Operation: I Am Human

by StandingBi

Summary:

How, exactly, did you tell the Justice League you weren’t a feral cryptid haunting Gotham?

That single, most ridiculous question had been gnawing at Bruce’s mind for the past week. He could let them believe it—he had certainly let worse rumors fester when it served his purposes—but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

or

The continuation of Unintentional Cryptid.

Bruce tries to clear up the small misunderstanding but every single time he interacts with the Justice League, it gets worse

Notes:

I really should be working on my other fic but here I am. Posting another addition to my cryptid batfamily smh

About halfway through writing this I realized I started to write it was Bruce's perspective exclusively, which...was not the plan. So I'll have to write a chapter where the league goes over his interactions at some point, cause the best part of a misunderstanding fic is how actions get misunderstood by everyone

Chapter 1

How, exactly, do you tell the Justice League you weren’t a feral cryptid haunting Gotham?

That single, most ridiculous question had been gnawing at Bruce’s mind for the past week. He could let them believe it—he had certainly let worse rumors fester when it served his purposes—but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

He would rather have “Brucie” Wayne trending across every tabloid site in the world—caught in another absurdly staged scandal, or even filmed skinny-dipping in Gotham Harbor during a charity dare—than have the planet’s most elite heroes secretly wondering if the Batman was, in fact, literally a bat man.

He knows the League is due to have another one of their meetings soon. 

While he had made an effort to keep Gotham—and by extension, his family—off-limits to superhumans, that didn’t mean he ignored the League. From their first public appearances onward, Bruce had tracked them as carefully as he tracked any rising crime syndicate. He knew their roster changes, their headquarters rotations, their habits.

Which meant he also knew exactly where and when they were gathering next. Not that the meeting location was particularly hard to find.

Subtlety doesn’t seem to be a requirement for memberships. If the gleaming building didn’t already have a giant stylized emblem plastered across its facade, the battalion of news crews camped outside made it more than obvious.

But he couldn’t just show up. It would not be taken well and he already screwed up the first impression. That’s what got him in this situation in the first place.

But if he doesn’t, they’ll continue to treat him like some elusive cave-dwelling cryptid whose territory must be respected.

Bruce sighed.

It looked like his best bet would have to be to find Superman before the meeting starts. The man had said they wanted to talk, he would be more than willing to invite Bruce to join.

–

Finding Superman wasn’t hard. 

All it took was luring him into an abandoned building in Metropolis. 

Batman waited in the rafters, perfectly still, the way the city’s bats waited for prey. The building groaned faintly in the wind, broken glass whispering against the steel frame. Down below, the heavy tread of boots crunched across grit and plaster. Superman stepped through the main doors.

He was cautious, scanning the shadows with that infuriating calm he always carried, but in Batman’s opinion? Not cautious enough.

Once Superman passed beneath him, Bruce moved. The grapple hissed softly, and his body lowered headfirst in absolute silence. He hung there in the dark, cape draping awkwardly, eyes catching the faintest glint of light.

It was a terrible idea. But hanging like a bat had felt… appropriate at the time. In hindsight, it would not work in his favor. 

He could already hear Alfred’s voice: Astute as ever, sir.

Superman turned.

For one rare, glorious second, the Man of Steel looked genuinely startled—his entire frame jerking back. Then his boot scuffed against the cracked concrete as he stumbled a full step away from the upside-down bat. 

Then, in the span of a heartbeat, the shock smoothed out. Superman drew a breath, his face pulling into a crooked smile.

“...Batman.” His voice dropped lower like before.

Batman said nothing. 

He just stared, unblinking, cloak swaying gently in the draft like wings preparing to close in.

Superman cleared his throat. The sound was loud in the cavernous dark. “You’re… a bit away from Gotham.” There was an edge of concern in his tone, but Bruce couldn’t pin down who it was for.

He tilted his head slowly. The movement made the cape shift again.

The silence continued. And the longer it went on, the more the man in front of him seemed to fray around the edges. Superman’s weight shifted from one foot to the other. Fingers curled, uncurled. His eyes kept darting—just slightly—to the way Batman hung.

Then—too loud in the stillness—Superman blurted, “Oh!”

Batman flinched, muscles tightening unexpectedly. 

Superman froze, hands shooting up instantly, palms out in apology. “Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to—uh—startle you.” He gave an awkward laugh that died halfway out of his mouth. “I just—uh—I think I know why you’re here.”

Batman stared at him.

Superman’s smile faltered under the weight of that silence. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the other lowering from its placating posture in something that felt… resigned. “You’re here because… I wanted to talk to you. Right?”

Batman nodded once. 

Superman’s shoulders loosened a fraction when Bruce nodded. “Good. That’s… good.” His voice carried a little too much relief, like he’d just confirmed a bomb was probably disarmed.

Superman glanced around the empty building—almost in an attempt to not meet the other’s eyes. Batman could infer why. Many predator beings viewed eye contact as a challenge. At least the man was taking pre-cautious, but Bruce was not an animal . 

He grit his teeth, trying to hold back a growl. 

“So… um. I’ve been meaning to—” He stopped himself, then tried again, his tone soft, careful. “The League has… noticed you.”

Batman shifted himself slightly, a small headache forming from how long he had been hanging upside down. 

Superman hesitated at the movement, then pushed on. “We’ve been talking, and… we think you’d be a great asset. You know, if you’d want to work with us.”

Batman had suspected that was why the League wanted to meet. What he hadn’t expected was an actual invitation after they’d spent weeks believing he wasn’t even human. (He refused to call himself an animal.)

Batman didn’t have an answer. He had always been doing it alone—or as alone as you can get with the multitudes of children he seems to keep acquiring. 

He didn’t know what working with the Justice League would be like. 

Superman looked like he was about to fill the silence again. Before he could, Batman dropped from the grapple line. His boots hit concrete without a whisper. The cape fell around him like the folding of wings, and when he straightened, the faint light caught in his eyes just enough to make them gleam.

Superman swallowed audibly.

“We’re meeting today,” he said, voice careful and coaxing. “I thought maybe… if you’re unsure. Just… to talk.”

Finally. That’s what Batman wanted. Maybe it would have been faster if just spoke but one look at Superman’s face, the embarrassment bubbled up and he wasn’t sure if could manage actual words if he tried. 

Where had that come from? He was Brucie Wayne, for God’s sake. Shameless was practically his brand. And yet—apparently, he’d been wrong.

Clark gave a shaky laugh. “...Or, uh, not talk. That’s fine too. We’re flexible.”

He forgot to respond. 

He still didn’t. Instead, he turned and strode toward the building’s exit, trying to crush the mounting discomfort clawing at him for losing control of the interaction.

Superman’s footsteps followed quickly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

Batman’s boots were silent on the polished floor as he stepped in behind Superman. The low hum of conversation died the instant he crossed the threshold.

He wasn’t impressed. Not that he expected much—his standards were famously high, or so his kids liked to remind him—but this? This looked like a daycare for overgrown children playing dress-up.

It wasn’t just the outdated costumes. The so-called meeting table was littered with scattered papers and uncapped pens. A few pairs of scissors sat half-haphazard, as if forgotten mid-craft project. Sure, most of these people could survive worse than a sharp edge, but that didn’t excuse carelessness.

