Chapter Text
The old warehouse was dark, except for the few rays of the moon creeping in through the hole in the ceiling. The rough winds made the metal creak, ominously, a large metal support unsteadily rocking right above a sizable crater in the ground, two bodies tangled in a heap right in the middle of it.
Clark's head hurt.
Clark's head hurt, and he was really dizzy. Clark never felt so dizzy before, and there was something heavy on top of him. Clark tried opening his eyes, but his vision swam and he whined, softly, blinking as the tiny spec of the moon slowly came into view, drifting in and out of dark, stormy clouds.
He opened his mouth to call for Ma, but his voice didn't come out properly, only a small, pathetic sound making it past his lips. The heavy thing on top of him stirred.
Clark's heart stuttered as he slowly took in his surroundings, a heap of strange black cloth on top of him rising, until a scary, split looking mask stared down at him, one of its eyes an eerie white, and the other one missing, a large crack going right through it. Behind it, he could see a pale blue eye staring at him, shadowed and unnerving and Clark hiccuped in fear before gathering all his strength and pushing at this monster with all his might.
The monster went easily, letting out a small little breathy sound as it rolled off him, and Clark crawled back, hands catching on the chipped and splintered floor as his eyes welled with tears, panic slowly rising. He was dizzy, still, although it seemed to be getting better, so he crawled all the way to the edge of the hole they were in, hands tangling in weird feeling fabric and instinctively trying to keep an eye on the monster.
But, instead of lunging at him, the monster stumbled, as it tried to stand, and Clark saw as a child's leg slipped out of a big black boot before tangling in a yellow belt, small, very childish hands trying and failing to catch it. And maybe… And maybe it wasn't a monster at all, because as Clark watched, transfixed, the kid - because it had to be a kid, he didn't seem to be older than Clark- face planted on the floor without making even a single noise.
Sniffling, Clark drew his knees to his chest, looking as the dark bundle shakily rose again, a thin leg stepping out of the remaining boot and over the strange yellow belt. In his own haste, Clark didn't even notice how he himself slipped out of one very red boot, the other, also very red and way too big, still clinging to his left leg in a bunch of fabric. It was smooth under his hands, and it seemed both familiar and unfamiliar, and he was also wearing really big, mismatched clothes but his were really bright red, yellow and blue. He didn't remember how he got here. He didn't remember, and he didn't know where Ma and Pa were, and all this seemed so scary and-
There was a loud, scary sound outside that made both Clark and the other kid flinch, Clark feeling as his own heart started rabbiting even faster in his throat and the other boy suddenly started shivering violently, and it seemed like it was a gunshot , and suddenly, there were the sounds of cars in the distance and Clark didn't feel safe but this felt so much worse and he couldn't breathe -
The other kid in the scary mask that was also too big for him darted to the side, as if to run, but stopped, breaths coming up just as short as Clark's did, and he was looking at Clark, something manic in his blue grey eye, and, before Clark knew it, the boy was suddenly dragging him up to his feet bodily. Clark could do nothing but stumble up, both of them awkwardly shuffling in the too big clothes as the boy dragged him out by the hand with surprising strength, and then they were up and out of the hole and running, straight into the darkness, as fast as they could, clutching at their large clothes that were threatening to slide off, and there were more sounds of vehicles coming out from the outside and then someone pounding on the door of the warehouse before the gunfire started again, Clark biting his lip bloody as he ran after the other kid in a blind panic, hand clutching his like a lifeline. They were ducking under pipes and weaving through strange looking containers, stumbling a little in the dark, and Clark didn't know where they were going, and the other boy didn't seem to know either, but somehow Clark knew that if whoever it was that was bursting into this warehouse had caught them, it would be over. It seemed that luck was on their side, because the boy suddenly tugged him harshly to a small, crooked looking open vent, and then Clark was all but shoved in there, all of his trailing red cape thrown haphazardly after him, and Clark moved, feeling the other boy crawl in behind him, the vent just barely small enough for the both of them to squeeze through.
The steadily rocking metal support beam had finally broken off from the rest of itself and landed on the ground with a loud crash, the startled men that had poured into the warehouse opening fire immediately, and Clark choked on his own scream at the sound, hand covering his head in the vent.
