Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 17]
Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Heavily Implied Animal Cruelty (Lab Rats), Mild Body Horror, Implied Anxiety, Implied Depression, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 9.0K
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Notes: I told y'all it wasn't going to take long this time LOLOLOL although no promises for the next one, classes are ramping up a bit so I cranked this one out before I got on that grind lolol but, as always, I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: This series is originally by@fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)
2022
The silence was tense. No one dared to say a single word and, while you usually enjoyed moments like these, the sound of the papers in your hand being the only noise in a room filled with six people was unnerving at best. A few hours ago you had finished the physical examination with Dr. Bronte and at your request the tests were expedited, with the recent attacks, you couldn’t afford to sit still. You tapped the corner of the map with your pen, watching the inkblot the paper under it. In your hands was a rough drawing of the kingdom and all of its military bases, you had circled the ones that were decimated by the attacks and you’d annotated the remaining ones with how many Knights were assigned there. The map was filled with scribbles and flaws, but the information was still readable. The sudden decrease in Knights was a whole other problem you’d been pushing to the side, and the Knighthood was spread thin as a result. All of the key players were moved to the Capital to surround the Royal family while the newer recruits were sent to the further sections.
Despite this, you could just barely make out the hushed conversations.
“Is that really…?” Dick’s voice was quiet, trained.
“Yeah, it has to be, it is,” Damian’s, natural.
“But you saw her on the field, it hasn’t been that.…”
“You don’t…”
“But I do, if no one else, I do…”
“Where’s Jason? I’m sure…”
‘It’s just… something isn’t right.”
You took a deep breath and focused. Keeping your hands busy to avoid suspicion, their voices became clearer.
“Some things just aren’t adding up,” Dick mutters. “Why and how are the major things.”
“Of course those wouldn’t make sense, Grayson.”
“Bruce, what do you think? You’ve been quiet this whole time,” Dick probes.
“There’s not enough information, we’re missing too much of the big picture,” he answers, his gaze matching yours for a second before breaking. Would it kill them to just ask you? You were right there. But you couldn’t blame them, a family of detectives, it’s only natural that they want to save their pride and solve the case that is you before you could even figure it out yourself.
“Hey, if you’re done hyper-analyzing me can one of you toss me those painkillers?” You asked loudly.
“Yeah, here,” Dick grabs the bottle from the shelf and hands it to you. “What dose are you supposed to take?” You ignored him, opened the bottle, and took the whole thing. “(Y/N)!”
“Relax, bird boy,” you waved him off and closed your eyes, the pain finally subsiding. You’d been ignoring it since you woke up, but it messed with your focus too much. You weren’t too much of a fan of them, expectedly once they wore off you felt like you were in more pain than before. But this was a new kind of pain, you think, it felt like everything was threatening to rip open at the seams if they weren’t already. “It’ll take nine of these to make any effect,” you reassured him. “I wonder if the lingering effects of the serum have anything to do with this,” you thought aloud.
“We’re not analyzing you, (Y/N), we’re just trying to find out how this is possible.”
“Little sister almost dies again and still her family ignores her, fun.”
“(Y/N),” Dick’s voice takes a new tone and you turned away from him. You didn’t relax again until you noticed him return to the others.
“Some family reunion,” you scoffed quietly, spinning the pen in your hands while you skimmed over the map in your lap and the pages of survey notes in your other. In a world filled with technological marvels, old habits still seemed to die hard, memories of the stacks and piles of papers in your room came back to you, painstakingly recreated and re-detailed notes from your classes and constant observations and findings from your research, some would call have called that the lowest point of your life. Even now, to avoid their whispers and stares, you buried yourself with work.
~
2018
The alarm clock ticked menacingly in your room, a constant reminder of upcoming due dates and the steady yet glaringly short amount of time. You bounced your pen on your thigh while looking at the spread of loose papers pinned to the cork in front of you. Mathematic equations have been written, crossed out, marked over, scribbled through, and rewritten across a canvas of loose pages with haphazard arrows and messily drawn circles around key information, and even then some were violently crossed out with red ink. Sticky notes littered with barely legible writing were sometimes pinned or taped in place. But you couldn’t toss anything out, what if a previous calculation was correct and you had tossed it out on accident? No way, and so those papers were gathered in a stack lining the floor underneath the board.
You were so close to cracking the formula, you were certain. With no reasonable way to ask Bane about the concoction himself, you were stuck in a cycle of trial and error, a secretive one, that only your professor knew about and approved. To your lab colleagues you were studying stem cell regeneration and repurposing, but in truth, your search for a new and improved serum was at a standstill. Maybe you should have just bit the bullet and accepted the grotesque body trauma that came with drinking the serum, but…
“Maybe if I adjust this amount…” you muttered quietly, running through the quick calculations in your head.
You didn’t want to be a monster.
You’re not one. You’re different. You had to look the part of the hero. You had to match the legacy somehow if you truly were going to go through this. You could argue day and night about your noble intentions but that wouldn't detract from what everyone would see on the surface. You had to be sure. You had to be perfect. And, most of all, you had to have the insurance.
“But then I’d have to account for the-” your head snapped to the window of your room, causing Tim, in his Red Robin uniform, to pause his movements.
“You look… bad,” he says, a look of concern settling on his features.
“Ever heard of knocking, Tim?” You know you said he could drop by whenever he wanted, he was more than welcome always, but you weren’t expecting him to actually do it. At least, not after that nasty fight with your dad. And definitely through your front door.
