Chapter Text
The Justice League returned from their battle against H.I.V.E’s latest Mech suit. It had been a difficult and arduous fight but they had won it with precious few injuries. That was except Booster who seemed to be favoring his right leg and was walking around trying to play it off like it was nothing.
“Booster Sit down. I’m gonna go get Superman to look at that leg.” Canary said. “You took a pretty nasty hit.”
Booster waved a dismissive hand, “Nonsense, Canary! It’s just… a little nick! My fantastic suit absorbed the worst of it. The ‘Gold Standard of Heroics’ is perfectly fine, thank you very much! Gotta look good for the cameras, you know?” He punctuated the line with a forced, dramatic step that clearly made him wince, a detail which did not go unnoticed by his teammates.
Guy Gardner snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, a ‘nick’ that’s got you walking like you’ve got a corncob stuck up your ass, Stop peacocking and listen to the woman. Unless you want me to take that fancy little leg of yours and prop it up myself.” Guy’s tone was its usual blend of annoyance and grudging concern.
Ice floated closer, her expression gentle and worried. “Booster, please. A hero needs to recover to be at their best.”
“Oh, for the love of—fine!” Booster threw his hands up in mock surrender, the picture of aggrieved heroism, before letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he eased himself onto a nearby couch. “But for the record, you guys worry too much!”
Fire flipped her vibrant green hair over her shoulder. “Booster, darling, that robot almost turned you into a gold-plated pancake. Now, keep that leg still before you make it worse. We all saw the way you stumbled back there.”
Guy just kept his arms crossed and stared him down with a look that could curdle milk. “You try to jet out of here before Superman gives you the all-clear, and I'll personally duct-tape you to that couch. Got it pretty boy?”
“Yeah, yeah, stay still and wait for supes.”Booster huffed, crossing his arms with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “I’m a man of action! My brand demands movement! I should be out signing autographs, not being a… a couch potato! Look see my leg is–” He tried to wiggle his foot, but a sharp twinge made him suck air through his teeth.
Guy, who had been leaning against a wall, glared and pushed himself off. “Oh for the love of– Quit moving the leg!"
Black Canary walked back into the room flanked by the Man of Steel.
“Booster,” Superman’s voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the bickering. “Let’s take a look at that leg. Canary says you took a hard hit.”
Booster Gold puffed out his chest, despite being seated. “Supes, my man! Always a pleasure! It’s really nothing, just a… minor scrape! The suit is perfectly functional, and so am I! See?” He tried to tap his foot on the floor again, and the resulting sharp intake of breath was even more audible this time.
Superman knelt beside the couch, his bright blue eyes focusing on the gold boot. A faint red glow emanated from his eyes, a focused beam of his X-ray vision. Booster was right. The suit had dampened most of the hit no broken bones only a seriously swollen ankle. But then, the Man of Steel’s gentle expression completely vanished. His brow furrowed, and the x-ray focus lingered for a beat too long.
“Clark? What is it?” Canary asked, stepping forward immediately
“Nothing… well his leg is fine, but… I have to go talk to Bruce… Don’t. let him. Move!”
Guy Gardner's jaw dropped. The sight of Superman, Superman, looking genuinely rattled and then bolting like that was... unsettling.
“What the blazing blue hell was that all about?” Guy demanded.
Booster looked a bit panicked “Wait, wait, Bruce? As in Batman? What does he have to do with a sprained ankle?!” He tried to stand up.
Black Canary immediately put a firm, gentle hand on his shoulder. “Booster. He said don’t move.” Her tone was low and serious, not the usual commanding shout, which only made the situation feel heavier. “It’s clearly something serious.”
Superman’s flight path was a blur, even for him. He didn't bother knocking on Bruces office door, just threw it open.
"Bruce!" Clark’s voice, normally a deep river of calm, was tight with urgency.
Bruce didn’t even look up. “What is it, Clark? If guy got in another fight with an ally I’m sending him to Belle Reve.”