There were not so distant sounds of the men running, as the goons had surrounded the crater, peering into it and confirming that whoever they were looking for wasn't there. “Find them! They couldn't have gone far! I want their fucking heads on a platter!” The short, chubby man that was in charge had shouted, screeching voice echoing in the dingy warehouse, and Clark had to swallow back his tears and sniffles and continue to crawl through the narrow tunnel until the vent suddenly cut off, going upwards, so Clark had squeezed himself there, sliding himself right up against the wall and panting, the other kid soon joining him there, the dark, tight space small enough just for the two of them as they instinctively pressed close, small, hiccuping breaths muffled as Clark pressed his hands tightly to his mouth. The other kid might have been even more terrified than Clark, because he was shaking violently, the tremors going through Clark's form as he was pressed close, but the boy remained eerily silent. Seeking comfort, Clark scooted even closer as they waited, terrified out of their minds and crammed into the tight space, flinching at every word and shuffle of the men advancing towards their hiding place like small, scared animals.
Inside the warehouse, men with guns scattered around in their search, lights catching on the containers and walls, reflecting off of the rusted surfaces. Heavy boots thundered on the ground. There was no need for discretion; they had clearly come here to kill, guns pointed at any and all directions.
A light of a flashlight caught onto the surface of the vent, travelling inside, and Clark froze, scared that they were about to be discovered and killed, and then he'd realized that his cape was too bright and if the men looked, they would be spotted, so Clark started tugging at it hastily, trying not to make any sound and clutching his own teeth harshly enough to not let and of his out sobs out as the fabric caught onto something, but then there were trembling hands next to his, and they managed to tug Clark's cape close, and suddenly, the other boy was covering the both of them in his own thick black cape, Clark clumsily helping him with his task by trying to tuck the fabric around them more seamlessly and drawing his legs even closer to his own tiny body.
As someone approached their little hiding place, they had both had completely stopped breathing, and Clark tightly shut his eyes, heart beating too fast, and too loud and what if they found them-
He might have started crying, silent tears wetting his cheeks. He didn't know anymore. He didn't know and he swallowed it down, but at least there was a small warm shape pressed to his side and trembling beside him just like he was, and Clark didn't even know when they had started holding hands, or if they ever stopped and it was too dark anyway so they just sat there and tried to not breathe too loudly and listened.
Outside, a man crouched by the vent, pointing a gun in, his light catching on nothing but darkness as he looked, for a few long, agonizing moments. Eventually, he stood back up, dismissing the way too small vent as a hiding place, the thuds of heavy boots becoming smaller as he walked away, saying something on his walkie talkie. On the other side of the warehouse someone kicked open a container with a resounding screech.
Clark didn't know how much time had passed. At some point, he might have passed out from the lack of oxygen in his lungs and pure panic, but when he awoke with a jolt, they were still shrouded in darkness, that same, small warmth pressed to his side and a hand still trembling in his, and the pressure of the metal vent around them near suffocating.
Clark listened.
There were no more loud sounds outside. No shouts or footsteps, no screeching tires or creaking containers and gunshots. It was so quiet, unnervingly quiet. Clark felt a little less nauseous, though. He didn't know why, but he felt much better than he did before, even if a little weak. But he was still lost. He still didn't know what to do, and he wanted his Ma and Pa.
A hand squeezed his tighter, as if acknowledging that he was awake, and Clark tried squinting at the other boy in the near blackness.
They probably needed to get out. They needed to get out and- And talk to the police. The police would help, surely. The sheriff of Smallville was a nice man, and Pa talked to him sometimes, when they would bring the old truck into town; but this place, this big warehouse didn't look like any of the places in Smallville he remembered.
His hand, held in the other boy's tight grip, started hurting, so he let out a little pained sound, trying to tug it away, and the grip loosened, letting him go. Immediately, Clark felt the loss of that one point of contact, but he didn't try taking the other boy's hand again, suddenly nervous.
Clearing his throat, Clark tried speaking, the first words coming out a little jumbled as he whispered:
“Do you.. do you think they're gone?”
There was no response for a little while, before the other boy whispered back, so soft and so shaky that Clark had to strain to hear it:
“I don't know.”
For a few moments, the two of them just sat in silence, tensely listening for any disturbances outside.
“I'm Clark.” Clark suddenly whispered, a little louder than before. “And- and my family name is Kent. I'm from Smallville, Kansas.”
The boy didn't answer him immediately. Time stretched, Clark's eyes filling with bitter tears again, but he blinked them away.
“Bruce.” Came out a breathy little reply. “Bruce Wayne.”
“Hi, Bruce.” Clark said, because Ma and Pa had always taught him that it's good manners to say hello to new people, relief spreading through him at the other boy speaking.
“Hi.” Bruce whispered back.
He too seemed to have calmed down, just a little, because he wasn't shaking as much.