“Sorry, sis, uh… I brought a snack if you want some?” He pulls his mask off and shows you the paper bag. You could only sigh at the telltale grumble of your stomach.
“Sure, let’s eat in the kitchen,” you left the room first and he stepped into your room, closing and locking the window behind him. He took a brief pause, a small moment, to look at the state of your mind. On top of your dresser was a line of emptied coffee mugs and energy drinks, some showing signs of having been there for weeks and some brand new. Your bed wasn’t made, but that wasn’t a new from the manor. Aside from the general stuffiness of the room, there was the modest wall plug to combat it, but it paled to the pile of unfolded clothes piled up on your desk chair.
Your desk. Tim looked at the large corkboard in front of it.
What were all those calculations for? He knew you to be an exceptional student, a brilliant one actually, but he couldn’t figure out what was in front of him. Not with your handwriting, and not with how the information was laid out. Only you could’ve understood your own madness.
Worse than the corkboard had to be the stacks of paper. They were all on the floor, but why was it that the shortest stack was as tall as he was? He pulled the first paper from the top and skimmed over it, but his eyebrows scrunched together. It was just… scribbles. Whatever was on it before was indiscernible now. But, he swears, he could see the faint outline of a bat in the scribbles.
“Tim? What’s the holdup?” You called him out and with one last glance, a quick and well-calculated grab of all your mugs, Tim walked out of your room.
“What’s with the freak calculations?” You watched Tim place all your mugs in the sink before sitting down.
“CAPSTONE Thesis, why?” You finished cleaning out one of your many mugs and placed it in front of Tim, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into it.
“Real funny, (Y/N),” Tim snorts when he sees the Robin-themed mug.
“It’s a collectible!” You defended. Tim looks into the mug for a moment.
“Did you need any help with your thesis? I have a lot of free time these days,” he says.
“No, all good, I want the satisfaction of saying it was all my work,” you told him. “You’re all amazing, don’t get me wrong, and I appreciate all of your help, but I want this to be my thing, you know?” You explained and Tim could only nod. “I just…” you look at your mug now, Tim notices the dried coffee drips along the sides of it and the chip on it’s rim. Tim looked at his mug and noted that it was pristine. “I want to have something like all of you. Dick’s the acrobat, Jason’s the man of the people, you’re probably the smartest kid in the world, and Damian… well, he’s still trying to figure his thing out other than ‘the product of his upbringing,’ I just want to have something other than ‘the normal one.’” You explained. He didn’t realize it until now, but the dark circles under your eyes almost made you look dead.
“I mean… you are the named heir to Wayne Enterprise,” Tim says.
“Were,” you corrected.
“Are,” he corrects you again. “Bruce can’t be mad at you forever, (Y/N).”
“I know, Tim, but…” You hesitated. “It was bad,” you didn’t say anything more.
No one was there. No one saw or heard the argument. It was just you and him. He didn’t talk about it, and you didn’t talk about it either. You’d never argued like that before, it was so intense it almost didn’t seem like it was him and when he wore that fucking cowl he’d might as well be a stranger to you, hell, that night he basically was. Never had you argued like that, and never had he spoken to you in that way. But you knew that recently it was just argument after argument between the two of you, and usually one or the other would give up and settle. But this time?
Nothing. Radio silence on both ends. You shouldn’t have instigated the way you did. Now so much more was on the line than just your name.
“It’s been a month.”
“Has it?” You looked at your phone. It has. Barbara’s swearing-in ceremony was coming up soon. It was on the same day as your thesis presentation and you’d long told Barbara that you wouldn’t be able to make it. You had plans the next day for a girls’ trip with her, Steph, and Cass after though.
“You know… Alfred still sets a plate for you.”
“That’s nice of him.”
“You’re welcome to come back,” Tim says carefully. You don’t answer, instead, you begin tapping the bottom of your phone against the counter, which is enough of a sign that you weren’t going to answer.
“Is that a new phone?” Tim asks.
“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I left the old one at home and figured I’d get myself a new one before I got cut off,” you half-joked with him.
“Can I see it?” You handed it to him, unlocked, and he seemed to tinker with it for a short while before handing it back to you. “I added the distress call app on it,” he says.
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you looked at the app on your screen, the icon sporting Barbara’s famous insignia on it.
“What do you mean? Of course, I had to,” he says. “Did you want me to bring your phone here?”
“No, it’s fine, that data’s not important anyway. I’ll just drop by in a couple days to get the last of my things. I didn’t want to go earlier while I was still royally pissed off,” you mumbled. Tim hummed quietly. He looked at your hands, it was evident that you’d been chewing on your fingernails.
‘That’s new,’ he thought.
“Stop it.” Your voice cut through the silence like a knife. Tim blinked out of his thoughts and shook his head.
“I’m sorry?” He looked at you now and felt his heart stop. Had he ever seen your expression like that before? What was it? Fear? Concern? Shock?
… Anger?
You shook your head, running your hand down the side of your face.
“Sorry, I’m just tired,” you muttered. You grabbed the bag he brought and pulled out its contents. “And… hungry.”
“Yeah,” Tim looked down. “Are you sure you’re okay, sis?”
“I’ll be fine.” You took the empty mugs and stacked them in the sink. “I think you should go now, Tim. These deadlines… they’re catching up, you know? I love you, I do, but…”
“No, I get it, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tim stumbles off the stool. “Just… let me know if you need anything too.”
