Chapter Text
A week ago…
Ice dug into your bones, biting into every inch of you. The lab floor was cold, as always. Shivers racked you, sending shudders down your spine. Why did the cell always have to be so cold? Probably to keep the environment more sterile. Small puffs of breath appeared in the air as you sang to yourself.
“If a sparrow sings a song, someone will listen; it won’t be long…” the lullaby’s words echoed off the empty room’s walls, the only thing to keep you company. “No matter storm or sun, it will sing its tune until it can fly and touch the moon.”
Singing the songs seemed silly, but they were a reminder that you were alive. A space to fill the countless quiet nights alone. The cell was lonely enough, only consisting of four white walls, a blanket in the corner, and the control panel where the scientist would keep a check on your vitals. There was a space in the corner with a strange bowl for using the bathroom, which would stay mysteriously clean.
This has been your room for how long now? The days drew on long here, until they all became a blur. Things were always quiet, eerily so. If your calculations were correct, you have been at the lab for about two years now. As far as you knew, it was located somewhere in the woods, miles out from the city. Trying to remember anything was practically useless. The scientists had ensured that most of your memories were gone. Guess something won’t run away if it has nothing to miss.
Memories had become spotty, like a movie, glitching in and out. Some were sharp, vivid, and clear, and others felt like trying to see underwater. No matter how hard you reached for them, they seemed to slip through your fingers like stardust, forgotten.
The sound of the busy streets at night, full of sirens and voices. Lights outside your window. Cinnamon and sugar in the kitchen. Stars in the sky, somewhere far from the glow of Gotham. Parents.
Even if you couldn’t remember their faces, there was an imprint of warmth left in the gaping hole in your memory where they should be- a feeling distinctly of home. Home. If you could have anything, it would be a home. A real one.
The words of one of the scientists floated back into your memory: “Stop struggling! Nobody is ever coming to get you! If even your own family didn’t want you, then who would?”
What if they had lied about your family giving you to them? It wouldn’t be surprising at this point. Part of you hoped they were lying, because at least that meant home was somewhere beyond these walls.
Lies are often sweeter than bitter truths.
Humming, you returned to an old melody, pushing his words away. Anything to keep from going insane in here. They felt self-soothing, calming you down after days like today. Days of being hooked up to one of those machines for hours, forced to listen to their orders and unable to do anything about it. Your fingers curled around the inside of your arm, where bruises were scattered from the injections given today. The spots stung, burning the spot on your wrist as you scratched.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, startling you back into reality. One, two, three…
The air left your lungs as your chest tightened, making the cell seem smaller. Those steps, you knew them. You had memorized each scientist’s walking pattern over the years.
Dr. Ollson? Usually, he only showed up once a week. Why would he be here now?
Click. Click. Click. Each lock on the heavy metal door was unlocked as the passkey was entered- a safety precaution. Standing in the doorway was no more than a shadow in a lab coat.
“Project X, Experiment 0217. Alive, vitals normal,” he noted aloud as he stepped inside the cell, the door shutting behind him. “How are you feeling today?”
As usual, his tone was cold, calculated, with not a hint of remorse. To him, you were nothing more than data points on a sheet.
“Wonderful,” you responded sarcastically before snapping. “How do you think?”
“I never liked experiments that bite back,” he responded, voice clipped. “Things would be a lot easier if you would just cooperate with us. Now come here.”
You didn’t move. Glaring, you stared back at him unflinchingly. If looks could kill, then there would probably be a murder scene right here and now with the stare you were giving him.
No, not today. Not ever. They could take your name, but they could never own you.
Dr. Ollson narrowed his gaze at you as his tone lowered, sharper this time, “I gave you an order, Project X. Now. Come. Here.”
“I have a name, you know,” you scoffed.
He raised an eyebrow, “Do you even remember it?”
Glancing away, you looked down at the numbers on your wrist, tracing them carefully- 0217. A name. That had been the first thing they had erased from your memory. Those digits were the only thing close to having one.
