Chapter Text
Kaldur rolled his shoulders as he entered the kitchen of Mount Justice, feeling the lingering soreness of a heavy hit from the team’s last mission together. His thick Atlantean skin had protected him from the worst of the damage, but the bruised muscle of his left shoulder throbbed in a silent protest to his morning swim. It was a minor nuisance – one he knew would pass in another day or two, from more experience with such injuries than his pride would care to admit – but one that bothered him nonetheless.
M’gann cheerfully levitated a cookie toward him, and he took it with a smile. Her baking had improved vastly over the seven years since the formation of the Young Justice League. Even so, he was careful to smell it – looking appreciative of the chocolatey aroma, of course, not cautious at all – before he put it in his mouth. M’gann’s long history of baking mishaps had the same effect as his history of injuries: an abundance of experience, caution, and managed expectations. The still-warm cookie seemed to melt in his mouth, leaving a strange aftertaste as he swallowed. She had likely decided at the last minute that the recipe was wrong, and added something. But he thanked her anyway, and the Martian beamed at Conner’s side.
He could hear Wally and Artemis through the door that connected the kitchen to the recreational area. They were arguing about something – and weren’t they always – and he shot a questioning look toward Conner.
“Remote.” The super clone grunted. “Lost again.”
Much had changed over seven years, but more had stayed the same.
Recognized: Superman 01
Kaldur looked up at the zeta beam’s announcement. He exchanged looks with Conner and M’gann, and the three moved quickly toward the door. The cookies were left abandoned on the counter, though Kaldur was certain they would be long gone by the time the mission brief actually began, if a certain speedster was aware of them.
Sure enough, as Wally and Artemis joined them in the briefing room, he spotted a suspicious smudge of chocolate at the corner of the speedster’s mouth. He allowed himself a small smile. Yes, some things stayed just as they had always been.
The rough-hewn walls, lined with pipes and doors, were as familiar now as the halls of his home in Atlantis. Superman stood in the center of the cavernous room, waiting for them with his back straight and eyes fixed on the team as they entered. A mission, then, he speculated silently. The founding League member was always subconsciously more casual when he came just to check in or assist with training. He’d been that way since the early days of the team, even when he and Conner couldn’t even manage eye contact, let alone a civil conversation.
Kaldur had a sneaking suspicion that it had been Black Canary’s idea to assign Superman as the one to deliver missions to the team, likely a way to force the Kryptonian and his clone together, though he was wise enough to keep it to himself. Whether it had been her intention or not, it had worked: Superman and Superboy were at ease with each other now, even having spent weekends at the Kent family farm in Kansas.
And it only took five years to happen, Kaldur shook his head, resisting the smile that tugged at his lips.
“You have a mission for us?” Wally beamed through chocolate-stained teeth, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He may be an adult in every legal sense, but even now his energy matched his hero name of Kid Flash.
“Obviously.” Artemis snorted, rolling her eyes. She tossed her hair in a way that anyone else might have called flirtatious, but that she would surely have called disdainful. “He wouldn’t be here right now if he didn’t. And I hope you left some cookies for the rest of us, Kid Stomach.” The last was delivered in a low, growling threat.
Wally gulped, and opened his mouth, likely to instigate a new round of bickering.
Superman had waited patiently for them to finish. Kaldur did not.
“Artemis, Wally.” The Atlantean called their attention. They settled quickly, their snipping little more than a token effort these days. He wondered if they’d ever really get over the childish, petty rivalry that had begun the moment Artemis had joined the team instead of Red Arrow. There was no real heat to their arguments anymore, but Kaldur wondered if they’d ever manage maturity when within earshot of each other.
“There’s something that the League needs you to check out.” Superman finally started. “It’s a little…different from your usual missions. We considered the other team for this, but they’re busy on another mission right now, and as this may end up being a much more covert operation, we decided you are the best qualified to handle this.” The Kryptonian hero seemed hesitant, brows drawn together in a frown. He visibly considered his words as he spoke them. His uncertainty was out of character, and it unintentionally ensured the unwavering attention of the entire team.
“Recently, the Justice League came across reports of a new mask, one we’ve never heard of before.” He continued, only to get interrupted.
“That’s not so different.” Wally tilted his head to the side, and Kaldur watched Artemis nearly choke on the taunt she swallowed. “We’ve made contact with a lot of new heroes. What’s so different about this guy?”
“It could be a girl, Baywatch.” Artemis pointed out. “He didn’t say it was a guy, this could be a new female hero, you don’t know.”