“Sure.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I should be saying that to you.”
“Then it’s likewise.” You stood up and opened the door for him and he stood at the doorway for a while.
“I’m fine, Tim, really I am, you don’t have to worry about me,” you repeated. “So stop studying me. I hate it when you guys do that.” You finally said it. You knew he’d been doing it since he got here, that’s why he spent so long in your room, why he was so quiet while you were preparing coffee, and even why he’d asked for your phone. You grew up with this kid, you knew exactly how his mind worked, and yet you could easily tell that he couldn’t read you at all.
Good, to some extent, at least one of your mother’s teachings has stuck with you past these years.
“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that,” he was quick to defend.
“I know. Just be aware of it now,” you held your hand out to stop him. “Bye, Tim.” You closed the door and he heard the locks fasten. He stood a while longer, wondering if he should knock or come back around the window.
He had to, just a quick glance. The way you paced your room, the way you stacked papers and tore them off the wall, it was like you were in a manic state. What were you trying so hard to find out? All this over a thesis? Just what did you and Bruce argue about so much that it left you like this? Again, he is pulled from his thoughts by a sudden sound. He looked up into the window and saw your disappointed face.
“Go home.” He couldn’t hear your voice through the window, but it was clear enough what you said. You pulled the blinds down and he jumped down the fire escape. He looked at his phone, a text chime coming in at almost too perfect a time.
‘How is she?’ A text from Bruce Wayne.
‘Fine, working on her thesis.’
‘Did you tell her to come home?’ Tim stared at the message. Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why go through the trouble of having a middleman?
‘She’ll drop by to grab her things later.’ And the conversation ended there. There was this strange feeling in his chest. Dick couldn’t convince you to come home, Jason didn’t agree with forcing you to come back when you clearly didn’t want to, and Barbara was too busy focusing on everything else and could only offer her support in other ways. Maybe it was too prideful of him to think that it would’ve been his words that convinced you to come back.
Or, maybe the falling out was just that bad.
~
2022
“Could I help you out?” Tim chimed next to you, pulling up a chair and waiting expectantly. You shifted so he could see the map.
“It’s already done, but I can walk you through it. Knight allocation. Right now we have to keep the castle fortified, so that means all of us in the Brigade and our usual squadrons. As a result, we have this number left to move around,” you pointed at the numbers as you explained. “I was planning on dispersing them evenly, but with new intel for predicted daemon attacks, I want to fortify those military bases more.”
“Makes sense,” Tim nods. “In that case, these inner forts can be kept at a minimum,” he points at them.
“That’s the plan,” you scribbled in numbers. “It’s not ideal though. With everyone dying no one wants to enlist anymore,” You sighed.
“A couple people went home already,” Damian adds. You leaned back on your hospital bed, staring at the muted news feed above you.
Captain Wayne Hospitalized. Brigade on Standby.
Standby? Whoever said that? You were working them half to death trying to find anything on these monsters.
“How do you feel, (Y/N)?” It was still such a foreign feeling to hear Bruce talk to you.
“Fine,” you answered him while placing the clipboard on the side table. “I know you have questions, I see the cogs turning, so just ask me already.”
“It’s… it’s not that we’re trying to theorize, sis, we’re trying to find out what to ask first.” Tim to the rescue. “We have no idea where to start.”
“Let me say the basics then,” you crossed your arms. “I died in 2019. Official cause of death was severe blood loss. I woke up here, somewhat together and sitting in the middle of a field. Shortly after I was found by a couple, around the same age as you, Bruce. The woman was a baker and the man was the then Captain of the Knights. After a few months of them helping me get back on my feet, I wanted to repay their gratitude. I either worked for their bakery, or I put my near decade of observing all of you to good use. I went with the latter, joined that year’s class of cadets, took three advancement exams, and now I’m here as one of the leading captains of the knights.” You gave the facts only, that’s all they needed. “After my third advancement, the royal family handed out “blessings” to those who survived the advancement, enhanced powers that were supposed to help us out in the field. It’s why you’ve seen Carter make fire from nothing, Alex pull people from themselves, it takes a great deal of energy since they’re synthesized, but in last-ditch efforts, they’re quite helpful. But to avoid droning on about the theory of it, I’ll stop there.” You leaned back now, waiting for them to ask anything.
“So that skill of yours.”
“Not reattachment,” you shook your head. “That was because of some weird black magic shit that Alex cast so I wouldn’t die during my last advancement mission. Apparently, it was royal decree so he couldn’t say no,” you looked at the scars on your wrist. Maybe you were just imagining it, but they seemed to be stretching, as if you were falling apart at the seams.
“So then…” Damian now. “What is your ability?”
“Control over—”
“Captain?” There is a soft knock at the door before it slides in. Marion and Dr. Bronte enter swiftly, the former holding a grim expression, ending the conversation prematurely. “We have your results,” she says while handing the chart to Dr. Bronte. His head shifts slightly, acknowledging everyone in the room.
“They can stay,” you assured him. He responds with a nod. “Everyone, who hasn’t met him, this is Dr. Bronte. He’s been my primary care since landing here.” Bruce extends a hand out to him.
“I’m her father,” he introduces. Marion clears her throat awkwardly when Dr. Bronte makes no moves.
“You’ll have to excuse him, Mr. Wayne. Because of the accident, he prefers not to come into contact with strangers,” she explains.