Then there was the tech—piles of it, stacked in corners and along the walls like hoarded junk. Gadgets, monitors, wires tangled in hopeless knots. 

There was no professionalism. None.

Batman wasn’t even bothering to study the heroes anymore. But that wasn’t the case for them. 

No one had moved since he entered. Every hero sat frozen, the silence thick with the kind of unease that came from seeing something you weren’t prepared for. A couple of eyes flicked toward Superman, searching for confirmation. Did he really bring this thing here? The bat-creature even he kept his distance from?

Batman resisted the twitching urge to start fixing the disaster of a room. He forced his attention back to the people. There’d be time to correct it later when— if he decided to join.

Another blinking light in the clutter caught his eye. Some gadget chirping for attention. His focus almost slipped—

Until Flash leaned toward Hal, voice just loud enough to carry. “D’you think its species likes shiny things?”

his gaze locking onto the speedster. He didn’t miss the way Flash froze, his face draining pale under the mask as the realization hit. Then came the squeak—a small, strangled sound Flash probably wished he could bury six feet under.

Batman would have been satisfied by that— should have been—if he wasn’t already failing at the single objective that had brought him here.

“Can it even speak?”

The question came from Hal Jordan, his tone pitched a little too high, betraying nerves he probably thought he was hiding.

Batman’s glare shifted to the Green Lantern.

‘I can.’

…

He was drawing up blueprints for a ship, calculating trajectory out of this solar system, plotting coordinates for a new planet to call home. He did it again.  

“We think…” Superman’s voice cut through the static in Batman’s brain, sheepish in a way only he could manage. “…uh, they don’t have the right vocal cords for human speech.”

Batman turned his head just enough to pin him with a look.

“But they do seem to understand.” Superman added quickly, forcing a smile. He turned back to Hal, that same smile sharpening as if to reprimand his friend. 

That shut the Lantern up. Hal dropped his gaze to his folded hands on the table, fidgeting like a school kid caught passing notes. Across the room, someone shifted in their seat. Another cleared their throat. The tension crawled up the walls.

This was torture. But Batman was not going to be the first one to break it.

“Right.” Superman finally spoke, Batman let out a discrete breath of relief. “Why don’t we… take a seat?” His tone was light, but Batman didn’t miss the way Superman’s hand brushed the edge of the table, quiet reassurance to the others.

He led Batman around the table to the far end. When they neared, Green Arrow rose. The scrape of his chair legs granted against Batman's ears. He stepped into their path with that easy, cocky grin—the one that said I’m not intimidated. Really. Totally fine.

“Welcome to the team.” He said, hand extended.

And—

He knew that damn goatee. He’s recognized it anywhere. 

That was Oliver Queen. 

Oliver Queen was Green Arrow. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d known Oliver since childhood—the bratty heir with too much money and not enough sense. He never expected him to be a superhero. But…no one would’ve pegged him for this either.

Oliver’s grin twitched, a crack in his confidence. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hand still hanging in the air. Then his smile thinned into something less certain.

Right. He needed to shake the hand.

By the time Batman moved to reciprocate, Oliver had already started to lower his hand. Which was worse—pretending he hadn’t seen it or making him raise it again for an awkward half-shake?

Apparently Batman’s survival instincts had chosen violence. His arm kept moving past Oliver’s retreating hand and—God help him—patted the man on the head.

Like a dog.

Oliver froze. So did Batman. His own hand hovered there for a second too long, making the situation ten times worse. Across the table, someone choked on laughter.

“…Cool,” Oliver said finally, voice dry as he slid back into his chair with the grace of a man rethinking life choices.

Bruce wanted the floor to split open and drag him into the molten core of the Earth. This was not working. At all.

He defaulted to his backup plan: sit down and show he’s human.

If he struggled to maneuver his cape so he wasn’t sitting on it—he didn’t.

Superman took the head of the table, his voice steady as he started the meeting. He picked up a sleek tablet, directing the others to review the reports.

There was a similar device in front of Batman. Good. He could work with that. Focus on the screen. Pay attention. Avoid further humiliation.

Except… he couldn’t.

The screen stayed black when he picked it up.

He tapped the screen. Nothing. Swiped. Nothing. 

His brows furrowed. Tilting the device, he ran a finger along the edges, searching for a power trigger. Nothing. His scowl deepened. He flipped it over. Checked again.

A soft cough came from his right. Flash. 

Batman looked up, meeting the speedster’s wary smile as two hesitant hands reached toward the tablet. For reasons even he couldn’t explain, Batman pulled it closer to himself.

Flash flinched back, hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment, big guy.” His smile twitched wider, nervous. “Just… y’know, tech can be tricky.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. 

Flash twitched, uncertainty flashing across his face. “Uh… you gotta hold the power button for, like, three seconds.”

Batman stared at him. Then at the pad. He turned the tablet over again, locating the offending button. He pressed.

Nothing.

Pressed harder.

Still nothing.

Barry cleared his throat again. “You gotta, uh… hold it. Three seconds. Like… one Mississippi, two Mississippi—”

The screen exploded in color and cheerful icons. His eyes narrowed at the sudden brightness, blinking once, twice. Definitely not his kind of tech.

This was going to be hell.

From beside him, Flash muttered, “Nailed it.” under his breath.

He really should’ve taken Alfred's social lessons. 

—

“I heard you paid the Justice League a visit.”

Dick’s voice carried that particular brand of amusement that always spelled trouble. He leaned back against the table holding the Batcomputer, arms braced on the edge.

Bruce grunted, hand pressed to his forehead. The meeting had only created more problems—exactly what he didn’t want.

Dick folded his arms, eyebrow lifting in fake seriousness. “Funny. I thought you were the one who said to stay away from the League.”

“I went to clear a misunderstanding,” Bruce replied flatly.

That eyebrow climbed higher. Bruce pressed on. “They seem to be under the impression that I’m… a bat cryptid.”

Dick blinked. Then the grin broke wide, sharp and gleeful. “And why would they think that?”

He didn’t want to answer. Dick’s tone said he already knew and was just loading ammunition.

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead before forcing his attention back to the glowing screens. “They were in Gotham a few weeks ago,” he said. “I… may have forgotten to speak normally.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

Dick’s laughter cracked the air like glass. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, wheezing out between gasps, “You—oh my God—you spoke to them in bird calls ?!”

Bruce’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

That only made Dick laugh harder. He slid onto his side, completely losing his balance, rolling on the floor like the concept of gravity had joined in on the joke.

Then, just as abruptly, he stopped. He shot upright, eyes bright with a spark Bruce knew all too well.

“Wait.”

“Does this mean…” Dick’s grin grew slow and deliberate, blooming like the grin of a cat that just discovered a box of canaries. “…we can mess with them ?”

“Dick.” Bruce’s voice dropped an octave, thick in the warning.

Dick’s smile only grew bigger. “I didn’t hear a no.”

Bruce leveled him with a glare. “ Dick.”

