Chapter Text
While Artie remains the primary tactical and security specialist as well as the anchor of the house, Damian, at the ripe age of eleven, has fully stepped into his birthright as a field commander. He now leads the majority of their high-stakes deployments with other teams in the Justice League.
He commands with a razor-sharp, battlefield omniscience that has earned the absolute trust of seasoned veterans. When the House of IaX deploys, the JL knows the objective will be secured with ruthless efficiency.
Under Damian's leadership, the House of IaX does not operate in a vacuum. They regularly command a formidable, rotating contingent of the world's finest heroes, each filling a vital tactical niche:
- Nightwing & Red Hood: The inclusion of Dick and Jason brings a complex, powerful dynamic to the field. Dick provides fluid, acrobatic distraction and high morale, while Jason serves as the heavy-hitting rearguard. Together with Damian, their unspoken shorthand makes them a terrifyingly synchronized frontline.
- Green Arrow & Black Canary: Oliver and Dinah bring veteran grit and crowd control. Oliver’s trick arrows control the geometry of the battlefield from afar, while Dinah’s canary cry provides devastating sonic breaches.
- Captain Marvel: As always, Billy is the heavy artillery and the heart of the team. Whenever Damian’s plans require pure, unadulterated magical muscle to go toe-to-toe with meta-human threats, Billy is there. He bridges the gap between Damian's cold logic and the team's humanity.
Current Mission: JL1ε012
Artie sits at the monitors in the command center of their home, watching live tactical feeds from an abandoned LexCorp facility in northern Europe.
On the screen, Shadow Commander cuts through a blast door with his katana, flanking a squad of rogue threats. To his left, Nightwing and Red Hood move like shadows, clearing the corners. Overhead, a flash of magical lightning signals that Billy has just neutralized the heavy anti-aircraft guns.
Artie tracks his team's vitals, watching the digital readouts pulse steadily in the dark room. The live feed from Damian’s shoulder-cam flickers as the strike team descends deeper into the sub-levels of the LexCorp facility. The sleek, corporate architecture gives way to cold, industrial concrete.
As Billy rips a heavy titanium vault door off its hinges, the team steps into a massive, hidden laboratory. The dust of abandonment hangs thick in the air, illuminated only by the red emergency power strips running along the floor.
Damian holds up a hand, signaling the contingent to halt. Nightwing moves left, escrima sticks glowing faintly, while Red Hood keeps his pistols raised, covering the right flank. Black Canary steps up beside Damian, her eyes scanning the terminal screens.
"This isn't LexCorp tech," Dinah says, her voice low over the comms. "Look at the sequencing software. The encryptions. This is CADMUS."
Green Arrow steps up to a rusted terminal, wiping a layer of dust off a glass panel. "CADMUS? They were supposed to be shut down years ago. What were they doing all the way out here?"
"The illegal kind of science, obviously," Jason grunts, kicking a piece of shattered medical equipment out of his path. "The kind that requires a lot of space and zero oversight."
As the team advances into the heart of the lab, they find themselves walking through a corridor lined with rows of massive, cylindrical glass structures. They are disused pods and containment chambers, deep-frozen and shrouded in condensation.
Artie logs into the facility's mainframe from the home comms center, bypassing the firewalls to pull up the pod schematics on his own monitors.
"Shadow Commander, keep your distance from the central row," Artie warns over the earpieces, his fingers flying across his keyboard. "The power grid down there is unstable, but the internal bio-scans for those chambers are still registering historical data. These were designed for heavy-duty containment."
Damian steps closer to one of the central pods, scraping away the frost on the glass with his gloved hand. Inside, empty restraints hang loosely from the ceiling.
"Human and meta-human experimentation," Damian observes, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "The genetic markers logged in the terminal database indicate baseline human subjects injected with volatile meta-genes. They were trying to force artificial evolution."
"Are they all empty?" Billy asks, his usual cheerful demeanor completely gone as he looks at the grim machinery.
"Most of them," Damian replies, looking down the long row of dark cylinders. "But the power draw on the final three chambers is fluctuating. Someone left the lights on for a reason."
