Chapter 1: The New Bruce Wayne
Chapter Text
So Bella Reál had had a point. And Selina had made the same point. And helping fish people out of the destruction had seemed to have sort of positive affect on the city.
They were less afraid. The innocent, anyway, maybe. Bruce knew he needed to make sure the not-so-innocent stayed exactly as afraid of him as before, or worse. It was going to be a balancing act.
While the Bat was working on his public image, so was Bruce Wayne.
It was something he would have loved to ask for Selina’s input on, but that wasn’t an option. Thankfully, Bella made it easy. She wanted to make connections with a network of transparent, do-gooder public figures, and she thought Bruce Wayne could be one of them.
“You’re Gotham to your bones, Mr. Wayne,” she said. “As much a part of this city as anything. You could be using your money to make real change happen here. Give the people something to hope for.”
He looked at her. “Like what?”
“Relief,” she said. “The city only had so much money set aside for disaster relief. A few non-profits have already shown up, but it won’t be enough. I’ve been doing my best to secure donations.”
“Donations to what specifically?”
“Every hospital on this island. Payments for emergency workers, we’ve been doing everything to hire more and they all still need overtime. The Build Back Stronger Project. I’m sure you heard we just passed an emergency vote through, but it’s gonna take more than a promise to actually rebuild people’s homes. We need to put our money where our mouth is. I’d like Gotham’s elite to help us do that. This is all of our city.”
“Can you give me a list?” he asked.
“What?”
“Of how much money is needed where.”
“Mr. Wayne, I don’t think even God has that much money. No single donor can fix this. Not completely.”
“So what could?”
She smiled wryly. “A thousand of them.”
“You want to have a party,” Alfred said.
“A fundraiser,” Bruce corrected.
“Here. At the Manor,” he said. “With you as the host.”
“It can’t be anywhere else,” he said. “I checked.”
Alfred stared at him.
“I’ll begin making the arrangements immediately,” he said.
Oliver Queen was Green Arrow. And he had RSVP’d to the fundraiser.
He and Bruce had gone to the same elite prep school. And a streak of green makeup across his eyes didn’t actually do anything against facial recognition software. Plus that really was very distinctive facial hair.
His identity must be something of an open secret in Star City. It was no wonder—everyone had always liked Ollie.
He had returned a year or two ago from being stranded on an island for five years, lost at sea. Green Arrow had immediately appeared in the city, targeting high-profile people connected to the Queen family. His materials were high quality, expensive. And he had made his start with literal Robin Hood-ing.
He partnered up frequently with Black Canary, who also operated out of Star City. Black Canary had been a founding member of the Justice Society of America, decades ago. Bruce easily concluded that this was not the same Black Canary as before. The mantle—and the superpower—had been passed along.
Somehow.
It had to be genetics. Was it possible for the second iteration to be a clone? No, they didn’t look that similar. There were notable differences. This implied that metahuman capabilities became hardwired into the DNA. That the change affected not just one person, but all of their descendants too.
He wondered what the Earth would be like a few generations from now.
Black Canary was a bit harder to identify, but eventually his program found a match to photos posted on social media. Dinah Laurel Lance. Daughter of Dinah Drake-Lance. By all accounts, a meek and unassuming florist. A wallflower.
She didn’t bother with a mask either. She didn’t need to. She used an eye-catching blonde wig instead, and no one in their right mind connected the vigilante in a black leather leotard and fishnets with the quiet woman who ran the flower shop downtown. It was brilliant.
It gave Bruce ideas. Bruce Wayne was about to reemerge to the public after having been a recluse for years. No one knew what he was like as a person. No one had really interacted with him and known his identity since he dropped out of med school. And how many people acted exactly the same as they had as teenagers? He could present himself as a changed man.
Bruce Wayne and Batman needed to be completely different people. He was in a very unique situation right now where he could ensure that happened.
If he ever ran into Green Arrow in the field, he didn’t want his identity to be immediately compromised. At the fundraiser this Saturday, Oliver Queen was going to see a Bruce Wayne who was the polar opposite of Batman.
He could do this. He was going to talk to people. He would make eye contact. He would say words without overthinking them.
It was okay if he said something dumb. It was a good thing if he said something dumb.
This was not real, this was not really him. It was okay if it was embarrassing because it wasn’t actually happening to him, it was happening to Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne threw around money. He looked women in the eye. He said things without scripting them first. He didn’t have any extraordinary skills or know too much about current events, especially things that may not have actually been in the news. He was a totally average, normal guy.
He was wearing a tailored suit. In a way, it felt like armor like his other suit was—it kept him covered, it kept him disguised. Dressed for battle.
He was standing in the center of the room.
He had grabbed a glass of champagne, earlier, and that had filled up about two minutes. Plus now he had something to hold. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing, otherwise.
He didn’t need to walk up to other people, right? They would walk up to him?
Someone did. Thank God.
“Heyyy, Brucie!” Oliver clapped him on the back in a hug. Tommy Merlyn, the other half of the inseparable pair, was at his side. Tommy also forced Bruce into a hug.
“Hey man, I haven’t seen you in forever. It’s been what, ten years?” Tommy asked.
“Ten years,” Bruce nodded.
He had to say more. He needed to keep the conversation going. Fuck.
It felt far longer than just ten years. Bruce had graduated boarding school early and moved onto pre-med immediately. He completed that in three years, then dropped out of medical school during the first semester and begun his five-year voyage of training.
Somehow, twenty-six felt ancient.
“Haven’t seen you since you got arrested,” he said to Oliver. His stomach dropped.
Tommy snorted and smacked his friend lightly. Oliver grinned. “Which time?”
“Uhm. I believe it was for pissing on a cop?” he said hesitantly, trying to pretend he had more confidence than he did. “Have you done that more than once?”
“Nope,” Oliver said, popping the ‘p’ on the word. “That was definitely one of my funner court cases, though.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you again. And out of jail, too,” he said. The mimicry came easy. Now that he had a role example to emulate, it was all just about sticking to the script. If he had a script, he could do it.
If his acting instructors could see him now…
“Nice to see you too. When I heard Bruce Wayne was throwing a party, I couldn’t believe it.”
“Took fifteen minutes to convince him it wasn’t a prank,” Tommy said. “I said to him, this is like seeing a blue moon. This is like seeing a leprechaun riding a unicorn over top a blue moon. We have to be there.”
A blue moon was just a colloquial term for the third full moon of an astronomical season containing four full moons. There’s a blue moon every two or three years.
He gave lazy smile. “I’m not the same Bruce Wayne I was in high school.”
Oliver’s lips quirked in what could have been a smile or a grimace. “I wish this was under better circumstances.”
Bruce shrugged. “The Riddler targeted me personally. He dragged my family’s name through the mud live across the globe.” He knocked back his champagne flute, downing half of it in one go. “I can’t think of a better excuse than that to get wasted.”
Tommy clapped hands on his shoulders congenially, and Bruce did not flinch. “Buddy, by the time this night is through, you won’t even remember who the Riddler is.”
The Martian Manhunter was a rumor. Currently.
So was Batman.
Other vigilantes were not so skilled in hiding their existence. Most metahumans didn’t seem to care. It was the others—the aliens—who did.
Or non-human sapient entities, more precisely. Bruce would work out sub-classifications later. He needed more data for that.
The figure they were calling Aquaman—the self-declared Atlantean—had brought it to light that humanity was not alone on this Earth. He had seemed to think nothing of it. By all accounts, he was genuinely perplexed that humans considered him a superhero. He didn’t do interviews so much as he got caught on tape in unfortunate situations. He was a sensation on Twitter.
There was also a woman in that same category of from-Earth-but-not-human. The military reports on her were absurd. Even more absurd than the news, and this was a woman who did things like chop off people’s heads in the middle of the street, surrounded by dozens of cameras and screaming civilians.
She had never been held at fault. She had never done anything that police or paramilitary troops hadn’t wished they could do themselves. The Air Force had even assigned her an official liaison. If this continued, the United States military would soon have an Amazonian warrior goddess on a leash.
There were a few things Bruce was able to verify. She had her first recorded appearance two months ago. She wore only the barest scraps of armor, and didn’t need even that—bullets bounced off her skin harmlessly. Didn’t even leave a bruise, as far as Bruce could tell. She also mainly fought with a sword and shield, and—oddly—a lariat. It was an ancient style. Suitable for an immortal, however.
From the footage, she had clearly spent a long time honing her craft. She was a swordswoman of the highest caliber. He wondered if she measured the same in hand-to-hand.
He hadn’t practiced his swordplay in too long. If he went up against her, he would lose in a heartbeat.
Assuming they were fighting within her preferred range. A sword was only useful when your opponent was within a specific distance of you. Her lariat could extend her range, but only by so much. A shuriken could be used from a much greater distance. And in close enough combat, a sword was useless, merely in the way.
That couldn’t be relied upon as a strategy, however. Her hand-to-hand skills were unknown. They could meet or even surpass her skills at swordfighting. It would be foolish to assume she didn’t have enhanced physical capabilities in addition to her expertise. The bulletproof skin was already known, and she seemed just a little too fast, a little too light on her feet. Definitely far too strong.
It was easy to place her in the same general category as Aquaman: not human, not metahuman, but still distinctly Terran.
The “Martian” was a different story.
Bruce did not believe for a second that he was actually from Mars. People saw a green, non-human being who behaved strangely and made assumptions, that was all. But the possibility of sapient extraterrestrial life could not be ruled out. Mathematically, scientifically, it would be a fool’s error.
Though the idea of that extraterrestrial life being humanoid and on Earth somehow was a slap in the face of statistics.
The Martian Manhunter was only ever seen in emergency situations. He didn’t exist outside of battle. As soon as the fight was over, he would disappear. Reports on him were twice as scarce as reports on the alleged goddess.
But Bruce did find grainy security camera footage of him after a fight seeming to just sink into the ground and disappear. As if it was liquid and not crumbling asphalt behind a Waffle House.
Bruce watched the video twenty-eight consecutive times.
He made Alfred watch it once, just to be sure. Alfred confirmed he wasn’t seeing things but still tried to make him go to bed anyway.
How did one even quantify that ability? Was he rearranging the matter around him, or his own molecules? Each answer had completely different advantages, uses, weaknesses. That didn’t even get into the laser eyes.
He also had clear combat training, though not on the level of the demigod. His physical abilities seemed beyond that of a human, too.
Not a human. Not a meta.
Something else.
He should assume the unknown had every possible advantage over him, every ability he could imagine. Always prepare for the worst. His plans needed to treat the three unknowns as if they had all the powers of every meta combined.
Alfred’s eyebrows rose steadily on his forehead. Bruce silently begged him not to say anything. Dick had fallen asleep about forty-five minutes ago, and Bruce didn’t want to wake him up for anything short of the actual end of the world.
The kid’s own world had just ended a few hours ago.
“Can you make up a guest bedroom,” he whispered. Alfred, ever the professional, nodded and went to do just that.
A half hour later, Bruce had transferred Dick into his new bed and Alfred had ordered him to sit down while he made them both tea.
A fine porcelain cup was pressed into his hands.
“What happened?” Alfred asked.
“You told me to go out and have some fun,” he said. Alfred nodded. “So I went to the circus.” Another nod. “Two trapeze artists died there. I suspect foul play.”
“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “Where does the child factor into all of this?”
“His parents were murdered.”
“…I see,” Alfred said. “And authorities waived regulations to allow you to become an emergency foster parent?”
“…Yes.”
“The Batman cannot protect Gotham if he is serving a prison sentence for child abduction, Master Bruce.”
“I’ll get the paperwork in order tomorrow.” He sipped his tea. It was good. Warm.
“So… I’m… Batman.”
Dick stared at him. “No you aren’t.”
Bruce kinda froze.
Dick looked at him expectantly.
“Okay,” Bruce said. He felt like he should say something. He had no goddamn clue what, though.
“You can’t just say okay,” Dick said. “You’re supposed to try to convince me.”
He shrugged. “I’d rather not.”
“What’s the real reason you have a spy lab?”
“I’m Batman.”
Dick stomped his foot. “No you aren’t!”
Bruce turned back to the computer displays. Most windows displayed reports of some type, but a few were running hacked surveillance footage. He had also taken to monitoring certain parts of the internet.
And he was learning Spanish.
“If you’re Batman, then you have to teach me to fight.”
He turned back around to face his ward. “Why?”
“So I can get revenge for my parents.”
He considered Dick. What would have been best for him, Bruce, at that point in his life. What he would have wanted most.
To have not felt powerless, obviously. To have not needed to become Vengeance. But there was no changing that his parents had been murdered, and there was no changing that for Dick either.
He could at least make the path easier for him. Less angry and more hopeful.
He saw himself in Dick but Dick didn’t need to have it so hard. Bruce had been through it before. He knew. And he could help.
“Okay,” he said. “What can you already do?”
The most powerful being Batman had ever encountered got in a knock-down drag-out fight with a being who had his exact same powers, but with military experience and two equally dangerous lackeys.
Inexplicably, he won.
The fight was well televised. “Superman” used heat vision similar to the Martian’s. He flew. He was fast, meta-human fast. The fight did more damage to the surroundings than missiles would have. The aliens threw around rubble the size of boulders as if they were baseballs.
Cold dread sunk into Bruce’s chest.
Superman didn’t go away after the fight. He became a public figure. He put out fires and rescued kittens from trees and prevented train accidents on the other side of the world as he heard them happening.
He kept rescuing this one reporter who was too sharp to be getting in that much danger accidentally, and then she published an interview with him.
He admitted to having x-ray vision, but being unable to see through lead. He announced he was an alien named Kal-El from the planet Krypton and he lived in a Fortress of Solitude at the North Pole. He claimed to spend so much time in Metropolis out of a preference for the city. There was an undertone of flirting that Bruce read between the lines.
He did an interview. He admitted to previously unknown strengths and weaknesses. He gave his full name and home address. He was tricked with shocking ease by a reporter with a pretty face.
He could not be trusted under any circumstances.
Chapter 2: The Justice League of America
Chapter Text
As part of his continued efforts to create the appearance of a social life, he was also showing up at Wayne Enterprises sometimes.
At first, it had been because he genuinely needed to make sure something was done about the Renewal fund. And now he was looking around for further wrongdoing. He needed to know if any of the leadership were embezzling or part of the mob or anything. Who knows.
He had uncovered three names so far that he needed to somehow get rid of. But he wasn’t going to be getting anything out of this particular meeting.
“Mr. Wayne!” someone snapped. He jerked awake in his chair.
(He had trained himself out of that instinct years ago, but most people hadn’t.)
“Um,” he sat up, shifting limbs around. “What?”
“Your vote, Mr. Wayne?” a board member asked dryly.
“Right! Of course,” he said. “My vote on what?”
Bruce Wayne had no shame. Bruce Wayne wouldn’t be embarrassed to have fallen asleep in a board meeting. Bruce Wayne did not care if everyone knew he had stayed up ‘til 4:00 am last night and then not been paying attention at all to the running of his company.
He had enough control over his body to ensure he hid his natural reaction.
“The adoption of the revised personnel policy as rewritten by the executive team,” the board member said.
“Oh, that. Um, yeah, sure. Yes.” He smiled.
The cave now had an advanced gymnastics set up.
“How many flips can you do in a row?” Bruce asked.