After some more time had passed with no scary sounds coming from the outside, the two decided to finally crawl out of the vent. Silently, Clark moved after Bruce, only just noticing how numb his limbs have become from sitting in the same position in the cramped space for so long and wincing at the pins and needles. Bruce paused for a really long time at the entrance to the vent, looking around, before finally crawling out, Clark slipping out of it right after. Anxiously, the two boys looked around some more at the ransacked warehouse. There didn't seem to be any men with guns left. As he stepped forward, Bruce winced, clutching at his leg and looking at the sole of his foot as if he'd stepped on something. It seemed painful, and Clark came closer as Bruce sat down, rubbing at his leg.
He almost stumbled, his own too big clothes sliding off his feet. They needed to do something about this before trying to find help. Next to Bruce, Clark sat down, fiddling with his long pants until he managed to wrap the fabric over his leg in an imitation of a shoe. Then, he proceeded to do the same with the other leg, smooth fabric not super easy to work with. Bruce just watched him as Clark completed his task, tightening other parts of his costume with knots where he could, smooth fabric kind of hard to work with. As the other boy caught on, he started trying to imitate Clark and wrap the strange fabric of his own suit over his legs. It didn't seem to be working as well for him as it did for Clark, so Clark scooted closer, and, with a “Here” started wrapping Bruce's legs up in the grey cloth. It was even harder to work with than his own had been, kind of hard and probably heavy, but they managed something doable, in the end.
Bruce fiddled with his cape, clearly uncomfortable with the length of it, as he insistently tugged on it, trying and failing to rip it off. And, when Clark tried that with his own, it didn't give as well. They probably needed something sharp for that. Luckily, they found some broken glass on the floor nearby, shards sharp in a way his Ma would never let him touch, and Bruce picked one up carefully, after covering his hand by the sleeve of his grey suit. It took them a real while to finally cut away Bruce's cape in particular, and they were both kind of tired after the whole ordeal, panting and sitting on the floor, Clark throwing away the glass shard he had picked up in an attempt to help.
At some point the boys stood up, movements a lot less obstructed, now, and slowly made their way through the warehouse, looking around cautiously. They stuck to the darker corners of the room, and even though Clark wasn't afraid of the dark anymore, he still felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he looked around, shadows seemingly stretching from every corner.
Now that they weren't panicking and trying to run and hide, Clark really looked at the other boy. He was shorter than Clark by a good few inches, and definitely a lot more thin and pale. With the mask still obscuring most of his face Clark couldn't exactly tell, but Bruce looked like a city kid through and through, his hands having felt soft and delicate when they were clasped in Clark's own. Clarks hands weren't much rougher, but he hoped they would be, soon, like his Pa’s were, because he was a good boy and helped a lot around the farm. Clark was honestly surprised that this scrawny kid even managed to haul him up to his feet when he did. But Bruce was already dragging his feet, a little, clearly exhausted from the day's events. And Clark wasn't sure if he'd rested when Clark himself fell unconscious for however long that was.
Slowly, they made their way to the crater in the floor where they first awoke. Clarks boots were gone, as was that yellow belt and the black boots the other boy stepped out of. But a big steel beam was lying there, in their place, the side of it peppered with bullets, and that alone had made Clark shudder. Catching up to Bruce, he gingerly reached out, taking his hand in his own again, the other boy not making a single sound of protest as they silently looked onto the crater.
____─ ·𖤓☾· ─____
Wearily looking around for any more of the bad men the kids slipped out of the busted front door of the warehouse. With the cloudy, dark sky it was hard to tell what time of day it was. But it was probably still night. There was no longer even a moon in the sky, the unusual darkness making Clark shudder. He already knew he wasn't in Smallville, and he didn't know how he got here. He just hoped that Ma and Pa weren't too worried, and that they were also okay, and the bad men didn't touch them, and maybe they were safe and looking for Clark with the police. He hoped this other boy's family was looking for him, too.
Thankfully, there were no bad guys waiting for them around the corner, so they quickly ran to the nearest alley, hiding under some precariously balanced wooden planks. The bad guys still didn't come, but the kids were a little too nervous to talk to each other out loud, even in whispers, now that they were out in the open, so, with a few exchanged looks, they decided to follow the way Bruce had reluctantly pointed.
The only buildings they passed were either very rundown or looked like they were used for storage, like that big warehouse, trash littering the narrow streets and grimy passageways. Clark never saw a place that looked so scary and desolate before, even in movies. He followed Bruce, who at least looked a little less scared by the sights of the unknown city.
There were no people on the streets. Clark didn't know if it was good or bad. On one hand, he knew he shouldn't talk to strangers, but they also needed to find an adult, someone who could call or maybe take them to the police.