“Understandable,” he steps back just as Marion moves to be next to you.
“How are the wounds?” You looked under your hospital gown.
“Healed, but with no sign of reattachment.”
“Could I see your hand?” She asks. You stretch your arm out and she gently grasps your arm just above the scars. She brushes over them carefully and observes their connecting points. Dr. Bronte and Marion share a look, and she places a semi-spherical device on your lap. In seconds, it buzzes to life showing an array of images.
“We took a few samples from the open wounds earlier, Cap,” she starts. “These are the videos of your reattachment abilities from your previous physical after we added a shallow cut to your palm. Notice how the red blood cells and your skin cells stretch to cover and compensate for the lost ones while some reach out toward stray drops like magnets, and at the same time notice how fast the platelets react to the injury and cauterize the cut. This next video shows how fast the surrounding skin cells interweave together to close the wound.” This was all information you already knew, but your siblings seemed to listen carefully in their own ways. “Now, these are your current labs. There are no sudden increases in RBC count and the cauterization process is now at an average speed. But, there is a sudden decrease in overall cell activity. A majority of your cells have gone into a stage known as autolysis, they’re breaking down at a rapid rate which is causing the delays in your reattachment.” The video plays as she explains it.
“So, I’m a normal person now,” you tried to put it in layman’s terms.
“Not necessarily, autolysis at this rate doesn’t occur until…” she trails off and Dr. Bronte clears his throat.
“The open wounds, they’re specifically centered around those existing scars you had before entering the Knighthood,” Dr. Bronte steps in and you nod to confirm the information. “To put things bluntly, you’ve entered a state of decomposition, Captain Wayne.”
Now this caught your attention.
Decomposition?
“So she’s a zombie?!” Dick was the one to break the silence.
“You could say that, yes,” the masked doctor nods. “Ironically, it was that chemical that almost ripped your body apart that’s saving you right now, Captain,” Dr. Bronte hands you a small box and, upon opening it, you found several small vials of the βα-V serums you’d so painstakingly researched and, later, painstakingly ingested.
“Just like you had intended, βα-V compound is inherently an enhancer. While you had ingested it, the rate of cell division increased ten-fold and the rush of it all is what sustained your adrenaline levels for so long. If you hadn’t taken it, then it’s no exaggeration to say that you’d be counted among the casualties of that attack,” Marion explains. “So, Dr. Bronte and I ran the calculations and separated what we had left into these dosages. Twice a day, consistent, and twelve hours in between. I’m not completely sure yet, but my fear is that those old scars will start opening again without it, I’d rather err on the safe side,” Marion advises. “You’re going to need this,” she hands you a syringe and you let out a small laugh. “Injection straight into the bloodstream is advised over ingestion.”
“Got it,” you took one of the vials and loaded it into the syringe. You lined the needle against one of your veins and pressed it into your skin. “Should I do it quickly or gradually?”
“Whichever you’re comfortable with,” Dr. Bronte answers. You ripped off the bandaid and pushed the entirety of its contents into you, pulling the empty syringe out and wrapping it in a tissue. You watched the green appear for moments before dissolving into your bloodstream.
“I’ll have the remaining syringes sent to your office, Captain.” She takes the syringe and disposes it into the proper bin. “We’ll run a few more labs now that you’ve started the treatment and we’ll continue to monitor your cell count. You’re welcome to continue doing your duties as Captain, but you need to dial it back. The βα-V serum isn’t as effective when your body is in shambles.”
“Right, right,” you sighed and looked at the vials in your lap and handed it to Marion. “Leave this there too then, please,” you told her.
“Do you have any theories why you’ve stopped reattaching, Captain?” Marion asks. “Anything at all. Any changes to your daily life? Exposure to dangerous chemicals?”
“Nothing has changed except for the fact that there are now destructive monsters destroying the continent,” you answered. That and… You looked around the room.
Them. But they couldn’t have caused this, right? You were certain that there weren’t any meta-viral strands you had to be wary of from your original earth, but in terms of changes they’d have to be the only ones.
“If you can come up with anything at all, Captain, let me know immediately,” Marion says.
“Of course,” you nodded and Dr. Bronte stood up.
“We’ll take our leave,” he says with a stiff salute. Marion responds in kind and you dismiss them.
Again the room falls into silence, and luckily it didn’t last long.
“Captain, brought you a pick me up,” Alex enters the room with Constantine, handing you your drink and placing the rest on the table. “There’s some for everyone, feel free to help yourselves,” he says.
“Reeks of magic all over the place,” Constantine exasperates. “For somewhere that relies so much on tech, seems like magic’s just as important.”
“They are warring factions,” you hummed, thinking back to the war that had embroiled the continent just a few years ago. “Well, how’s the search?” You asked Constantine.
“Your daemons might be magic,” Constantine answers. You drank your coffee.
“Better than nothing,” you sighed and handed another paper to Alex. “That’s next month’s assignments, since you’re acting Captain I’ll trust you to disperse everyone,” you said.
“Certainly,” Alex nods. “Sorry to contribute to the crowd, I’ll leave after discussing one more thing with you,” he says.
“It’s fine, just ask away,” your hand gestured toward him.
“Are you alright?” He asks. You paused your movements and looked at him.
The whole time they’ve been here, they haven’t spoken to you once aside to ask why, and there they were in their little corner filled with questions that you probably had the answers to, and yet they still didn’t ask you. That wall that separated you from them, after all these years, it was still there. Higher than ever. Even if Tim was sitting right next to you, even if Damian was sleeping next to you just minutes earlier.
