling off my face and down my neck. He walks over to me and holds out a towel and a water bottle.

"That was exceptional. Your improvement over the past few weeks has far exceeded my expectations."

"Thank you," I say, wiping the towel over my face and downing half the bottle in one go.

"Get cleaned up. Then you can go home."

I walk over to the bench and take another big drink of water. Slade picks up the broken robot and slings it over his shoulder. The robots are big, about the same size as a grown man. They're covered in black metal, with an orange circle over the face. They're programmed to fight, and even though they still have a lot of bugs, they're really hard to beat… without the blindfold. He leaves with the robot. I wipe my face off and sling the towel around my neck before I follow. He stops outside the workshop at the far end of the hallway. I don't know if that's the actual name, but it's the place where Slade builds, fixes and modifies his technology. I've only been inside once, but it's a huge space, full of finished projects and prototypes, scrap metal, giant spools of wire and circuitry.

"If you insist on destroying my robots, you're going to need to learn how to put them together," Slade comments. He opens the door to the workshop and throws the broken robot down on a workbench, near a soldering iron and a case of wires and flux and washers.

"Okay."

I follow him back into the hallway, mind churning. Normally, I would be beside myself with excitement. I've always wanted to build a robot and I already know how to program stuff. I never thought Slade would let me touch any of his real tech. But now, I just want to keep fighting stuff and not think about how one of my closest friends might be a traitor.

"It's too late to begin right now, but I'll give you some information to look over so we can have time next week. And I don't want you touching the machinery until you've finished some sort of safety training."

"Okay," I repeat.

Slade stops walking and looks back at me, his gaze boring a hole in my skull. He opens the nearest door, which opens into the small dining room across from the kitchen. He kicks out one of the chairs and points to it.

"There's something bothering you," It's a statement, not a question.

Hesitantly, I sit down and stare at the ground.

"I don't know how to ask this, but I promise I'm not being disrespectful or anything, but… well the thing is… Speedy- I mean Red Arrow said…" I take a deep breath, gripping the towel for moral support, "There's a mole on the team. Red Arrow wasn't sure who they're working for, but it involves the League of Shadows and probably the Injustice League. Someone's feeding them information from the inside. And I can't… I don't want to… ask but… is it me?"

Slade doesn't say anything for a few moments. He sits at the chair next to me and shakes his head. The pit in my stomach loosens.

"No. It's not. This arrangement is between you and me. Even if it wasn't, nobody in the…" he pauses, "villain community is aware that I'm training a student, much less that it's the Boy Wonder."

"But if it's not me, then who is it?"

"Contrary to what you may believe, I have better things to do than monitor your sidekick team," Slade says, but then he crosses his arms and tells me, "Your archer is Sportsmaster's daughter. His estrangement with his children is well-known, as is the fact that his younger daughter refused to follow in his footsteps. She is not the mole."

"That could just be what they want everyone to believe."

"That's true. However, she was not approached by Batman until a few months ago, and neither Sportsmaster nor her sister Cheshire has had any contact with her in years."

"So it's not Artemis?"

"No."

"What about Superboy? Cadmus could have messed with his brain."

"That is highly likely. However, the League of Assassins, or whoever else may be behind this, would not depend on Superboy to be their sole source of information."

"Why not?" I ask.

"He was rescued from a genetic experimentation lab, where he was known to have been affected by telepathic influences. The Justice League does not trust him enough to reveal important secrets to. The same goes for the Martian girl.

"No. The mole will not be one of your new members. It will be someone that you trust. Someone whose betrayal will hurt."

"They're my teammates. My friends! I trust them with my life! None of them would ever betray the League. Kid Flash and Aqualad would never—" I trail off, the words I'm trying to find failing me.

"Wouldn't they say the same about you?" Slade asks quietly.

My stomach churns.

"That's not the same!" I shout, but the second the words come out of my mouth I know they're lies. I might not be Red Arrow's mole, but no matter what Slade denies, I am a mole. I'm lying to my team, to the League, to Batman. Slade may be helping me, but he's an enemy of the Justice League. And I've given away secrets and exposed some of its weaknesses to him, "I know I agreed to this. I know we had a deal, but Slade, I…I shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong. I just…"

Slade's hand lands on my shoulder.

"I know you're upset about your team but panicking is not productive. We'll keep working tomorrow, but for now, go home. Be with your family."

They way he says it sends a chill down my spine, like what you say to someone after a family member dies. His hand on my shoulder feels menacing, even though he's barely touching me. I can't tell what he's thinking, but he doesn't look angry or upset or anything but calm. I hate that I can't read him.

I just want to go home. I just want this to be over.

Slade doesn't move as I stand up and head for the door, back upstairs to the garage and my motorcycle. He just sits at the table, deep in thought.

The Haunt

Friday, November 2nd, 2012

Duck. Dodge. Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck! Knee block. Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.

"Again."

Thirty-two reps? Is he serious?

I raise my fists and he cracks the targets together to make a bang. Then he's swinging and I fall back into the same pattern I've been doing for almost two hours.

Duck. Dodge. Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck! Knee block. Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.

"Again."

Ugh! We must be almost done, right?

Bang!

Duck. Dodge. Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck! Knee block. Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.

"Again."

It's probably just five more. That makes an even forty.

"Again."

Or not.

Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.

"Again."

"How many more?" I ask, leaning on my knees to try and catch my breath.

"Until I tell you to stop. Now go again."

And again.

"Can I get water?"

"Again."

Bang!

"Again."

Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck under the target, barely moving out of the way fast enough. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish. Wipe the sweat off my face, breathe hard to stop myself from falling over.

How many more can there be?

"Again."

That's it. I'm done.

"Come on! We've already done this drill fifty times!" I throw my hands in the air in frustration.

"Do it again," Slade repeats, crossing his arms.

"No! You said we were going to be in the Workshop building robots this session, not doing the same sparring drill for hours! I'm done!"

I match Slade's gaze. His face is a blank mask and I refuse to back down. Finally, he nods and the corner of his lip curls up slightly.

"If you're sure you don't want to do this…"

I cross my arms.

"Fine."

Yes! Before he can change his mind, I start to move towards the pile of discarded targets to put them away. Slade's voice stops me.

"Leave it. I'll clean up later."

I look up in confusion. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up suddenly and all I can think is that there's something wrong about this. When has he ever given in before?

"It's no problem-" I start, but Slade cuts me off.

"I said, leave it."

Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the evil lair.

"Follow me," Slade says as he disappears through the doorway. By the time I catch up to him, he's opening a door at the end of the hallway.

"Go through the next two doors and wait for me."

I glance up at him as I walk through the first door, resisting the urge to point out that the Workshop is the other way. I shiver when the door closes behind me and the lock clicks. My stomach clenches. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. There's nowhere else to go except for the open door at the end of the hallway so I follow Slade's directions and find myself standing at the end of a brightly lit hallway. Like the rest of the complex, the walls are pale gray steel and the ceiling is white.

My fingers twitch and my heart pounds. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten in my head. Then I do it again, but count to fifteen. Then twenty. What happens now? It's a dead end and there's nowhere for me to run. What's he going to do? Wait, no, don't think about that. That's not helpful.

The door opens and I jump a foot into the air. Slade is holding a roll of blue pre-wrap and a roll of white athletic tape.

"What are those for?"

"I thought you were an athlete, Richard. Taping prevents injury and provides support," he says cryptically. Before I can answer, he reaches towards the wall behind me. When he presses it, a panel raises and he pulls it to the side. The hidden door slides open, revealing a dark room. Still holding the door open, he turns towards me.

"In."

Slowly, I walk forwards and enter the dark space. As I move in, my eyes start to make out large shapes. Slade closes the door behind me with a loud bang and the lights turn on, suddenly illuminating the space. My eyes close reflexively, and when I open them, my heart stops.

It's an interrogation room.

I whirl around, dropping into a fighting stance. Slade is still standing near the wall, watching me. He looks unimpressed.

"What are you doing?!" I demand, tense and ready to move in whatever direction I have to. The room has a flat ceiling, with no beams or ventilation pipes that I can escape to.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," he responds coolly. He nods his head to the right, "Take a seat."

I glance over and see a high-backed metal chair.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to go with a no on that one."

"You are out of chances. Do not make this difficult."

"Sure, that sounds like a great plan, Slade. I'd just love to sit in your freaky murder chair while you torture me. Sounds like fun!"

The lights go out. I close my eyes, listening for any clue of where Slade is. Something skitters across the floor to my left. I take a step to my right and raise my-

Slade's fist connects with my diaphragm. The air rushes out of my lungs and I double over coughing. I struggle as he drags me over to the chair, but my arms are clutching my stomach and I don't stand a chance. When he pushes me into the chair, he keeps his arm pressed against my chest to hold me in place. I try to twist out of his grip so I can slide out. The lights turn on again and black spots obscure my vision. Metal starts rattling, and something freezing cold closes around my neck with a click.

"No!" I shout. Slade pulls on the chain, slamming my head against the back of the chair and my hands reach for my neck to stop the metal collar from strangling me. If I press my back flat against the chair, I can breathe but I can't move my head.

"Let me go!" I wheeze.

Slade crouches down in front of me and I can't see what he's doing. I kick out, trying to knock him away, but something clamps around my legs and pulls them against the chair. He adds cuffs around my ankles and just like that, I'm totally pinned down.

"Let me go!" I shout, twisting and writhing. Slade looms over me menacingly.

"It's time you understood something, Richard. You do not get to do whatever you want. I have been incredibly patient with you, but you continue to be insolent. As a result, you have lost the right to move until you can show me respect."

"You can't do that!"

"Can't I? Make a fist."

"Why?"

He holds up the roll of pre-wrap so I can see it, "I'm going to tape your hand. I can either use this or tape your bare skin."

"What? No!"

Stars explode in my vision and the right side of my face burns.

"Make. A. Fist," he raises his hand to hit me again and I panic.

I flinch when he grabs my hand but he wraps it quickly with the pre-wrap and covers it in athletic tape. Then he rips off a big strip and secures my hand to the arm of the chair. He does the same to my other arm, not bothering to wait for me to hold it out. He ties ropes around my elbows, shoulders and knees, binding each tightly against the chair. When he finally steps back, I can't move.

At all.

The collar pins my head to the back of the chair so there's no way to turn. My legs are locked down and something around my waist that goes through the chair stops me from shifting to either side. Slade wrapped them so tightly that I can't wiggle my fingers. I've never felt so trapped in my entire life. I've never needed to move as much as I do right now but I can't. I can't move. Everything itches and my back hurts and I just need… I need to move!

"Slade, please!" I'm begging now. Slade crouches, lowering his face until it fills my vision.

"Do not forget, Richard. You. Are. Mine. Everything you have is something I have given you. And I can take all of it away. Do you understand me?"

My jaw locks and my teeth grind against each other so I can bite back the stream of curses that will just make this worse. How could I have missed this? Slade is evil and twisted and he always has been. I glare at him with as much hatred as I can muster. My stomach freezes when Slade grins slowly.

"You're adorable," he says and his fingers dig into my chin in a steel grip. I can't move away, and the tight grip quickly becomes agonizing. I grit my teeth even harder and refuse to cry out.

"I own you, Richard. You belong to me. You would be dead without me. Think about that for a little while."

The fingers suddenly release my chin and the pain immediately starts to fade.

"Let me out!" I growl, blocking out his words. He starts to move towards the door and panic sets in.

"Let me go! Let me out of here! Slade!" I strain against the bindings as hard as I can but they don't budge.

"Screw you!" I scream, "I hate you! I wish you were dead!"

Slade stops. Very slowly, he turns around.

"You just lost the right to talk."

"Fuck you! Let me OUT!"

"And for that charming message, you lose the right to see. Would you like to find out what else I can take from you?"

The shout that comes out of my mouth isn't words. It's just sound and rage as Slade disappears behind me. When he reappears, there's a thick wad of cloth in his hands. I clench my jaw shut, trying to fight back the terror.

"No more brave words?" Slade taunts, "If I had taught you to keep your mouth shut sooner, we could have avoided this."

His fingers close around my jaw and wrench my mouth open with brute strength and it feels like the world's worst muscle pull. As soon as it's open, he shoves the gag in so far that I almost throw up.

"MMMMFGEJGJHHGDLF!"

"You will learn respect," he says in my ear, "And I suggest that you try not to think about how much your nose itches right now."

Then he blindfolds me and leaves me trapped in the dark.

I struggle, writhing and pulling and twisting and tugging but nothing happens. Whatever Slade did, I can't get out of it. I'm trapped. My muscles are tensed and sore and my joints hurt from sitting still. It's like a million ants are crawling over my body and inside my skin and I want to scream and cry but anything deeper than a breath through my nose makes me gag. I recite the alphabet backwards to give my brain something to do. Then I count backwards from one hundred. Then I recite prime numbers in Spanish. The itch on my nose has gotten progressively worse but I can't reach it no matter which way I strain and my skin is buzzing like it's stuffed with bees and I think I'm going crazy.

Slade won't leave me here. He'll come back and let me out. And as soon as he does, I'm going straight to Batman. I'm going to tell him everything, and then Batman and the League will destroy Slade and put him away for good.

He thinks he owns me?! That he can do this to me?! Slade doesn't own me! I don't owe him anything, even if he did save my life!

"You would be dead without me. Think about that."

I start counting.

One. Two Three.

I bite down on the gag even tighter before relaxing my jaw. By some miracle, it shifts the cloth forward a tiny bit, just enough that breathing won't make me throw up. My fingers are numb and trying to move them just makes my whole arm sting.

Four hundred eighty-eight. Four hundred eighty-nine. Four hundred ninety.

I never asked Slade to save my life. And besides, how many times have I saved someone else's life and never asked for anything in return? How often has Batman saved my life without ever ordering me around like a slave?

Three thousand eleven. Three thousand twelve. Three thousand thirteen.

Why didn't I tell Batman the truth? Why didn't I get help before it was too late?

Six thousand two hundred fifty-four. Six thousand two hundred fifty-five.

Why did I talk back to Slade? What did I think was going to happen?

Nine thousand seven hundred forty-two. Nine thousand seven hundred forty-three.

He wouldn't leave me here. He won't. Won't he?

Ten thousand.

My whole body is numb, and even the tiniest movement I make sends pins and needles jabbing up and down my arms. Everything is shaking, and my stomach clenched in on itself, giving me waves of pain and hunger.

Humans can survive three to five days without water, and almost a month without food. If Slade doesn't come back, it'll take me three days to die. Three days tied to a chair, every part of my body in pain or totally numb, waiting to die.

I don't want to die.

I shouldn't count. It'll just make it worse.

Even if I was going to, I lost count.

Fourteen thousand one hundred thirty. Fourteen thousand one hundred thirty one.

The tear tracks have dried out, sticking to my cheeks and everything itches so badly it feels like my face is burning. I scream even though my throat is already raw and struggle as hard as I can, giving one last burst of energy to try and break free.

I can't get out.

My body is shaking from the effort and I slump against the ropes, relaxing into the bonds instead of trying to pull myself loose. My arms are numb from lack of circulation and my back is screaming from being in the same place for too long. The only things I can hear are my own breathing and the loud rumbling from my stomach.

The inside of my mouth is dry and my lips are so chapped they're starting to bleed. My head is pounding and between the dehydration and the lack of circulation to my arms and legs, I feel so dizzy I can't hold myself up. The pressure on my joints is so much worse from leaning into the ropes and I would scream if my voice wasn't already gone.

Everything hurts so badly that the pain is just a constant pulsing wave that jumps from limb to limb to my head and my back and my stomach.

He's going to come back. He has to come back.

Twenty thousand six hundred eleven. Twenty thousand six hundred twelve.

I'll do anything.

There's a creaking sound, so soft it has to be a hallucination.

But it happens again and there's no mistaking the sound of the door swinging open, or the heavy footsteps pacing slowly into the room.

My breath catches in my throat and my heart pounds with equal parts hope and sheer panic.

"Have you learned your lesson, Richard?" Slade asks smoothly. The question sends a wave of terror down my spine so bad my whole body shakes, "I'm going to take the gag out and ask you a few questions. I expect an honest response."

There's a tugging sensation as he pulls the gag out. The sudden loss of pressure on my tongue makes me cough so badly I start dry heaving and that makes me even dizzier. A spike of pain shoots through my head from lack of oxygen and my chest aches so I gasp for air in the middle of my violent coughing fit.

"Take a few seconds," Slade says coldly. I choke down the rest of the coughs, desperately forcing my breathing under control. He's going to get mad at me again and leave me in here and if he does, he might not come back. My body won't stop shaking and my stomach is revolting against the rest of me and I'm going to throw up and Slade decides he's given me enough time to recover.

"Did you like that?"

The words cut straight through my body like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head and I shiver uncontrollably but I still can't move and everything hurts and is numb at the same time.

"nn.," I try to answer, but my throat screams in pain and my voice is so raw the sound refuses to come out, "Nnn."

I hear footsteps again and I panic.

"Nnn! Ple-!" my voice breaks halfway through and it hurts so badly that my eyes burn, but there's no more tears left. I writhe against the restraints in a blind panic.

Don't leave me here again!

Please!

NO!

"Stop," Slade orders.

I freeze.

Something smooth presses against my lower lip while Slade puts his hand on my head.

"Drink."

He tilts the glass up and I gulp down water like I've never had any in my entire life. It's cold and smooth and I forget how badly my throat hurts until Slade pulls the glass away after three gulps.

"That's enough," he says.

"No!"

His hand tightens in my hair, sending a wave of pain down.

"What was that?"

I swallow nervously. My throat still feels raw and my mouth feels horrifyingly dry but it's not excruciating to talk.

"…more."

"You're still thirsty, Richard?"

I try to nod.

"Well? What do you say?"

Hope springs up in my chest and I chase it.

"please"

"Please what?"

"Please… more… water"

The glass presses up to my lip again and I almost cry in relief, but he doesn't move.

"This seems like a very good moment to remind you that you don't know what I may have put in here," Slade says. His thumb is rubbing circles in my hair and the feeling sends goosebumps down my spine, "As you already know, there are a nearly endless number of undetectable chemicals I might have added. You took an enormous risk for a very small payout. Tell me why."

He's still holding the water glass up to my face and I can almost taste it. I don't know what's worse; he might have just drugged me, I would still do anything to drink the maybe-drugged water, he won't stop touching my head, and there's nothing I can do about any of it.

He can do anything to me and we both know it.

"…thirsty."

"You were thirsty. Desperately thirsty?"

Trying not to cry, I do my best to nod. The collar pinches the skin and I jerk back, but Slade's hand holds my head in place.

"So it was a matter of survival?" he doesn't wait for an answer before saying, "Or is there another reason? A much, much more important reason?"

I'm trying so hard to ignore the glass of water still taunting me that I can barely hear him.

"Tell me, Richard, do you think there's another reason?"

"yes."

"What do you think that reason is?"

"you told me to," I whisper.

"And why is that such an important reason?"

I feel tears drip down through the blindfold. The tear tracks feel like acid against my skin and I can't do anything about it and I can't even stop my voice from shaking.

"Because… you're… I…"

Suddenly, Slade rips off the blindfold and I cringe against the sudden influx of light, hissing in pain as the sight of it burns my retinas.

"Why, Richard?" Slade demands, the shout ringing through the room and the light is too bright and I can't flinch or curl into a ball and there's nothing I can do to escape the fact that I… that Slade… I…

"I belong to you."

"Are you crying?"

"Yes," I whimper.

"Why are you crying?" His voice is hard and cold and pointed and the last bit of control I have breaks and I start sobbing.

"I don't want to belong to you!" I scream, voice hoarse from screaming into the gag but I'm crying and desperate and there's nothing left for me to hold on to. Slade waits and I cry, and the part of me that's not desperate and lost and hopeless doesn't want to stop crying because it's delaying the inevitable and I need every single second but there's no point because suddenly the tears stop coming and the heaving cries fade.

"What are you going to do about it?"

I should feel pain. I should feel anger. I should feel hopeless or scared or… or… or something, but I just feel numb.

"Whatever you tell me to do."

"Good. Look at me."

I raise my head. The look on his face is terrifying, so I look at his eyepatch instead.

"Who are you?"

"Richard Grayson," I mumble.

"That's not what I asked you," Slade says in a low voice, "Your name is irrelevant. I asked you who you are. I want an answer."

"I'm your apprentice."

"Who do you belong to?"

"I…"

I can't say it again.

Slade sighs.

"We'll try again in a few days."

My heart stops.

Days?

He takes a step towards me, raising the blindfold to cover my face again and I scream.

"NO! NO! PLEASE! PLEASE NO DON'T‼‼ PLEASE!"

Slade puts down the blindfold and I can barely breathe.

"I want you to remember this feeling," Slade says. His voice is so quiet I can barely hear it over the sound of my heartbeat, "This terror, this desperation, and how lucky you are that this one time, your begging is enough. However else you choose to spend your time, whatever alliances you've built, whatever friends you've made, all of it is superficial. The only thing that is real is your allegiance to me. Do you understand?"

I nod with a whispered, "Yes."

"If you tell anyone about your true allegiances, I promise you that what you've just experienced is NOTHING compared to what I will do to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Who are you?"

"I'm your apprentice."

"What's your name?"

"Ri—Renegade."

"Beyond that, what are you?"

"Nothing. I'm nothing."

"Who do you belong to?"

"I belong to you."

"Good," he holds up the glass of water again and brings it up to my mouth, "Drink."

When the glass is empty, he smooths my hair down and leans closer.

"Do you see how much easier this is when you're obedient?"

"Yes."

"Am I going to have to teach you this lesson again?"

"Never."

He reaches for something I can't see and there's a clicking sound, like something being uncapped. Slade holds up the syringe to the light and flicks it to shake out the air bubbles. I swallow, staring with wide eyes.

"I am going to inject you with this. When I'm done, I will let you out. You are not going to protest."

"What is it?" I whisper.

"I know you pride yourself on your lack of enhanced abilities. After this, that will no longer be strictly true."

No. No. No! He can't do that!

But he can.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from shouting out something I'll regret. There's nothing I can do to stop him. If I cooperate it'll be quick and he'll let me out. No matter how badly I want to stop him, anything I do will just make it so, so much worse.

"Good boy," I flinch as Slade lines up the needle with the vein on my forearm. Tears drip down my face and I bite down on my tongue even harder. But then Slade pulls the needle away and holds up the folded-up gag, "Bite down. I don't want you to bite your tongue off."

It's the hardest thing I've ever done, but I force myself to bite down on the fabric without protesting. He lines up the syringe again and I squeeze my eyes shut.

"For what it's worth, you won't remember this part," Slade says. Then he presses the plunger and the world catches on fire.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Location: ?

Date: ?

"Drink."

I sit bolt upright, coughing and spitting but there's nothing in my mouth, no bitter after-taste or fuzziness from the drugs. It would be like waking up from the world's easiest night sleep except for the one word command floating through my brain. Slade drugged me. He told me the water was drugged and I still drank it.

No. It wasn't real. It was a dream. It had to have been a dream, because this is my room. I'm in Wayne Manor, I'm home, and my world isn't ending.

It wasn't real. It wasn't. It can't have been.

I scramble for the light switch, pushing my sheets off and sending pillows tumbling to the floor. When the lights turn on, my heart stops. I'm wearing the same blue shorts and cotton t-shirt I wore to training yesterday. There are scraps of prewrap stuck to my wrists and tiny red welts in the shape of ropes along my elbows and knees.

It was real. It was real. Slade really… I was…

I suck in a breath and grab at my hair, trying to keep myself from panicking. As I turn, I notice the note on my bedside table. My hands are shaking when I try to pick it up, and I have to sit down to read it.

"Dick,

You were asleep when we got home last night and I didn't want to wake you. Stephanie's ballet recital went well. She's very talented and Alfred recorded the whole thing. It would mean a lot to her if you look at the video and come up with some specific compliments. Everyone missed you at dinner; Tim decided we were going to Mars 2112 in Midtown and it was a big success. Even Jason liked it, although he only rated their burgers an eight out of twelve on his rating scale. Hopefully, you won't have a mathletes competition for the next performance. It really was adorable.

I'm sorry again that I didn't remind you about it sooner. Hope you slept well and that you have a productive day today.

-Bruce"

Oh god.

Stephanie had a ballet recital last night. Alfred took videos on that old-timey camcorder he refuses to upgrade. Bruce took everyone out to a campy space-themed restaurant afterwards. My family was out having fun while I thought I was going to die alone in an underground bunker. Jason, Tim, Steph and Cassie were eating burgers while Slade broke me.

How did I even get home last night? Did Slade take me? Did he break into the house? Was he in my room? Did he put me in my bed while I was drugged and unconscious?

He knew nobody was home last night. He can get around the manor's security, especially if Hardison helped him hack in. What if he got into the batcave? What if he piggybacked onto the manor's security network? He could be watching me right now. He could be watching all of us, everything that we do. And I can't stop him. I can't tell Bruce or Alfred that he's watching us, because he'll see. He'll take me away and I'll never see any of them again.

Slade let me go. He let me go back to the manor and it wasn't because he trusts me to come back. He can take me anytime he wants. Nothing can stop him, not Bruce, not Batman, not the Justice League and not me.

He

owns

me.

I belong to him.

I sit on the ground, back pressed against the door while I try to remember how to breathe. When I bring my hands up to my face, I see the ink on the back of my left hand. For a horrible heart-stopping second, I think it's a tattoo. Then I realize it's a note, written in black sharpie.

"Today 2 pm"

Oh god. Get it off. I need it off.

Scalding hot water pours down over my head, making clouds of steam rise when it hits the cold tile. I stand numbly under the shower head and wish it was even hotter. I want the water to burn me, to eat through my skin like acid so I can dissolve until I'm just a puddle on the ground that gets flushed down the drain and disappears forever.

The left side of my body is numb from the heat, so I shift and pull my right arm under the jet. I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, but the pain still isn't enough. I'm dirty from the inside out and nothing is ever going to make me clean again. Everything is shaking and it has nothing to do with the hot water. I reach for the bottle of shampoo and it slips through my fingers, hitting the ground with a bang that scares me badly enough to break through the layers of numbness. My knees hit the ground, and then I'm on all fours on the floor of my shower, boiling water pouring over my back. Blood pools out from my scraped knees, swirling with the water and gliding across white tiles.

It's never going to be okay.

I don't know when I started crying, but now that I am, I'm sobbing. The water hitting the tile and the bathroom's ventilation cover the sound as I scream and sob and grab at my hair.

Slade owns me. I belong to him. He can do whatever he wants to me and I have to obey him because If I don't, he'll take me away forever. He knows everything about me; he didn't need to hurt me to break me. He just took everything away. All he had to do to break me was make me completely helpless and then wait.

I'm pathetic. I'm a monster. I'm a liar. I'm a traitor. I'm a mole, I'm a weapon that Slade can use to do whatever he wants. I can't stop him. I'm terrified of him, to find out what he'll do if I ever try to disobey him. I can't fight him, I can't get away from him, and I can't stop him. The only thing I can do is keep the act up as long as I can so he doesn't take me away from Bruce, from my family, my friends and from Robin.

My legs are blocking the drain and the water is rising. It's high enough to cover the fingers that are pressed tightly against the tile floor. All you need to drown is enough water to cover your nose and mouth. This is more than enough. I could knock myself out, make sure my body keeps the drain blocked, and never wake up. It would all be over. Slade can't hurt me if I'm dead.

My stomach churns violently at the thought and that's the only warning I get before I throw up.

The Haunt

My heart pounds and my breaths get shorter. Every step towards the office door echoes like a gunshot and I might as well be made of glass. My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob. The door opens unceremoniously. My laptop is open for me on my desk. Slade doesn't look up when I walk into the office at 1:47pm, doesn't say anything at all. I sit in the folding chair, wincing at the loud squeak it makes. Slade doesn't turn and I let out a breath of relief. Hardison is waiting on me, so I launch the coding program and open the chat.

'Hey! Long time no see! Where you been, man?'

The casual banter sends me reeling. He sounds exactly the same way that he always does. Nothing has changed for him at all. The fact that my entire life is a lie and that Slade… owns me… none of that affects him at all.

He's waiting for a response, so I type.

'Busy.'

'No worries. We've got a lot to do today. I'm going to show you how to set up fake ID's, degrees, backgrounds and qualifications. It's kind of different than our usual but it's really important for you to know. Just in case.'

In case I need to run away and never be found.

'Alright. So first, we need to choose a name. I like using Doctor Who characters, cause then you can tell who the nerds are when you introduce yourself, but anything is cool.'

If this was any other day, in any other circumstance, I might have smiled. But now, I just feel numb. I'm not sure if numb is better than sick.

'John Doe.'

'Not what I was going for, but alright.'

Then he starts pulling up screens with different search bars and social media sites and code is flashing across the screen too fast for me to follow. He shows me how to start setting up a new identity building it from the bottom up. It's a complicated process. You have to falsify a birth certificate in the correct format, which apparently can be tricky because some places change the layout a lot and others have had the same format for centuries, and depending on how deep you go, you might need to add a hospitalization record for the fake pregnant mother. Then you need a passport, and a registered social security number, which is an entire lesson for another day. Once this is set up, then you have to create a background. This can be as simple as three or four social media accounts with registration dates falsified to look more than a day old. You can also fake school records, report cards, transcripts, a weird assortment of awards, work with community service groups, or anything else that leaves a trail to show the person actually exists.

'I do a lot of work with a grifter,' Hardison types midway through writing an article about Mr. Doe's victory in a local gardening competition, 'To sell the story, you need google results. If Sophie introduces herself as the CFO of Robotech, then there had better be some convincing results when the mark searches her or the con is blown.'

'Who's Sophie?'

'The CFO of Robotech.'

'Very funny.'

'As of right now, she is the CFO. In two days… she'll be something else.'

'And you'll have to make her a new ID?'

'You got it.'

He finishes the gardening article with the address of the community gardens somewhere in Oaksdale.

'And…'

The typing stops. I wait, but it doesn't continue. He probably wants me to post the article.

'What should the publishing date be?' I type.

He doesn't respond. I bite my lip and look over the screen carefully. Nothing changes. After a couple seconds, I glance to the side. Slade's desk is empty. I whip around, expecting him to be standing over me, but he's not there. The office is empty.

That's… weird. I didn't see him leave. I click refresh a few times, but Hardison still isn't responding. Slade's computer is still open to the page he was working on. I freeze. That's definitely not right. He's never left the page open if he isn't in the room. He always locks the computer if he's going to check something else. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

I leave the office and head towards the exit that leads back up to the garage. None of the doors are locked. I sprint up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Slade isn't in the fake office. My backpack is though, sitting right where I left it next to the door. And my phone is pinging like crazy. I grab my cell phone from the outside pocket and look down at the messages. I have five missed calls from Wally, Jason and Babs. I open messenger and see fifteen messages from Wally. They're a combination of "Where are you?" and "CAVE ASAP."

What the hell is going on?!

I grab my backpack and run outside. It looks like the end of the world. Four cars are piled up in the middle of the street, fenders and bumpers smashed in. A lamppost is knocked on its side and the street is flooding from where one car destroyed a fire hydrant. Kids are running around frantically, tugging at the car doors. Some of them are crying and they all look terrified. I run over to the blue Toyota, where a group of boys are trying to smash the window.

"What's going on?" I shout, trying to scare them off. A boy with a buzz cut, jeans and a faded soccer jersey points at the window.

"We gotta get her out!"

There's a toddler in her car-seat, screaming and crying. There's a cut on the side of her face and blood drips down her cheek. There's no sign of a parent.

"Get a coat hanger!" someone yells, and there's a flurry of action while someone runs into their apartment, then a dismembered coat hanger is being shoved through the window. The buzz cut kid pulls the car door open and frees the girl from her car seat, pulling her out of the wreckage. She screams and writhes and cries and he does his best to comfort her. I turn to the girl with the coat hanger. She might be twelve.

"Are there any more kids trapped?"

She shakes her head, frizzy black hair bouncing with the motion.

"She's the last one."

"What's going on?"

The girl looks at me, terror in her eyes.

"The grownups are gone."

I stare at her in shock.

Gone?

"What's your name?"

"Mimi."

"Okay. I'm Richard. Do you know where the high school is?"

She nods slowly, pointing towards Third Avenue. It's only a few blocks from here.

"Can you help me get as many people as possible there? We need somewhere that's safe for the little kids to keep them all together."

She nods, determination filling her eyes.

"Shaniya! Jacob!" she shouts and two kids her age run over. She starts giving them instructions, telling them to get their siblings and start directing people. Within minutes, all the kids in their neighborhood have started migrating towards the high school. Turns out Mimi is a natural and everything looks under control here. My phone pings again and it's another frantic text from Wally in all caps. Shit, I have to get to the cave. It takes me sixty seconds to sprint to the zeta beam, but it feels way too long. The other neighborhoods aren't nearly as well organized, and some of the car accidents look even worse than King Street. I don't have enough time to stop. Slipping on my sunglasses, I rush into the phone booth and slam the door.

