Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

June 21st, 2028

Bruce glowered at the keyboard in front of him. 

He looked at the table it rested upon, fingering the gun in his hand. The gun he had grabbed from a thug on his last night out, fully intent on using it to defend himself. 

He felt sick just thinking about it. After all, what had that training been for, if not for him to be able to defend himself without one? Without tarnishing the memory of his parents, and pandering to the criminal activity that had killed them?

In that moment of weakness, he had almost used it. He had almost taken a man’s life with it because he was too weak to do anything else. 

He slammed the gun on the table. 

He didn’t want to admit that this was it. That he would never go out as Batman again.

But then, he felt pain rise in his chest, as it had for the past few weeks. 

He doubled over, panting. 

“My pills,” he rasped to Cassandra, the only one of his kids who knew about this whole thing, the only one who visited more than once every few years. “Get my pills.”

Cassandra, ever faithful Cassandra, ran upstairs to get them. 

He kept coughing, feeling his heart as it seemed to explode with every beat against his ribcage. 

Now wasn’t the time for another heart attack. 

He had been rushed to the Emergency Room the first time it had happened. Given those damn pills by some doctor who claimed to be an expert. But he didn’t trust him. 

“Your heart is failing due to too much strenuous activity in your youth, Bruce,” Stephanie had said in his hospital room, smiling softly. She had become a nurse after she had given up on heroics, taking over Leslie’s clinic after the woman’s death. 

Bruce trusted her with his life. And, after insisting that no other medical professional was to see him, she had come over from her job at the clinic, just to give him this news. 

“It isn’t safe for you to go out anymore, Bruce,” she continued, “You might collapse.”

He had told her that that wasn’t going to stop him. He was only in his early fifties, after all. Too young for this to be a real problem. 

So he had made a suit that was nearly indestructible. It had stealth mode, so he could gather evidence without being caught, and servos to enhance his dwindling strength, since working out wasn’t really an option anymore, if he was going to go with what the doctor had told him. It was even able to actually fly, due to one of WayneTech’s brightest scientists. He would know, since he had recruited the man himself.

And there he was. He had collapsed, and, in desperation, grabbed a gun. He really was going to shoot the thug in front of him. He really was. 

All of the training he had done, and he still relied on a gun in his weakest moment.

Cassandra arrived behind him, pills at the ready. 

He downed them in one gulp, and then sagged back into his chair. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Cass,” he said. “Even with the enhanced suit.”

Cass nodded solemnly. 

She looked over at the Batsuits, contemplating both the one he had used, back before everything, and the one he had used that night, when everything had gone asunder. 

Bruce knew what she was thinking, and knew that she wouldn’t rely on the new suit, preferring to use her wits instead of technology. But he also knew that she didn’t need it.

None of his other kids would even touch the mantle of Batman. But Cass would take it. And she would do a better job than he did, he knew. 

Bruce smiled at her.

“You’ll do good, Cass.”

And she would. She was one of the most skilled of all of his children. But, he knew that if Damian was there…

The mantle was supposed to be his. Even if Bruce suspected that he would have been more than happy to give it up for another. He was thinking of the name Redbird, when he had disappeared. 

It was Bruce’s fault, he knew. He had searched everywhere. Every base the League of Assassins had to offer. He had interrogated Talia. Even yelled at Ra’s al Ghul himself in his grief. 

They had told him he was dead. Triumphantly, as if he was a disappointment. 

It made Bruce angry just thinking about their cold words. 

But there was something they were hiding from him. He knew that even if Ra’s and Talia didn’t approve of his path, they would at least have approved of his skill. 

Bruce had never found a reason to be disappointed in him. Exasperated, sure, but he had been proud of the young man his son had become when it had happened, and he had gone missing.

Damian Wayne had been missing for 5 years. Ever since his 16th birthday. 

Bruce knew in his heart that he wasn’t dead. He knew better than to take everything Talia and Ra’s said at face value. But wherever Damian was, it was too far away for him to reach, no matter how hard he tried. He had scoured the Earth, finding no sign of his son anywhere. 

But he wasn’t paying as much attention to Gotham as he had when he had left. And his rogues had struck. It had taken months to get the city back in shape. Months, even with the help of his children and various protegees. 