As the two boys cautiously rounded another corner to what looked like a more livable part of the city, a single, occasionally blinking street lamp made relief flud Clark's veins. Light was good, and he could even see, in the distance, a taller building with a few of the windows lit up, looking like an apartment complex.
A clicking sound made the two of the boys freeze in their tracks, however, fear seizing their throats. Clark looked at Bruce for reassurance, before the both of them turned, a figure making its way hastily across the street. Clark almost felt like he could cry in relief as he spotted a woman hurrying to pass under the singular street lamp, and Clark was already stepping forward, out of the darkness, trying to summon his voice.
“M-miss….”
The woman froze in her tracks, just like the kids did, at first, clutching at her bag and looking the two small figures, eyes widening at the way they were both dressed.
Clark stepped forward again, words not coming out past the lump in his throat as he tried to ask her for help, nervousness and Ma and Pa's teaching rearing their head at the idea of talking to a stranger.
Suddenly, the woman looked to the side. She paled and turned on her heels, practically running back the way she came from.
“Wait!” Clark cried, stepping forward, then again, and again, until he was running after her, but the woman was really fast, and before he could ask for help the woman was already gone, Clark stopping to catch his breath once he got under a street lamp, small, running steps catching up to him, Bruce's breathing coming out in uneven puffs.
Clark wanted to cry. There was a tug at his rolled up sleeve and he turned to look at Bruce, but then, both of them froze again, a gruff voice cutting through the stillness of the night.
“Holy shit.”
A man.
A man in a black mask, with a gun strapped to his back and a lit cigarette halfway to his lips was looking at them in surprise, mouth hanging open, almost as if he didn't believe what he was seeing.
Clark's heart stopped.
The man quickly fumbled for something- For his gun- and they were already darting away and running, and running, and running -
Clark could barely hear the shouted curses and the heavy steps following after them as he flew after Bruce into the narrow alleyway, almost panicking at the sight of the fence, but Bruce was already scrambling to peel the slightly askew edge of it further, ducking under it, the harsh wires catching on his clothes as he slipped by and Clark was following, terrified, as they just ran, blindly, the scary man right on their heels.
Everything blurred.
Clark was panicking again, and they were both running, again making their way through the narrow, dark streets. At some point he must have overtaken Bruce in speed, because he now had to look behind him to see the blurry shape of the boy as they both ran.
And it was actually Bruce, who stumbled.
Right in front of Clark's eyes, as he turned again to see the other one following, the boy's legs seemed to finally give out, tripping over nothing, and the boy fell, harshly, small hands hitting the ground first as he tumbled.
“B-bruce!” Clark stopped, out of breath and turning back to the boy, helping him up, tears clouding his vision still as he frantically looked around for any place they could possibly hide in, eyes landing on the slightly askew, round lid of the sewer system.
Bruce made a tiny noise of pain, sounding like he was going to cry soon, and Clark quickly tried to drag the other boy to the sewer opening, their eyes meeting as Bruce caught onto his plan.
Letting go of Bruce with trembling hands Clark used all of his strength to pull the lid back some more, the metal dragging, but not enough so that it would be hard to grab it later. It was kind of heavy, and Clark was so, so tired.
He looked at Bruce, the boy clutching his scraped hands to his sides and looking out for any more scary men.
“Go.” Bruce whispered, hastily motioning for him to go first, and Clark gulped, lowering himself so he could clumsily catch onto the ladder. It wasn't long before Bruce climbed after him, trying to hastily pull the lid over with one scraped hand and Clark climbed back up a few steps to stand beside him, the two of them managing to pull the lid over the sewer hole somehow.
Clark almost slipped on his way down the ladder, Bruce actually slipping and falling right on top of him with a yelp, probably the loudest sound Clark had heard him make all night, the kids tumbling down in a puddle of cold, gross water and nearly falling off into the actual sewer stream that was running below the narrow walkway.
Bruce let out a choking sound. Then, a sniffle, and finally this seemed to have been his breaking point. Bruce scrambled off of him as fast as he could, pushing himself into a wall, his scary mask probably having slipped off his face as they fell to reveal a childish, pale face underneath, with black, ruffled hair and big teary blue eyes. His features looked delicate, almost like that of a doll, even as he was shaking and crying, wiping uselessly at his eyes. His cheeks were an angry red as he mumbled barely coherent apologies between the choked off sobs wracking his tiny body, and there was a cut on his forehead that looked big and painful, over the spot where the mask had split.
The sight made Clark choke up, and his arms and legs hurt, from the fall. In an instant, without even thinking, he lunged at the other boy, squeezing him in a tight hug. He was crying, too, now, clinging onto Bruce as tightly as he could, the sheer terror and stress of the day finally catching up to them, and Bruce let him, his own hands coming to clutch at Clark just as desperately as they rocked.