"Recognized: Robin, B-01."

The light fades with a whir and suddenly a blur of yellow is smashing into me.

"Where have you been?!" Wally shouts, "Batman said you had work to do but then they disappeared and Jason had no idea where you were and Babs didn't know either!"

"Wally, I'm here now. And I set up a bunch of kids at Gotham North on the way."

"This is bad, Rob. I'm freaking out."

"So am I, but you have to start freaking in. We need to pretend to be calm for the rest of the world," I don't know how the words come out so smoothly. I've been numb since I first realized Slade wasn't at the computer. Wally nods.

"Get changed. Aqualad wants the three of us to do a full-coverage broadcast."

"Alright. Give me two minutes and I'll set it up."

Wally pulls his goggles down, "I'll go tell everyone you're here. They were worried."

"I'm sorry," I call after him as he speeds off.

I make my way to my room, shutting the door behind me. Bruce insisted that I keep a few spare uniforms in here. I guess he was right. I pull out my Robin uniform, but before I can put it on, it hits me.

All the adults are gone.

That means Bruce is gone, Alfred is gone, the Justice League is gone… and Slade is gone.

He's gone.

My legs give out and I drop to the floor for the second time in two days. He's gone. He can't hurt me. He can't do anything to me.

And I have to bring him back.

No.

Stop. Don't think about that. I'm Robin. It's Robin's job to save people and the entire world is counting on him. On me. I have a job to do and I'm going to do it, no matter what it costs me. For the people in danger and the lives at stake.

The Watchtower has a protocol for this. In case of emergencies, there's a program that will automatically connect the Justice League's broadcast channel to every TV, cell-phone and radio in the world. When I walk in, Kaldur puts a hand on my shoulder and says solemnly, "We were very worried. I'm glad to have you here."

Then we set up the emergency broadcast and walk to the center of the training floor. Kid Flash and I make our way to Aqualad's sides. He nods and I start the broadcast.

"Children and teenagers of Earth, I am Aqualad. These are my friends, Kid Flash and Robin."

"We are using Justice League tech to cast and stream to every TV, radio, smartphone, and computer on the planet," I say.

"We know you must be scared, and angry. We know that with your parents gone, there's a temptation to run wild, but please, stay calm," Kid Flash says.

"We will find a way to bring the adults back. But for now, the oldest among you must step up," Aqualad adds.

"Anyone with EMT training, no matter how basic, we will need your services to help anyone injured in car crashes. We will attempt to provide medical supplies to areas in need," Kid Flash instructs.

"Boy scout and girl scout troops. We are tasking you with setting up basic refuges inside high school gymnasiums. It will be up to you to organize the children in your areas," I say.

"Robin is developing an application to call for immediate aid. If someone needs medical assistance or emergency supplies, we will ensure that you get it. It is up to everyone to make sure that as many children as possible are accounted for. Make sure that all your siblings, friends and neighbors are accounted for."

"To anyone with experience with infants, please contact us immediately so that we can set up a care system for newborns."

"We have to work together to keep each other safe," I say.

"It is up to you," Aqualad finishes.

I cut off the transmission.

"It'll take me a few minutes to get the app running. I can just repurpose some of the code for our communicators."

"Good," Aqualad turns to Artemis and Zatanna, "Start setting up a refuge in Happy Harbor. Kid Flash, you do the same in Central city. Superboy, Miss Martian, the three of us will visit all the sites of major accidents and crash landings. Save everyone you can."

Just like that, the cave is empty, somber and silent. It takes me a few minutes to get the app running, and immediately it's downloaded thousands of times. Requests for aid start pouring in, and I project every message above the training floor. Most of them are supply requests. I apologize to Bruce for what this is going to do to his credit card bill, and open twitter. Wally convinced me, Roy and Kaldur to make superhero twitter accounts, and even though Robin has only posted once, I've already gotten ten-thousand followers.

"If you need emergency supplies, take what you need from local stores. Be reasonable."

And post.

It helps, and in the next few minutes most of the smaller supply requests have been resolved. But a lot of people still need help. Luckily, some junior EMT groups have started posting their locations on Facebook, so I can connect some of the emergencies to nearby help.

It's still not enough.

Kid Flash zooms back into the cave.

"Central city is set. I checked every car on the road and cleared out all the kids. A couple scout troops are making rounds. How did you think of that?"

"They've got some emergency training and uniforms," I point at the hundreds of emergency requests still floating in the center of the room, "We need to take care of these."

"Just tell me where."

And he's off.

Over the next two hours, I direct Kid Flash, Miss Martian, Superboy and Aqualad around the globe to rescue kids in need and bring them to safety. When Artemis and Zatanna get back, I send them out to organize the babysitters who responded to our request. Soon, the enormous maternity ward at Yale New Haven Hospital is packed full of newborns and infants, with an army of six hundred teenage volunteers keeping watch over them.

At four sixteen in the afternoon, the emergency requests run out.

My eyes burn from staring at the screen for so long and my back is aching, but I can finally let out a breath.

"Return to the cave," I announce over the comm link, "That's the last of them."

I open the direct link to the batcave, crossing my fingers that I'll get an answer. I need to make sure that they're okay. Jason's face fills the screen.

"What took you so long?!" he shouts. Cassie whimpers off screen and he turns to her with an apology.

"I'm so sorry guys. I've been organizing rescues."

"Babs and Bette brought fifty kids to the manor. It's closer than Gotham Academy," Jason reports, ignoring my apology.

"Is everyone okay?"

"Most of the rich kids stayed in their houses. All the high schools are packed with kids. Did you see that SafeRides is trending on the app store? Anyone with a license can volunteer to drive kids who are stranded and the call centers are packed."

"That's great," the ball of worry in my chest finally starts to loosen. No matter what else is happening, my family is safe.

"People are actually pretty calm. That was a good speech," Jason gives me a small, reassuring smile.

"Thanks, Jay. I have to go now. The Team is doing everything we can to bring the adults back. Everything is going to be okay."

"Good luck."

"Can you try Zatara's locator spell?" I ask Zatanna.

"It's more than just the words to the spell! It takes training and years of work. Robin, I'm just not on Zatara's level."

"Look, I know it's hard but try to stay whelmed. We'll find your dad, Batman, all of them. It's what we do."

"How are you so calm right now? The whole world is counting on us! What if we can't fix this?! Why aren't you scared?"

Why am I not scared? Because this is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Miss Martian turns away from the disaster tracker to give me a worried glance, but I shake my head at her, just small enough that Zatanna won't notice.

"I told you, Zee. This is part of the gig," I say with a comforting smile and after a second, Zatanna nods back with renewed determination. I can feel Miss Martian's eyes on my back but she doesn't say anything, either out loud or through a mindlink.

"Can you give me a minute to figure out the spell?" Zatanna asks.

"Take all the time you need," Miss Martian answers kindly.

Zatanna nods firmly and heads towards the empty living room. On the holographic disaster tracker, blue dots representing our teammates race from one red spot to the next. Kid Flash and Artemis are covering a traffic pileup in Midtown, while Superboy and Aqualad took the bioship to stop a dam from breaking in Colorado.

"Are you okay?" Miss Martian asks softly once our newest teammate is out of earshot.

"I'm fine."

"That's… not what I meant. You don't want this to end, do you?"

"M'gann…"

"He's gone, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He is. And we're doing everything we can to bring him back."

"I'm sorry, Robin."

I sigh, sitting against the wall of the briefing room. I let my head rest on the rocks, staring at the disaster alert system on the training floor. The holographic globe spins and the blue dots are moving again.

"I could run. Right now. I'd just put together a disguise, take a zeta and lay low until he gives up looking."

M'gann sits across from me where she can watch the entrances in case anyone comes back.

"Where would you go?" Her voice is full of concern, but also a hint of encouragement.

"I don't know. I could leave the country, hide out somewhere in Europe. Maybe I could move to Amish country. Somewhere that I can stay off the grid, where he wouldn't be able to track me down."

"Everyone would try to find you. Not just him. Batman and the rest of the League would stop at nothing to find you."

I hug my arms around my knees.

"I know. I'm not going to run, I just… I'm so tired, M'gann. I…" I let out a soft laugh full of self-hatred, "I don't want to run. I don't want to lose my family again, or my life, or any of you guys. Besides, the kind of setup I'd need to do; put together safe houses, get enough food, cash, setup fake id's, try and start my life over… If I did it, it'd be too tempting not to use it. And I don't want to run."

M'gann is quiet for a while. Then she asks, "If something does happen… what would you do? Please, I need to know."

"Like if I ran away from everyone?"

"Yeah."

"I'd get out of town. Gotham is the center of everything, I'd have to leave. But not too far. No zetas, nothing related to Robin. Maybe a taxi or a train or something. I don't know. M'gann, I can't run away," I snort, "You know, for the first time in years, I can do whatever I want. There's nobody telling me what to do or where to go or what lies to tell, and instead of being free, I'm doing everything I can to bring him back."

"You need to tell Batman, or the League. This had to end."

"No!"

She jumps at the anger in my words, the terror that only knows one way to express itself.

"I can't."

M'gann is quiet for a second.

"Something happened, didn't it?"

I can feel the collar around my neck and the metal restraints digging into my wrists and knees and stomach and my fingers are tingling from being bound together. He could have changed his mind yesterday. He could have left me in the room until I died. He could have let me starve for a few days too. It would have taken at least three days for me to die of thirst. If I hadn't broken, he would have done it. I would be stuck there right now, not knowing that Slade had disappeared along with all the other adults on the planet. I wouldn't know that my teammates were fighting to bring them all back, and they wouldn't know that my life depended on them.

Keeping my face as blank as I can, I tell her, "You were right. He's using me and I can't stop him. Anything I do will only make it worse."

"Listen to me, Robin. You have to get help."

I shake my head, "I can't. We have a deal, and if I tell anyone, he doesn't have to hold up his end anymore. He'll take me and nobody can stop him."

"What if someone else went to the League for you? He would never know. The League can come up with a plan without him ever knowing. They'll keep you safe."

"Are you offering?"

M'gann pales and my stomach churns with guilt.

"I…" She takes a deep breath and then nods firmly, "If that's what you need me to do, I will."

"But they'd need to know why I told you and no one else or they'll accuse you of reading people's minds without permission," I mutter, looking at the ground. At best, the entire League would lose trust in her. At worst, they'd push until they found out her secret and she'd be sent back to Mars and Slade would come for me anyway. M'gann nods shakily, chest moving up and down rapidly. I shake my head.

"No. It means everything to me that you're willing to risk your secrets for me but I can't let you do that. I know what Earth means to you. I know what we mean to you."

"Robin, this might be your only chance. There's no way he's watching right now and we'll delete all the footage of this when it's all over. If you want to have a chance at stopping him, you have to do something now."

"I know," I take a deep breath, mind racing. The answer is obvious and painful and beyond terrifying. If Slade ever finds out I did this, he'll… But he won't find out. Ever. If this is the only thing I can hide from him, I'll do whatever it takes.

"Wally. It has to be him. I'll leave a note in his wrist compartment. It shouldn't take him too long to find it, and you won't have anything to do with it."

I stand up, turning towards the hallway that leads deeper into the mountain.

"I'll call everyone in. We need to be ready as soon as Zatanna can do the spell," Miss Martian hovers into the air and floats over to the computer console.

"I'll be back in a minute."

'Good luck, Robin,' she whispers through the mind link, flooding me with strength.

The Zeta-beam activates as I return to the briefing room. Superboy steps through, followed by Aqualad. They're both wet and muddy but they're okay. There's no sign of bleeding, at least. Artemis and Miss Martian are standing by the computer, whispering back and forth. Kid Flash waves me over to the computer and starts recapping the infrastructure damage he passed on the way back from Maine. I type notes into the computer for Batman to look over later, adding them onto the list of damaged sites the Team found earlier.

"Robin? I'm ready to try my father's locator spell," Zatanna says, approaching the computer. Aqualad nods at me. I open up the globe hologram. As it expands, Zatanna walks forwards slowly. She nods, takes a deep breath and raises her arms, pointing her wand towards the globe.

"Etacol retnecipe fo yrecros!" Zatanna cries. A red circle appears on the map.

"Coordinates locked. Roanoke Island," I announce, "You did it."

Zatanna beams and Aqualad starts to give assignments.

"It works!" a kid shouts.

We all whirl around. There's a ten-year-old standing in the middle of the cave. For a second, I think it's Tim. Aqualad stalks forwards dangerously.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" He demands.

The kid- Billy Batson- turns to Miss Martian, "Quick, read my mind!"

The Team is so focused on her that none of them hear when I start to say, "He's Captain Marvel."

"He's Captain Marvel," Miss Martian gasps.

Kid Flash rolls his eyes," Yeah, and I'm "Speedy Gonzales," Look, just because he believes he's Cap-"

Billy grins mischievously, "Gee, Wally. Do I really have to bring you nachos and pineapple juice to get on your good side?"

"He's telling the truth," I say. The Team whirls around to look at me.

"You knew?!" Billy exclaims in shock.

By way of explanation, I shrug, "Batman."

"No fair," Billy whines. Then he shakes his head, remembering why he was here.

"There are two dimensions, one for adults and one for kids! Batman and Zatara are in the cave, waiting for me to go back."

The Team lets out a collective sigh of relief, hearing that all the adults are okay. The atmosphere is still heavy, though. Billy's eyebrows lower.

"What…what's wrong?"

"There have been a great many children that we could not save," Aqualad tells him, "We have done our best, but many are still unaccounted."

Billy's eyes fill with sadness, but he nods his head in determination, "Then there's no time to waste. SHAZAM!"

Blue lightning appears out of nowhere and strikes him. He disappears.

If I'm being honest with myself, I don't want this to end. I'm not ready to go back. Klarion, the evil lord of chaos, can sense it. He knows with the first projectile throw that I'm not all in to this fight. He knows I'm an easy target. He blasts us with red lighting, knocking me and Artemis into the air. I land on the ground heavily, my head smashing against the dirt. Artemis helps me up and I can barely stand on my own. My stomach growls and my head is throbbing. Superboy is wrestling with the Klarion's monster cat, and he's losing badly. The rest of the team tries to fight back.

I'm exhausted and I can't follow who's doing what, but I can tell that we are hopelessly outmatched. The crystal in the center glows with power and then electricity is arcing out of it and slamming into me. This time, I don't get back up.

There's a blast of searing light that forces me back to consciousness. Artemis lets out a gasp and wakes up too. I reach out and we pull each other back up to our feet. Batman is back. So are Zatara and Red Tornado and Captain Marvel. The pentagram has four more wizards in it, but they're all slumped to the ground. Klarion is bound in Doctor Fates' glowing ankh, but with a snap of his fingers it disappears. He makes his escape unhindered, mocking us.

Kid Flash yells, "Aren't you going after him?"

"To what end? Klarion is chaos personified. He cannot be contained," Doctor Fate responds. I let out a groan at the pain coursing through my body from the lightning.

"Did we win?" I ask groggily.

"At a cost," Aqualad responds. We all turn to see Doctor Fate hovering in the sky, her black hair streaming behind her.

No! Zatanna!

Zatara steps forward. We watch in horror as he bargains with fate for his daughter's life. Then he sacrifices himself for her.

"Remember… I love you," he says.

Then he's gone. I grab Zatanna as she collapses, guiding her slowly to the ground. Artemis and Kid Flash appear at her sides.

It's over. In more ways than one.

"I'm glad you're safe," Batman says back at Mount Justice after we've all returned.

He asked me to come with him on the Batwing, but I refused. Batman and Red Tornado flew back to the cave alone, while we loaded Zatanna into the bioship. Captain Marvel turned back into Billy, and refused to leave her side. It was a short flight from Roanoke Island to Mount Justice, which is good because nobody was brave enough to break the silence.

I remembered the pain I felt when I was eight, watching my parents fall to their deaths and realizing they were never coming back. I remember how it felt to be totally alone and scared. I didn't think I'd ever be able to be happy after that. But it was a long time ago and I'm not alone anymore. I get to see Bruce and Alfred again.

But that's not what makes me a monster. What makes me a monster is the fact if it had just been up to me, I don't know that I would have brought the adults back.

We arrive safely back at the cave and the ship opens into the hangar. The entire Justice League is waiting for us, including Red Arrow. Black Canary is the first to come forwards. She holds her arms out to Zatanna, who throws herself into the embrace and starts sobbing. Canary leads her slowly down the hallway towards the living room to calm her down. Then it turns into a bit of a free for all.

Batman won't hug me in front of the team, but he says, "I'm proud of you," and that's almost better except for the horrible guilt and sorrow that still won't go away.

M'gann shoots into her uncle's arms, the Flash zooms forwards and grabs Wally in a supersonic hug, Artemis is detangling her bowstring from Green Arrow's quiver, which must have gotten stuck when he gave her a hug and then a noogie. Aquaman shakes Aqualad's hand firmly and they talk quietly, extreme relief on both their faces. Then Roy grabs Kaldur's shoulder and spins him around roughly and then they're… making out?!

When did that happen?!

The League goes silent for a second. Then Aquman steps forwards with a grin, holds out his hand and tells Green Arrow, "You owe me twenty dollars."

Green Arrow grumbles but gives him the money.

Wonder Woman decides that she's waited long enough. She puts a hand on Batman's shoulder to nudge (by which I mean shove) him out of the way, then grabs me in an enormous hug.

"Thank Hera you're safe."

"You too."

I almost expect a hug from Superman too, but he's not behind Aunt Diana. I turn around to look and the sight is enough to break through everything and make me smile.

"Batman!" I hiss, "Look!"

Superman is smiling nervously, his hand partially outstretched. And he's talking to Superboy. Conner looks dumbfounded, but then he has the happiest smile I've ever seen. He shakes Superman's hand and looks like he won the lottery. After a few minutes, Batman clears his throat. The crowd of heroes slowly quiets down.

"We will debrief tomorrow. For now, go home. Spend some time with your families," he pauses, "We are all very proud of your performance."

He turns to me.

"Let's go home."

The second we get into the Batcave, Bruce pulls the cowl down and grabs me in his arms. I press my cheek against his chest and close my eyes. It's over. Bruce is here.

"I was so scared," he says quietly. The absurdity of Batman being scared of anything makes me jerk out of his grip to look at his face. The lines around his mouth are pulled tight and his face is pale.

"You were?"

"One second, the whole Team was standing there and the next, they all vanished. I thought the League specifically was being targeted and that you, at least, were safe," he shakes his head, "Then Alfred called in a panic, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass, they all just disappeared and he couldn't reach your phone," he sighs heavily, "I've… thought about what it would be like to lose you. I never imagined how horrible it actually was. I was afraid, Dick. I was so afraid that I would never see any of you again."

Tears start to well up in my eyes.

"Bruce…"

"I am so proud of you, Dick. I could not have asked for a more incredible son. I know I'm not always the best father, but I need you to know that I love you. I would do anything to keep you safe."

He hugs me again and I almost break down sobbing. I want to tell him the truth, ask him for help, let him keep me safe while he and the Justice League take Slade down for good.

But the Batcave is bugged. Slade is watching. They can't stop him. I can't tell Bruce.

"We should go upstairs. I'm sure Alfred is desperate to see you."

Mount Justice

Sunday, November 4th, 2012

I follow M'gann and Artemis down the hallway, all of us carrying boxes of Zatanna's stuff. We pass the souvenir room where Wally is standing in uniform, a sippy cup in his hands. I'll have to ask him about that later. We make our way to Zatanna's new room and unload the boxes.

"My room is right next door, if you need anything," M'gann says comfortingly.

"Thanks, I, uh, could use a little alone time, okay?" Zatanna responds slowly.

"Of course," Artemis answers. She and M'gann leave. I follow slowly, but I stop in the doorway. I know how you feel, I want to say. I lost both my parents. I was alone. I'm here for you.

But the words don't come.

The door slides shut behind me. Soft sobs emanate through the closed door. The three of us look at each other sadly, then make our way past M'gann's room to the kitchen. Suddenly, there's a loud crash, then another, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor from the souvenir room. Together, we turn around and sprint to it. It's a disaster. One of the shelves is hanging off the nail, and all the other shelves got knocked out of place, sending their contents to the ground. Wally is on the floor in the middle of the pile, his arm grasping at the remaining shelf.

"Wally!" M'gann exclaims, "Are you okay?!"

The food container on his arm is open. There's a piece of paper in his hand, crushed in a death grip. He turns towards us, his green eyes going straight to me. They're filled with horror and disbelief and desperation, searching for answers or confirmation or proof or some sign that's it not some terrible prank.

I turn away.

"I'll go get Aqualad."

As I walk down the hallway, my heart is pounding with adrenaline and fear and hope. Wally knows. My life is in his hands now. I just have to trust him.

It's up to him.

Chapter Text

Wally West

Mount Justice

Saturday, November 3rd, 2012

The second Uncle Barry let him out of the hug, Wally was sprinting for his civvies. He changed so fast he thought the cast on his arm might catch fire from the friction, but he didn't care. His parents were back, and he needed to see them. Seeing the entire world separated and thrown into chaos, worrying that they'd never be able to fix it, watching Zatanna lose her dad to Doctor Fate, it was all too much for him.

How could Nabu have done that?! How close had Wally himself come to being the one trapped inside Fate's helmet, being the puppet of an illogical, impossible power inside his own body.

Wally shuddered and pulled his jacket over his shirt. He sped back to the main cave just as the zeta beam sent Artemis and Ollie to Star City. Red Tornado nodded at him and Wally sped onto the platform, waiting for the transport. The world turned a blinding white as the computer announced, "Recognized: Kid Flash, B-03."

Wally didn't waste a second when the zeta beam dropped him off inside the abandoned phone booth. He sped across Central City and zoomed to his front door, not caring if any of the neighbors saw.

"Mom?! Dad?!" he shouted, closing the front door behind him with a snap. His parents staggered out of the kitchen, holding onto each other for support. Relief flooded his body at the sight of them and a smile stretched across his face. He and his mom ran towards each other, enveloping each other in a hug that his dad joined a second later. They didn't say anything, just held on to each other. His mom's face was stretch taut with worry and the bags under his dad's eyes were darker than Wally had ever seen them. They looked like they'd been through hell. He probably didn't look any better.

Wally sat on his bed, scrolling through the news feed on his laptop. The muffled sound of the doorbell came through his closed door.

"I've got it!" Wally yelled, zooming to answer the door. The front door swung open, revealing his two oldest friends. Who apparently were dating each other and had never told him.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you two lovebirds tonight," he grinned, clicking his tongue. Kaldur lowered his eyebrows, but Roy's fist shot out, punching him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Watch the arm!" Wally whined.

"Your cast is on the other arm," Roy retorted, "Don't be a baby."

"Hurtful, Roy," Wally pouted, rubbing his arm, "Other than assaulting me in my own home, do you guys have a reason for showing up?"

"There has been a new development," Kaldur said.

"Did the League catch Klarion?!"

"No. But it is good news."

Roy rolled his eyes.

"He's dying to tell you," he said, "Don't fall for the stoic hero bit."

Kaldur grinned wickedly, "You did not seem to have a problem with the way I expressed myself when we—"

"Ew! Ew! Oh god EW! Don't finish that sentence!" Wally shouted, covering his ears. Wally's mom walked out of the kitchen, covering the phone with one hand.

"Wally, who is it?" she whispered, then uncovered the receiver and said loudly, "Yes, Mom, I'm still on the line."

Her face lit up when she saw Kaldur and Roy standing in the entryway.

"Mom, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to call you back. Love you, ok, yeah, yes you too, ahuh, yes, Mom I really have to call you back later if you're still worried tomorrow we'll call the dermatologist, ok, yes I'll give Wally your love and I'll have him call you later, love you too, bye."

Wally grinned. He loved his grandma, but Eloise Prewett could talk for hours and she didn't spare any of the gritty details. Especially about her skin conditions. Wally's mom let out a huge sigh and set the phone down before smiling at Roy and Kaldur. She stepped forwards and gave them both enormous hugs.

"Thank goodness you boys are alright!"

"I'm glad to see that you are well, Mrs. West."

"Kaldur, call me, Mary. I feel like my mother-in-law when you say that."

Roy blushed when she hugged him, looking a little uncomfortable. He probably didn't get many hugs anymore. Aunt Dinah probably tried, but Roy had been in his "I'm too cool for hugs phase" for a while now.

"I technically never left," he pointed out, "I am eighteen."

"You'll always be a kid to me," she answered, "It's one of the perks of being a mom. Besides, I remember the first time Barry dragged you and Ollie over here for family dinner. You were so cute, oh and Iris spent the entire night trying to convince Ollie to bring Dinah around the next time. I've never seen that man look more embarrassed in his life."

"He doesn't do embarrassed. He prefers to be embarrassing."

"You just wait until you're a parent, Roy Harper. Every single thing you do will drive that child crazy. I can't even go out for karaoke night without giving Wally fits."

"Moooom," Wally whined, but he was grinning. Kaldur chuckled.

"Would you boys like to stay for dinner? It'll be ready in a few minutes."

"That would be wonderful, Mrs. West."

"Kaldur, call me Mary. We have this conversation every time you come over."

"I'm aware, Mrs. West," Kaldur answered like the troll he secretly was.

"What am I going to do with you?" Wally's mom laughed, "Dinner will be ready in twenty. And don't track mud upstairs. Rudy just vacuumed."

The three of them headed upstairs, and as soon as they were in his room, Roy pressed a comm link into Wally's hands.

"Call Dick. He's going to want to be on the line for this."

"They're giving us what?!" Wally almost fell out of his bed.

"The President is awarding the three of us the Presidential Medal of Freedom," Kaldur repeated stoically, but his twitching lips betrayed his excitement.

"Dude, I'm thirteen! I'm going to be the youngest recipient ever!" Dick crowed over the comm link.

"When?!" Wally demanded.

"The ceremony is at eight am tomorrow at the White House."

"But that's not the best part," Roy pressed.

"How is that not the best part?!" Dick exclaimed.

"They didn't invite Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Aquaman or Batman."

"Just the three of us?!"

"Just the sidekicks," Roy affirmed.

"No!" Dick said.

"Yes."

"No!" Wally repeated.

"Bet you wish you were a sidekick now, Roy!" Dick laughed.

Roy snorted in response.

"The majority of the founders have already been awarded this honor. I'm sure the President would have awarded it to the League again if he could," Kaldur reasoned.

"Come on, Kal!" Dick whined.

"Yeah! Don't pretend you're not excited!" Wally added.

Kaldur rolled his eyes and grinned widely.

"I admit, I never expected this when we started the team. I believed we would fight side by side along with the League."

"We've saved the world three times now, without our mentors," Dick added.

"We're heroes in our own right."

Mount Justice

Sunday, November 4th, 2012

When the zeta beam faded, Wally stared at the cave like he was seeing it for the first time. Next to him, Kaldur and Dick looked equally shell-shocked. He'd just shaken the President's hand. They were on national television, being celebrated as heroes.

Yesterday, it had felt like the world was ending. Wally never thought that he would ever be able to say it, but the Failsafe training had actually made all the difference for him. Yes, all the adults in the world had disappeared, but there were no alien mother-ships with death canons descending from the heavens. His friends were all alive and safe. They'd had a plan. Knowing that it could have been so, so, so, so infinitely worse made it easy for Wally to focus on what he had to do. And in the end, they saved the day.

"Where is everyone?" Kaldur asked, staring at the empty cave.

Dick paled.

"Zatanna's moving in today."

The words hit like a punch in the gut. While the three of them were being recognized on national television, Zatanna was mourning her dad. Wally's good mood evaporated and his stomach tightened. Kaldur nodded solemnly, shifting the case with the medal inside.

"I must take this to the Hall of Justice. I will be back soon to help."

He disappeared into the Zeta without another word. Dick pulled up his holocomputer, looking at the security feed of the mountain.

"The bioship just arrived. They probably brought all of her stuff."

They made it to the hangar bay just as the walkway opened and their teammates emerged, all piled with cardboard boxes. Wordlessly, the two of them grabbed boxes and helped unload the ship. They worked silently, as a team, to bring all of Zatanna's boxes to her new room. Wally wasn't brave enough to look at her.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. And he was a horrible person, because every time he thought about her father, being held captive inside an ancient magical artifact and possessed by a lord of order, the only thing he could think was "thank god it wasn't me."

Finally, the bioship was almost empty. M'gann, Artemis and Dick grabbed the last boxes and started to make their way to Zatanna's room. Conner met Wally's eyes sadly, but there was some happiness behind it. Remembering that Superman had finally acknowledged him yesterday, Wally suspected he knew the reason behind it.

"Congrats on the award," Conner offered.

Wally smiled back, "Thanks, Con."

Conner threw something at him. Wally caught it and looked down at the sippy cup one of the toddlers from Central City had given him.

"You left this on the bioship. Souvenir?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Wally made his way to his souvenir room, mind flooded with memories of stranded, scared children. They couldn't save everyone. That knowledge sat heavily in his chest. But they did what they could, and Wally knew that even though the price was high, the League and the Team still wouldn't have done anything differently.

The world was safe for another day.

Wally placed the sippy cup gently on the open shelf and looked over his other souvenirs. When he'd started collecting things from missions, he never realized how many memories or how much weight they'd have. It was a little humbling. Not that he'd ever call himself humble. Wally's stomach growled suddenly. Luckily, he was in uniform. There should've still been a high-calorie protein bar in his wrist cupboard. He flipped it open and a folded scrap of paper fell out along with the bar.

"Huh."

How'd that get in there?

He bent over and picked it up, unfolding it with one hand. The writing was quickly scrawled and a little messy. Definitely Robin's handwriting. Figures. The ninja wanna-be (who actually was a ninja but that's not the point) loved pick-pocketing and reverse pick-pocketing him, just to prove that he could. Wally rolled his eyes before reading the note.

I'm being blackmailed by a mercenary named Slade Wilson a.k.a. Deathstroke the Terminator. He is always watching me. If I don't do what he says he'll kill my family. Do NOT tell Batman. Help me. You're the only one I can trust. -RJG

Out of pure shock, Wally's knees collapsed and he fell head-first into the shelves. They crumbled under his weight and he, the shelves, and all his souvenirs crashed against the ground. Wally's fist tightened around the paper reflexively. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open limply. It had to be a prank. Dick was his best friend. He'd been Robin for years. He was the first sidekick—the goddamn Batman's protégée. And son! It couldn't be true.

This had to be a sick joke or a prank.

But Dick would never lie about his family being in danger. He'd do anything for them. He'd never joke about hurting them. Dick would never in a million years lie about Cassie being in danger. But Robin couldn't be the mole. Robin couldn't be working for some evil mercenary. It just wasn't possible. Let alone the fact that Robin would never hurt anyone, Robin was always either on patrol with Batman or with the Team. And any time he wasn't, he was doing homework. There just wasn't time for him to secretly be…

But…

"Wally!" M'gann gasped, "Are you okay?"

Wally's eyes snapped to the doorway, locking onto his best friend. Robin had seen the open container on his wrist and the piece of paper in Wally's hand. Wally stared at him, looking for any confirmation or sign that his best friend in the universe was being blackmailed or tortured or was secretly working for an evil mercenary. But Robin still looked like Robin. He still looked like the hero who'd fought beside him, who'd stood at his side at the White House and accepted the highest honor that could be given to an American less than an hour ago.

Robin turned away.

"I'll go get Aqualad," he muttered. Then he was gone.

Wally stared at the empty doorway, his thoughts spinning out of control. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. He almost called out after Dick, begging him to stop, to explain himself, to burst out laughing and shout "Got you!" but the words were burned into his mind.

He's always watching. He'll kill my family.

Help me.

What was he supposed to do?!

M'gann was still standing in the doorway, watching him silently. Their eyes locked and for a second, Wally swore he could hear a whisper in the back of his mind, stoking the desperation and worry, and when he looked away, he knew one thing with absolute certainty. Dick was really in danger and somehow Wally was the only one who could help him. His heart sped up, pounding so fast that one beat became indistinguishable from the next. This was bad. This was beyond bad. Wally felt himself panicking. So, did what he always did when he was panicking.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran some more.

He tried to come up with a plan but his mind spun. Every thought he had was met with a spike of fear before slipping away and eventually he gave up on thinking. His feet never stopped moving.

"Kid, come in!"

Wally didn't stop moving as he answered the comm call.

"It's not a good time, Flash."

"Where are you?"

"Just on a run. I'm fine."

"Where are you?"

"I'm running!"

"Your mom keeps calling me, she's getting worried."

"Tell her I'm fine!"

"You don't sound fine. Kid, please. We've had enough scares for one week."

