Consequences and Calculations
Early Morning — Titans Tower, Jump City
Nightwing stared at the phone in his hand like it had personally betrayed him.
Not metaphorically. Not dramatically.
Personally.
The screen was still lit, Damian's message burned into his retinas:
Taking a week off. Raven and I. Don't contact me.
— Robin
Dick Grayson exhaled slowly and leaned back against the railing of Titans Tower's balcony, the early morning ocean wind doing absolutely nothing to cool the creeping sense of doom crawling up his spine.
"One day," he muttered. "One single day. That's all he stayed here."
He dragged a hand down his face, already imagining it—
Batman's stare.
The silence.
That cold, surgical disappointment that cut deeper than shouting ever could.
For thirty straight minutes, Nightwing did nothing but pace.
Jump.
Don't jump.
Lie.
Don't lie.
Blame Raven.
Absolutely do not blame Raven.
Finally, he stopped pacing.
"…Screw it."
He tapped the call button.
Wayne Manor — Batcave Access Corridor
Bruce Wayne answered on the first ring.
"Dick," Batman said. Calm. Flat. Controlled.
Nightwing swallowed. "So, uh… about Damian."
There was a pause.
Not silence—worse. Batman listening.
"He's safe," Dick said quickly. "He's with Raven. They took a week off. Personal… thing."
Another pause.
When Batman spoke again, his voice hadn't risen—but it had hardened.
"You allowed this."
Dick winced. "I—"
"You are the team leader," Batman continued. "You were responsible for oversight."
The word oversight landed like a hammer.
Then came the part Dick had been dreading.
"Meet me," Batman said, voice low and precise, "when Damian returns."
Dick blinked. "Bruce—"
"You will be retrained," Batman finished. "Because you forgot what responsibility costs."
The line went dead.
Nightwing stared at the phone.
Memories flooded in uninvited.
Long nights.
Broken ribs.
Endurance drills that didn't end when you collapsed.
Batman standing over him, not angry—disappointed.
"…I'm dead," Dick whispered.
Titans Tower — Common Area
Starfire already knew.
She had known the moment Dick's shoulders slumped.
"Well?" she asked gently.
Nightwing held up the phone. "Batman's going to retrain me."
Starfire winced sympathetically. "Ah. The… educational punishment."
Beast Boy choked on his cereal. "Wait—you? Not Damian?"
"Apparently," Nightwing said dryly, "I failed the 'don't let Batman's son disappear into a pocket dimension with his demon girlfriend' portion of leadership."
Blue Beetle blinked. "They're… dating now?"
"Yes," Dick said flatly. "And on vacation."
Beast Boy stared. "…Man. Speedrun."
Cyborg, freshly back from the Watchtower, glanced up from his datapad. "They'll be back. Damian's disciplined enough not to push it."
Nightwing groaned. "Tell that to Bruce."
Elsewhere — A Seized Facility, Location Classified
Once, this place had been a Cadmus cybernetics site.
Now, it didn't officially exist.
Deep underground, behind reinforced blast doors and dead-spectrum signal jammers, a long conference table sat beneath harsh white lights.
At its head: Amanda Waller.
To her right: General Sam Lane.
To her left: Rick Flag Sr.
Across from them: General Hercules, head of multiple black-budget meta-response programs.
And standing in front of a massive screen—
Men who had once shaped the future.
Now, they were prisoners.
Dr. Emil Hamilton clenched his jaw.
Will Magnus said nothing, steel-eyed and calculating.
T.O. Morrow fumed quietly.
The Thinker—Clifford DeVoe—watched everything with unsettling calm.
Several other scientists and lab assistants stood behind them, guards flanking every exit.
The screen flickered to life.
Footage played.
Batman—
Moving faster than the eye could track.
Solomon Grundy—slammed, redirected, dismantled.
Each strike precise. Efficient. Overwhelming.
The room was silent except for the hum of the projector.
When the footage ended, Amanda Waller stood.
"This," she said, voice cold and absolute, "is why you're here."
She gestured to the frozen image of Batman mid-strike.
"That suit. That technology. Whatever edge allowed a human to overpower something that gave Superman trouble."
Rick Flag Sr. crossed his arms. "We've designated the initiative."
General Hercules nodded once. "PROJECT: OVERCLOCK."
Sam Lane stepped forward. "Your task is simple."
Simple, the way a loaded gun was simple.
"You will analyze every frame," Lane continued. "Every micro-movement. Every anomaly."
Morrow scoffed. "You expect us to replicate Batman?"
Amanda Waller smiled.
It did not reach her eyes.
"You will produce a working prototype by the end of the year," she said.
"A controllable system. Government-owned. Soldier-compatible."
She leaned forward, palms on the table.
"And if you fail—"
The lights dimmed.
Images replaced the footage.
Cells.
Restraints.
Facilities that erased names.
"You go back to where we took you from."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Will Magnus finally spoke. "And if we succeed?"
Waller straightened.
"Then you get to keep breathing."
She turned toward the door. "Begin."
The screen went dark.
Behind her, the future of warfare stared at Batman's shadow—and began to work.
Far Away — Beyond Reach
In a place untouched by governments, gods, or satellites—
Damian Wayne sat beside Raven, unaware.
For one week, the world would wait.
And when he returned—
Nothing would ever move at normal speed again.