Dick vaulted to his feet in one seamless flip, grinning like a man possessed. He backflipped off the Batcomputer table just to show off—because of course he did—before sprinting toward the elevator like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

“Tim!” he yelled over his shoulder, voice echoing off the Cave walls. “Call Jason—we’re gonna have some fun !”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly through his nose.
This was going to be worse than the meeting.

Notes:

Incorrect quotes:

Bruce: Alfred
Alfred: Yes, Master Bruce?
Bruce: Hypothetically… if someone believed I was a bat creature—
Alfred: I fail to see the hypothetical in this scenario.
Bruce: How would one… correct that misunderstanding?
Alfred: One might consider speaking to them plainly. Using words, for example. In a calm, non-growling fashion.

Hal: Why does it look like it’s plotting to kill us?
Flash: …Because it probably is?
Superman: [forcing a smile] Guys, relax. He’s just here to talk.
Batman: [struggling with the tablet like it’s alien tech]
Flash: Yeah, real terrifying. Can’t even open an app.
Batman: glares in binary

Green Arrow: Why would you do that?
Batman: …Reflex.
Green Arrow: What kind of reflex makes you pat someone on the head?!
Batman: A bad one.

Flash: You gotta hold the power button for three seconds.
Batman: stares
Flash: Like, one Mississippi, two Mississippi—
Batman: harder stare
Flash: Okay, okay, zero Mississippis. Got it.

Flash: Guys, I think Batman tried to kill me with a LOOK.
Hal: Maybe it’s how his species communicates.

Superman: Let’s all agree not to call Batman “it.”
Hal: Fine.
Flash: Fine.
Green Arrow: …Do we still get to feed him?

Tim: What did they say?
Bruce: They think I’m a cryptid.
Jason: Well… they’re not wrong.

Okay, went a little overboard on the incorrect quotes. They're fun!

Wanted to state but when they are in costume they are referred to by their hero name (Expect Hal/Oliver cause reasons) and vice versa

I want write a bit with the birds messing with the league but I am not sure if I want that to be in a different book or this one.

This will be update sporadically, pretty much only when I get the inspiration. At least until I finish my other multi-chapter fic I have been working on.

Chapter 2

Notes:

I struggled with a capital S on writing the pov of the Justice League.

BUT I did manage to find a solution where I am able to included the other side of misunderstandings without having to rewrite or reflect on previous scenes

This chapter is a bit shorter than I usually like them but it kinda reached a natural conclusion. I even had another scene planned but it felt awkward come after the final scene here

Once the meeting ended, Batman was gone

The door didn’t even make a sound when it closed.

The remaining League members lingered, staring at the door as if it might sprout claws and come back for them. 

Hal broke first. He jabbed a finger toward the exit, voice rising in pitch like his sanity was going with it. “A little warning next time you decide to bring a bat creature to our meetings, Clark!”

His tone had no bite—just the brittle edge of someone trying to keep panic from setting in. His ring hand was already glowing faint green like a subconscious defense reflex.

“Sorry,” Clark sighed, wearing an almost apologetic smile. “He showed up out of nowhere, ten minutes before the meeting. I figured… it’d be a good way to break the ice.”

“That’s your excuse?” Hal’s voice pitched higher, his gaze bouncing around the table. “Batman materializes out of the void and you think, hey, let’s introduce him to my friends? Great idea!”

“We already agreed to extend an invitation to him,“  Diana interjected. She folded her hands atop the table, calm and deliberate. “And I saw no problem with him joining us today. He was… quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant isn’t the word I’d use,” Barry cut in, his foot drumming a rapid-fire rhythm against the floor. “More like predatory . I swear he was going to bite my hand off when I tried to help him turn on the tablet.”

“ See?!” Hal said. He threw his arms out like this was the smoking gun he’d been waiting for. “Thank you!”

“Are you saying you’re no longer comfortable with him being part of the League?” Diana asked, her voice even, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Yes? No?” Hal sounded like a man in crisis, his voice pitching higher before collapsing into a groan. He slumped forward in his chair like someone had let the air out of him, arms sprawled across the table in defeat. “I was fine when I thought he was just another guy.” He sat up slightly, gesturing helplessly. “We don’t know how to deal with a feral…bat…thing.” His voice trailed off, the words hanging awkwardly.

An uneasy agreement moved around the table.

Superman exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand to his chin, deep in thought. “Okay. I’m sure we can figure something out.” He paused, thinking. “If something confuses you, if he reacts in a way you don’t expect, make a note of it. We’ll build a file, figure out how to communicate with him better.”

There was a pause, then J’onn inclined his head slowly. “That is an excellent idea, Superman.”

Hal made a face. “A file? Really? What are we, the world’s most underpaid bat researchers?”

Barry muttered under his breath, too low to hear, and started tapping even faster.

Diana’s lips curved into the faintest suggestion of a smile as she spoke. “If we are to work as a unit, we must understand every member of this team. Even the most… enigmatic.”

Hal leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Great. So now we’re making a Bat Manual. Fantastic.”

Barry snorted, but no one else laughed. The sound bounced awkwardly in the room before fading, leaving behind an uncomfortable quiet that crept into the corners. The hum of the Watchtower’s systems suddenly seemed louder against the weight of what they weren’t saying out loud.

They were all thinking the same thing.

The prospect of having more…unpredictable… team member was, well, unpredictable. It was uncharted territory for them. Every member of the League so far had been human or, at the very least, human-adjacent.

“Okay but what was the head patting about?” Barry blurted suddenly.

Oliver groaned from the far end of the table, dragging both hands down his face. “Thanks for bringing that up again,” he muttered. “Really needed the reminder. I was almost starting to forget.”

“Perhaps it was a gesture of dominance,” Diana offered, her voice as thoughtful. “Many species establish hierarchy through touch. It could also be how his species treat their young.”

Barry’s head whipped toward her so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Wait—wait, hold on.” He jabbed a finger toward Oliver. “So Batman sees Ollie as… what, a kid? A baby? What are baby bats called? Pups? He sees Oliver as one of his pups?!”

Across the table, Hal snorted, leaning back with his hands on his head. “Or a pet,” he said, grinning like the devil. 

Oliver’s head snapped up, his glare promising violence. “I will shoot you.”

—

[New document created by Superman]

[Renamed ‘Bat Manual’ by Hal]

Subject: Batman – Behavioral Observations

• Reacted negatively to Superman and Wonder Woman entering Gotham without prior notice. (Refer to Incident #01)
  [Added by Superman]
  
  
• Displayed unusual aggression when The Flash attempted to reach for his tablet during briefing. (Refer to Incident #04)
  [Added by The Flash]

• Speech pattern irregular; may lack proper anatomy for standard human language.
  [Added by Superman]
• Question: Is he even able to read?
  [Added by The Flash]
• Response: …I will make picture-friendly reports from now on.
  [Added by Superman]

• May perceive Green Arrow as a juvenile member of the pack. (Refer to Incident #05)
  [Added by The Flash]
• Alternative theory: Views Green Arrow as a pet.
  [Added by Hal]

• Possible attraction to light and/or shiny objects. Distracted by blinking lights of the technology in the room upon entry.
  [Added by Wonder Woman]
  
  

 

—

Bruce examined his work one last time. The audio amplifier was finally integrated into the cowl—a deceptively simple addition that had given him more trouble than he first thought. Minor issues like wire inconsistencies and unstable power connections had been irritating enough, but the real challenge had been the size constraints of the cowl’s ears.