“Three,” he said. “Without hurting anyone, anyway.”
“What?”
Dick continued his blindfolded walk across the slack rope. It was about eight feet in the air currently. “A quadruple flip can’t be done,” he said. “People have been trying for seventy years. There’s no way to catch the flyer after. Too much momentum. It dislocates the catcher’s shoulders and rips the skin off their hands.”
“And that’s when the catcher has the strength to absorb the impact.”
“Well, duh.” Dick reached the end of the line and jumped down, landing gracefully in a crouch. He undid his blindfold.
“I’d like to set up some sandbag dummies and see what happens when you hit them after as many flips as possible.”
Dick’s eyes widened. “As many flips as possible?”
Bruce nodded. “Your opponents’ strength becomes irrelevant if you can slam your full weight into them at a hundred miles an hour. Do your worst.”
Dick’s expression was pure glee.
Four costumed morons sat in front of an absolutely giant American flag with a swarm of reporters and newscasters around them.
Every muscle in Bruce’s body was tense. Dick leaned forward to the TV eagerly.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming,” Black Canary said. “As some of you may have already guessed, I chose the Gotham Plaza Hotel as the famous meeting site of the Justice Society of America. We would like to formally announce that we are banding together as a group.”
“We are?” Flash asked. He hadn’t covered the microphone as well as he must have intended.
“Yes,” Black Canary said. “Any questions?”
“Are you intending to be the new JSA?”
“What’s your team name?”
“Uhh, we’re like—super… friends…” Flash said.
“The Justice League,” Green Lantern said.
“—Of America!” Black Canary said.
“Does this mean that crises in other countries will be—”
“Are you recruiting other members? Will Superman be joining you?”
“How involved is the United States government—?”
This could not be happening.
“Are you gonna join?” Dick asked.
“No,” Bruce said instantly.
“Why? Don’t you wanna have super friends?”
“A team like that shouldn’t be about friendship. It should be a professional coalition.”
“Can’t it be both?”
He watched the newly formed Justice League fumble to answer the most basic questions. It didn’t look like they had hashed things out at all before starting the press conference. No forethought went into this whatsoever. “Not with a group like that.”
He spent an exorbitant amount of money anonymously purchasing a building through a chain of shell companies that were registered under an alias that had been established in France.
A building in Rhode Island.
The Justice League had expanded to six members now: Black Canary, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Flash, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter. The alien had stepped out of the shadows.
It probably seemed safer, now that Superman had done it and received such a warm welcome.
It had all happened so naturally. Black Canary and Green Arrow worked together so often they might as well be partners. They operated out of the same city and had a familiarity so strong they barely needed to speak during fights. The Flash and Green Lantern were apparently friends.
Green Lantern had had a mission in Star City. He had called in the Flash for an assist, or a “consult,” as he put it. The local vigilantes had shown up shortly after. The self-replicating aliens invading Star City were quickly dispatched.
Aquaman and Martian Manhunter had publicly joined a few days later, for unknown reasons.
Bruce sent a third party to inform the Justice League that an anonymous donor had so generously gifted them a fully-equipped headquarters. And—confirming all his worst fears—they accepted that, with no other information at all.
They didn’t even ask any real questions.
It was a nightmare. They were like kids playing dress up. They thought that powers alone made them invincible. They didn’t even look for all the spyware that Batman had hidden everywhere.
All of Green Lantern’s power completely relied on his ring, which was powerless against anything yellow. Martian Manhunter was weakened by fire. His abilities included shapeshifting, invisibility, super hearing, telepathy, phasing, flight, telekinesis, nine heightened senses, superspeed… The list went on. Aquaman had some degree of empathic abilities. The Flash was desperately in love with some civilian girl.
His name was Barry. Green Lantern had just blurted that out, unprompted.
The Martian Manhunter—J’onn J’onzz—had then suggested that perhaps they should keep their identities to themselves.
Bruce documented everything into each of their files.
“I—You can’t be here,” Bruce said.
Dick folded his arms. “Why not?”
The kid was wearing a craft store mask that had been painted and decorated with feathers, gemstones, and glitter. He was wearing his old circus performing outfit but with a blanket cut up and tied around his neck as a cape.
It was 11:00 on a Wednesday. They were in Crime Alley.
Dick’s entire outfit, cape included, had been doused in glitter.
“It’s a school night,” Bruce said.
“I did my homework.”
That was true, Bruce had even helped. It had been hard. It turns out that explaining how to break down math mentally was much more difficult than just doing math or even solving cases.
There was really no reason that Dick had to sit at home tonight.
“…You aren’t trained.”
“I’ve been training every day!”
“But not enough.”
“Every. Day!”
“You don’t know everything yet,” he said. “It’s not about time. It’s about skill mastery.”
“I’m going to kill my parents’ murderer and you can’t stop me.”
“You can’t kill anyone.”
“Yes I can. I’ve been practicing.”
“No,” he said. “It’s against the rules.”
“What?”
“House rules. No murder.”
“But you’re Batman!”
“I don’t kill,” he said. “You won’t either.”
“I don’t have to listen to you.”
Dick glared at him. Bruce stared back.
He picked the kid up and carried him to the car. Dick screamed bloody murder, but they were in Crime Alley. No one cared.
It was the eighth night in a row that Bruce had been forced to end patrol early after Dick snuck out to go investigate.
The silence in the cave was tense.
Attempts to send Dick to bed would just result in more escape attempts, so here they were. Dick was passive aggressively throwing shuriken (“they’re called batarangs, Bruce, geez”) at a target while swinging around the cave (“Batcave”) with his grappling hook. Bruce was on his 328th pushup.
Dick eventually got bored swinging around the same confined space and dropped to the floor to do pushups next to his guardian. His form was perfect, of course, but he was going too fast.
“Pace yourself,” Bruce said. “This is not speed training. You’ll get exhausted more quickly that way.”
“I could do this all night,” Dick said.
“No you couldn’t,” he said. “Neither could I. It would be a bad idea to do the same exercise for that length of time. More harm than good.”
“Well I can do it as long as you can do it.”
Bruce rose out of his stance into a lotus position. “Dick,” he said. “I don’t expect you to perform at the same level as me. I’ve been doing this for years, for one thing, and you don’t have the physical advantages that going through puberty will give you yet.”
Dick threw himself back angrily. “So, what? I can’t go out until I’m sixteen?”
“No,” he said. “No, you just need to prove you’re capable.”
“How do I do that?”
He considered.
“You stay out in the city all night without me catching you,” he said. “And you need a costume.”
“What’s wrong with my Flying Grayson costume?”
“It’s identifiable. Someone could recognize it and find out who you are,” he said. “Your identity is the most valuable thing you have.”
Wonder Woman joined the Justice League. So did Superman, two weeks later.
The team battled some sort of massive underwater problem—an attempted invasion, apparently politics down there were just as messy as on land.
Bruce noted down more strengths. And fewer weaknesses.
Contingency plans were ready for four out of the eight.
Harvey Dent was—
Harvey Dent was Batman’s responsibility. He had failed him, his friend, and now it was his job to pick up the pieces. To minimize the damage however he could.
His friend. His mistake. His villain. His responsibility.
“Get out,” he growled at Superman. He swung another punch so hard it sent a goon reeling backwards, flat on his ass.
“I’m just trying to help,” Superman said. He was creating an ice wall to block off the exits.
“I don’t need it.”
“Well, you’re getting help anyway.”
Batman seethed and his next kick was just a bit more sharp. “Get out of my city.”
“Not until this is dealt with.” Superman melted down someone’s gun with his laser vision.
“This isn’t your typical scale of problem.”
“He was going to bomb half of a major city.”
“I had it handled.”
“Can’t hurt to have someone at your back.” He swung a punch. He was pulling his blows, obviously, or the goon’s head wouldn’t still be attached.
“Yes it can.”
“Come on,” he said. “I don’t see why you have such a problem with this!”
“I don’t work with untrained and untested individuals.”
“Untested?!” he said incredulously. “I’m part of the Justice League!”
“I know,” he bit out.
A look of offense crossed Superman’s face. They finished out the fight in relative silence. Superman melted down the ice brigade to let cops swarm in and make their arrests.
Dick wanted his code name to be Robin, a nickname his mother had used for him, as her little Dickiebird had been born on the first day of spring. He insisted his suit be in the Flying Grayson colors.
“No. No. What the fuck,” a cop said, approaching them rapidly. “Son, are you alright? Did this man kidnap you?”
“What? No,” Robin said.
“Did he make you put on that outfit?”
“Well, I couldn’t go out in my regular clothes.”
“Don’t you worry, we’re gonna get you somewhere safe. Batman, you’re under arrest—”
Other police officers were converging. Officer Fuller tried to grab at Batman’s wrists but he evaded it easily. Cops started shouting, a few others trying to intervene and help arrest him. Robin was now also shouting. And fuck, the cops were trying to get between them, trying to separate them. A wisp of fear grabbed his heart.
He attacked.
“Whoa whoa whoa, what’s going on here?” Gordon asked. He spread his arms, trying to push people apart. Everyone followed his lead. Gordon had enough force of will to command any commander. He was a leader of leaders, and it came to him as natural as breathing.
“I’m arresting the Bat,” Fuller spat.
“On what charges?” Gordon asked.
“Everything,” he said. “Your freak here has a kid captive and he isn’t wearing pants. I’m gonna throw the goddamn book at him. You can’t protect him this time, Gordon, this is too far.”
“I’m not a captive!” Robin said.
It was at that point Gordon finally registered him. He looked Robin over and sighed. “Hey kid,” he said. “What’s your name?”
Dick puffed out his chest. “As a hero, I go by Robin.”
“Okay, Robin. Do your parents know you’re here?”
Rage shot across his face and for a second, Batman really thought he was going to punch Jim Gordon in the gut. But Robin looked over to Batman and smothered the reaction. “Yes,” he said. “They know exactly what I’m doing.”
“And they’re okay with it?”
“They’re proud.”
“Alright then. Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”
“Batman says I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to and I don’t wanna wear pants.”
“Gordon, you aren’t seriously buying this?” a cop asked.
“He can pick his own clothes,” Batman said.
“Yeah! It’s my superhero costume, so I get to design it!”
“Okay,” Gordon said carefully. “Now, I know what Batman told you, but sometimes we do have to do things we don’t want to. Like eat our vegetables and get a good night’s sleep. Right?” He looked to Batman. Batman tilted his head. Gordon clenched his jaw. “Even adults need to eat vegetables and sleep for eight hours.”
His voice was louder than usual there. Weird.
“And another thing we all have to do is wear appropriate clothing for a situation. Like pants, at night, when it’s cold out. And armor. Anytime you’re around the Bat at all.”
“He has armor,” Batman said.
“Yeah, well he needs armor on his legs too,” Gordon said. “And next time I see him, it better be there. You understand me?”
Batman said nothing.
Robin shifted around restlessly. “Can we go back to the Batcave now?”
“A cave?!”
“Do you live in a cave?”
Robin snorted. “He does.”
“Robin,” Batman said.
Robin waved a hand half-heartedly and went to go sit in the Batmobile’s driver seat, starting it up while he waited.
Gordon stared at Batman grimly. “Do you actually live in a cave?”
Batman stared back.
Knowledge was power. The less people had on him, the better. Not answering the question kept all the intel on his side.
On the other hand, if the police started looking for caves, they might actually find his.
“No,” he said.
“Way too long a pause,” Officer McNeal said.
Batman walked away.
Chapter 3: Childish
Summary:
Not one single brain cell in this chapter
Notes:
Kay when I first started writing this Dick was nine in my mind but then the rapid-onset Robins idea occurred to me and so I aged him up so the other batkids would not be toddlers in comparison. Though I'm still scrunching all their age gaps together. Not gonna have a five year difference between Dick and Jason or a six year difference between Tim and Damian. Anyway, all this to say-- pretend that I did not write quite as childish as I did in the past two chapters
Also I won't apologize for dropping off the face of the earth for a while. Expect me to be erratic. The updates come when they come.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Batman pressed a few keys to project the Hall of Justice conference room’s microphones at full volume.
“—like a bat. Like a giant, scary, bat. The cops called him Batman,” Superman said.
“What the fuck,” Aquaman said. “Like some kind of furry shit?”
“You’re a fish?” Green Lantern said. Aquaman reeled across the table and grabbed him by the collar.
“You got a problem with sea life, buddy?” he threatened.
“Nope. Nope, just clarifying.”
“And then he told me to get out of his city and that he could handle it himself,” Superman continued. “He was mad that I showed up to help.”
“That’s weird,” Flash said. He was eating a small mountain of burgers and fries at the moment. Superspeed impacted his metabolism acutely. Batman suspected he had been perpetually hungry on at least some level since he got his powers.
“If he hates heroes in Gotham so much, he’s lucky we didn’t end up operating out of the Gotham Plaza Hotel like we planned,” Black Canary said. Aquaman rolled his eyes.
“Some species can be pretty territorial,” Green Lantern said.
“You suspect he is not human?” Martian Manhunter asked.
“I’m just saying—have we ruled out vampires?”
“Dude, it would be so cool to work with a vampire,” Flash said.
“Right?” Green Lantern grinned.
“…The Gotham Bat does not seem friendly and I think he may hate us,” Superman said.
“Professional jealousy?” Black Canary suggested.
“Nah, he ain’t human,” Green Lantern said.
“You are the resident expert on all extraterrestrial life in this sector,” Martian Manhunter said. “What are your theories?”
“I’m dead serious about the vampire thing. Maybe not vampires as they’re traditionally thought of on Earth, but folk tales often have a grain of truth, and it makes sense that somewhere out there—"
Batman clicked the feed off. He would watch the rest of it later. He needed… a break.
This was Earth’s last line of defense. These people, who either mutated randomly, got their powers through an extraterrestrial fluke, or were the drunken party guy Bruce had gone to high school with.
Technically Wonder Woman and Aquaman didn’t fit into those categories. But that definitely didn’t mean that Batman trusted them. Wonder Woman was a nuke waiting to happen under ARGUS’s thumb. And all of Twitter knows what Aquaman has done. Too much of what Aquaman has done.
None of the Justice League had experience interacting with the press and it was obvious. Superman had actually told the team at one point to tell the full truth and leave no details out. Then their post-battle press conference had been dissected to death in the news reels. People had many opinions on how they should have handled it.
Batman would need to look into Lois Lane’s background and connections too, come to think of it.
And there were calls for them to unmask and pay for damages. Batman was worried they actually might.
Superman had not only x-ray but microscopic vision and they still hadn’t found any of the bugs. Because they. Haven’t. Even. Looked. If Batman could plant spyware in the Hall, then anyone could. What if an enemy was watching and listening and preparing ways to take them out? Batman was going to have to go the Hall of Justice and regularly inspect it himself.
And they thought he was vampire.
“I don’t see what the problem is!” Dick slammed his backpack down onto a chair. Alfred tutted.
“You can’t fight other students at school,” Bruce said.
“They started it!” he said. “What, am I not allowed to defend myself?”
“No, of course you’re allowed to defend yourself,” he said. “Do you understand why you were suspended?”
“The principal’s a jerkface.”
“You beat six boys badly enough for them all to need medical attention. One had to go to urgent care. And you don’t have a mark on you.”
