Quiet Before the Overclock
The world did not slow down just because Damian Wayne decided, for once, to stop running.
Inside his personal dimension, time felt softer—less demanding. The air carried the faint scent of mineral-rich steam and warm stone, the kind that loosened muscles and quieted thoughts without asking permission. The healing hot spring shimmered faintly, its surface disturbed only by the slow rhythm of breathing and the gentle lap of water against stone.
Damian sat at the edge of the spring, black combat shorts clinging to his frame, his posture relaxed in a way few people alive had ever seen. Raven sat sideways on his lap, her legs still submerged in the glowing water, her purple bikini darkened slightly by steam. She leaned back against his chest, her head resting just beneath his collarbone, eyes half-lidded.
For once, there was no demon whispering in her mind.
For once, there was no assassin's instinct screaming in his.
Damian's arms wrapped around her from behind—not tight, not possessive, just there. Solid. Certain. His chin rested lightly against the top of her head, the warmth of her body grounding him in a way combat never had.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Raven was the first to break the silence, her voice low and calm, without the edge it usually carried.
"You know," she said, idly tracing a small circle on his forearm with her finger, "this place is… safe. Not just magically. Emotionally."
Damian exhaled softly through his nose. "I designed it that way." He lied even if he loved her he cannot tell her about the system and it's rewards and how it give me the dimensional space and about how he was reborn into this world as Damian
Wayne back to the present conversation
She tilted her head slightly, glancing up at him. "For missions?"
"For survival," he replied honestly.
She hummed, accepting that answer. Raven closed her eyes fully now, letting her shoulders sink as the spring's energy worked through her body. The faint bruises from their earlier training session faded almost imperceptibly, muscle tension unwinding like it had never been there.
After a few moments, she spoke again.
"I think," Raven said slowly, "we should stay here for a week."
Damian didn't hesitate.
"Alright."
The word came easily. Too easily. And he realized that was the point.
Carefully, so as not to disturb her, Damian shifted just enough to reach into the pocket of his discarded Robin combat pants, folded neatly beside the spring. He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting briefly in the dim glow of the dimension.
Raven opened one eye. "Who are you telling?"
"Nightwing," Damian replied flatly.
He typed quickly:
Going off-grid for a week. Raven and I.
Don't contact me. Handle Batman.
He hit send.
Then, without ceremony, Damian crushed the phone in his hand.
Metal bent. Glass cracked. Circuits sparked once, then died.
He flicked the remains into the spring. The water hissed briefly, then went still.
Raven stared at him for half a second—then a small, genuine smile curved her lips.
"Dramatic," she said.
"Effective," Damian replied.
She laughed quietly, the sound soft and unguarded. Raven settled back against him again, fully relaxed now, her eyes closing as if a weight she'd carried for years had finally loosened.
"No one can get in here, right?" she asked.
"No one," Damian confirmed. "Not without my permission."
Raven nodded, satisfied. She shifted slightly, tucking herself closer, and within moments her breathing evened out, drifting toward sleep.
Damian stayed awake.
Not because he was on guard.
But because he didn't want to miss the moment.
Outside the Dimension — Jump City
Nightwing landed lightly beside Starfire as the last of the smugglers were cuffed and hauled away by Jump City police. The warehouse was secured. The weapons shipment—illegal, experimental, and highly dangerous—was accounted for.
Another successful mission.
Nightwing pulled off his escrima sticks, exhaling. "That's the last of them."
Starfire floated down beside him, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yes. This operation was most satisfactory."
Nightwing's comm buzzed.
He checked it—and froze.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Starfire leaned closer. "What is it?"
He handed her the device.
She read the message once. Then again.
Her lips curved into a bright smile. "Ah. I see."
Nightwing stared at the broken phone icon that followed the message timestamp. "How the hell did that kid get out of the doghouse in less than twenty-four hours?"
Starfire clasped her hands behind her back, clearly pleased. "I told you, dick. In Tamaraneans fight with those they have conflict with, it often leads to greater emotional clarity and happiness."
"…That is not how it works on Earth," Nightwing muttered.
He sighed heavily. "Batman's is going to kill me."
Starfire tilted her head. "You are not responsible."
"I'm absolutely responsible," he replied. "I was supposed to supervise him. He's been here one day and now he's on vacation. With Raven."
Nightwing pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can already feel the death stare."
Elsewhere — Classified Government Facility (Former CADMUS Site)
The room was silent except for the hum of servers and the low whir of holographic projectors.
Amanda Waller stood with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the footage playing before them.
Batman.
Solomon Grundy.
The blur of motion.
The impossible reaction speed.
The calculated brutality.
General Sam Lane leaned forward slightly, jaw tight. "Run it again."
The footage replayed.
Rick Flag Sr. didn't blink. "That wasn't just faster reflexes. He was thinking ahead of the moment."
General Hercules, massive arms folded, nodded slowly. "He outpaced a threat that gives Kryptonians trouble. That suit changes the equation."
Amanda Waller's voice was cold. "Batman didn't just upgrade. He crossed a line."
She turned toward the others. "Which means we're behind."
A new hologram lit up in the center of the room.
PROJECT: OVERCLOCK
STATUS: ACTIVE
Sam Lane spoke carefully. "Our objectives are clear."
Rick Flag Sr. continued. "We identify the technology. Trace its origin. Apply pressure where necessary."
Hercules finished, voice like stone. "And we build our own version. One we control."
Waller's lips curled into a thin smile.
"Batman thinks he's protecting the world," she said. "But power like that doesn't stay singular."
The screen shifted to schematics. Hypotheticals. Projections.
Human silhouettes overlaid with cybernetic augmentation.
Soldiers who could think faster than fear.
"Let him have his edge," Waller said quietly. "For now."
Her eyes hardened.
"Every arms race starts with one man thinking he's prepared."
Back in the Personal Dimension
Damian finally allowed himself to rest.
Raven slept against him, peaceful in a way the world rarely allowed her to be. Steam curled around them, the spring's light reflecting softly against the stone walls of a place no god, hero, or demon could touch without his consent.
For the first time in a long while, Damian Wayne was not a weapon.
He was just a boy holding the girl he loved—unaware that outside his sanctuary, the world had already begun preparing to catch up to him.