You’re still a stranger to them, and they to you.
“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I should be asking you, you look horrible, should I ask Henry to fill in more?”
“Please, Henry can’t do half of what we do. I’ll take a day off tomorrow though if all’s in order.” Despite his reassurance, your worries only grew. The dark circles under his eyes, the hallowed cheeks, and the overall sallowness worried you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so drained, actually, he almost looked dead. And here you were, properly rested and looking more alive than ever disregarding the worrisome scars. And it wasn’t just you either, you could see the way Constantine noticed your worry, and you could tell he felt the same.
“Granted,” you finally answered. “Anyway, isn’t there a rule about how many people can come in during visitation?” You asked aloud.
“Doesn’t apply to family,” Alex answers. The door slid open again with a slam and this time your poor assistant came in.
“Cap, it’s an emergency,” he looks around with frenzied eyes, “the Colonel's back and he’s—”
“Where is she?!” A voice boomed down the hospital corridors and, somehow, it seemed to shake the very walls. “I swear to fucking god if she’s missing any body part I’ll destroy the lot of you! The fuck kind of report is this anyway?! Captain Wayne in critical condition, don’t make me fucking laugh, she reattaches faster than I can even say the goddamn word, how badly must you all have fucked up for her not to?!”
“Oh god, here comes the cavalry, open the window for me, Aldryn,” you shook your head just as a new person entered the room. An overbearing aura fills the small space in an instant, it's the same feeling one would feel when they realized they’re outclassed, outnumbered, or outplanned. And the only thing that changed was the addition of this one individual. Then again, it was understandable. Anyone who marched into a hospital room covered in blood, riddled with scars, and with a just lit cigarette would be shocked.
“Beat it, Aldryn,” the man juts his thumb over his shoulder and the other rushes out. “Jesus Christ,” the Colonel grimaces while putting the cigarette out in a nearby potted plant, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he shifts his weight onto one leg and looks at the state of you. “Been a while since you had to stay in a hospital room.”
“Colonel MacLennan,” the nurse finally catches up with him, “visitation… is full,” she huffs. He holds his hand up and gently urges her out of the room.
“I’ll be in and out.” He takes the liberty of closing the door. The Colonel was originally away on another continent for a foreign aid mission and recently returned back after its conclusion, however, despite his distance he had also been keeping an eye on the monster problem. “So, what the hell happened? Tell me the good part so I know what to tell Claire, then tell me the bad part so I can find out how to kill the bastards.”
“Oh, yeah, your rifle was so helpful,” you scoffed. And just like that the tension broke.
“The hell do you mean?!”
“Go figure bullets don’t work on mutated monsters.” You pick up the clipboard back up and feign boredom.
“That rifle saved thousands of lives in the war!”
“And yet it hasn’t taken a single one since its reinstatement.”
“You little,” Allistor takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you, you see your old mate after years and you don’t say anything?” He turns to Constantine.
“You looked like you were busy,” he raises his hands in turn and you push yourself off of bed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” different voices chimed and you found yourself being pushed back down by Tim.
“We still don’t know how your body is reacting to the chemicals, take it easy,” Tim advises you.
“Actually, I think I might be the only one who knows how it reacts,” you corrected. “Relax, I just wanted to sit up is all,” you brushed him off and adjusted the pillow behind you. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, it wasn’t an injury to warrant a return to the Capital.”
“Of course I had to come back, did a daemon hit you over the head so hard you forgot how to take care of yourself?!”
“You couldn’t have at least, I don’t know, showered before coming in? You’re going to attract minor monsters here, you know.”
“Like you couldn’t just step on them and have it over with,” he argues. “Have you even seen the mission report?” Allistor grimaces. “It was gruesome, that’s what it was, you know I’m still your guardian, right? What would I be if I didn’t check on you after reading that,” he shakes his head. “Anyway, why the hell’s this room so stuffy, it’s crowded in here,” he complains.
“You could say that again,” you groaned. “Allistor, this is my family. My older brother Dick, my younger brothers Tim and Damian, and the man who raised me, Bruce,” you pointed at each of them as you introduced them. “Family, this is my boss, Allistor MacLennan,” you introduced him last. “Apparently you know Constantine already so there’s no need to introduce him.”
“We shared a drink a few years ago,” Constantine corrects.
“An oversimplification of what happened, but whatever. What’s your prognosis?” Allistor presses. “Your boss who took you into his family is worried,” he snarks back.
“What do you think? Bedrest until my body reattaches properly again,” you grumbled, looking down at the stitched wounds along your scars. “You can tell Claire that I’m fine, she doesn’t have to come over too.”
“Christ, kid,” Allistor drags a tired hand down his face. “You really know how to make someone worry. I only approved that weird chemical you and Mary were working on because I thought it gave you something to do outside of training, I didn’t expect it to put you in a hospital bed,” he says.
“So you’re pulling funding from it?” You asked.
“No, it’s too far in development anyway,” he shakes his head. “Plus, looks like you’ll be needing more of it now.” The conversation dies out, and you finish your cup of coffee in the meantime.
“Any other questions?” You ask him.
“No, I’ll leave now that I’ve seen you in one piece,” he says. “Alex, take a few days, you look like you’re about to keel over there. I can pick up any of (Y/N)’s tasks.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it,” Allistor looks around the room one last time. “About that thing you asked, Alex.”