Dick’s face twisted. “I’m good at what I do. It’s not my fault the principal didn’t believe me.”
Bruce floundered.
“Oh, don’t look at me,” Alfred said. “I wouldn’t be any help at all. I was never able to convince you to stop getting in fights when you were in school.”
Dick gasped. “Hypocrite!” he said. “You would’ve done the same thing. You did do the same thing!”
Alfred left the dining room to go make the afterschool tea and snacks. The traitor.
“I… shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake,” Bruce said. He could hear Alfred smirking from the other room. “Those other boys don’t have your training. It wasn’t a fair fight.”
“And it would have been if I didn’t have training?” Dick folded his arms.
No, it wouldn’t have. Six on one? And the kids had been in higher grades at the middle school than Dick was. The only reason they knew he existed was because of all the press—“Billionaire Bruce Wayne Takes In Circus Orphan” was apparently big news, even though Penguin had just gone on an arson string and burned five buildings down.
Dick’s life circumstances and Romani heritage had not been treated kindly by gossip tabloids. So-called “journalists” may as well be writing the material directly for the bullies. Months had passed, and new clickbait had come and gone, but middle schoolers were still the same.
Bruce was honestly considering punching the next person who implied in any way that Dick (and/or his parents) had arranged all of this and were tricking the naïve, trusting billionaire in some long con to steal his fortune. Though punching might undermine his point here.
“…It was excessive force to use against civilians,” he said. “You could have gotten out of that situation without anyone going to the hospital. I know you could have.”
Dick rolled his eyes.
“Dick, this is serious,” Bruce said. “I didn’t give you this training so you could beat unarmed children to a pulp. This was not an appropriate response to the level of threat. It was unacceptable behavior for Robin.”
“I wasn’t acting as Robin, I was acting as myself.”
“You were using Robin methods that you wouldn’t have had otherwise. It was inappropriate and a risk to your identity.”
Alfred reappeared with a tray of tea and cookies. They both took their portions. Just looking at how much sugar Dick put in his tea made Bruce want to gag. He truly did not understand children. To think, he had once been one of them.
“So what is the verdict?” Alfred asked.
“Verdict?” Dick asked.
“I believe the school gave you a suspension with the intention of it being a punishment, not simply a week of no school.”
Oh.
“You’re grounded,” Bruce said.
“What?!”
He nodded. Grounded. That sounded right. Dick had put a kid in the hospital, after all. It was just a couple stitches and a concussion check, but still.
“You can’t ground me!”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t!” he said. “You’re not my dad! This was never part of the deal, Bruce! You promised me. You swore to me you weren’t trying to replace my real dad. You don’t get to act like a parent to me because you aren’t.”
Like a stab to the chest. “Be that as it may,” he swallowed. “I am still your legal guardian. I’m in charge of you until you’re eighteen.”
“As my commanding officer! I came here to train under Batman and avenge my parents’ murder and that’s it! I never agreed to be your kid. That wasn’t part of the deal. We aren’t family, Bruce!”
Dick rattled the table getting up and stormed out of the dining hall. Bruce stared down into his tea. Alfred rested a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. Alfred arched an eyebrow inquisitively. “For all the times I said that to you.”
“Status report.” Waller’s voice was clipped over the line, her voice stern up on the giant screen.
“We successfully dealt with an attempted robot takeover of Finland,” J’onn said. “The issue came to our attention on June 25th when an anonymous tip was submitted to our online contact page. Black Canary immediately alerted the team to begin looking into it and the situation was quickly confirmed over social media and Finnish news networks. Wonder Woman, myself, Superman, and the Flash arrived on the scene 2 to 8 minutes later. We engaged the robots in combat—”
J’onn’s report was thorough, exact, and flawless as usual. He was their main face to ARGUS and by extension, the United States government, these days. Formerly, their government assigned liaison had been Steve Trevor of the Air Force, and he had that role for Wonder Woman specifically. But then the Justice League had formed, and ARGUS had swooped in and decreed that “managing” them was above the Air Force’s jurisdiction.
So now Diana didn’t see Steve Trevor so much and Amanda Waller kept things less friendly and more business-like. It was good. Professional.
“Excellent work. And how is your investigation into the Batman progressing?” Waller asked.
“No progress,” J’onn said.
“What? Well, what have you done in the past week?”
“Stopped a robot takeover of Finland, ma’am,” Green Lantern said. He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table.
“The Batman is a dangerous criminal who has assaulted nine officers and is on Gotham City’s most wanted list. He has evaded arrest for months of increased hunting now. I want him found.”
“And he’s a jerk,” Green Arrow said.
“Yeah, Supes says he’s a jerk,” Flash said.
“I didn’t say that!”
“Frankly, Director Waller, we have far more immediate issues to deal with than chasing down a man who is doing the same thing we are,” Wonder Woman said.
“Let me make one thing clear to you people: Batman is not doing the same thing as you. He is not like you. He is a violent vigilante unsanctioned by the government and beyond our control. He has tortured people. He has broken into police records, contaminated crime scenes, and stolen evidence. He answers to no one and has his own agenda. I don’t care what you do, but I want him either brought in and rehabilitated or put down before he has a body count. Is that clear?”
Silence.
“Yes ma’am,” Black Canary said.
Captain Marvel just appeared one day. On Youtube. He posted way too many videos of him and a small child testing out exactly what his powers were.
In one video, the kid lit him on fire to see if he was invulnerable to fire. There had been absolutely nothing around to put out the fire or provide wound care if he hadn’t been.
Captain Marvel was also taking cash payments for saving people. There was found footage of him egging two thieves on into shooting him in the face to see if it could hurt him. Again, no precautions.
Batman assessed him as the current greatest threat to the planet Earth as a whole.
And then five more people in versions of his suit popped up, each with just one of his powers. And then they all made official Twitter accounts. And of course, continued posting power-testing videos designed to give Bruce stress.
Then most members of the Justice League also made official Twitter accounts for their alternate identities. Within days, Captain Marvel was part of the League.
Captain Marvel was actually an eight-year-old kid living in Fawcett, Pennsylvania. His real name was William Batson but he went by Billy. All of his foster siblings lined up perfectly as potential matches for the other Marvels, but the evidence as yet was circumstantial.
A random eight-year-old child had power that could level Superman.
Bruce sat in silence in the cave for three hours.
“Took in another one?” Gordon asked, lighting up a cigarette.
“Hm?”
“The new kid,” he said, nodding to his own daughter, currently dressed as Batgirl and chatting with Robin.
Dick was thirteen now and Barbara was sixteen. He had been following her around with starry eyes since she first showed up in a homemade costume and announced that she was Batgirl.
What was Jim asking here? Obviously she wasn’t Bruce’s kid.
“I’ll keep her safe,” he said.
“Good,” Jim said. He shook his head mournfully. “Where do you keep finding these kids, Batman?”
What the fuck.
Batman brought it up as soon as they were all in the cave for patrol reports. “Does your father not know that you are Batgirl?”
Babs frowned. “Of course not? I’m careful, Bruce.”
“Wh—” How the fuck was he supposed to deal with this? “Why.”
She looked at him like he was a moron. “Because he would totally flip out if he did.”
He stared at her.
Gordon was going to kill him.
Should he tell him? Should he forbid Batgirl from operating? No, she’d just go back to what she had done before. Barbara decided to be a vigilante independently. Batman and Robin just meant that at least she had resources and people to call on. He wasn’t going to see her go back to doing it alone.
Gordon might throw him in jail and destroy his life completely if he found out about this. His identity would be public. Dick’s would too. Rogues would come for him and Alfred and Bruce would be helpless to stop it or even witness it firsthand from behind bars. And then he would inevitably die under mysterious circumstances that are never fully investigated.
“How careful?” he asked. “Explain to me your security measures.”
Batgirl nodded and gave her report.
Notes:
Okay I know this one is a bit short but that's because the next plot event definitely needs an entire chapter to itself lol
Chapter 4: Capture & Interrogation
Summary:
Batman is captured. Bruce is interrogated. He generally hates this.
Notes:
I honestly wasn't planning on writing today, much less working on this specific fic, but a comment by anonhatesusernames made me start thinking about this fic again. Hope this chapter holds up to the quality of the others, it wasn't quite what I planned on writing
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There were eyes on him. He could feel them on the back of his neck, a creeping sensation down his spine.
He spun a kick out at another one of Penguin’s goons. Two more came up behind him, and he shrugged them off like rainwater, knocking one down hard and sending the other scrambling backwards.
Money could only buy so much.
Another had also started running, and the Penguin was screaming obscenities at them. Batman rushed to the last goon in a liquid movement and hit him in the solar plexus before he had a second to process. The goon let out an “oof” and stumbled back, but stayed upright and fired off his gun. The bullet hit his left chest armor and got lodged in the polymeric amyloid fiber.
Batman grunted. He punched the guy in the throat.
He stood for a moment or two, breathing hard, letting the adrenaline racing through his system begin to slow. Meditative breathing techniques. He’d lived for three months as a monk to master that skill.
“Enjoy the show?” he asked.
“Very much.” Wonder Woman stepped forward out of the shadows, eying him appreciatively. “You have been trained well. I would like to see how you hold up against an Amazon.”
“So certain of your victory, Princess?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why should I not be?”
The lariat lashed towards Batman’s ankles, but he had been expecting that, he jumped to the side smoothly and flung a batarang as easy as breathing. And then they were at it.
Three minutes later, it turned out that Batman was not, in fact, able to defeat the goddess princess of the Amazons. He was wrapped very tightly in glowing golden rope.
“Who are you?” Diana asked.
“Batman.”
“No. What is your name?”
“Batman.”
“Who are you truly? Before the suit, before the crimefighting, who were you then?”
“Batman! I’m Batman!” the Lasso forced out of him. Diana stared deeply into his eyes, as if she could somehow see the answer that the Lasso of Hestia couldn’t reveal.
“You have a willful mind, Batman.”
“Or maybe I’m telling the truth.”
“So it’s true? You are not human?”
He gritted his teeth. The rope was burning. His armor may as well be chiffon. He swore he could almost feel the marks being branded into his flesh.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Then what are you?”
“Batman.”
Wonder Woman sighed. She hauled Batman over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and flew off.
“Hm? What the fuck?” Green Lantern asked.
“I’ve captured Batman!” Wonder Woman announced proudly.
“Oh shit,” Flash said. “We should tell Waller.”
“Wait!” Black Canary said. “We should do interrogation first. Then we’ll have real answers to give her.”
“Good idea,” Green Lantern said. “Take him to the Box.”
Wonder Woman nodded acquiescently and led Batman away to one of the interrogation rooms. The Hall of Justice had five such rooms in it, and thirty secure, isolated holding cells. None of them had ever been used before.
“You’re not the boss. You know that, right?” Green Arrow asked drily.
“Then who is, smartass? I’m literally the fearless leader,” Green Lantern said.
“Black Canary,” Green Arrow said instantly. His girlfriend flashed a smile at him.
“Aquaman is an actual king,” Flash pointed out.
“You couldn’t pay me to be in charge of this group. And Diana’s a princess. Plus, she could kick all our asses.”
“I could totally take Wonder Woman in a fight,” Captain Marvel said.
“You could not,” Green Arrow said.
“Perhaps we should discuss how to interrogate Batman instead,” J’onn said.
“Whaddaya mean, ‘how’?” Flash asked.
“J’onn’s suggesting torture,” Green Lantern said.
“No I was not. But we do need a strategy.”
Wonder Woman reentered the meeting room and snagged the nearest seat at the conference table. “Our friend J’onn is right. This Batman fellow knows how to evade my Lasso.”
“What?” Black Canary asked
“I thought that was impossible,” Superman said.
Wonder Woman nodded. “The Lasso compels the truth. But Batman has a way of twisting his own mind. No matter how I phrased the question, he answered truly that he was Batman. No other name.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have one,” Captain Marvel said, waggling his eyebrows. “Because he’s a bat monster who’s lived in the tunnels under Gotham for hundreds of years.”
“For the last time, Batman doesn’t actually live in a cave.”
“You don’t know that! Superman heard reliable sources—”
“We need to use old-fashioned human methods of questioning,” Flash said. “Like cops do.”
“Something tells me that isn’t gonna work on this guy,” Black Canary said.
“Combined with the Lasso of Truth, it may prove fruitful,” Martian Manhunter said.
“I should do the questioning. I work with the police,” Flash said.
“You’re the forensics guy. I’m the only one here who’s actually in law enforcement,” Green Lantern said.
“Funny, you sound proud of that,” Green Arrow said.
“Do you have a problem—”
“You’re wrong. I have spent several decades as a human detective named John Jones,” J’onn said.
“Really?” Superman asked. J’onn nodded.
“Actual detective beats space cop,” Aquaman said.
“This doesn’t address what we’re going to do after,” Superman said. “Is Batman a prisoner? Are we holding him, or handing him over to Waller? We should try to get him to trust us.”
“He does not seem like a very trusting man,” Wonder Woman said.
“Gee, what gave it away?” Green Lantern asked.
“If we go in hostile now, we could potentially lose a very powerful ally forever,” Superman said.
“And that’s a bad thing?” Aquaman asked. “Guy seems like an asshole. I mean, come on, he fought Diana.”
“I’m not sure I’d be comfortable on the same team as Batman,” Flash said.
“I would! He seems cool,” Captain Marvel said.
“Barry’s got a point. There’s a reason this man is on the most wanted list. In Gotham,” Green Lantern said. “We should proceed with caution. He has a habit of beating up people on the side of the law. Vigilante and hero are not the same thing.”
“Hero and cop aren’t either,” Green Arrow said.
“Remind me again, how many people have you kil—”
“Guys,” Flash said. “J’onn’s a telepath.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So,” Dinah said. “To the interrogation room?”
When they got there, it was empty, and the Lasso was missing.
“I’m so glad we didn’t tell Mrs. Waller,” Captain Marvel said.
“Holy plant monsters, Batman!”
“Bringing a kid is cheating!” Poison Ivy yelled. Batman was frankly just glad she wouldn’t use the lust pollen with Robin around.
He couldn’t believe someone’s weapon of choice was homemade lust pollen, and worse, that it was actually effective in preventing anyone with interfering with her schemes.
“End this now. We can both walk away,” Batman said.
Poison Ivy shook her head. “Not an option. Protecting the harbor is too important.”
“There are ways to do that without terrorism!”
She laughed bitterly. Robin came up from behind her and kicked her in the side, making her double over. Giant thorned vines rose up around her and picked Robin up in the sky. He wriggled within their grip. Batman’s heart caught in his throat.
“You let me do what I need to do, and you get your little birdie back, deal?”
Batman stared, every muscle tense.
“Fine,” he bit out.
“What?!” Robin squawked.
“Let him go.”
Poison Ivy smiled. The vine began to move, but before it could get more than a foot away from her, Robin dropped out suddenly with a batarang clutched in his hand, covered in plant goo. He landed on his feet light as a feather and had Ivy pinned on the ground in seconds. Batman rushed forward and cuffed her, dragging her along by the cuff chain and scooping up Robin in his arms. He got them both to the Batmobile as fast as he could, throwing Ivy in the backseat and climbing up front, closing the doors behind them and cutting off the reaching vines. They started creeping around the sides of the vehicle.
Batman gunned it.
“You know what? I take it back. Keep bringing around the ready-made hostage. It makes things easier for me,” Poison Ivy said.
