Chapter Text
Bruce strode into his office, the door closing behind him with a squeak. He adjusted the hands on the grandfather clock until it showed 10:47, silent it opened, revealing the hidden elevator. As he descended into the Cave, Bruce massaged his temples preemptively—this briefing would not be stress-free.
When the elevator doors slid open, the usual cacophony of his family greeted him. Sometimes Bruce wondered which was louder: his extended family or an actual flock of aggravated birds and bats.
“I have an announcement to make regarding our family,” he said once he reached the Batcomputer and had everyone’s attention.
Savoring the last moment of silence, Bruce continued, “In a few hours, a new kid will arrive at the manor. I’ll be fostering him for the foreseeable future.”
Sweet silence.
“What the fuck, Bruce? Again?”
“Haha! I knew it. Pay up, Tim.”
“That is unacceptable, Father.”
Bruce sighed. His reputation really worked against him—especially when, for once, none of this was his fault.
He opened a file on the Batcomputer and projected an image of a muscular teenager with jet-black hair and sea-green eyes for all to see.
“This is Perseus Jackson. He’s a cousin of mine. His mother died a few months ago, and his father is unknown. As his last living relative, I’ve agreed to take him in.” He clenched his jaw slightly—maybe no one would ask the question.
“That could’ve been a text in the group chat. You’re hiding something. What is it?” Of course, it would be Tim to notice what wasn’t said.
Bruce folded his arms. “I’m investigating Perseus because there’s a strong possibility he’s involved in an international cult with terrorist inclinations. While he’s here, our mission is to gather as much information as we can about his connections—and help him get out.”
Now he had their undivided attention. Even though he couldn’t see her, Bruce knew Barbara was watching from her station.
“Since he was twelve, Perseus has vanished every summer for weeks—sometimes months—at a time. During those periods, he’s been spotted across the United States, often near scenes of property damage involving explosions or fires. In recent years, he’s also been found in parts of Europe—seemingly appearing out of nowhere before disappearing again—and wherever he goes, destruction follows. Numerous official investigations have been launched, including a nationwide manhunt a few years ago, but each one was abruptly shut down by higher authorities. I’ve been unable to trace where those shutdown orders are coming from.”
Bruce finished. His children sat silently before him, no doubt processing every detail. Tim was already typing away on his tablet, likely digging for more data.
“Wait a minute, old man,” Jason broke the tension, a grin on his face. “Does this mean I finally get to be the morally superior brother?”
“Jason!”
“Oh, come on. We’re fostering a potential child soldier from a creepy cult—so what? It’s not like it’d be the first time. Only this one’s less assassin and more terrorist. That’s progress in my book.”
Bruce cleared his throat to interrupt his children before they could lose themselves in bickering.
“We’re fortunate that Perseues seems to have direct contact with the cult primarily during the summer. The rest of the year, he appears to be a normal—albeit troubled—student. We need to give him a solid support system so he’s less likely to resist us if we attempt to separate him from the cult.”
“Do we have any information on the cult? Known members? Their beliefs?” Tim asked, already halfway into a search.
“We know concerningly little,” Bruce replied. “Most of the members wear orange T-shirts—or, more recently, purple ones. We haven’t been able to identify most of them, except that they all appear to be teenagers. However, two individuals seen repeatedly with Perseues have been confirmed. One is Leo Valdez—a known arsonist and suspected mad scientist. The other is Clarisse La Rue, daughter of a small-time mob boss from Texas.”
Behind Bruce, two images appeared on the Batcomputer screen. One showed a wiry, elf-like boy with outstretched hands, small metallic spheres floating in midair, a fiery explosion behind him. The other depicted a broad-shouldered, fierce-looking girl wielding a baseball bat. Both wore the signature orange T-shirts.
“How is his standing in the family, Father? And will he be a danger to us?” Damian asked.
Still so insecure while also so protective. Bruce felt a familiar pang of pride—how far Damian had come from the angry, lost child who once stood on his doorstep.
“Perseues has never shown aggression toward civilians. I don’t believe he’ll act against us—at least, not while we are not at in mask. As for our nighttime activities, he won’t be informed. Not until we know if we can trust him.”
“…”
“Five bucks says he finds out in under three months.”
“One Batburger meal Dickwing ends up exposing us again.“
“Hey!”