“That’s what I thought,” he said bluntly. “Keep in mind, we take care of you, and we can take that care away at any moment, so I’d suggest being more appreciative from now on.” Why would he even threaten that? By now, you were well aware they pulled all the strings.
“Someone’s out there looking for me, and they’ll find me one day,” you threatened, even if it was a weak one. A foolish hope you held onto despite the truth. There had to be someone who missed you, right? Maybe someone was looking. “One day, they’ll find me, and you’ll regret this. The police will find out! Batman may find this place.”
Dr. Ollson seemed unaffected by the idea of Batman.
“Don’t tell me you truly believe that?” he asked. “We’ve taken enough measures that nobody will find this, or Project X. I doubt those idiots working for Gordon ever will. As for Batman? By the time he found this place, we should have you ready to take care of him.”
Looking back down at his tablet, he tapped his pen against it, going over the routine questions.
“Are you in any pain right now?”
“Obviously.”
“What is 2+2?”
“Seriously? My brain is not damaged. Give me something worth my time next time.”
“Why are you here?”
“To further the study of metahumans and further science by participating in Project X.”
The safe answer. The expected one, even if none of this was voluntary.
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer,” he scolded. “What is your name?”
“My name is Project X, Experiment 0217.”
Dr. Ollson went on, voice full of fake praise and condescension, “Remember, that name makes you special. It’s one nobody else has because they are not as special as you.” There was a mock softness in the way he said it, as if talking to an animal you were trying to coax into a cage. The scientists always did that, trying to make you feel safer than you were.
Crouching, he met your eye level as you continued to glare back at him. “You’re my greatest work, my legacy.” Reaching a hand out, you flinched as he got closer, pulling away in fear.
“One day, you’ll change the entire world,” he declared, tone cold. “Now come here. I still haven’t administered today’s dosage.”
Again, you refused to move. Pure anger was written across his face as he muttered, “Don’t make me repeat myself, I’m not a patient man. Project X is designed to listen and respond to orders as any good weapon should.”
A fist curled at your side as you looked down at the floor, staring at it. A weapon. All you were was someone to be told what to do and ordered about since you got here. Easy? Of course you had considered taking the easy way out. Sitting back and doing nothing would be less painful, but then it meant they would win, which would never happen on your watch. Fighting was the only thing you had left, the only thing you lived for. A long time ago, you realized nobody was coming to help you. Not the police. Not the Justice League. Not even your own family. So, you would have to save yourself.
A sound echoed off the walls, tearing you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until you felt the stinging on your cheek you realized it was from him slapping you. Touching it gingerly, you realized a bruise was already forming.
Looking up, you gave him another icy stare as you struggled to get to your feet. Dr. Ollson gripped your hair, tugging it and forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he ordered, tightening his grip. It stung, but you refused to shed a tear. People like him wanted a reaction more than anything, so you stayed as quiet as possible. Giving him the satisfaction wasn’t worth it.
You hated eye contact. The way it gave him and the other scientists some sort of power trip. It felt as if he were trying to see into your soul, yet you kept your stare unwavering, hoping it would show even an ounce of the hatred you felt for him.
Lights flickered in and out as a familiar warmth grew at your fingertips. A light blue spark flowed from them, threatening to ignite. A hint of fear crossed his face for only a moment when he noticed. Anger rose in you. No, not rage. Something much more specific, you couldn’t quite place yet.
“How many times do I have to do this?” he yelled. The facade of the clinical, controlled scientist began to slip. Whenever he began to lose his grip, only horrible things followed.
“Things would be so much easier if you would just! Just…be quiet.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, his fist shaking as he grabbed your collar in a tight grip. Struggling, you kicked at him, trying to pull away frantically. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, training would have taken over. Before you could grab him, he snatched your wrist, snuffing out the glow. Tightening his hold on your wrist, he threatened, “I can quiet you for good, you know.”
Pain stabbed through your wrist as he tightened even more, sending shockwaves down your arm.
“You can’t kill me,” you reminded him, hoping it was true. “You need me. I’m the only one with the DNA to do this. You said so yourself.” It was a bluff, but maybe it would buy you some time.