“We’re literally taking you to jail,” Robin said.
“This time.”
“You think just because I’m a kid, I’m not a threat?” Robin hissed. “You’ve got it backwards. I’m Batman’s kid, and he’s here to keep me from killing people.”
Ivy tried to scoff. But she didn’t look quite as unconvinced as she’d probably like to be.
They left Ivy on the roof of the police station and drove back home. It was mostly silent.
“Do you still want to kill Tony Zucco?” Batman asked.
They had caught him. Three months ago. He was rotting in Blackgate and would be for life. Batman and Robin had brought him in together.
“…No,” Robin said. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be alive, though. But…”
“I understand,” he said. “The no-killing rule isn’t… for other people. It’s for ourselves. The police would be after us more, but they’re after us now. We would be trusted less. By civilians. We need to be… hope. Not fascism.”
“What’s fascism?”
“Fascism is the political ideology of—”
The discussion of fascism continued for the remaining fifteen minutes’ drive to the Manor.
The two vigilantes typed up reports (Robin’s was very brief, but his grammar and spelling had improved leaps and bounds lately) and then hung up their suits. Alfred had been very firm about no masks upstairs. And frankly Alfred was the real authority in this house.
Bruce carried Dick upstairs and tucked him into bed. Dick would likely start protesting he was too old for that soon, when the trauma of his parents’ death wasn’t so fresh. For now, though, his bed still held a place for his stuffed elephant Zitka. Bruce pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Bruce?”
He looked at Dick attentively.
“Are you mad that I said I was your kid?”
“No,” he said. “You are my kid.” He hesitated. This was a sensitive issue, for Dick. For them both. God knows how keenly aware Bruce has been of how he treated Alfred since Dick’s fight at school. Bruce had told Dick when he first brought him home that he had no intention of trying to replace his real dad. Bruce was a placeholder. He was Dick’s guardian and foster parent, that was it. He had promised.
It hurt. It had hurt for a while. Instead of getting used to it, though, it progressively hurt worse.
“Unless—um, is that okay with you?” Bruce asked.
Dick snuggled deeper into bed. He didn’t look at Bruce. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to adopt you?”
“Maybe.”
Bruce nodded. He kissed Dick’s forehead again. “I love you.”
Press conferences were stressful and awful and involved dozens of people screaming questions at him all at once while flashing cameras went off. It was like a scene out of a nightmare. And so instead WE’s PR manager had convinced him to do a series of interviews all in one day with different reputable newspapers.
And even better, he got to play the rich entitled billionaire card and have all the reporters come out to his office instead of him having to go into their unfamiliar offices. It was as close to ideal as interactions with the press could get.
Of course, a truly ideal scenario would be never having to interact with any reporters ever. He wanted to keep them away from Dick especially for as long as possible. The press were circling vultures, always, just waiting for a chance to tear people apart for public entertainment.
They would never get near his family again.
But that meant Bruce had to make sure they didn’t try.
“Hi! Clark Kent, Daily Planet, junior reporter.” The man stuck out his hand. A flurry of activity hung around him like a cloud. His hair was a windblown mess and his face was flushed. His tie was crooked and a pencil fell out from behind his ear.
“Oh shucks! Uhhh—” Kent managed to look even more out of sorts while picking up the pencil. “I am so sorry about this, Mr. Wayne. Um, do you mind if I record our conversation?”
“No.” That was the expected response. It raised a red flag to say yes, unfortunately. Which meant Bruce had no room for error in saying the wrong thing. Awful.
“Great! How are you today?” Kent asked brightly.
“Fine,” Bruce narrowed his eyes.
“That’s great. Happy to hear it. I understand you’ve been doing press interviews for a reason. May I ask why?”
“Announce something.”
“I’m sorry?”
“To announce something,” he said. Louder.
“And what is it you would like to announce?”
“I’m adopting my son.”
“Sorry, who?”
Bruce glared at him. Kent cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “Who exactly is it that you’re adopting?”
“My son. My ward. Richard Grayson.”
“Great! And how long have you known this boy?”
“He’s been my ward since he was twelve. Eleven months now.”
“And what led to you taking him in?”
The reporter somehow managed to keep Bruce talking for forty-five minutes. He didn’t even have to press the secret button under his desk that would make his assistant rush in with a fake emergency. It was tolerable. Bruce found himself warming up as the interview went on, giving more details, longer sentences.
It was his fourth interview of the day, though, and he had two more after this. He couldn’t wait to hit the streets that night and engage in something non-awful. He needed a case, a really complicated case, so bad. The Lasso of Truth was proving untestable scientifically in many ways and was just becoming a source of frustration. Bruce hated magic. And Lex Luthor had a horrible benefit ball next week that Bruce had to go to for charity reasons. Apparently just writing a check wasn’t enough, he had to network and maintain good relationships.
Because some people stop giving to charity if they’re pissed off at who runs it. Another reason why evolving spoken language had been a bad idea.
“—It was a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Wayne. Dick sounds like a wonderful kid,” Kent finished.
“He is,” Bruce said curtly. He pressed the intercom out to his executive assistant’s desk. “Kiera, Mr. Kent is ready to be escorted out.” The smile on the reporter’s face faltered but didn’t drop.
Bruce quietly hoped he’d never agree to interview him again. The only thing more dangerous than a journalist was a journalist who got you to drop your guard.
Notes:
Next chapter it's Batman's turn to make a fool of himself
Chapter Text
“Barbara. I’ll give you $500,000 to stop being a vigilante,” Bruce said.
She laughed, then looked over at him. “Oh, you’re serious.”
He nodded.
She leaned back, steepling her fingers. “I could buy a new computer.”
How the fuck much did she think a computer cost, Bruce wanted to know. He nodded instead.
She took a good long minute to think. She was definitely trying to figure out a way to take the money and still operate, he knew. He waited.
“No,” she said eventually.
“Barbara,” he said. “This amount of money could send you to college.”
“I’m already halfway through my degree, first of all, and second of all, I have a full ride scholarship and my pick of schools.”
“It could buy you a house. A nice car. It could be the foundation of your future, Barbara.”
“I don’t want to be some housewife when I grow up.”
“This has nothing to do with your marital status.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bruce, you know what I’d really do with that amount of money?” she asked. “I’d build my own base with a computer rig even better than yours. I would have the tech of my dreams.”
“To operate as a vigilante with.”
“Yes,” she said. “What kind of person would I be if I gave this up?”
“A smart one.”
“I know what I’m doing and I won’t stop.”
You’re only sixteen, he thought. But he knew better than to say it.
He’d already made his plans for Batman at sixteen. Half of them, anyway, even as he told himself he wouldn’t do it.
It seemed ridiculous, then. Impossible.
But then Bruce went and made it possible.
“Dick,” he said. “$1,000,000.”
“No,” he said.
“You didn’t even consider it.”
“What would I even do with a million dollars, B?”
“Buy… toys. Video games. Snacks.”
“A million dollars worth of snacks?” he asked dryly. “Alfred doesn’t even let you bring junk food in the house and you have all the money in the world.”
That was true. Alfred was very strict about healthy eating.
“And I already have a Switch and all of the cool games, so.” He shrugged.
So this was why you weren’t supposed to spoil children. There were no incentives left.
Lex Luthor’s benefit ball was just as horrible as Bruce had imagined. The venue was tastefully modern and expensive, of course, but the food was just appetizers and the cash bar. All overly rich and wildly unhealthy, no doubt each handmade to perfection by master chefs. Ironically, it cost more to serve appetizers than full meals, because of the finicky, individualized nature of making them.
“Bruce! How wonderful of you to make it,” Lex greeted. “And you brought a child.”
“My son,” he said. Dick waved gleefully.
“How charming,” Lex said. “I’m afraid there won’t be many other children about for you to play with.”
“That’s okay. I can have fun all on my own.” Dick eyed the chandelier speculatively. Lex’s grin stiffened.
“Brucie!”
“Ollie!”
They embraced in a manly hug. “Hey! You brought a kid, too! See, Lexi, you were wrong.”
“Just Lex is fine.”
“Sure thing, Lexi. So where’d you pick this one up, Ollie? Consequences from your wild college days?”
“Ha! You know I didn’t go to college. I took Roy in from the local Diné reservation after his previous foster father passed.”
“My condolences,” Bruce said. His one allotted moment of seriousness. Dick was staring at Roy keenly. The other child was a few years older, lanky and red-haired. Scowling. Wearing a tattered baseball hat along with his tailored suit.
“Hi! I’m Dick!”
“What,” Roy said flatly.
“My name is Dick. Do you wanna be friends?”
“No?”
Oliver laughed fakely and clapped Roy on the shoulder. “Kids, right? You two go have fun.”
Roy glared at him but went off with Dick as instructed. Dick was practically skipping.
“Seems like taking in orphans is becoming quite a trend,” Lex said. “Skipping the whole diapers-and-crying phase of having an heir, huh?”
Bruce laughed. “Let someone else handle that part, am I right?”
Oliver looked like he was screaming with his eyes.
The conversation managed to last an entire half an hour more, horribly.
Five hours later, Bruce had kryptonite in his pocket. Lex’s laser grid reactivated milliseconds after he stepped past its range, the electronic lock lighting up green.
Those schematics he had seen… Luthor was planning something. He had prototypes of all sorts in his lab, of course, LexCorp was famous for their tech. Some harmless, some civilian, some weapons. It was nearly impossible to tell what was nefarious and what was simply routine inventions. Not without more time.
Bruce walked down the hall back towards the ballroom.
Batman never goes to Crime Alley. Well. He does.
Once a year.
The ever-infamous anniversary of Thomas and Martha Wayne’s death. The brutal double homicide that got the once up-and-coming Park Row neighborhood forever rebranded as Crime Alley.
No one goes out on the one night of the year that Batman descends upon Crime Alley.
Except for the most desperate.
Batman contemplates this as he watches a little child spinning around a tire iron lightning fast, working off the bolts on the Batmobile.
The child is small. Half Dick’s size, easily. He would be, what, six?
How desperate do you have to be to knowingly rob the Batman? To even be out on this one cursed night of the year at all, in the most dangerous part of the most dangerous city on this side of the globe?
He looked thin.
He was also about halfway done with the very last tire.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
The child leapt out of his skin, tire iron firm in his grip but now held like a baseball bat. “What’s it look like I’m doing, fucker?”
“You’re going to put those tires back.”
“Like hell I am.”
The kid swung the tire iron right at Batman’s crotch and took off running. Batman grunted, curled in on himself for just a moment, and pursued.
The child was small, and fast, and knew the Alley like the back of his hand. He gave an admirable chase. Lost Batman, even. But Batman didn’t lose his trail. And he wasn’t called the world’s greatest detective for nothing, sarcastic though that title may be.
He found the kid in a falling apart hovel of a room that had no door. There were heavy metal posters on the wall and stacks and stacks of cans around the room.
There were also, lo and behold, three tires.
Batman folded his arms.
The kid was sitting on a pile of bedding, smoking a cigarette. He glared up at him. “You followed me? You fucking creep. You want the tires so bad, you take ‘em.”
“You live here?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Where are your parents?”
“Why? You gonna report me to fuckin’ CPS?”
“If necessary, yes.”
“I’ll just run again. I’ve been in the system before. They can’t hold me. I won’t let ‘em.”
“Why?”
The child just looked at him witheringly.
“If not foster care, then at least boarding school. There are good ones. I can get you in.”
That made the kid hesitate. He fiddled with the frayed cuffs of his jacket. “A school?”
Batman nodded. “A school.”
Ma Gunn’s School For Boys had a stellar reputation. It had stunning success stories for rehabilitating disadvantaged young men. Faye Gunn herself was a kindly older woman with no children of her own, who only wanted to do some good in the world.
Three days after Batman dropped Jason off on her doorstep, the school was shut down. Turns out it was a crime ring the whole time.
Batman found Jason again, bruised to all hell and trying to stop a museum heist all on his own. Being personally dropped off at a crime school by the Batman had done him no favors. Everyone had immediately assumed he was a plant, and made their displeasure known viciously the second Batman was gone. On Ma Gunn’s instruction, no less.
Jason also turned out to be ten, not six. He was short and thin and small for his age, and the gauntness of his face made his eyes seem even bigger.
Batman took him directly to his own home this time. He was taking no chances.
Superman was on a rampage of destruction. He was wearing a strange metal helmet with a glowing red rock in the center.
LexCorp tech, Batman recognized.
The League was currently failing to rein him in, with Diana visiting her mother back on Themyscira and Hal off-planet. Captain Marvel was currently in juvenile detention for egging a cop car. That left J’onn and Barry as the League’s heavy hitters, with Dinah, Oliver, and Arthur also there.
And Aquaman was hungover.
J’onn was mostly levitating and pressing fingers to his temple while telling Superman to fight the helmet’s power. Flash kept trying to find new ways to rush Superman without him noticing, while also at the same time mitigating his destruction. It was not going well. Superman also had superspeed, in addition to heightened senses, and so the Flash couldn’t get close enough to rip the helmet off.
Plus Flash had tried to knock him down by running at the Kryptonian at Mach 2. He had ricocheted off him like a bouncing bullet and been flung into a nearby skyscraper, which now had a hole in it.
The Martian Manhunter didn’t appear to be making much progress in his psychic battle against a piece of technology. None of Oliver’s trick arrows could even so much as slow Superman down. Aquaman and Black Canary were having better success, being so near the coast and with Superman’s same enhanced senses making him hypersensitive to sonic attacks.
They were so uncoordinated, was the problem.
And they were almost in Gotham by now, so he had to intervene before they destroyed his city.
He set the Batwing to autopilot and stood from the cockpit. He strapped on the parachute and jumped.
Superman was boiling the sea around Gotham with single-minded focus. Aquaman was vengefully attempting to drown him, and various creatures of the sea were helping. Batman hit the bridge running and loosed three batarangs in quick succession.
Superman—slowly—turned to look at him.
Aquaman took advantage of the opening to lunge at him. Canary screamed from the opposite angle, and Superman shuddered, crouching down and covering his ears. They were bleeding. As were everyone else’s present.
Instances like this were why Batman had ear plugs in under the cowl.
Superman shrugged Aquaman and Black Canary off like they were bothersome flies. Manhunter was still speaking to him, as if there was any hope of getting through. Perhaps there was. But Batman wouldn’t rely on it.
Batman cleared his mind and projected his thoughts as clearly and loudly as he could toward the Martian. Give up, he thought. Keep speaking, however. Connect me to the rest of the team, save Superman. I have a plan.
J’onn, to his credit, gave no outward sign of any change. But between one moment and the next, Batman could feel the presence of five other minds linked to his own.
He grappled away to the building the Flash had crashed into while J’onn explained the situation to his colleagues. He found Barry Allen lying prone in a pile of broken glass and wood in a since-evacuated office floor. He flipped open a pouch on his utility belt and pulled out every lollipop he had.
He kicked the Flash (lightly) to get him to open his eyes. “Eat,” he said. “Get your blood sugar up.”
Justice League, this is Batman, he thought into the mental link. The Flash will now be able to return to the fight. He is going to relay some Kryptonite to Green Arrow. Green Arrow, you will shoot Superman with it. At that exact moment, Black Canary will scream to disorient him. Flash will zip in to get the helmet off him while he’s down.
