MOUNT JUSTICE — MISSION ROOM
The room hums with quiet tension. The rain outside makes the glass walls look like they're weeping. The console glow lights Batman's jawline like a chiseled shadow. The Team stands in a loose semicircle: Aqualad at the center, Robin with his arms crossed tight, M'gann hovering nervously, Superboy slouched but coiled, ready to spring. Phantom lingers in the corner, leaning against the wall like he doesn't belong here — like he knows it.
Batman: "Hostage extraction. Blüdhaven. Research lab compromised by armed mercenaries. They've taken twelve civilians. Your mission: extraction."
His voice is even, but there's an edge — this isn't a test run. This is blood-and-bone real.
He lets it hang before his gaze shifts. Locks on Phantom.
Batman: "No casualties."
The word hangs in the air like a commandment.
Phantom tilts his head, almost amused.
Phantom: "And when they open fire?"
His voice is soft but laced with challenge, like a blade under velvet.
Batman doesn't blink.
Batman: "You disable. You don't kill."
There's iron in his tone. But Phantom hears the weakness under it: hope. Hope that a thing like him can be controlled.
Phantom scoffs — low, humorless.
Phantom: "That's a good way to die."
He doesn't say it for Batman. He says it for himself. For the room. To remind them: he's survived this long by not playing by their rules.
Robin shifts uncomfortably, glancing at Batman, then Phantom.
Robin (internal): "He's not even trying to hide it. Like killing's just… breathing to him."
Superboy grunts — not words, just a low, primal sound. He doesn't like Phantom, but part of him understands him.
M'gann folds her arms, eyes darting between them.
M'gann (telepathically to Aqualad): "Kaldur… this doesn't feel right. Why bring him if—"
Aqualad (thinking back): "Because Batman believes he is necessary. That does not mean I trust him."
Aqualad steps forward, planting himself between Phantom and Batman like a wall of calm authority.
Aqualad: "You will follow our code. This is a team, not a death squad."
Phantom finally pushes off the wall, his boots thudding against the floor. He strolls past them, deliberately close. The air feels heavier when he moves.
As he passes Aqualad, his voice drops to a whisper:
Phantom: "Don't slow me down."
The doors hiss open. Phantom exits without waiting for the briefing to end. For him, it already has.
The Team watches him go. The silence after is thick.
Robin: "So… we're just gonna pretend that's not a problem?"
Batman: (clipped) "Your mission isn't to like him. It's to work with him."
M'gann: "He's… broken, Batman. I can feel it. He doesn't care what happens to those men."
Batman: "Good. As long as he cares what happens to the hostages."
And just like that, the Dark Knight turns his back on them, the briefing over. There's no more discussion. No more comfort. Just the mission.
---
The bioship hums low, cutting through storm clouds. Inside, it's dead quiet. The only sound: rain streaking the hull and Phantom's gloves — still faintly stained — tapping against his knees. He's seated apart, hood up, staring at nothing. The Team keeps its distance.
Telepathic Link (M'gann): "Okay… we can't just ignore this. He's dangerous."
Robin: "Dangerous doesn't even cut it. He's like—Deathstroke if Deathstroke was our age."
Superboy: "Good. We need someone who knows how to fight dirty."
M'gann: "That's not fighting, Conner. That's… killing. There's a difference."
Aqualad: "Focus. We cannot let him fracture us before we even reach the mission."
Robin: "Kaldur… you saw what he did at the briefing. He didn't even blink when Batman said no killing. He's going to do it anyway."
M'gann: "I can feel him even without linking. It's… nothing. No guilt. No fear. Just… empty."
Superboy: "Maybe that's what makes him useful. He's not like us."
Robin: "Yeah, no kidding."
Phantom doesn't react. He doesn't know what they're saying — but his instincts tell him enough. He can feel the weight of their eyes. The judgment. He lets it wash over him. Quietly, in his head:
Phantom (internal): "Children playing at soldiers. They think the world has rules. That's cute."