“There are other ways of shutting people up. As far as anyone knows, you are already dead, even to your family. Face it, you’re no more than a ghost to anyone, so there’s no point in fighting anymore because nobody is looking,” he seethed. “Now will you be good for once?”
Good? No, you were done with being good a long time ago. Being good had brought you here and etched your name into a gravestone above an empty plot.
“Stubborn,” he muttered to himself, reaching for the familiar vial in his pocket. Nope. Not today, not again.
“Does this answer your question?” you asked before sinking your teeth into his hand. You stumbled to the floor as he let go of your wrist, screaming. Pulling away, he held onto his hand as the blood dribbled, spreading across the white of his lab coat. An alarm rang down the halls of the lab.
Alert! Subject violent! Security alert!
“Enough,” he ordered. “It’s time for you to be quiet, bird.”
The air seemed colder somehow. Your eyes widened in recognition, and he caught it.
“What? Did you think we didn’t know about the singing?” Dr. Ollson asked flatly. “Touching, really. We monitor everything, including the inside of this cell and everything you do in it.”
Pointing a gloved finger to your throat, he added, “According to the procedure, there’s no reason for Project X to be able to speak, technically speaking. It would be easy to take care of.”
Each word hit sharper than the last. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if you could breathe as a million thoughts raced through your mind.
“I’ll give you until security arrives to change your attitude, and if you make the right choice, maybe a weapon who can speak will suddenly be useful.”
No. They couldn’t take it away! They had taken everything from you, and they wouldn’t get any more.
No. No. No.
A rush of warmth spread to your hand as a blue glow ebbed from your fingertips. There was a vibration in the air, making everything seem static. Fire tingled underneath your skin, spreading into your chest.
Too many thoughts filled your head, as too many feelings took over you, you would never begin to be able to name. All you wanted was for it to stop!
There was a sudden burst of light before everything went dark inside the cell.
Dr. Ollson froze mid-step, staring at you. His eyes widened a moment as if he were seeing a ghost, then he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Wait, what just happened?
The door opened to reveal five guards standing, staring in horror at the scene. One of the guards began to raise a weapon before the other held up a hand, stopping them. They stopped down, picking up Dr. Ollson’s limp wrist and holding it a moment. “Dead,” he confirmed.
Dead? No, he couldn’t be dead, right? You had only wanted him to leave you alone, for the pain to stop.
Everyone turned, looking at you with a newfound sense of fear. A few of the other researchers followed behind and saw what had happened. One shrieked as another vomited the moment they saw it. Mostly, they stood in silence, as if finally realizing what they had made. All you could do was stare at the lifeless body, unable to move.
“Why won’t the locks work?” one of them asked in a panic. “The emergency controls haven’t come on yet!”
Their voices faded away, becoming murkier as you sat in shock.
“Blackout.” One of them said as another answered, “Until we can fix the security system, we’ll have to sedate it.”
“Defective.” “Terminate.” “Another failure.”
“The blackout will give our location, so we should pack up the evidence.”
“What about it?”
“Just leave it! If Dr. Ollson is dead, there’s nobody left to lead the project anymore!”
“Won’t it…die?”
“The world is better off with that thing dead anyway.”
“No, we need to keep it alive. Move on to Phase 2.”
A sharp pain filled your neck from a needle as your vision blurred, sinking into the floor. Trying to cling to consciousness, you fought to stay awake even as your body felt as if it were floating. The last thing you remembered was feeling like a bird, flying through an endless sky where there were no cages, no sharp needles, and no more tests.
One day, I’ll grow wings and fly far away from here…
Then everything went dark. Maybe, when you opened your eyes, you would be home, and this would all be a nightmare. At least, that’s what you told yourself for now.
Gotham City- Present.
The air of Gotham City was always thick with secrets. Tonight was no different as Tim peered over the edge of the rooftop, focused on the apartment door in the alleyway below. A small cat passed by, dragging a leftover Batburger wrapper into the corners of the alley. Mentally, he noted to let Selina know he had seen a stray. They had a sort of system where he’d notify her of any street cats for her to take care of.