There simply hadn’t been enough room for the internal gears required for directional movement. In the end, he’d been forced to scrap the old design entirely and start fresh. Now the ears no longer stood as rigid, pointed spikes but curved with a subtle, organic look—eerily reminiscent of an actual bat.

This new design wasn’t going to help his case. If anything, it would fuel the rumors. But the advantages of the upgrade outweighed any concerns regarding the League. He could easily explain the design away once he’s finally able to clear everything up. 

Besides, it’s not like he planned on actually joining them. That was never the goal. The league was doing well enough without him. They had strong mission statement, polished reputation, and no issues in their unity—at least none he could find.

If anything needed work, it was that disaster of a meeting room. He could still see it. Still feel it.

Bruce was fighting the urge to go and clean it himself. 

It would be weird if he did, right? He wasn’t one of them. Showing up uninvited to reorganize their chaos would not reflect well on him. It was… invasive. People didn’t like strangers invading their space—normal people didn’t, anyway.

Still—if he left it the way it was, the image would gnaw at him for weeks. Sleep would be impossible.

Bruce let out a slow breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to force the thought away. This was ridiculous. It was a room. Just a room .

And a loose cable next to an unsecured data terminal, his mind supplied unhelpfully.

Bruce scowled. He wasn’t joining the Justice League. He didn’t do teams. He wasn’t about to sign up for any of that. He didn’t need a seat at their table.

…But then again, if he had a seat at the table, he could make sure that table didn’t look like a war crime. He could fix the lighting while he was at it. Install security protocols that actually worked. Upgrade their network—because God, if their encryption was anything like their cable management, it was a miracle they hadn’t been hacked by a teenager. 

A normal teenager. Not Tim level.

Bruce stared at the newly redesigned cowl in his hands.

He wasn’t joining them. Definitely not.

…Maybe just for the week. 

Notes:

Superman: We’ll make a guide.
Barry: Oh great, a Bat Owner’s Manual. Does it come with warnings like “Don’t make eye contact or he’ll eat your soul”?
Hal: Page one: “Do not pet the Bat.”

Oliver: Why is there a conspiracy board with my name on it?
Barry: It’s not a conspiracy board!
Hal: It’s an evidence wall.
Oliver: There’s red string connecting me to “Potential prey.”
Barry: …Okay, maybe it’s a little conspiracy board.

Hal: Should we bring in a laser pointer next time or...?
Clark: Don't. Just...don't

J’onn: He is… interesting.
Hal: That’s what people say before they get murdered.

Bruce: I’m not joining the Justice League.
Two minutes later, scrolling through smart-home catalogs for the lighting system.
Bruce: …Purely hypothetical.

Dick: So you’re joining the Justice League?!
Bruce: No.
Dick: No??
Bruce: I’m… making some adjustments.
Jason: Adjustments? You're joining the PTA of superheroes.

You are all the reason why I'm not doing my homework /lh

I'm starting to think my Bruce might be autistic....It would make sense XD

Okay, so I did decide to have the birds shenanigans in other fic in this series but it won't be posted for awhile because I'm going to wait until they are officially introduced in this one. Sorry to disappoint

Also I promise my upload schedule isn't this consistent and fast! I've just been so obsessed with this concept that I can't sleep. And all your comments are pushing me to write more! So Thank you!!!

I hope you are all okay with the document idea! I thought it would work well with my plans.

Chapter 3

Notes:

BOOM!

You all are so nice! I love all the comments I've been getting! Makes me excited to post the next ones
I even have a few favorites now, totally not printing them and framing them on my wall /j

This is my favorite chapter so far! Enjoy!

If he discovered that someone in the League had been buying new wires every time they got tangled instead of untangling them, they would be forced— forced —to sit down and untangle all twenty-seven piles he’d found so far. Even if he had to babysit them the entire time.

He heard the soft hiss of the door sliding open just as he unearthed yet another set of impossibly tangled wires. 

Batman straightened slowly, the coil cables dangling from his gloved hand like a captured serpent. He turned toward the sound of footsteps, his expression neutral—though his pulse had jumped, just a little, at the unexpected interruption.

Superman stood frozen in the doorway, a messenger bag slung over one shoulder, a half-eaten bagel suspended mid-air in his hand. His eyes were wide, bright with a kind of startled disbelief at Batman. Batman, who stood surrounded by new, smaller piles of the tech like nests of some particularly obsessive species. 

“...Batman?” Superman finally said, his voice slow and careful. His eyes flicked toward the nearest wall clock. “What are you…uh…doing here so early?”

Batman followed the look, head tilting slightly. Oh. It was early—5 a.m., to be exact. He hadn’t planned on staying that long.

He turned back toward Superman, who was now shifting the bagel from one hand to the other, eyes still wide. Batman wasn’t sure how’d he explain. That he had been organizing the room for the past 6 hours. So he defaulted to the thing he did best when faced with a question he had zero interest in answering. 

He ignored it.

Batman set the coil of tangled cords down onto the growing pile, turned back to his work, and plunged his gloved hands back into the sprawl of tech.

For a while, there was only the soft clink of metal and the low hum of dormant tech. Then—hestiant shuffling and the scraping of a chair being pulled back. Batman’s ears twitched toward the sound automatically, and—wow—his new audio filters were working better than expected. He couldn’t wait to field-test them.

He kept working, lifting what appeared to be the fractured end of some unidentifiable component and tossing it into the scrap pile without a second glance.

“Did you decide to join?”

Batman’s head jerked up, ears tuning sharply toward the sound. Superman, now sitting at the head of table, flinching slightly at his movement. Batman stilled for a handful of seconds, feeling a tad guilty, before offering a single, deliberate nod.

Superman’s face lit up. “Great!” 

Batman jerked back at the sheer volume that filtered through. Superman noticed, his grin softened into something sheepish.

“Great,” he repeated, quieter this time. “There’s a meeting in a few hours, so… you can keep doing—” he gestured vaguely at the organized chaos surrounding them, “—whatever this is until then.”

Batman didn’t offer more than a brief glance in Superman’s direction before returning to the mess. He wasn’t going to let the man’s presence derail him. Distraction was inefficiency, and inefficiency was not his style. He was almost done clearing out the useless junk—almost.

The office supplies had been the easiest to tame, their scattered chaos reduced to neat rows and categorized stacks within the first thirty minutes. Now, the real work? The work that had kept him here for hours without him noticing was the tech. Salvaging what could be repurposed. Dissecting what couldn’t. Condemning the useless remnants to the discard pile like corpses of failed machines.

It was tedious but it had to be done. 

Pulling out yet another tanglement of wires, Batman grumbled to himself. That makes twenty-nine. Twenty-nine . Unbelievable.

The wire hit the pile with a muted thunk . 

Somewhere behind him, Superman had produced a laptop—Batman didn’t need to look to know. The sound of typing was more than enough. 

But every time he paused, Batman could feel the man’s gaze on him. 

He tried not to let it bother him. 