“Hey, I didn’t say it couldn’t be! Heck, I’d be stoked if—”
“Wally, Artemis, please.” Kaldur implored. When they allowed themselves to be silenced by his weary tone, Kaldur gestured for Superman to continue.
“While it is true, Kid Flash, that you have been the first to contact many new heroes, this situation is a little different. This new mask is very secretive about their operation. We aren’t sure when they started, and are only aware of them now because of a news story that was run a few days ago.” Superman turned as he finished, keying up a video on the holo screens behind him.
A woman, blonde hair perfectly coiffed and makeup done, appeared in a news studio. She sat behind a broad desk, papers stacked in front of her as she stared impassively into the camera. Kaldur didn’t recognize her, so the news wasn’t likely national or even local to anywhere near Mount Justice.
“There’s a new face in Blüdhaven, or perhaps, an old one. Officially reported for the first time only a week ago, we finally have an image of the masked man that’s been reportedly stalking Blüdhaven’s streets at night.” She announced. The city name sounded vaguely familiar, though Kaldur couldn’t place it. On the screen, the image changed to show a blurry photograph. A man in a dark, formfitting one-piece suit was caught by the camera at the moment of landing on a rooftop across the street from the civilian cameraman. The details of his face were lost behind windswept dark hair and a wide domino mask, but the lines of his body were easy for the experienced heroes to read: strong, lithe, and trained, the landing perfectly balanced. Despite it being a still image, Kaldur could easily imagine the fluid way the man would move. One look at the image, and he got a distinct impression, the same one that he got each time he’d come across the League of Shadows: danger.
“Since his reported debut last week,” the woman was continuing, “twenty-three other people have come forward to report their own encounters with this mysterious masked man, the earliest from a full year and a half ago. While they’re all being verified by the proper authorities, we can’t help but ask: how could someone like this hide in Blüdhaven for so long without being reported? Is this a new hero, taking on the responsibility of keeping Blüdhaven’s streets safe, or is he the newest installment of the city’s notorious underground? We—”
Superman paused the clip, image frozen over his shoulder.
“See? It’s a dude!” Wally crowed. Artemis ignored him entirely.
“Did she say Blüdhaven?” She asked instead, voice tight with incredulity. Superman nodded somberly. “Does that mean…is he related to the Batman of Gotham?”
“Why would he be related to Batman?” Wally asked, triumph abandoned in favor of curiosity. “Are you saying the Batman had a kid, and sent him to another random city to beat up guys there?”
“I’m not saying the Batman had a kid, Baywatch.” Artemis frowned at the speedster. “And he doesn’t have to be his kid to be related to him through an alliance or training. Plus, this isn’t just some random city. It’s Blüdhaven. Gotham’s sister city. There’s no way this guy is there as a vigilante without Batman knowing, and maybe even approving.”
Kaldur found himself staring at the blurry image, trying to decide if there was an insignia there or not. He wished the photo was higher quality, that they had more to go on than a strong man in a dark suit with dark hair.
“We are not sure how long this new vigilante has been operating in Blüdhaven, but we are worried that there may be some possible connection to the Batman due to the cities’ proximity.” Superman explained, “We doubt it, but at the same time, we cannot afford another Batman. One city, held by vigilantes and inaccessible to the League, lawless men doing whatever they want and calling it justice, is more than enough.
“Normally, we’d send a member of the Justice League, or, given the apparent youth of this new mask, a couple of you. However, with the potential tie to Gotham’s Batman – however slim a chance it may be – we are sending the entire covert operations team. We need you to track down this vigilante, and, given his proclivity for staying hidden, we feel that you may have a better chance than us.” Superman paused, lips quirking in amusement. “Honestly, we don’t think that sending a highly visible public figure like myself or Wonder Woman would result in an actual conversation with a flighty, secretive vigilante. We’re lucky it worked with Green Arrow, and this new man seems more paranoid than Arrow ever was.”
“So you want us to try and contact him, because it would be easier to talk with him as Young Justice than sending in the actual Justice League?” Wally looked almost put out.
“Hello, Megan!” She tapped her forehead lightly with the heel of one hand. “It’s because we’d seem like less of a threat to him!” M’gann beamed proudly at Superman’s agreement.
“We’re just as strong as the Justice League.” Conner growled, shoulders tensing and hands fisting. Kaldur fought down a sigh. As much as Conner’s ability to read social cues and respond accordingly had improved vastly over the years, some things just never changed.
