Scene: League Stronghold — Outer Corridor → Central Chamber
The alarms don’t blare.
They never do.
But something shifts.
A pressure in the air. A silent warning that something—or someone—has entered who doesn’t belong.
Damian feels it first.
Of course he does.
He’s mid-step, already dragging Danny by the wrist toward the exit.
“Walk faster.”
“I am walking fast,” Danny protests, half-jogging. “You just have, like, assassin legs.”
Behind them, shadows gather.
Ahead—
A figure drops from above.
Cape snapping once before settling like it owns the dark.
Batman
He lands between them and the exit.
Still.
Silent.
Assessing.
His gaze flicks once to Damian—alive, uninjured.
Then to Danny—
Also alive.
Also—
“…unrestrained.”
Danny brightens. “Oh hey, you’re the bat guy.”
Damian releases Danny immediately.
“Father.”
Batman’s voice is low, controlled.
“Report.”
Damian hesitates.
Which, for him?
Is basically a five-alarm fire.
“…The mission parameters have… changed.”
Batman’s eyes narrow.
They always do when Damian starts sounding like that.
“And the hostage?”
Danny raises a hand. “Present!”
Batman looks at him fully now.
Clocking everything in seconds:
No visible injuries.
No fear response.
Posture: relaxed.
Expression: curious.
Clothing: slightly bloodstained—
“Is that blood?” Batman asks.
Danny glances down, pokes at his shirt, then—without hesitation—licks his finger.
“…Nah. Ketchup.”
Damian pinches the bridge of his nose.
“…It is not ketchup.”
“It could be ketchup.”
“It was a stab wound.”
Batman’s head tilts—just slightly.
“…Explain.”
Danny gestures vaguely behind them. “Oh yeah, your grandpa’s got, like, a whole knife thing going on.”
From the chamber they just exited—
A calm voice carries.
“You speak as though you object.”
They all turn.
Ra's al Ghul steps into the corridor like he’s been there the entire time.
Because he probably has.
Hands clasped behind his back.
Composed.
Watching.
Batman straightens.
The temperature drops ten degrees.
“Ra’s.”
“Detective.”
Danny looks between them.
“…Okay, wow, the tension here is insane. Is this like a rivals thing or—”
“Fenton,” Damian snaps.
Danny zips it.
For about two seconds.
Then—
“So are we leaving or are we doing the dramatic stare-off? Because I can do either, I just need to mentally prepare.”
Batman does not take his eyes off Ra’s.
“Damian. Extract the civilian.”
“I have been attempting to.”
Danny leans toward Batman, stage-whispering, “He means I don’t follow instructions.”
“I am aware,” Batman says flatly.
Ra’s studies Danny again.
Openly now.
“You see it, Detective.”
It’s not a question.
Batman’s gaze flicks—just once—to Danny.
Something unreadable passes behind the cowl.
“…Yes.”
Danny points between them. “See what? Are we talking about me? I feel like we’re talking about me.”
No one answers.
That’s never a good sign.
Ra’s takes a step forward.
“Leave the boy.”
Damian’s sword is out in an instant.
“No.”
Batman’s cape shifts—subtle, but final.
“We’re done here.”
Danny raises a hand again.
“Counter-suggestion: we all just… don’t fight? I feel like that would really improve everyone’s evening.”
Ra’s almost smiles.
“An appealing thought.”
A beat.
“Declined.”
The assassins move.
Fast. Silent. Surrounding.
Damian shifts into stance.
Batman doesn’t move.
Doesn’t need to.
Danny looks around at the forming circle.
“…Okay, so this is a fighting thing. Got it.”
One assassin lunges—
—and Danny steps sideways.
Casual.
Too casual.
The blade slices through where he was—
—or should have been.
For half a second—
he flickers.
Not gone.
Not there.
Wrong.
Batman sees it.
Of course he does.
Files it away instantly.
The assassin hesitates.
Danny pats him on the shoulder. “Hey, quick tip? Aim a little to the left next time.”
Damian stares.
“…You phased.”
Danny blinks. “I what?”
Another assassin attacks—
—and Danny just…
lets it happen.
The blade sinks into his side.
Batman moves.
Damian moves.
Too late.
Danny looks down.
“…Again?”
He pulls it out with a wince.
The wound seals.
Right in front of them.
Silence.
Even the assassins freeze.
Batman’s voice is very, very quiet.
“…You’re healing.”
Danny shrugs. “Yeah, it does that.”
Damian turns slowly.
“You knew.”
Batman doesn’t answer.
Which is an answer.
Ra’s exhales softly.
Satisfied.
“Now you understand, Detective.”
Danny points at himself. “Okay seriously, what do I understand? Because everyone’s acting like I missed a meeting.”
Batman steps forward.
Places himself—deliberately—between Danny and Ra’s.
Protective.
Final.
“Conversation’s over.”
Danny leans around him. “Wait, does that mean we’re leaving? Because I would love that for us.”
Damian grabs his arm again.
“This time,” he mutters, “you will follow.”
Danny grins. “No promises.”
Batman deploys a smoke charge.
The corridor floods with black.
Movement.
Precision.
Exit route carved in seconds.
As they retreat—
Ra’s voice follows.
Calm. Certain.
“This is not finished.”
Danny coughs in the smoke. “Yeah, you guys keep saying that, it’s kind of ominous—”
They burst out into open night.
Wind. Space. Freedom.
Damian doesn’t stop moving.
Batman scans the perimeter.
Then—
finally—
he looks at Danny.
Really looks.
“You’re not a normal metahuman,” he says.
Danny rocks back on his heels. “Bold of you to assume I’m normal anything.”
A beat.
Batman: “We’re going to talk.”
Danny: “…Is this a ‘I’m in trouble’ talk or a ‘you’re joining the team’ talk?”
Damian: “You are not joining anything.”
Danny: “Wow, rude.”
Batman turns away.
“Move.”
They vanish into Gotham’s skyline.
Behind them—
high in the shadows—
Ra’s watches.
Smiling.
And unseen by all but one—
a faint crunch.
Danny glances back.
Grins.
“…Later, Vlad.”