Where the hell are we supposed to get Kryptonite? Black Canary asked.
I’m not gonna shoot Supes, Green Arrow protested.
Non-lethally. He’ll heal, Batman thought. And I have Kryptonite.
The League did not take that information well. During the 90 seconds of arguing, Barry managed to polish off ten more suckers. Batman unclipped some Kryptonite and quick-drying adhesive from his utility belt to hand to him.
On my word, he thought, and that finally cut through the arguing. Go.
Barry ran. Oliver swore and drew an arrow.
Superman was down within ten seconds.
Aquaman crushed the helmet to pieces. Batman grappled back down to the street level of the bridge. He plucked out the glowing red rock and locked it away safely in the lead containment case he kept for Kryptonite. He would examine it further back at the Batcave.
Speaking of Kryptonite.
He walked over to where the group was fawning over Superman and took the offending arrow, snapping it in half to put the arrowhead in the lead case.
“We can’t let you keep that,” Black Canary said.
He paused. “Do you have a safe method of storing it?”
Dead silence.
“Do you know how to store it?”
More silence.
Batman packed the Kryptonite away.
“You have proven yourself a valuable ally, Batman,” the Martian Manhunter said. “I would appreciate the opportunity to fight at your side again in the future.”
The group seemingly held their breath. Batman didn’t sigh.
Their little assignment from Waller.
He could control their actions and movements directly if he was one of them, however. He could prevent things like the near-disaster they caused today.
It wouldn’t be micromanaging. It would simply be a more minute level of control and observation.
“Yes,” he said.
“You’re interested?” Green Arrow asked.
“I already said yes.”
He spun around with a snap of his cape and stalked away.
Notes:
I know I said I was going to embarrass Batman this chapter, but I'll be honest. I have absolutely no memory of whatever the fuck I was planning. I have new plans now though! And I wrote them down, so.
Chapter Text
Batman was the first to arrive in the main Hall of Justice conference room at twenty minutes early. He settled in to sit in silence.
Martian Manhunter was next. Then Superman. Black Canary and Green Arrow and Green Lantern. Wonder Woman. Captain Marvel. The Flash did not arrive before the meeting began. No one commented on it.
“Good morning, everyone. As you all know, today we are welcoming in our newest member: Batman! Batman, would you like to introduce yourself?” Black Canary asked.
What.
Fuck.
He panicked. “I’m Batman.”
Resounding silence.
Seconds ticked by interminably.
Black Canary eventually cleared her throat. “Is there anything else you would like to tell us?”
“No.”
“Great. Anyway, I’m Black Canary, this is my… partner, Green Arrow, and we operate out of Star City.”
“I’m human. Fully. Only one on the League,” Green Arrow said, pride shining through.
“No,” Batman said.
“What?” Superman asked.
“I am human as well,” he said. Looked to Green Arrow. “So you’re not the only one. Anymore.”
“Ah,” Green Arrow said. “Cool. Good to know.”
The Flash sped into a seat in a red blur and then sat alertly, as if he had been here the whole time. As if everyone in the room hadn’t both seen and heard him rush in.
Wonder Woman leaned forward on her elbows. “You fascinate me,” she said. “May I have your name?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
She grinned. “Then I suppose I shall have to earn it.”
“You can’t.”
“Oh, I can be quite persistent.”
“As can I.”
“Ooookay, that’s enough of that,” Green Lantern said. “So, Spooky, we need to know what all you can do. Up for a spar?”
Fighting Oliver Queen was a good test of his skills. His girlfriend was a better martial artist, of course, one of the best in the world, but Oliver himself wasn’t too bad either, despite his reliance on long-range combat techniques. Likely due to said very skilled girlfriend.
Their audience seemed suitably impressed as well. Black Canary was chewing on her thumb. Superman’s face was very red for some reason. Wonder Woman had a more critical eye, clearly gauging their mastery of the fighting forms they employed.
Batman spun out a kick to Green Arrow’s midsection, but he caught his leg and twisted it, forcing Batman down to the mat. He sprung backwards and this time the double kick landed, sending Arrow back a step with an oof. The other man recovered quick and swung a left hook. Batman dodged, caught the fist, and yanked Arrow in close for a string of rapid hits to his gut.
Arrow headbutted him, sending Batman reeling. He still had the cowl on whereas Arrow was in a soft green hood. Only one of them walked away from that move bleeding, and it wasn’t Batman.
He kicked off the wall for greater height and jumped Arrow, wrapping his leg around the man’s throat and sending them both toppling to the floor. He rested his weight above him, and Arrow slapped the mat repeatedly. Batman moved off gracefully and held out a hand to the other man, who took it and pulled himself up.
Superman’s face was very red.
“Damn,” Arrow huffed out a laugh. “You got me good. Alright, Bats, looks like you’re in the right place after all.”
“Hn.”
Wonder Woman stepped forward, her eyes no less calculating but now with an anticipatory gleam. “I call next.”
Superman made a small sound.
Batman dropped into a ready stance.
Diana struck.
Batman lost four out of five rounds against Diana (winning the first purely by the element of surprise and tenacity) before the Martian Manhunter suggested that it was getting late and they all had other duties to attend to. The meeting was officially adjourned, the heroes dismissed.
Batman became Bruce Wayne while switching vehicles in an abandoned factory in Connecticut. The Batmobile was set to autopilot to bring itself home along a discreet, convoluted path.
The drive was long, and by the time he was back in Jersey, he wanted nothing so much as to crawl into bed and sleep for a few hours before dinner, cave work, then patrol.
Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.
Dick tackled him to the ground at the exact moment a knife embedded itself in the wall right where his head had been. Bruce hurriedly rolled them to cover his son from further attacks. He keep them moving even as a second knife found its way into his back. He shoved Dick behind the car and took cover himself around on of the marble pillars of the porch.
He measured his breaths and slipped a makeup compact out of his pocket, flipping the mirror to see around the pillar without exposing himself. Fuck, the knife hurt. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming.
Hot blood poured down his back, down his leg. The wound itself pulsed icy cold for a second before going back to blaring heat. He could feel the throb of his heart too loudly. Breathing was hard.
Punctured lung for sure. Likely rib fracture as well. Significant blood loss. He needed to end this now and get medical attention.
Where was the assassin?
There. Slight movement in the hedges that lined the drive. Just before the loop around the fountain at the front of the house. Fifty feet.
They had a strong arm. And a keen eye. Bruce couldn’t underestimate them; he wouldn’t survive it. Or worse, Dick wouldn’t survive it.
Fuck, it was a Saturday. Jason and Alfred were in the house too. Hopefully still alive.
It occurred to him there may be more than one assassin. That they may have been here for hours already, biding their time and waiting for Bruce to come back.
He breathed through the pain. Counted his breaths. Pressed the panic button on his watch that would set off every alarm in the cave and light up his family’s watches.
He had no weapons on him. Why would he? Bruce Wayne, airheaded philanthropist and outspoken gun control advocate, would never be seen carrying a weapon, and certainly not in his own home around his two young children.
Think. Think. He was Batman for a reason. He was supposed to be resourceful.
He shoved Dick behind a pillar and lashed out at the attacker. Small, all black clothing. Grab their arm and snap it. They kicked him in the shin, uppercut slamming into his chin at the same time.
They were so small.
Big eyes looked up at him, and oh.
That was a child. Her was fighting a child.
He had broken a child’s arm.
Bruce understandably wasn’t prepared for the flying kick to his temple. He staggered but stayed upright.
“Dick!” he yelled. Dick was already running towards him. He drew the assassin’s attention with a jab at their kidney, and the smaller kid whirled to fight him.
Which gave Bruce the opening to smother them from behind in a safety hold.
The kid struggled the entire way down to the cave. They passed Jason and Alfred in the tearoom, and Jason bolted out of his seat.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Assassin,” Bruce grunted. He was grateful for his strength training. Children this age were not meant to be carried this far. Especially while struggling.
“You have a knife in your back!”
He had almost forgotten. He grunted in acknowledgement. It was about as verbal as he was capable of being at the moment.
“Master Bruce, I do hope you have a plan here,” Alfred said. Dick pulled open the door to his study and ran over to reset the clock.
Obviously Bruce didn’t have a plan. Stupid of him. He should have expected assassins to attack him in his civilian life. The League knew his identity, after all.
He gently threw the tiny assassin into a containment cell and pressed the button to lock it. The door was shut by the time the kid had raced over to it. They pressed small, gauntleted hands against the glass.
Not actually glass, but they have agreed to call it “glass” in the interest of efficiency.
“Is this a kidnapping?” Jason asked.
“It’s an arrest.” Bruce sat down carefully on a med cot. It wasn’t worse than the stairs, at least.
Alfred scrubbed his hands. Blue nitrile gloves laid waiting by the sink.
“You can’t arrest people. You aren’t a cop,” Jason said.
“It’s a citizens’ arrest,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.
“So we’re taking them to the police then?” Jason asked.
“No,” Bruce said. “They are too dangerous. They’ll stay here for the time being.”
“So it’s not a citizens’ arrest. We’re just keeping a kid locked in a cell in our underground dungeon without telling anybody,” Jason said. “How is that not a kidnapping?”
“It just isn’t,” Dick said. “We’re the good guys, and they started it.”
“But what about—”
The anesthesia drowned out the rest of Jason’s ethical concerns. Bruce drifted away on clouds.
The child removed her mask to eat and drink, eventually.
Bruce decided to name his new daughter Cassandra.
They acclimated her to being out of the cell slowly. First they tried speaking to her over the intercoms. Then they tried opening the cell and letting her have some supervised time in the cave. She didn’t talk to them, but she wasn’t violent either. If anything, she seemed to be expecting violence from them but not willing to dole any out herself.
Her eyes had grown positively huge when Alfred put the cast on her arm. Bruce had almost thought she’d cry when he let her pick out the color of it.
She, unfortunately, seemed to have no concept of modesty, which only served to reveal just how covered in scars she was.
She still wouldn’t tell them who had done this to her, no matter how or who asked.
Within a week, Bruce thought it would be safe enough to allow her upstairs in the manor. Cass was gentle. Blunt and inconsiderate (quite a feat with no words, but she managed), but gentle.
He took her to visit Leslie, who estimated that his new daughter was around 8-11 years old, had stunted growth, extremely abnormal neurolinguistic development, and would likely never learn to talk.
Cass had to be shown how to eat a lollipop after her visit. The boys were happy to demonstrate, and laughed goodnaturedly when she jolted at the first taste of sugar.
Alfred gave her chocolate cake with ice cream that night. Cass made a huge mess.
She smiled. Beamed. It was the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever seen, and he ruffled her hair in response. Cass leaned into the touch. Once she had accepted they wouldn’t hurt her, she had become the cuddliest child Bruce had ever met, and he was also raising Dick.
It made him… happy.
He had never thought he would grow up to be happy. He had never thought he would have a family of his own. He had never pictured an adulthood for himself that didn’t involve despair. The sky was blue, the Earth was round, and Bruce Wayne was alone. An unchangeable fact of the universe.
He had never pictured a family, a large family, sitting around the dinner table and teasing each other. Even Alfred had been enticed to join after Cass kept following him away. Dick eagerly listing all of the foods and games he needed to introduce Cass to, Jason arguing against some and for others. Alfred insisting he was quite full and giving Cass the rest of his dessert. Cass hugging him, Bruce’s surrogate father, her… her grandfather.
Yes. Bruce was happy.
Notes:
VOTE: should jason die in this fic lol
Chapter 7: The Teen Titans
Notes:
Look upon my chapter of darkness, ye mighty, and weep
Not thrilled with this one but super psyched for the next chapter, which I've been waiting to write for a while!
We're officially in the JLI era, AKA the darkest period of Bruce Wayne's life
Chapter Text
The thing was.
Arthur was reconnecting with his people and his culture, and that included his father, King Atlan, who had apparently went and taken in a banished prince named Garth. Garth had been born with the ancient Idyllist mark of power. Superstition held that he could one day raise an army of the undead and turn Shayeris into a dystopian necropolis.
Not taking any chances, the people of Shayeris left him to suffocate.
The old king of Atlantis took mercy on him.
So now Aquaman suddenly had a younger brother, who was going by Aqualad. The kid hung off his every word.
Then there was Wonder Girl. Absolutely no one was quite clear on how she came to be. Every person asked had a different answer. But Wonder Woman called her her beloved sister, and she had followed her into the World of Man in order to fight alongside her for peace.
The kids had no contact with each other, all sticking to their respective mentors, until Kid Flash happened.
Apparently Barry Allen had learned precisely nothing about safe laboratory protocols from his own accident, because just two years later, his nephew got in the exact same accident. Bruce blamed him fully.
He was lucky the kid lived.
They were all lucky.
And Kid Flash was ecstatic beyond belief to run alongside the Flash, even not knowing his mentor’s identity. Flash protected him fiercely. Kept him out of the truly bad stuff. He was a responsible mentor. The best a kid could ask for.
It all came crumbling down when Kid Flash confessed he was being abused.
An emergency Justice League meeting was called.
The Flash was pacing too fast to be visibly tracked. He was just an orangish blur running a path in the conference room.
“I want to kill him,” he said, voice reverberating. He had never seemed less human.
This was why Batman joined the League.
“No,” he said. “We’ll find an alternate solution.”
Flash keened. “The cops never noticed! I’m—I should have—”
Yes, he should have, Batman privately thought. Forensic technician or not, he should have cultivated his detective skills.
“I’m down for killing him,” Green Lantern said darkly.
That’s right, Bruce thought. He and the Flash were close. Very close. He likely knew the kid personally.
Their lives were all so tied together. The entire League could go down with a sufficient inciting incident.
“I’m sure there’s a less violent solution,” Superman said. Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow.
Beheadings live on TV. In the middle of the street. That was how Batman had first heard of her. She wasn’t afraid to kill if she felt the cause was justified. If she didn’t see an alternative.
He had to present an alternative.
“Would that be best for the child?” he asked.
Flash stopped pacing. He vibrated in place in front of him, lightning dripping off him. “What does that mean?!”
“If the entire Justice League descends on one child abuser, people will ask why,” he explained. “It will compromise Kid Flash’s identity. We can’t go after him.”
“Fuck that,” Green Lantern said. “I’ll do it myself. No need to get anyone else involved.”
“Yes, because Green Lantern’s personal attention is so much more discreet,” Black Canary said. “Batman is right. We need to do this quietly.”
“That is not what I was saying,” Batman said. “There are alternatives to murder.”
Flash was pacing again. He created a nice breeze, at least.
“What’s your miracle solution, then?” Green Arrow asked. “Don’t tell me it’s the cops.”
“Police have their function occasionally,” he said. “But we could eliminate Rudolf West without ever laying a hand on him.”
Flash froze, again. “…I never said his name,” he said. “How do you know who Kid Flash’s dad is, Batman?”
Shit.
Yet another reason why he should speak as little as humanly possible.
“I deduced it,” he admitted.
“And what all else have you deduced?” Black Canary asked.
“The solutions to many cases,” he said.
“Bats.”
“I believe Black Canary was inquiring whether you knew the other child sidekicks’ identities,” Wonder Woman said.
“Not all of them.”
“Who?”
“…All except Wonder Girl.”
“Why the fuck were you investigating the kids?” Green Arrow asked.