Gotham City needed a protector. Even if he was out of commission, it needed someone there to keep the darkness at bay. Keep the city from eating itself. He had tried to help, getting his best scientists to make the city gleam, to create new technology that made the city rise out of its old darkness, and become anew. And now, he could never protect it again. Not as Batman. He could still get his company to develop the latest technologies, to keep Gotham away from the brink, but he didn’t know how hard it would be with Tim shoved out of the company by the overwhelming influence of Derek Powers. 

There was only so much influence he could exert, now that Powers had an iron grip on WayneTech. 

And he didn’t trust Powers with a thing. 

He stood shakily, gripping the table in a white knuckled grip.

Never again, he thought, as he left the room he had called his home for the longest time he ever had. 

Never again.

Chapter Text

April 29th, 2048

“Left!”

Terry ducked away from the incoming burst of inky slime, jumping away just as its trajectory turned towards him.

"Well," he said jovially, jumping from place to place as the slime followed, "The fact that I'm evading moving goo isn't weird at all. Nope."

“McGinnis, focus!” Wayne called from the headset.

Terry rolled his eyes. 

“Geez, boss,” he shot back, “You don’t have to say it twice.”

He spread the suit’s wings and shot up into the rafters of the warehouse, smiling of the feeling of antigravity. Hey, the suit might have been 20 years old, but it was still pretty damn cutting edge, compared to the rest of the 2020s. 

God, they were so outdated.

The slime decided to try to follow him, piling up onto itself until it got almost tall enough to reach the rafters, but it wasn’t enough to reach him.

He saw Wayne’s stern face watch him via the holo in his headset, frowning, as if he did something wrong. As per usual. He’d been working for the guy for a month and he swore to everything above, nothing pleased him. Absolutely nothing. 

Terry didn’t care. There was nothing that compared to the joy of getting to fly around and kick ass. Even if his boss was a hardass. 

The slime started to climb up the walls, intent on reaching the rafters and sending him to his untimely demise. 

“McGinnis -” Wayne called out, ready to give him another order. 

“Got it!” Terry interrupted, using a specific flick of his wrist to call forth an explosive batarang from within the suit’s arm, and shooting it at the slime. 

The batarang exploded, and the slime hissed, almost like it was a person, before falling in chunks to the floor. 

The slime regrouped into a humanoid shape. 

“You little brat,” it said, “I’ll get you!”

It, or, judging by the curves, she, jumped at him, shooting tendrils of slime towards him.

Terry sent another explosive batarang at it, and flew to the door of the warehouse before the slime could get him. 

The slime exploded again. 

“See, old man,” Terry said into his comm, “I can do things!”

Wayne just smiled, which, frankly, was even scarier than him frowning. It meant that something was definitely going wrong. At least, from what he could tell. 

“Try again, McGinnis. Those explosions aren’t doing anything.”

But, they were. They were making the slime lady angry. Unbalanced. Unable to think straight. 

Terry smirked. He knew exactly what was going to happen. After all, just because he was a thug didn’t mean he was stupid. Otherwise, how else would he have been able to sneak around while the old Batman was on the prowl? The terror of the night, people had called whoever was in that suit. They were no talk, all scare tactics and precise blows. Hell, they might have been pretty small, from what glimpses Terry got of them and the stories he’d been told, but they kicked serious ass. 

But then, they had disappeared. And crime rates had risen again. 

And now, Terry was it. Gotham’s last hope.

The slime rushed across the floor, coming towards him at a rapid rate. 

Terry got ready to cock his wrist again, but a light in his visor flashed. 

Only one explosive batarang left. 

Well, he’d just have to come up with another option then. But, what other options were there? The slime was almost invincible, from what he could tell. 

He decided to ask the expert. 

“Wayne,” he called, “What do I do?”

“No names in the field,” Wayne said, “Remember my codename.”

“Yes, Oracle,” Terry said, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous codename. At least the name Batman was sort of scary, in his opinion. “What do I do?”

Wayne frowned at him, but didn’t respond immediately. 

Terry kicked off from the ground again, but the slime knew better, grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him back down. 

“Boss?” Terry called, as the slime crawled him, trapping him in its cocoon, “Hello?”

The slime reached his headset. 

“You…” he heard, the headset fizzling in and out as the slime wracked through the suit’s systems, “Get me a samp...McGinnis? McGinnis?”

The slime was blocking his mouth.

He tried to talk, struggling against the substance covering his mouth, but the more he struggled, the more it slowly but surely started to cover his nose. 