The screech of the tires above startled them out of their breakdown, and the kids immediately scrambled to their feet, guided by nothing but blind panic as they started running again, guided this time by Clark, aimlessly trying to get away and clutching onto each other like a lifeline.
Clark didn't know how long they had run for. At some point, they had to switch to walking, too out of breath as they exhausted the rest of their power, stumbling forward only on the need to get to a safer place. By that point, both of the kid's stomachs were rumbling loudly, legs hurting from running and their makeshift shoes.
Even the tears had dried up.
Clark felt really thirsty, too, stomach seizing painfully.
Something small skittered a few ways away from them with a high pitched sound and Bruce jumped, clinging to Clark tighter, Clark worrying at his own lip painfully in surprise.
Slowly, ever so slowly they made their way further into the tunnels, no longer sure where or why they were going.
Clark barely even remembered how they found a tiny hole on the side of the wall to curl up in, too exhausted to even keep walking, Clark putting himself closer to the exit protectively as they both fell asleep, still clinging to each other tightly.
____─ ·𖤓☾· ─____
The roar of the motorcycle heralded Jason's arrival to the cave. The man stretched his shoulders as he got off, walking up the stairs and throwing his red helmet carelessly on the table. A yawn escaped as he flopped gracelessly into the big bad Bat’s computer chair and peeled away his domino, ready for some solo investigating.
Mostly for dramatic effect, even though there was no one to see him other than the paranoid bastard’s million security cameras, Jason stretched out his arms as well, before hovering his fingers on the keys and logging into the Batcomputer under his ID, ready to work on his case files in peace. Every single person in the batfam secretly enjoyed this; the times when they got to be all alone in the cave, its equipment all to themselves. Hell, it felt a little bit like a power trip every time, operating in The Batman's space(even if it was theirs, too), and they were all the somewhat loner-y types, except maybe Dickface. And Bruce. Kind of. He was probably the most loner-y one of them all, but also that man clearly had an adoption problem, having gathered the most insufferable and unhinged little gaggle of Rugrats to occupy all his spaces.
It was nearly seven in the morning, and Jason had picked this specific time purposefully; even Bruce and Tim didn't usually work during this hour, conking in to be at least somewhat coherent for their day job.
Suckers.
Imagine having a day job.
But that was when Jason noticed it.
An alert.
His eyes ran over the flashing text briefly, before he jumped up, suddenly, the chair rolling away from the sheer force of it as Jason's frantic hands ran over the keyboard, a rush of adrenaline pumping into his veins, the deep, deep part of him that was still Robin, that still screamed about the Batman's safety making him panic.
The batsuit was damaged. The computer registered a crack in the cowl, videofeed for it no longer available, cutting off mid fight, and then there was another slew of notifications, way later, signifying that the belt's protective traps have been set off.
“Fuck!” Jason swore as the realized that the most vital trackers on the batsuit weren't responding, and that Bruce was missing, and he'd gone fucking missing hours ago-
Jason had never run up the stairs to the Manor so fucking fast.
____─ ·𖤓☾· ─____
“What do you mean father's missing?!” Damian screamed, all of the batkids and even Alfred having assembled in the cave, Barbara connected to them through the comms.
Tim was typing incessantly on the computer, tracking the last locations that the trackers had pinged, calculating the possible routes Batman had taken based on their location.
“We need to find him!” The youngest Wayne roared, pointing at their incased suits, as if it wasn't what they were already doing. The room was solemn with the weight of the time that had passed already, since Bruce's disappearance.
Dick's hand landed on Damian's shoulder, making the kid flinch and level his brother with a cold glare.
Dick tried to smile at him reassuringly. He was already here during vacation, which was fortunate, because Dick knew he would have hurried here immediately as soon as he heard the news, day job be damned.
“We will.” He said, in an effort to pacify. “We'll definitely find B, don't worry, Dami.”
The kid only made his signature ‘tt’ sound, turning away angrily, teeth grinding almost audibly. It was understandable that he was scared for his father, their father, even if he showed it by lashing out.
“B patrolled solo yesterday, didn't he?” Stephanie asked. She'd spent the night with Cass, in her room, both of them forgoing patrol to hang out and watch movies, something Bruce usually encouraged from his kids, even if the man was too stubborn to take his own advice and rest himself. Being a workaholic was maybe a requirement for this family.