Static crackles as Batman's cowl projects his hologram. Across from him, Wonder Woman and J'onn J'onzz stand in the Watchtower's secure chamber, both looking unconvinced.
Wonder Woman: "You're sending that boy with children? Bruce, this is reckless."
Batman: "He's not a boy. He's a weapon. And right now, he's our weapon."
J'onn: "Weapons do not belong in the hands of children. They belong in containment."
Batman: "Containment doesn't work on him. I've seen the files. Cadmus trained him to vanish in plain sight, escape anything, kill anyone. You don't cage something like that."
Wonder Woman: "So you put him with impressionable heroes?"
Batman: "I put him where I can watch him."
Wonder Woman steps closer, folding her arms, unconvinced.
Wonder Woman: "You think they can change him."
Batman: "…I think they're his only chance."
The link is silent now. No one knows what else to say. Phantom tilts his head toward the window, watching Blüdhaven come into view — its skyline a jagged scar against the storm. He whispers, low enough no one hears:
Phantom: "Time to work."
The bioship descends. The city swallows them whole.
---
The rain doesn't just fall — it hammers. Fat drops pelt the cracked asphalt like nails. Steam curls up from storm drains. The lab looms ahead, ugly and fortified: reinforced glass, steel barricades, and mercenaries pacing in tight patrols, rifles at the ready.
Close-up: A merc lights a cigarette. Another wipes his goggles. Every sound feels amplified in the storm.
The bioship hovers, cloaked, as the Team crouches in the alley. Aqualad kneels, scanning the field with the precision of a soldier.
Aqualad: "Two guards at the north entrance. Four on the roof. Their focus is outward — Robin, you will infiltrate the security grid from the west side."
Robin nods, already fingering a birdarang.
Aqualad: "M'gann, maintain psychic link. Coordinate movements and provide a shield if we are detected."
M'gann: "Got it."
Aqualad: "Superboy — you are with me. Breach and extraction."
Superboy cracks his knuckles.
Close-up: Aqualad turns to the corner where Phantom stands, hood low, completely still.
Aqualad: "And you—"
He blinks.
Phantom is gone.
M'gann (telepathically): "Uh… did he just—"
Robin: (whispering) "Yep. He just did."
Superboy: "He's not a team player. Shocker."
Aqualad's jaw tightens, but his voice stays calm.
Aqualad: "Maintain formation. Do not let his recklessness compromise the mission."
PHANTOM POV:
The world feels different in the dark. The rain isn't cold — it's quiet. The mercs don't see him. Don't even sense him. He is in the shadows and among them.
Internal Monologue (Phantom): "They play at war. Measure distance. Assign roles. I learned in Cadmus: by the time you finish planning, you're already dead."
He emerges behind the first guard. Silent. A hand wraps around the man's face.
Close-up: A flick of Phantom's wrist.
CRACK. The neck goes limp.
The body is dragged into the dark.
BACK TO THE TEAM:
Robin's comm crackles.
Robin: "Uh… Kaldur? I just lost sight of the north entrance guard. No gunfire. No alarm. Just… gone."
Aqualad doesn't answer right away. He knows exactly what happened.
Aqualad: "Stay focused. We move on my mark."
Above them, the rain keeps falling. The smell of blood is already starting to mix with the storm.
---
The hallway breathes like a living thing. Dim, sterile lights hum overhead, flickering against walls splattered with old stains no one cleaned properly. The rain's muffled drumming outside becomes white noise, swallowed by the quiet, the kind of quiet that makes the skin prickle before the violence starts.
The first guard barely has time to exhale.
Phantom slides from the shadows like smoke, not moving so much as appearing — one moment not there, the next filling the space behind him.
An arm hooks around the man's face, palm covering his mouth. A wrenching twist —CRACK. The sound echoes too loudly in the small corridor. The body convulses once, then collapses like a marionette with its strings cut. Phantom eases it down, not out of mercy, but out of efficiency.
The second guard blinks at the shape emerging behind his friend, too slow to react, too human.