“It’s Booster Gold. I just—I X-rayed his ankle, and it’s fine, just swollen. But, Bruce… his epiphyseal plates—they’re not fused.”
Batman finally straightened up, his eyes narrowing from the glow of his screens. “Explain, Clark.”
“he’s still growing. It was a shock because he is 6’5, and he told us all he was 23 when he first showed up 3 months ago… but bones don't lie. He’s a kid, Bruce. A teenager, A young teen. 15 at most, but probably closer to 14.”
“A child,” Batman said "A child has been active on the Justice League Roster for three months, fighting world-class threats without any of us knowing his age…" He brought a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “6'5…. Of course we believed he was an adult… he probably knew he could get away with it at that height. Where is he?”
The two moved with a shared, urgent silence, a blur of blue and grey as they retraced Superman’s path. When they burst back into the room, the scene was exactly as Clark had left it.
Booster Gold was still slumped on the couch, arms crossed like a petulant teen, which is what he was as it turned out. “Supes! Batman!” Booster’s voice was too loud, too cheerful, a frantic attempt to cover his panic. “Great to see you, Bruce! Did Clark tell you about my totally minor, very non-serious leg thing? It’s practically healed, look!” He tried to lift his foot an inch, but the twinge of pain was still sharp enough to make him hiss.
Guy Gardner didn’t even look at the Dark Knight. He just glared at Booster. “Don’t you dare move, pretty boy. I’m starting to think you’re a deep cover spy, you’ve got Superman and Batman running around like chickens with their heads cut off. What the blazin’ blue hell did Clark see?”
Batman ignored Guy, his focus laser-sharp on the figure on the couch. He walked directly up to Booster, his cape billowing out like a shadow. He didn’t raise his voice, but the sudden, intense scrutiny of the Dark Knight was a force all its own.
“Booster. Tell me again. How old are you?” Batman asked
“Oh, you know, 23. The perfect age for a world-class, corporate-sponsored superhero! Old enough to, uh… to drive, definitely! And, um… legally allowed to sign all my own merchandising contracts! Yeah! Super grown-up stuff! Why do you ask?”
“Twenty-three,” Batman repeated. “The perfect age. Let me tell you what else is perfect, Booster. Perfect knowledge. Perfect information. And Clark’s X-ray vision is perfect at telling the difference between a fully-grown man and a really tall teenager whose epiphyseal plates haven’t even fused yet.”
“Epiphe-what now?” Booster squeaked going from a picture of aggrieved heroics to pure, wide-eyed panic in a fraction of a second. His perpetual grin was wiped clean off his face.
Guy threw his hands up in utter disbelief. "A teenager! Seriously? You've gotta be pulling my leg, Bats! Look at him! He's a walking skyscraper!"
“Uh… uh-oh?” Booster squeaked out, looking desperately at the ceiling. “Time for a sudden, very important autograph signing in the… the Philippines? Gotta go!” He tried to scramble off the couch, but before his gold-plated boot could even touch the floor, a dark grey glove clamped down on his shoulder. Batman’s grip was surprisingly gentle but entirely non-negotiable. “Stay,” he ordered.
Booster Gold deflated, the golden sheen of his suit suddenly looking dull under the intense scrutiny. “Come on, Bats! It’s not that big a deal! Okay, maybe I fudged the numbers a tiny bit on the application—like, you know, rounding up a couple of years? But I’m a hero! I fight the good fight! And I’ve been doing great! Did you see how I handled that H.I.V.E. mech? Gold-standard awesome, right?” He forced another strained grin, but it looked brittle, like his confidence was about to shatter.
Guy Gardner stepped forward, his face a mask of utter fury mixed with betrayal. “Rounding up?! A couple of years?! Try a decade! You little lying dirtbag! You could’ve been killed! You are a kid! A giant, flashy, pea-brained child!” He punctuated the last word with a jabbed finger in the air. “I have half a mind to put you across my knee and give you the spanking you deserve for nearly getting yourself Killed!”