Tim was busy with Wayne Industries work at the time, trying to secure them a big contract and speaking with people on the company phone, couped up in the study, so he hadn't even come down to the cave once, despite working late into the night. Too late, in fact, probably, as Bruce often checked in on him when he came back from patrol, ensuring that Tim actually slept, Alfred's pointed glare not working enough as a deterrent most days. Damian was busy with a school project and Dick had just gotten to the Manor which also served as a distraction for the both of them. And Duke was the only non-nocturnal vigilante in the family, so he'd fallen asleep at about ten, too exhausted from both school and his daily patrol. Even the ever vigilant Babs was busy, spending her evening with her dad and away from technology, the commissioner getting a rare, well deserved break. Alfred always had his hands full, so there were no surprises there, and Jason had simply kept busy in crime alley, and it's not like B even sent out a distress signal, otherwise the whole family would have known already.
Still, the weight of them not checking in on their father hung heavily in the air, irrational yet persistent. Of course something had to go wrong on the only night Bruce didn't have backup, the universe playing a cruel joke on them all.
“I suggest you put on the costumes.” Oracle said, a separate screen suddenly displaying a grainy video of a red blur appearing in some lab-like facility before the feed had caught off, black object flying towards the camera at the last seconds smeared, but unmistakable on the slowed down footage.
“Right, B and Superman were working on something together this week, weren't they?..” Duke breathed out, Cass nodding in acknowledgement.
It wasn't at all surprising. Everyone in the family knew Clark dropped by often, especially when Bruce was patrolling alone. They also occasionally worked cases together, outside of the JL business, even if Bruce was still prickly about that sort of thing despite years of close friendship and working with the man.
But it was concerning.
What force could possibly take both Batman and Superman out simultaneously?..
A chill went through the cave.
Alfred was frowning deeply, his usual stoic demeanor cracking.
“I'll call all of you out of school for the day.” The butler announced. Of course, there were no protests.
“Oh, Alfred, could you please also notify the W.E. office that B and I are not coming in today?” Tim absently added, before continuing his other train of thought. “Babs, the last location of the belt you sent me doesn't match the one from the vid.”
Their unofficial grandfather nodded with an “Of course, Master Timothy.” before promptly disappearing up the stairs.
“We'll split into three search teams, I can't find either Batman or Superman on any other video feeds in the city, yet my data from Metropolis suggests Clark hadn't returned to his apartment or the farm either. Nor are there any signs of him at Lois and Jeb’s place, or even the Daily Planet. I haven't detected any flight patterns that match his since yesterday evening, and all those are in bounds of Gotham.”
The vigilantes hurried to slip on their uniforms; everyone except Tim, who was too busy assisting Babs in her search for the moment.
“Dick, Dami, you're together, I'm sending you the coordinates of the lab from the footage.” Tim said, the vigilantes already hurrying away, Damian practically running.
“I just found footage of Superman flying, it's too slow so the satellite didn't ping it as him, I think. Jason, Duke, you're on that.” Babs relayed.
“Got it.” Jason saluted stiffly, the only one in his uniform already, so he went for his bike, grabbing the domino and the helmet on the way, Duke joining him in record speed, the batmobile already taking off with both Nightwing and Damian inside.
“Cass and Steph, you're going to follow the tracker on B’s belt, it went further than the other leads we have.” Tim relayed, both of the girls simply nodding before disappearing into the darkness of the cave, already on their way.
“I've got this, Tim. Go after them, they might need back up.” Babs’ voice sounded, and Tim paused in his frantic typing, jumping out of the seat and nodding, soon joining the girls as they hopped onto their own bikes.
The sounds of the engines sped away from the cave, Batcomputer blinking green as it was taken over by Oracle.
____─ ·𖤓☾· ─____
With the exception of Duke the Bats rarely operated in the light of day, but this morning, with the whole family mobilized, the comm line was incredibly busy, even if there was no usual lightheaded chatter or bantering to accompany it. Barbara's hands were flying on her keyboard, everything from news to the camera footage and gps signals blinking in and out on the different screens. A notification from Superboy flickered on her phone, the same lighting up on the big screen.
“I've managed to contact Kon-El, and he confirmed what we already know.” Barbara said. ”He also can't locate their heartbeats. He says he will be here shortly.”
“Keep him away.” Dick’s voice crackled through the line, unusually harsh. “If Superman is down then they definitely have something that can hurt him.”
Another notification popped up, the Super clearly listening in already. “He says he's still coming.” Barbara relayed. “Nightwing, Robin, he'll be at your location shortly.”
There was a frustrated noise coming from Damian on the comms. “He's here already.” The boy confirmed, grimly.
“We've scouted the location. Superboy says it is lined with lead, but it doesn't seem like there are any men left inside, we're coming in soon.” Nightwing's voice echoed.