“I wasn’t,” he said. “I found out their identities incidentally through a separate investigation.”
“What investigation?” Flash asked.
Batman looked at the blur where his face should be. “The identities of the Justice League.”
Everyone had something to say about that. All negative.
“Do you know who we are?” Arthur asked.
What to say.
On the one hand, they would not like the truth, and hiding the truth was generally beneficial in this line of business. On the other hand, they already knew he knew Kid Flash’s identity, which blew Barry’s by association. Anyone who thought about it would figure he knew others.
“Batman,” Diana said.
“I do,” he said.
It set them off into further yelling.
“Are you a telepath?” J’onn asked.
Batman just glared at him. He had already explained that he was fully human. He shouldn’t need to repeat himself.
“How did you figure that out for everybody?” Green Lantern asked.
“No. Not how, why,” Green Arrow said. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, glaring suspiciously. “Why were our identities a priority for you?”
“That should be self-evident,” he said. “The Justice League is the most powerful military force on Earth. You need checks and balances.”
“And you plan on being those checks, huh?” Green Arrow asked.
“Someone has to be.”
“We’re getting off topic,” Superman said. “Batman, you’re way out of line. Our identities are a private matter that you should have waited for us to reveal. Now what’s your solution to dealing with Kid Flash’s dad?”
Three days later, Rudy and Mary West had fled the country, nowhere to be seen. Something about a cult, neighbors whispered, but surely they must have meant the mob.
They had left in the middle of the day. While their teenage son was still in school. Wally West, upon arriving home alone and seeing no parents, hadn’t reacted at first. He had called his Aunt Iris, of course, and her fiancé Barry. They invited him to come over to their place. Just to be safe.
Wally stayed the night, went to school the next morning, went home afterwards. Still no parents. That was when they reported the West parents missing.
Just like that, Wally was smoothly transitioned into his aunt’s care.
The older West couple were never seen again. They never stayed in one place for more than six months. They spent the rest of their lives on the run, in fear, never knowing when the blow would land. Only certain that one day, it would.
The Teen Titans formed quickly afterwards.
Robin was the youngest member of the team.
Robin was the leader of the team.
Bruce was immeasurably proud. His little boy was only fourteen and already leading his own superhero team. And the Teen Titans were much more competent than the Justice League. They worked together as seamlessly as if they had been doing it all their lives. They were all friends, for one thing.
Dick had friends.
Barbara was shot.
Barbara was shot, as a civilian, Bruce had finally convinced her to retire but that wasn’t enough to take the target off her back, she was still the police commissioner’s daughter. She answered the door, and—
The Joker lured Batman and Gordon to Amusement Mile. Barbara was there, tied up, naked (why was she naked? Why had the Joker stripped her?).
And then the Joker shot her in the gut.
Paralysis. From the waist down. Paraplegia, likely lifelong. She was going to live.
She had a haunted look in her eyes now.
Batgirl would never fly again.
Jason ran away. To Ethiopia, to find his birth mother.
Bruce almost didn’t make it in time. He found Jason collapsed over his mother at the door. The locked door. His fingers were too broken to pick it.
He was shielding her. Bracing for the blast.
Bruce carried his son away, moving as gently and as fast as he could, vowing he would go back and pick up Sheila—
The building exploded.
Jason sobbed against his chest. His skin was lit with firelight.
Bruce could admit that he had become… clingy, in the past several months.
Barbara’s recovery was going well. As was Jason’s. Dick was wide-eyed with paranoia and overprotectiveness, these days. He was running a tight ship with the Titans.
He had been off-planet, during Jason’s accident. Had missed a phone call from him just before everything went down. Bruce figured a little bit of “obsessiveness” (“Mother-henning,” Jason muttered) was perhaps one of the more productive ways he could be processing things.
Barbara had become angry in her grief. Incandescent about her lack of autonomy, about how the whole thing, in the end, wasn’t even about her—the Joker had been trying to drive her father insane.
Four years as Batgirl. And the bullet that took her out was just collateral damage.
It was maddening.
She had thrown herself into studying computers. She was all but attached to the Batcomputer like a barnacle. The back of her wheelchair had a sleeve sewn on to hold her laptop. Last Bruce had heard, she was actually rigging the thing to work as a satellite so she would never be without signal again.
Jason, on the other hand, was sad.
“I wanted to be like Dick,” he confessed one night, after Bruce finished reading to him. Jason could no longer turn the pages of a book on his own. He was lucky his hands hadn’t needed amputation. There was almost no part of him that wasn’t covered in a cast or bandages. “Like… Robin II, or something. Bluejay. Whatever. I just… I wanted…”
He sniffled, tears escaping down his cheeks. Bruce brushed them away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been there sooner. I’m so sorry, Jay.”
“Not your fault,” he said. “’S mine.”
“No. No, it isn’t,” he said firmly. “You are not responsible for the choices other people made. Ever. The Joker’s actions, and Sheila’s actions, belong to them alone. Nobody else. We failed you, Jay.”
“Don’t lump yourself in with them!” Jason said hotly. “If I’m not responsible, then you aren’t either!”
“Jaylad,” he said softly. “I’m an adult. And your father. It’s my job to protect you.”
“You are not responsible for the choices other people make,” he parroted back.
Bruce huffed. He pressed a kiss to his Jaylad’s hair. “How about this: you don’t blame yourself, and I won’t blame myself either. How’s that sound?”
“Hm,” Jason said. “I suppose.”
Over the past several months, the Justice League had expanded. A new Green Lantern had been appointed—Guy Gardner, and Bruce hated him with a fiery passion. He was the most incompetent, unprofessional, insufferable, pathetic excuse for a hero that Batman had ever had the displeasure of meeting.
The feeling was incredibly mutual, needless to say.
Other new additions included Fire and Ice, who were connected at the hip. Fire was from Brazil, and Ice was from Norway. The Justice League of America became the Justice League International.
Diana had been thrilled.
“It is an honor to fight alongside fearsome female warriors such as yourselves! I confess I am gladdened to have more women in our Justice League. Tell me, how long have you two been married?” she asked.
Fire—Beatriz da Costa—blinked. “Oh, we’re not married. We’re both straight.”
“’Straight’ is another word for heterosexual. That means we both like men and only men,” Ice—Tora Olafsdotter—explained helpfully.
Diana’s brow furrowed. Black Canary clapped her on the shoulder. “I can explain more later.”
Bruce was not privy to said additional explanation. But. Wonder Woman was subdued, almost sad, in the days following. It was easy to forget how new she was to Man’s World, as she called it. She still sometimes experienced culture shock.
It certainly didn’t help that Ice had been sitting in Fire’s lap, playing with her hair, during the inciting conversation.
If nothing else, meeting Ice was good for Robin. He was thrilled that there was another Romani hero like him, and in the Justice League, too.
Another addition to the League was Blue Beetle II, Ted Kord, inventor and owner of Kord Industries. He was the hero of Palmera City and a brilliant technical mind. Though, he could stand to watch his mouth a bit better. Bruce saw a lot of similarities between himself and Ted.
Until Booster Gold joined the League and Bruce lost all respect for Blue Beetle.
Booster Gold was a hero for hire. He made heroism a career and himself a celebrity. He took endorsements. He filmed commercials. He livestreamed his battles, got distracted by the chat, and didn’t always win them. He would shout out products and companies that were sponsoring him while in the midst of getting his ass kicked.
Blue Beetle seemed to lose all his senses around him. Booster even got him to join his pyramid scheme.
Then Black Canary found the two of them in a utility closet together and dumped a bucket of water on them. The two idiots emerged dripping wet and half-clothed, to laughter and catcalls from the rest of the League.
Batman considered resigning.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
No, the worst part of Booster Gold’s existence was that Wayne Enterprises was sponsoring him.
Bruce had been backed into a goddamn corner. WE was the premier supersuit outfitter in the Western hemisphere. It just made sense to manufacture everyone’s gear in house. But Booster, of course, couldn’t keep quiet about that. And Bruce was not about to reveal his identity anytime soon.
So he was, indirectly, paying Michael Jon Carter to be annoying on the internet.
He was an influencer.
Bruce regretted every life choice that had led to this. He should have let STAR Labs be the League’s primary manufacturer. They could handle it, if it was on a small enough scale. There was no reason that Bruce had to be tortured with Booster Gold showing up in his civilian life for business meetings to discuss promotion deals.
And yet.
Dick’s Titans expanded too. A teenager in a horrific accident was saved with a Mother Box, and became Cyborg. A half-demon came into her powers, defeated her father’s attempt to take over the universe, and was dubbed Raven. The Doom Patrol’s foster child, Beast Boy, joined.
And an alien princess showed up and kissed Robin to absorb his knowledge of the English language.
Bruce did not freak out. He reacted incredibly calmly.
“How do we know she isn’t an assassin?” he asked.
Dick rolled his eyes. “Because she’s a hero? She saved my life? She saved a lot of our lives, actually, and a bunch of civilians, too.”
“She could be biding her time. Lulling you into a false sense of security.”
“Is this about the kiss?”
“Of course it’s about the kiss,” Jason chimed in. “He’s freaking out.”
“I am not freaking out. However. You are far too young to be kissing people, Dick.”
“Dad, I’m fifteen, chill out. It was literally just a kiss. It wasn’t even my first.”
His fork creaked in his hand. “What.”
Cass patted his forearm consolingly.
“Um. Babs? We dated, for like, six months? Before her accident?”
“I was not aware of this.”
“Clearly,” Jason said. He was smiling. How dare he.
“Oh my God, B, grow up. I’m not gonna be a little kid forever! Besides, your’re way behind the curve on this. You wanna worry about someone having their first kiss, worry about Jason and Cass.”
Cold fear gripped his heart like a vice.
Jason and Cass were practically toddlers.
“Asshole,” Jason hissed at his brother.
“Jason?” Bruce asked tightly.
“He has a crush on Eddie!” Dick said.
“Traitor! I do not!”
“Eddie the demon?” Bruce asked.
“Kid Devil,” Jason corrected. He was blushing furiously. “And I don’t have a crush on him! He’s just a friend.”
Bruce felt faint.
At least Cass would never betray him like this. His darling daughter.
Chapter 8: The Naked Time
Notes:
have fun!
Chapter Text
Hal and Guy returned from Psi 2000 with grim expressions. Hal scratched at his arm and moved to leave the zeta tube. Guy held up a hand, stopping him.
“We have to decontaminate first.”
“Right.”
The beams whirred around them. A beep, and they were done. The two Lanterns stepped out of the zeta tubes. Green uniforms swapped for civilian clothing in a wash of green light.
“Cafeteria?” Hal asked.
“Cafeteria,” Guy agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. The two of them both grabbed chicken sandwiches and a seat at a nearby table.
“…It’s a hero’s xiphos. An ancient Greek sword,” Diana said.
“What do you need a sword for?” Captain Marvel asked. “You’re already awesome!”
Diana smiled. “Thank you, Captain,” she said. “But a hero can never be too prepared.”
“You sound like Batman,” Guy said. Hal scratched at his hand.
“Hal, you agree with me, do you not?” Diana asked. He kept staring at his hand, scratching it, transfixed. “Hal?”
“You doing alright, pal?” Guy asked.
“Get off me!” he shouted. “You don’t rank me, and you don’t have bat ears, so just get off my ass!”
“What’s with him?” Marvel asked Guy, quietly.
“Nothing!” Hal slammed his chair back and stood up with a bang. The entire cafeteria quieted.
He laughed bitterly. “We’re all a bunch of hypocrites! Sticking our noses into something that we’ve got no business. What are we doing out here, anyway?!”
“Calm yourself, friend—”
Hal slapped Diana’s hand away from his shoulder.He shoved her backwards. Attempted to, anyway. Diana stood immovable, looking concerned for him more than anything.
Hal’s ramblings started getting less and less coherent. “Bring pain and trouble with us. Leave men and women stuck out on freezing planets until they die. What are we doing? What good do we accomplish, ever? All we do is bring and destruction everywhere we go.”
“Take it easy, Hal,” Guy said.
“If a man was supposed to fly, he’d have wings,” Hal said. “If he was supposed to be out in space, he wouldn’t need air to breathe! Wouldn’t need life support systems to keep him from freezing to death!”
“Hey, GL, you wanna put the knife down, maybe?” Marvel asked.
“We don’t belong here! We don’t belong. I don’t belong. Six people died down there. Why do I deserve to live?”
“What are you doing, Hal?” Guy asked.
“Friend Lantern,” Diana said. “Put the knife down.”
She rushed him, trying to grapple it away. Never let it be said that a Lantern lacked willpower, though. Hal threw up a defensive construct immediately, raising a shield barrier between himself and Diana. Guy dove at him from the other side, and the two Lanterns struggled, each trying to wrest away control of the knife.
They fell down, and—
Blood soaked through Hal’s shirt. The knife was sticking out of his stomach.
They kidnapped a doctor from the nearest hospital. Two, actually—a surgeon and a nurse.
Hal’s wounds were not that severe, thankfully. It was a shallow stab. They got the doctor to him in plenty of time.
Diana was shirtless, sweating, and armed.
She drew her xiphos on Fire and Ice. “Beware!”
The two women gaped.
Diana laughed. “You either leave this hall bloodied,” she said. “Or with my blood on your swords.”
“We don’t have swords?” Tora said.
Diana charged.
Bea and Tora ran for their lives.
Diana laughed joyously. “Cowards!” she called.
All the same, she went off in search of easier prey. Or at least someone who would fight her.
“Superman,” Black Canary said. “We have a problem.”
“Yeah? What is it?” he asked.
“Wonder Woman is chasing people through the halls with a sword,” she said. “Also, she’s topless, but that’s besides the point.”
“I… see,” he said. “What do you want me to do about that?”
“At least get the sword away from her? No one else is really equipped to deal with this.”
Captain Marvel could, he thought. But then, that was a dangerous idea. The Big Red Cheese was almost shockingly immature and childish. He may very well join her in the rampage.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said instead.
“Fascinating. A pattern is developing,” Batman said. “First—Green Lantern. Hidden personality traits being forced to the surface. Then Captain Marvel, with wish fulfillment fantasies. Now Wonder Woman, who at heart always desires a good fight.”
“Captain Marvel? What happened with Captain Marvel?” Superman asked.
“He’s been speaking and behaving erratically, as well as swaying while he walks.”
Superman sighed. “Guess I’ll look into that too.”
“It appears to have started when the Lanterns returned from Psi 2000. We should have every Leaguer who came in contact with them medically checked.”
“They went through decontamination,” Black Canary said.
“And yet,” Batman said.
Superman nodded. “It can’t hurt to be checked out, especially while we already have doctors here.”
The Watchtower rocked in orbit. Superman and Batman exchanged a look.
They both left the conference room with intent of going straight to the control room. The door slid open at their approach to reveal a half-naked Wonder Woman.
“At last!” she yelled.
“Diana, put that—” he tried shoving the sword out of his face, “—put that thing away.”
“For honor, Queen, and Themyscira!”
Diana absolutely did not put that thing away.
“Diana,” Black Canary said. She smiled. “Diana. Give me that—”
She started reaching for the sword and Wonder Woman fast as lightning grabbed her arm and yanked her flush to her side. “I’ll protect you, fair maiden!”