Clearing the last of the unorganized tech, Batman took a moment to survey the piles he’d made around the room. Every piece would need a proper home eventually. But that could be a task for another time. He wasn’t going to even acknowledge the wires. 

He was tired and there was that meeting he had just been invited to attend. 

For now, he’d take the scraps to the trash, then maybe rest his eyes for an hour or two.

Gathering the scattered remnants, he made his way to the door, feeling Superman’s gaze on his back yet again.

When he returned, Superman glanced up with a faint smile before turning back to his laptop.

Batman scanned the room, searching for somewhere—anywhere—he could rest. There were chairs, of course. He could lean back in one and try to relax. But the harsh glare of the overhead lights made his eyes ache. They burned with fatigue.

He blinked hard, moisture gathering against the sting, and then he saw it. A narrow ledge tucked high in the corner, above the dangling lights. A spot elevated, out of reach, and barely any light to reach him. His lips pressed into a thin line of approval. That would do.

He scaled upward in silence, the cape brushing against the wall as he rose. Superman didn’t even glance his way—either too absorbed in the glow of his screen or deliberately pretending this was normal.

He perched on the ledge, folding himself into the cramped space. Tight fit, but workable. He twisted just enough to keep the room in view, his back pressed to the wall, one boot dangling over the edge.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly, the breath dragging tension out of his muscles. For the first time in hours, his body stopped bracing for impact. It had been screaming for a break—and finally, it got one.

Time blurred. Seconds, minutes—he didn’t bother keeping track. From his perch, the world below hummed with soft, persistent noises: the faint tap of keys, the muted scroll of a mouse, the occasional low sigh when Superman shifted in his chair.

The constant sound of another person would have grated on him, needling at his frayed nerves. It didn’t. In fact, it grounded him in a strange way. It was peaceful. 

A sudden hiss cracked against his ears like a gunshot. Too loud. Far too loud.

Bruce jerked violently, instincts detonating before logic could catch up. His boot slipped. The world tilted, and gravity yanked at him. His fingers scraped the ledge, clawing for purchase before his body followed his slip. He caught himself—barely—but his heart slammed once, hard enough to feel in his teeth.

He froze there, chest tight, every muscle tense. He forced air back into his lungs, teeth grinding against the surge of adrenaline. Amplified audio needs recalibration. That should not have been that loud.

When his pulse finally stopped trying to hammer through his ribs, he shifted enough to glance down, ready to identify the threat.

And found two faces staring up at him.

Martian Manhunter stood just inside the doorway. Beside him, Superman was already on his feet, chair shoved back in the rush to move. Both concerned frowns dotting their faces.

He braced against the wall, jaw tightening, every inch of him radiating I’m fine even as his fingers ached from the grip that saved him.

“I apologize. I did not mean to startle you, Batman.” Martian Manhunter said. While his tone remained the same as always, he was able to pick up actual guilt from his words. 

Batman gave him a nod, accepting the apology. He could not fault the Martian. If he hadn’t just built his tech, this wouldn’t have happened. That was on him.

J’onn’s crimson gaze lingered for a moment longer before he finally turned to greet Superman.

The shift in focus loosened some of the tension in Bruce’s shoulders. His breath eased out slowly, silent against the hum of the lights overhead. That could’ve gone better.

He should never have let his guard slip. Never should’ve lost track of the room. His lack of sleep was catching up with him. 

Hopefully this meeting wouldn’t last long.

Given the fact at the Martian Manhunter arrival, it would be starting soon. He climbed down from his perch. 

He stood there for a beat too long, unsure of what came next. Martian Manhunter and Superman had already slipped into conversation, their voices low. He couldn’t just walk over and join them—that felt… rude.

So he stayed in his corner, pretending not to watch them.

Except—Superman laughed. The sound was light, unguarded, a warmth that didn’t belong in sterile walls and bright overhead lights. Against his better judgment, it tugged Bruce’s attention over. He glanced before he could stop himself, a flicker of curiosity.

What were they talking about? What could possibly come so easily to them?

His jaw tightened. Maybe if he stepped just a little closer, he could catch a word or two. Surely it would be useful to know more about these people—his new, temporary coworkers.

His hands flexed at his sides, clench, unclench, the small movement doing little to ease the pressure building in his chest. He shifted a step forward, edging out of the safety of his corner.

Martian Manhunter’s gaze flicked to him.

Bruce froze mid-step.

…Nope. Retreat.

With all the grace of a man attempting subtlety and failing miserably, he shuffled back into his corner, posture rigid, as though he had never moved at all. 

“...Batman?” Superman caught the movement. Now both he and Martian Manhunter were looking directly at him.

He could really appreciate a meteor hitting Earth right about now. Or an explosion. He wasn’t picky.

He kept his head angled away, gaze fixed on nothing. If he didn’t acknowledge them, maybe they’d just… vanish. Superman and J’onn exchanged a look, then turned back toward him.

“You’re welcome to join us at the table,” Superman said gently, gesturing to a chair beside him—the same one Bruce had used last time. “We’ll be starting in about ten minutes, once everyone else arrives.

Batman gave a curt nod, still refusing eye contact, then forced himself to cross the room. The shuffle felt excruciatingly slow, every step dragging the weight of two pairs of eyes on him. He sat down, posture still rigid, and after a few long moments, Superman and Martian Manhunter reluctantly returned to their conversation.

Bruce lowered his eyes to the table’s surface. 

Over the next few minutes, League members trickled in one by one. Each time the door opened, Batman’s eyes flicked up automatically.

The Flash was the last to enter. He zoomed in with a large soda clutched in hand—then jolted almost a full meter when his gaze landed on Batman already seated at the table. The shock sent soda cascading over himself.

“Aw, man,” Flash groaned, trying to flick the liquid from his fingers. “Now I’m gonna be all sticky.”

Batman grimaced. He understood. He couldn’t even count the number of times his kids had spilled drinks all over him, his cape, the Batmobile. Occupational hazard, apparently.

Without thinking, he stood and reached for one of his specialized cloths—liquid-absorbent, engineered to pull even Gotham’s sewage water from kevlar. It would handle soda like nothing.

But before he could pull it free, Flash’s eyes widened. He flinched back, waving his hands frantically. “It’s all good, Batman! Don’t need to attack me or anything!” His voice was pitched high, words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

He paused. Why would he attack? Over a spilled soda? His head tilted, confused. 

Flash’s shoulders hunched under the weight of his stare.

Slowly, Batman lowered the cloth and sat back down, unsure what else to do.

Flash let out a long breath of relief, like he’d just narrowly escaped death, then slid into the chair beside him. Still damp.

“Alright.” Superman stood up at the head of the table. “Now that everyone is here, we can begin.” He picked up a tablet. 

Batman’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t seen one placed near him. He didn’t have to worry long. Flash zipped an arm out and set a tablet in front of him—already powered on.

Bruce’s jaw tightened. A low, almost inaudible grumble rumbled in his throat. He could have handled it himself. He didn’t need to be babysat. Still, he picked it up without protest.

He scrolled. Superman’s voice faded into the background. Frowning, he scrolled further. 