A blade of darkness — jagged, unnatural, humming faintly as if alive — punches through his chest with such force his boots lift off the ground. He makes a wet, gurgling noise that isn't quite a scream, lips frothing as blood bubbles out. Phantom doesn't flinch. He pulls the blade free with a wet suction sound and lets the man slide limply down the wall, leaving a crimson smear as he falls.
The third merc whirls, rifle raised, finger trembling on the trigger —
Too late.
Phantom's hand lashes out, and a spike of living shadow bursts through his wrist, the gun clattering uselessly to the floor as bones splinter under the impact.
The merc tries to scream.
A second spike buries itself in his throat.
Blood sprays in a hot, arterial arc, splattering Phantom's hood, his mask, the walls. It smells metallic, sharp, overpowering.
The man gargles, clawing at the void-stuff in his neck like he can pry it out. His movements are slow. Phantom tilts his head — watching, studying, as if dissecting the way life fades from a human face.
Then silence.
Close-up: Phantom's gloves, glistening black with blood. His breathing — slow, steady, meditative.
Internal Monologue (Phantom): "Fast. Quiet. No mistakes. No survivors."
He steps over the corpses with the same care one might use in a garden, planting his feet so his boots make no sound. His shadow stretches unnaturally long behind him, curling up the walls and ceiling like tendrils searching for more prey.
The security camera mounted above sputters static. Phantom's shadow flickers across the lens for half a second. Then it dies — severed feed. Deliberate. Controlled.
FURTHER INSIDE:
Two more mercs stand at a corner, talking low, unaware of the slaughter behind them.
Merc 1: "Can't wait to get out of this dump. Feels like a—"
The light above them dims.
Merc 2: "What the hell—"
Phantom descends from the ceiling, silent, his form unraveling from the darkness like a nightmare. His boots never touch the ground.
The first man's throat opens before he knows Phantom is there. He drops his rifle and clutches at the gash, collapsing into a wet heap.
The second raises his weapon, screaming now, but Phantom is faster.
A tendril shoots out, wrapping his face, dragging him backward into the black.
There's thrashing. Clawing. Then nothing.
When Phantom steps out of the shadow again, his gloves are wetter than before.
Phantom moves deeper into the facility. The building feels smaller around him, like the walls are closing in. Somewhere ahead, he hears muffled voices — mercs corralling hostages. The mission's true objective.
He wipes his blade across his sleeve.
Internal Monologue (Phantom): "This is what I was made for."
---
The rain is relentless now, slicking the cracked pavement, swallowing the sound of breathing and footsteps. Every shadow feels like it's watching them. The Team moves in formation toward the lab's jagged silhouette.
Robin's earpiece crackles. His voice is tight, pitched higher than he means it to be.
Robin: "Uh — where is he?!"
He knows the answer, but saying it out loud makes it real.
M'gann closes her eyes, searching for the trace of Phantom's mind.
What she touches isn't a wall — it's an abyss.
She flinches, pulling back as if burned.
M'gann: "It's… nothing. He's like… a void."
Aqualad's jaw clenches, his composure a brittle mask.
Aqualad: "Stay focused. Superboy — breach."
Superboy doesn't hesitate. He digs his fingers into the frame and tears the reinforced door apart like foil.
The smell hits first.
Not just blood — fresh blood. Iron, sharp, thick enough to taste.
Robin's hand instinctively covers his mouth. It's in the air.
They step inside.
The hallway is painted red.
Mercs are sprawled across the tiles like broken dolls — throats neatly slashed, ribcages punctured by perfect, deliberate wounds.
One man's jaw hangs half-detected, shattered like porcelain, teeth scattered near his head like loose dice. Another hangs pinned to the wall by a spike of solid shadow through his sternum, his boots dangling uselessly inches off the ground.
Robin's stomach lurches.
Robin: (gagging) "Oh my god—"
M'gann presses a hand over her mouth, fighting to stay upright.
