(Damian's P.O.V)
Jason's apartment looked even worse than before—broken glass still on the floor, furniture barely standing, a dried pool of blood by the hallway door. We'd just stepped back in, trying to gather ourselves after the diner mess, when I made a straight line for the fridge.
Empty. Mostly.
One last can of Pringles sat at the top shelf.
Mine.
I popped the lid and leaned against the fridge door, already crunching down on a sour cream and onion chip.
"Please," Jason said from the corner, arms crossed. "Don't even pretend you live here."
"I'm not pretending," I said, licking salt off my fingers. "I do live here now. This place has character."
Cassandra kicked the broken door shut behind us, her steps sharp, her rage practically boiling off her skin.
She wasn't looking at Jason. She wasn't looking at the trashed apartment.
She was looking at me.
The next second, a sword—her sword—was at my neck.
"Nice to see you too," I said, still chewing.
She glared. "You. Should've. Let. Me. Kill. Him."
"Talking about Richard?" I tilted my head toward her blade, not flinching. "You mean the guy who outclassed you without breaking a sweat?"
"He was the target," she snarled. "And you stopped me!"
"Oh, please," I scoffed, reaching up and gently tapping the blade with a chip. "Your mission was not to kill Richard Dragon."
"THE MISSION NO LONGER MATTERS!"
That stopped me.
"Why?"
She didn't answer. Just kept growling at me like a kitten. A very pissed off kitten. It was cute.
Jason sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. "Alright, both of you, stop. Cass, sword down. Damian, shut your mouth for one second."
She didn't lower the sword, but her hands trembled.
Jason continued, stepping between us, "Her mission was to find whoever's been disrupting League of Shadows operations in Gotham alright? Extortion, supply chain hits, underground routes collapsing. We traced it back to the Court of Owls."
I blinked.
"Wait." I held up a chip. "You mean the same Court I just wiped off the face of the earth?"
Jason pointed a thumb at me. "Exactly that one."
I smirked and turned to Cassandra. "Oh. You're welcome."
Her sword swung—fast. I ducked. She kicked. I blocked. Chips flew.
In seconds, we were brawling, fists and feet slamming into furniture and each other. Jason jumped in to separate us, only to get shoved into the already broken TV stand.
"HEY! I just got that—!"
Cassandra's roundhouse nearly clipped my jaw as I vaulted over the couch.
Her blade missed me but severed the fridge in half.
"Oh come on!" I yelled at her, my frustration shared by Jason's,
"Not the fridge! Anything but the fridge!"
I threw a punch. She caught it with a dark grin, swept my legs, and drove me toward the wall. I twisted midair and landed on the kitchen counter.
She followed.
I ducked another strike, lunged at her ribs, only to get elbowed in the side of the head.
And then—
CRASH.
The living room window exploded inward as a shadow surged through it in a cascade of glass and cape.
Everyone froze.
Except Cassandra. She turned, sword still in hand. I stood on the kitchen counter. Jason dusted himself off from a pile of DVDs.
Friggin Batman straightened in the smoke and rain, a thunderclap sounding behind him.
"You're all under arrest."
His voice was deeper than I remembered. More tired. More pissed off.
"Big trouble," he added, eyes narrowing beneath the cowl.
Then his gaze landed on me.
Yautja helmet still on. Face hidden. Blade tattoos squirming up my arms from the earlier fight.
He didn't recognize me.
I crunched the last Pringle.
"Well," I muttered. "This just got interesting."
Jason, exercising an enviable amount of patience, looked at Cassie and I while raising a hand. "Stand down. Both of you."
Cassandra didn't lower her sword. I didn't drop my relaxed guard.
Jason turned to Batman, his voice cold. "What do you want? You're not exactly welcome here."
Batman didn't flinch. "I'm welcome everywhere. This is Gotham. My city. I don't need permission to intervene—especially when the League of Shadows is making a mess of it."
"We or rather, I clean up more than we mess up," Jason muttered. "Got proof?"
Batman's eyes flicked to him. "You were seen leaving the Owls' hideout hours ago. The place was a slaughterhouse."
"I did that," I said, stepping forward, arms folded.
Jason spun on me. "Seriously?!"
"I killed them," I clarified with zero shame. "They were in the way."
Jason facepalmed. "You 'admitted' it out loud. To 'him'."
Batman stepped toward me. "You're coming with me."
"Make me, Batsy. I dare ya." I said flatly.
I could feel the tension stretch like a drawn wire. Then—
Click.
Jason raised a gun and pointed it at Batman's head. "Not happening, old man. Even you can't win this one."
Batman didn't move. "I didn't come alone."
The door burst open.
Nightwing and Batgirl stormed into the apartment, ready for war.
Cassandra was already on the move. Jason ducked behind the couch for cover, guns drawn.
I didn't hesitate.
I launched straight at Bruce, tackling him through the open window in a blur of motion. We crashed onto the roof of the Batmobile with a metallic THOOM that dented the hood.
I rolled off first and stood. Bruce was already rising to his feet, gripping his side in pain.
"You got weaker." I found myself saying, bothered by the realization.
"Or you got stronger...Damian." He replied, surprising me that he knew my identity.
But we didn't get to go another round.
A circle of lights painted me in red.
All around the alley, flashing blue and white filled the air. The GCPD had arrived in full force. SWAT teams surrounded us. Rifles leveled. Fingers on triggers.
"STAND DOWN!" one of the officers barked. "PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
I glanced up at the building. Cassandra, Jason, Nightwing, and Batgirl were still fighting. And those bullets? They wouldn't bounce off all of them like they would off me.
I clenched my fists.
Mission first.
Cassandra's safety came first.
With a deep breath, I raised my hands. "Alright. Alright. Don't get twitchy."