…Pictures. Just pictures. No words. His frown deepened as he flicked through the report, page after page of diagrams and images that meant nothing without context. 

How was he supposed to understand this? 

The last report he reviewed had been in text.

He darted a glance around the table. The others were following along, not the slightest confusion on their faces.

He leaned just enough to peek at Flash’s tablet. Text. He looked back at his own.

A stick figure stared back at him from the screen, drawn with the kind of artistry a five-year-old might disown. Batman tilted the tablet, as though the image might reveal a secret from a different angle.

Was this a mistake? 

His eyes flicked to Superman, who continued speaking. 

Batman sank deeper into his chair, silent. How did one even announce this problem? His pride already forbade him even trying to speak. He still couldn’t manage actual English words with his mask on.

He has been practicing in his cave earlier… but shuttering out a sentence wouldn’t be any better than shrieking like a bird. 

Batman sighed, letting the meeting carry on. 

—

“Alright, everyone should be up to date.” Superman smiled, closing his tablet and signaling the end of the meeting.

Batman glared. No. He was not up to date.

He had been given a useless tablet filled with stick figures and nonsensical diagrams. He hadn’t even retained Superman’s speech—too distracted by trying to decode the mystery of what looked like a square with legs. This entire meeting had been pointless.

Batman was tired. He was leaving.

He rose silently, intent on slipping out before anyone noticed.

“Oh!” Flash’s voice rang out behind him. He had stumbled upon the pile of tangled wires Batman had left in the corner. “If someone had told me we had this many cords, I wouldn’t have kept buying them!”

Bruce stopped in the doorway. His eyes narrowed and sharply turned around.

‘You.’

He didn’t even care that he used birdcalls.

—

 

• Presence of nesting behavior. Could be beneficial to provide material. (Refer to Incident #06)
  [Added by Superman]

            - Scratch that. Seems to be more of a hoarding instinct? Possible correlation with cave-dwelling species. However, this does not mean nesting is out of question. [Added by Superman]

• Exhibits low-level, often unconscious vocalizations while engaged in routine or repetitive activities.
  [Added by Superman]

• Preference for elevated vantage points and areas with reduced light. Exposure to bright artificial lighting appears to cause eye pain, aligning with characteristics observed in bats.
  [Added by Superman]

• Heightened sensitivity to abrupt sounds. Sudden noises have been observed to trigger defensive or startled responses. Recommended precaution: maintain low noise levels (Refer to Incident #07)
  [Added by Martian Manhunter]

            - Did Batman’s ears change over night? [Added by Oliver]

            - I do not notice a difference… [Added by Wonder Woman]

 

• Exhibits a behavioral reluctance to enter enclosed spaces uninvited. (Refer to Incident #08)
  [Added by Superman]

            - Like a vampire?? Wait, didn’t you say he was in the meeting room before you? [Added by Hal]

            - …I might have read too deep into the interaction. [Added by Superman]

• Avoid food-related accidents!
  [Added by The Flash]

            - I don’t think the food had anything to do with that. [Added by Hal]

            - Then what do you call that! [Added The Flash]

            - Future observation is needed to determine whether beverage-related stimuli are a behavioral trigger. [Added by Martian Manhunter]

 

           - The picture reports were received well! He scrolled through several times, must have been super easy to understand! [Added by The Flash]

 

 

Notes:

Superman: Are you… okay?
Batman: …
Superman: Blink twice if you’re okay.
Batman: slowly blinks once
Superman: …that’s worse.

Batman: If I find out who keeps buying new cords instead of untangling the old ones, they will untangle every. single. one. of these piles.
Green Lantern: …What if it’s me?
Batman: Then I’ll make you untangle two.
GL: That’s not how math works.
Batman: intensely It is now.

Wonder Woman: You realize you’re just… describing him like a wildlife documentary, right?
Superman: Shh. The subject is about to display nesting behavior.
Batman, from the ceiling: I can hear you.
Superman: scribbling faster Mimics vocalizations of threatened species.

Martian Manhunter: I apologize. I did not mean to startle you.
Batman: death grip on the wall, voice flat …You didn’t.
Superman: You almost fell.
Batman: glares I didn’t.

Flash: Aw man, now I’m all sticky.
Batman: already pulling out a cloth
Flash: Whoa whoa whoa, don’t attack me!
Batman: …It’s a towel.
Flash: …Oh.

Superman: Okay, everyone should be caught up.
Batman: staring at tablet full of doodles
Batman: I have never been more uninformed in my life.

Hal: Why are you crying?
Flash: He made me untangle wires…
Hal: That's not-
Flash: For 5 hours!!
Hal: …
Flash: I swear he was going to eat me if I stopped!

 

Alright! I would like to do a vote on something about the next chapter!
The scene I want to write would be funnier, and land better, through the POV of Superman but I find it easier to write from Batman's POV.
So I want to know which you all would prefer! I already have a bit of the scene from Superman but It is easier to transfer to the other side.

Also! I should be posting the introductory chapter for the Robin shenanigans sometime soon! Remember though it won't be worked on for awhile (partly because I have no ideas for what they would be doing ;-;)

And! YES Damian is around. I promise!

BYE BYE!

I need to name their bird language but I don't know what! They are all so goofy ;-;

Edit: Hey guys. I don’t appreciate negative comments, if you don't like how the fic is going you are more than welcome to stop reading.
Also in no way is the League fully treating Bruce as a animal. He is seen a member of the League, who they are cautious around because he is an unknown 'species' with unknown tendencies. They are documenting him to be able better interact and communicate with him as a member of the team.
Besides this is only chapter 3 and things will start to develop as they better understand Bruce.

Chapter 4

Notes:

The Struggle!
The Pain!

I survived :)

I, personally, feel like this chapter is a bit lack luster but hopefully you all enjoy the time you are spending here!

This was the first mission they’d worked with Batman. Not that it had even started that way.

The League hadn’t seen him outside of meetings in weeks—weeks in which he had attended Every. Single. One. Even the ones held at noon, when any sane nocturnal creature should’ve been buried in sleep.

Clark had been the first to notice. The harsh overhead lights only sharpened the deep shadows under Batman’s eyes, squinting like he was glaring daggers at the sun itself. The longer it went on, the more obvious it became that the sunlight wasn’t doing him any favors.

So, eventually, Clark adjusted. If Batman was going to show up regardless, then the least he could do was make it easier on him. Meetings were quietly rescheduled to the evening hours.

And truthfully, having Batman on the team was working. There had been fewer and fewer “incidents”—situtions where the League found themselves stranded in uncharted territory. Even then, they were easily diverted and later reported into the document. 

But nobody had yet tried to enter Gotham again. 

And that’s where they are now. 

A trafficking ring the League had been monitoring for months—long before Batman entered the picture—began to show signs of activity within Gotham’s borders. If this was where the home base had been established, then they had an opportunity to cut off its head, ending the entire network that spanned across the country.  

They just needed to find Batman. Which, as it turned out, was harder than it sounded. Gotham was a sprawl of rooftops, jagged skylines, and too many places to vanish into.

“Should we leave a note? Shout really loud?” Hal asked, scanning the endless line of rooftops.