“Your skill and strength are not in doubt here,” Superman reassured quickly, and Conner relaxed fractionally. “It’s a matter of tactics. Consider this: when you were first pulled from the Cadmus labs, who were you more comfortable around: Aqualad and Kid Flash, or Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman?”
Conner seemed to consider, then accept the answer, shifting his weight back into a less aggressive stance and releasing his hands.
“It’s about appearing as an invitation, not a threat.” Artemis agreed.
“So we’re inviting him to join?” Wally frowned, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. What if he’s a bad dude?”
“We are not extending an invitation to the League, but rather to join under the League’s charter, so he will have access to allies if needed, and perhaps one day become a full member of Young Justice and then the League itself.” Superman clarified. “However, you also have a point in that we don’t know this young man yet. That’s what we’re asking for you to discover.”
Superman’s focus shifted from Wally to Kaldur. “Your mission is to locate and make contact with Blüdhaven’s new mask. Talk to him, learn about him, and find out if he’s a hero, a vigilante, or a villain. We trust you to act on whatever you discover – either bring him to the Justice League as a potential ally, or in cuffs as a defeated villain.
“I doubt you will need any backup from the League on this one. Speculation that this is a protégé of Batman’s is thin. The first two Robins both disappeared years ago, and the recent two still patrol Gotham with the Batman, last we heard. There’s never been an official list of Gotham’s vigilantes, and since Gotham keeps the news of its masks inside city boundaries, we don’t even have names for the vigilantes we do know about. But according to what we know, none of them have gone missing more recently than two years ago, when one of the female vigilantes – Batwoman, she was dubbed – disappeared from the crime fighting scene.” Superman explained.
“So I don’t think it’s likely that any of Gotham’s vigilantes have moved to Blüdhaven. As far as we know, the Batman, the two Robins, and the man who sometimes fights with them – previously as a masked man, and now under a red helmet – are all still active in Gotham. The Batman doesn’t seem the type to let anyone out of his control so easily.” The massive hero shrugged his caped shoulders. “But, the geographical closeness of the cities can’t be ignored, so we’re sending all of you as a precaution. I doubt this new mask will be able to match your skill level, even if he does have a full year and a half of vigilantism under his belt. Fighting gangs and muggers is very different from fighting trained heroes. However, as always, the League is available as backup should he prove more dangerous than anticipated.”
Kaldur could already see Conner and Artemis balking at the idea that anything was ‘too much of a challenge’ for the team, and Wally’s open determination to once again prove himself more than just a former sidekick.
“Your housing arrangements, and all other relevant information are on here.” Superman handed Kaldur a tablet, seemingly oblivious to the defiance in the room. “You have an appointment with the chief of Blüdhaven’s police department at 2 pm. He’s agreed to assign a detective to work with you in the city. I’m told someone has already been chosen to assist. So report to Chief Redhorn when you arrive, and he’ll introduce you.
“Any questions?”
They all looked to each other, but shook their heads. Superman bade them farewell, then left, cape whispering across the ground.
“Alright, team, let’s meet at the bioship in twenty minutes.” Kaldur instructed. “We’ll leave immediately so we have plenty of time to find an appropriate place to park the ship before we have to report to the chief of police. Pack for an extended stay, in case this turns out more difficult than we believe.” The team nodded their confirmations, and disappeared.
Kaldur strode down the hall toward his own quarters, feeling the weight of leadership settle squarely on his shoulders once more.
***
Detective Dick Grayson rubbed at his face as he glared down at the form he was filling out. It had been two years, give or take, since he’d joined the Blüdhaven Police Department. Two years, and he was already a detective through a large amount of work, and an even larger number of overtime hours. Two years, and he still couldn’t stand the paperwork that came with the job.
Of course, it was hard to be enthusiastic about papers that seemed to get lost more often than they were actually submitted to the courts. He knew this case was likely to end up a victim of the BPD’s filing butter fingers – he had a sneaking suspicion it would end up implicating one of the many dirty cops in his precinct – but he would rather spend another hour with Joker and his bat than be the one responsible for evidence not making it to trial.
The open room of the bullpen was buzzing around him. Officers finished reports or took statements, returned calls and chatted with coworkers. The bland cream walls and plain laminate flooring were almost clean, the permanent scum of grime an appropriate metaphor for the department itself. Desks were pushed together in pairs, and often shared across shifts, as were the lockers in the adjoining room.
Dick’s own desk was what he was sure Alfred would call chaos incarnate, files stacked haphazardly, and papers mixed together. He had two empty coffee mugs on one corner away from his computer monitor, stacked one atop another. Half-dead pens were grouped together in a pile to one side.