M'gann: "He… he did this."
Superboy's fists clench. He can't decide if he's angry or impressed.
Then a voice drifts from the darkness at the far end of the corridor — quiet, casual, as if the carnage is nothing.
Phantom: "You're welcome."
They turn.
Phantom steps out of the dark, his hood down just enough for them to see his face. Blood drips from his gloves in steady, lazy rivulets.
Superboy growls, stepping forward.
Superboy: "You didn't have to kill them."
Phantom doesn't even blink.
Phantom: (flat) "They didn't have to point guns at me."
Aqualad steps up, his voice a rare, simmering fury.
Aqualad: "This is not how we work. We subdue. We do not slaughter."
Phantom tilts his head slightly, as if genuinely confused by the outrage.
Phantom: "Then stay out of my way."
The words aren't shouted. They're barely above a whisper. But they cut deeper than yelling ever could.
For a moment, no one speaks. They just stand there — the Team breathing hard, staring at the monster in their ranks, and Phantom utterly calm, as if he hasn't just repainted the hallway with human lives.
The corridor ahead erupts in gunfire. The sound is deafening in the narrow space, muzzle flashes strobing against the walls like lightning. Most people would dive for cover. Most people would hesitate.
Phantom runs toward it.
No hesitation. No cover.
The world slows:
Close-up: Bullets slicing through the air — and vanishing into liquid darkness that ripples around Phantom's frame. They don't pierce him. They're swallowed.
Cut to: A merc screams as his arm is ripped clean from its socket by a tendril of writhing shadow. The weapon clatters uselessly to the floor as the man collapses, clutching at the bloody stump that was his limb.
Cut to: Phantom materializes behind another soldier. A hand on the jaw. He lifts the man effortlessly and slams his head against the wall so hard the plaster cracks. A wet, splintering sound follows — the skull giving way. The body drops, twitching once before it stops moving entirely.
Cut to: Robin's horrified eyes. He's frozen mid-step, watching Phantom crouch over another merc, burying a shadow-forged blade into his kidney and twisting with slow, deliberate force. The screaming is high-pitched, animalistic, until it cuts off with a final shove of the blade.
Robin (internal): "This isn't a hero. This is… Cadmus made a monster."
Robin throws a birdarang out of instinct — maybe panic — aiming for Phantom's shoulder.
Phantom catches it mid-spin without even turning to look.
Phantom: "Cute."
He flicks his wrist, sending it flying into another merc's throat. The man drops instantly, gurgling as he clutches at the weapon protruding from his neck.
Superboy charges. He can't watch this anymore.
But Phantom is faster.
Three shadow spikes erupt from the ground, impaling three mercenaries in a single, fluid strike before Superboy even reaches the first one. The bodies dangle like grotesque puppets, blood dripping in steady, quiet streams.
Superboy: "STOP!"
Phantom doesn't look at him.
Phantom: "Slowing down gets you killed."
M'gann turns away, trembling so hard she nearly drops to her knees. Her hands press to her ears like she can block out the sound — the dying screams, the choked gargles, the wet thuds of bodies hitting the floor.
M'gann (internal): "I can still feel them. Their minds… their pain. And he doesn't feel anything. Not fear. Not regret. Just… nothing."
Aqualad moves to speak, to command, but the words catch in his throat. This is no soldier. This is an executioner.
Aqualad (internal): "This is what Batman unleashed on us."
Phantom steps over the corpses without looking down, like they're just obstacles, not people.
He vanishes again into his shadows.
Robin whispers without meaning to:
Robin: "Where the hell did they find you…?"
Close-up: Blood dripping from Phantom's gloves. Boots leaving red prints.
Internal Monologue (Phantom): "This is war. They still think it's a game."
The hallway is silent now — except for the rain outside and the shallow, ragged breathing of the Team. The survivors are only the ones Phantom hasn't reached yet.
---
HOSTAGE ROOM
The first thing the hostages hear isn't footsteps.
It's dripping.