Barry leaned against the crumbling ledge, sipping from the soda he’d insisted on bringing despite Clark’s earlier lecture. “Maybe he’s—”

A sharp birdcall split through the night, echoing off nearby buildings. Instinctively, every member of the League tensed, heads snapping up to scan the darkness.

The soft chirp came from Barry’s right. He yelped, jerking back. This time, managing to keep his drink intact. 

“Batman!” Clark’s smile was almost blinding in its relief, his voice genuine.

Barry pressed a hand to his chest, muttering as his pulse struggled to even out. “Can’t you enter without scaring the wits out of me?”

Batman tilted his head, letting out a quieter chirp, one that trailed off into something… almost apologetic.

Barry’s shoulders eased, the tension leaving him. He offered Batman a soft smile. “It’s all good, Bats. I’m sure you don’t mean to do it on purpose.”

Clark opened his mouth to explain why they were in Gotham, but froze when Batman moved first. He reached into his wings and produced a small object before holding it out to Barry.

Barry blinked, confused, but accepted it. Clark leaned closer, eyes narrowing.

A lollipop.

Batman had given Barry a lollipop.

Clark’s mind scrambled for the reasoning. Had Batman somehow noticed Barry’s accelerated metabolism and deduced he’d need the sugar? No… that didn’t fit. Especially given the context. Batman had felt bad about scaring Barry.

Maybe this was a gesture of trust. Batman offered food as a way of showing that he was safe and meant no harm. 

Barry unwrapped the candy without question, sticking it in his mouth. “Cherry. Nice. Thanks, Bats.”

Batman gave the faintest nod, wings shifting as he stepped down from the ledge. 

Clark cleared his throat, drawing the team’s attention back in hopes of steering them toward the real reason they were here. “We’ve come to ask for your help.”

He held Batman’s gaze—or what little of it he could understand. Every instinct told him to tread carefully. If he kept his tone level, kept his body language open, Batman would remain calm. In theory, at least.

Batman leaned forward, most likely to indicate he was listening  

“There’s a possible trafficking ring operating here in your city,” As Clark continued, he noticed Batman straightening, making himself look almost taller. His ears flicked back once at his words.  

“If you could help track them down, we can put a stop to it.”

Batman’s head tilted, slow and deliberate, as though weighing Clark’s offer. Clark doubted he’d refuse. This was still his city—his territory. Whatever else Batman was, he was a protector. The thought of a criminal network festering beneath his watch would never sit well. At least, Clark hoped it wouldn’t.

He glanced over his shoulder at the others. Flash shifted impatiently from foot to foot, his energy vibrating against the silence. Hal’s eyes flicked from his scan of the building back to Batman, clearly unnerved by the possibility of an ambush. Diana, J’onn, and Oliver remained steady, their focus fixed on the conversation.

When Clark turned back, Batman had already come to a decision. A single nod. 

Then—without warning—a sharp, high-pitched shriek split the air. The League froze. Confused glances darted between them. Clark himself tilted his head, mimicking Batman’s body language in a cautious attempt at communication.

But Batman seemed to ignore it.

A few seconds later, the sound came again—only this time it echoed back at them in a way that made no sense. Echoes didn’t work like that.

And then Batman leapt from the roof.

Clark rushed to the ledge, heart kicking at the sight of the empty air—only to find Batman already standing in the alley below, perfectly unharmed. He looked up, eyes glinting, and flicked his hand in a sharp follow motion.

Clark exhaled, turning back to the others. “Guess we’re on the move.”

—

• Willing shared food. Could be an indication of trust and/or safety in his presence. (Refer to Incident #08)
  [Added by Superman]

        - For the record, I appreciate the effort. [Added by The Flash]

 

—

Finding the organization went faster than Clark anticipated. 

Within an hour, the trail brought them to a condemned building. Its rusted sign hung crooked, groaning faintly each time the wind pushed at it. The whole street was lined with them, a graveyard of forgotten land.

Clark had found himself unsettled. He had seen cities scarred by disaster, ravaged by war—but this all felt different. For the first time, he wondered what it meant to live here. 

His gaze flicked to Batman. Maybe he could help clean up the place somehow—for the sake of their new… cryptid friend.

He forced his attention back to the task at hand. The League had taken up positions around the structure, watching and listening for anything suspicious.

Clark frowned. Out of all the buildings they had passed, he couldn’t see what marked this one as different. Yet Batman had zeroed in on it as if he was catching a scent.

Clark kept glancing at Batman. Since it was his city, he was going to follow his lead. He didn’t want to step on any toes. 

After a couple of minutes, Clark caught Batman’s ear flickered forward sharply. Batman crouched lower, both hands placed on the ground, his white eyes narrowing. 

He obviously heard something. Something worrying. 

Clark jerked back to the building, using his x-ray vision to see what had caught his friend’s attention. But…he couldn’t. Who the hell lines building with lead??

For the second time tonight, Batman slipped down from the roof without hesitation. So fast, that Clark took a double take, processing the fact that Batman was no longer by him and instead already at the entrance of the building. Clark flew after him, making to sure signal to the others. 

Batman slipped through the doorway first. Clark after. He could hear everyone else enter behind him through the steady thrum of a generator somewhere deeper inside, muffled voices carrying faintly with it.

Batman signaled, two fingers raised, then a slicing motion downward.

Clark couldn’t help but wonder if that was instinct or if Batman had simply learned to mimic the people he’d studied.

Either way, the League moved on his cue.

The room erupted into chaos. Clark’s attention snagged on Batman, who cut through the fight in movements that didn’t seem entirely human. His wings flared wide, carrying him in sudden bursts from guard to guard, ears twitching to track targets before even Clark registered them. Clark couldn’t look away.

Two guards tried to flank Batman, closing in fast from opposite sides. Clark surged forward before they could strike, seizing one by the collar and yanking him back. A single twist dropped the man to the ground, unconscious.

Within minutes, the room fell still again. The last of the traffickers groaned on the floor, weapons scattered across the concrete.

Clark straightened, scanning the space for stragglers. “That’s all of them.”

Hal let out a sharp breath, rolling his shoulder with a wince. “What are they feeding criminals these days?” He muttered, massaging his neck as if it were bruised.

“I heard there’s a bunch of chemicals in Gotham’s water,” Barry quipped, zipping to Hal’s side. He slung an arm over Hal’s shoulders, earning an annoyed shout of protest.

Clark shook his head with a faint smile, tuning out the conversation. The smile faltered when his gaze drifted back to Batman.

The vigilante was crouched low, his ears twitching and head tilted slightly as if listening to something deeper in the building. Then he crawled towards a stack of crates shoved against the far wall. 

Clark hesitated before following. He wasn’t sure what Batman had detected—he hadn’t heard anything—but something in the man’s focus told him it wasn’t nothing.

Batman reached the crates, his talons scraped across its lid as he pried it open. What lay inside made even Clark’s stomach twist.

It was a girl.

No older than five perhaps.

Worried that Batman’s presence would scare the little girl, Clark moved to pull her out. 

But Batman was faster.

Before Clark could blink, the girl was already in his arms. Batman held her close, one arm securing her small frame against his chest, the other steadying her with surprising care.