Overall, the desk was disorganized, messy, and entirely intentional. He knew exactly where everything was, and without it being a pristine environment, anyone who messed with his desk would be hard-pressed to put it back to exactly how it had been. He didn’t like being as paranoid as his previous guardian had been, but it had paid off several times already, and honestly it was more of a habit than anything else.
Dick startled slightly – really only the tiniest flinch, but fighting instincts are hard to suppress, Bruce, don’t you look at me like that – as a cup of coffee appeared an inch from his nose. He took it, looking up to see Sergeant Amy Rohrbach, his partner and sometimes friend. Dick sipped the coffee, humming appreciatively at the unholy amounts of cream and sugar she’d put into it. She really did know him.
She settled back against the side of her desk opposite his – her work area impeccable where his was decidedly ‘peccable – and watched him for a moment. Of average height and build, with mid-length brown hair and matching eyes, Amy wasn’t visually anything out of the ordinary. Her slim build and soft features made many assume that she wasn’t anything special in any sense. Grayson knew, however, that under that pristine uniform was a lot of hard muscle and fast reflexes that made her a skilled and dangerous opponent, and behind those plain brown eyes was a mind far sharper than just about any other in the precinct.
Grayson himself, dressed sloppily in a slightly ill-fitting uniform, was still shorter than he would have liked at only 5’10”, having never reached Bruce or Jason’s height. Every couple of weeks, Amy would tell him to find a uniform that fit him better, and he’d come up with all kinds of excuses, none of which were the truth – the truth being that the baggy fit helped to disguise not only just how heavily muscled he really was, but also sudden changes to his lithe shape, like bulky bandages and braces from nights were he took a few too many hard hits during his nighttime…extracurriculars. Whatever asinine excuse he gave, Amy would hum and shake her head, too smart to truly believe him, but dropping the topic for another few weeks.
She respected his boundaries, and he appreciated that about her. It was a lot more than he got from the others in the precinct, many of whom were still outright antagonistic toward him even after two years.
“Glad to see you’ve joined the rest of us in the Monday frowns.” Amy chuckled. “Your Monday morning cheer was creating a hostile work environment. What’s got you glaring holes in your paperwork now?”
“Evidence forms for the Henderson case.” Dick set down his cup to scribble in a few final details before signing the form. “Found the murder weapon a few blocks from the scene, fingerprints and all. Just where I said it would be.”
“You know, someday you’ll have to let me in on how you do that, Grayson.” Amy shook her head. “If you weren’t such a damn good cop, I’d say you’d committed half the murders we solve, if only because you connect the impossible to figure them out.”
Dick chuckled, taking the compliment for what it was. They drank their coffee in companionable silence for a moment before Amy straightened, the tense line of her shoulders drawing Dick’s eye.
“Chief wants to see us in a few. Wouldn’t say what about.” Amy grimaced.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Not sure why. Hope it’s just a new case.”
“If it were just a new case, Ames, he’d just toss the file at us and tell us to solve it.” Dick snorted, catching the twitch of Amy’s lips over her own mug. “Besides. It’s Monday. Bad things always start on Mondays.”
“I’d forgotten about your perpetual Monday pessimism.” Amy rolled her eyes. “All he told me was to grab you and be at his office at fourteen-hundred sharp, and not a minute late.”
Dick hoped against hope that it was the stack of missing persons cases that had been accumulating in the precinct's backlog of things they pretended to care about. There had been a spike in Bludhaven, and a matching surge in Gotham that his brothers had mentioned as well. He'd done some digging, and a couple other cities had been seeing more homeless, vagrants, and prostitutes disappearing as well. Not that anyone cared other than the occasional well-meaning officer. Something told him that these surges - despite being only a few more missing than normal each month - were more than just drug deaths or migrant population miscounts.
Dick glanced to his monitor, which was off, then twisted to look at the clock on the wall, doing his best to hide his grimace. From Amy’s narrowed eyes, he wasn’t successful. Last night had been unnecessarily difficult, taking down the last stronghold of a gang that had been causing serious trouble for the BPD – and lining a lot of their pockets, unfortunately. He’d needed to make sure they got picked up by the right officers on patrol so they wouldn’t slip back out onto the streets the same night. His distraction during the fight – wondering who was patrolling, and who he’d trust to pick them up – had earned him some fun bruises across his ribs from lucky hits.