“Little brat,” the slime said, “Serves you right for getting in my way.”

The slime covered his eyes.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. 

And, after a while, he blacked out.

“Reckless!” Wayne yelled, motioning with his cane, “That’s what you are. Reckless and stupid!”

He turned away from Terry and mumbled what must have been a few choice words.

Terry just stared at the floor, for what seemed like the millionth time that month. How many times had the old man scolded him for doing something he deemed wrong while on the job? It had seemed like a million. But, how was he supposed to know what to do? Wayne hadn’t put him out there with any extra advice besides “You have a camouflage mode and your wrists can shoot ninja stars.”

Wayne turned back, and fixed him with a hard stare. 

“McGinnis,” he said, “What do you do when you’re on the job and your airways get blocked?”

“Uh…” Terry said, “Push the guy strangling you away?”

Bruce sighed.

“You’re suspended until you get more training.”

“What? But -”

Wayne’s steely eyes met his.

“I thought that since you knew how to fight, you’d be okay. But you’re still new. Still untested.”

“Untested?” Terry bit back, angrily,  “Do you know how many times I’ve beaten up the Jokerz on the way to school?”

Wayne sighed. 

“McGinnis, you might be 17, but I’ve trained 8 year olds to fight better than you do.”

Terry looked at the suits stored in the case across the room. The suits of the people that Batman had deemed worthy enough to be at his side. His sidekicks, his protegees, his kids. 

Well, Terry was Batman now and all he had was a crotchety old man in his ear. And permanent imposter syndrome. 

Why wasn’t one of Wayne’s kids doing the job? Don’t get him wrong, he loved being Batman, but there must have been someone around somewhere that would piss off Wayne less than he did. He had like 5 kids. Well, 3, since 2 were dead or missing, but they were old enough to don the suit. What happened to them?

Wayne’s cane tapped his shin. 

“Either you do more training,” Wayne said, “Or you lose the suit permanently.”

Terry glared at the man in front of him. 

“Permanently?”

“An ability to learn and adapt on the job is important. If you can’t do it, you lose the suit.”

“You’re saying I can’t adapt on the job? I adapted on the job just fine against Powers and his goons!”

Wayne sighed. 

“What I say stands. You’re not fit for the job right now, McGinnis.”

Terry scoffed, and stood up.

“Fine!” he said, “I’m getting out of here, since you want me here so much.”

He grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the cave. 

“Have fun getting your heart medicine all by yourself!” he called down. 

It was a low blow, but he was pissed. After all, why had Wayne put him out in the suit with barely any extra training if he had needed it? The old man didn’t strike him as that stupid.

He sighed, and slipped his motorcycle helmet on, settling on its seat. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and his watch lit up, projecting its message into the night.

Wayne: I expect you here tomorrow at 4:30pm sharp. 

He turned his watch off, revved up, and sped out of the Manor’s driveway as fast as he could. 

Terry swallowed some of the school cafeteria’s dry, crummy pizza and took a bite of the overly sugary, probably half rotten canned fruit next to it, sighing. What was he gonna do now that Wayne didn’t think he was fit for the job? Be on standby for the old man’s pills? Take the dog out on walks?

Well, that was if he didn’t get fired, and replaced with the first competent guy Wayne saw. Which was pretty likely.

Dana looked up from her food with concerned eyes.

“What’s with you today, babe?”

Terry shook himself, and turned to look at her.

“Nothing,” he responded,”Just… I think I’m gonna get canned from the job I just got.”

“The job with Bruce Wayne?”

He nodded. 

Dana put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Maybe that’s for the best. You’ve been really out of it since you started with him.”

Terry shrugged, and took another bite of cardboard pizza. Man, did he miss his dad packing lunches for him.

“I think it’s been pretty schway, actually.”

Dana raised an eyebrow. 

“What,” she said, “Giving a cranky old guy his meds?”

“Nah,” Terry responded, “Dealing with his cranky attitude.”

Dana gave him a flat look. 

“You’ve literally texted me every day about how horrible he is.”

“He is horrible!” Terry said, gesticulating, “But he gives good money. And now, Mom has twice as many kids and no child support, so I can’t just quit, you know.”

Dana sighed. 

“Well, if you get fired, at least you have an excuse not to deal with him anymore, right? And besides, you can always try to get another job after. ”

“Yeah…” he said, “Like anyone will hire me with this record.”