Nightwing and Green Arrow step away from the perimeter, moving side-by-side down the center aisle toward the final three flickering containment chambers. The air grows noticeably colder, thick with the chemical stench of decaying biological fluid and ozone.
Dick wipes the thick frost from the glass of the first active pod, shining his tactical light through the murky green suspension fluid. He instantly freezes, his breath catching in his throat.
"Oliver," Dick whispers, his voice shaking in a way the team has rarely heard. "Look at this." Green Arrow steps up to the second pod, his bow lowered as he stares into the glass. The color drains from his face.
The creatures floating inside the chambers are monstrous, asymmetric nightmares. CADMUS hadn't just been experimenting on baseline humans; they had harvested the biological wreckage of the League's last war. Floating in the stasis fluid are Parademons from the Apokolips encounter, but they have been violently altered.
"They spliced them," Oliver says, his voice laced with pure disgust. "They took Darkseid's shock troops and crossed them with meta-human DNA. Look at the bone density, the subdermal armor grafts... they were trying to breed the ultimate obedient super-soldiers."
The creatures are a grotesque fusion of insectoid Apokoliptian biology, rusted machinery fused directly into dead flesh, and mutated human anatomy. Elongated, twitching limbs press against the reinforced glass. Even in their comatose state, their jaws snap rhythmically, and their multiple eyes roll blindly beneath pale, translucent eyelids. It is a biological crime against nature.
Over the comms link back home, Artie watches the bio-readouts spike on his monitors as the pods begin to register the proximity of the strike team. The automated systems are sensing an intrusion, and the internal temperatures of the chambers are starting to rise. They are waking up.
"Shadow Commander," Dick says, turning away from the glass, his face grim. "These things aren't just bioweapons. They're a corruption of everything we fight to protect. If these pods finish the defrost cycle, we aren't just looking at a containment breach—we're looking at an outbreak."
Jason steps up behind them, the heavy click of his firearms echoing through the vault. "I don't need a tactical analysis to tell me what to do with monsters. We execute a hard burn. Right now."
Damian looks from the monitors to the twitching horrors behind the glass. For once, there is no hesitation, no calculation of asset preservation.
"Agreed," Damian commands, his voice cold and absolute. "The House of IaX does not allow these monstrosities to exist. These chambers are to be destroyed. Clear the blast radius."
Damian switches his comms to a secure, long-range frequency, routing the transmission directly past Earth's atmosphere. "IaX to Watchtower Command. Patching in a live visual feed. Report immediately to the main observation deck."
Up in orbit, the massive holographic screens of the Watchtower flicker to life. Martian Manhunter and Mr. Terrific step forward in the command center, their expressions turning grim as the live feed from the sub-levels of the CADMUS facility materializes before them.
J'onn J'onzz folds his arms behind his back, his brow furrowing as he stares at the grotesque, twitching fusion of Parademon and mutated meta-human tissue floating in the green stasis fluid. Even through a digital screen, the Martian's telepathic sensitivity registers a faint, echoing echo of agony radiating from the data stream.
"By the Ancients," J'onn says, his deep voice carrying a rare trace of profound unease. "The psychic residue of those specimens is... chaotic. It is a violent distortion of life."
Beside him, Michael Holt—Mr. Terrific—is already furiously tapping on his holographic interface, his T-Spheres scanning the raw telemetry data Damian is beaming up.
"I'm looking at the genetic sequencing now, Shadow Commander," Michael says, his tone tight with clinical disgust. "CADMUS didn't just stitch these things together. They used a highly advanced CRISPR-variant to bind the Apokoliptian physiology to human meta-genes. It’s an engineered mutation designed to survive extreme environments. If these things ever got out into a populated area, the contagion vector alone could rewrite baseline human DNA."
"They are waking up, Holt," Damian's voice cuts through the comms, cold and completely steady despite the horror in front of him. "The defrost cycle is at eighty percent. Nightwing and Green Arrow have already given the assessment. These abominations are a biological threat to the planet. I am ordering an immediate hard burn of the containment aisle."