Guilt settled in Wally's stomach like lead. He tapped his chest to activate the suit's homing signal.

"See? Just running. Now can you leave me alone? Please?!"

No answer. Wally hoped that was a good sign and kept running. When he ran this fast, it was easy to forget there was anything in the world except for what was right in front of you. Or did he just never notice anything anymore? What was he supposed to do?! If Deathstroke was always watching Dick, how could Wally do anything to help him?! What if he accidentally revealed that he knew?

Would Deathstroke really go for his family? Wally couldn't imagine someone being able to get to Batman's kids, but Robin would never lie about that. The thought of anything happening to them made Wally sick.

Who the hell was Deathstroke anyway? What kind of person could successfully blackmail Robin, Batman's partner (and son!)? What kind of person did you have to be to threaten innocent kids? How dangerous was Deathstroke if Robin wouldn't even risk telling Batman?

Seriously, Batman! The World's Greatest Detective and Tactician and Fighter and Justice League Founder! What was Wally supposed to do if not even Batman could help?!

"Kid!"

Wally jumped, glaring at the Flash furiously to hide the fact that he'd scared the crap out of him. He wondered how it was possible for the Flash to have caught up when he had such a ridiculous head-start, then he realized how low the sun had gotten. The comm call had been almost an hour ago and Wally barely noticed any of the time that had gone flying past.

"I told you, I want to be alone."

"I'll go in a minute. I just wanted to check in. Face to face, you know I've never been much of a tech guy."

"Well, mission accomplished. See you tomorrow."

"Kid, wait," the Flash put a hand on his elbow and dragged them both to a grinding halt. Wally's legs shook and he realized he'd been running for almost three hours. His stomach protested suddenly but he felt too nauseous to eat. He never had eaten that protein bar in the trophy room, had he?

"Uncle Barry, I'm fine."

It sounded like a lie, even to him.

"You don't run from Mount Justice to Lake Tahoe by yourself because you're fine."

Wally crossed his arms over his chest and bit down on his lips, trying to stop the panic from escaping him. Uncle Barry knew him better than anyone. He couldn't keep secrets from him!

"Wally, you don't have to be fine, and you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I just want to know if it's just life and… you know, the mission in general, or if something happened."

The words hit too hard and the next thing Wally knew, he was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a tree while hot tears spilled down his face. Uncle Barry was next to him in a flash, crouching in the dirt with a gentle hand on Wally's shoulder.

"Wally, I'm here if you need to talk. That's my job, to be here for you if you need me. As your mentor and as your uncle."

"Stop!" Wally bit out, hands digging into his hairline, "Uncle Barry please!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop asking what's wrong!"

Uncle Barry drew back his hand and gave him a self-deprecating smile.

"Do you really want me to leave?"

YES‼‼! YES LEAVE THE WORLD IS FALLING APART AND SOMEHOW I'M THE ONE WHO HAS TO FIX IT‼! Wally almost shouted, but he couldn't bring himself to. Because now that Uncle Barry was actually here, the last thing in the universe that Wally wanted was to be alone.

"No," he muttered.

"Okay, then how about we just sit? Is that alright?"

Wally nodded, sliding over so there was room for him to sit against the tree. The silence stretched between them until Uncle Barry leaned over and said, "You know… if you're feeling so overwhelmed, we can figure something out. You're dealing with a lot right now and I'm sure we can find a way to make it more manageable."

"No, it's not that," Wally answered, rubbing tears away with the back of his glove.

"Something happened to one of your friends?"

Wally froze, heart pounding again.

"How did you—"

"It was just a guess. You took it pretty hard when I asked before."

It was always jarring to remember Uncle Barry had a degree in psychology even though he worked in forensics. Even if Wally was careful, he might still figure out everything.

"I can't tell you!" Wally snapped, "Stop asking!"

"Ok. Can you at least tell me why I can't ask?"

"Because he asked me not to tell anyone and that's the only thing I can do to help him!" Wally shouted.

"Is he in danger?"

"Yes!" Wally growled, before realizing that he needed to abort the conversation RIGHT NOW, "Please, stop asking me!"

"Wally, if your friend is in danger, we both know you're going to do everything you can to help him. Just remember, you don't have to do it alone."

Wally couldn't stop the frantic laugh that came out of him.

"Yes I do! He said I'm the only one who can help him and I don't have a single clue what I'm supposed to do! What if anything I do makes it worse?"

"Wally, what's going on?"

"I can't tell you!" Wally shouted.

"You don't have to tell me who it is, or anything about him, but I can guarantee that talking through it out loud is better than dealing with it alone."

"I can't! Uncle Barry, I can't tell you anything about what's happening. I promised!"

"So make something up."

"What?" Wally stared. Thunder roared in his ears as he looked at his mentor blankly, "What?"

"If you can't tell me the actual story, make something up that still gets the big parts across. Change as many details as you want, and maybe we can come up with something that will still help."

Wally thought about it for a minute.

"Do you promise not to read into it? If I tell you something close to what's happening, do you promise not to try and figure out who I'm talking about or anything else about them?"

"If it's about sexual assault or domestic abuse, I reserve the right to talk about it more later, but otherwise? Yes. I promise."

"I need a minute to think."

"Take your time."

Wally thought for a long time, trying as hard as he could to come up with something that would make Uncle Barry understand how bad it really was. How much trouble Robin was in… how much trouble the entire League was in if Wally couldn't fix it.

"This isn't what's really happening but just… go with it, okay? Pretend it makes sense and if it doesn't work I'll come up with something else."

"Alright."

"My friend got a job as a delivery guy at this pizza place, he makes minimum wage part time. A little while ago, his boss said he'd give him two hundred bucks in cash if delivered a package to some apartment. He thought it would be a one-time thing, but things got out of hand and now he's running drugs all the time. He wanted out and tried to quit and basically… his boss is blackmailing him. Somehow he'd gotten video of my friend dealing and said that if he tried to quit, he'd send it to the cops. And that if he went to the police or told anyone what was happening," Wally choked out, "He'd go after my friend's family."

There was silence for a little while. Then hesitantly, Barry spoke.

"It might not be feasible but if it is, he should try to get evidence together and bring it to the police," Barry said, "They can get a warrant and make an arrest in less than a day, less if they have probable cause. Even if your friend's boss is serious about his threats, he'll have bigger issues than going after one of his runners."

"He can't," Wally said, "There's no evidence. His boss is really, really, REALLY careful. And my friend was too. If he hadn't told me, I never, ever would've known he was involved with anything like this."

"Sometimes you don't know people as well as you thought you did," his uncle said sadly. Wally fought back the surge of rage. Robin was his best friend. He trusted him with his life and he'd never let him down. They even died together during that fucking simulation. If Uncle Barry knew what was really going on…

"No! He's a good person! He only got the job so he could help his... mom out. She works three part time jobs and he's got fo—three younger siblings that he helps take care of. That's why his boss made him start running in the first place; he knew my friend would do anything to help his family."

"Can his family move?"

"No," Batman and Robin move out of Gotham City?! Wally thought hard to try and explain why it was impossible, "They can't… afford to move and his mom is really tied to the city. Besides, it wouldn't make a difference. His boss has friends and contacts and from what I know, he's a dangerous guy to piss off."

"What if he just stops showing up?"

"His boss will get him arrested! Remember the whole blackmailing thing, I think I mentioned it?!"

"He was dealing drugs. Hard drugs. Whether or not it was for a noble reason, it's still very illegal. The answer may be that he needs to face the consequences of his actions. If your friend is a minor, he'll likely get off fairly easy, maybe only get a few months to a year in juvenile detention. By the time he gets out, his boss will have been arrested or worst case, have found a replacement runner and your friend can walk away. There's also a chance his boss is bluffing."

"No! He's not! And my friend really can't walk away! It's not a great metaphor, okay? If he tries to, his boss will hurt his family!"

Uncle Barry was quiet for a long time.

"If he gets the police involved for drugs, his family is in danger. If he tries to walk away, his family is still in danger. Is that right?"

"Yeah. And he wants to stop. He wants help to get out!"

"What's his boss's involvement?"

"What?"

"You said his boss was careful, but how deep is he involved in the drug ring?"

"It's his operation. He's the most dangerous one."

Uncle Barry nodded.

"He's probably making a lot of money. Even if he's careful, he's not going to just sit on it."

"How does that help?"

"If your friend's boss is investigated by the IRS after a routine audit, and it turns into an open investigation, he'll have an excuse to quit. His boss will only be under investigation for fraudulent income, which is a significantly smaller charge than operating a drug ring. He can't throw your friend under the bus without revealing that he had some level of involvement in the operation as well. Worst case scenario, if the investigation turns up cold, your friend still has plenty of time and leeway to find another job and get himself out."

"What if his boss blames him for the investigation?"

"Businesses get audited. Besides, a kid can't set the IRS on a business. That's not how it works."

"You said that's the worst case. What do you think the best case is?"

"The boss goes to prison for felony tax evasion. Nothing to do with your friend, no mention of drugs. He can't go after your friend or his family without risking a narcotics charge added to his sentence. Your friend gets out from a bad situation in one piece."

"So… the answer is to go after the boss for something else?"

Uncle Barry nodded. Wally thought about it.

If some member of the Justice League just happened to be investigating Deathstroke for something completely unrelated to anything Robin, Batman or the Team had been involved with, he had plenty of crimes to be charged for. If they built enough evidence and went in with enough preparation, they could take Deathstroke down and bring him in all at once. He'd have no idea that Robin had told anyone anything. With Deathstroke securely in prison, Robin would be safe to reveal to Batman and the League that he was being blackmailed. Best case? That was it. In the worst possible case, if Deathstroke broke out of prison, the whole League would be ready to stop him.

"Uncle Barry, you're a genius!"

Wally hopped onto his feet, but before he could speed off, Uncle Barry grabbed his wrist.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Promise me that if things get out of hand, or if people are going to get hurt, you'll get help."

Wally stared at him. Robin was being blackmailed by an enemy of the Justice League and nobody knew. Things were already out of hand.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to my friend or his family," he answered instead.

"Be careful. Remember, I'm always here if you need me but… I trust you."

Wally nodded once, then pulled his goggles over his eyes and sped away. He had one more stop to make.

"Speedy!"

"How many times do I have to tell you?! It's Red Arrow!" Red Arrow spat, returning his bow to his back. Wally blinked at the furious tone and the tension in his friend's face.

"Are you okay? Where's Aqualad?"

"What's with all the questions?"

"Uh… dude. Seriously, you're freaking me out a little. Where's Kal?"

Red Arrow sighed, scrubbing a hand over his domino mask. As he did, his shoulders deflated.

"Aquaman called him to the South Pacific. There's an illegal dolphin hunting ring that they've been chasing."

He leaned his head against the building's guard rail and grunted something Wally couldn't understand.

"Hey Red… are you okay?"

"Imsm," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I. Miss. Him," Red Arrow growled, "It stresses me out when he's not around, okay?"

"No, no, I get it," Wally said, moving to lean over the guard rail next to him, "The solo stuff is really taking it out of you."

"I'm fine!"

"I didn't say you weren't. From what I've heard, the League thinks you're doing a great job," Wally shrugged. Red Arrow looked at him sharply, a hungry expression on his face.

"They said that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think it sucks 'cause I still want you on the Team with us, but they'll probably invite you to the big kid's table any day now."

Red Arrow stared at him before breaking into a huge grin. The dramatic mood swing kind of terrified Wally.

"Uh… Roy? What's wrong with your face?"

Roy shook himself, the freaky unbridled joy fading away, "Sorry, I just really needed to hear that. So what's going on with you? Did you really drag yourself all the way out to Star just to give me a pep talk?"

"Actually, I'm following a lead."

"On what?"

"Okay, don't tell anyone."

Roy gave him a look, "Like we're usually in the business of putting our leads out on the internet for the world to see."

"Here's the deal. Flash and I made a bet," Wally lied, "He says that I can't get anywhere on a case without the League's help. And you know, resources. We're working the case separately, and if I can solve it before he can on my own, I win."

"What exactly do you win?" Roy sounded unimpressed. Wally winked.

"Speedster secret."

"And asking me for help somehow isn't cheating?"

"Nope! Technically, you're not affiliated with the League. It's a stretch, but I'm going to level with you, I picked a bad case for the bet. I need any help you can give me."

"Alright, sure. What do you have?"

"There was a murder in Central last week, a really, really, really low level rogue. Snart didn't give a shit about the whole thing, that's how low this guy was. It happened outside this bar, they had security of the guy right before it happened. He clearly knew who'd been hired to take him out, and you can see that he's saying "Deh," I pulled a list together of the mercenaries I know that have Deh in them. Can you just dig around, give me a rundown on what they've been doing recently?"

"That's your lead?"

"Are you going to help me or just make fun of my shitty detective skills?"

"Fine. Give me the list."

"Here."

"Deathstroke, Deadshot, Deadpool, Deadline?"

"I put them in reverse alphabetical order."

Roy snorted.

"Okay, first of all? Deadpool is a comic book character."

"...I knew that."

"And the others… give me a couple days."

"You're the best, Roy! And please, please please please please don't tell anyone! I don't want the Flash to call the bet off!"

"You're absurd."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, sure. Promise."

"You're the best! But seriously, call me as soon as you figure it out."

Bruce Wayne

Wayne Manor

Sunday, November 4th, 2012

"On behalf of the government of the United States of America, I present the Presidential Medal of Freedom to Aqualad of Atlantis, Kid Flash of Central City and Robin of Gotham City in recognition of their unprecedented efforts to ensure the safety of America's children in times of extraordinary stress. This medal is being awarded on behalf of every child who stepped forward to help in any way they could, from supplying emergency medical assistance to providing infant care, to acting as a community organizer and caring for those who could not care for themselves.

"I cannot applaud the children of America enough, nor can I commend them strongly enough for keeping calm and working together to protect each other.

"In these times, it is so easy to act as an individual. It is so easy to forget those around you and only think about yourself. It is a pattern we see every single day, and it can be frightening to know that this is the example that we set for our children. Today, I think we need to look at things a little differently and follow the example that our children have set for us.

"In the middle of a crisis, they stood together. They protected each other and they worked together. Instead of reacting out of fear or anger or hatred, they acted out of love. It is because our children stood together and found innovative solutions to an unfathomable crisis that we are reunited. Moving forwards, we cannot forget their example.

"This award is presented with not only gratitude but with tremendous respect as well. These young heroes are the representatives of a truly remarkable generation, and if we as a country can follow the example they have set, then the future is in very good hands. Thank you."

The army of photographers unleashed a storm of camera flashes, illuminating the three young heroes standing shoulder to shoulder on the stage. Aqualad stared ahead, the picture of stoic confidence. Kid Flash beamed, his body vibrating so fast he appeared blurry on the screen. Robin stood on Aqualad's other side, chin held high and standing proud. The President stepped forwards and shook each of their hands, starting with Kid Flash. When he got to Robin, he said, "Thank you for your service," and the crowd of half a million people erupted into cheers. Then he handed the open case containing the medal to Aqualad in the center and ten-thousand cameras went off again.

Watching his son and his teammates accept the award, Bruce had never been prouder. Cheers came from the kitchen, and he turned off the tv in his study. Following the sound, he found Jason sitting at the kitchen table, grinning wildly at the muted screen. When he stepped into the kitchen, Jason's eyes went wide and he quickly switched the channel to the news, pretending he hadn't been watching the ceremony. Bruce shook his head fondly, tousling his son's hair.

"It's okay to support your brother, you know."

Jason looked scandalized, "I have no idea what you mean."

"I'm proud of you too. You did an excellent job with your siblings and opening up the manor to those children was incredibly responsible and heroic."

Jason blushed, but when he turned back to the tv, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm glad you're back," he said, still looking at the tv.

"I'm glad you're back too."

Jason unmuted the tv and the newscaster continued her story out loud.

"Thanks to the combined efforts of the Justice League and their partners Aqualad, Kid Flash and Robin, the two dimensions have been recombined," Iris West-Allen announced, "The suspects responsible have been taken into custody and will be brought to Belle Rev penitentiary to await their respective trials. In the meantime, President Obama awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom to the three junior heroes, along with a short speech commending the efforts of our nation's children to maintain safety and order throughout this ordeal. We here at Central City news would like to commend everyone who stepped up yesterday, especially Central City's own Kid Flash.

"In related news, billionaire CEO of Wayne Industries and adopted father of five, Bruce Wayne announced today that he would be providing compensation for businesses that had supplies taken from them during the crisis. This followed a twitter post from the sidekick Robin encouraging children to, 'take what they needed' in urgent situations. Wayne stated that he absolutely supports the actions taken during this crisis, and that he is just grateful to have his children back."

"Quite right, Master Bruce," Alfred said as he entered the kitchen, passing Bruce the newspaper along with a wriggling Cassie. She planted a big, watery kiss on his forehead, then snuggled down in his arms, pulling at the buttons of his suit jacket.

"Hey princess," he muttered softly, running his fingers down her silky black hair, "I missed you," a blonde blur slammed into him, throwing her arms around him too.

"What about me?" Stephanie demanded and Bruce scooped her up in his other arm. Bruce smiled down at her and pulled her closer for a hug.

"I missed you too, Stephanie."

"More than you missed Cassie?"

"I can miss more than one person at a time," he told her wisely, barely resisting the urge to grin. Barely.

"But you missed me the most, right?" she was very insistent about it. Stephanie loved being the center of attention, especially when it came to her siblings. Considering how well they all got along, Bruce didn't think her narcissism was much of an issue.

"I missed all of you the most."

"That's not a real answer."

"Tell twuth!" Cassie chimed, flopping backwards so that Bruce had to catch her with his left hand before her head hit the floor.

"I believe Master Bruce is telling you the truth," Alfred informed Cassie and Stephanie, "I for one missed you all terribly."

Stephanie latched on to him in a big hug, "I'm glad you're back. Dick left us alone the whole time. We had to eat cereal for dinner."

Bruce looked at Alfred in sudden alarm.

Was that true? Dick wouldn't have left them alone, he must have checked in to make sure they were ok. Alfred's face tightened and he looked away without responding. Bruce had no idea what that meant.

"You love cereal," Jason rolled his eyes at her, "I told you to have a banana."

"Bananas are gross and they're not even pretty."

"They don't have to be pretty. You're going to eat them," Jason answered, crossing his arms.

"Uh, duh. That's WHY they have to be pretty. I don't wanna put something gross looking in my mouth."

Tim raced into the room, panting lightly, "Is Dick back yet?!"

Bruce pulled himself out of his thoughts and shook his head, "The ceremony only just finished, Tim. I'm sure Dick wants to spend a little while with the Team too. It's a big day for all of them."

"I think it's great that they didn't even invite you," Jason grinned as he tore into a piece of toast.

"Are you jealous?" Stephanie asked innocently.

"No. They earned it."

"Would you be jealous if they invited Superman?" Jason pressed mischievously.

"No. Superman is the face of the Justice League."

"What about Green Arrow?" Tim joined.

"They didn't invite Green Arrow."

"But if they did?"

Bruce sighed.

"If they didn't invite Batman, Aquaman, the Flash, Superman or Wonder Woman, but they did invite Green Arrow, then yes, I would be jealous. Is that what you want to hear?"

Jason snickered, sliding his phone under the table while typing furiously. He looked up with an innocent and cheerful expression. Bruce sighed.

"You got that on video, didn't you?"

Jason nodded his grin widening.

"Who did you send it to?"

"Aunt Diana and Uncle Clark and Uncle Ollie. And Roy. I didn't want him to feel left out."

"How considerate of you. Remind me again why I bought you a cell phone?" Bruce muttered while Stephanie started singing, "Roy and Kaldur sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

His phone vibrated. He checked the message without disturbing Cassie, who was happily climbing up his arm.

'How are the kids?'

'Safe.'

'Thank god. Are you ok?'

'Yes.'

A brief pause.

'We need to talk. Tonight.'

'Where?'

"The Opera House. 11.'

'I'll be there.'

"Catwoman," Batman said as she appeared behind him.

"This is nice," she purred, gesturing at the roof around them, "Clear night, starry sky, tall, dark and brooding Caped Crusader. It reminds me of that night on top of Cartier's."

"When you stole Queen Victoria's emeralds. I don't remember that night nearly as fondly as you do."

"We had a nice moment. Besides, as far as the emeralds go, I put them back," she shrugged, turning around to look him in the eye coyly, "Eventually. I even gift wrapped them."

Batman's stare bore into her. Her smile widened.

"Fine, handsome, I admit it. I didn't gift wrap them. But I did put them back in one piece. Well, I mean, two pieces."

"And the rest of it?"

"From Cartier's?"

"No. All the rest of it."

Catwoman paused.

"I told you already. I brought it all back. Rightful owners, of course, and that is not easy to do in the art world."

"Why make the effort?"

"Why make the effort to return the art that I stole from basement collections and black market dealers to the families who it had been stolen from in the first place, sometime around the Nazi invasion and occupation of France?"

"I… admit that was a stupid question."

"No, it's okay. I know what you meant," she looked up, one perfect eyebrow raised and a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes, "You're just mad about the Fifth Avenue displays."

"You said you were done stealing."

"Oh for Bast's sake, I don't know why you were so upset. They were all fakes. Completely worthless!"

"Then why did you bother to take them?"

"They were nicely made. I can appreciate a good fake, especially with that publicity stunt about fooling the world's top diamond experts. Besides, I wanted to play with their micro-vibration laser grid."

"That's not why."

Catwoman's grin turned rueful.

"No. It's not. Batman, I'm serious about what I said. I really am done. But that itch… I have to scratch it somehow and taking the displays is good enough. I'm not taking anything anyone will miss."

"You just need to prove that you still can."

"Wouldn't you? If you hung up the cape tomorrow, you'd find a way to stay in the game somehow. Maybe you'd start throwing punches in "self-defense," maybe you'd start giving "anonymous tips" to the GCPD, even sign up as a civilian consultant. But you couldn't give it up entirely."

"No."

Catwoman snorted.

"You're agreeing with me. What does it say about the state of the world that that's not even the craziest thing to happen to me this week? And that's me personally, I'm not counting the world's children being briefly sent to an alternate dimension."

"What was it then?" Batman couldn't resist asking.

Catwoman turned, shrugging her shoulders casually in a way that did nothing to hide her nerves.

"I got a job offer. In person, from Danika Mathers herself, head curator of the Gotham Museum of Art. She wants me to be their official security consultant. Catwoman. Sent a messenger through the Underworld channels and everything."

"Security consultant?"

"Yeah. She got this idea about using a great thief to catch other thieves and somehow convinced the board it was a good idea. I wish I had a video, it was… a little bit adorable. She thought she had to convince me, play up the threat of low-level idiots who don't know what they're doing damaging the art. Even if I hadn't been in the business for a career change, it was very flattering and…"

"And?" Batman prompted, not quite letting himself dare to hope but the words had too much promise to resist.

"And I'm going to take it."

Batman inner monologue came screeching to a halt and he could only blink at her in shock.

"You are?"

She took a deep breath. Batman blinked at the realization that she was scared.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About us."

The pang in his chest hit hard and he forced the feelings down, enough to get the next words out. Batman remained silent, keeping a tight lid on the hope stirring inside his chest. He couldn't get ahead of himself, couldn't ignore his responsibilities.

"Selina, it's… this isn't a good time. There's so much going on with the League and work and the kids and Dick's been going through a lot and I can't do this to them."

Selina grimaced, but didn't break eye contact.

"It's never a good time. That's how life works, especially our lives. Bruce, I feel ridiculous saying this out loud but you make me happy. Me, the crazy thief who runs around the rooftops in a leather catsuit," she cut herself off, shaking her head with a helpless look frozen on her face. She exhaled, letting her hands drop, "Bruce, Catwoman has been who I am for a really long time. I thought my life would be, well… this. I was happy with that. The planning, the prep, the highs, the chase. At this point, I don't really know where Catwoman stops and I start.

"If you'd asked me a year ago even, I never would have thought that I could. But I've been thinking. A lot. I want you to know that no matter what your answer is, it won't change my mind. I'm going to stop. Not that I've been doing much stealing these days anyway, but I'm giving up all of it. The mask and the whip too. Maybe not forever, but long enough to figure out who I am if I'm not just a thief in the night. And I'd like to figure it out with you."

"Selina…"

"This isn't a one-time offer, and it doesn't have to be zero to a hundred either. We can just take it slow, see… I swear to god, why are you making that face at me?"

"Because I want that too."

"You do?"

Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yes. I really do. But—"

"There's always a but."

"But, it's not just up to me."

"The kids?"

"It has to be alright with them."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Selina smiled gently.

"I don't know that they'll agree and I won't do anything without their permission. All of them," Bruce warned.

"Dick's never been my biggest fan," Selina agreed, forcing out a laugh through a tight smile.

"He's having a hard time right now. His whole team is, since the disaster simulation gone wrong."

"Bruce, I know it won't be easy, but I'm willing to fight for this. For you and all of them. If they give me a chance, I won't let them down."

"I know," Bruce's thumb tapped against his index finger. Almost no one on the planet except Selina would recognize it as his version of a nervous gesture, "Dinner."

"When?"

"Wednesday. At the Manor. I'll introduce you to everyone. Officially."

"I'd like that."

Batman grunted in agreement.

"So."

"So…" Selina purred, and when she caught his eye the grin was pure Catwoman, "I was thinking… how about one last teamup before I put the costume away?"

"It is early enough for a full patrol," Batman answered.

"Lead the way, handsome," Catwoman purred. Her fingers interlocked with his and she leaned in, lips resting against his face, "On second thought…"

She pressed a kiss on his cheek and took off for the nearest rooftop.

Batman was smiling as he followed her.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Lexxon Mobil Plant

Thursday, November 8th, 2012

'First two relays active,' Artemis reports over the mind link, nearly an hour and a half after we touched down at the Lexxon Mobil plant outside of Pittsburgh. There's a lot of things that haven't been adding up since Lexcorp acquired the company, especially the fact that this is one of three plants that hasn't had a full inspection in years and everything related to the plant runs on an unbreachable internal network. Normally, it wouldn't be a League matter, but there sure are a lot of armed guards for a crude-product refinery and, oh yeah, it's Lexcorp. So here we are.

'Mine too,' Superboy says exactly forty-two seconds later. One at a time, the relays interface remotely with my holocomputer. A dark server room really isn't the best place to hide but I have to be here to physically connect to the intranet. It's stressing me out that I can't have the interface and security cameras up at the same time, but my team is on high alert. Miss Martian is camouflaged and she's standing outside the door to make sure nobody sneaks up on me.

'My relays are in place,' Aqualad reports. A green light on my screen confirms that they're online. Just one more.

'That's the last one!' Kid Flash cheers. As soon as the light turns green, my fingers are flying across my computer screen to start the data-dump.

'Robin, status?'

'All the relays are online. As soon as the download finishes, we'll be able to monitor the whole system remotely.'

'Time to completion?'

'Five minutes,' I make sure the download is going smoothly and switch back to the camera feed Artemis planted during the initial infiltration. I can see Aqualad on the factory floor, documenting labels and taking pictures of the crates. Everyone else is out of sight of our cameras, but I have a good view of the security teams making their rounds through the building.

'Good. Miss Martian, stay with Robin. Superboy, Artemis, return to the bioship but alert us to any changes in guard activity. Kid Flash and I will cover your exit. Rendezvous at the bioship in ten minutes.'

'Copy,' we all say together.

'Uh, guys? I'm pinned,' Kid Flash says.

'Where are you?'

'I'm under the packaging line.'

'The what?'

'The big machine with the giant oil drums on it! There's two guys right next to me! If I move, I'll blow our cover.'

'Robin, can you finish the download?' Miss Martian asks.

'Yeah, I've got it. You go help KF.'

'Hold tight, Wally, I'm on my way.'

'Be careful,' Aqualad warns. I don't have any sightlines from the security feed and I hate not knowing what's happening. I can still see Aqualad, but that's it. No sign of KF or Miss Martian.

'Superboy and I are at the bioship,' Artemis reports, 'We're ready if you need extraction.'

'Hold your position. Robin, how much time is left?'

'Three minutes, Aqualad.'

'Wally, I'm going to knock a shelf over. Be ready to move,' Miss Martian says.

'Ready whenever you are, beautiful.'

I can't hear it from the server room, but the camera closest to Aqualad catches the shelf on the far side of the factory spontaneously collapsing. The guards whirl around, then laugh at each other for jumping and walk over once they see what happened.

'Now!'

There's a blur of yellow as Kid Flash streaks out of his hiding place and sprints toward Aqualad and the exit.

'Kid, look out!' Aqualad shouts over the mind-link. On my holocomputer, I see Kid Flash just barely stop himself from crashing into the low pile of crates hidden along the factory floor. At the same time, I see a new wave of guards approaching.

'Incoming!' I pull a birdarang out to get ready as soon as everything goes sideways. If they sound the alarm, the chances are good that I'll have to fight my way out of here. But somehow, Aqualad pulls KF into an alcove for cover seconds before the trio of armed guards come around the corner. I hold my breath, but they just walk over to where the other guards are inspecting the ruined shelf. There's a lot of waving and gesturing, but it's quiet. Everything is quiet. There's no alarms, no blaring lights, nobody busting into the server room with guns blazing.

'We're clear.' Aqualad tells us. I can feel Artemis and Superboy's relief through the mind link. Or maybe it's mine. The next forty seconds are still the longest of my life.

'Download complete!' I pull the cable out of the computer and retract it back into my glove.

'Copy that. Everyone, return to the ship.'

I disappear into the nearest vent. After that close call, I don't need to be told twice.

"Data received. We have full access to the system. Return to the cave and… good work," Batman says.

"Thank you. We're returning to the cave now."

"Good. Canary will debrief you when you return. Batman out."

We sit in stunned silence for a few seconds. We did it. We were in and out without blowing our cover and now we're on our way home. We're safe here on the bioship.

And somehow, I'm even more anxious than I was when we were on the ground. I spent the entire mission waiting for something to go wrong, like when Wally almost ran into the crates in front of all the guards, and then we'd have to fight our way out. But no. The hammer never fell. I've been a hero since I was eight, and the one thing I've learned is that the hammer ALWAYS falls. Something always goes wrong.

"Thank god you saw those crates, Kaldur, or else Wally would have tripped on them and we would have been toast!" Artemis' sudden laugh shatters the silence.

"I think Kaldur deserves a round of applause," Conner adds. Everyone starts clapping, and the best I can manage is a small smile while I pull up the screen to start the mission report. Kaldur chuckles good-naturedly as the clapping dies down.

"Hey, I think I should get a round of applause too," Wally proclaims, leaning back in his chair. M'gann raises an eyebrow at him.

"For what?"

"There were eighteen vending machines in that place. And, despite the rampaging hunger in my stomach, I valiantly clung to my mission as I bravely and nobly passed up all opportunities for food."

The team grins back at him and Wally winks at me. Suddenly, I feel sick. We shouldn't be joking around right now. What if it was a trap? Why doesn't anyone else see that this is too good to be true? Something's going to go wrong, or maybe it already did and we don't even know it. We have to be ready!

"Yeah, I think he deserves a hand," Artemis admits, and then there's a second round of applause. I type even faster, trying to lose myself in the mission report. The plant gets farther away and my team celebrates in the background. Going over the mission details helps to slowly loosen the tightness in my chest. Maybe it's not a trap at all. Maybe we really did it; our first successful covert infiltration.

The trip passes quickly and it feels like the bioship only lands in the cave a few minutes later. Everyone is still laughing and congratulating themselves on a job well done as we grab our gear. As we walk down the hallway, Wally has one arm around my shoulder and the other around M'gann, happily regaling us with the near miss and the way the guards' armor reeked as they passed by his hiding spot. Artemis and Conner are comparing notes, each insisting that their role was more vital to the mission.

"I'm just saying, anyone could have staked out the perimeter, infrared scanner eyes or not."

Conner snorts, "I could have planted the cameras just as easily as you did. Actually, it'd be easier for me."

"Oh really?" Artemis raises an eyebrow.

"I can throw anything faster and harder than you can shoot through a bow," Conner says matter-of-factly. Artemis laughs and I can see the lewd joke on the tip of her tongue but before she can respond, Kaldur steps in.

"We must not fight amongst ourselves, especially over a matter as inconsequential as value to the team," then he grins, "Because as team leader, my job is more important than both of yours."

"Burn!" Wally cheers, high-fiving the Atlantean.

M'gann laughs and Wally cheers Kaldur on the whole way. I can feel myself starting to smile for real.