Slow. Steady. Like a faucet left barely open. Drip. Drip. Drip.
The door groans open.
They all turn, eyes wide, holding each other in the far corner of the room.
And they see him.
At first, they think he's a shadow. A trick of the light.
Then he steps forward.
Tall. Wrapped in black. His hood was low, face obscured. His gloves were soaked red to the wrist. Blood running down his arms in rivulets, pooling at his boots.
Behind him, the Team appears — but they don't look like rescuers. They look afraid.
POV (Hostages):
Down the hall behind them, they glimpse it.
The carnage.
Bodies ripped apart, sprawled in unnatural positions. One guard's head sits several feet from his torso, eyes staring glassily at the ceiling. Another is split open at the ribs like a butchered animal, organs exposed.
The walls are streaked in black-red arcs. Some of the blood has begun to mingle with the rainwater, forming diluted streams that snake toward the hostages' corner.
This wasn't a fight. It was a massacre.
Phantom doesn't rush to comfort them. Doesn't say they're safe. He doesn't even look at them.
He kneels, wipes his shadow-forged blade on the shirt of a dead guard — slow, methodical — like a man cleaning a favorite tool.
Robin finally breaks the silence, voice cracking with something between anger and fear.
Robin: "You… you're a psycho."
Phantom rises, not even sparing him a glance.
Phantom: (flat, as if stating a fact) "I'm efficient."
Aqualad steps forward, his calm finally cracking, words sharp.
Aqualad: "You are a liability."
Phantom finally glances his way. Just a tilt of the head, just enough for the blood to drip from his hood onto the floor between them.
He doesn't answer.
He doesn't need to.
POV (Hostages):
The man — no, the thing—in black turns toward them.
For a moment, they want to scream. But they don't. They can't.
Because the others — the ones who came to save them — are silent too.
And if the heroes are afraid of him, what does that make him?
M'gann steps forward, finally, kneeling to reassure the hostages with a trembling voice.
But they don't look at her.
Their eyes stay fixed on Phantom — the blood-soaked phantom in the doorway, who walks past them without a word, like they're already forgotten.
Close-up: Blood dripping from Phantom's gloves.Close-up: Robin's clenched fists.Close-up: Aqualad's jaw is ight enough to break teeth.
The hostages are alive. But no one in the room feels saved.
---
EXTRACTION POINT
The night is still raining, but it's quieter now. Almost reverent. Like, even the storm knows what just happened inside that building.
The bioship squats low on the broken asphalt, ramp open. The hostages shuffle aboard first, herded by M'gann's soft voice and Aqualad's steady hands. None of them speaks. They don't even look at their rescuers — except for one older man, who risks a glance back at the corridor where the massacre happened.
He freezes.
Phantom is still standing there in the doorway, hooded, streaked in gore, a long black shadow in the rain. He doesn't look human.
The man turns away. Quickly.
Phantom doesn't sit with them.
He takes a seat by the window, apart from the Team, hood up, face obscured. Blood still drips from his gloves, pooling at his boots, soaking into the bioship's pristine floor. He doesn't notice. Or care.
He just stares out at the blurred city lights as they fade beneath the clouds.
POV (Hostages):
They keep sneaking glances at him. The tall figure in black. The blood-soaked rescuer who walked through fire and came back untouched.
If this is what heroes look like… maybe they don't want saving after all.
One woman whispers — barely audible.
Hostage (whispering): "That's… not human."
Close-up: Robin, sitting across from Phantom. His hands shake in his lap. He's staring at the floor because every time his eyes drift to Phantom, he sees the hallway again.
Robin (internal): "Batman wanted him on the Team. Batman trusts him. So why do I feel like we just brought a serial killer home?"
Close-up: M'gann. Knees pulled to her chest, face pale.
She's breathing through her mouth, trying not to taste the blood still hanging in the air.
M'gann (internal): "I tried to reach him in the fight. His mind is… empty. Not quiet. Empty. Like a room where the lights were turned off and the windows boarded shut. How do you save someone who isn't even there?"