“Hm?”
“You were right. Cosmo never returned his watch.” You looked up from the clipboard now. Then you turned to Alex. It wasn’t Constantine he called that day. “Makes sense, he went straight to the first subjugation from his mission in E-34. And since there was no body to recover the watch never made it back either.”
“I see, thank you,” he nodded.
“Yeah, but… Figured I’d mention it now since I would’ve told (Y/N) anyway,” Allistor rubbed the back of his head harshly. “But don’t take it as an invitation. (Y/N), don’t poke your nose into anything too dangerous.”
“I know,” you answer him in a way to cut the topic and Allistor catches on easily. “Just quit nagging and go already, Aldryn will give you the rundown.”
“Would you rather me nag or Claire?”
“This whole thing is going to drive me insane,” you slammed the clipboard on the table and Alex sighed.
“Want me to keep looking into any dimension fluxes?”
“If you could, that would be helpful, do it after your break,” you told him. ‘When did you ask the Colonel to look into Cosmo’s gear?”
“After Damian landed here. There’s no other way to get into this dimension without it so I figured that one of them had to be missing, but it still doesn’t add up,” he answers. You took the tablet now and opened a file. A debrief projects and you turn it so your siblings could see it.
“Allow me to explain. If you haven’t noticed, the knights primarily work in trios. There were six of us in the Brigade until the daemon attacks started. The first time we ran into a mutated daemon was on the outskirts of the town Helio, where frequent wildfires had been reported. All six of us went, but we got too cocky, didn’t have a good plan against a daemon we had no info on, and so one of us stayed behind to fight. Fire took everything, all that was left behind was a necklace and a sword,” you explained. “We assumed the watch melted in the fire, they’re not very heat resistant, you see, even Carter has to be mindful of his temperature with the newer models. So your theory is that someone got their hands on Cos’ watch and now they’re wreaking havoc,” you finish with a question and Alex answers with a nod.
“It’s all I have to work with,” he says. Tim looks over the details carefully.
“Sounds right to me, but you know more than us in this situation, (Y/N),” Dick says. “All I can tell you is how we found it in the first place.”
“I’ll take anything.”
“I assumed it was yours only because it was on your seat after you left,” Tim says. “But now that I think about it, there’s no way I can know if someone dropped it off while I was knocked out, and your friends made sure to cut all the cameras during your escape too so we can’t even fall back on that.”
“I see.”
“For what it’s worth, it’s the same watch that sent us here too,” Tim adds on.
“Do you still have it?”
“No, Zee zapped it to the manor while she was trying to bring Jason and Tim back,” Constantine answers. “Did you need it?”
“It’d definitely help track who used it last.”
“Hypothetically,” Tim clears his throat.
“Hm?”
“Could it also do that if it was broken?” Tim asks quietly. You blink.
“Which one of you broke it.”
“For the record, I was trying to get it back so we could study it more. I have no clue what Jason wanted it for.”
“Well, there goes the main lead,” you shrugged. “Gotta look around for a different avenue then,” you turned to Alex, who leaned against the table next to you.
Then, for the final time, the door opens.
“Your Highness,” you fixed your expression quickly just as Allistor and Alex stood at attention.
“At ease,” he says, seemingly reading the room quite quickly. “I have a message for you from the Queen,” he looks around. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”
“Just say it, your highness.”
“You’re ending your bedrest early, your services are required.”
“Does the Queen know her perfect soldier’s not reattaching anymore?”
“You’re not reattaching?” The Prince is shocked.
“Nope, Dr. Bronte wanted me to wait until the wounds are healed over before doing anything intensive,” you explained. “‘Fraid I can’t do work right now.”
“That’s…” the Prince swallows harshly. “It can’t wait,” he says with a more serious tone.
“Look, Your Highness, I know your word is law but what good will (Y/N) be if she worsens her condition,” Alex cuts in. The Prince glares at him and he matches his look. “Whatever it is—”
“The Queen is demanding for the Dark Knight,” Calvin blurts out. Your jaw clenches just as you feel the attention turn to you.
“That’s out of the question. Even for our normal operations we need to be in top condition, going on a special ops mission could put so much strain that I might actually lose a limb.” You chanced a glance at your hand, the scars more prominent than ever.
“Please, you know as well as I do that this is just a formality,” Calvin argues. He looks you over. “You’re fine.” You’ve never heard him take that tone before.
“Take it up with Bronte then,” Allistor argues.
“It’s a royal order.”
“Doctor’s orders can overwrite those if they believe the patient’s health is not in the best interest,” Allistor cited. “How long are you going to argue, Your Highness?”
“Give me a few days then, I’ll report in as soon as I can, and I’m not stupid enough to disregard Dr. Bronte’s diagnosis,” you finally answered. If you said no the Queen would’ve come here herself to tell you to do it anyway, and you didn’t want her crossing paths with your family unless absolutely necessary. As long as you don’t strain yourself too much it should be fine anyway, you think. Calvin seemed to relax at this.
“We’ve sent the details over.”
“Figured. Is there anything else you need, Your Highness?” You open the file on the holoscreen and start to read the details.
“No, that’s all.”
“Actually, perfect timing, Your Highness, I’ll give you the debrief on my mission,” Allistor kicks off the wall and approaches the prince, urging him out of the room. “Top secret stuff, we should leave.”