“Bruce Wayne did, right? You’ll be fine. He might even write you a recommendation.”

Terry scoffed.

“Yeah, right. No way he will.”

Dana smiled.

“You never know, Ter.”

She kissed him on the cheek, and stood up, grabbing her tablet and computer bag. 

“Gotta go, babe. My next class is across campus, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Terry said, “See you after school? I don’t have work until 4:30.”

Dana smirked.

“You better make it worth my while, McGinnis, with all the dates you missed working.”

Terry smiled back, and gave her a peck on the lips. 

“See you around, Dana.”

She waved, and headed off.

Terry sighed, and wolfed down the rest of the food on his tray. 

He was going to need as much energy as he could get for later.

Wayne was there when he stepped into the Manor’s dusty old living room, standing at bay by the armchair. 

Ace barked at Terry from underneath the table, snarling. It had been a month, and the dog still wasn’t used to him. 

Terry gave Wayne a flat look. 

“So, what’s it today, boss?”

Wayne gestured to a neatly wrapped gift basket that sat on the table. 

“Get that, and follow me.”

“Huh?”

Wayne started to walk away, bracing himself on his cane. 

Terry stood there, confused. Who the hell would Old Man Wayne want to give a gift basket to? It didn’t seem like he had many friends, with that attitude. 

“Get the basket, McGinnis,” Wayne called back, “No time to waste.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shot back, grabbing the basket. “Where to?”

“The driveway,” Wayne replied, smiling ominously, “We’re visiting someone.”

They pulled up in front of a modest, yet crumbling brownstone somewhat nearby, in a neighborhood that somehow had escaped Gotham's mass gentrification back in the 2030s. 

“Are you sure this is where you want to go, Mister Wayne?” the driver asked, pulling down the partition.

“Yes,” Wayne replied. “Wait for us to get back.”

The driver nodded, and got out of the car. 

Terry followed suit, and opened the door for Wayne, holding a hand out for him. 

Wayne swatted his hand away, and got out with a grunt. 

“Get the basket,” he ordered Terry, and Terry leaned in, grabbing the basket and waiting for Wayne to do something. This was his pal they were visiting, after all. 

Wayne hobbled up to the door, and knocked three times. 

Terry stood behind him, a silent shadow. 

The door opened, revealing an asian woman around the same as his mom, maybe a bit older, with one glaring difference: she had a walker supporting her weight. 

“Hey, dad,” she said, with a soft, melodious voice. 

Dad? Terry thought. Didn’t Wayne have only sons?

No wait, Terry recalled, he had one daughter. He didn’t remember her name or what she looked like though.

Wayne smiled at her. An actual, genuine smile. Not an “You’re about to fail and I will laugh at you” smile. 

“Hello, Cassandra,” he replied, holding the door back with his free hand. “Can we come in?”

Cassandra nodded, and shuffled back. 

Wayne went in, gesturing for Terry to follow. 

And follow Terry did.

Chapter Text

The house was, honestly, pretty cozy. 

Terry stepped in, holding the basket tight to his chest, making sure to canvass every area of the room. There wasn’t much in it besides a table, a few chairs, a rug, and a fireplace, but he still wanted to be careful. This was one of Wayne’s kids, after all, and while she might have been on their side, she was probably still dangerous. 

He thought that Wayne would be proud of him trying to be careful. Even if he forgot sometimes, in the rush and thrill of wearing the Batsuit. 

Cassandra pointed to the table. 

“You can put the basket there,” she said, gesturing towards him. 

Terry nodded, and hurried to put the basket down. 

She ambled over to the armchair nearest the table and sat down, leaving the loveseat opposite it open. 

Wayne grunted, and made his way across the room. 

Terry, not knowing what to do, followed awkwardly. This was Wayne’s visit to his daughter, after all, and although he was invited, he felt like an intruder. 

Wayne sat down on the loveseat, leaning his cane on his legs, and Terry followed, leaning back into the cushion behind him, trying to look more confident than he felt. This was no place for awkwardness, especially since he was in front of one of Wayne’s kids. This lady could be wanting to take the cowl from him, for all he knew. Even if she seemed like she could barely walk. 

He had to at least try to make a good impression. Wayne definitely seemed like an overprotective dad, despite the vigilantism, and was probably at least somewhat reliant on his kid’s judgements of other people. If Cassandra decided he was a threat or a nuisance, then he was out of a job. It was as simple as that. 