So far, Project X had only led to more questions than answers. One thing Tim didn’t like was not having answers. Knowing was sort of his entire thing, and when he couldn’t find any, well, it made him feel nearly useless. If he couldn’t do the one thing he was great at, then what use was he? Did he even deserve this cape?
“Focus,” he reminded himself, “Keep an eye on the target.”
At this point, he was probably sleep-deprived. For the past 20 hours or so, he had tried to theorize every possible explanation for Project X. Why was it related to the blackout? Could it be a rogue’s experiment gone wrong? Why here, in Gotham, of all places? Barbara hadn’t been able to find too much information over the past few days except for a few paper trails here and there that only led to more dead ends. The only lead they had found was why he was here in the first place - A Dr. Steve Jones who mysteriously moved from a research center at Metropolis University to Gotham City under a new name after losing his job. Why would the leading scientist in metahuman research lose everything? Nothing about it added up. Unless, of course, he decided to work on a classified experiment.
Tim was familiar with his work, doing one of his middle school papers on his research into the genetics of metahumans.
“Any signs of the target yet?” he asked over the comms.
Oracle spoke up, “Right now, he’s still at the coffee shop, so you should be in the clear. According to the security footage, he usually spends at least three hours there on Saturdays. Never thought I’d see anyone who likes coffee more than you.”
“So you drink a bunch of coffee one time during an all-nighter, and suddenly everyone makes it your entire personality,” Tim said sarcastically. “It’s really getting old, guys.”
Dick’s voice came through, “Aw, but it’s fun to buy you coffee mugs every Christmas.”
“Nightwing?” Dick asked, eyes wide, “What are you doing there? I thought you were still in Bludhaven.”
“Decided to stop by and give Oracle a visit,” Dick answered with a hint of tease. There was a small thwack as Barbara must have shoved him. “Fine, fine, I’ll focus on the mission. So who’s this scientist we’re looking for anyway?”
Tim explained, “We’re looking for a Dr. Jones. When metahumans began becoming more common, he did research on the genetic components. It was revolutionary at the time and gave us a clearer understanding of the DNA structures between metahumans and non-metahumans, making him head of research at MU.” He paused a moment. “Then his theories led him to becoming a quack to most when he suggested psychic abilities.”
“Wait, so let me get this straight. We live in a world where aliens exist, and literal magic, but scientists drew the line at psychic abilities?” Dick asked.
“It was because he suggested non-metahumans could have them. A few of his colleagues even said he had theories about gaining abilities at will.”
There was a long silence, but everyone was now thinking the same thing about Project X.
“Where are the others?” Tim asked, hoping to change the subject.
Oracle answered, “B is inspecting the power company for any answers to the blackout and possible connections. Signal is on his usual patrol, and Batgirl and Robin are speaking with Commissioner Gordon right now to see if there are any connections between the smuggling routes I found.”
“Let me know if there’s any new info. I’m going to go ahead and take a look around the apartment, see if I can find anything.” Tim quietly leaped onto the fire escape below, made his way down the steps to the apartment window, and tried it. Unlocked? That was odd. Sliding it open, he crept inside as darkness greeted him. Quietly, he walked through the apartment, keeping an eye out for any clues or evidence. The apartment was fairly small, with only a bedroom and a dining area across from a bathroom. Yet, the thing that stood out the most was how plain it was, as if someone were using it as a place to hide away rather than live in.
No pictures. No decor. Not even one attempt to make it look like someone normal was living here. For a genius, the guy hadn’t even tried to hide under a new identity well. Unless, of course, he didn’t have plans to stay in this place for long.
Carefully, he traced his fingers along the wall, under the furniture, and in the drawers, looking for any sort of hidden compartments. A false bottom, maybe? Anything!
Unfortunately, there were no electronics in the place either, so hacking into them wasn’t an option.
“Where are you hiding?” he muttered to himself, scanning the rooms. No good scientist would have zero copies of their work, so there had to be something about Project X. Anything out of place at all could be a clue. Finally, his eyes landed on the mugs lined up on the shelf above the kitchen sink. Each of them had a blue pattern, except for the third, which had a green one. There’s no way it would be that easy, right?