“Oh, I am not a maiden,” Black Canary said. She stomped on Wonder Woman’s foot, to no effect. Superman started creeping closer while Dinah struggled. Diana snapped her eyes to the new threat, and that was enough of a chance for Dinah to get away.
Superman flew at her and Batman rushed up from behind, executing a trapezius nerve pinch. Diana cried out and fell to the ground.
“I’d like you to teach me that sometime,” Superman said. He pressed the intercom button by the door. “This is Superman. I need medical in the conference room. Is anyone in or near the control room?”
“Oh, I am,” Captain Marvel said. “This is Captain Billy Batson of the USS Watchtower.”
“Marvel. Great! Um, thank you for trusting with your name, first of all. Secondly, do you know what’s wrong with the engine?”
“Nope! Don’t care either. Engines are boring. Now, attention all adults: this is your captain speaking, and I’d like double portions of ice cream for the entire League. And now! Your captain will render a classic hit song for your enjoyment. A duck walked up to a lemonade stand and he said to the man running the stand…”
“He’s cut off both helm and power,” Superman said.
“Then he shut the door behind himself and locked off the mechanism,” Batman said.
“Can’t you get to the auxiliary?”
“No. He’s hooked everything through the main panel in there. We need the plans for this bulkhead. The only way to get through that door is to cut through these wall circuits here.
“—the man said ‘No, we just sell lemonade
But it’s cold and it’s fresh, and it’s all homemade
Can I get you a glass?’
The duck said ‘I’ll pass’—”
Batman would, at this point, put the Watchtower on Alert Level 2. If the intercom was working and it was possible to do so.
“Attention, Justice League. This is Captain Billy. There will be a big sleepover party in the main rec room at 9:00 tonight—”
“He controls the main power panels. He can override any channel from down there,” Batman said. “Seventeen minutes left until we drop fully out of orbit, plummet through the atmosphere, and either burn up or crash into the Earth.”
“Thank you for the update,” Superman said tersely.
The ship rocked hard, knocking several heroes off their feet.
Superman’s phone rang. “Look, can you keep this thing level?” the kidnapped doctor said. “I’ve got Wonder Woman tranquilized and we’re running tests. So far there’s nothing unusual in her bloodstream, body functions seem normal, I think.”
“Marvel’s the immediate problem, doctor. Is there any way—anything you can do to snap him out of it?”
“Not until I get farther on these tests,” she said.
“This is Captain Billy. I have some additional orders. In the future, there will be no Justice League meetings during school hours. Or crisises! That doesn’t sound right. Is crisises a word? Anyway. Also! The cafeteria will start serving chicken nuggets immediately and always! That’s all. For now. Now, my dear coworkers, I will sing the Duck Song—one more time!”
“Please, not again,” Superman muttered.
Big Barda—the latest addition to the League—was holding up a paintbrush to stare at and laugh hysterically. She was literally gasping for breath.
“Barda, report to sickbay,” Batman ordered. She stumbled giddily down the hall.
LOVE MANKIND was painted in bright red on the wall. That explained Barda’s paintbrush, at least.
Someone was singing the fucking Duck Song. Not over the intercom, right around the corner.
“What’s going on here?” he barked.
“Batman, I’m trying to get to the conference room, but Beetle won’t let me by,” the Flash said.
“Beetle, stand aside,” he growled.
“Oh, uh, yes sir.” The man scrambled out of the way.
Batman continued on.
Not five seconds later, Blue Beetle was serenading the Flash with the Duck Song again. “Batman!”
“And now, League—One! More! Time!”
Aquaman was giggling in his chair at the conference table, spinning it around in circles.
“At least try to cut him off,” Superman said.
“If I could cut him off, don’t you think I would?” Batman snapped.
He kept at it with his laser, cutting steadily through the bulkhead.
Bruce was in an empty ready room. He sniffed. Composed himself.
He leaned back against the door heavily once it closed.
“I am in control of my emotions,” he said harshly. “Control of my emotions… I am Batman.”
He slapped himself.
“My duty,” he said. “My duty…”
He sat down in one of the chairs.
“My duty is to—to my—I am sorry.” He was speaking through tears at this point.
He had become infected. He was going to burn up in the atmosphere because he was a failure, like he deserved. No one would miss him and his kids would be better off.
His kids…
“Two… Two. Four. Six. Six times… Six times…” he broke down sobbing.
Superman found him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“My mother,” Bruce said. “I could never tell her I loved her.”
Superman stared at him. “We’ve got four minutes, maybe five.”
“My mother was a refined woman. I loved her. Why did I never tell her…”
“We’ve got to risk a full power start. The engines were shut off, no time to warm back up. Do you hear me?! We’ve got to risk a full power start!”
The alien grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, lightly.
“I respected my father. His code. I was ashamed of my mother’s emotionality—”
Superman slapped him. At nowhere near full strength, otherwise he’d be dead, obviously. But still. It stung.
“Kal,” he said. “When I feel friendship for you, I’m ashamed.”
“You’ve got to hear me!” Kal slapped him again, twice this time. Bruce caught his hand in his own.
“We need a formula! We’ve got to risk implosion.”
“It’s never been done. Understand, Kal. I’ve spent a whole lifetime, learning to hide my feelings.”
Kal slapped him again, and this time, Bruce hit back. He shook the pain out of his hand.
“We’ve got to risk implosion! It’s our only chance!”
“It’s never been done,” Bruce repeated. Couldn’t he see how inevitable all of their deaths were?
“Don’t tell me that! You’re our science guy! It’s a theory, it’s possible! We may go up in the biggest ball of fire since Krypton but we’ve got to take that one in ten thousand chance!”
Oh. Kal was infected too. He didn’t normally behave this way. The virus was making him angry.
“Kal…” he said. “There is an intermix formula. It’s never been tested. It’s a theoretical relationship between time and antimatter.”
The doctor jabbed them all with needles. They had extricated Marvel from the control center shortly before Batman broke down, crying about math.
They accidentally slingshotted themselves backwards in time by three days.
Which was apparently “perfect,” because it gave everyone a chance to confront Captain Marvel over the fact that he was a child.
“What?” Marvel laughed nervously. “I’m not a kid. Who told you that I’m a kid?”
“You did. When you got on the intercom,” Black Canary said. “You talked about adults as if you weren’t one and also about going to school. Not to mention the whole Duck Song debacle.”
Marvel opened his mouth to speak, but then said nothing.
“We’re going to transfer you to the Titans,” Green Arrow said.
“What?! No, you can’t do that.”
“Yes we can, son. You never should have been on the Justice League in the first place. That’s way too much pressure for a kid. I’m sorry that—”
“If you try to transfer me, I’ll go to the press and tell them everything.” Billy folded his arms.
Captain Marvel remained a member of the Justice League.
Chapter 9: Playing Chicken
Notes:
WARNING for mentions of slavery and suicide ideation. LMK if you think I should up the rating.
Chapter Text
“Director Waller,” Batman said, facing the viewscreen that filled one of the walls of the main conference room. Amanda Waller’s stern and severe face looked back at him, at the League standing at his back. “The Justice League International would like to inform you that we are hereby terminating our professional relationship with ARGUS.”
“Is that so?” she asked. “Do you intend to continue operating on US soil or within US airspace?”
“Yes.”
“I see. In that case, you will need to continue our professional relationship to one degree or another. We cannot allow an unsanctioned foreign militia to operate in America without some degree of oversight.”
“Perfectly understandable. Unfortunately, as part of our commitment to global neutrality, we cannot be tethered to any single nation’s government,” Batman said. “As such, we will cease operations within United States territories. Effective immediately.”
Waller paused for just a moment.
She recovered quickly. “Should I assume this includes your hometown operations as well? I had thought you caped crowd were fairly attached to your cities.”
“It’s all-encompassing. Just following the rules that you have set out for us.”
“This is a self-imposed restriction. I am not the one stopping you from operating.”
“I’m afraid you are. No other country has asked this of us. We simply cannot show favoritism to the US in this way. We have to put the world as a whole first.”
“Can I ask the reason for this sudden change of heart? You had no problem accepting American aid when the JLA first formed.”
“Things have changed. This isn’t the JLA anymore; it’s the JLI. And thanks to numerous donations from a diversified base, we do not require aid from the US government in any form. Not that we have ever received any in the first place,” he said. “This has always been a lopsided arrangement. It’s time we ended it.”
“I did not realize you were so unsatisfied with our terms. I wish you had brought these concerns to me sooner, Batman. What sort of support from ARGUS would you like to receive?”
“None. This operation is self-sustaining. We have no needs or wants that you can fulfill. Which is what makes this level of oversight so unnecessary,” he said. “Surely you can find a better use for government resources. All this time and taxpayer money spent reviewing our every move could go towards other things.”
“On the contrary. I believe the activities of an unchecked, unelected militia who answer to no one is of prime importance to the American people. I can think of no better use for our many resources.”
“Nevertheless,” Batman said. “They are unneeded and unwanted.”
Waller smiled. “Are you sure you want to play this game, Batman?”
“Very.”
“I shudder to think what could happen to Gotham in your absence.”
“As do I. Not to mention Metropolis, Star City, Fawcett, New York, even DC itself.”
“New York?”
“Yes. I’m afraid we and the Titans are a package deal. So many of us are professionally connected, you see. If there are legal issues with heroes operating in the US…”
“You are describing a vigilante boycott of an entire country. That doesn’t sound very neutral, Batman.”
He shrugged. “You’re forcing our hand, Director Waller.”
“That isn’t how I see it.”
“How you see it isn’t the most important thing, though, is it? We’ve arranged for a press conference immediately following this meeting. I imagine public opinion ranks fairly important for a bureaucrat such as yourself.”
She smiled again, even sharper than last time. “I am no pencil-pushing bureaucrat, Batman. You’ll find I’m not as easy to push around as your little Gotham mob bosses. I’m just saddened that the Justice League has chosen to abandon the American people in this way.”
“If only there were another choice.”
“If only. Tell you what. Why don’t we set up another meeting for the same day and time a week from now? We can chat then about how your little rebellion went, and what forms of oversight would be most beneficial for the future.”
“That sounds perfect,” Batman said. “If that’s all, Director Waller, then I’ll see you a week from now.”
“Great.”
The line clicked off.
“We’re seriously doing this?” Green Arrow asked.
Batman nodded. “We have to. You all saw the files on the Suicide Squad. ARGUS’s leash will only get tighter with time.”
“I can’t believe she would do that to people,” Captain Marvel said.
“Believe it. Vigilantism is inherently at odds with governmental control. We function outside the law for a reason.”
Green Arrow’s face darkened. Black Canary looped an arm around his waist.
“I don’t know if I can go a week without saving anyone in the US,” Superman said. “What if there’s an emergency?”
“Then let emergency services handle it. We have to do this. People may die. But people always die. We cannot allow the Justice League to stay under Waller’s thumb. The last thing we need is to become puppets of her agenda, or worse, the American military’s agenda.”
“I agree with Batman. This is an uncomfortable moral situation, but as a Green Martian who suffered under the tyranny of the White Martians, I will not allow myself to become a tool perpetrating that same oppression unto others,” J’onn said.
“I apologize for causing all this,” Wonder Woman said. “It is my fault that we have any connections to ARGUS in the first place. Had I not joined, the Justice League would be free and independent in its operations. There would be no need for a strike.”
“Oh my god, it is a strike, isn’t it?” the Flash asked. “We aren’t even getting paid but we’re on strike.”
“I need everyone to promise that they will not intervene in the US until this is resolved,” Batman said.
“Why?” Green Lantern asked. “You get that I answer to a higher authority than you, right? If something alien comes up, I don’t have a choice. I swore an oath. I have to intervene.”
“Could you go to a different planet for a while?” Black Canary asked. “The sector is a big place, right? Surely somewhere else could benefit from your attention. You could just… not be here.”
Green Lantern nodded. “That could work. Hopefully. Nobody send out any distress signals, okay? The less I know, the better.”
“I believe I will also leave the country for a time,” Wonder Woman said. Fire rubbed her back consolingly.
“That’s a good idea,” Superman said. “Everyone who can avoid the US, should. We are the Justice League International. Let’s live up to our name.”
Superman took the lead with speaking during the press conference. He had the most experience dealing with reporters, after all.
“People of Earth,” he addressed the crowd. “Thank you for coming out here and joining us today. Unfortunately, we have a sad announcement to make.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“The United States government, through its organization ARGUS led by Director Amanda Waller, has made it clear that we are no longer welcome to operate freely within US borders. Of course, we have great respect for the law and do not wish to tread where we aren’t welcome. As such, the Justice League International is ceasing all activity within the United States effective immediately.”
“What does this mean for super cities?” someone in the crowd of reporters called out.
“Well, in compliance with Director Waller’s mandate, we will no longer be patrolling or operating at all within so-called super cities. We have complete faith in the abilities of our local emergency service providers to pick up the slack.”
“What brought this change on?” a reporter asked.
“Great question. As you all know, the Justice League has expanded greatly over the past three years since its founding. We have welcomed many new heroes into our ranks, and become a global defense force. In the spirit of impartiality, we cannot allow ourselves to have formal ties to any one earthly government. ARGUS, and Director Waller in particular, was demanding a level of surveillance over our international activities that was no longer appropriate. We will not be used as spies for the American government. Frankly, this is a step we should have taken long ago.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Superman nodded forlornly. “Unfortunately, we did not realize the extent of the degree Director Waller was taking advantage of our agreement. We trusted her. We wanted to cooperate with the ruling agencies of the country we were founded in, and which has so generously hosted us in our early years.”
“Does this mean you will be relocating your base abroad?”
“We already have, actually,” Superman said. “For the sake of peace, and in order to continue our work undisturbed, we have vacated American soil.”
“Where is the new base?”
“That’s classified.”
“You said earlier you didn’t know how badly Waller was taking advantage. What did you mean by that?”
Superman closed his eyes for a moment, solemn. He looked up at the crowd. “Director Amanda Waller has created a task force of modern-day slaves called the Suicide Squad. These individuals are criminals forced into black ops labor by Waller and controlled by bombs implanted in their necks.”
Bruce went home after that absolutely exhausting day and all but collapsed into his seat at the dining room table. His children were chattering amiably. Alfred served him up a plate and a cup of coffee. Bruce drank it gratefully.
“Bruce! I saw you on the news!” Jason said.
“Hmn.”
“I think Amanda Waller is evil. Are you guys really on strike?”
“Yes.”
“That’s cool.”
“What does that mean for the Titans?” Dick asked.
“It means don’t cross the picket line, Dickhead,” Jason said.
“Language.”
“Bruce. Seriously.”
“Ultimately, how you choose to lead your team is up to you, but I do caution you to consider how continued operations will look. You should know I also told Waller that the Titans and the Justice League were a package deal. She is under the impression that there is a full hero boycott of the US right now.”
“Except for like, the Doom Patrol. Right?” Jason asked.
“Nobody cares about the Doom Patrol,” Dick said.
“Be nice,” Bruce said.
“What about… me?” Cass asked slowly.
She had taken over for Babs as the new Batgirl three months after her mentor had been paralyzed. Bruce was insufferably proud. His little girl was the best fighter in the entire world. She was everything that Batman should be and more. Her morals were as solid as bedrock, unshakeable and immovable.
He did think she possibly needed therapy, however. Well. Barbara had said she did and Bruce was inclined to agree.