Mr. Terrific looks at the diagnostic readouts one last time, verifying the instability of the facility's power grid. "He's right, J'onn. The neural pathways of those creatures are completely hardwired for aggression. There is no sentience left to save. If we try to transport them, we risk an atmospheric breach."
Martian Manhunter nods slowly, his dark eyes fixed on the screen. "Permission granted, Commander. Eradicate the threat. Ensure no biological traces remain, and secure the central hard drives before you initiate the payload. The League needs to know exactly who authorized this synthesis."
"Acknowledged," Damian replies. He turns back to his strike team, his katana catching the red light of the dying facility. "You heard the Watchtower. Captain Marvel, Canary—vaporize the chambers. Red Hood, get to the terminal and pull the drive. We have three minutes before this entire sub-level goes dark."
The sleek frame of the Batwing cuts silently through the upper atmosphere, banking sharply as it locks onto the docking tractor beams of the Justice League Watchtower. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere is a stark contrast of energies.
Nightwing deftly commands the controls from the pilot's seat, guiding the vessel smoothly through orbit while the rest of the contingent remains in high spirits, their voices carrying the relaxed, post-mission banter of a team that just successfully neutralized a catastrophic global threat. But in the co-pilot seat beside Dick, Damian sits completely still, staring out into the blackness of space.
Billy remains in his full, towering Captain Marvel persona, the magical static of living lightning still faintly humming beneath his skin and illuminating the gold accents of his uniform. The adrenaline of the fight is fading, replaced by a deep sense of relief. But as he looks toward the front of the cockpit, his powerful stance softens; he notices the heavy, rigid posture of his dad. Damian’s face is cast in shadow, his eyes fixed on the distant stars, enveloped in a deeply somber mood.
Stepping forward with the heavy, echoing stride of a champion, the hero walks up to the front deck, bracing his hand against the console. Even in this godlike form, he looks down at Damian with genuine vulnerability. "Hey," Billy asks softly, his booming voice dialed down to a whisper, shifting from battle-hardened hero to a concerned son. "Is everything alright?"
The quiet hum of a digital stylus sliding against glass breaks the silence. Damian looks up from his tactical tablet, pausing the data stream of the comprehensive after-action report he is compiling for the senior League members. He taps the screen, saves his report, and closes the interface.
Damian glances up at Billy, his gaze intense, carrying the cold gravity of a father and a commander who bears the weight of what they just witnessed.
"This type of experimentation must be found and destroyed," Damian says, his voice low but cutting right through the ambient noise of the cabin. "It is completely unforgivable what CADMUS was doing to those creatures. Splicing Apokoliptian biology with meta-human DNA to create mindless, agonizing weapons... it is a corruption of science and an insult to life itself."
Nightwing keeps his eyes on the docking alignment screens, but he offers a slow, solemn nod of agreement from the pilot's chair. The mission in Europe was a victory, but the House of IaX knows the war against CADMUS's hidden atrocities has only just begun. The Batwing glides smoothly into the Watchtower hangar bay, where the heavy pressure of the upcoming senior debrief awaits them.
The automated doors of the Watchtower conference room slide open with a heavy hydraulic hiss. Damian steps inside, his posture rigid and commanding, flanked by his team. Even in the presence of the world's greatest heroes, the House of Ibn al Xu'ffasch carries an unmistakable aura of disciplined authority.
Sitting around the massive central table are the senior members of the Justice League: Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Superman, Batman, and Mr. Terrific.
Shadow Commander approaches the center podium and taps his tablet. A brilliant, multi-layered holographic display blooms into the center of the room, projecting the genetic sequences, facility blueprints, and tactical logs recovered from the sub-levels.
With clinical precision, Damian begins his report. He outlines the infiltration, the structural layout of the rogue laboratory, the bypassing of the automated CADMUS security grids, and the exact timeline of their tactical deployment. There is no bravado in his delivery—only flawless, razor-sharp tactical analysis.