And she didn’t flinch. Didn’t cry. She simply pressed her face into his shoulder, as though she’d found relief. 

Interesting.

Clark stepped forward carefully, hand outstretched. “Let me take her—I can take her to a nearby hospital. Make sure she’s alright.”

Batman’s head snapped toward him. A low growl rumbled from him, lips pulling back just enough to flash sharp teeth.

Clark froze. His hand lingered in the space between them for a moment before he slowly withdrew it, palms open in surrender.

Without another word, Batman adjusted his hold on the girl and turned away. His wings folded protectively around her as he carried her toward the exit. 

Clark’s frown deepened. He was about to follow when his super-hearing caught it. At first, he thought it was another growl but it was choppy, almost softer.

Clark blinked, rooted in place as the realization settled over him.

Batman was purring.

Batman could purr??

—

Bruce really wished he hadn’t grabbed his old latex gloves before his patrol tonight. They were rubbing awkwardly against his body armor, creating an iterating sound.  

This was a pain. 

—

• Displays uncanny ability to identify targets or locations without visible markers. Possible explanation: heightened senses.
  [Added by Superman]
  
  
• Protective aggression displayed when approached while carrying young. (Refer to Incident #09)
  [Added by Superman]

         - …You think there are baby Batmans out there? Like smaller, bitey ones? [Added by Hal]

 

• Is able to purr. Uncertain if this only occurs when protecting young, or if it manifests in other situations. Further observation required.
  [Added by Superman]

         - Batman PURRS??? [Added by The Flash]

 

—

Batman perched high in the rafters, cloaked in shadow, doing his best to avoid the League. For reasons beyond him, they’d developed a troubling habit—handing him food. Snack after snack.

At first, he’d accepted. Hesitantly. His kids would appreciate the treats later. And every time he took one, the League would beam at him, radiant, as though the sun itself had decided to settle on their faces.

But his belt could only hold so much.

He tried declining. He really did.

Then Wonder Woman gave him a look—wide-eyed, crushed—the exact expression Dick had once used when he’d first moved in. And against all sense, he caved, taking the food just to make the look go away. 

Which is why he was now up in the rafters, hiding.

“He’s stealing my tablet again!” Flash’s voice rang out below. Batman glanced down, watching the speedster storm over to Superman.

“Again?” Superman frowned, rubbing his chin as if this were a great mystery. “Maybe we should… ask him why?”

Finally, they were getting the hint. Batman was done tolerating the useless picture-only reports. So now, at every meeting, he made a point of swiping Flash’s tablet. Whether it was straight from his hands mid-scroll or swapping the pads before Flash arrived. 

It definitely was not targeted. Of course not. It was simply because Flash had the misfortune of sitting next to him.

He slipped silently back into the meeting room, cape brushing against the chair as he settled down like he had never moved. Perfectly normal.

It wasn’t long before Superman and Flash entered the room together. Superman carried two tablets, one in each hand like a parent trying to stop a sibling feud. His smile was too bright.

“Batman!” Superman greeted warmly, striding toward him. “We have a question for you.”

He set the two tablets down directly in front of Bruce.

Batman’s eyes narrowed. He let his gaze drift down to the devices, then slowly rose back up to meet the two men standing over him.

Superman glanced at Flash. Flash tilted his head back at Superman. Neither wanted to be the first to continue.

“Why do you keep stealing my tablet?” Flash blurted out. 

Batman simply blinked, a bit thrown off by the lack of tack Flash had. But he should’ve expected that. He turned his attention back to the identical tablets in front of him. The answer was obvious. Did he really have to spell it out?

Maybe if he dangled the line just a little further, they’d finally catch on.

Silence stretched across the table. Superman shifted like he wanted to step in, but Flash—buzzing with nervous energy—barreled forward.

“Like—every time! I turn around, poof! Gone! And I would really, really like to understand the reports, you know?!”

Yeah. So would he. That was the entire problem.

Batman exhaled slowly through his nose. He forced down the urge to drag a hand down his face. Instead, he reached toward the tablets. Both men leaned in, eyes locked on the motion, anticipation hanging in the air.

Bruce paused, hovering just above the right tablet—the one displaying nothing but crude stick figures and diagrams. He lifted his hand, met their eyes, and deliberately traced an invisible X above the screen.

Superman and Flash tilted their heads in perfect unison. Confused. Almost… cute, if it weren’t so infuriating.

He repeated the motion, slower this time. 

Superman’s face drained of color. His eyes darted from the tablet to Batman, back again. “Oh, no. Oh gosh. I thought—I thought I was being accommodating!”

How was a picture report supposed to be an accommodation? That would only make sense if they thought he couldn’t read–

They thought he couldn’t read. 

This League might actually be hopeless.

“I’ll make sure you get written reports from now on,” Superman said quickly, offering a wobbly smile that practically bled guilt.

“Oh,” Flash blinked, then perked up like the solution fixed everything. “Cool. But you owe me a tablet cover. You scratched mine last time.”

Batman didn’t even dignify that with an answer. He simply reached out, slid one of the tablets toward himself, and turned it on.

Conversation over.

—

• Seems to hoard food items rather than consume them himself. Possible catching instinct.
  [Added by Wonder Woman]

 

 

     - HE CAN READ! WE WERE WRONG!! [Added by The Flash]

 

 

Notes:

Hal: Should we… leave a note?
Barry: What kind of note?
Hal: I dunno, “Hey Batman, please stop being spooky and come talk to us”?
Batman: appears out of the shadows holding a folded note
Oliver: …Did he just bring his own note?

Barry: You can’t just hand me a lollipop every time you scare me.
Batman: chirps and hands him another
Barry: …This doesn’t feel like discipline. This feels like positive reinforcement.

Oliver: Wait, wait. Everyone shut up.
Oliver: points at Batman holding the little girl protectively
Oliver: Tell me that’s not the cutest nightmare I’ve ever seen.

Hal: Why’s he up in the rafters again?
Barry: He’s hiding from the snacks.
Hal: …You mean us.
Barry: No, the snacks.

Barry: Okay, but like… just to be extra sure—Batman, can you read this word? [points at his soda cup]
Batman: [stares at him. Then, deadpan] “Caution: contents may cause terminal stupidity.”
Barry: …that’s not what it says.

Barry: I swear, he’s just messing with us.
Clark: What do you mean?
Barry: Every time I say “Marco,” he whispers “Polo” in my ear and then vanishes again.

Hal: Okay. Serious question. What if—hear me out—there are baby Batmans out there.
Barry: …Like bite-sized.
Batman: from the rafters “They bite full-sized.”

Sometimes, I fear that the chapters will start to become less funny and get stripped down to its barest bones. But then I remember I'm writing for myself and I'm the funniest person alive. I'm so much bigger then numbers

Though, this chapter could have used more
More what? I don't know...just more.
I'll let you know when I figure it out

Okay but honestly though, all your comments make me realize that I am funnier than I believe. I really thought my jokes were only okay, but so many of you have told me that I made you laugh out loud and well, that makes me smile
I giggle like a school girl when I read your comments so thank you!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of How, exactly, do you tell the Justice League you weren’t a feral cryptid haunting Gotham?