Wayne cleared his throat. 

“Cass,” he said, “This is my new assistant, Terry McGinnis. McGinnis, this is Cassandra Cain-Wayne, my daughter.”

Terry nodded at her, meeting her eyes. 

Cassandra nodded back with a gentle but firm stare, as if she was analyzing him, and smiled at him. 

“Nice to meet you, Terry,” she said, in her soft but musical voice.

“You too,” Terry replied, not sure of what else to say. 

Wayne gave him a scathing look, as if Terry’s reply didn’t live up to his standards, but moved on with the conversation. 

“As you probably could tell, he also happens to assist me at night.”

Cass looked back at him, an analytical look on her face. 

“You are the new Batman?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Terry said, "What about it?"

"Nothing," Cass said, looking him over.

Terry tried not to squirm awkwardly.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes meeting his.

“You are strong," she concluded, "Young, fit. Well versed in the art of fighting. But, you need training.”

Terry gave Wayne an exasperated glance. 

“Oh, come on Wayne! Her too?”

Wayne glared at him. 

“She’s right, McGinnis. If you go out there without more training, you’ll get yourself killed.”

Terry rolled his eyes. But, he wasn’t stupid. He knew that any training he could get would help him out in the field. Even if it took him hours of lying awake in his bed, thinking about all of the close calls he had gotten into since he got the suit. Or thinking about his Mom’s face when she loses not just her ex-husband, but her eldest son, too. Just because he had been careless, or defiant, or just plain stupid. 

He never wanted to see his mom like that.

But, to say the truth, he just thought it was funny to see Wayne get all riled up about him “refusing.”  Especially since Wayne was such an asshole about getting him training in the first place. 

Cassandra smiled at him softly, almost as if she knew what he was thinking. 

“He reminds me of Jason,” she said to Wayne, “Headstrong, confident, brash.”

“Jason was trained, and he was killed anyway,” Wayne replied, “McGinnis is not. Even so, I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

Terry looked between them, confused. Everyone knew about Jason Todd-Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s street rat of a son, who had gotten killed when he was only a year or two younger than Terry. But Terry had thought that Jason had gotten caught in a bombing, not killed while on the job. 

That must explain the memorial with the Robin suit in the corner. Well, either him or Damian Wayne, who had disappeared without a trace. 

He knew better than to ask, though. 

“I will help train him, if you need,” Cass said. 

Wayne smiled again, which, even though Terry knew it was genuine, still creeped him out. 

“That would be great, Cassandra. Thank you.”

Terry looked at her, skeptically. How was she supposed to train him when she could barely walk? 

“I don’t need my legs to fight,” she said, as if she had sensed his question. 

Wayne gave him another stern look. 

“She can still fight, McGinnis. Even if her accident a couple years ago made it so that she couldn’t go out on the streets anymore.”

“Oh,” Terry replied, not knowing what to say. 

Wait, he thought, she had been out on the streets recently? He had thought that all of Wayne’s partners had retired years ago or moved to other cities, except for…

Terry stared at her, wide eyed. 

“Wait, hold up. Hold up. You were Batman before me?”

Cass nodded, smiling. 

“Holy shit,” Terry said, “Holy fucking shit.”

This lady had been the person who had scared him and his old so-called friends so much that they had been extra careful to make sure she was on the other side of town before jilting anyone? 

Damn. God and damn.

It was weird. She was so… nice? Small? Terry didn’t know, but she didn’t seem like the type to go around scaring thugs so badly they ran back to their mommies. 

But he knew that appearances could be deceiving. After all, the world thought that Wayne was a crippled old man, marked by tragedy. Not the man who guided Terry out on the streets, who was so strict that it drove Terry crazy sometimes. Who gave him purpose after his father died, after everything that he had done before. 

Everyone thought Wayne was soft. Not just because he was old, but because he took great care to seem like he was stupid when he was younger. But Terry knew better. After all, when Wayne wasn’t socializing back then, he would have been out on Gotham’s streets, fighting the worst the city had to offer. 

And now, that burden had passed down to Terry. 

Wayne smiled at his daughter again, but this time, it was almost a smirk. As if he was amused by the fact that Terry had underestimated her. 

The old man turned back to Terry. 