He wondered, sometimes, why he even bothered with getting them arrested. They’d be back on the streets soon enough. Criminals just didn’t stay in jail here – something Blüdhaven shared with Gotham.
“Alright, we might as well go then.” He stood, pretending not to notice Amy’s hard look. He tucked the form into the case file on his desk to deliver when he returned form the surprise meeting. “Wouldn’t want to keep Chief waiting.”
“What happened to your ribs, Grayson?”
He could pretend not to notice a look, but pretending not to hear her speak was significantly more difficult.
“Hmm?” Smooth. He wanted to sigh, but held it in.
“What happened to your ribs?” Amy repeated, an edge to her voice.
“The boys.” Dick replied casually, “Got a little too enthusiastic about a game of Smash Bros last night, and it resulted in, well, smashing bros. I made the mistake of getting in the middle of it to split them up. Honestly, I’m lucky they didn’t bruise any deeper.” Dick laughed, and watched Amy’s expression relax. She had a soft spot for his unruly brothers, and he exploited it shamelessly whenever he needed an excuse. “I don’t remember having that sharp of elbows when I was a kid.”
“You’re still a kid, Grayson.” Amy teased, leading the way to Chief Redhorn’s office. Dick fell into step beside her with a mock-offended scoff.
“I am a legal, voting adult, Ames.”
“You still have to pay the special higher rates to rent a car, Grayson. You may be smart, but you’re still too young to be talking about ‘when you were a kid’. Besides, don’t your brothers have school today? What were they doing in your apartment a city away from home on a school night?”
“You’re such a mom, Ames.” Dick laughed. “I made sure they got home in time to get plenty of sleep before school.” More like I got them back through our private zeta tubes in time for them to leave on patrol with Bats.
“I have two kids, Grayson. Of course I’m a mom. Besides, someone has to remind you and your brothers to eat vegetables, and somehow, I got stuck with the job.”
Dick just laughed, and knocked on Chief Redhorn’s door. They heard his deep voice call for them to enter, and he opened the door. He felt his mirth die a terrible death in his throat, and he fought the impulse to groan, sigh, or just simply turn around and walk away, consequences be damned.
In Redhorn’s office stood five of the last people he hadn’t known he didn’t want to see today – six if you included the chief of police, who was one of those in the precinct who made no secret of his dislike for Dick, but Dick wasn’t sure if the chief counted, since he’d known he didn’t want to see Redhorn. Before he could decide just how to react, his phone rang out, and he grimaced as the strident tones of “The Geeks Will Inherit the Earth” filled the sudden silence.
“Ah, sorry Chief, just—just one moment. It’s family.” He leaned out of the doorway, thankful for the interruption and the chance to pull his normal Detective Grayson mask back together before facing the inevitable conversational minefield ahead of him.
“Tim, what’s up? I’m about to walk into a meeting with the Chief, and I’m pretty sure you should be in school.”
“I’m between classes, Mom,” Tim’s voice, accompanied by the sound of his aggressive typing on his current laptop, held the hints of a smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I picked up some chatter from the Big JL. Looks like they’re sending the juniors to come check out your veggie mask.”
Dick wanted to groan. He’d called a vigilante a ‘viggie’ one time and it was misheard as ‘veggie’ just that one time, but his brothers were never going to let it go. He was pretty sure it was the official Batkid code word for vigilante now.
“They’re going through BPD, so head on a swivel and all. And I called because you don’t ever look at your texts, and if you do, you don’t reply half the time. So yeah. Big JL’s babies are looking for a veggie in BH.” Tim finished, voice exasperated. Dick was suddenly very glad of the family assumption that every phone conversation was within earshot of a super – because this one actually was.
“Yeah,” Dick sighed, eyeing the superhero team standing inside Chief Redhorn’s office, “I think I just figured that one out for myself.” He heard his brother’s surprised oh? and a sudden increase in aggressive typing before Tim started to cackle. He’d probably just hacked into BPD’s cameras again, and seen the predicament Dick had found himself in.
And Amy said he was superstitious for thinking that bad things started on Mondays.
“Have fun with that one, Big Bird. Try not to be too, y’know, you.” Tim snickered helpfully. “I’m crashing at your place tonight, by the way. Demon Spawn and Jay, too.”
“Alright. See you tonight. Thanks for calling two minutes too late.” Dick resisted the urge to run a hand through his gelled hair, knowing it would only put his nerves on display. Tim cackled again, and hung up.
He tucked away his phone, and turned back to the office to face whatever hellscape his life was about to become.