We enter the kitchen together, caught off guard by the loud noisemakers and applause. I let out a startled laugh when I see the League's handiwork. Superman, Flash, Green Arrow, Black Canary and Wonder Woman are proudly wearing party hats, while Red Tornado holds a hat in his hand as if he isn't quite sure what to do with it. The entire kitchen is covered in streamers and confetti, with a giant banner stretched across the wall reading, "First Successful Covert Mission! (It's about time!)" Several tables have been pushed together and piled with bowls of candy, cheese puffs, pizza boxes, and a large chocolate cake.

"Sweet!" Wally exclaims, pumping his fists into the air. He's the first to grab a plate and starts loading it with as many slices of pizza and cheese puffs as he can fit. Kaldur and M'gann are right behind him, struggling to extract a slice of pizza while he zooms around the table. I cut in front of Conner, who shakes his head at me but steps back to give me more room.

"C'mon, Kid Mouth! Leave some food for the rest of us!" Artemis complains, and incredibly, Wally obliges.

"Sorry!" he garbles through a mouthful of food before running over to the couch. Somehow, he manages to keep the huge pile of food from falling off his plate while moving at super-speed. It's impressive. The rest of us follow suit, grabbing plates and loading up on pizza, cheese puffs, Oreos and cake.

"Nice work team," Black Canary smiles, reaching for a bottle of soda, "Zatanna also asked me to pass along her congratulations."

"By our calculations, this level of success was inevitable," Red Tornado adds, probably trying to be encouraging.

"I knew you had in you," Green Arrow grins cheesily, patting Artemis on the shoulder as she extracts a massive slice of cake, "You're doing your old uncle proud, kid."

Artemis rolls her eyes, amused by his insistence on the whole "niece" story but also glowing with pride.

"Thanks, GA."

"Alright, well you kids have fun. I've got some business back home to take care of," Green Arrow waves at us, kisses Black Canary on the cheek, and heads for the zeta beam. Superman watches him leave with a way too amused look on his face.

"Huh. Usually, he's the last one to leave the party. Of course, there is usually alcohol," Superman observes with a grin. Wonder Woman swats him on the shoulder, "Ow! What was that for?"

Plate in hand, I make my way over to the couch. Without saying anything, M'gann and Kaldur slide over to make room for me and I plop down on the empty seat. I throw my feet up onto the coffee table and let out a real smile.

"I gotta say, this is pretty asterous."

"Robin, get your feet off the table," Superman scolds as he walks by and I move them without thinking. M'gann giggles when Wonder Woman smirks and puts her feet up where mine just were. She quickly removes them as Superman turns around, sitting up innocently with her slice of cake.

"Yes, Kal?" Wonder Woman meets my eyes and winks. I can't help but smile back.

"Are you all on duty this tonight?" M'gann asks as she pops a Milky Way bar into her mouth. I grin wider when I see the logo on the side of the packaging. Who knew Martians liked Mars-brand candy? There's a gentle press on my mind as she reaches out through the mind link.

'What's funny? Was I not supposed to ask that?'

'Ask what?' Wally demands, suddenly alert and battle ready. Next to him, Artemis and Conner look up from where they're playing Operation with strangely cut pieces of cake.

'Milky Ways are made by Mars Candy. Miss Martian is eating Mars bars,' I answer.

"Oh," KF says out loud, causing the adult superheroes to look at him. He shakes his head uncomfortably, "Sorry, I just… uh… thought of something funny?"

I stare at him while Artemis rolls her eyes and whacks him on the arm. What was that about?

"Real clever, aren't you?" she teases.

'Oh yes. That was quite amusing.' Kaldur deadpans. I glance at him over my left shoulder, but he hasn't missed a beat in his conversation with Superman about the League's plans for expansion.

'Kiss up.' I tease.

'Very mature, Robin.' Kaldur answers.

'Hey, I'm thirteen. I get to be immature.'

'Excuse you!' M'gann frowns over the mind-link before grinning mischievously and telekinetically nudging Wonder Woman's cup off the table. The Amazon immediately reaches for it, but Superman exclaims, "I got it!" and lunges forwards, accidentally managing to knock into the cup with enough force to send it shooting across the room. It smashes against the wall in an explosion of red plastic and orange soda.

'You can be immature at any age,' M'gann sniffs like she's been grievously offended. I catch her eye and grin while Wonder Woman stands to clean up the mess and makes Superman get her a new cup of soda. I swear, they're basically married. Better not say that in front of Lois Lane.

Eventually, the table runs out of food and Conner and Artemis run out of ways to mutilate a cake so everyone migrates to the couches.

"So, are you two planning to take a turn as our Den Mothers?" Wally asks. Wonder Woman and Superman look confused.

"I thought we'd stopped rotating League members since you brought Tornado back."

"The assistance has proven itself to be welcome. I find it very informative to understand different parenting styles," Red Tornado answers. Wonder Woman thinks for a second with a big smile on her face.

"Well in that case, it does sound like a lot of fun. If you all have a week to dedicate to training, I can set up a traditional Amazonian gladiatorial challenge."

"I'm not sure what I could teach you that would be worth your while, but I'd be honored to spend some time working with you all," Superman says. He looks at Conner sheepishly, "That is, if you'd all find it helpful."

Conner smiles at him reassuringly. I guess that means things are going pretty well there. Good job, Uncle Clark!

"Now that their missions are going smoothly, the Team needs some new challenges," Canary laughs, "You two don't have a choice."

Wonder Woman laughs and throws her hands up.

"We've been outmaneuvered."

"You know, I don't even remember the first League mission that actually went according to plan," Superman says.

"That's because it's only happened about three times total."

"That's not how Batman tells it," I grin.

"What does he say?" Artemis asks.

"There's two ways every mission happens; either the plan fell apart as soon as it started because some Leaguers got ahead of themselves and didn't listen to him, or the original plan was stupid anyways and everything worked out exactly the way he said it should've in the first place."

Everyone laughs. Superman shakes his head and Wonder Woman rolls her eyes.

"He does like to be right but I'm really just waiting for the day that one of you two trips over your own cape," she says.

"I do sometimes," Superman admits, "I just start flying to catch myself and make it look like I didn't."

"And that's why I don't do monkey suits," Conner crosses his arms over his chest.

"Well, it's too late for me. If I changed my costume, the public would go crazy. I tried for a little while with a, uh… summer look? I got petitioned into changing it back."

"Really?" M'gann asks.

"If I'm not mistaken, didn't a certain reporter start that petition?" Kaldur asks slyly, knowing the full story. Superman sighs and Canary makes a cough to hide her giggle. Wonder Woman looks delighted.

"Kaldur, somehow I always forget just how devious you can be!"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Kaldur shakes his head in false innocence.

"Well, now you have to tell the whole story," Wally says, leaning forward.

"I'm sure nobody wants to hear it," Superman waves it off. I lean forward, grinning at him while dropping my voice to a whisper low enough that only he and Conner can hear.

"Well, you could always tell them about that time with the fox in the barn roof."

Superman coughs into his soda, quickly putting down his cup and clapping his hands together.

"So, it all started with a conversation I'd had with Lois Lane, she's one of the reporters at the Daily Planet I've worked with quite a bit, and we were talking about my costume. I'm not sure how it happened, but she convinced me to take a bet that the, um, well, she called it "underwear-on-the-outside" was holding public opinion of me down. And I should've figured out it was a setup before this, but she'd found a new costume designer that already had a new version of the suit ready, and…" Superman blushes, face turning red, "Nobody ever believes me that I was in on the joke, but really, I was. You should've seen this thing it was…"

Wally and I snicker and Kaldur grins. Canary and Wonder Woman are holding it in, but they're doing a terrible job disguising their laughter as coughing. Superman finishes his story to thunderous laughter, and then Canary trades stories with Wonder Woman about costume malfunctions they had. Like the time Canary's heels melted during a fight with a lava demon and that was when she switched to combat boots.

"But you were wearing heels before?!" Artemis demands.

"It was a bad choice; I freely admit that now."

"Oh, you should've seen the fishnets," Wonder Woman exclaims. Canary turns on her.

"Like you've never worn something ridiculous into battle!"

"Hey Canary, remember that time you pulled Flash's cowl off by his lightning rods?" Wally exclaims, putting his fingers to the sides of his head, "That was amazing! He's still not over it!"

"We were sparring, and I won that fight fair and square."

"You guys should've seen his face!"

The conversation devolves pretty fast from there. Around eight, Dinah gets up to throw her plate away.

"I hate to say it, but Monitor duty calls. I'm really just so proud of you guys. We'll do an official debrief next week, alright?"

"That is perfect. Thank you, Canary," Kaldur answers for all of us. Dinah smiles and disappears to the zeta tubes. As she leaves, Wally clears his throat and starts telling the story of how he gave himself a bloody nose trying to vibrate through a wall. It's one of his best stories, mainly because the Flash freaked out over it and instead of just telling him what happened, Wally pretended that he'd gotten hurt fighting an escaped supervillain and got dragged around Central for three days looking for an invisible, undetectable escaped convict.

Midway through a vivid description of his particles colliding with the wall, my phone vibrates. I toss my plate onto the table and pull it out.

'8:45 sharp. We have a job'.

My stomach drops through the floor and my blood turns to ice. For a second, it's like I'm still trapped in the Haunt.

You are mine. Everything you have is something I have given you, and I can take it all away.

Slade's words ring through my ears. It's been a week since everything changed and all I've done is pretend that it's all the same. But it's not.

I can't go back. That's crazy! A few days ago, he locked me in a dark room and starved me until I did whatever I had to just to make it stop. He wants to control me. If I go, that's what he'll do! What kind of crazy person would even consider going? I should just delete the message and stay here with my team and Wally's ridiculous stories.

I can barely get through the thought before my stomach is twisting in terror and my heart is racing. Slade drugged me and dragged me back to the manor while I was unconscious. He broke into my room and nobody, not even Batman, knew he was ever there. He only let me out because I promised to do what he said.

If I break our deal, nowhere is safe for me.

Or my family.

Before anyone can see, I press the home button and the message disappears. I glance at the time and shudder when I see that it's almost eight. I turn off my phone and put it back into my utility belt. Fear pricks at my stomach and I can feel hairs rising along my arms. The first time I went on a job with Slade, I took a bad hit to the head and missed the part where he killed someone to keep the scientists safe. Who knows what might happen this time?

"Um…Robin?" M'gann's hand lands on my arm, the touch so soft I barely feel it, "Are you alright? I wasn't trying to pry, but you just started radiating worry."

Her eyes meet mine and there's real fear in them. I let out a frown and run a hand through my hair, trying to come up with a decent excuse to say in case anyone is listening, "It's a disaster, heavy on the dis. I just got a reminder that I have an English paper due tomorrow and I haven't even started it yet."

But mentally I tell her, 'He wants me for a job.'

"That's the worst! Oh! Hello Megan!" she hits her palm against her forehead, "There's a bunch of computers in the library. You could go work on it there! Then you can stay and hang out with us when you finish."

'Tell him you're with the League! Official business you can't get away from.'

I shake my head, "Thanks, M'gann, but I have all my notes at home. I should go."

'I have to go.'

'Dick, no. You can't!'

'I don't have a choice. You don't understand what he'll do to me if I don't.'

M'gann nods at me, but her face is tight with discomfort.

'Be safe. Please.'

I swallow the lump in my throat instead of answering.

"You're leaving?" Conner asks, interrupting Wally in the middle of his story.

"Wow, Conner, it's not like I was in the middle of a…" he suddenly processes Conner's words and turns on me, eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Wait, you're leaving?!"

He saw the note. Even if he hasn't said anything yet, he knows. He knows about Slade and judging by how weird he's been acting today, he's been thinking about it a lot. Pretending innocence, I shrug unhappily.

"I just remembered that I have an essay due tomorrow. You know how strict Bats is about grades."

"Ugh, dude! You have the worst timing!" his eyebrow is raised way too far and I know he knows I'm lying. I hold my breath. As long as he doesn't make a big deal, no one else will suspect anything. As long as nobody notices M'gann looks like she's about to cry. Finally, he shrugs.

"Guess I'll have to finish your cake then."

I let out the breath I'm holding and some of the tension drops out of my shoulder. I was right to trust him. He won't let me down. Everyone waves their goodbyes and I head for the zeta room. It's probably just my imagination, but my footsteps echo off the cave walls even louder than usual. My heartbeat pounds in my ears louder than usual too, and every step feels like I'm walking to my doom. My hands are shaking by the time I make it to the zeta beam.

I don't want to do this, I really, really don't want to do this. What would Slade do if I bailed? Or if I sent him a text along the lines of "I don't care what you do to me, I'm done" and just disappeared? Which would he start with, kidnapping me or posting identity-revealing pictures all over the internet to ruin Bruce's and my life? I pause at the console to input the activation codes to send me to the Batcave, where I'll drop my stuff and make my excuses to Alfred. The thought of that twists my stomach. I hate lying to Alfred.

"GRRRRRRR!"

I jump, whirling around and dropping into a fighting stance.

"Jesus, Wolf!"

Wolf is right behind me, lowered down and haunches raised like he's about to pounce. Conner's pet is almost four hundred pounds of pure muscle, claws and teeth. And right now, he's looking at me like I'm dinner.

"Whoa, Wolf, easy," I put my hands up. Don't panic, don't panic. The first rule of dealing with big, dangerous animals is not to show fear. Wolf lets out an even louder growl and steps forward. I fight all of my instincts not to turn and run for it.

"Wolf, stop," I make the command as sharp and confident as I can. Wolf stops, but he's standing between me and the zeta tube and he's ready to pounce. My hands are still raised and I take a careful step forward. Wolf bares his teeth so I stop.

"Easy, easy, Wolf. What's wrong?"

Is there a threat? Something he noticed that the rest of us missed?

My phone chimes again and I glance down at it without thinking.

'Happy Harbor is not Gotham.'

Oh shit. I have to go NOW!

Wait a second.

How does he know where I am?

Wolf growls and lunges at me. I dive out of the way but as soon as I land, he's on top of me again. He snaps up my phone in his mouth and two massive paws push me to the ground. Hitting the floor knocks all the wind out of me and Wolf is sitting on top on me, using most of his body weight to pin me down. My phone is caught in his jaw, but his hind legs are sitting on my calves and one paw is on my back. He's keeping enough of his weight off me that it doesn't really hurt, but I'm stuck. And he has my phone.

With the texts from Slade still open.

Shit.

Shit!

SHIT!

"Wolf! Get off! OFF!"

Wolf snorts and whines softly. Even though he just scared the shit out of me and decided I'm his new favorite cushion, the aggression is gone. He seems almost... hurt.

"Give me back my phone!"

He whines again, bucking his head.

'M'gann!' I think as loudly as I can, hoping she can hear me from the kitchen. 'Help!'

Nothing. Shit‼

I trying to push myself up, but he growls and scratches at my back. Twisting around as far as I can, my hand barely scrapes his arms and my phone is far out of reach.

"Wolf, get off!"

The weight on my legs is starting to hurt and I can't twist myself free. I can hear my phone buzz in Wolf's jaw and the screen lights up again. I can't read the text, but this is bad. This is really bad. I'm not going to be able to get Wolf off me without help, but if I call for help, my whole team plus several Leaguers are going to come running. They're going to see my phone, and they're going to be able to read all the messages Slade sent me tonight, and my cover is going to be blown. But if I don't get Wolf off me, I'll be late getting to the Haunt. Slade will be beyond furious and a furious Slade is something I never, ever want to deal with. I get an idea, a desperate one. Bruce is going to be pissed about me deliberately destroying my phone but if the League finds out about Slade… if Slade finds out that I accidentally let the secret out… this is an emergency.

"Wayne Tech override, RG8, ISD activate."

Nothing changes on my phone screen. I can't really tell. It's a bad angle and Wolf still has it clamped in his jaw.

"Wayne Tech override, RG8, ISD activate!"

The screen goes dark except for the Wayne Tech logo and a blue loading bar. After a few seconds, the screen turns off completely. Thank god. The internal self-destruct will permanently wipe all the data, turning the phone into a useless brick of polymers and glass and circuitry. I'll have to get a new phone, but I only lost the stuff that wasn't backed up, so only a few days' worth of texts. Worth it.

"Conner!" I shout, "Get your giant dog off me!"

Wolf growls but there's no heat behind it. I stick my tongue out at him because at this point, that's all I can do.

Thanks for the heart attack, you massive wall of fur.

"Conner! CON‼ Conner!"

"Robin? Are you…? Hey no! Wolf, OFF!" Conner grabs Wolf around the middle and hauls him off me. Wolf whines and scratches but the massive weight on my legs is gone.

"Are you alright Robin?" Uncle Clark is there, his hand outstretched to help me up. His eyes are wide with real worry and it's kind of freaking me out to see him in family mode while he's wearing his uniform. I let him pull me onto my feet before dusting myself off.

"Yeah, no I'm fine."

The rest of the team comes running after, standing around watching but with Superman standing between me and Wolf, they're not sure what to do.

"What happened?" Kaldur demands.

Everyone is looking at me, but I'm watching Wolf. Conner is holding him around the middle, making sure he can't attack anyone else. Wolf whines, scratching at the ground and nipping softly. He tries to pull away, whining and huffing in my direction but he doesn't look angry or threatening. He hasn't since he grabbed my phone, which is still clenched in his jaw.

"I think my phone scared him. It went off and Wolf jumped me," I lie. Everyone's eyes go to Wolf's mouth and they all seem to notice my destroyed phone at the same time. Artemis winces. Aunt Diana is the one to pry Wolf's jaws open to grab it. Wolf lets go easily but as soon as she has the phone, he starts barking. My stomach freezes but nobody's looking at me right now.

Aunt Diana hands it back to me apologetically.

"It appears to be very broken."

I wince, "Yeah."

"Dude, that sucks!" Wally grimaces.

"It's fine. It's just a phone, I can replace it," I shake my head, and my back aches when I move, "Ow. For the record, that was not fun."

Conner scowls at Wolf, but the expression changes to sincere apology when he looks at me, "I have no idea why he did that, Robin, I'm really sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Well, how do we know Wolf isn't just going to start jumping people all over the place?" Artemis demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She's got a point," Wally says, "That is one sandwich I want no part of."

Everyone looks at him and he stacks his hands in midair to demonstrate, "You know, floor, giant Wolf and speedster pancake right in the middle."

Wolf lets out a loud, mournful whine.

"You planning to explain yourself?" Conner asks, unimpressed. While Wolf starts to howl, M'gann locks eyes with me. She tilts her head to the side and blinks at me, three times in rapid succession.

Mind link established.

'What happened?' M'gann whispers in my mind.

'I think Wolf knows. He tried to stop me from leaving.'

'So your phone…'

'Had texts. Very incriminating ones. I had to wipe it.'

'Dick…'

'I don't have a choice M'gann.'

'There's always a choice.'

Even in my mind, her voice is soft but strong. She's so sure that the answer is that stupidly easy and it makes me mad suddenly. Furious.

'Fine. Then I'm choosing the thing least likely to get everyone I love brutally murdered in an effort to manipulate me.'

'Dick, please! You know that's not what I meant.'

'Are you going to tell them?'

'No! I promised I wouldn't.'

'Then trust me, this is not the time to take a stand.'

"As much as I want to get to the bottom of this, I still have to go. My essay isn't going to write itself."

When the blinding light fades, I'm standing in an empty Batcave. Batman went on patrol an hour ago and probably won't be back until two in the morning. Maybe later.

I move towards the closet where I keep my uniform. I quickly change into my clothes, pulling my now-useless cellphone out of my utility belt. There are bite marks all along the case and a tiny crack in the screen. Bruce is going to know I used the self-destruct code, but hopefully he won't read too deeply into it. Especially with the obvious signs of Wolf having used it as a chew toy.

I head up the stairs into Bruce's study, careful to move the grandfather clock back into position behind me. There are six huge stacks of paper on Bruce's desk and suddenly I'm very glad that I don't actually have an essay due tomorrow. As much as tonight is going to be miserable, that's one good thing.

"Alfred?" I call as I leave the study and head down the main hallway towards the garage. There's no response, so I shout, "Alfred!"

"I hope you realize there are children trying to sleep upstairs, and they would greatly appreciate your use of a quieter voice," Alfred appears at the top of the stairs.

"Sorry, Alf. I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out for a while."

Alfred looks surprised, "It's nearly eight-thirty. Where could you possibly be going at this time of night?"

"I'm going to hang out with Babs. We had to push back our last hangout because she had a gymnastics exhibition and she's been saving a bunch of clips for her superhero documentary that she wants my opinion on," I lie, cannibalizing the last conversation Babs and I had into a plausible excuse.

Alfred stares at me, his face doubtful. Finally, he sighs "Very well. But I expect you home no later than eleven-thirty."

"No problem! You're the best, Alf!"

I rush towards the garage, grabbing my motorcycle keys off the hook and climbing onto the bike. I rev the engine and set off for the Haunt before I can change my mind... or lose my nerve.

"Ahem," Alfred clears his throat behind me and I stop short, nearly crashing into a wall.

"What?" I ask, trying to keep my face calm even though my stomach is starting to churn. Alfred holds up my backpack, stuffed with folders and completed homework.

"I finished everything," I tell him, panic turning to confusion.

"Take it with you," Alfred says, "Master Bruce will not be pleased if an impromptu sleepover results in yet another day of late assignments."

"I'll be back before 11:30," I remind him. Alfred hums and holds the bag out.

"Indulge me. And give my best to Miss Gordon."

I reach for the bag and freeze. It would be so easy not to take it, to say I changed my mind and want to stay in tonight. It would be so easy to ask Alfred not to let me go, to tell him the truth about Slade.

But I can't. I just… can't.

I sling the backpack over my shoulders and start for the garage again. I hesitate at the door and look back. Alfred is still watching me, face carefully blank, posture unassuming. My throat tightens. My stomach drops.

"Good night, Alfred."

"Drive safely."

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

The Haunt

Thursday, November 8th, 2012

I drive through the partially opened garage door and park against the wall. The garage is empty except for two half-dismantled cars, but the lights are on. The garage door closes itself behind me with a heavy whirring sound. I take off my helmet and place it on the seat of my motorcycle as the office door opens. Slade walks out, dressed in his full uniform minus the black and orange mask.

"You were almost late," his frown is set on his face like carved stone. My stomach tightens and my pulse jumps.

"I'm two minutes early!"

"What happened?" he makes the casual question sound like a demand.

"I got caught up with the Team but I left as fast as I could."

He stares at me, his eye moving over my face and I try to meet his gaze without flinching. Finally, he nods his head at his office.

"The doors are unlocked. Go get dressed and meet me in the office."

He steps to the side to let me hurry past him into the fake office, through the hidden closet door and down the hidden staircase. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, putting a hand on the keypad that unlocks the heavy metal door. Right now, I might know that the passcode is 8551947, but he could change it. He has all the power on the other side of the door. If he decides not to let me out again, I'm trapped.

But for now, if I listen to him, I'm okay.

I pull open the door and weave through the identical hallways of matching doors to take the shortest path to my room. The light turns on automatically when I open the door, revealing the same tiny room with a single dresser against the wall and a small mirror and the twin bed with blue sheets against the back wall. The door snaps shut behind me.

Home sweet home, or something like that.

Renegade's uniform is laid out on the bed. I take a deep breath and get changed. The pants are a little looser than my Kevlar uniform, but there are pouches and hidden compartment all the way down the legs. The chest armor is heavy and the extra padding makes my arms feel bulky and awkward. The mask is the worst part. It's a domino mask but it's spikier and wider than my usual one and the mask glue is sticky and pulls at my skin when it dries. The fabric sits weirdly and changes the whole shape of my face. When I look in the mirror, I don't recognize myself.

I just see a monster.

My gear is spread out on top of the drawers. I load the projectiles into the pockets on my hip and tuck the assortment of knives into hidden compartments down my legs. The sharpest looking one goes into a pocket on my waist for easy drawing. The electric bo-staff clips into the pocket in the back. It's easier to load the smoke grenades than it was last time, but after I get them secured I realize something is different.

There's no grenades. That better be a good thing.

I do one last sweep for missing gear that isn't grenades and everything else is in the right place. There's no more stalling. I only have so long before Slade gets pissed at me.

One last deep breath.

I don't want to do this.

The door to Slade's office is open. As I walk in, Slade asks, "I'm sure you're up to date on all your vaccinations?"

"I know you've seen my medical records," I answer, coming to a stop in front of his desk where there's a stack of rolled blueprints waiting, "Why?"

"You're probably aware that there is a widespread outbreak of Dengue in Africa, South America and parts of Central America?"

"Yeah. We talked about it in biology."

"And what did you learn about it?"

Uh… crap, what did Dr. Phillips say? We were just talking about it a few days ago. OH!

"It's projected to spread exponentially into Mexico and parts of the South this season, especially in areas with high mosquito populations."

"That would be correct. There are currently two drugs in development for Dengue treatment, and both regimens are incredibly expensive. Most insurance providers won't cover them, and the disease could become a pandemic. Hizer pharmaceuticals developed the first vaccine for Dengue that has been approved by the FDA. It's projected to hit the market in less than a month and is expected to make enormous profits. However, the company is suspected of replacing the results with fraudulent data and altering the samples that were sent for testing. We need to procure samples of the untampered vaccine for resubmission to the FDA. I'm sure I don't have to explain the number of lives at stake if a fraudulent vaccine is released to the public."

"No," I exhale, feeling almost all the tension drain out of me. I was expecting the worst, but this mission is a good thing. It's not about hurting anyone, it's about protecting innocents from greedy corporations. I can do that, "What do I have to do?"

Slade gestures to the blueprints laid out and starts explaining.

"There's an offshoot utility building just inside the back gate. That's your entry point into the service corridor which runs beneath the entire building."

He outlines the path, making sure that I know what turns to make and where I need to go once I get into the actual building.

"The best entrance to the security office is through the ventilation system, which you'll access through the basement level supply closet. The surveillance system is on a closed network, so everything you do can be caught on camera until you directly access the hard drive. Once you disable the cameras and security measures, you're going to make your way up to the third-floor laboratories. The samples are in the cold room in the back of the lab, in a locked case."

He holds up a roll of fabric and sets it on the table near the blueprints. I look on in confusion while he unrolls it, but it turns out it's just a set of lockpicks.

"Make sure you are wearing gloves at all times. Do not leave any fingerprints. Do not break anything. Do not spill anything. If you are careless enough to spill anything, absolutely do not touch it. The lab is full of compounds that are highly corrosive, flammable and in some cases toxic. Be careful, do you understand?"

I nod. He rolls up the lockpicks and hands them to me. I tuck the roll into a pocket at my hip.

"If all goes according to plan, there's a fire escape at the north-side of the building on every floor. If that isn't an option, all but the central staircase lead to the ground floor. We'll adapt as necessary if the situation arises."

I hesitate, "Do you think it will?"

"If worst comes to absolute worst, your safety is a priority. I'll be in a position to intervene if it becomes absolutely necessary. Just focus on your mission. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

He leaves without another word and it takes me a second to realize I'm supposed to follow. I catch up to him back up in the garage, where he's loading equipment into a light grey van with a generic power company logo on the side.

"Gear check," he says without looking.

"What do I—"

"Is your armor on correctly?" Slade says slowly.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

My throat closes.

"Yes sir," I squeak.

"Projectiles?"

"Yes sir."

"Are your knives stored properly?"

I nod.

"Smoke grenades?"

I swallow, nodding while my hand goes to the protected pouch where the grenades should be.

"Um, Slade?"

"What."

"I don't have grenades."

"Correct. Let's go."

Something in my stomach unclenches, and I don't know if it's from relief that I didn't fuck up or if I'm glad he's not making me blow something up. Slade slides open the van door, loading up the last of the equipment and nods at the one of the seats. I throw my gear in and climb inside, then he hands me a stack of folders.

"Look over the blueprints until you've memorized them. The rest is to keep you busy. Buckle up, it's a long drive."

The van pulls to a stop and I look up, my heart pounding. We're parked in the middle of the road, but all I can see are trees in any direction.

"Where are we?"

"Two minutes out. Get your gear on," Slade pulls out a laptop and sets it up on the seat next to him. While I double check my arsenal and readjust my gear, he types lines of code, "I'll be monitoring the security network and tracking your progress while you're inside. Here. There's a pocket on the collar for the mic to fit into."

He hands me a black earpiece and a tiny round mic. I put the mic and earpiece in and look at Slade for confirmation.

"Test."

His voice is right in my ear and my stomach tightens.

"I can hear you."

"Good. Your mic is online. Are you ready?"

I take a deep breath.

"Yeah."

He closes his laptop, pulls a windbreaker over his uniform, and turns on the engine. The rest of the drive passes in an instant, and then the woods clear away to reveal a short driveway up to the Hizer property. The van pulls to a stop just inside the service entrance, blocking the security camera's view of the tiny utility building. Slade turns around, handing me a bump key and a matching hammer. I climb out the passenger side and head for the service door, pushing the key into the lock and pulling it out one notch before hitting it with the hammer. It takes two tries to get the lock pins to line up, but the door finally opens. I toss the devices back into the van. All the locks are specialized from here on out, so they're just empty weight.

"I'll be at the rendezvous point," Slade says over my earpiece. I nod and slip inside the building. The walls are lined with electrical boxes and pipes labeled "water" and "steam" run the length of the building. There's a hatch in the floor that leads to the service corridor.

I pull up the trapdoor and pause. Darkness. Electrical buzzing. Dust motes.

There's no one down there.

I climb down the ladder and pull a flashlight out of a side pocket. It's cold and light reflects back at me off all the metallic pipes and electrical cages lining the catwalk.

"This is creepy," I tell Slade, shuddering at the sound of my boots against the steel walkway.

"Three hundred feet. Wait for my signal when you reach it."

The buzzing from the generators is louder down here and the sound sends shivers up my spine. I miss the night-vision lenses in my mask. I miss my holocomputer. I miss being able to track the motion sensors and security feeds and knowing exactly where the bad guys are. I'm totally blind right now except for Slade's voice in my ear.

"Stop," Slade orders.

The corridor keeps going for at least another half mile, but to my right, there's a metal door.

"The supply closet is the fourth door on your left around the corner. There are no active guards on this floor, but the security cameras are all online. Use extreme caution."

I take a deep breath and push open the door. Bright light comes streaming in and my heart skips a beat. The hallways look exactly the same as the ones in Wayne Enterprises. For a second, I almost think I'm in the wrong building, but a directory hanging on the wall dispels that.

"Get moving!" Slade barks and I jump. I click off the flashlight and make my way around the corner, keeping my face turned away from the cameras. The closet is right where he said it would be, and the vent is on the far wall.

I climb over brooms and mop buckets and pull the grate off before climbing inside. Slade went over this part before, so he stays silent as I make my way through the maze of air ducts on memory alone. There's no vent big enough for me to fit through to get into the office, so I climb out the top of the ventilation shaft and into the actual ceiling. Wires and tubing run along the top, while the plaster tiles are thin between the sturdy support beams. I hold my breath as I lean over and pull out a tile.

It lifts out of the frame easily. I set it to the side and glance into the room. A lone security guard sits at her desk, absently reading a magazine in between glances at the security feeds on her computers.

"Knock her out," Slade orders over the com-link. Saying a silent apology to the poor guard who's just trying to do her job, I drop onto the carpet silently and creep along the back wall until I'm right behind her chair. I dart forward and hook my left arm around her neck. At the same time, my other hand locks onto the pressure points in her neck and upper back. She lets out a surprised yell but the grip only takes a second to knock her unconscious.

Guilt sinks through my stomach like a stone.

Grinding my teeth to stay focused, I push her swivel chair to the side and open the security system. I click on the icon for the cameras and a popup demands a password. God, I miss my computer gauntlets. I open up the computer code and start breaking through the encryption.

If Slade would just let me use a prewritten virus the system would already be unlocked. Instead, I have to sort through lines of code manually, break through firewalls and open backdoors in the system one at a time. Finally, I get access to the cameras and set all the input feeds on a loop and delete the footage of me walking through the hallways. Another wave of guilt rolls through my stomach. I push it aside and keep working.

All the laboratories have three passcode locks, and the interior storage has a voice-recognition code. With administrative access, I can send a ping through the system that will give me all the current passwords. The problem is, it will send a notification to everyone with administrative access that the request was sent, and they'll know they were hacked.

"You don't happen to know the passcodes, do you?" I ask Slade over the comm as my fingers fly across the keys, more to distract myself from the gnawing guilt in the pit of my stomach than any expectation that he'll actually have them. Shockingly, Slade doesn't answer. He definitely knows them, but he's going to make my life harder.

Asshole.

Overloading the encryption isn't working, so I decide to try something else. If the programmers used the right formats, it won't work, but sometimes programmers get lazy. I send a cascading request, that will send retrieval requests into the system, tying up the processor. It's basically the computer equivalent of asking for something until whoever you're talking to gets so fed up they give it to you to make you shut up… or at least, that's the basic idea. A string of numbers appears on screen and I can't stop the grin that spreads over my face. Perfect.