“Ah, yes—” Allistor shuts the door behind them.
“Is it… is it really just a formality?” Tim asks after a short pause. “You’re really fine?”
“You saw the labs, and you see me now. If anything I should just be more mindful of just tanking my way through enemies,” you say.
“I was just thinking… they haven’t even set up a heart monitor for you, how would they be able to tell if you’re stable?” Tim looks at the unplugged device with its wires wrapped around the base. “I haven’t seen another doctor or nurse walk by aside from the ones who’ve been helping you…”
“Drake, I could use your insight, actually,” Alex interrupts him. “All of you could help, really. It might speed up this whole daemon process faster,” he clears his throat. “You’re outside sources, and Constantine and I are gathering as much information as we can from the daemons, if you’re okay with answering a few questions. Might get you home earlier if we can crack it,” he says.
“Yes, we should focus on the pressing task,” you push yourself up and feel the scars stretching. “Unnff,” you winced and held your hand up, already feeling Tim’s hand hovering behind you. “Just need air, this room’s stuffy,” you moved toward the window and looked outside before settling on its sill. “Anything else you need from me?” You looked around the room.
“Nothing too pressing, Captain,” Alex answers.
“Good, I’ll take my leave too then,” you cleared your throat. It was silent for a moment and you looked down the window before glancing at the clock. You leaned backward and the first person you saw halfway out the window was Dick.
“Are you crazy?!” He shouts.
“Relax! I got her!” Jason shouts under you, catching you easily and setting you down. “I’m not gonna die for helping you break out of hospital jail, right?”
“Nope, let’s go,” you ran off as soon as the door slammed open. You both took off, seeing your motorcycle parked and at the ready.
“Here, you be backpack,” Jason shoved the helmet in your hand and you pushed it back.
“What? No! You be backpack!” Jason pushed the helmet back into your hands.
“Hell no, I’m bigger therefore I need more space.” You groaned and pushed it back to him.
“And I’m shorter therefore it makes more sense for me to be in the front! And you’d have less space in the front!” Jason tries to pull the helmet from your hands and you pull back.
“Womp womp, you’re backpack.”
“It’s my bike!”
“I’m older!”
“Fine! Just give me the helmet!” He tries to tug it harder and you pull back, seeing him lose his footing for a second.
“No! You’re just going to shove it on my head and make me backpack!”
“When’d you get so strong anyway?!”
“Shut up and let me drive!”
“Busted,” Dick pulled the helmet from between your hands. You and Jason paused.
“Bruce says we’re both hardheaded anyway,” you climbed on the motorcycle and Jason was quick to follow. You revved the engine and left dust in your trail.
“You two, I swear!” Dick shouts from far behind.
“So where are we going anyway?!” Jason shouts over the air.
“Keep your mouth shut, you’ll catch a bug,” you grinned, revving forward and completing your escape.
You read the mission details. You really did have to deal with this now. The daemon problem was bad enough, and you knew that you couldn’t deal with another war on top of that.
~
Earth - 617
“Thank you so much, Cass,” Zatanna smiles as the former hands her a warm mug.
“Sure,” she crosses her arms and continues to watch Zatanna work away.
“I still can’t believe it, was (Y/N) really here?” Barbara asks. “We didn’t even get to see her, I bet those boys said something stupid and chased her out,” she shakes her head. “She… she was really going through it those last few days, I can only imagine how her mind spun when she returned,” she frowns.
“Cass, what do you think?” Stephanie asks. “You were closest to her.”
“I don’t understand why it affected her so much,” Cass mumbles. “Almost all of us aren’t blood-related,” she says, “I don’t understand why she…” she stumbles over her words and falls silent.
“It’s okay Cass, you don’t have to force it,” Steph says.
“Oh! I think I got it!” Zatanna finishes tinkering with the watch and holds it up, the piece now put back together. “The only thing is, I’m not sure if the enchantment on it would still work,” she says, placing it on the console of the bat computer. “I’ll look into it more tomorrow, I don’t want to accidentally trigger it without fully understanding how it works like those other two did.”
“Fair enough,” Barbara nods. She had been trying to send a message to any of the boys’ comms all day but hadn’t had any success. Luckily, her distress signal to the League was answered and soon enough they’d have a few extra support from other heroes in Batman’s absence but she was worried that it wouldn’t be enough. The region was down five vigilantes, and soon enough the villains will take notice.
But the conversation fell on deaf ears. Cass hadn’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened, and it bothered her that nothing made sense about it. She knew that Tim wasn’t the type to let anything suspicious slide, so why did he let you stay for so long without confronting you? Why did you act the way you did?
“So frustrating…” she muttered, now alone in the bat cave and staring at the mocking watch. True to Zatanna’s words, it had been hastily put back together and looked to be in shape. Whether it worked or not was yet to be seen, however. She picked it up, the chain threading around her hands, and with extreme caution, she opened it up. Just the same as before she saw the layers of clock hands atop a starry watchface. “Hm…” she closed it and turned it around again before focusing on the watch cover. She squints carefully and sees another opening on it and, out of curiosity, she pried it open. This time it sported a normal watch face, well, semi-normal. She pulled up on the attachment and hummed again. Not often you see sundials as big as your hand. But, perhaps even more curious, was the picture on the backside of the cover. A blonde woman who she’d never seen before with a smile as warm as the sun. Handwritten in small print were the words ‘Come home safe, Cosmo.’