As he speaks, the senior members listen in complete silence. Wonder Woman offers a slow, respectful nod, her eyes reflecting deep appreciation for the discipline she foresaw three years ago. Martian Manhunter tracks the complex data points, his telepathic mind registering the absolute clarity and focus of Damian's leadership. Even Batman remains entirely still, his shadowed gaze fixed on the telemetry data, quietly recognizing that his biological son has evolved into a master strategist. The senior members are all visibly, profoundly impressed by the efficiency of the operation.
The mood shifts from admiration to stark gravity as Damian brings up the high-resolution scans of the three central containment chambers.
"The facility was utilizing advanced gene-splicing protocols," Damian explains, pointing to the glowing strand models. "They managed to harvest biological wreckage from your last major conflict. They were systematically grafting human meta-genes onto Apokoliptian tissue."
Superman leans forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table as the holographic projection reveals the grotesque, twitching fusion of the mutated Parademons. The Man of Steel's face goes pale, a look of genuine disbelief and shock washing over his features.
"Parademons..." Superman whispers, his voice strained and stunned. "CADMUS was experimenting on Darkseid's shock troops? On Earth?"
He looks up at Damian, his mind racing through the terrifying implications. "Splicing Apokoliptian physiology with human meta-genes is incredibly volatile. If those cellular structures had bonded perfectly, they would have created a self-replicating biological weapon completely immune to standard physical deterrence. It's madness."
"Which is why I ordered an immediate, total incineration of the aisle," Damian states firmly, meeting Superman's gaze without a shred of hesitation. "The specimens were compromised, unstable, and entirely devoid of sentience. They were weapons. The House of IaX neutralized them before the defrost cycle could conclude."
Mr. Terrific taps his console, pulling up the encrypted files Red Hood secured from the mainframe. "Shadow Commander's call was entirely correct, Superman. My initial decryption shows the automated system was thirty seconds away from an emergency venting procedure. If they hadn't burned those chambers, those things would have been flushed into the regional ecosystem."
The tension in the conference room dissipates into a collective, resolute focus. Batman leans forward, his gloved hands resting flat on the obsidian table.
"The tactical efficiency of this operation proves your readiness," Batman says, his eyes meeting his son's. "The Justice League formally mandates that the investigation into CADMUS will continue under Shadow Commander's lead."
Damian stands straight, nodding once to accept the official command. Beside him, Billy—still in his towering, majestic Captain Marvel persona—beams with uncontainable excitement. Seeing his dad recognized as the supreme authority for a high-level League operation fills him with immense pride, the glowing magic around his uniform pulsing in response to his joy.
The scope of the mission is made absolute by the senior table: they are to track down any additional operating CADMUS facilities globally and destroy any biological experimentation they are running.
"You won't be hunting these ghosts alone, Shadow Commander," Batman adds, his gruff voice carrying a rare undertone of parental pride. "I am offering my full assistance, along with Robin's. Gotham's network is at your disposal."
The room immediately fills with volunteers, the sheer gravity of CADMUS's transgressions uniting the heroes.
- Nightwing & Red Hood: Standing at the back of the briefing room, Dick and Jason don't hesitate. They step forward together, officially volunteering to assist with the deep-intel tracking and the physical takedown of the rogue labs.
- Superman: The Man of Steel sits quietly for a long moment, processing the horrific imagery of the spliced Parademons. His jaw tightens. He looks up directly at Damian. "This stays a covert operation to avoid a public panic, but the moment you locate a breeding facility, I am joining the takedown team. We shut this down for good."
With the full backing of the Justice League, the House of Ibn al Xu'ffasch now commands the ultimate strike force. The hunt for CADMUS has officially begun.
The glass of the Watchtower observation deck looks out into the silent majesty of Earth’s orbit, bathed in the sharp glare of a distant sun. Damian stands near the massive viewport, his posture finally relaxing slightly after the intensity of the briefing room. Beside him, Michael Holt—Mr. Terrific—is nodding along as they talk shop.