As soon as he stopped speaking, Duke's voice crackled through the comms.
“We're here. Hood and I found a broken in warehouse. There are signs of gunfire. No men around. We're going in, too.”
“Good. Keep me updated. I'm looking through the news feeds and some encrypted channels, but so far I see no signs of them.” Oracle replied.
“We're on location.” Steph's voice came in, hushed. It was a sign in and of itself. “I think we found the perpetrators. Black Bat and Red Robin went around to scout for more possible dangers and entry routes. I'm keeping an eye on the entrance. There are a lot of men and they seem to be moving something. Might need back up.”
“Don't come in.” Barbara cut in, brows creasing in concern as she switched to another keyboard. “I'm hacking the nearby cameras. Going to try and see into the building.”
On her other screen, the damaged footage from the cowl was still being processed and recovered, progress bar slowly filling.
“Superboy here.” A new voice chimed, Kon probably receiving a spare communicator from Dick. “There's definitely kryptonite involved. I can still feel its traces. Staying back for now.”
“The place B and Supes raided is ransacked. It seems someone had to hastily move their operation, probably to your location, Spoiler. We found a few batarangs and signs of a struggle. I think they might have been transporting weapons, there are container marks on the floor and a few suspicious remnants in the empty boxes.” Nightwing added. “Something doesn't feel right.”
“Found a small chunk of Kryptonite.” Damian’s voice sounded. “These criminals were careless. I'm putting it in a container for safekeeping.”
“There doesn't seem to be anything else we can find here, but we'll take another look around before heading to you, spoiler.” Nightwing added for his little brother.
“I’ll take both of you there.” Kon's distant voice sounded, almost as if he didn't mean to speak into his communicator at the same time as Jason said:
“There's a hole in the roof and more signs of bullet fire. Supes and B must have crashed here, after whatever happened in the lab. Crater in the floor, too. The place is ransacked.”
Barbara frowned, pulling up satellite imagery on Jason's location.
“I- I found their capes.” Duke's voice was laced with worry as he uttered that, Jason letting out a quiet curse through his line. “They look to be cut off. I'll try to see if I can trace something.”
The picture wasn't clear yet. It seemed like Batman and Superman had been taken, but the gunfire suggested that the people behind this wanted them dead. For a few moments, the comms were eerily quiet, people taking in the new development.
There was a sound of quiet tapping that Cass sometimes did when she was too overwhelmed to speak through the comms. Then, a whooshing sound.
“Black Bat went in through the roof.” Red Robin relayed, Barbara's attention snapping back to their location. “She's just scouting, I think, and I see Superboy, Red Robin and Nightwing approaching already.”
“We're here.” Nightwing confirmed. “Going after Black Bat soon. We left the Batmobile at the other location. Superboy, you should stay back.”
There was a sound of a muffled protest on his end of the line, definitely Kon's. Barbara could still hear them quietly discussing the plan, Cass sending out another silent signal to them all that the way was clear.
“I shall take over the Batmobile.” Agent A’s voice came through the line at the cave, soothing all the kids’ worry, a little. Alfred's quiet, but powerful presence tended to have that effect on people.”Things on my end were resolved.”
“Good, thank you, agent A.” Babs said, sighing. A few more thank yous sounded through the comms.
“Fuck, I'm going to join the others. Signal, meet me at the entrance.” Jason growled, agitation clear in his voice, and Barbara was going to cut in, again, but then Duke's quiet voice sounded through the comm lines, cutting everyone off without meaning to.
“Oh. Oh no.”
Spoiler was the first one to recover, none of them used to Duke sounding like that. There was something strangely panicked in his voice. “Duke..?” She asked, “Did you find something?”
“We…” Duke gulped. “We have a huge problem.”
____─ ·𖤓☾· ─____
It took them two and a half hours to finally find them.
The break in went without a hitch, the Bats and Superboy swiftly rounding up all the men, especially when it turned out there was no kryptonite in sight. It wasn't good news; it meant that the other half of the operation had been moved somewhere, and that there were more loose ends, but at least they could grill the goons on what they knew, which wasn't much. Unfortunately, that, along with the finally recovered footage from Batman's cowl was enough to confirm what Duke had seen prior.
But, when Jason actually saw two very small boys in grimey, unmistakable superhero uniforms curled together in a fucking sewer , of all places, - and Gods, what if they encountered Killer Croc or something?! - he was pretty sure his jaw fell on the floor. Duke, standing there, by his side, was pretty much as mystified as he was, even though he was the only one who had presumably seen some version of this already.
Closing his mouth perhaps a little too tightly, Jason put a hand up to his comm.