Boosters Face flushed red he tried to force a laugh “Spanking?! Ha! That–That’s rediculous… I’m 6’5! I wouldn’t even fit over–” Booster trailed off cringing at the mental image of being bent over Guy’s Knee.
“That is enough, Gardner,” Batman said, his voice a flat, non-negotiable command that immediately shut down the Green Lantern's rage. “He won't be disciplined here. Punishment is a job for his parents.”
Guy visibly swallowed, the fury draining from his face and replaced by grudging shame. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall, muttering something under his breath about "damn kids."
“Ha! Well jokes on you Batman! I don’t Have Parents. My dad abandoned us when I was a toddler and my Mom died of a disease that doesn’t even exist in this century so… Checkmate Batsy! I’m a Free Agent!” Booster flashed a smug smile as if he had just pulled out a trump card.
Batman just stared. His silence wasn't the kind of charged, waiting silence he used to intimidate villains; it was a cold, hard, logistical pause.
“You are coming home with me then.” Batman said. “Your suit, the ring, and Skeets are being temporarily confiscated. I will arrange a safe place for them. You will stay under my supervision.”
Booster’s smugness instantly dissolved. “Confiscated? Bats, you can’t be serious! This is my brand! My future! My… my whole deal! What about Skeets? He’s an autonomous—well, mostly autonomous—flying security consultant! He's like… my little guy!”
“Your brand Will still be there when you earn the right to act as an independent hero. Until then if you want to fight crime you are going to be my Newest Robin.”
Booster Gold stared at Batman, his jaw actually dropping, the sudden shock eclipsing even the pain in his ankle.
“R-Robin?” Booster stammered “Robin? Bats, listen to yourself! I’m 6’5! I can’t be a Robin! That’s a sidekick! That's a huge step down for the brand!”
Guy Gardner burst out laughing, a loud, grating sound that echoed off the Watchtower walls. “Oh, that’s rich! A six-foot-five, gold-plated Robin! You earned that, pretty boy! Now shut up and take your punishment, which is clearly being dressed up like a giant song bird and forced to follow the Bat around.”
Superman’s expression remained gentle but firm. “Booster, Bruce is doing what’s necessary. You are a child who has been putting himself in extreme danger for three months. Until you’re an adult, you need supervision. You will be safe with Bruce.”
“Now,” Batman said “we’re going home. And we’re going to discuss your actual identity and your new curriculum.” Batman’s grip was absolute, and he lifted the tall, stunned teenager off the couch with the same ease he would a duffel bag, ignoring the yelp of pain from the ankle.
“Curriculum?” Booster whimpered as Batman effortlessly strode toward the exit, carrying him like an oversize trophy. “No! Wait wait Batsy! What about your brand? Do you really want to see the look on the Jokers face when you show up with a robin that is 3 inches taller then you?!”
“Robin is not allowed to go anywhere near Joker. So I don't think that will be a problem.”
“Wha?-- aww come on… I don’t even get to fight the Joker?!”
“Too Dangerous.”
Booster's face crumpled into the most tragic, over-the-top pout a six-foot-five Teenager could muster. “Too dangerous? Batsy, my brand is all about danger! It’s high stakes, high reward. Besides hes Just a dumb clown.. He doesn't even have powers!”
“The Joker isn’t a clown, he’s a disease, Booster,” Batman’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble that cut right through the high-stakes, high-reward sales pitch. “And he deals in body bags. We are not discussing this again. Focus on where we are going and prepare to answer some very important questions about your actual identity, your history, and what exactly you plan to tell the media when you are introduced as… my new ward.”
Booster Gold’s over-the-top pout somehow managed to become even more tragic. He slumps completely in Batman's arms, throwing his head back dramatically as he is hauled towards the Batwing. “Ward?! this is the worst brand pivot ever! I'm supposed to be a time-traveling corporate rock star, not... not a sad little orphan sidekick with a curfew!”
“Well…” Canary said as she watched them disappear. “Looks like Wayne Manor is about to get more… Dramatic.”