Damian is quietly chatting with Mr. Terrific about the precise upgrades he’s made to his expanded home command center. He explains how he managed to bridge the ancient League of Assassins operational architecture with the high-bandwidth systems they co-developed for the Watchtower.
Michael listens with rapt attention, genuinely impressed by how Damian managed to pack that level of processing power into a residential footprint near the university. "Honestly, Commander, that kind of integration sounds incredibly clean," Michael says, scratching his chin. "I’m very interested. Can I come by for a visit sometime soon to check it out in person?"
Nightwing, Batman, and Billy—still in his towering Captain Marvel form—are walking over across the wide, open deck and overhear the request as they approach.
Billy’s face lights up, completely breaking the serious military atmosphere of the platform.
"That would be great, Mr. Terrific!" Billy says cheerfully, his booming voice echoing warmly off the glass. "Robin is over at our place all the time anyway, so we always keep plenty of snacks on hand for visitors. You're welcome whenever you want!"
Dick smirks, nudging Batman with his elbow. "Hmmm. Bruce, it seems that the House of IaX is regularly hosting get-togethers. We may want to join in sometime, too."
Batman doesn't answer right away. Instead, his brow furrows as the weight of Billy's words sinks in. A faint, completely uncharacteristic look of surprise crosses his face, quickly mirrored by Nightwing’s wide-eyed expression.
Bruce and Dick had absolutely no idea that Tim was spending so much time with Damian and Billy.
"Wait," Dick cuts in, his teasing smirk completely vanishing as he looks back and forth between the father and son. "Tim is over at your place all the time? Since when?"
Damian merely sighs, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at Nightwing's sudden confusion. "He is an insomniac with a fondness for high-grade tactical servers and our kitchen pantry, Richard. It is not an international conspiracy."
Dick crosses his arms, a look of comical betrayal washing over his face. "I can't believe Tim never told us... especially me! How could he keep a secret like that from his big brother? I'm the one who taught him how to sneak out of the cave!"
Damian gives Dick a flat, unimpressed look. "Perhaps he simply wanted an environment free of your incessant hovering, Richard."
Before Dick can launch into a dramatic defense of his brotherly affection, Billy chuckles, his massive Captain Marvel shoulders shaking with laughter. He grins down at the group, dropping the next tactical bombshell with complete innocence.
"Well, if you think Tim's a surprise, you should see Jason," Billy says, beaming with amusement. "He’s at our place a lot, too. He usually shows up around dinner time and argues with Dad about weapon maintenance while eating all our food."
Dick freezes entirely, his jaw dropping as he turns slowly to look at Batman. Bruce merely closes his eyes, letting out a long, silent breath as he realizes his entire family has been secretly congregating behind his back at the House of IaX.
Damian turns back to Michael, completely ignoring Dick's dramatic meltdown. "Tomorrow afternoon works. Anytime after 15:30 is acceptable, especially if you would like to see Drake. He usually arrives around that time under the pretense of testing the local server nodes."
Michael smiles, tapping a quick reminder into his holographic interface. "Perfect. I'll see you then, Damian. I'm looking forward to reviewing that network layout."
Standing quietly beside them, Bruce absorbs the information. His analytical mind is already shifting his schedule around. He thinks that maybe he could leave Wayne Enterprises early tomorrow and join Tim to see Damian's place for himself.
The last time he and Alfred had actually set foot on the property was two years ago, back when Damian was still in the middle of remodeling the new home for himself and Billy. Since the House of IaX had become a highly active reserve unit, Bruce had strictly respected his son's boundaries and independence, keeping their interactions strictly professional at the Cave or the Watchtower. But hearing that his home had become a sanctuary for his boys makes the dark knight realize it's long past time for a proper visit.
"I may join you, Holt," Bruce says, his deep voice cutting through the ambient hum of the observation deck.
Dick snaps his head toward his mentor, his eyes wide. "Wait, if Bruce is going, then I'm definitely going too. And don't worry about the kitchen, Billy—we will bring the snacks."
Damian lets out a heavy, long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as his quiet technological review with Mr. Terrific transforms into an impromptu social gathering.