Close-up: Superboy. Leaning forward, arms on his knees. He keeps glancing at Phantom like he wants to speak, maybe fight, maybe both.
Superboy (internal): "I get it. I do. You don't win by playing fair. But… is that all he is? A weapon?"
Close-up: Aqualad. Stiff posture, jaw locked so tight it could break teeth. He doesn't speak because if he does, it will be an order. And he doesn't know if Phantom would even listen.
Aqualad (internal): "I let this happen on my mission. I let him be part of my Team. This is on me."
Close-up: Kid Flash — still catching his breath. He's the only one who tries to break the silence.
Kid Flash: "Soooo… no one's gonna talk about what just happened? Or are we all just gonna—"
He stops when he realizes no one's looking at him. Not even Phantom.
The comm crackles.
Batman (over comm): "Mission accomplished. Report."
Nobody answers.
Silence.
Until—
Phantom: (flat, detached) "Hostages are alive. Everyone else isn't."
The words land like a blade on stone. Final. Absolute.
Close-up: M'gann's horrified expression. Robin's trembling hands. Aqualad's jais are tightening.
Even the hostages flinch at the sound of his voice.
Internal Monologue (Phantom): "They don't get it. They think this is hero work. They've never had to survive."
He leans his head against the window, watching his blood leave streaks where it smears the glass.
---
DEBRIEF ROOM
The room feels heavier than usual. Rain still streaks the windows, but it's quiet inside. The Team stands around the table like they're avoiding a crime scene. Phantom leans against the wall, hood down, blood still drying on his gloves. He hasn't washed. He hasn't spoken since the bioship landed.
Batman looms at the head of the table, cape draped like a shadow, his presence as suffocating as the silence.
Batman: "Report."
No one answers.
Then Robin slams his hand on the table.
Robin: "You want a report? He butchered them."
He turns toward Phantom, voice rising.
Robin: "That wasn't combat. That wasn't hero work. You— you enjoyed it."
Phantom doesn't flinch.
Phantom: "They were armed. They were hostile. They aren't anymore."
M'gann steps forward, arms crossed tight, voice shaking.
M'gann: "You don't get it. I could feel them die. Every single one. You didn't even hesitate."
Phantom tilts his head like it's an alien concept.
Phantom: "They took hostages. They knew the cost."
Superboy: "You don't get to make that call."
Phantom: "Someone has to."
Aqualad slams his trident on the floor.
Aqualad: "Enough! You are part of this Team. That means you follow our code."
Phantom's smirk is slight, mocking.
Phantom: "Your code gets people killed."
Batman: "Our code keeps us from becoming them."
Finally, Phantom's gaze locks on him.
Phantom: "Oh? Like the Joker? How many has he killed while you keep bringing him in? How many families has Bane shattered? How many people has Deadshot put in the ground because you 'captured' him instead of ending it?"
The words cut like knives. Even Robin goes still.
Batman's fists clench. He steps forward, closing the distance between them.
Batman: "You don't get to decide who lives and dies."
Phantom doesn't move. Doesn't blink.
Phantom: "Then maybe you don't deserve to."
For a moment, it feels like Batman might hit him. The Team tenses.
Phantom straightens from the wall, rolling his shoulders like a fighter limbering up.
Phantom: "Round two? I'm ready this time."
Robin: "Oh my god—"
Kid Flash: "This is gonna end in blood."
Batman's silence is worse than shouting. It hangs like a storm about to break.
Phantom steps closer, just enough that only Batman can hear:
Phantom (low): "The mission was accomplished. Hostages alive. The people who took them? Dead. You want to be angry about that? Fine. But don't pretend your way works."
Close-up: Batman's jaw is tight. His hands unclench.
Batman: "Get cleaned up."
He turns, cape swirling, ending it before it becomes a war in the debrief room.
Phantom's Internal Monologue: "They hate me because I don't play their game. But Slade taught me the truth: there are no games. Just survivors."