The officers didn't lower their guns.
I looked at Bruce. "Hope you've got good beds in those cells. I'm so done with this day."
He just stared back in silence, the cowl hiding whatever thoughts brewed behind his eyes.
-0-
The transport van rumbled along the cracked streets of Gotham, the rain hitting its metal roof like impatient fingers drumming in warning. Inside, it was cramped—two bench seats, handcuffs biting into wrists, and the weight of two bad moods simmering in silence. I was just bored.
Jason broke it first. "You do realize we could've just fought our way out, right?"
Cassandra nodded slowly beside him, expression unreadable, but her narrowed eyes spoke volumes. Even in handcuffs, she looked like she was calculating five different escape routes and ten different methods to torture me.
"You really had to go with the surrender plan?" Jason continued, glaring across the van at me.
"I have a plan," I said calmly.
"No," Jason snapped. "You had a fight with Batman. Threw yourself out a window. Then got us all arrested. And now we're in a police van. So tell me, O Mighty Shadow Prodigy, what's the masterstroke here?"
I leaned my head back against the cold metal wall and closed my eyes.
"Just wait. Also buckle up." I murmured.
"Wait?" Cassandra echoed, voice low and tense. "For what? Another moment where you nearly get us killed?"
Jason grunted. "Man, if we weren't cuffed—"
BOOM.
The van lifted.
Not swerved.
Lifted.
A second later, the entire armored vehicle tipped and rolled onto its side with a heavy metallic screech, tossing us violently against the walls. Tires shrieked outside, officers shouted, and then—
Crack.
The rear doors were ripped open like a soda can being peeled.
Clayface's gooey, hulking form filled the frame. Bits of asphalt and broken metal clung to his shoulders like badges of honor.
"Sorry I'm late, boss." Clayface rumbled, his voice low and wet. "Traffic."
Jason blinked. "No freaking way—"
"Told you I had a plan," I said, smiling smugly.
Cassandra was already yanking her cuffs against a jagged metal edge to break them.
"Why is Clayface even here?" Jason asked.
"He's been following us since the diner," I replied, rolling my wrists once the cuffs snapped open under Clayface's sludge.
Cassandra gave me a sharp look. "You ordered him to trail us?"
"In case we got caught. Which we did. So...you're welcome."
Jason muttered something about control freaks and blind trust, but he climbed out of the van all the same, grabbing a dropped stun baton off one of the unconscious guards.
Sirens wailed louder in the distance. And Batman wouldn't be far behind.
Cassandra crouched at the edge of the door, watching the police regroup outside. "What now?"
I adjusted my gloves, then turned to them both.
"Now," I said, "we vanish."
Clayface oozed into the street, knocking aside a police car as we slipped through the shadows behind him and disappeared into the quiet Gotham dawn.
(General P.O.V)
The safe house was tucked into one of Gotham's quieter alleys—a rare thing in a city that thrived on noise and chaos. Jason led the way, punching in a code on a rusted keypad behind a false electrical panel before the door slid open with a hiss. The interior wasn't fancy—basic cots, weapons racks, a medical station, and a fridge that growled louder than it cooled—but it was dry, out of sight, and for once, quiet.
Clayface oozed through the door last, compacting himself into a vaguely humanoid shape that somehow still dripped. "You need me to patrol boss?" he asked Damian.
"Stay alert," Damian said, not bothering to look back. "If someone's tracking us, I'd prefer not to deal with another party crasher."
Clayface nodded—or his version of it—and slinked into a shadowed corner.
Jason tossed his soaked jacket onto the nearest chair and gestured toward the small communications table. "If you're calling mommy dearest, keep it short. This place isn't exactly subtle on long-range comms."
Damian ignored the comment and opened the encrypted channel. After a few rings, Talia's face blinked into view on the screen—composed, calculating.
"Report," she said.
"The mission is complete," Damian stated. "Cassandra's safe. Hanzo too. I'm ready for exfil."
There was a pause.
"No," Talia replied.
Damian's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"You're not returning to Infinity Island. New orders."
"Why?" he demanded, tone sharp. "The mission is done. I delivered. You don't get to move the goalposts."
I needed to get back to my training ASAP. To get stronger, enough to face 'him'. The Alpha was always on top, Richard Dragon had to know that.
Talia's eyes softened—just slightly. "Because this wasn't just about Cassandra. And because something has changed."
She tapped something off-screen. A map of Gotham's underground systems appeared beside her.
"We have intel that one of the old Lazarus Pits—possibly one of the original ones—exists somewhere beneath Gotham. Your new mission is to find it."
Cassandra moved closer to the screen, frowning. "I thought the Pits only existed in remote places."
"Normally, yes," Talia answered. "But this one predates our knowledge. A subterranean pit, possibly sealed centuries ago. The Court of Owls may have known about it."
Damian clenched his jaw. "So what now? Dig up the whole city?"
Jason stepped in, dropping a folder onto the table beside Damian. "That's where I come in. I've got a few leads from my own time running around Gotham's underworld. Old maps, intercepted Court files. Might help narrow things down."
Damian stared between Talia and Jason, annoyed. "You're saying I'm stuck here. In shitty Gotham."
"It's temporary," Talia said.
"No such thing," Damian grumbled. "You know how much I hate this place."
"You'll adapt," Talia replied coolly. "As you always do."
The screen went dark.
Damian pushed away from the table and turned to Jason. "Let's see the files."
Jason handed them over. "Try not to light the place on fire in frustration."
"I make no promises," Damian replied.
Cassandra dropped into a chair with her arms crossed. "We're stuck in Gotham. Together. This is going to be hell."
"Correction," Damian said, flipping through the maps. "It already is."