“She’s much stronger than you think, McGinnis. In fact, Cass, why don’t you come back with us? Terry could use some tips.”

And, for once, Terry agreed. He could only aspire to strike fear into the hearts of criminals the way she did. 

God, that would be awesome. 

Cass smiled, and stood up, gripping the arms of her chair. 

Wayne and Terry soon followed, and Terry walked ahead, opening the door for both Wayne and Cassandra. 

They both got out of the door, and Terry helped them into the car. Or, at least, tried. Cassandra didn’t seem like she needed too much help, and Wayne refused his help point blank, as per usual. 

After getting the walker into the car, Terry finally sat down. 

“Shall we?” Wayne said, as the car started to move. 

Terry smirked. 

“Sure thing,” he replied. 

INSTABOOK

T E R R Y

@terrymcawesomeness

Silver Tier Membership, $3.99 a month for DM and Private Mode

2 new DMs from: Dana Tan @dana.tan2029

Dana Tan: hey babe

What’s up?

T E R R Y: The ceiling

Dana Tan: not awesome :(

How’s work?

T E R R Y: pretty cool

met one of Wayne’s kids

Dana Tan: aren’t half of them dead or something?

T E R R Y: yup

also I just got compared to one of Wayne’s dead sons

Dana Tan: RIP

That’s not too poggers, as my mom would say

T E R R Y: Your mom would never have said that

Even back in the 2020s

Dana Tan: You never know ;)

I was looking through her old social media posts 

It was… interesting

T E R R Y: remind me never to do that.

My mom was apparently pretty wild in her youth

I ever tell you about that tat she got?

Dana Tan: wait what

T E R R Y: yeah it was

Weird

Don’t want to think about it

Dana Tan: You ever look through your dad’s old Insta? 

That might be cool

T E R R Y: He didn’t have one

Did have a twitter though

Posted lots of dank memes back in the 2020s

Dana Tan: ooh that sounds cool

2020 memes make me question humanity

T E R R Y: 

He was pretty funny, back in the day

Seriously though

I wonder what people in the 2020s were smoking

Dana Tan: Not as much as we did

Didn’t weed not get legalized federally until like... 2024?

T E R R Y: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Dana Tan: whoops

Forgot you’re a dumbass and wouldn’t know

T E R R Y: hey

I’m a loveable dumbass

Dana Tan: duh

Love you, dummy

Get back to work

T E R R Y: hey I’m just sitting in a car rn

Its taking foreeeeeever

Should I just tell wayne to get a self driving car next time?

Chauffeurs suck

Dana Tan: He still uses manual drive?

Big oof

T E R R Y: yeah its weird

I mean, i drive my cycle, but finding people who actually drive cars is like finding dinosaurs

They are dinosaurs

“McGinnis.”

Terry looked up. 

Wayne stared down at him, glaring. 

“We’re here.”

Terry nodded, shooting off a quick “gtg” text to Dana. 

His phone vibrated again.  

Dana Tan: see ya

Love you <3

Terry smiled at the text, and opened the car door, letting Wayne and Cassandra out.

T E R R Y: <3

Love you too

“Instagram?” A soft voice said from behind him as he closed the app. 

Terry turned his phone off, tucking it into his pocket. 

“Well,” he replied, “It’s Instabook. Instagram and Facebook combined like… 10 years ago?”

“Oh,” Cass said, “I keep forgetting.”

She looked up at the grey sky, a wistful expression on her face.

“We always wanted to have Instagram or a TikTok for while in costume,” Cass said, smiling at the old memories, “But Bruce wouldn’t allow it. Too easy for enemies to track our location, he’d say.”

Terry frowned. 

“That sucks.”

Cass shook her head, and then smirked.

“But we did do something, behind his back.”

Terry sent her a questioning glance. 

“Snapchat,” she clarified.

“The old app that went extinct back in 2030?”

Cass nodded. 

“I’ll show you the highlights later. After your training.”

“Really?” Terry asked. 

Cass nodded again. 

“Of course.”

Terry smiled. He might have not been alive to see Wayne’s protegees work in person, but damn if he wouldn’t take the chance to see them in action. 

“Thanks, Cass.”

Cass nodded, smiling. 

“Thank me later. First, we train.”

Terry rolled his eyes, and strode towards the front door, making sure to open it before Wayne or Cassandra could reach it. 

He had a feeling that this training was going to be hell.