Reaching inside, he pulled out a small hard drive. “Seriously? That was way too easy,” he grumbled. Way too easy. Almost suspiciously easy. Had Dr. Jones wanted someone to find out about the Project? If so, why?
“I’ve got what we were looking for,” Tim spoke into the comms. “I’ll bring it back right now, and once we take a look at it, we can have the police handle the rest.”
“Good,” Oracle said. “I’ve found evidence that the smuggling was bringing scientific equipment to an undisclosed location a few miles outside of the city through the ports. I’m sure that’s where the lab should be, which means Project X. Now to see exactly what it is.”
The Batcave - two hours later
Ever since the blackout, Bruce hadn’t been able to get his mind off it. It followed him, like a shadow, festering every thought. There was something off about the whole thing, and now this strange lab? In his gut, he knew something big was about to happen, but what? Not to mention, he had gotten only a few hours of sleep each night since then.
“Heloooo?” Duke waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Barbara asked you a question.”
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “Haven’t had much sleep lately. What were you saying?”
“Where’s Jason?” she asked with a hint of annoyance. “I requested he be here.”
“I think Bruce is the last person Jason would listen to,” Dick scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “Why do we all need to be here anyway? This isn’t an everyone-escaped Arkham kind of threat anyway.” Clearly, he was still upset that whatever plans he and Barbara had for tonight were canceled.
Dick did have a point. When the entire family was around a table together, it usually meant either a rare chance that they all sat down to enjoy Alfred’s cooking or that something was very wrong.
“I’ve reviewed the hard drive Tim found today, and this is much bigger than we could have expected,” Barbara explained, voice more tense than usual. “We’re going to need all the help we can get. Too bad he couldn’t be here. I was hoping one of his own leads may be connected to this.”
Everyone exchanged worried glances, the air in the cave shifting.
Bruce furrowed his brow, asking, “What do you mean? How serious is this?”
She hesitated a moment, opening her laptop. “Most of the files are encrypted, and I haven’t been able to hack into them yet. If I can’t even get into them, then they’re hiding something they don’t want anyone to find. What I have found is probably much more serious than we thought. Project X isn’t any normal experiment.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow, “Not normal? How exactly?”
Barbara sighed, “Let me explain it from the start, and I’ll tell you everything Tim and I have figured out for now.”
The Batcomputer’s screen lit up, several files popping up full of notes, shipping routes, and profiles all labeled “Experiments.”
Barbara moved her chair closer to the computer, pointing to the first file, which was a list of locations, supplies, and a few screenshots of emails.
“When I tried tracing the source of the blackout, I began noticing a history of large electricity surges somewhere outside the city. The more I looked, I started picking up a pattern of items being smuggled through Gotham’s underground.” She pointed. “Chemicals, expensive tech, and scientific equipment. Everything you would need for a lab. As far as I know, there are a few crime rings involved, but I haven’t identified which ones yet.”
So it was a lab, or at least, someone running experiments. Why would that cause a blackout?
Cassandra spoke up, “Do you think it could be Black Mask?”
“What would Black Mask want with an experiment?” Damian spoke up.
“He would want something to do with it if it involved money,” Bruce answered. “Or something even better on his end of the deal. We know the crime rings have connections with every rogue in the city, so it could be anyone.”
“Are we sure it isn’t Scarecrow with some sort of new fear toxin?” Dick asked. “What about Joker Venom?”
“I’ve already looked over the list of materials that were being smuggled,” Tim answered, looking down at a pile of notes. “None of the chemicals are found in the formulas for Joker venom of fear toxin. I even accounted for new versions, but the basic components aren’t there.”
“Are we sure LexCorp isn’t involved?” Duke suggested. “If this is about metahumans, then that sounds like something Luthor would do. We know how obsessed he is with us. Maybe we should contact Clark-”
“No,” Bruce cut him off. “We don’t need to involve any members of the League unless this escalates.” Admittedly, he didn’t want to deal with Superman at the moment unless necessary. At the last JLA meeting, they had gotten into an argument, and the Kryptonian hadn’t spoken to him since.