Now I just need the other two.

With the codes written on a paper safely stowed in a hidden compartment, I make my way upstairs. Slade doesn't say anything the entire time, but I can hear him typing on his laptop over my comm link. Knowing he's got control over the security cameras and intranet network makes me feel better about walking around in the open, but that also makes me feel so much worse. He's got access to the entire company. Everything they have. Anything they're working on. Company memos, private emails, confidential documents, he can take whatever he wants thanks to me hacking the system open. Does he even need the vaccine? Was that just a distraction the whole time?

"On your left. First door," Slade says, snapping me out of my trance. The lock takes about ten seconds to pick, and then I'm inside the Late-Stage Development Lab. The room is empty of people and full of neatly organized benches and fume hoods, which makes my life a lot easier because I don't have to navigate through a maze. The cold storage unit is in the back of the laboratory, behind half a dozen lab benches and giant ultracentrifuges that look like washing machines.

I thought a chemistry lab would be… I don't know, more evil-sciencey? I definitely didn't expect it to be so cluttered.

There are also a bunch of refrigerators lining the walls. Low-tech, grungy, ordinary fridges. I definitely wasn't expecting that. My curiosity itches, but I resist the urge to open one and look inside. The less stuff I touch, the better. The door to cold storage has a voice-operated lock, but apparently, they also use a regular old lock after-hours. I pull out my lockpicking set again.

Eighteen seconds. I'm getting slow, but I'm not going to tell Slade that.

"The voice-recognition lock is still online," I tell Slade.

"Hold your communicator to the mic," he orders. I pull it out of my ear and hold it up, and whatever Slade does works because the red light turns green and the lock disengages.

"There should be an insulated case on the lab bench next to the door."

"Got it," I say. I pull open the door to cold storage and a blast of freezing air shoots out. I flip the light switch next to the control panel. A bench is piled with transport containers, in case anything temperature sensitive needs to be moved between labs. There are eight locked shelving units arranged in rows.

"Where are the samples?"

"Open the first storage unit on the right," Slade says.

After a few seconds of fiddling with the lockpicks, it swings open.

"Okay."

"Look for a case marked with today's date and read the label to me."

I pull out the box with the right numbers and open it. There are three rows of tiny tubes stored in the case, neatly fit into holes so that only the raised cap is visible. Each of the twenty-four caps has the same printed line of numbers.

"Good. There should be three rows inside the case. Take one microfuge tube from each."

I open the transport case, and I see the same rows of holes, with cooling packs lining the interior. I move the three tubes and close the case, locking it tightly.

"Got it."

"That's all you need. The car is under the north-side fire escape. Don't let anyone see you."

Making it to the north-side utility door without being seen is easy. But when I try the door, but it won't open. Tugging on the handle doesn't help. At all.

"It's locked," I say, trying not to sound frantic. There's no lock to pick on this side, just a flat sheet of metal.

"What?" Slade asks. His voice is low, not betraying any emotions but I know shock when I hear it and if Slade is surprised, I'm screwed.

"It's locked!" I hiss, pulling the handle again.

"There's a side stairwell to your right that leads down to the loading dock. Those doors can't lock automatically. Be careful."

Okay. Don't panic. Don't panic.

I start moving again, heart pounding. The hallways is fully lit and I've never felt more exposed. Every shape out of the corner of my eye makes me jump, every sound—especially the steady beat of the air conditioning—sends another bead of sweat down my back. I can't get caught.

"Stop!" Slade orders, and I trip over myself mid-step. Before I can ask why, I realize that the air conditioner isn't running. Those are footsteps. My grip around the case tightens and I fight back the urge to start sprinting for the exit.

"Whoa, hey! Stay where you are!"

I whip around and my blood freezes. There's a security guard pointing a gun at me.

I don't think. One hand grabs the gun away while the other snaps his wrist back. I hit the magazine release with one hand and the bullets drop out. Then I swing the (disarmed) weapon into the guard's temple, dropping him to the ground like an anvil in The Loony Toons.

SHIT. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

"What do I do?!"

"Keep going to the loading dock. There are going to be more guards. If you have to engage, take care of them as quickly as you can, understand?"

"When you say more guards, how many are you talking?"

"Move!"

Shit. He doesn't know.

I grab the case off the ground where I dropped it, throw open the stairwell door, and charge down two flights of stairs. I'm halfway down the third flight when the door flies open and a team of security guards charges into the stairwell, weapons drawn.

"There he is!"

"Stop!"

"Shit!" I pivot mid-step and charge through the nearest door. The team of guards is right behind me and I need to get somewhere that I have a chance to take them by surprise.

"Left!" Slade orders as I'm sprinting through an intersection, and my shoes skid on the ground as I change directions and run down a new hallway. The hallway opens up into a receptionist area with desks, chairs, tall bookshelves and a light switch.

"Thank you!" I hiss into my comm link as I hit the light switch and the room turns pitch black. I grab a stapler off the desk and duck behind it. Nine guards run in after me, flashlights at the ready. I pull out my bo staff and throw the stapler.

It hits one guard in the head and I jump out from behind the desk. The staff makes contact and drops the first guard while he doubles over from the headshot. Guards two and three go down quickly, and even four is an easy takedown even though she had a few more seconds to realize she was under attack. Five through nine are ready for me, and eight even managed to set off the alarms.

Five on one. Easy.

I really hope this company has good health insurance because I hit them hard. Not like it's bad enough that I'm breaking, entering and stealing, but now I also gave a bunch of people who were just doing their job concussions. I run for the stairwell again, and the alarms are really going off now. By the time I make it to the main part of the building, my ears are pounding from the noise.

"Get out now!" Slade orders with an unexpected urgency. I'm still a few turns from the exit point, and my heart is in my throat while I sprint. I turn the corner and head towards the bridge overlooking the enormous main lobby two floors below.

"I'm in the loading zone. Get outside and you're clear," Slade says as the door comes into view. I just have to cross the bridge and I'm out. A wave of relief crashes over me. Sixty feet to freedom.

I run for it.

A loud whistling sound pierces the air and an arrow lodges itself in the floor by my feet. I stop dead, partly from instinct and mostly from shock.

"Going somewhere?" a horribly familiar voice asks. The wave of relief becomes a typhoon of absolute panic. My throat closes and my legs turn to stone.

No.

No, this isn't happening.

Green Arrow steps out from behind a decorative pillar, putting himself firmly between me and the door.

"I didn't think so," he looks at me curiously, "Are you new? You look new. Interesting color scheme, especially since Halloween was last month."

NO.

I've never thought of Green Arrow as a threat before. He's always just been Uncle Ollie, the fun one who says stupid stuff to make people laugh. He's the one who pretends to get offended by something Mrs. Miriam says so Bruce and I can escape a party unnoticed. He's the one who lets the Justice League poke fun at him and laughs it all off. He's the one who's terrified to lose his son, the one who would do anything to get Roy talking to him again.

But now, he's never looked scarier.

The Green Arrow in his full glory is man armed with laser focus, perfect aim, and a military grade compound bow with enough drawing force to put a projectile though steel. He has decades of combat experience, an arsenal of trick arrows, and a huge size advantage over me. Worst of all, he was the one who taught Black Canary how to fight. And she can still kick my ass with her eyes closed. But right now, Green Arrow isn't just the threat standing in my way. He's the threat that can pull my entire world down around me if he beats me. Or worse… recognizes me.

And one-on-one this isn't a fight I can win.

I tighten my grip on the case, palms sweaty beneath my gloves. I can't even ask Slade for backup, because if I say anything, Ollie will recognize my voice. I'm just praying that Renegade's uniform is enough of a disguise he never puts it together.

"Any chance you want to do this the easy way? You give me that case, take a quick trip downtown and I make sure the judge knows this was just a misunderstanding, how does that sound?"

"Don't say anything," Slade says, like I needed any help to figure that one out.

"No? You sure?" the Emerald Archer asks.

What do I do? What the hell do I do?!

Green Arrow sighs and looks behind me as he says, "They never take the easy way, do they, Artemis?"

Artemis?! SHIT‼

I whirl around, expecting to see an arrow pointing at my face—expecting to see my friend aiming an arrow at me—but the hallway is empty.

Then something slams into me from behind, throwing me back and knocking the case out of my hands. The thing wraps around my arms and down my legs and I hit the ground. My arms are bound to my side by a bolo-arrow, almost the same kind as the ones Batman uses.

"That one gets 'em every time," Green Arrow laughs, "Sorry, kid. It's just me tonight."

He crosses the space between us and bends down to pick up the case.

"Hm…"

He clicks it open and looks inside, "You know, when most criminals are starting out, they go for valuables. Jewelry, money, that kind of thing. Art, if you're into that," he snaps the case shut and sets it back on the ground, "Not sure how stealing a commercial vaccine sample is going to make you any big bucks but it's your life, I guess."

He moves back towards me and I know I only have one chance. My hand closes around the knife in my waist compartment and I turn the blade up. I rip the knife up as hard as I can, pushing off the ground with the other hand, and miraculously, the blade cleaves through the bolo. How that worked, I have no idea, but it did and I can still get out of this mess.

Green Arrow reacts right away, reaching for his bow, but I don't give him a chance.

A knife is not my weapon of choice against him, but it'll take too long to switch it out for my bo staff. I dive towards him, slashing out with my right hand. He uses the bow like a staff and blocks my attack. My left hand grabs the bow and I duck under his strike, using my knife to slash through the drawstring.

"Hey!" Green Arrow shouts, and then his foot snaps up to kick me in the stomach. I stagger back, gasping for air loudly to distract him from the fact that we changed positions and the case is behind me now.

"Nice trick, kid," he glares at me, clutching his broken bow in his left hand. I'd feel worse if I didn't know he had another forty back in the Arrow cave. The case might be in reach, but he's still standing between me and the door. I don't have much time before backups shows, either more guards or the police and my window to escape closes.

My earpiece crackles as Slade says, "—smoke gre—ade—."

That's it. I just need to get one good hit in.

I rush forwards, bringing the knife down in a slashing motion. Green Arrow whips his bow into my hand, knocking the blade away. He steps through and swings the bow down at my legs. I bring up my leg and stomp down, holding the bow in place.

My right hand is burning from being smacked with the carbon-fiber bow, so I pull back my left fist and punch him right in the jaw. Before he can react, I sprint for the case and grab it in one hand while the other reaches for the pocket at my hip.

"Don't move," Green Arrow growls. His crossbow is loaded and aimed at my chest.

I raise my hands directly in front of my body, partially so he can't shoot anything out of my hand and partly so he can see what I'm holding. The case is clenched in my left hand, and in my right…

A grenade, with my thumb on the pin.

Green Arrow's eyes widen as he inches back. His hands start to raise.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! You don't want to do that. You really don't want to do that, kid."

I move my thumb, just enough so that he can see, and his hands fly up.

"Okay! Look, I'm putting this down. Just take it easy."

He slowly sets the crossbow down on the ground, keeping eye contact with me while one hand stays out in front of him. He slides the crossbow along the ground, away from both of us.

He stands up again slowly, keeping his hands out in front of him. Slowly, I inch towards him, eyeing the door.

He glances back and shakes his head at me.

"If you try to run, we'll find you. Wherever you try to go, we can track you down. It's not too late to do the right thing, kid."

"The exit is compromised. Get out through the front," Slade orders over the earpiece and I stop walking.

Green Arrow notices, and too late, I see him looking at my ear.

"Whoever you're working for, you've gotta know it's not worth it. You're making a mistake," Green Arrow says, and suddenly I feel like laughing. Yeah, no shit Ollie.

I glance down at the lobby floor.

One shot.

I pull the pin and throw the smoke grenade. Green Arrow throws himself back, taking cover before the cloud of smoke erupts. At the same time, I run for the railing of the bridge and grab it with one hand, swinging myself down and letting go.

I fall ten feet and roll when I hit the bridge below. Then I take two steps and launch myself over that railing, falling to the lobby floor and sticking the landing. My boots absorb the blow, and I sprint for the door without checking to see if he's behind me.

I burst through the front door and sprint for the van waiting in front of the building, side door hanging open. I throw myself in and the second I touch the seat, Slade floors the gas. Tires squeal as the van tears out of the parking lot, through the gate and onto the main road.

"Stay down until I say so," he orders calmly as the van hurtles down the road towards the highway. My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding so hard inside my chest that it hurts. My body aches like I just sprinted a marathon and the guilt feels like getting hit by a freight train.

What does a heart attack feel like? It has to feel better than this.

I only realize I've been staring blankly out the van window when Slade pulls off the highway and cruises down a stretch of back roads through the woods. The van jerks to a stop and I jump.

"Stay here."

"Where are we?"

"At the drop," he turns around and holds out his hand, "Give me the case."

I look down and realize I still have a deathgrip around the handle of the storage case. I pry my fingers off and hand it over to him. When he takes it, I feel numb. Everything I did tonight was to get that case. I punched Uncle Ollie in the face and almost blew my cover for it. And now that Slade has it, it hits me that I don't even really know what it is or where it's going. Or who it's going to.

"Renegade! The plates," Slade snaps, and I jump out of my thoughts. He's pointing to a box next to me that flips open to reveal a set of matching Connecticut license plates. I hand them over and he nods at me, "This won't take long. Don't move."

He gets out of the van, taking the mystery case and the new plates with him and slamming the door shut behind him. Being alone in a getaway van, wearing the uniform I used to break into a building and assault about a dozen security guards and steal private property, and sitting in almost complete silence is too much to handle. What's Slade doing? What if this drop was a trap? What if the whole mission was a setup? What if Ollie recognized me and the League is on their way right now? Are we already doomed?

My heartbeat races, my palms sweat and my mouth feels dry. It's not a heart attack, but when all I can do is sit and think about everything that might be going wrong, I'm not that far from a full panic attack. Listening hard I can almost hear voices in the distance, and after a while I see a flash of headlights as another car turns and disappears into the night.

When Slade opens the door and climbs into the driver seat, I almost fall over with relief. He throws the old plates and the fake power company decals onto the seat next to me. Then he turns on the engine and before I know it, the disguised van is back on the highway headed back to Gotham City.

"…What did I do wrong? How did I mess up?"

If Slade is annoyed by the question, he doesn't show it. Instead, he shakes his head, "You did everything right. I'm very impressed. Sometimes things just get out of control and all you can do is improvise."

I should stop there. I shouldn't push my luck. Instead, the next question slips out.

"I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"No. The guards are all fine, just unconscious, and at worst you gave Arrow a black eye."

I let out a breath and it feels like a billion pounds lifted off my chest. Slade turns to look back at me and his mouth pinches into a thin line.

"Focus on bringing your heart rate down. I want it to sixty by the time we get back."

I take a deep breath and nod.

Just breathe in and out.

I can do that.

When we pull into the garage, Slade turns the car off. I follow him into the Haunt, exhaustion creeping in. Was it really six hours ago that I was in Pittsburgh with the Team? The exhilaration of completing a covert mission is totally gone, replaced by dread and guilt.

Slade pauses when we step through the office door.

"I know you're exhausted, so we'll go over your performance in more detail next time. For now, good work. Get changed and go home. If you want to sleep here, I'll send a text to Wayne for you."

"No! No thank you!" I stumble over the words. Before I can make my escape, my mouth decides to let out a face splitting yawn. Slade gives me a look and crosses his arms. My stomach sinks.

"Go to bed."

"No! I'm fine to go home!"

"I'm not asking," Slade orders, his tone dark. Goosebumps erupt down my spine, "In the morning, you can drive yourself to Barbara's apartment and ride the bus to school with her."

My feet freeze, a thousand and one protests on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth is glued shut.

"Now."

"But—" My voice cuts off as soon as it starts when Slade glares at me and my entire body goes cold. At my sides, my hands are shaking and my throat suddenly feels drier than the air in the Arctic Circle.

"You did very well tonight, so I would prefer not to have to punish you for disobedience, especially when you know better. Don't you, Renegade?"

His voice constricts around my chest like a snake, squeezing my lungs and making my heart pound. My palms are sweaty and it's a sudden, horrible reminder that terror is a physical thing that holds you in place while your imagination starts screaming all the most horrible things it can come up with.

"Yes sir," My voice shakes.

"Give me your phone," he orders.

"I… I can't."

The temperature of the room drops five degrees.

"What did you say?"

"I… I don't have it," I say slowly, fighting to get the words out through the waves of terror.

"You don't have it," Slade repeats. Disbelief colors his every word and that's as bad as if I had actually lied to him, "Don't move."

With the way my entire body freezes, I couldn't disobey even if I wanted to. He strides over to the other side of the room and picks up my backpack, roughly digging through the pockets and opening compartments in a furious search. He pulls folders full of notes and homework out and slams them onto the desk with a loud "whap!" My notebooks follow, then my pencil cases, then my disguised utility belt from the bottom compartment, then my headphones and wallet and all the various junk and debris I've assembled. I watch in terror while he rips through it, and for all that it's an invasion of privacy, he doesn't care about anything he's pulled out so far. He throws the backpack to the ground with a frustrated growl and turns on me. I flinch back violently, heart pounding.

"Where is it?"

"It broke! In the cave, right after you texted me! It's completely busted so I left it at home!" the words rush out of my mouth.

"And how exactly did it break?"

"I used the self-destruct to wipe my phone. Wolf started going crazy when I was leaving and snapped it in half."

I swallow hard, eyes glued to the ground. When I finally look up, Slade is watching me with an unreadable look on his face.

"If it was broken already, why wipe the data?"

"What?" my stomach free-falls. Shit, what did I say? What secret did I just let out?

"If Superboy's venom-inflated mongrel already destroyed your phone, why did you bother to wipe it?"

"I— well it was—"

"Stop."

My voice cuts off as my throat decides to snap shut.

"Don't give me any more excuses. Why did you wipe your phone?"

"Wolf jumped on me and grabbed my phone! He was on top of me and my phone was open and every text you sent me was on it and wide open for the entire League to see! They almost saw!" My voice is rising to a panicked frenzy and the words keep spilling out, "If I didn't wipe my phone, they would've found out! Everyone! I didn't have a choice!"

Slade doesn't say anything. The only sound is the computer fan humming in the corner and the Haunt's ventilation. And my heartbeat.

"How did you destroy your phone?"

I hesitate.

"Well?" Slade prompts mockingly.

"Internal self-destruct code on some models of the latest WayneTech phone. It wipes the hard drive and all data beyond recovery."

"What's the code?"

"I only know mine. Wayne Tech Override, RG8 ISD Activate… the codes don't officially exist, they're just for testing purposes. And emergencies. Slade, please, you asked me so I told you, but please don't… don't use it. If it gets out that the codes exist, it'll be bad! Really bad!"

Instead of answering, Slade takes a step forward to invade my personal space. I force myself to stay still even though every instinct I have screams, "RUN!"

"Richard…" Slade reaches for the corner of my mask and pulls it off slowly. I wince as he rips the glue off my skin, but Slade doesn't care if it hurts. He tosses the domino mask on his desk and stares down at me. Wearing a black and orange uniform is bad enough, but without a mask I feel completely naked, "You are not in a position to be making requests of any kind. Do you understand?"

That's a threat! Back off, right now! I force back any protests and stare at the ground.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Tell me, Richard, why do I ask you questions?"

"To… see what I know?"

"No, Richard. I ask you questions because I want an honest, concise answer, which I know you're capable of giving me. If you ever try to withhold something from me again, you will regret it every single day for the rest of your life. This is your only warning."

"I won't!"

"Correct. Now go to bed."

Dinah Lance

The Watchtower

Friday, November 9th, 2012

"Recognized: Green Arrow, A-08."

Dinah looked up as the Watchtower announced Green Arrow's return.

"Hey Ollie," she grinned, "How was Star?"

"Shitty," the archer spat, making his way into the Monitor Room. Dinah rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

"Aw, I'm sure it wasn't that bad," she turned around and immediately dropped her tablet, "Shit, Ollie! What the hell happened?!"

Oliver grimaced. The right side of his face was covered in black bruises, stretching from his jaw up to the underside of his eye. Blood dribbled down the side of his chin from a cut on his jaw.

"Some twerp broke my bow," he threw the offending item on the ground angrily, and Dinah winced when she saw the drawstring had been severed in half. Ollie loved that bow.

"Anyone I know?" she asked.

"Been to any Halloween parties lately?" Ollie snapped. He deflated when Dinah glared at him, "Nah, I didn't recognize him. All black suit, big orange spot on the chest, domino mask but spikier. Probably sixteen. Maybe older."

"Sixteen?! Ollie, you got…" she gestured to the face decorating his bruise, "By a sixteen-year-old?"

"In my defense, he hit like a fucking truck. He's got to be a meta. I had him in a bolo and he cut through it like it was spaghetti. He jumped two stories and hit the ground running. And he broke my bow!"

"Did he give you a name?"

"He didn't say anything. But he's not working alone."

"Why do you say that?"

"He was wearing an earpiece. Someone else was pulling the strings, or at least acting as lookout. And he had a getaway driver ready."

"So, we might be dealing with a new gang of teenage metahuman criminals?"

"Better than teenage mutant ninja turtles," Ollie sighed defeatedly, leaning against the console.

"What were they after?"

"It was at the Hizer R&D labs. They got away with a case. It had three of those micro-sciencey tube things, but I have no idea what was in them."

"Surveillance footage?"

"Wiped. They got into the system before the security guards called in a disturbance."

"Did you get anything?"

"He left this before he faked me out with a smoke grenade and got away," Ollie dug through his quiver and pulled out an evidence bag. Inside was a knife, cut to a wickedly sharp point with a gleaming edge, "We'll have Barry dust it for prints and see if Bruce can track the owner."

Dinah nodded.

"Alright."

Ollie rubbed his bruised cheek, then pushed himself up to go stare out the Monitor Womb windows, letting himself get lost in the view of literal space. Dinah felt her face pull down into a frown while a heaviness settled into her chest.

"Ollie, are you okay?"

"What? No, it just… you know I hate this biological weaponry. Give me an army of gorillas attacking the UN, no problem. But someone steals experimental chemicals to start a plague? I can't imagine how you can do that to other people. It just messes with me."

"Hopefully, that's not what we're dealing with. The report just came back from Hizer security. The lab that got hit is running final tests of their Dengue medication. Our thief made off with three samples of the vaccine," Clark announced as he entered the Watchtower, Diana right beside him.

"All of the security staff that tried to stop the thief were incapacitated," Diana added, "Nothing fatal, but two of them were hospitalized. Whoever was responsible was determined to leave with the vaccine samples, nothing else."

Ollie and Dinah looked at each other.

"Are they trying to reverse engineer it?" Dinah asked.

"The vaccine is scheduled to be brought to market in a few months. It's not enough time to copy the formula and start competitive production before it goes public. Although you never know with big pharma."

"Of course, that's assuming this was corporate-sponsored. And how many corporations hire teenage metas to do their dirty work?"

"I can name one right off the bat," Clark glowered.

"Could be Luthor," Ollie shrugged, scrubbing his face with his hand, "Either way, this is a fucking mess. I hate when new faces show up."

"You don't think it was Luthor?" Diana asked.

"Sixteen to eighteen-year-old probable meta, very well trained, working with unknown partners," Dinah summarized. Clark scowled and Diana frowned.

"I agree that hiring children, particularly ones of unknown skill, is a break from Luthor's usual patterns."

"We'll try and put together a profile. Go back over security footage, see if we can figure out any major players who were involved, try to find a connection between the kid and Hizer," Clark said, "In the meantime, I'll look into this Dengue vaccine and see if there's anything the pharmacists aren't telling us."

"Good. The sooner we deal with this the better," Ollie frowned. He prodded the bruise on his face and winced again. Dinah resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him, but she did bring her hand up to stop him from poking himself any more.

"How was the rest of the party?" she asked, thinking that it was as good a time as any to change the subject.

"The party? It went well, that was a very good idea. I think the extra encouragement didn't hurt them. There was a slight incident with Wolf when Robin left."

"What happened?"

"Apparently, Wolf was aggravated by Robin's phone going off and jumped on him."

"What?!" Ollie demanded.

"Was he okay?" Dinah asked.

"He was fine," Clark assured her.

"His phone wasn't," Diana interjected.

"That doesn't make any sense. Wolf has never done anything like that before!" Dinah shook her head, but as soon as she said the words, her mind was racing.

"That's what the Team said," Diana answered.

"You don't think…"

"What?"

Dinah looked at the other three Leaguers, biting her lip while she tried to decide whether or not she should say it. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? But there was so much that didn't add up.

"Dinah?"

Dinah sighed.

"It seems like every time something happens that doesn't quite add up, it's always about him."

"Are you serious?!" Ollie exclaimed. Clark and Diana exchanged a long glance that Dinah couldn't quite read.

"This isn't just about Wolf's strange behavior, is it?" Clark asked.

"No," Dinah sighed, "I'm just concerned that… there's so much that doesn't make sense. Robin is improving so much faster than any of his teammates, and he's had some drastic personality changes lately. He's late without explanation and runs out on the flimsiest excuses. You can't tell me that's not suspicious."

She held her breath, waiting for Superman or Wonder Woman to leap to the Boy Wonder's defense, but there was silence. They were looking at each other, brows furrowed and Clark's mouth was thinned into a tight line. Finally, Diana spoke.

"If you've noticed it… I think it might be time for you to talk to Bruce."

"Oh boy," Ollie muttered, "It was nice knowing you, Di."

Wally West

Red Arrow's Preferred Secure Location

Friday, November 9th, 2012

"Uh… Roy? Is this the right place? Roy? You said you found something?"

"You're welcome," Roy said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Holy shit, Roy!" Wally shouted, jumping a full foot into the air. Roy crossed his arms over his chest and grinned smugly.

"You asked for my help, remember? That means doing it my way."

"Your way includes giving me a freaking heart attack?!"

"Eh, you're young. You'll live. Here."

Wally caught the drive Roy tossed him.

"What is it?"

"A flash drive. You plug it into a computer—"

"I hate you."

"Sure you do. As far as that favor you asked for goes, you're in luck. Long story short, Deadshot's been in Central a lot lately. Nothing that big, just some small henching jobs. If you want to find your killer, I'd start with him."

"What about the others?"

"Deadline's out of commission. He's been in lockup in Sacramento since May. Deathstroke's been pretty quiet lately, but I tracked down a source that says he's been taking jobs for Luthor and some other big names here and there."

"For Luthor? That's gotta be suspicious, right?"

"Suspicious? Definitely. But relevant to your Central City case… not so much."

"What else have you heard about him?"

"Deadshot?"

"No, Deathstroke. I've got a feeling about him."

Roy shook his head and rolled his eyes in the same motion.

"Going off ridiculous hunches and ignoring any actual advice. You're definitely going to win your bet."

"Roy, I'm serious. I just have this feeling that there's something going on that I need to know. Please, if you know anything else about him, I need to know!"

Roy stared at him. Wally was suddenly hyper-aware of how heavily he was breathing and how crazy he must look. There had to be a way to make Roy understand how important this was! Dick's life was literally on the line!

"You're something else, Wals, you know that?"

"So you can't help me?"

"I didn't say that," Roy grinned, "But you can't ask how I found it."

"Done," Wally said instantly.

"The Terminator just took a contract in Lisbon from Moreau."

"Who?"

"Damien Moreau. He's an international smuggler. Art, antiques, money, drugs, weapons, art, nuclear materials, people, and just about anything else you can think of. He's bad, and the people that work for him are worse."

A contract in another country for a high-profile international criminal? For a few seconds, Wally could only stare. That was beyond perfect.

"What do you know about the contract?"

"The only thing I found was an address. But Wally, if you're going to make a move, you have to do it soon. Deathstroke moves fast and nobody's sure where he is right now."

"Thanks Roy. I owe you five."

"You owe me a lot more than five at this point," Roy snorted, "Just one more thing."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll be careful. You can't take these guys lightly."

"I won't. I promise."

Chapter Text

Tim Drake

Wayne Manor

Wednesday, November 7th, 2012 a.k.a. Two Days Before Hizer

The doorbell rang.

"I'LL GET IT!" Tim hollered at the top of his lungs, sprinting for the door.

"Wait up!" Stephanie shouted. The two of them raced to the front door with Cassie on their heels. Tim reached it first, but Stephanie got her hand on the doorknob so she got to pull the door open. The woman on the other side looked as surprised to see them as they were to see her. She smiled warmly, green eyes twinkling.

"You must be Tim and Stephanie. It's a pleasure to meet you."

They stared at her.

"Hi," Tim said, breaking the silence.

"I take it Bruce didn't mention I was coming," the woman grinned.

"BRUCE!" Stephanie shouted into the manor. Tim winced. Her mouth was right next to his ear and her shout made his eardrums ring, "THERE'S A LADY HERE TO SEE YOU!"

"Miss Stephanie!" Alfred reprimanded, "What have I told you about inside voices?"

"I'm inside and this is my voice. That makes it my inside voice," Stephanie retorted. Tim shook his head from side to side, trying to clear the slight ringing sound.

"A bit quieter next time, please. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"Mghhhhgnf… no. Sorry Alfred."

Alfred accepted the hug in apology before turning to the woman.

"Miss Kyle, I'm so glad you could join us for dinner tonight. Master Bruce has been most excitable recently."

"Excitable, really? I somehow doubt that."

"I think you'd be shocked. Please come in."

"Thank you, Alfred," Selina smiled warmly, before looking around the manor with a keen eye, "I've never been here without two hundred other people making small talk. The manor's absolutely beautiful."

"That's very kind of you to say, Miss Kyle. Now, volume issues aside, would you two mind showing our guest to Master Bruce's study?"

"Sure!" Stephanie grinned, grabbing Selina's hand fearlessly, "Come on!"

Tim watched them suspiciously. Stephanie wasn't being suspicious, she was just being friendly. But he knew the name Selina Kyle. Why was Catwoman at their house for dinner? Alfred had to know who she was, right? Alfred knew everything, and if Bruce brought a supervillain into the manor without permission, he'd be in so much trouble.

So, if nothing dangerous was happening, that still left the question of what exactly Catwoman was doing there. Tim didn't know the answer, so instead of trying to figure it out he followed Stephanie to Bruce's study. When they walked in, Bruce looked up and a big smile spread across his face.

"Selina."

He didn't sound surprised, and neither had Alfred now that Tim was thinking about it. That meant this was planned. He watched as Bruce stood up and gave Selina quick kiss on the cheek. It was sort of like the way Tim's mom used to kiss his dad, but also nothing like that because Bruce actually looked happy doing it, "I'm glad you could come."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Selina smiled back.

"I see you've met the advance team," Bruce said, ruffling a hand through Tim's hair, "Jason's in the kitchen helping with dinner."

"Where's Dick?"

"He's with the Team. They have a mission tomorrow and Canary is running them through final prep."

"Busy kid. Wonder where he gets that from."

"That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you about—"

"Come on! Let's go find Jay," Stephanie interrupted Tim's eavesdropping by grabbing his wrist and tugging him to the door.

Tim followed without protesting, but once the door was closed behind them and they were out of earshot, he whirled around and hissed, "Steph! I was trying to listen!"

Steph rolled her eyes.

"Duh, that's why we had to leave."

"I want to figure out what's going on!"

"And you think they're gonna just talk right in front of you? We had to leave so they think they're alone to talk about grown up things."

"How are we supposed to find out what they're saying if we can't hear them?" Tim pointed out. Stephanie flicked him on the nose.

"Oh Timmy. You'll understand when you're older. Come on!"

"I'm eight months older than you!" Tim whined, but followed her down the hallway to one of the sitting rooms that Stephanie had claimed as her personal study. When she made a beeline for the massive Barbie Dreamhouse sitting against the wall, he stomped his feet, "Are you kidding me?!"

"Don't you trust me?" she turned back, blinking innocently with her stupid puppy eyes.

"Ugh. Fine."

Stephanie plopped down in front of the massive plastic tower and opened it up to reveal a four-story hot-pink nightmare. Tim eyed the rows and rows of Barbies with distaste, but Stephanie was staunchly ignoring him while she picked through dolls.

"I'll be Kathy and Hallie. You can be Stella."

She handed him a doll with bright purple hair and blue overalls.

"I don't want to play dolls with you."

Stephanie grinned at him like she knew something he didn't. She flicked something on the doll's back, "How about now?"

Stupid little sisters. Tim didn't have any choice but to take the doll, but once he did, he could hear voices. His eyes widened. Stephanie was gleefully parading her dolls around, but he could hear sounds coming from each of the dolls in her hand too.

"Steph, what—"

"I love going shopping Kathy!" Stephanie announced, waving one doll in the air, "Oh, me too Hallie! What about you, Stella? Where do you want to go shopping?"

"I feel crazy that I'm freaking about this," Selina's voice came quietly through the listening device hidden under Stella's overalls, "What if they hate me? Bruce, was this a mistake?"