He should have thought of that on his own. Cassandra had been raised as not just an assassin, but a weapon. She had been dehumanized to an extreme degree. Of course she was deeply traumatized. Of course she needed professional help.
She was on medications now, too. She was doing a lot better. Smiling more. Laughing for the first time.
They hadn’t known she could do that.
Bruce had signed her up for a local ballet class and Alfred was homeschooling her. It was temporary. Cass had a transition plan in place to eventually settle her into a regular, integrated school with other kids her age.
“Cassandra. I know this will be hard, but I need you to not patrol for a little while. No more Batgirl,” Bruce said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because Amanda Waller is trying to blackmail all of us. This is just temporary, okay? Just a little while and then you can be Batgirl again.”
“People… need help. Now.”
“I know. I know. This will be hard. But this will save more lives in the long run. It’s just for a little while, okay? Other people will take care of Gotham while we take a break.”
“Every life matters,” Cass said, glaring. “I… can help. Have to.”
“No, sweetie. It’s not all on you. There are other people who can help.”
“I have to help,” she repeated.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Bruce said. “You can just exist. Just be Cass.”
“Batgirl. Not Cass.”
“Cassandra—”
She stood up from the table abruptly and fled the room. Bruce wavered.
“Give her time,” Dick said. “She just needs to calm down. Batgirl is her reason for living, you know.”
“I know,” he said. God, he wished it wasn’t. Maybe it was a mistake to let her take up a mask. The last thing Cassandra Wayne needed was another reason to distance herself from her humanity.
But on the other hand, he was fairly certain Batgirl was the only thing keeping her from killing herself. Cass had so much guilt. It was like Dick said. It was very painfully, blatantly obvious that Batgirl was her reason for living. She thought of the call sign as her real name. Even getting her to answer to Cassandra was like pulling teeth.
Well. It looks like Bruce will be closely monitoring her the entire duration of this strike.
“It’s okay, Mr. Wayne. I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” a previously unnoticed child said.
Bruce blinked.
He stared at the kid. He was young, younger than both Jason and Cass. Black hair in a bowl cut and piercing, ice blue eyes.
“How long have you been here?” Bruce asked.
“The whole time,” he said.
“Oh yeah, this is Tim. He lives here now,” Dick said.
Bruce buffered.
He had to be an adult here. “Dick, you can’t just kidnap a child. I’m sure Tim has parents who will miss him.”
“No, they’re in Peru right now on a dig. I spoofed a phone call from my mom’s number and had Babs pretend to be her to call me out of boarding school. No one knows where I am right now.”
Bruce took a moment to process… all that.
“Why,” he asked.
“Dick found me and said I could stay over yesterday. Is that not okay?”
“It’s—What do you mean Dick found you?”
“As Robin. I was taking photos. On a roof. He pulled me down and brought me here.”
Dick waved a forkful of mashed potatoes. “New little brother.”
“Dick, we can’t keep him. We have to return him.”
“Aw, but B, look at his big sad eyes,” Jason said. He squished Tim’s face up against his own, and the smaller child looked up at Bruce with a truly pitiful expression.
It was a compelling argument.
“He just wants to be loved,” Jason said.
“Tim,” Bruce said. “Is there… Something wrong, with how your parents have been treating you?”
“No,” he said. “But I don’t see why I can’t have a second secret family while they’re away. And they’re away a lot.”
Jason gave him a significant look. Dick wasn’t even paying attention, focused solely on his meal. As if this was of no consequence. As if the matter was already decided.
“Kidnapping is a crime,” Bruce said.
“It’s not kidnapping if he agreed to it,” Dick said.
Tim nodded earnestly.
Bruce tried to look stern. “You should not have revealed our secret identities.”
“That’s the best part!” Jason said. “We didn’t! Timmy already knew.”
Tim nodded. “I figured it all out when I was nine.”
“…We’ll come back to that. Dick, Jason. You cannot just abduct a child and declare him to be your brother. Cass would never do something like this.”
“Cass was in on it?” Dick said. “Cass loves Tim. You can ask her yourself.”
Great.
Bruce looked to Alfred helplessly. The old butler sniffed.
“One would think the World’s Greatest Detective would notice an extra child at his dinner table before discussing potentially classified matters,” he said. “But then, I suppose one would also expect a grown man to be capable of laundering his own clothing, and that, too, is beyond Master Bruce’s capabilities.”
His horrible evil sons snickered.
“I’m going to call your parents,” Bruce said to Tim.
Tim shrugged. “Okay.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Chapter 10: Family Vacation
Chapter Text
Bruce was not able to get in contact with the Drakes within the next twenty-four hours. So, reluctantly, he took him with them on their around-the-world family vacation. God knows it wasn’t safe to stay in Gotham, and Bruce couldn’t just leave the child unattended.
The kids were thrilled.
They went to Aruba and stopped a smuggling ring. They went to Paris to save a princess from being assassinated by Lady Shiva. They went to Nanda Parbat and fought a horde of ninjas as a family.
“Hey,” Jason-- Red Falcon-- said, panting after the fight. “Where’s Tim?”
Bruce looked around. As did Cass and Dick.
“Does anyone remember where they last saw Tim?” he asked.
“Aruba?” Dick said. Asked.
“No, he was definitely with us in Paris,” Jason said.
“The airport,” Cass said.
“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.
Cass nodded, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Alright. Does anyone remember anything else?”
The kids looked between each other. Dick shrugged.
They found Tim in the Catacombs. With another child, a slightly bigger boy in hospital scrubs.
“Tim,” Batman said.
“Hi, Batman!” Tim said cheerily. “This is Superboy.”
“Hi!” Superboy said.
“Superboy,” Batman said slowly. “Why are you called that?”
“I’m Superman’s clone!”
Bruce was screaming internally.
“I see,” he said. “Well, Tim, Superboy, I think we need to get the both of you home.”
“I don’t have a home, though,” Superboy said.
“Yeah, I just broke him out of Cadmus,” Tim said.
“You what?” Robin asked.
“Yeah, Robin Jr. rescued me.”
“Robin Jr.?” Bruce asked.
Superboy pointed to Tim.
“No,” Batman said.
“Well, I couldn’t just tell him my civilian name!” Tim lied.
“Alright. We’ll… talk about that later,” Batman said. “Let’s get out of here and back to the jet.”
Bruce called Clark the second Superboy was shut away inside his jet.
“Hello? Clark Kent speaking.”
“This is… Batman,” Bruce said, cringing.
“What?” Clark asked. “Is this a crank call?”
“First of all, no one says that anymore. Second of all, don’t you recognize my voice?”
“Yeah, okay, I believe you,” he said. He was clearly talking while walking. “What’s up?”
“You’ve been cloned.”
“You cloned me?!”
“No!” he said. “No, I didn’t clone you. Cadmus cloned you.”
“Why would Cadmus clone me?”
Bruce pulled the phone away from his face to stare at it. How was it possible for that to be a question? Why would someone clone Superman? Was he kidding?
“...Okay, I just heard it. Um. Where-- Is the clone with you? Are you okay?”
“I am fine. The clone is with me. He is also fine.”
“And…”
“Meet us at the Eiffel Tower.”
Superman got to the Eiffel Tower before they did, for obvious reasons.
They all met him at the top in costume. Tim had been given a spare domino. At first, the tourists had seemed to all assume that their family was simply into cosplay and having a fun time.
Then Superman flew up directly towards them.
Now they were all being given a wide berth and “discreetly” recorded.
Bruce put a hand on Superboy’s back. Superman did a double take.
“I… was expecting an adult,” he said.
“Negative,” Batman said. “This is Superboy.”
“Superboy,” he said. “I don’t know what to say.”
Superboy looked at him with big eyes. He was roughly Tim’s age, Bruce estimated, so about eleven? Cass and Jason were both twelve. Well, Cass was twelve on paper. Nobody actually knew how old she was.
Bruce could see Superman panicking in real time.
It occurred to him that he could have given the man more warning.
“Superboy will of course be coming home with me until something more permanent can be arranged,” he said quickly.
“That’s—” Clark started. “Very generous of you. It will take me some time to… get things around. But you! You’re great with kids. Temporarily!”
“Right.”
“Right,” Red Falcon said, drier than the Sahara. “Great talk, Superman.”
“Thanks, Red Falcon!” Clark said, oblivious.
So they continued on their family vacation, now with two random children tagging along.
They went to Kiev and fought KGBeast. They went to Hong Kong and Bruce had a conversation with Cass about race, and how she fit into that. They went to Managua and took on Intergang.
Then they went home.
It had been a week, after all.
Bruce had learned. He had called ahead to Alfred, this time. So when Bruce walked in, there was already a room prepared for Superboy. Bruce helped him get settled in while he placed another call to the Drakes.
No answer on their personal lines. Not for either Drake parent. Nor their landline, though that wasn’t surprising.
With low hopes, he dialed Drake Industries company line. He listened through all the options, pressed the appropriate buttons. Waited on hold for an operator.
“Hello, Drake Industries customer service, how may I help you today?” a pleasant voice said.
“Hi. This is Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises. I need to speak to Jack and Janet Drake. It’s important.”
“Oh! Mr. Wayne, what an honor sir! I’ll patch you through right away.”
Bruce blinked at that. Since when did the Drakes have cell service? He had thought they were completely uncontactable. Out of service rang.
They certainly hadn’t picked up to any of his other phone calls.
Though, he supposed he had been calling from an unknown number. Bruce dodged calls from anyone who wasn’t programmed as a contact into his phone, too. Phone calls were bad enough as is; unexpected ones were even worse.
“Mr. Wayne!” Jack Drake’s voice boomed over the phone. “Great to hear from you! What’s this about?”
“Tim,” he said.
“Uh. What about Tim?”
“Well, he’s in my house,” he started.
“Oh!” Jack said. “We’re so sorry about that, Mr. Wayne, we’ll have a talking to with him about appropriate boundaries. Can you put him on the phone right now, actually?”
“That’s not-- I just wanted to let you know where he was. Him being here is not a problem,” he said. “I know if it were one of my kids, I would want to know.”
“Right, of course. Can you put him on the phone?”
“Of course,” he said. He handed the phone down to Tim.
Tim took it carefully with both hands. Bruce stepped out of the room to give him some privacy.
An hour later, he knocked on the door to his study.
“Tim?” he said. “Are you alright in there? Are you still on the phone?”
Silence.
“I’m coming in now.”
More silence.
Bruce opened the door. The room was empty, and panic spiked in his chest. He performed a quick sweep.
Tim was curled up in a ball under his desk. Clutching Bruce’s cell phone and sniffling.
Bruce sat down cross-legged in front of him, pushing the chair out of the way. “Hi, Tim. Are you doing alright?”
“Here’s your phone back,” he said quietly, handing the device over.
“Thank you,” he said. “What did your dad say?”
“I got grounded.”
“What for?”
“For… lying to the school. And ditching school. And imposing on you.”
“You didn’t impose.”
Tim picked at his shoelaces. He untied the knot. Tightened the laces on that shoe and started retying it, with careful slowness.
“When are your parents coming back?” Bruce asked.
“August 26th,” he said. “Why?”
“...I thought it would be sooner.”
“Why?”
“Well. I suppose I didn’t have a reason. I just thought—”
They would want to see you.
“Nevermind,” he said. “When are you supposed to go back to boarding school?”
“Tomorrow,” Tim said. He started picking at his other shoe.
“Okay. I’ll drop you off.”
Tim’s lip wobbled.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Bruce asked.
“I wanna stay with you!”
Tim lurched forward out from under the desk, and Bruce caught him in a hug. Tim cried his little heart out. Bruce held him and rocked him there on the floor of the study.
Unfortunately, Bruce had no legal right to just keep Tim. So the next day-- to widespread protests and semi-hidden tears-- he dropped the kid off at Brentwood Academy. As a side effect, Superboy was no longer speaking to him and in fact seemed terrified of him.
“It’s because he thinks you’re gonna abandon him on the side of the road like you did Tim,” Dick said.
“I did not abandon Tim.”
“Yes you did.”
Bruce grimaced. He couldn’t really disagree with that.
Nevertheless, the world didn’t stop turning. Their week long strike was over. It was time to reckon with Waller.
He went up to the Watchtower.
He was fifteen minutes early. He wasn’t the first one there. By the ten minute ‘til mark, the conference room was filled.
Bruce pressed the button to connect the call. He stood up a the back of the table.
“Director Waller,” he greeted.
“Batman,” she said. “How’s Gotham?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said honestly. He hadn’t even had time to check the Batcomputer. He had received no updates, no intel, nothing.
“Well, I’ve heard terrible things,” Waller said. “The city is burning. There was an earthquake. The entire city has been cut off from the wider US. I hear they’re calling it No Man’s Land.”
Bruce grit his teeth. “Gotham is full of survivors. We-- They can handle anything.”
“Uh-huh. And Superman? Did you not hear the cries for help?”
Clark glared at her. “I won’t interfere with US operations. As agreed. I’m a man of my word, Director Waller.”
“Where is Green Lantern? Isn’t he supposed to defend the Earth?”
“There are other planets in this sector that he needs to attend to,” Batman said.
“Sure. And Wonder Woman. You, I’m the most surprised about. I thought you were serious about your position as Themyscira’s ambassador to the US.”
“I am. I take my duties very seriously,” Wonder Woman said. “I have not been neglecting them.”
“You truly believe that?”
“I do.”
“Very well. So, heroes, how has the past week treated you? Have you made a decision?”
“Our decision was final a week ago and we stand by it now,” Batman said. “Our question to you is whether you will allow us to operate on US soil. Or whether you want this detente to continue.”
Waller met his gaze head on.
“I have been authorized,” she said. “To offer you free reign to act as you see fit within United States borders.”
Bruce went to go find Clark. Everyone had dispersed after the meeting. Black Canary and Green Arrow went to go out and drink to celebrate. Fire and Ice and Booster and Beetle had both paired off separately, to go… do something. Barda had left to spend time with her husband.
Bruce had just gotten out of the lab with the Flash. They were working together on a chemical analysis of Fear Gas. It had been a very productive past several hours.
He headed to the gym. Clark and Diana had said they were heading down there to go train together.
He turned around the corner, and the two of them were floating in midair, clutching each other, kissing.
It was beautiful. They were beautiful.
Bruce cleared his throat. The two demigods split apart and landed heavily on the floor.
Clark was blushing, soft pink painting his upper cheeks. He was gorgeous. “Uhh, yes? Batman? What do you need?”
“Superboy,” he said. “He needs a name.”
“He doesn’t have a name?” Diana asked.
“I didn’t know that,” Clark said. “He’s just… Superboy?”
“The scientists also called him Experiment 13,” Bruce said.
Both of them grimaced at that.
“I…” Clark started. “I want to give this the thought it deserves. Take some time on it. Is that alright?”
“Of course. We can keep calling him Superboy in the meantime,” he said.
“Thank you. I’m looking for a bigger apartment. I have four tours scheduled in the next week. I’ll be ready to take him off your hands soon.”
“He’s no trouble. He’s a sweet kid.”
Or he was, when he was still speaking to Bruce.
“Alright. Thank you.” Clark smiled.
He was still holding Diana’s hand.
Bruce nodded. His throat felt tight. He turned out of the gym and walked away.
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