Tim rolled his eyes, “Oracle already searched through LexCorp’s entire database and didn’t find one mention of a Project X.”
“Then the question is, who’s doing this?” Bruce wondered aloud. A muscle fluttered in his jaw, eyes narrowed on the screen. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
“I’m not sure of everyone who is involved,” Barbara admitted, pulling up a new file. “We confirmed that Dr. Jones was involved, and I’ve already sent in a tip to my father to go to his apartment. He was put under investigation an hour ago. Just take a look at this.”
Project X - Experiment 0217 - Status: Ongoing
Purpose: To utilize the abilities of metahumans to their fullest extent and push the capabilities of human beings. Testing the hypothesis surrounding the possibilities of metahuman DNA mutation, psychic abilities, and energy conversion.
Current status: Ongoing and successful
Previous failures: 20
Previous subjects: 20
Previous subjects: Terminated
Stage: Phase 1
Subject information:
Gender: Female
Species: Metahuman - Telepathic
Health history: Details unknown. Blood presents with the desired mutation for the experiment.
Temperament: Violent/ Agressive/Noncompliant
Observed abilities
- Heightened senses
- Telepathy
- Energy conversion
- Mind - connections
- Energy absorption
June 14th
Note: The subject seems to be growing stronger than originally expected. Can change and adjust energy, matter, and other materials on a sub-atomic level through a mind connection. These energy levels are becoming increasingly high in a controlled setting. The reason for the increase in power is unknown. Several unexpected outcomes and variables have grown in the past few months, and there is a chance that Project X is becoming unstable. At this rate, the weapon could do more than expected if we can stabilize it. More observation will be needed.
Further study will determine if the plan is ready to move on to the next phase.
June 29th - Subject in need of Termination
June 30th - Change of plans - Phase 2 is now in process
The cave fell silent as everyone stared at the file, the words seeming to stare back.
Sitting up a bit straighter, Bruce squared his shoulders as he read the file over and over again. Human experimentation? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen things more grim before. This was Gotham after all, but how long had this been going on under their noses? How many people had died? Project X was a threat, and a much larger one than expected. Not to mention the subject was unstable. The gut feeling had proven to be right all along, confirming the worst.
Damian was the first one to speak, “It appears to me they were trying to create some sort of weapon, but for what?”
Tim’s eyes widened, full of surprise and concern, as he connected the dots. “Project X, what must have caused the blackout!” he exclaimed, already scribbling down a few notes. “I knew there was a connection, but there’s still so much that doesn’t add up. What are they doing with the chemicals being smuggled? What sort of abilities could handle that high level of energy? Nothing here makes sense.”
“So that,” Duke pointed to the screen, “Is what caused the blackout? How could one person cause an entire city to shut down?! That’s insane!”
“That’s what I would like to know,” Bruce replied in a low voice. “I agree with Tim. Nothing about this adds up yet. We should look into this further before we go to the lab. Whoever is behind this could be much more dangerous than expected.”
“The real question is, for who?” Dick asked, voice tinged with unease. Nobody answered. Duke shifted in his seat, staring down at his hands instead. Cassandra noticed, putting a hand on his shoulder with a soft smile.
“I’m not sure,” Barbara admitted. “I’m going to try to take the hard drive to the Clock Tower and see if I can dig into this any further. Until then, I’ll have Tim see if he can find any more leads on the case. The police should be questioning Dr. Stevens as we speak.”
“I’ll begin preparing to investigate the lab,” Bruce began. “We’ll need to find as much evidence as we can and see if there are any remaining survivors until we can locate Project X.”
Dick stretched, “I’ve got nothing better to do. Bludhaven is doing well, as well as good as Bludhaven can get, so I’ll be there.”
“No,” Bruce said in that tone that left no room for argument. “I’ll handle this one on my own. If those files are true, then Project X is unstable. I’m not risking any of you getting hurt.”