“We found them.”
Immediate relief flooded the comm line, people confirming that they were moving to their location.
The boys didn't stir. They were crammed into a very tight space, Supes' blue clad back to them, some red bits of the torn cape still visible.
Jason looked at Duke, who winced.
Ah, fuck it. Jason was an adult, now, after all, he could deal with this and think on the uncomfortable reality of this whole mess later.
Gingerly, he reached forward, just barely able to grasp the back of the Superman suit in his fist, dragging him by the scruff fast enough so that the boy wouldn't struggle and hurt himself, or, worse, everyone else, if he still had his superpowers, even if his intel told him that Supes didn't develop them until he was in his teens.
Everything else happened so fast. Little Clark woke up with a scared yelp, immediately putting up a struggle, and then, suddenly, there was another boy barrelling into him, Jason, in his surprise, dropping the kryptonian and almost tumbling into the dirty water.
“You little-”
Clark was already scrambling away, stopped in his tracks by a panicked Duke, spreading out his hands to stop him, Jason grabbing onto the little shit that was definitely baby Bruce and immediately letting out a curse as the fucker had bit him, right on his exposed forearm.
Clark, turning back to look at the commotion, screamed.
“Let him go!” But his attempt at tackling Jason too had been thwarted by Duke who scooped him up, subduing the struggling boy.
Bruce was growling like a feral animal and bucking wildly in his hands, and Jason cursed as he finally managed to get a good hold on him. “Fucking- Demon child! Stop struggling!” He snarled,
“We're here to help!” Duke had urgently blurted, Clark stiffening in his arms, his expression of anguish smoothing out a little, but Bruce didn't stop growling.
“W-we’re friends, Bruce, we swear!”
Finally, Bruce had stopped struggling, recognizing his own name, but the boy was still shaking with fear and adrenaline, which wasn't much better.
Jason grimaced.
“Yeah.” He confirmed, awkwardly.
Well, this went well. If you discount the bleeding, kid sized bite mark on his forearm, that is.
They should have waited for Dick or something. Anyone, really, besides Jason.
“Okay. Okay.” Duke soothed, biting his lip nervously. The teen seemed to be as out of his depth as Jason was, at least. “I'm- We're friends, okay, yeah? I'm gonna let you go now, Su- Clark. Don't try to run away.”
Clark didn't answer. He was pursing his lips tightly, trying to look at Duke over his shoulder before looking at little Bruce. Patiently, Duke just waited for confirmation.
Eventually, Clark nodded his head, very slowly.
Duke breathed out a huge sigh of relief.
“Ookay. I'm gonna keep a hand on your shoulder, so don't try to run away, or anything, yeah?..”
He didn't wait for confirmation this time. Slowly, like he was actually dealing with a startled animal, he stood, releasing his hold on Clark, Jason moving fully in front of him to intercept him if he tried running.
“Good, good, thank you. Okay, uh, Jay, can you…?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jason grumbled, although the way Duke had called him by his nickname did stir something warm in him; something that made him kind of want to bristle. Duke was still very new to the family, not to mention the most weary of Jason, so he had never called him that before.
A sudden wave of anxiety made him look at the tiny Bruce.
This was… Weird.
Batman had always felt larger than life, and this- Seeing him like this, as a small, terrified child just felt… wrong.
It hadn't been something Jason could ever imagine, no matter how fucked up and crazy their lives were.
“You heard him. Don't try to run. We're not gonna hurt you.” He warned, shaking Bruce a little to release his frustration.
Little Clark's brows knitted and he levelled a stern look at Jason. Bruce growled.
Ugh, this was so fucking weird.
Slowly, he lowered the little hell spawn, - and, okay, he kind of saw where Damian got this from, now - onto the ground right in front of him. Bruce didn't move, not even trying to stand on his legs as he did, ending up sitting on the ground right up until Jason had removed his hand and took a tiny step back.
Immediately, Bruce had darted towards Clark, the boys meeting in the middle as Jason and Duke both spread out their hands in an aborted movement to intercept them.
Fortunately, they didn't need to.
Jason's mouth fell open again, as the boys hugged, Bruce throwing a glare and snarling at him over his shoulder, Clark looking at him as well, two pairs of eyes, one greyish and the other inhumanly blue staring at him, big like saucers.
It was probably then that Bruce's eyes finally caught on the holsters of his guns.
His little face went deathly pale, the shaking starting up all over again, and Clark seemed to notice his distress from how tight Bruce was probably clutching onto him, also looking at Jason before his eyes widened.
Ah, fuck.
They definitely should have waited for Nightwing.