"It's going to be fine," Bruce answered.

Tim stared at Stephanie. She blinked at him innocently.

"I believe that wraps up dinner preparations quite nicely," Alfred's voice came through the doll in Stephanie's left hand. Tim could only blink at her.

"You bugged the manor?"

"Duh."

"How many of these do you have?" Tim demanded.

"Stella, study. Kathy, kitchen. Hallie, first floor hallway," Stephanie pointed at the rest of the dolls scattered through the dollhouse, "Bella, Breanna, Georgia, Paulie, Hanna, Hera, Dina—"

"Did you bug my bedroom?!" Tim hissed.

"No!" Stephanie looked offended, "That'd be creepy."

"It's still creepy!"

"Do you want to know what's going on or not? No one ever tells us anything!"

Tim frowned. Steph was right. Bruce and Alfred and even Dick wouldn't always tell them what was going on and Tim hated not getting answers. But Bruce wouldn't be happy once he found out.

"Does Bruce know about this?"

Stephanie shrugged and made a non-committal sound.

"Not if you don't tell him. Are you gonna?"

"He's gonna be so mad when he finds out. Steph, this is a bad idea."

"Well how else are we supposed to know what's going on!"

"We could just ask!"

"Tim, they're not gonna just tell us the truth. We're kids. The truth is for grown-ups."

"Bruce tells us stuff."

"Look, my daddy always said that if you want to get the truth, you need to hear it from someone you trust and also someone you know will lie to you. That way you can figure it out for real," she pointed at the doll, "Truth, and then someone else can tell me the lie."

"Bruce doesn't lie."

"Everybody lies," Steph said matter-of-factly.

"Nuh-uh! Bruce doesn't!"

"Bruce lied to Dick about joining the League! And he tells Dick more than he tells either of us."

Tim looked at the doll in his hand. It felt like a slap in the face, but Stephanie was right.

"What if you hear something you're not supposed to?"

"That's not my fault. I didn't bug the cave or anything. If it's something really secret, it should stay down there. Besides, there's lots of things they're not telling you. Don't you want to know why Dick is avoiding us?"

"He's not!"

"Yeah he is. He hasn't played with us since all the adults got sent to another universe. And he missed my ballet recital."

Tim frowned.

"Can I use them?"

"Not without me…" Stephanie whispered, and then continued in a bright voice, "But if you want to, I'm always happy to play dolls!"

"Master Jason, if you wouldn't mind locating your siblings then I believe we're ready to eat," Kathy announced in Alfred's voice.

Stephanie grabbed the doll back from Tim and flicked the listening devices off. He took it back as she said, "Now we have to pick out a room for Stella. Kathy's the landlady, so you have to negotiate with her."

"I like this room," Tim played along, taking the doll back and selecting at random.

"Excellent choice, ma'am. This room has the best Wi-Fi in the house."

"So it's Stella's room now? She wants to paint it blue."

"No!" Stephanie shouted, waving a new doll, "Kathy, you told me I could have it if I got the rent in!"

"Dinner!" Jason shouted from the doorway. Tim jumped a foot in the air.

"We're busy!" Stephanie shouted back.

"Are you guys seriously playing dolls?" Jason demanded.

"Yeah, and we're busy."

"Don't care. Alfred says dinner's ready. Come on, Timbo."

Tim dropped the doll (being careful not to break the hidden listening device) and climbed to his feet.

"Ugh… fine," Stephanie grumbled, "I'll be right there."

Even once they were all sitting at the dinner table, Tim couldn't stop thinking about the dolls. Stephanie made a good point. He wanted to know what was going on just as much as she did. His parents never told him anything and they treated him like a stupid little kid who was just there for decoration. Bruce never made him feel like that, but there were so many things that he was "too young to know." Tim hated the "I'll explain when you're older," and "It's a League matter," Dick got to know! And Dick was only four years older than he was.

But Bruce would be so mad if he found out Stephanie had bugged the whole manor. He always said he kept secrets for a reason. Like how he had to keep being Batman a secret or people might try to hurt their family. Tim didn't know what to do.

"Tim, are you alright?" Bruce asked, putting a hand on his back, "You look distracted."

"Nope!" Tim said quickly.

"You're not alright or you're not distracted?"

Tim thought for a second and decided to nod.

"Yes."

"Tim, it wasn't a yes or no question."

Tim slowly raised his eyebrow.

"…maybe."

Bruce shook his head with a huff that meant he was secretly laughing.

"What am I going to do with you?"

Then the table got quiet. Selina cleared her throat. Bruce nodded at her, drumming one finger on the table nervously. Stephanie kicked Tim's ankle pointedly. He'd been so caught up thinking about Stephanie's dolls that he forgot about how weird it was that Catwoman was having dinner with them. Maybe Bruce did tell him stuff after all. So maybe he should tell Bruce about the bugs all over the manor. But he told Stephanie he wouldn't tell. Maybe he could convince her to tell Bruce…

"I wanted to tell you all at the same time, but Selina and I have been… involved… for a little while."

Tim's head snapped up.

Stephanie gasped.

Jason made a coughing sound.

Cassie slammed her hands against the table and giggled.

"You're getting married?!" Stephanie demanded

"No, they like each other too much for that," Tim answered matter-of-factly even though his brain was spinning. His mom and dad hadn't liked each other that much and they'd been married. Marriage was for people who didn't like each other but had to pretend to. Unless it was an Amazon. Aunt Diana was an Amazon and Tim couldn't imagine not liking someone like her. But Selina was Catwoman and Bruce was Batman and this was too weird but also it made sense.

"We're not getting married," Selina laughed.

"Told you!" Tim crowed. He didn't notice as much as Cassie, who could meet people and figure out if they were mean or nice or if Bruce liked them in under thirty seconds, but at least he could see the looks Bruce and Selina kept giving each other. They smiled at each other, which was different. People smiled at Bruce all the time, especially pretty ladies, but he almost never smiled back. If he did, they weren't real smiles.

These were real. Bruce looked happy, and that was good. Bruce should be happy.

"So if you're not getting married, what's the big deal?" Jason asked.

"Spoon!" Cassie shouted, grabbing at Jason's silverware. He passed her his spoon immediately, only for Alfred to swoop in and replace the metal spoon with a toddler-sized one in a practiced motion.

"Well… if you're all okay with it, I'd like Selina to move in."

The announcement was met with silence. Well, silence and Cassie banging her spoon against the table while giggling like a crazy person.

"Like, live here, move in?" Jason asked.

"That's the idea," Selina smiled, but she looked scared. Tim tilted his head and saw Bruce forcing himself to stop his nervous finger-tapping.

"You don't have to make any decisions right now, we just wanted to let you know where we all stand."

"I appreciate that this is a big thing to ask of you all, so I want you to know nothing is going to happen right away. Before we make any big changes, I want to get to know you guys. Let you get to know me. I was thinking it would be nice to have some one-on-one bonding time. Pick whatever you want to do and we can do it."

Before Tim could figure out how he felt about that offer, Jason smirked.

"Rob a bank."

"Jason," Bruce snapped.

"Go to the bank and stand in line for twelve hours."

"Alright, you can go last," Selina gave a small smile.

"Fine," Jason shrugged, "Gives me time to pick the bank."

"Jason," Bruce repeated.

"OOH! I WANNA GO FIRST!" Stephanie shouted. Tim jumped.

"What do you want to do?"

"Go shopping!"

Selina Kyle

Palisades Mall, West Nyack

Saturday, November 10th, 2012

"So you're gonna be my mom now?!" Stephanie swung Selina's hand back and forth as she skipped down the parking lot towards the mall.

"Not exactly. But I would like us to be friends."

"Pfft, I don't need more friends! I need a mom! You can take me shopping and we'll get our nails done and we can talk about boys and you can say I can't have things and I'll go get Bruce to buy them for me anyways!"

"You watch a lot of tv, don't you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason."

"You wouldn't have said if there wasn't a reason."

"Or maybe I would've if there was."

"OR, you would've if there wasn't a reason to not to would will have."

"Alright, you win. Let's stop that game there please," Selina interrupted, feeling her head start to spin as she tried to figure it out and promptly gave up instead. Stephanie was happy to start a new stream of chatter and questions that kept them both engaged through the juniors section, but when they reached the fancy dresses near the changing rooms, Stephanie grinned brightly.

"So when do you pick out a wedding dress?"

"Stephanie," Selina blushed, "We're not getting married."

"But you're moving in. You're buttering all of us up so we don't interrupt the ceremony when the priest says 'if anyone objects to this onion speak now.'"

"Stephanie," Selina laughed, barely resisting the urge to put a hand over her face in amused mortification, "Firstly, it's a union. Not an onion. Secondly, Bruce would much prefer a Rabbi over a priest. Thirdly, and most importantly, that's not what this is."

"Yes it is."

"Who told you that?"

"No one, I figured it out on my own!" Stephanie said proudly.

"Stephanie, you're clearly a very talented detective, but that's not what's happening. Bruce and I aren't getting married, and this isn't a trick to butter you up and make you like me. I just want to get to know you better so if you decide you're okay with it, it's not like a complete stranger is moving into your house and dating your dad."

"But you're not a stranger," Stephanie said, inspecting the flowing purple gown on the mannequin, "You're Catwoman. I know all about you."

Selina glanced around to see if anyone was listening but nobody was paying them any attention.

"Stephanie, I'm not just…"

Stephanie blinked at her innocently. Selina hesitated.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did!" she grinned cheekily.

"Another thing."

"Okay."

"You know that I… have done a lot of things I shouldn't have."

"Like stealing," Stephanie nodded. Selina winced.

"Yes. Mostly stealing. But even though I don't do it anymore, does knowing that about me make you uncomfortable?"

"Nope! Why would it?"

Well… that certainly wasn't the answer she was expecting. Batman's daughter not caring about right and wrong?

"Daddy stole stuff too."

"What?"

"Mhm. Cluemaster!"

Selina blinked.

"Your dad is Cluemaster?"

Stephanie nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"He got arrested and child protection services determined he was an unfit guardian due to the presence of drugs and household instability," Stephanie rattled off like she'd memorized it word-for-word from a therapist, "He's in Metropolis Penitentiary."

Selina flinched, regretting that she'd asked without thinking, "That's terrible."

"It's okay. I have Bruce! And Alfred. And I like having brothers and being a big sister. And being rich is fun!"

"Stephanie, I'm so sorry. I… I don't…" Selina sighed, "I don't think I'm very good with kids."

"That's okay. Kids are hard," Stephanie nodded sagely, "Well not me. I'm easy. I just like people who buy me things!"

Grateful for the subject change even though Stephanie didn't seem to mind, Selina jumped at the chance to say, "Alright, I get the hint. Are you going to try that one on?"

"Mhm!"

"Well, you'll need shoes to match it. Do you have a pair of heels?"

Two hours later, Selina walked out of the mall four hundred dollars lighter and three bags heavier, plus a gel manicure shinier. Holding her hand with a matching manicure, Stephanie was bouncing up and down with excitement.

One down. Only four to go.

Jason was hanging out in the kitchen when Selina hugged Stephanie goodbye. After Stephanie ran off to go show off her new dresses to Cassie, Selina tapped Jason on the shoulder.

"Picked a bank yet?"

Jason rolled his eyes at her.

"Nope. Still looking. I'm trying to find one that just doesn't move, you know? Where you stay in the same spot until your feet are glued to the floor and you're trapped for all eternity."

"Well that sounds fun. I hate to get in the way of your plans, but I stumbled across these."

She flicked an envelope onto his lap. Jason picked it up, opened it, and his jaw dropped.

"Are these Revs tickets? Bruce said I had to wait until my birthday!"

"What's life if you can't bend a few rules? Besides, I heard a rumor New England's your favorite."

"They're the best! Are we sitting in the Fort?"

"Where else can you watch a soccer game from? Foxborough is a bit of a drive, so if you'd rather fly, I can ask Bruce to lend me the jet…" she winked at him to let him know what she really thought about asking for permission, "Or if you want to drive, you can sit in the front seat and tell me all about why the Revs are the best team in the league."

"Deal."

Selina's apartment

"How did it go?" Bruce asked as soon as she picked up her cell phone.

Selina couldn't fight the smile on her face.

"Two down. Three to go. Have you talked to Dick yet?"

"Tonight. I've been waiting until we both have time."

"That's probably smart."

"I had a thought for you and Cassie."

"Hit me."

"There's a lot of programs that offer exercise classes for toddlers and their parents. It could be an excellent bonding opportunity, as an isolated instance or a recurring activity."

"Really? A Mommy-and-Me dance class?" Selina raised an eyebrow, putting her feet up on her couch. Nutmeg the tabby cat hopped into her lap and Selina stroked his fur absently.

"It'll be good for Cassie to spend time with kids her age," Bruce returned. Selina could almost hear his smile over the phone. He was teasing her, he had to be.

"You really think it's a good idea to send me into a room filled with trophy wives who barely spend time with their children? With very expensive, dangly, did I mention valuable jewelry hanging from their wrists, ears and necks?"

"Well…"

"I know that tone. Alright, spit it out."

"Those women are very involved with Gotham's upper crust. They're well connected, and so are their husbands."

"It's a small world," Selina smiled as she figured out where he was going with it.

"And it doesn't hurt to have friends."

"So… I take Cassie dancing, schmooze the young society mothers, and they go home and tell their husbands, 'Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into today! Selina Kyle! I'm sure you remember her, she and darling Brucie have been on and off for years and they've finally settled down, it's so adorable!'"

"Minus the…"

"No, they will call us adorable. Mark my words, mighty caped crusader," Selina teased, "In any case, their husbands mention it to their friends at the golf course, 'That's right, Bruce is finally settling down, that Kyle woman is good for him. She's practically adopted the kids already. What a woman, tits like she has AND willing to step up and raise the kids. Lucky man.'"

"You can stop now."

"No, I'm on a roll. If I have the young mothers, then I have their society friends and their husbands and their husbands' friends and their wealthy, well-connected parents and then… I'm in. You and me together for real, scandal free. The future Mrs. Selina Wayne née Kyle, Gotham Socialite."

"I'm quite literally begging you to stop."

Dick Grayson

Wayne Manor

Saturday, November 10th, a.k.a. One day after Hizer

I look up when the sound of footsteps echo through the library. Judging by the weight of the footsteps and the click of the soles, it's Bruce. My pencil flies across the history worksheet as I cross-reference questions with the textbook spread out on the table in front of me.

"Hey Bruce," I call when he gets close enough that I don't have to yell.

"Do you have a minute?" he asks.

"Sure," I close the book and put my papers aside. Then I pause when everything hits me. Bruce's jaw is clenched and he hasn't blinked since I looked up. This isn't normal.

Something's wrong.

"What's going on? Why do you look like that?" I ask, my stomach sinking.

Oh god. Please, no. Please don't let this be…

"Dick… there's something I… we need to talk."

"… Scale of one to actual apocalypse, how scared should I be right now?" I force out.

"Dick, I need you to listen to me," Bruce answers slowly, his voice dark like he's about to drop into Batman's growl.

Oh god.

He knows about Hizer.

He knows about Slade.

He knows about everything.

"Seven? Eight? Top of the scale?" My hands are shaking.

"No."

This is it. Bruce, I'm so sorry.

The pencil in my hand strains under the pressure, but it doesn't snap.

"I'd like to ask Selina to move in."

Wait… he… and Selina… he…

"You WHAT?!"

"I want to ask Selina to move in."

What? No, he can't be serious. He's not talking about Hizer, he's talking about….

"Bruce, you… she's Catwoman! She's a criminal!"

"She's been clean for two years. I would never ask her if I wasn't sure."

"Bruce, are you kidding me?! You can't do that!"

"Dick, please listen to me."

"No! You listen! She's a criminal! You can't trust her! She's just trying to use you!"

"She isn't."

"You don't know that!"

"I do. I've talked to Stephanie and the boys, and they've all agreed to think about it."

"Are you kidding me?! You can't do that‼"

"All I'm asking is that you give her a chance."

"A chance?! You want me to give her a chance to make an idiot out of you and put us all in danger?! NO!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm being ridiculous?! You're the one who wants to invite a known criminal to move in with us! You can't seriously be this stupid!"

I can tell I went too far when Bruce's eyes narrow and he barks, "Dick! That's enough!"

"I don't care!" I throw my pencil on the ground and it shatters on impact. I slam the library doors open so hard the walls shake. Bruce is hot on my heels.

"Dick. Where are you going?" Bruce demands.

"Out!" I scream, storming through the garage door. I throw my helmet over my head and rev up the engine, waiting for the garage door to open.

Bruce yells something back, but I tune him out.

As soon as the door opens enough for my motorcycle to fit through, I throttle the engine and race out of the garage. I expect Bruce to try to stop me, but he doesn't.

I don't know if I'm glad or angry that he didn't.

Catwoman.

Catwoman?!

Really, it's not like I've got enough going wrong in my life?! Course not! Now Bruce decides that he's going to start dating Catwoman!

She's a thief! She's a criminal! She's stolen millions of dollars' worth of artwork from museums and art galleries and charity auctions! She threw me off a building when I was ten!

It's not bad enough that I have to face Bruce knowing that I'm lying to him about everything?! That I broke into a lab, stole a bunch of vaccines and knocked the shit out of a bunch of security guards who were just doing their jobs?! That I punched Ollie in the face to keep my secret safe?! It's really not bad enough that I have to train with Slade twice a week, go on patrol four nights a week, train with the Team and go on randomly scheduled missions, take two AP classes and three honors classes, and deal with six hours of homework every single day?

No! Because now, on top of all that, I have to deal with Catwoman! As a normal person who I will have to be around and talk to and not immediately arrest on sight!

Without realizing it, I drive away from the main road and the city and onto the forested back-roads. Suddenly, I get a crazy idea. Jerking the handle-bar sharply to the left, I steer straight into the woods. Sweat pours down my face as I concentrate on dodging and weaving through trees and over rocks. My fingers clench around the handlebars until they turn white and the rubber digs painfully into my palms. My heart is pounding with adrenaline and anger and a hundred other emotions that I can't figure out. Suddenly, I slam the brakes and pull back as my motorcycle skids to a jerky stop.

I rip off my helmet and throw it against a tree. I kick the kickstand down, my foot leaving a dent in the dirt when it lands. I stomp over to the tree and bend over to pick up my helmet, but something inside me snaps and I whip it against the tree again. Letting out a scream, I slam my foot against the trunk. My foot collides with the solid wood, sending shock waves through my leg.

The tree doesn't budge.

I scream against, kicking the tree again, and then another time. I ball my hand into a fist and punch the trunk as hard as I can. Pain erupts in my fingers and my wrist, burning with the force of the splinters that fly out at me. I stare down at my hand, watching the skin turn red and swell slightly.

There's something calming about punching a tree and watching pieces fly off the bark. The pain in my hand feels right. Simple. I hurt the tree, and it hurt me back. There's nothing complicated about it. Without realizing, my other hand curls into a fist. I stare at it for a second before pulling it back and punching into the same spot. This time, more splinters fly and a tiny crack forms in the surface.

I grin despite myself, ignoring the burning pain in both of my hands.

Then I let go of my control and scream, pummeling the tree with my fists and letting my rage and exhaustion and grief and anger and sadness and pain and everything else free. I put everything I've been bottling up into my fists, pushing everything out so it's not trapped inside me anymore. With every hit, the cracks get louder and louder and unless I'm imagining things, the trunk starts to feel less solid under my fist. My eyes closed at some point and when I stop, panting from exertion, there's a splintering sound. The few leaves left on the tree start rustling and the splintering sound gets louder and then there's a creak that just keeps building and building and I open my eyes in time to see the tree fall.

The crash resonates through the woods, sending a shockwave that leaves everything with an unnatural stillness.

My mind supplies helpful bits of information. It's a pignut hickory, the tenth most abundant native Connecticut tree. Judging by its height and diameter, it was about seventy years old. It's lying on the ground, base splinted in jagged spikes of wood.

I stare, mind blank.

I punched a tree down.

I broke a tree with my bare hands.

I look down. My fists are raw and bleeding, but nothing is broken. They sting, but nothing worse than a few scrapes and cuts.

I look down at the tree and my heart is pounding.

Something is wrong. This isn't possible. I'm thirteen. I shouldn't be strong enough to break a tree but I broke a freaking tree!

What's happening to me?!

My eyes widen when a thought hits me.

I push my sleeves up, staring at my inner forearms.

There.

Just under the crook of my elbow, there's a swollen circle around a raised nub that could have been a bug bite. Batman and I have been fighting against drug runners since I was eight, and looking closely, there's no mistaking it.

That's an injection site, and I have no idea where it came from.

Bruce wouldn't do that to me.

Slade would.

I thought… I thought it was over. I thought Bruce knew about Hizer, about Slade, about Renegade, everything. But instead, he dropped another bomb on me and now I have to deal with Catwoman on top of everything.

That's not the worst of it, though.

For a second, just a split second between kissing my entire life goodbye and finding out about Bruce's new girlfriend, I thought I had a chance. I thought Batman knew. I thought there was a chance he could keep me safe, that he could stop Slade and save me. But he doesn't know. He doesn't have any idea.

I'm trapped worse than ever and I can't do this much longer.

Selina Kyle

Gotham Aquarium

Sunday, November 11th, 2012

"I like you," Tim announced.

Selina looked up from the pedestal that described the classification of Chondrichthyes in front of the shark tank.

"I… thank you, Tim. I like you too."

"I just thought you should know that," he said, before forging ahead, "Thank you for taking me to the aquarium."

"Of course. I'm glad you like it."

"You can't move in."

Selina blinked.

"What?"

"It's not that I don't want you to. I like you. But Dick doesn't and it was his home first and it's not fair that you can move in and mess him up."

"Tim, I wouldn't."

"Okay. Tell him that. If he says it's okay then it's okay."

"We have a problem," Bruce and Selina said at the same time.

"Did Tim say something to you?" Selina asked.

"No. Did you talk to Dick?" Bruce asked.

"Dick has no intention of talking to me," Selina said, "Tim supports him completely, which is very sweet. But… he said no."

"Because of Dick."

"No! Bruce, no. I know that look, put it away. We knew this wouldn't be easy, but we'll figure it out. It's not Dick's fault."

Her stomach tightened during the stare off but finally, Bruce sighed.

"You're right."

Dick Grayson

The Haunt

Wednesday, November 14th, 2012

The garage is empty when I get there. Not really a surprise since I haven't seen any of the mechanics in months. Since I found out what Slade really wanted from me.

It's a typical trip to the Haunt for secret evil mercenary training until I walk into the fake office and stop dead. Lying on the desk is a brand-new tour poster for the Haly's Circus 2012 International tour. A woman with a vivid full face of makeup covers three quarters of the poster, with a list of acts decorating the sides.

I see red. My heart pounds and without thinking I grab the poster, storm down the hidden staircase into the Haunt, and throw open the door to the real office.

"Why do you have this?!" I demand, waving the poster in the air.

"You're not going to like this," Slade says without preamble, "Sit down."

"Slade, what—"

"Sit," he orders, his voice as sharp as ice. My blood freezes.

I sit.

"An investigation into Haly's International Circus opened last night in response to several high-profile thefts following the group's route."

"What?!"

"I've put together a profile for you. The thief is travelling with the troupe and has the abilities of just about all the acts in the show."

"It's not true! They wouldn't-"

"Watch your tone," Slade snaps. I flinch, pulling my hands in and staring at the ground.

"It's not Haly, but it is one of the members. The profile of the thefts all matched the same height and build, so rest assured it's not the entire group."

"Why are you telling me?" I ask, using every ounce of self-control to keep my voice soft.

"I know what that circus meant to you. Go clear their name."

"Are you ordering me to?"

"Please. As if there's any way I'd be able to stop you from going," he holds out a folder and I reach for it, but he pulls back at the last second, "Take whichever of your teammates you want, except the Flash boy."

"What? Why can't I take Kid Flash?"

"He knows you too well."

Oh.

"Batman won't let me just lead a rogue mission."

"Then don't tell him."

"But—"

"Do you want the information or not? Because if you don't care to intervene, I have plenty of things for us to work on for the next few days."

My jaw snaps shut and I stare at the pile of papers on his desk. More account summaries and mission briefings and other things that I know better than to try and read. That's a mistake I'm never making again.

"That's what I thought," he turns around, "One last thing. I'll be out of the country for the next few weeks. While I'm gone, you will attend the activities that you claim to be at during our sessions. Show up to all of them in the same manner you arrive here and stay until the end. Pick one day during the next two weeks to skip something, and instead go to a place that you will be able to sit, work on homework and relax undisturbed. I'd recommend a coffee shop, but kids have strange tastes so I will leave it to your discretion."

"Why?"

"For your alibi, of course."

Of course, he wouldn't just give me a break.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

Mount Justice

"Hi Robin!" M'gann beams.

"Hey," Conner says without looking up. He's standing over a frying pan with a look of intense concentration, and he's frowning at the stove like it personally offended him.

"Hey, M'gann, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure. What about?"

"I need your help."

Head tilt. Blink three times.

'Mindlink established.'

'I really need your help.'

"Of course! Conner, you don't need me to help finish dinner, do you?" M'gann answers cheerfully.

"Uh…"

"Thanks, Con!" I say, grabbing M'gann's hand and leading her towards my room.

"How did your essay go?"

"Could've been better, but I'm lucky it wasn't a lot worse," I tell her, "Batman's going to be even more pissed at me when he finds out what I got on it."

"What? Why is Batman mad at you?"

She closes the door to my room behind her and I take a deep breath.

"Because… I need to go off road. Off mission, I mean. I mean… there's a problem and I really need your help."

"What happened?"

"I told you about the circus, right?"

"The one you grew up in? Haly's Travelling Circus."

"Yeah. They've been on an international tour for the last few weeks but something's wrong. There's been a string of robberies following the exact schedule and travel plans the circus has, plus there's footage of acrobats and tightrope walkers doing the break ins. I think someone's using the circus as a cover and Interpol is going to shut the whole show down if someone can't prove Mr. Haly is innocent. I have to go find whoever's really behind it and stop them."

"But why does it have to be undercover? From the League, I mean."

'Because Slade is the one who told me about it.'

"What?!"

"I said, because it's personal," I say louder, just in case there are listening devices in the room, "Here, I pulled up these articles about the robberies."

I hand her my phone, which does really have police reports up, but the real point is to make sure anyone listening in or watching doesn't suspect the real conversation.

'M'gann, please hear me out. The threat is real. I didn't just take his word for it. Please, I know it seems bad, but the circus was my home. They're still my family. I'm scared that if I don't go find whoever's behind this, it'll get the circus shut down for good. They might even arrest Jack—Mr. Haly.'

"Why don't you want anyone else's help?"

'Dick, you have to know it's a trap.'

'That's why I need you! You know what's really going on, you can adapt if everything starts going wrong! Please, I can't take the chance that the circus really needs my help.'

M'gann frowns, her lips pressed together tightly. Finally, she nods.

"What do you need me to do?"

"We'll go in disguise and join the circus as a new act. I've got it all planned out. We'll be Dan and Dawn Danger, brother-sister acrobats. I've already called my school to tell them I'm out sick, so I'm clear for the rest of the week."

"What are we going to tell the League?"

'We can't tell them about it or they'll try and come.'

'Wouldn't it be good to have more backup?'

'Not if this is a trap.'

"We tell them you're taking me out for a flying lesson in the bioship."

"You think they'll buy it?"

"No."

'But hopefully, they'll think I kept it a secret because of the circus and not because of anything else.'

'Okay. I'll do it on one condition. We come up with a plan to get rid of Slade and end this once and for all.'

'M'gann, there isn't a way out. He's always ten steps ahead and there's too many people that could get hurt. I just have to get through it.'

'And where does it end? What happens when he tells you to betray the team? Or steal secrets from the League?'

I think of the secret Wayne Tech codes I gave up and my stomach tightens.

'M'gann, please.'

'There has to be a way out, Dick. We'll find it. We have to try. You owe it to yourself.'

What if she's wrong? What if we try something and it goes horribly wrong and Slade finds out?

But what if she's right? Even if I do everything right, follow every order and keep this secret, Slade still might change his mind and lock me inside the Haunt forever. If I don't try to find a way out, then I really am powerless.

It's worth the risk. As long as he never finds out.

'Okay.'

"Then we have a circus to save."

Wally West

Mount Justice

Friday, November 16th, 2012

Wally checked the monitor logs again, reassuring himself that Batman still wasn't in the Watchtower or the Cave. Wonder Woman was on monitor duty, and the Flash was on the active duty list. According to Tornado, Miss Martian had taken Rob out for a flying lesson in the bioship, so they'd be gone for a while. Conner had roped Zatanna into helping him cook dinner, and Kaldur had just left for a joint patrol with Red Arrow. This was his best shot.

"Flash, come in."

"What's up, Kid?"

"Remember that cold case I've been looking in on?"

"The one you told Roy we made a bet on?" his uncle sounded vaguely amused.

"Yeah, that one. I think I accidentally found something else. You're going to want to see it."

There was a rush of wind through the com, then the sound of the zeta beam activating. A second later, there was another rush of wind and then the Flash was standing next to him.

"What is it?"

"Look," Wally pulled up the League's satellite footage, which was zoomed in on a street in the old city of Lisbon, Portugal, "Roy gave me a lead and I thought it would help if I could see the area and instead, I found this."

"Is that…" Flash frowned, looking at the black and orange figure on top of one of the buildings. He jerked back, whipping around to look at Wally for confirmation, "Kid, when was this footage taken?"

"It's live."

"Shit! Flash to the Justice League! All available members respond. Deathstroke the Terminator spotted in Lisbon. I repeat, all available members respond! Sending coordinates now."

He flicked off his comm and turned to Wally.

"Turn your comm to the League frequency. I need you to stay here and keep tracking him. He's incredibly dangerous and very slippery. Don't lose him."

"I won't," Wally promised, heart pounding in his chest. With a nod, the Flash disappeared.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

Brussels, Belgium

Wednesday, November 14th, 2012

"I'm sorry kids, but you're wasting your time. I'm not adding another act this far along the tour," Mr. Haly says without looking up as soon as we walk into his office, "Thanks for coming, make sure to catch tomorrow's show, and feel free to try again for the next tour."

"At least hear us out," I say, pulling off my sunglasses, "Dawn" closes the door behind us so nobody in the hallway can hear us. Mr. Haly's head snaps up and he stares at me. He doesn't say anything for about a second and a half, then he slumps in his chair and sighs.

"Dick, you know I'm always happy to see you, but you picked a bad time to come visit."

"That's why we're here," I say, "I know about the robberies and I know you had nothing to do with them. We'll make sure whoever's behind it gets caught."

"Dick, I appreciate that, but this isn't your job to fix it. I can't ask you to."

"You're not asking me to. I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the circus."

"How exactly are you planning to fix this?"

"We'll find the person behind this. I know this show better than anyone, and Dawn has a lot of hidden talents. We'll fix this. You have to trust us. Trust me."

"You can always trust a Grayson," Mr. Haly sighs again, conflict written all over his face, "Dick, are you sure you can clear this up?"

"You know I am."

"Damn straight I do. Alright, I'm assuming you'll need costumes, and we'll get you your own sleeper. The videos you sent us, were those your real act?"

"Yeah. Dawn will stick to basics and I'll make sure it's a good show."

"You're going by the Dangers? Dan and Dawn? At least I'm assuming that's why you're blond now."

"Yeah. Jack, I'm sorry, but nobody else can know it's me."

"I figured. Most of our regulars stayed back in the states but there's still a lot of faces that'll remember you. Stick with the newer acts. I'm warning you though, they're not going to be happy we let you join up so late."

"We can deal with that."

"Here's the plan. I've got all the tour and route info from Mr. Haly. We're staying in Bruges until tomorrow night, then we'll hit Geneva in two days. So far, the thief has struck facilities in Madrid and Paris so we have reasonable certainty of the target they'll hit on this stop. Chances are good that they'll move tomorrow instead of tonight, since they'll make a cleaner getaway if we're leaving the country."

"And you're sure this isn't a trap?"

"Not even remotely. We have to be careful."

"So, we stake out the facility in Bruges. What then?"

"If someone breaks in, we catch them. If not, we regroup here and figure out who our thief is."

"And what if there's no thief at all?"

"Then this is a trap and we get out as fast as we can."

"Dick, if we need to… are you going to be able to walk away?"

"I'm not stupid, M'gann. I know what a big risk this is and I'm not putting you in danger. I just need you to trust me."

"You know I do. I just… I'm worried, Dick."

I sit on my bunk and put my heads in my hands.

"Yeah. Me too."

After a long moment of silence, I stand up.

"We should go practice. Try to get a few sets in before the show tomorrow."

"Right."

"You must be the new flyers."