Damian crossed his arms, scowling. “Father, I’ve faced plenty of far more dangerous opponents before,” he insisted. “Need I remind you I’m a League-trained assassin, or has your old age caused your memory to become worse?” Despite the tension in the air, Dick snorted a little at the joke.
Bruce let out a long sigh. “I’m well-aware of your training, Damian, but we have no idea what we would be walking into. If they have telepathic abilities, it may take more than regular combat to disarm them.”
“Tsk” Damian looked away stubbornly. “Last week, I helped you arrest a man who controls people’s minds with hats, but I can’t help now?”
Tim agreed reluctantly, “As much as I hate to agree with him right now, he has a point. There’s safety in numbers, and it would make more sense if we investigated together.” Cassandra nodded in agreement. “Besides, we’ve faced crazy plant ladies, a guy who creates blizzards, and a psychotic clown.”
Duke counted off, adding, “Not to mention Killer Moth and Scarecrow, so I think we can handle this.”
“Don’t we work better as a team?” Dick reminded, smiling warmly like Bruce. “How many times do we have to remind you that pushing us away only makes it worse. If things get too dangerous, we’ll contact the League.”
For a moment, he almost considered the possibility, then the memories hit him at once, each one sharper than the last. Every single time, they returned, no matter how hard he tried to push them out.
Dick injured for the first time after patrol. Stephanie in tears. Barbara, in a hospital bed, being told she would never be able to walk again. Jason…always Jason. Even now, the scent of metal and blood filled his nose from the remains of the explosion.
Squeezing his eyes shut for only a moment, he took a deep breath and forced the memories to the back of his mind. Whenever he was planning a mission, he remembered the possibilities of what could happen. The past did have a way of holding on, clawing its way to the present. After all, what was now rather than the things of the past falling into place? Those were the reasons he wore the mask, why he kept fighting in the first place.
Yet, if he saw someone else he cared for get hurt, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going.
“I’m not risking your safety,” Bruce urged. “That’s final. I’ll leave Alfred to keep an eye on all of you, and report to me if any of you even step foot outside the manor.”
He got up to leave then paused, for a moment. “Don’t even think about sneaking out or bribing Alfred. I know what happened last time.” Then he left without another word.
They all exchanged knowing glances. “We’re following him, aren’t we?” Dick asked.
“Definitely,” Duke agreed, jumping to his feet and taking off to his room before being stopped by a very stern butler.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Alfred questioned, giving him one of his signature stares. “I should hope it’s not off to some dangerous mission?”
“What? Of course not,” Duke fumbled. “I was just going to watch a movie. Yeah, a movie…and we all were, right?”
Obviously, Alfred saw right through the lie easily. After all, he had helped raise quite a few teenage vigilantes.
“Next time, at least respect me enough to come up with a better excuse than that,” Alfred said dryly. “You’re practically insulting my intelligence.”
Dick stood up, “Bruce is about to go on a dangerous mission all by himself! How many times have you told us we work better together?”
“Father’s judgment is rarely wrong, but he’s clearly miscalculated this time,” Damian huffed.
Alfred sighed. Of course, he had gone alone, as usual. When would he ever learn?
“I’m sorry, but Master Wayne gave me specific instructions not to let any of you leave the manor for the time being.” Then he added a bit more coyly, “Now I’m going to go have my evening tea in the drawing room, which will keep me occupied for the next twenty minutes. I doubt any of you would have the chance to leave before your father does anything he’ll regret later, correct?”
Dick winked, “Of course! That would be impossible.”
“As I thought,” he gave a short nod. “Now I’ll be taking tea, and I trust none of you will try anything.” Alfred hid a slight smile as he left the cave.
By some miracle, Bruce had raised some very good kids, which was ironic since he seemed to never get him raised. Honestly, he needed to retire someday or another. It wasn’t as if there would be any more new members of the family, right? Oh, who was he kidding? One day or another, Bruce would bring in another one. For a man who seemed to have the emotional range of a brick, he did have a soft spot for strays. His mind wandered back to the conversation from days ago as he poured his tea. Maybe, if he did add a member to the family, it wouldn’t be so bad after all.