“Cosmo, huh?” Cass closes the watch and stares up at the bat computer, watching the figure talking to Damian over and over again. But distractions were just that. Distractions. And soon she once again felt that foreign emotion climb up inside of her. She truly should have tried harder that night three years ago. All of this, all of this had to be some kind of sick karma.
~
2019 - Gotham University
“(Y/N)? What is all this?” Cassandra asked quietly. You stumbled to your feet, dropping the syringe in your hands, then knocking over the other syringes on the lab table to the ground and the shattering glass caused you to jump. Cass looked around the lab, splotches of red on the tables and floors, unknown serums were mixed into beakers, and syringes— so many syringes— in the glass waste cans everywhere.
“Cassie, I didn’t hear you come in,” you picked up the glass from the ground and disposed of it, then you wiped off the blood on your hands while ignoring the fresh drops that came from the small cuts that littered your palms. “Just my thesis, no worries. I’d never seen it get this crazy though,” you laughed quietly. “Then again, rats aren’t exactly supposed to blow up so there’s that too,” you sighed. “What’s wrong?”
Cass freezes in her spot, her mind overwhelmed by all the signals you were throwing at her, signals that just weren’t supposed to come from you. They were so powerful that she could almost feel them herself.
Dilated pupils, shaking hands —> Anxiety
Tense shoulders, clenched jaw —> Stress
Even breathing, controlled movements —> Understanding?
Why were all of your movements conflicting?
Bloodied hands, chipped nails, whitened knuckles —> Stress
Hunched posture, shifting eyes —> Stress
“Cassie?”
Quiet voice.
“Sorry, must look like a crime scene in here.” She watched you pick up the carcasses from the tables and drop them into biohazard. “I must have gotten too excited, I thought I finally cracked the code.” You washed your hands off after scrubbing the blood from the tables. And all the while, Cass watched you.
You scrubbed the blood off the tables so harshly that the pads of your hands lightened from the pressure. You scrubbed them over and over again as if you didn’t know the blood had been cleaned off already. Then you repeated it with your hands.
Conclusion —> Something is very wrong.
“What…” she muttered.
“Hm?” You rubbed the towel over your hands repeatedly.
“What were you about to inject there?” She asks. You shake your head.
“Ah, don’t even worry about it,” you shook your head and tossed the towel before shoving your hands in your labcoat’s pockets. You were lying. You always hid your hands when you lied. “Just a little project, is all. I felt like the syringe wasn’t working so I was testing the tip on myself.”
“Right over your vein?” You fell silent.
“What are you doing here, Cass?” You asked monotonously. “Dick and Tim have already asked me to come home. I won’t. I can’t. Not until I finish this. He won’t let me come back there until I’ve proven myself.”
“Proven what? Come home, (Y/N). What are you doing to yourself?” Cass couldn’t stop it. The signals kept coming. “You’re going to work yourself to death, (Y/N), and for what? You and Bruce fight all the time, just come home and apologize!”
“I’m not in the wrong, Cass! It wasn’t my fault but he kept saying it was!” Your hand smacked your chest now while the other held onto the table for support. “How was I supposed to know that I wasn’t his daughter?!” Your shoulders slumped and Cass’s expression dropped.
“What are you talking about? You’re (Y/N) Wayne.”
“I thought I was too,” your whole body seemed to sink. “How was I supposed to know I was the cuckoo bird…” you mumbled.
“You can’t be talking about that article that came out, (Y/N). That’s just gossip and you know it,” she says.
“I know, I know but I looked into it anyway. You know I always did wonder why I was so ordinary compared to my parents,” you looked at your hands, convinced there was still blood on them. “I know Selina and I aren’t related. She was just the unfortunate soul who my mother found first. But I was so convinced that Bruce was my father that I didn’t even consider the possibility that he wasn’t.”
“Why does that matter, (Y/N)? None of us are his biological children except for Damian.”
“Because…” you mumbled the rest, clutching your head and digging that hand into the roots of your hair to stop the incoming headache.
“Because what?” Cass took careful steps toward you.
“He told me that I couldn’t come home until I proved that I had some value to this family,” your voice was hopeless. “If I’m not a blood Wayne then I have nothing else.”
“I’m sure that’s not…”
“Then why did he say that to me then, Cass?” You squeezed your eyes shut. “It’s too late for me to become a vigilante, I don’t have the time or the luxury for that.”
“What were you planning to do?” Cass looks around the lab again. “(Y/N)?” She knew that the syringe looked oddly green.
“Nothing, I wasn’t going to do anything,” you straightened your posture as if nothing had happened. Carefully, she took another step toward you, and now you stood at arm’s length.
Dark circles, sunken cheeks —> Sleep deprived
Chapped lips, dry eyes —> Dehydrated
Thinned hair, pale skin —> Deficient
“Cass?” Had your voice been so hoarse? She took a step forward and pulled you into her arms. Slowly, you relaxed into them, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth as you carefully wrapped your own around her. Your hug that was so famously warm was now the opposite, the tightness of it that your family sought after was missing, but the love behind it was still there. “I love my family, Cass. I don’t want to leave you all,” you said into her shoulder.
“Then come home,” she says against your head.
“I can’t.” Cass could feel your tears drop onto her shoulder. “Cass, he won’t let me,” you insisted.
“That doesn’t sound like Bruce,” she says, pulling away just enough to look at you. But soon, and once again, her expression falls when she sees your face.
“I know.”
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