"Yup. I'm Dan Danger, that's Dawn. Danger."

"Hi," Dawn waves.

"Nice to meet you. The name's Samuel."

"Firebreather?" I ask, pretending not to know that he joined up with the circus about a year after… I left.

"Good eye, kid. You picked up good time to join up. We just had a big jump from Madrid, lucky the bug didn't hit as hard as it could've."

"What bug?"

"Kinkers getting sick left and right. It's a twenty-four-hour bug, keep your hygiene up if you don't want to be sick for your first show."

'What's a kinker?' M'gann whispers.

'A performer.'

"So, what'd you say to the big man?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he signed you on mid-tour and gave you your own sleeper. You must have said something good to convince him."

I shrug.

"Come on! A couple first of Mays? You must've."

"Maybe we're just that good," Dawn grins slyly.

Samuel looks surprised for a second, then lets out a boisterous laugh.

"If that's the case, I look forward to seeing what you can do," he gestures to the rigging set up in the middle of the tent, as a dark-haired woman lets herself drop off the tightrope into the waiting net below, "Looks like Megara just finished. The stage is yours."

About two hours later, I finish leading Dawn through some cool-down stretches. A group of roustabouts walks over once as we're about to leave the tent.

"You two must be the new act," the man on the left holds out his hand, "I'm Mike. This is Shayna and Ray."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dawn, this is my brother Dan," M'gann shakes Mike's hand. I shake Shayna's hand. Ray waves.

"We saw the end of your practice. That is a wonderful routine!" Shayna smiles, "You are aware that Mr. Haly has very high standards for his trapeze acts, no? You both have a lot of talent."

"Thank you!" Dawn smiles. I can't fight the blush on my face so instead I ask, "Have you been with the circus long?"

Mike shrugs.

"Coming up on a year and a half. Most of my family's back in Detroit so I'll probably jump ship after the next domestic tour. Can't say enough good stuff about this place, though."

"He is just missing his American fast food," Shayna teases, her voice light, "Who else would prefer French fries to all of France?"

"Well, Shay, he's got a point," Ray grins.

"He has not!" Shayna retorts, "Ray, you have barely been with us a month and already you throw around such awful accusations?"

"You're new too?" Dawn asks Ray cheerfully. Ray shrugs.

"I was in between jobs and I thought, why not? I've never worked at circus before. Probably won't stick around that much longer but it's been a lot of fun," he slings an arm over Shayna's shoulder and messes up her hair, "Lots to see, great people, and you can't beat the food."

Shayna laughs before shoving him off of her.

"We must finish packing up the sets," she says, "Please let us know if there is anything you need."

"Good to meet you," Ray smiles, holding his hand out for me to shake.

As they walk away, Dawn smiles.

"They seem nice."

"Yeah," I throw her one of the towels I brought, "Come on. I don't know about you, but I need a shower."

Thursday, November 15th, 2012

"Anyone seen the rum col?" Shayna calls as she walks through the ring. She looks exhausted and pale, plus all the other little signs that she caught whatever bug is going around. Honestly, I'm not feeling that good either. Halfway through dinner, I started feeling sick, and now I'm sure that I caught the bug too. Crappy timing to be sick before my 'first' show.

"Try the backyard," I answer without thinking, stretched out on the ground in a full split. She thanks me, turns around to head backstage, and then pauses. I look around and see she's not the only one staring at me. Then it hits me that I just answered a question with a really obscure bit of slang with even more slang that I'm not supposed to know. Oops.

"I thought you were a First of May," Megara the tightrope walker finally breaks the silence. My face blushes bright red. I just completely blew my cover as a novice performer and I have maybe ten seconds to think of a way to save the mission.

"I… um… not exactly."

The group of clowns by the front of the ring are all staring now. I'm not sure if the hostility is from the string of robberies following the circus or the irritation at having new performers join late and steal the opening spot, but neither of those things are helping. Next to me, Dawn tries not to look nervous.

"Where were you working before?" one of them asks. I see Omar standing at the back of the group with his arms crossed, frowning at me with deep focus. Shit. I've been trying so hard to stay out of the way and keep away from the seasoned performers. They can't know it's me or the thief will know we're onto them.

How do I get out of this?

"…circdesay."

"What?"

I blush even harder and say it like I'm embarrassed.

"Cirque du Soleil."

And just like that, the interrogative mood breaks. Everyone has a little bit of a laugh and looks away thinking, "No wonder he didn't want to say anything." Thank the universe that everyone hates the Cirque. That would have been embarrassing to blow my cover before we even started the first show.

"Ten minutes!" Mr. Haly shouts, striding into the tent. He's holding his red coat in one hand and his top hat and cane in the other, "Get moving!"

At his words, everyone scrambles to change from pre-show warmups to the frantic last-second scramble before the audience enters.

"Dangers!" he points at Dawn and I with the cane, "You're the top slot. Check the rigging and get up there."

I stare at the rope ladder leading up to the trapeze platform. I've climbed them thousands of times, not counting the practices M'gann and I did in the last few days. But this… the last time I climbed up to a platform during a show was the day my parents died.

'Dick, are you okay?'

'Yes.'

I grab the nearest rung and start pulling myself up. It's safe. I checked the riggings five times since dinner, not counting the last check Dawn and I did twenty minutes ago. Everything looks perfect. And even if something goes wrong, there's a net. Mr. Haly almost flipped out when I said we didn't need one, and I'm REALLY not going to argue with him there.

"Welcome! To the Haly, International Traveling Circus! Where the world of this center ring is your oyster! And these are our latest pearls! The Daring Dangers!"

Dawn nods at me from the platform on the other side.

Showtime.

I grab the bar, take a breath, and swing off the platform. On the other side, Dawn does the same. I kick my legs up, building momentum while Dawn ducks her legs up and curls her knees around the bar, hanging upside down. At the height of my swing, I tuck my knees up and let go of the bar, flipping once as I sail through the air. I straighten out and raise my arms in time for Dawn's hands to catch my wrists and the audience goes wild. She lets go of my left hand and I wave at the crowd as we swing back and forth in a one-handed grip. I grab her right arm with my left hand and we switch the grip so instead of facing forwards, I'm swinging backwards. We swing back and forth one more time to build momentum, then she swings me up and I follow the motion, using the momentum to pull my legs up and hook my ankles around the trapeze bar and the wires. At the same time, Dawn kicks her legs up and flips forward, letting go of the bar in one smooth motion so I'm holding both of us up by my feet.

That's a move that would be literally impossible if Dawn weighed anything. Flying might be cheating, but I'm not complaining. The cheers become deafening as we reach the peak of our swing, and Dawn launches herself into the air, flipping twice and landing on the platform.

Our set is ten minutes, but it feels like only seconds. The routine goes almost perfectly. By the end, I can feel myself wearing out, but a quick word to Dawn and her telekinesis makes up for the few near-misses I have.

'Grand finale.' I tell Dawn.

'Are you good?'

'Yeah, I got it.'

Dawn climbs on top of her bar, swinging herself back and forth. I'm on the other platform, holding the second bar until I can match her rhythm. I push the bar out, letting it swing freely in time with Dawn, and she jumps into the air. Legs straight in perfect gymnast form, she executes a beautiful full (360 rotation with a full twist) and catches the bar on her way down. She hooks her legs over the bar and swings towards me upside down, hands outstretched. As she swings towards me, I jump, grabbing onto her for the last maneuver. We swing once, then I kick my legs back and launch myself into the air. One flip, two, three, and I catch the swinging bar with perfect timing. The momentum is enough to carry me over to the far platform, and I land without so much as a stumble. On the other side, Dawn is beaming and we both raise our hands into the air.

I don't know how I make it down the ladder, but once my feet are back on the ground, I feel horrible. Sweat pours down my face and my whole body is shaking like I just went a hundred rounds with the entire Rogue gallery. Dawn looks at me in concern.

"And there you have it! The DARING DANGERS! Put your hands together folks, you'll never see another act like this one!"

We raise our hands into the air, Dawn putting an arm around me to help me stay on my feet.

'I didn't know if you were going to make it through.' Dawn says.

'Yeah, me neither. Can you help me backstage?'

'You think you even need to ask?'

Samuel rushes past us on our way into the backyard in full costume and makeup.

"Has anyone seen my other torch?!" he asks frantically. Ray looks up from organizing props to hold up the missing torch.

"Here. You dropped it outside the train."

"You're a lifesaver!" he exclaims, snatching it gratefully.

"Break a leg!" Ray thumps him on the back as Samuel heads out for his set. Dawn helps me over to one of the chairs by the makeup tables, and my legs give out as soon as I'm sitting.

'You look terrible.'

'Thanks.' I answer dryly.

'Are you going to be able to go tonight?'

'I have to be.'

Dawn frowns, but doesn't say anything.

The good thing about being the first act is that once we're done, we can sit back and take a breath for the rest of the show. We're tucked out of the way, enough that the other flyers don't notice us when they accost Mr. Haly as he comes back from announcing Samuel.

"Haly, what's the big deal?! Giving the top slot to those Danger kids! That's our slot!" Eduardo demands, throwing his hands out.

"Was your slot until you missed that performance in Paris," Mr. Haly growls.

"Carlo was sick! He's better now!"

'You hear that?' Dawn asks. 'Carlo missed the show in Paris.'

"Besides, how can you pick them over us?! You're just giving them special treatment because they toured with the Cirque!"

"How about you both knock it off and be glad I kept your act on the program! And next time, actually watch someone perform before you call them a hack. The day you two fly like that, top spot's yours, guaranteed."

Mr. Haly pushes past them, only to run into a man in a black suit. Even before he says anything, I know he's Interpol. It's the shoes that give him away.

"Oh, for crying out loud, you again? We're in the middle of a show!"

"Then we'll talk after. But we will talk," Mr. Interpol crosses his arms over his chest in a show of intimidation that just makes Mr. Haly fume, "Another city last night, another tech firm robbed. Another stop on your tour. If I prove you're responsible, I will shut you down."

Mr. Haly glares, a shadow darkening his face, "I've got three minutes to gather props and get back to the center ring."

He walks away without another word. I glare at the agent. He's not going to touch the circus. I won't let him. I let the glare slide off my face when suit-and-sunglasses walks up to us, flashing his badge.

"Faraday, Interpol. New act?"

"This was our first show."

"Better hope it's not your last. Word of advice, watch your backs. Something's funny with this show."

"We'll keep an eye out," I say, grinding my teeth together.

'You're sure this is the place?'

I swallow, adjusting the braces on my wrists. Instead of Robin's uniform, I'm wearing a modified version of the stealth suit. The last thing I want is for Batman to find out M'gann and I went on an unauthorized mission by seeing Robin on the Belgian news cycles.

'According to the intel Slade gave me, this is the most likely target. I've been looking over the briefing and so far, everything he's said makes sense. The only thing is that there's pieces that are left out. He didn't say what was stolen in Geneva, or why the targets are being chosen.'

'You think it's deliberate?'

'He knows more than he's telling me. I don't know if it's a trap or something else but I have to see it through.'

Sweat is beading on my forehead and I wipe it off with the back of my hand.

'How are you feeling?'

'Honestly? Like shit. But I'll make it.'

The breeze sweeps across the rooftop and I shiver.

'You know, it's probably a good thing it's just you and me.' Miss Martian says.

'Yeah?'

'Imagine if Superboy were here. Or Artemis. They'd be complaining about how we're wasting our time here or trying to figure out why we're not at any of the more obvious targets.'

I grin.

'You have a point.' I scan the area, looking for any signs of movement but it just looks like a warehouse at night. 'It would be nice to have x-ray vision right now though.'

Miss Martian frowns, turning sharply to the left.

'I'm sensing someone else in the area. Northeast quadrant!'

I turn to look and sure enough, there's someone running towards the fence. The thief pushes themselves off a lamp post and flips over the ten-foot-tall barbed wire fence, and they stick the landing smoothly. There aren't that many acrobats in the show.

'Found them! Move in.'

We follow him into the warehouse, staying out of sight. He pulls out a crowbar and pries open one of the crates, removing a high-tech motherboard.

'Caught him red-handed.' I think. 'Miss M, I've got the left, you take the right.'

'Got it.'

'We need to know who it is and stop him from getting away with the tech.'

I jump down onto a lower catwalk to get a better angle. At least, I try to. My body feels like shit from whatever bug I caught, and the performance took a lot out of me. I make the it to the next catwalk, but it's not exactly a quiet landing.

The thief whips around, staring straight up at my position.

'Shit.'

"Might as well come out," the thief says, "I know you're there."

He's wearing all black, including a ski-mask that covers his whole face. So much for getting an ID.

'What do we do?' Miss Martian asks.

'Show ourselves.'

We drop down from the scaffolding, landing together in front of him. The thief shakes his head like he's disappointed, tucking the stolen tech under his arm.

"Well, well. If it isn't the new act. I knew something didn't smell right about you two."

"Takes one to know one," I shoot back.

"Ouch. Is this the part where you try to stop me?"

"How did you know?" Miss M puts her hands on her hips.

"Call it a hunch. Sorry kids, I'm not in the mood to play games tonight."

He opens his mouth and flames shoot out. M'gann cries out as the fire rushes towards us and I pull her out of the way. I throw a birdarang that the thief ducks, but it gets him to stop breathing fire.

"Come on!" I drag M'gann out of the way, behind a stack of crates. My eyes widen when I read the label on the crates. Live ammo.

"Alright… come out, come out wherever you are," the thief calls, pacing back and forth, "I know you're here somewhere."

'There's a lot of live ammo in here. We can't risk him lighting the place on fire, we have to draw him outside.'

'How?'

'Working on it.'

I peek around the crate. The thief stopped pacing, and he's looking at the crates pointedly. He's seen the label. He takes a breath and I have a half-second to stop him from blowing us to smithereens.

'He's about to blow! Get the ammo out of the way!'

Miss M's eyes glow green, and the crates lift into the air and out of the way of the flames. Just in time.

"Nice trick," the thief growls, "You're just full of 'em, aren't you?"

I launch myself at him, aiming a punch at his face. The thief's arm snaps up blocking the blow with speed that even Slade would be impressed by. His leg slams into my knee, knocking me down while his arm hooks under my armpit and around the back of my neck in a hold I can't get out of without snapping my spine.

"And as for you… care to shed some light on how a circus performer got his hands on an experimental acceleration serum?"

"What?"

"Let him go!" Miss Martian shouts.

"I'd say this was fun, but I really don't have time for this. Got a busy day tomorrow."

With that, he lets go of the hold, but there's barely a split second to move before he throws me at the wall like I don't weigh anything.

'Robin!' Miss M shouts. I feel a tug as she catches me about three centimeters away from the wall. When I drop to the ground, the warehouse is empty.

He got away.

Dammit.

Meanwhile…

Wally West

Mount Justice

Friday, November 16th, 2012

Wally checked the monitor logs again, reassuring himself that Batman still wasn't in the Watchtower or the Cave. Wonder Woman was on monitor duty, and the Flash was on the active duty list. According to Tornado, Miss Martian had taken Rob out for a flying lesson in the bioship, so they'd be gone for a while. Conner had roped Zatanna into helping him cook dinner, and Kaldur had just left for a joint patrol with Red Arrow. This was his best shot.

"Flash, come in."

"What's up, Kid?"

"Remember that cold case I've been looking in on?"

"The one you told Roy we made a bet on?" his uncle sounded vaguely amused.

"Yeah, that one. I think I accidentally found something else. You're going to want to see it."

There was a rush of wind through the com, then the sound of the zeta beam activating. A second later, there was another rush of wind and then the Flash was standing next to him.

"What is it?"

"Look," Wally pulled up the League's satellite footage, which was zoomed in on a street in the old city of Lisbon, Portugal, "Roy gave me a lead and I thought it would help if I could see the area and instead, I found this."

"Is that…" Flash frowned, looking at the black and orange figure on top of one of the buildings. He jerked back, whipping around to look at Wally for confirmation, "Kid, when was this footage taken?"

"It's live."

"Shit! Flash to the Justice League! All available members respond. Deathstroke the Terminator spotted in Lisbon. I repeat, all available members respond! Sending coordinates now."

He flicked off his comm and turned to Wally.

"Turn your comm to the League frequency. I need you to stay here and keep tracking him. He's incredibly dangerous and very slippery. Don't lose him."

"I won't," Wally promised, heart pounding in his chest. With a nod, the Flash disappeared.

Wally held his breath, watching the dots on the GPS that represented the League members as they converged on Deathstroke's location. On the satellite feed, Deathstroke was still hunched over on top of a building, looking through a sniper scope at the building across the street. The comm in his ear was buzzing with activity, with Superman coordinating positions at supersonic speeds.

This was it.

It had to be.

Dick was counting on him.

"Stop right there."

"Superman. It's been a while. I'm flattered, the whole League is here. Well, not quite. What's the matter, I don't rate high enough for Batman to make an appearance?" Deathstroke sounded amused, and not even slightly worried that he was surrounded by the Justice League.

"Make this easy for yourself and turn yourself in," Superman announced.

"I think we both know I won't be doing that. Truthfully, I'm a bit disappointed. Where's Zatara? He put up a good fight the last time we met."

Wally scowled at the screen, wishing that he was halfway across the world so he could slap the stupid smirk off the asshole's mask. The League didn't know that Deathstroke was spying on them or that he knew exactly what Zatara's fate was. He was being an asshole just because he could.

"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint you," Wonder Woman said, pulling her lasso off her waist to heft it threateningly, "But you've been a threat for too long and your luck has finally run out."

"Has it?" Deathstroke looked up to where the Green Lantern was flying overhead, "Sending Stewart out with the heavy hitters? You're making it too easy for me. What's the matter, was Jordan too busy?"

Over the comm, Wally heard stunned gasps.

"How did you-?"

"Feeling compromised?" Deathstroke taunted.

"However you got your intel, it doesn't matter. You're going down, Deathstroke," Superman stepped forwards.

"You don't want to know my source? And here I thought curiosity was a reporter's prerogative."

Wally choked at the obvious dig at Superman's secret identity, but before anyone could react, Deathstroke was moving. He swung his sword out, swiping through the air where the Flash had been standing an instant before. The Flash dodged the series of attacks with ease until Deathstroke drove him to the left with a hand jab, and when the Flash put his foot down, the tile under his foot gave way.

Wally's heart jumped, pounding ten-thousand beats a minute as he watched his uncle fall.

The Flash let out a startled exclamation as his foot dropped through the hole in the roof, leaving him open for the hilt of Deathstroke's sword to whack him in the forehead. Wonder Woman's lasso caught his sword, holding the blow back and giving the Superman time to pull the Flash out of the trap. The Green Lantern's ring lit up, causing a glowing green ball and chain to appear around his other hand.

Deathstroke pulled against the lasso, and Wonder Woman dug her feet in to hold him.

"Hold him!" Superman shouted, setting the Flash down on the roof. Deathstroke let go of the sword suddenly, and Wonder Woman couldn't adjust for the sudden change in force. She went flying back, and as she did, Deathstroke pulled the rifle off his back and fired six shots in rapid succession. The glowing chain around his wrist faded as Green Lantern raised a shield to protect himself, and Martian Manhunter went intangible.

"Not bad," Deathstroke mused. He backed up to the edge of the roof, stowing the rifle away, "You know, it's a shame. You heroes never seem to remember the most important thing."

"And what's that?!"

"Always keep your exits covered."

Deathstroke held up a detonator and pressed the button. As soon as he did, a string of explosions rocked the base of the cathedral and spewed debris and flames into the air. A cloud of smoke erupted over four of the surrounding buildings and on screen, Wally could see the bricks and stone walls crumbling. Screams erupted over the comm line and from the aerial view, Wally could see just how many explosives the mercenary had set off.

"No!"

"Lantern, Manhunter, with me!"

Superman sped towards the rubble, holding the building up while screaming tourists fled. Green Lantern's ring lit up and a wall of green light appeared to support the crumbling cathedral. The smoke was so thick now Wally couldn't make out anything in the square around the destroyed block, but over the comms he heard screams and rushed orders in frantic Portuguese. Deathstroke tried to disappear in the chaos, but Wally saw a flash of black on a rooftop.

"Wonder Woman, Flash! Don't let him get away!" Green Lantern shouted.

"We've got him!" Flash yelled, speeding after the mercenary while Wonder Woman jumped into the air and flew overheard.

"He's moving west!" Wally told them, fighting to keep himself from shouting over the com. There was enough chaos as it was.

"Keep us posted!" Flash responded.

"This is Superman, broadcasting to all League channels. We need backup with civilian evacuations! This is an emergency, all Leaguers respond! Coordinates sent!"

Wally looked down to see a ping on his phone with the coordinates he'd spent the last half hour staring at. The zeta-beam was right behind him, and they needed backup. Should he go, or should he stay?

"Do you need my help?" Wally asked.

"No! Stay there! Kid, we need your eyes!"

Wally's heart pounded. Stay there? Out of the way? Like a good sidekick? He frowned, grabbing his phone and pushing away from the computer before he could think about it.

Wait, what was he thinking?! This wasn't about him, and it wasn't about the Flash not trusting him. This was about doing whatever it took to save Dick, and that meant doing things the League's way. He sat back down and pushed his phone to the side.

"Got it," he scanned the satellite feed, and as he did, he saw a flash of orange and black on a terra cotta rooftop, "There! Yellow building, brown roof! Across from the one with blue and white tiles!"

"I see him!" Wonder Woman shouted. Wally's head jerked up in time to see her dive down onto a rooftop with her sword drawn. Deathstroke swung around to meet the strike and the shockwave made the roof tiles shake so badly Wally could see it on the screen.

"You left innocents in danger just to chase me?" Deathstroke mocked, "Princess, I'm flattered."

"Have you no remorse for your actions?!" Wonder Woman demanded, "For all the lives you've taken?!"

"Regrets get in the way of business," Deathstroke answered, parrying her blow and redirecting the motion into a downward strike.

"You're a monster, Wilson."

"And you're too attached. Caring is a weakness. Loving people makes you vulnerable."

"What you call weakness, I call strength," Wonder Woman jumped over his leg-sweep, slamming her sword down. Deathstroke matched the strike a swung at her head, "I have no weaknesses for you to exploit."

"Incoming! Wonder Woman, keep him busy!" Flash announced over the com.

Wonder Woman's sword clashed with Deathstroke's in midair. She ducked under a kick and moved in for an elbow strike. Deathstroke swung his blade around and met the hit head-on. When he tried to push her down, she grabbed the hilt and pushed back, locking the two of them in a stalemate.

"Everyone has a weakness, Princess," Deathstroke snarled at her, fighting to overcome her raw strength. Wonder Woman's arms barely trembled, even as she dug her heels into the roof to keep herself from sliding.

"Even you?" she grinned. Even from the satellite feed, Wally could see the mercenary realize something was wrong. He could almost see Deathstroke's eye widen as he pulled back slightly and started to turn his head to look behind him. Out of nowhere, a red blur slammed into Deathstroke, fist meeting head with a deafening crack. Deathstroke crumpled to the ground like a condemned building meeting its first and last wrecking ball. Wonder Woman caught the sword before it could impale the either of them.

Flash screeched to a halt, chest heaving.

"I guess that's a yes," Wonder Woman smiled, relief clear in her voice, "Nice hit, Flash."

"Ow," the Flash shook his hand to wave off the muscle cramp, "He's got a hard head. Is he out?"

Wonder Woman nudged his shoulder with her boot. There was no response. Deathstroke stayed on the ground, motionless and unresponsive.

"He's out," she unraveled her lasso and wrapped it around his wrists and torso, "Just in case."

"Oh, thank the fucking universe," he put a hand to his ear, "This is the Flash. We got Deathstroke. Wonder Woman is securing him now."

At the words, Wally's chest sagged in relief and he let out the breath he was holding. It worked. They won.

It was over.

Deathstroke would be taken into custody, and there was no way he'd escape justice. He'd just blown up three blocks of a foreign city in broad daylight. He'd go to jail for a long time, high-security lockup at the least. Maybe even Belle Rev depending on the sentence.

Robin was safe. Dick was safe.

"Nice work. The authorities are on their way, but we'll work something out to take him back to the Watchtower. We need whatever information he has about the leak," Superman said.

"Right."

"We're gonna be a while with the evacuation. We've gotten everyone clear of the rubble, but we still have a lot more fires to put out. Literally."

"Do you need help there?"

"We're okay. Stay with Deathstroke. I'll send Green Lantern to escort you all to the Watchtower as soon as we can spare him."

"Just give me five minutes," Green Lantern said.

"Take your time," Wonder Woman assured him.

Wally couldn't say how he knew something was wrong. He looked back at the screen and frowned; he could have sworn Deathstroke had fallen on his stomach, not his side. It was only because he was looking that he said anything. The arm motion was small and blurry, but even though it was fast, it still felt like an eternity. And it felt like a perfect dream shattering into a nightmare.

"He's awake!" Wally shouted into the com, but it was too late. He didn't how bad a half-second video delay could be until a concussive grenade exploded right into his comm link. Wally winced at the deafening screech, jerking back as Wonder Woman and the Flash screamed.

A second later, he saw his uncle fly backwards off the roof while Wonder Woman stumbled. Deathstroke used the moment to rip the lasso off his arms and throw himself off the side of the roof.

"NO!" Wally shouted, trying to see where the mercenary had gone, but there was nothing.

"FUCK!" Wonder Woman recovered first, flying after him. The Flash was right behind her, a blur of red on the screen.

"Kid! Any sign of him?"

Wally scanned the screen desperately, looking for some flash of orange or black or weird movement but there was nothing. He looked faster, zooming in and out and trying to cover all the streets, but he couldn't see anything.

"No, no, no, no, no! Fuck he's… he's gone."

This was bad. This was very, very, very bad.

Dick Grayson

Haly's Circus

Friday, November 16th, 2012

12:30 pm local time

"Flag's up!" Megara shouts, peeking her head in through from the backyard.

"You kids hungry?" Samuel asks.

"We'll meet you in a few," I answer, "I have to talk to Dawn about tonight's show."

Performers trickle out of the big tent, heading for lunch, but M'gann still hasn't made any effort to move from the stretches I showed her.

"Hello? Mars to Dawn?"

She shakes her head like she's clearing her thoughts and smiles sadly at me.

"What are you thinking about?"

"It's nothing."

"No, seriously. You look like there's something you want to say."

"No, I…" I give her my most incredulous look and she sighs, "I know you're worried about everything that's going on, but you seem so happy here."

"I am happy," I pause, staring out at the stands. The international tour arranges the rings differently than the domestic one, but it still looks the same as it did the last time I was on the tour. I had just turned seven and my birthday present was that I got to fly with everyone in rehearsal the morning of the show.

My chest aches at the memory. I look up at the trapeze and all I can think about is how my family should still be up there. How much I miss watching my mom throw herself into the air and feeling my heart pound with excitement every time my dad caught her. How excited I was when I would peek out through the backyard to watch my family performing overhead and count the days until I could be up there with them all. How cool it was when Uncle Rick decided he would be the catcher for a few shows and I got to see my dad fly.

M'gann is staring at me and my stomach twists into a knot. Would even a Martian be able to pull someone out of a coma like that?

"It feels like I'm home," I exhale slowly, balling my hands into tight fists, "And every time I land a trick, I keep expecting to turn around and have my parents watching. Before we were old enough to use the trapeze, my cousin and I used to hide behind the bleachers and practice our cartwheels. We thought we were being so sneaky, but Aunt Karla would always ask us why our hands were dirty."

I miss her so much. I miss her and Johnny and Uncle Rick and my parents and the circus and suddenly the tent is suffocating me.

'I'm so sorry, Dick.'

'I'm fine, I just….' I shake my head. 'I can't let anything happen to this place. I'm scared that we're already too late, and if I'm wrong about Geneva…'

'You're right. He's not going to make a move until we get to Geneva.' M'gann assures me. 'Whatever he's planning, it's taken him at least a month to steal everything. He's not going to abandon his plans now. We get through the show, we get on the train, and whatever happens, we'll be ready.'

"Right."

7pm

'Everyone's here,' I see Shayna talking to Megara the high-line walker, finishing the headcount of the troupe as Dawn and I walk into the dining car. 'Apparently including our thief.'

'Told you that you were right. He must've left something on the train,' Dawn says as we grab plates and sit at an empty table near the wall. 'I was worried he would have made a move by now. Especially since Dawn and Dan have been exposed.'

I take a breath.

'He knows we're onto him, but with Faraday breathing down everyone's back, he wasn't going to risk making a move in Bruges. He's gotten too far to have Interpol bust him now.'

'Do you think Faraday will follow the circus to Geneva?'

'Yeah. He's obsessed with catching the thief, and he's followed Haly through seven countries at this point. I just wish we knew what the end goal was. Then we could actually use Faraday's help.'

'We just have to hope the thief keeps his cover through the train ride and we'll have another chance.'

"Mind if we join you?" Carlo asks. Dawn and I jump, and Eduardo gives us a small smile.

"Uh, sure," Dawn says.

I yawn, reaching for my coffee.

"First performance catching up to you?" Eduardo smiles.

"He's just a coffee addict," Dawn grins. I roll my eyes at her.

"We were both wiped after the show, plus I think I caught whatever weird bug's going around yesterday," I say.

"It's nasty. I had it a few days ago," Carlo agrees.

"Look, we… uh… wanted to apologize to you guys. Stuff has been pretty tense around here lately, but that's no excuse for being assholes."

"We watched your act and it blew our minds. Your triple has enough momentum to hit the fourth flip. You know the last time someone on this show could turn a quad?" Carlo asks. I flinch.

Eduardo cuts in, grinning madly at Dawn, "And that jump you did? Carlo would have to sprout wings to get that much air."

Carlo nods.

"We get why Haly let you on. So, from one family act to another, we want to officially welcome you to the troupe."

"Thank you, guys. That's so sweet," Dawn smiles.

"Of course, growing up in Panama is a lot different now," Carlo says.

"When we go back, it's like a completely different country. But then the little panadería is still there between the skyscraper and the new mall."

"Does it still feel like home?"

"Oh, of course. When you open the door and mamá is making a pot of sancocho the same way her mother and her mother's mother made it, it's always home."

The door opens. Ray walks in, pushing a dolly with a trunk on it. Dawn and I look at each other.

"How long has Ray been here?" I ask, frowning.

"About a month, I think."

"And the robberies?"

Carlo and Eduardo frown.

"Ray wouldn't do something like that."

"Do you think?"

"Good to see you're all making nice," Ray grins at Carlo as he passes us, "Thought you two had picked yourselves some new mortal enemies."

"We've talked it out," Carlo says.

"What's in the box?" Eduardo asks, trying not to sound suspicious. Ray shrugs.

"Audio equipment Mike asked me to move. It weighs a frickin' ton."

"Do you need help?" Dawn offers. Ray smiles.

"As a matter of fact… mind if I take your telekinesis?" Ray bares his teeth in a menacing grin, grabbing Dawn's shoulder. She stiffens, face getting pale. The look of Ray's face changes to feral delight, "Well isn't that a surprise?"

"Let go of her!" I shout, grabbing her arm and wrenching her out of Ray's grip. Carlo and Eduardo shoot to their feet, eyes blazing.

Ray's eyes glow green and an invisible force sends us all flying to the back of the dining car. Tables, chairs, people, everything. People shout in panic and in pain. I hit the ground, trying to cover Dawn and my head at the same time so we don't get pelted by flying furniture.

When the dust settles, I uncurl from around Dawn.

"Are you okay?" I ask. She nods.

"Dan, he took my powers! How did he do that?!"

"He's the Parasite. One of Superman's enemies," I answer, "I can't let him get away."

"I'm coming with you," Dawn uses me to pull herself to her feet. I think about telling her no way in hell am I letting her risk her life without powers, but she's M'gann. She's stubborn and it's not just her powers that make her dangerous. Plus, if she hasn't changed forms, she's still got some power left.

"Let's go."

We run out of the dining car, but the next hallway is empty. The door at the far end snaps shut but there's no sign of him through the window.

"He's gone topside! I'll stall him, you catch him on the other side."

"Right."

I throw the car door open and launch myself up, grabbing the roof to pull myself up. M'gann runs into the next car.

"Parasite!" I shout, stopping him before he flies off the train with whatever's in that trunk. All the stolen tech, I bet.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"What do you want with this stuff? Why are you framing the circus?"

"The circus? You really think I give a damn about this rat-infested hole? I've got plans, kid, ones that you're standing in the way of. So, in the spirit of fair play, I'll give you one chance to get out of my way."

"Pass."

"How much is Haly paying you for this? However, much it is, you could make a hell of a lot more on my side of it. We could use someone like you."

I hesitate. Robin never gets offers to switch sides (not counting Slade). Maybe I can play along.

"…who's we?"

"They call us Intergang. You and I, we can help each other."

I take a step back and Parasite's eyes glint victoriously. He thinks he hit something, "What makes you think I need help?"

"It's obvious you're running from something. Or maybe someone."

"How do you—"

"I took your powers, remember. All your acrobatics, all your combat skills, I know exactly what you're capable of. Someone spent a lot of time and effort training you to fight. And now you're running around with a disguised Martian, pretending to be brother-and-sister so you can scratch out a living in a circus? You need friends, kid. Protection. Intergang could use talent like you. And all you have to do is walk away from this."

He gestures back toward the train.

"Go back down there, tell 'Dawn' that everything's fine. Finish the tour. We'll contact you."

I look down, partly so he doesn't notice Dawn climbing onto the roof behind him.

"Well, kid? Do we have a deal?"

"Pass."

I flick my fingers, letting the explosive birdarangs fly. Parasite's eyes glow green and he catches them in midair, flinging them out to the sides telekinetically.

"Sorry to hear that," Parasite shakes his head, "But not as sorry as you're going to be when I tear Geneva apart."

He flies into the air, the trunk lifting off the roof and following him. I launch myself into the air, grabbing onto the side of the trunk and pulling myself on top. I jump off, throwing myself at Parasite, grabbing at the pouch on his belt. My hand closes around a something small and flat just as he says, "Sorry. No hitchhikers."

His fist slams into my chest, knocking me backwards. I fall, my back slamming against the roof of the train. I grunt in pain as the wind gets knocked out of me again, scrabbling to grab onto something as I careen over the side.

"No!" Dawn shouts, and then her hand closes around my wrist. She grunts, trying to hold both our weight but I can feel us both slipping.

"There!" someone else shouts, then more hands grab me and pull me back into the train through the window. My head aches from slamming into the roof, but when the dizziness fades, I'm lying on my back in the destroyed dining car, surrounded by the worried members of the troupe.

"Kid, are you okay?" Carlo demands.

"That was insane!" Samuel barks, but his hands are shaking, "You could have gotten killed!"

The door to the car flies open and Dawn bursts inside.

"Dan!"

"Good catch," I give her a hazy thumbs up, and she throws her arms around me. When she pulls back, everyone is still staring at us.

"What the hell just happened?" someone demands.

"Why did Ray… how did Ray attack us?"

"Ray was just a disguise for the supervillain known as Parasite. He has the power to drain people's skills and abilities. He's been using all of your abilities to commit the robberies across Europe. That's why the 24-hour bug has been going around."

"What does he want?"

"I'm not sure, but whatever it is, Dawn and I will stop him."

"This is what you do now?" a voice asks solemnly from the back of the car. I look up and my heart misses a beat. Omar the clown and Carlotta the animal trainer, the two longest-standing members of the troupe, are staring at me like they've just put together all the pieces of a puzzle.

"We're going to catch him, but he's not going to come back here. The circus is safe."

Carlotta smiles at me as she moves through the crowd of shaken performers, all warmth and deep-seated wrinkles.

"Such a brave boy," she says, kissing the top of my forehead, "Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I… I promise."

"And come back to visit us without all this silly getup. Your hair looks ridiculous."

I can't help the laugh as she tugs on my bleached-blond hair. I squeeze her hand tightly.

"You have my word."

"Dan, we need to go. Parasite has a big head start and he's got all of my powers."

"Right," I turn back to Carlotta and Omar, "Please, don't tell anyone I was here."

"You have our word."

"Who is—" Eduardo whispers, but Megara elbows him and cuts him off.

"Bioship?"

"Let's go," Dawn nods.

I hesitate, turning back to the assembled performers who just saved my life and also probably figured out my secret, "Good luck with the rest of the tour."

9:30 pm

"This would be a hell of a lot easier with my flash drive," Parasite grumbles. He's dropped the Ray disguise, and he's a hell of a lot uglier now. He plus the three-pronged key into the computer terminal and the whole display light up blue, "There. Now let's fire this baby up and see what's left of Geneva when we're done.

The collider lights up blue, one concentric circle at a time. My ears pop as the pressure in the room changes suddenly.

"We have to get him away from the computer so we can disengage it."

"I'll distract him, you get to the computer."

"No! You don't have your powers, it's too dangerous. I'll distract him, you get the key out of the machine. That's what's powering it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. We don't have time, go now."

The machine starts whirring and deafening thunder cracks outside.

Miss Martian nods and disappears into the shadows. She's getting good at that; almost good enough to be a Bat.

"What do you have against Geneva anyway?" I ask, stepping out into the light with my hands on my hips.

"You just don't stop, do you?"

"Never been a fan of people trying to rip the fabric of space-time apart," I shoot back.

"You know, somehow I'm not surprised. We do have some time to kill before my machine warms up and tears the city apart, so tell you what. Let's have story time before I pulverize you."

His eyes light up green and then a crushing force lifts me into the air and slams me into the ground in front of him. Parasite cracks his knuckles, grinning in vicious delight.

"Your little friend was a beautiful surprise. Nothing quite like the taste of a Martian. What's her story? As far as I know, there's only one Martian on the planet and I hear he's got quite a temper. How'd he like to know there's another one hiding out here?"

I see M'gann creeping along the back wall and pretend to struggle against Parasite's grip.

"No!"

"Oh? So there is a story there. How did a Martian and a science experiment end up as a crime-fighting duo anyway?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I spit back.

"In any case, it's a shame she abandoned you to face me alone. Unless she's hiding around here somewhere. What's it going to take to flush her out?"

He closes his fist and I cry out as the pressure around me gets even tighter.

"She's not here," I grunt, but even though the telekinetic grip is still tight the pain is already fading, "Too dangerous—she doesn't have her powers."

"So you thought you could stop me alone. That's funny," Parasite laughs, "Though as far as you go… acrobatics, combat skills, and you're no Superman, but the strength and accelerated healing were a nice boost. I meant what I said before. You weren't with the League of Shadows, were you?"

"What are you talking about?! I don't have powers!"

"Oh, don't you?"

His eyes glow green again and then the force holding me down becomes a crushing weight.

"AGH!"

M'gann freezes, one hand on the glowing blue key that's powering the massive boson collider. I shake my head as much as I can manage, telling her to keep going. We have to shut down the machine or the whole city's toast.

"That grip is strong enough to shatter an adult human's ribcage, and look at you. Still in one piece. Not for long though."

"No!" I shout as Parasite closes the distance between us and puts a hand on my chest. When he pulls away, I feel dizzy and sick and empty, just like I did when I thought I caught the bug.

"Thanks for the snack, kid. This has been fun; I was worried this whole trip would be boring."

I slump forwards, feeling so drained I can barely sit up. Parasite laughs.

"Any second now, my machine will rip a hole in the fabric of space-time, and you'll be caught dead in the middle."

"I don't think so," Miss M announced.

"What the… hey!" Parasite's eyes light up as he whips around, but M'gann jumps over the control panel and out of the way, key in hand. The blue lights are fading fast and after a second, the whole machine goes dark, "You're gonna regret that!"

"And you'll regret this!" I launch myself at Parasite, aiming a punch at his head. His arm snaps up, blocking my fist and twisting my arm back. I try to pull out of the hold but he's faster and my whole body feels sluggish. A kick in the back with the force of a freight train sends me flying. I hit the ground hard but I force myself roll out of the way of Parasite's foot.

"Sloppy. I have all your fighting skills, remember?"

"That's not all you have," I grunt, throwing myself out of the way of another kick. Parasite is too concerned with crushing me into a powder that he doesn't notice the trail of gunpowder following me.

"I'm clear!" M'gann shouts, and without hesitating I throw an explosive into the trail of powder. The device explodes and the powder ignites, sending a ring of fire shooting up around Parasite.

"Missed me!" Parasite shouts, "You think I'm afraid of a little fire?!"

"I think you should be… that is, if you've taken on a Martian's powers. And weaknesses."

"What?! No! No!" he shouts, trying to escape the ring of flames, but the closer he gets the harder it is for him to stand, "This won't… no! No…"

Parasite slumps over, unconscious. I dash through the flames and slap a pair of power damping cuffs over his wrists. As soon as they're on, I let out a breath. The flames die out as the last of the powder burns away, leaving us alone with an unconscious villain and a depowered particle accelerator. M'gann and I look at each other, breathing heavily and flooded with the post-victory adrenaline.

We did it. It's over. We saved everyone. Everything's going to be okay.

My comm beeps suddenly and I play the message without thinking.

"Robin," Batman growls, "You better have a good explanation."

Oh shit.

11:20 pm local time

We're an hour into the flight back from Geneva when M'gann clears her throat hesitantly.

"What did Parasite mean that you're a science experiment?"

"I don't know."

"He said you had powers. Strength and accelerated healing."

I swallow, tightening my hands into fists.

"I… have no idea."

"Dick."

"Look, if he's right… it's not like I woke up one day and I could bench press a truck. It's just a lot of little things that I didn't even notice until I—"

"What?"

"Punched a tree down with my bare hands."

"What?!"

"That was my reaction. I think I found an injection site, but I don't know what it is or when it's from."

"Dick, what are you going to do?"

"M'gann, what the fuck can I do? I literally have no idea what's happening, all I know I punched down a tree and found and injection site on my arm. If he's injecting me with something, I have no idea and even if I knew what he was doing, I can't stop him."

"What?! You're just going to let him?!"

"I don't have a choice! What am I supposed to say? Threatening to kidnap me and hurt my family and expose my secret ID is okay, but injecting me with chemicals is where I draw the line?"

"This isn't okay! He's hurting you! He's making you lie to everyone and go behind Batman's back, and now he's injecting you with stuff against your will!"

"Then tell me what to do! He doesn't care about who he has to hurt! If I do what he wants, then I'm the only one he hurts."

"You have to tell the League! We'll only have a chance to stop him if everyone knows what they're dealing with. Isn't it worth trying?"

"Well, what about you? Why haven't you told the team your secret if it's that easy?"

M'gann freezes.

"I…"

"I know you're trying to help, but you of all people understand why I'm scared."

"Robin…"

"You think I'm not scared, M'gann?! Slade's injecting me with some kind of experimental chemical and there's literally nothing I can do about it! I don't even remember him doing it! I would give anything for a way to make him go away but there isn't one that doesn't include him ruining my life and hurting the people I care about!"

"He's already ruining your life."

"I can't risk him going after the people I care about."

"But if we go after him together, we can stop him. He's only one bad guy. He's not going to be able to stand against the entire team and the League."

"I…I'll think about it."

Bruce Wayne

The Batcave

Friday, November 16th, 2012

"What do you mean he got away?" Batman thundered over the viewscreen. Martian Manhunter winced, but Wonder Woman crossed her arms over her chest.

"He detonated a series of explosions in a heavily populated area to split us up. Then he caught the Flash and I off guard and we lost him in pursuit."

Batman scowled.

"Do we have any leads on his current whereabouts?"

"We've alerted the Portuguese government to be on high alert in case he tries to leave by plane, but Wilson always has a dozen backups," Wonder Woman answered.

"It was pure luck that Kid Flash managed to intercept him. If Deathstroke is truly capable of evading five high-powered members of the league, then he's a much bigger threat than we realized. His capture needs to be made a higher priority," Batman said.

"It's not just his physical skills that make him dangerous," Superman added.

Batman could feel a headache coming on.

"Do I want to know?"

"He's got inside information on the League. Whatever leak we have, he's part of it somehow."

"And by inside information, you mean…"

"Our identities are compromised. I don't know the extent of it, but mine and both Lanterns are definitely out."

It was only by decades of training in restraint and self-control that Batman managed to stop himself from letting loose with a string of expletives that would make even a five-thousand-year-old Amazonian warrior princess blush.

"Scrub the League systems of any personal or sensitive data. Hard copies only, absolutely nothing digitized. There can be no ties to anyone's personal identity. From now on, finding the leak is our first priority. Alert the other members that I'm shutting down access to the League mainframe and re-configuring all of the security systems. Anyone needing to access the mainframe can do so in person through the Watchtower's computer."

Robin was going to hate that, Batman realized as Superman left to make the announcement. He'd understand that it was just a temporary measure, though.

"Who's on duty tomorrow?"

"I am," Martian Manhunter replied, "I will review the footage Kid Flash managed to collect and attempt to discern how Deathstroke made his escape."

"I'm going to issue a statement tomorrow to the people of Lisbon. We managed to prevent any casualties, but the damage he caused was extensive. It's a heavily touristed area and the locals are worried this attack will severely deter visitors. We're going to pledge our aid with some of the reconstruction efforts and try to make people feel safe," Wonder Woman said.

"The League will also pledge funds to aid the locals and rebuild the homes that were damaged," Batman decided. The government would prioritize the landmarks that drew income, while ignoring the people who lived there and actually needed help. Unfortunately, the help the League could give was limited.

"It would have been much worse had the League not been there," Manhunter said, sensing Batman's train of thought. Batman frowned.

"We weren't expecting to face him. Deathstroke has kept a low profile for years. He had the element of surprise and he knew it. We'll be prepared the next time and we'll face and catch him on our terms," Wonder Woman crossed her arms over her chest, staring Batman down. Considering how much she hated losing a fight, it actually reassured him to hear that the Amazonian's confidence was unshaken. He nodded at her, just enough that she would see her declaration had had the desired effect.

"We'll discuss the situation further at the next League meeting. Batman out."

The screen went dark and Batman sighed. He'd always suspected Deathstroke's retreat from high-profile jobs was temporary, but that didn't mean he was thrilled at the prospect of dealing with the mercenary again. Wilson was smart, skilled, ruthless, and a complete bastard. On the bright side, it would feel good to punch him in the face again. Before any punching could take place, the League's security systems needed a complete overhaul. Doing it remotely would be a pain, but he didn't trust anyone else to handle it and spending that much time at the Watchtower would eat up all the time he set aside for the kids.

Speaking of, Dick needed to be informed about the access restrictions on the League's mainframe. Batman checked the time to confirm that the Team's training session had ended, then opened up a line on his com.

"Robin, come in."

No answer. That was inconvenient. Calling his cell phone sent him to voicemail. Almost on a whim, he pulled up the GPS tracker on Robin's utility belt. When the screen came up, Batman frowned.

That couldn't be right.

"Batman to Red Tornado."

"This is Tornado."

"Who's at the cave?"

"Currently, Superboy, Aqualad, Artemis and Zatanna are present."

"Where are the others?"

"Kid Flash was called away by the Flash approximately an hour ago. Records indicate Miss Martian and Robin departed on Wednesday for a flying lesson."

"Wednesday?"

"Correct."

"Where is the ship?"

"Current location is in the outskirts of Geneva, Switzerland."

Batman's scowl deepened into a full Batglare as he looked at the GPS tracker that confirmed Robin was really, truly in Geneva. Without asking or bothering to inform him where he was going.

That was unacceptable.

Dick Grayson

Wayne Manor

"How could you go to Europe on an unauthorized mission without asking me?!"

"You're such a control freak! You have to control everything I do!"

"That was reckless and an unacceptable risk!"

"Unacceptable risk?! It's Haly's! It's my family, Bruce! What was I supposed to do, let the whole circus take the fall for Parasite?! And if I hadn't, he would've opened a black hole in the middle of Geneva! So, you're welcome and sorry I'm an incapable, reckless idiot who wants to keep his family safe! And if you forgot, family means the people you care about and protect."

"Go to your room," Bruce growls.

"Sir, yes sir," I spit, putting my hand to my forehead in a mockery of a salute.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson

The Batcave

Monday, November 19th, 2012

"Where do you think you're going?" Batman crosses his arms over his chest, turning around so he's blocking me from the Batmobile.

"I'm coming with you."

"I need a partner I can trust."

The words hurt like a knife through my chest but I clench my teeth together and push through it.

"You're not leaving me behind," I cross my arms over my chest to mirror him, nodding my head subtly at where my motorcycle is parked. Batman's eyes narrow, but he knows that even if he doesn't let me come with him, I'll follow anyways.

"Fine. But you will follow my instructions. Exactly."

Control freak. But instead of saying that and actually getting myself benched, I nod.

"Fine."

A few seconds and an underground tunnel exit later, the Batmobile is racing through Gotham's streets towards the city.

"What do you think is happening?" I ask. It's been a little while since the Batsignal has been lit, so it could really be anyone.

"Not sure," Batman answers shortly.

"Two-Face? Poison Ivy? Joker?"

"Not. Sure."

"You take point, I've got the henchmen and death traps?"

"Not the time, Robin!" Batman growls. His foot slams on the accelerator and the Batmobile lurches around a sharp turn.

"Sorry," I roll my eyes at the window.

The Batmobile pulls to a stop outside the police department, and the instant the roof pulls back, Batman and I jump out. It takes ten seconds for our grappling guns to bring us to the top of the police station, where Commissioner Gordon waits by the Batsignal.

He turns off the light when he sees us.

"That was fast," he comments, holding out a manila folder. Batman immediately flips through it while I crane my head to see, fighting back a growl of frustration when he makes no effort to show me the files.

"Kidnappings, six of them," Gordon tells me. His eyes flick back and forth between me and Batman. He knows us well enough that he can tell something's off, "Victims are between twenty-eight and sixty. Three work in a gallery in the Arts district, Laverna's. One restorer at the GMA. The other two are local artists."

"Dammit," Batman flicks a picture at me and my hand snaps up to catch it. It's a canvas on an easel, with a green question mark spray painted across the whole thing.

"Riddler."

Gordon nods, "Unfortunately. He's been quiet since his Arkham breakout. We were hoping he was planning to keep that going bit longer. My boys found a calling card at Laverna's and we've got analysts trying to figure out the puzzle now."

"Send me pictures of whatever you found. I'll start at the museum. Have forensics catalog every paint, brush and canvas brand on the workspace, along with any famous pieces that are in the vicinity."

Gordon turns to relay the instructions over the radio, and Batman and I don't waste any time. Batman fires his grappling gun across the street, where it catches on the second floor of an office high-rise. I let out a cackle and throw myself forwards into a free-fall. Just because he wants to take the long way down doesn't mean that I have to.

I lean forwards and tuck my legs in, executing a perfect double flip before extending my arms and catching onto a street lamp. When my palms close around the metal bar, I kick my legs forwards to gain momentum and I release the bar and flip backwards before landing softly on the pavement. The Batmobile is just around the corner and I slide into the passenger seat, pulling up a map of the Art district.

"Three flips was unnecessary," Batman appears in the seat next to me.

"It was efficient," I snap.

Batman pulls on the stick shift and the Batmobile roars into gear. We speed through the streets, rounding tight corners and dodging and weaving through traffic. Batman stops between a Brownstone and a Highrise right behind the Gotham Museum of Fine Art.

The sight of it makes my stomach twist. If Batman was telling the truth, Selina is going to start working there soon, like that fixes the fact that she's a criminal and a thief and a liar. There's no way in hell I'm going in there.

"I'll check out the first studio," I say, reaching for my grappling gun. It's only three blocks from here.

I climb out of the car and aim my grappling gun at the ledge of the Brownstone. Before I can fire it, Batman grabs my wrist.

"You need to be careful," he says, "You got lucky at the Ice Fortress, and I don't need you getting hurt because you're distracted."

"I've got this."

Batman stares at me and it's the longest minute of my life. But he doesn't say anything. He just nods and lets go of my wrist. With him, that's as much as I could hope for.

I shake my head and head for the studio.

Artists don't have a lot of money for security. The first studio has an alarm that hasn't been turned on in about two months. To be fair, it's not like there's a lot worth stealing in here. No offense to Bart Fisher, but his stuff just isn't worth anything close to a Klimt or a Monet. Not that it isn't well-made, but looking at the half-finished canvases lying around the space, he knows how good those are.

I glance at a few more canvases and my opinion shifts a little. His stuff is really good. Most of it looks like a cross between two different famous paintings.

There's a tall easel in the middle of the room closest to the window with a mostly-finished painting on it. The top half looks like an exact replica of Klimt's "Woman in Gold." The bottom half is done in pointillism, a representation of Seurrat's "A Sunday Afternoon."

It's a really cool painting. But is it a Riddler clue?

I look around the space, being careful not to touch or move anything. There are no question marks anywhere, so it's not going to be one of those glaringly obvious clues he leaves sometimes.

There's a mix of different paints on the stool next to the easel, so there's probably not a clue in the paint type. But something on the palate catches my eye. The board is covered in oil paints, half-dried but still a little wet. That means Bart was painting with them recently, within the last day or two.

But the painting on the easel is dry. Once I notice that, I realize I missed something even more obvious. The palate is full of reds and pinks and whites. The painting on the canvas is full of green and blue, with streaks of gold.

This wasn't the last painting he was working on. Someone switched them.

I stop to take pictures of everything before I (carefully) tear through the studio, looking around the canvases for the latest piece. It doesn't take too long to find it. It's leaning against the desk, a large canvas that looks like it was barely started. There's a lot of reds smeared across the top, but the rest of the canvas is blank.

Is that a clue?

I glance over the papers on top of the desk. They're all concept sketches for a piece. The one on top is split in half horizontally, with a sketch of a soup can on the bottom and a series of abstract shapes on the top half. The top of the page says, "Distracans," Which isn't a word, even for me.

Unless it's a portmanteau. In which case it's actually Distra-cans. The top painting is probably called something like "Distra."

The other papers also have some names on them, namely Warhol—which confirms the soup cans—and Garland, who I've never heard of, but Batman might have.

I snap more pictures and take another look around, but this is a good start.

The next studio is only eight blocks away, but when I'm halfway there, an electronics store alarm goes off. I switch direction mid-swing and land on the roof of the store. The Riddler can wait a little longer.

There's a guy in a ski mask by the front door with a machine gun. Talk about overkill. He's lookout, but a quick glance around shows that they don't have anyone guarding the backdoor. They even left their van unattended and unlocked in the small alley between the Best Buy and the Abercrombie, with all the doors open to make a quick getaway.

Amateurs.

First things first, I jump over the side of the roof and land on top of the van before sliding into the driver's seat.

"Really? You left the keys in?" I shake my head, "Guys, come on."

There's a jacket and another ski mask on the passengers' seat. I wonder what would happen if I put them on and pretended to be their getaway driver. Would they realize anything was up before we pulled up to the police station?

I pull the keys out of the transmission, grinning at the thought. Then I hop out of the car, lock the doors and stick the keys in my utility belt. I'll give them to the police later. In the meantime, that should be a nice surprise if any of them get away.

A quick head count gives me six armed idiots robbing an electronics store. They're all armed, which is annoying, mostly because it's complete overkill and that means these guys are mostly likely amateurs and nervous. And nervous idiots with guns are really dangerous. I could charge in, which would guarantee that they start shooting, destroy the store and probably hurt someone, or I could wait for them to try and make their getaway. They don't have any hostages, so there's not really a hurry. Besides, the less property damage that gets caused the better.

The wait is actually pretty short. After they finish loading up the duffel bags with stolen goods, the rush out of the store for the van. As soon as the last one is out of the store, I drop down behind them silently. I grab the first guy by the shoulder and throw him backwards before he can make a sound. Number two turns at the noise and I punch him in the face, knocking him out with one hit. That's about when they realize their getaway van is locked, and the four remaining guys turn around in time to see me hit guy number three in the chest with a side-kick, followed by an elbow strike to the temple.

"Shit! It's Robin!"

I hear a safety click and throw myself into the air, diving out of the way of the bullets.

"Dude stop!"

"You're gonna hit us!" another yells. They're too busy yelling that they don't notice the birdarang that hits the wall between them, letting off a cloud of knockout gas. Two identical thuds mean they're both out. I throw one more birdarang, knocking the gun out of number six's hand. He puts his fists up to fight, but I block a sloppy punch and answer with an uppercut. Number six drops. A duffle bag filled with stolen electronic falls to the ground, and I pull it off the guy's shoulder.

"Robin, status report," Batman's voice fills my ear.

"Checked out the first studio and stopped a robbery on the corner of East and 42nd. I have six dumb-and-dumbers and some stolen tech with me. They're taken care of. Do you need any help?"

"Negative. I'll call Gordon and have him send out a squad. Rendezvous on the GE building when you're done."

And just like that, I'm stuck waiting around for the cops to show up, while Batman tracks the Riddler down.

It's so unfair.

I wanted to check out the other studio before Batman and I meet up, but now I'm not going to have time to. That means he's checked out five places in the time it took me to do one. I climb up to the balcony and let my legs dangle over the store's sign. The robbers are still tied up, but someone has to keep an eye on them. I stare out over the city and huff. This part is so boring. I can't even put the stolen stuff back because the police have to catalog it as evidence.

While I'm waiting, I look back over the pictures from the first studio. Was the clue the finished painting on the easel or the red one by the desk? Or did I miss it entirely? I haven't seen anything in the news lately about a Klimt or a Seurat, but I know the GMA has some of both artists' works. But if the Riddler was planning to hit the museum for a painting, why did he kidnap a restorer? Better question, why did he kidnap so many artists?

I snort. Maybe he wanted a portrait done.

Finally, I can hear a cop car approaching. Perfect. I have enough time to get to the roof so I can make sure the robbers are taken care of without letting the police see me. It's not that I don't trust them, but I've gotten into some uncomfortable situations with the cops that I'd love to avoid. Like that one cop who really wanted to know if Batman slept upside down, like a real bat. That guy was seriously creepy, but he was persistent. I had to give him props for that, even if the rest of him was underwhelming.

I pull out my grappling gun and swing up to the next roof. I make my way three blocks north when I get a weird feeling, like someone's watching me. There's an alley between the apartment building I'm standing on and the shorter building next to it, so I swing down and drop onto the street. I pull out a birdarang and scan the alleyway. The streetlight flickers, illuminating the shadows for a second before burning out, and I see a flash of orange.

The next second, it's gone so I shake my head to clear it. There's no way Slade would actually be following me. Even if there was, he's still out of the country on whatever contract he took. But judging from the heavy footsteps, there's someone in the alley. They've probably seen me, so better to spring the trap on my own time.

I move forwards slowly, watching the shadows carefully. It's a dark night and it's impossible to make out anything beyond the side of the apartment complex. I step into the shadows, letting the darkness wrap around me. The lenses in my mask adjust quickly and I can make out the outline of a pair of trash cans. I walk towards the end where the two buildings converge, keeping my breathing quiet and my footsteps silent.

A strong wind knocks the cans against the wall and flares my cape out around me, but the sound helps mask the tap of my boots against the pavement. The wall is right in front of me and I reach out my free hand to judge the distance when my gloved fingers slide against the rough surface. I pull them away from the wall while I rub them together to gauge the slipperiness.

There's something wet on the wall. Thankfully, it smells like fresh spray-paint.

I transfer the birdarang to my other hand and pull out a flashlight from my utility belt. Right behind me, cloth ruffles and there's a soft whine, like something electronic charging. Instinct throws the birdarang and launches my grappling gun at the apartment. There's a grunt of pain followed by a burst of electricity. I shoot up into the air, shining my flashlight down into the alley as I do. The light glints off the henchman's eyes, making him flinch. The light also illuminates the modified taser in his hands.

I climb onto the fire escape just in time to dodge a trash can lid. Below me, the henchman is shouting threats and he reaches for one of the cans.

I shine the flashlight down towards the wall, looking at the Riddler-commissioned graffiti. It's the word "Distraction" in bright green and orange paint. I grin.

"Batman, come in. I found something."

Then I flip into the air, soaring over the trash can which crashes into the wall and lands with a clatter on the fire escape. I fall, feet connecting squarely with the henchman's chest. He hits the ground and in an instant, I have a pair of bat-cuffs around his wrists.

"Where?"

"East and 39th."

"Distraction," I say as soon as Batman lands on the roof next to me, "Fisher was working on a cross between a Warhol and a Garland, he called it Distracans. Assuming the '-cans' was for the soup, the Garland piece was called Distrac-something."

I send him the search through my holocomputer.

"I searched Garland Distraction and sure enough, the Gotham Fine Arts' Commission is hosting a showing with Garland's newest work as the centerpiece. The exhibit opens in two weeks. Quick check into the bios of the other hostages, Hadley Mason was in the same year as Garland at the Savannah College of Art. Two of the other hostages are professional restorers, one who specializes in Pop-art, cubism and post-modernism."

Batman doesn't say anything, but his glare deepens.

"Did you miss the part that Riddler is telling us he's distracting us?"

"Batman, that's the name of the painting. He kidnapped all those painters to make a copies and switch it for the real one!"

"That's one possibility," Batman says, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Fine! What did you find?"

"An address," he holds out a business card.

"I thought we weren't to get ahead of ourselves. How do you know it's not just a distraction?"

"Read it."

There are black letters printed onto white cardstock with a logo of a P decorated to look like a sun. The words are complete gibberish.

"It's a cipher?"

"The symbol was used as an identification mark on Rookwood pottery, an American pottery company founded in 1880. The identifying marks left by each individual artist were known as ciphers. This one belonged to Edward Hurley, initials ETH. The first five letters on the card correspond to R,P,E,T and H. Solving the cipher gives an address in the arts district."

"You figured all that out on the way over here?"

"No. I had the card deciphered before you called."

"So I've just been slowing you down this whole time?"

Batman turns away.

"Let's go."

The address turns out to be an old art gallery. There's nothing in the display windows and it looks like it's been sitting empty for years. But there's a big green, "Le Gentilé Gardener" sign.

"Nigma, you ass," Batman mutters, glaring at the sign.

"What?"

"The Gardener Museum heist was the largest art theft in history. The value of the paintings is estimated at $10 million and none of the paintings have been recovered. Back in 2010, Robert Gentile was charged as an accomplice, but its likely he was the fence for thieves."

"So it's basically the Riddler's idea of a joke?"

"At least we can be sure he's stealing art."

"How are we going in?"

"Roof."

I pull out my grappling gun and follow him up the fire escape. There's a raised glass ceiling that looks down into the gallery below. It's a classic Riddler setup.

"Are we going straight down?" I point at the glass. Batman rubs his eyes with one hand, and I don't have to be a Martian to know that he's thinking about all the Riddler lairs he's had to smash through the roof of.

"No."

He pries open the maintenance hatch that leads down to the gallery. We climb down service stairs, and split up at the top floor. I sweep for traps while he combs the building for henchmen.

"No sign of anyone," I report after checking the last room on the floor.

"Take the second floor but stay vigilant. Riddler's men were here."

"You found the break room?" I ask. Batman grunts, which means 'yes and it's empty, so there's an unknown number of henchmen in the building along with the Riddler and I hate not knowing how many or where they are.'

I take the main staircase down to the second floor and the door opens onto a landing overlooking the main floor. There's a big curtain wrapped around the presentation stage, and the room looks like a dusty, abandoned ballroom. It's creepy. It gets even creepier when I open the first door. It's an office that's empty except for a desk and a bookshelf covered by a white sheet. There's an archway on the back wall that leads to another hallway, and I feel like I'm in an episode of Scooby-Doo when the hallway is lined with doors on either side.

"Anything?" I ask Batman over the comm.

"No."

"This place is super creepy. And spider-webby."

"Yes," Batman agrees.

The doors at the far end of the hall creaks open slowly and I tense, grabbing a birdarang. But nothing happens after. I let out a huff. There's no way I'm falling for that.

"If this is some weird version of hide-and-seek, I'm not playing," I announced loudly. After a few seconds of bone-chilling quiet, a loud tapping sound emerges from behind the door, echoing down the hallway. It's exactly the sound a carbon-fiber cane hitting painted drywall makes. My eyes basically roll themselves, "Are you seriously standing there tapping your cane on the wall? I can't even see you and I know you look like an idiot right now."

The tapping sound gets louder and I give up. I'm not walking into a trap. If he wants me to fall for it, he's going to have to do better.

"Batman, this building is a bust. He's not here. Let's try the next one," I say, not actually turning my comm on. The Riddler lives to outsmart Batman, but if I get in the way, that ruins all the fun for him. He's even easier to bait than the Joker. Sure enough, the door slides all the way open, revealing the Riddler leading casually on his question-mark cane. He's still standing inside the room, which means he could be a projection. I'm too far away to know for sure.

"Spoiling the fun already, bird brain?"

"You might not have a life, but I have better stuff to do than hide behind a door in the dark," I retort, "You didn't even make a tapping machine, did you? You were actually standing there with that stupid cane the whole time!"

"If games aren't doing it for you, then maybe you can handle a riddle," the Riddler grins, "What can you go over, under and through, but not when you want to?"

"No idea," I throw the birdarang to make sure he's not an elaborate hologram, and thankfully he bats it away with his cane. He's real.

"Not in the mood for riddles either?" he tsks condescendingly, "How about something a little more your speed? Catch me if you can."

Without another word, he disappears through the door. Dammit.

I activate my comm.

"Found the Riddler. Second floor, I'm in pursuit. I'm not exactly impressed so far."

"Be careful! Don't underestimate him."