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The Justice League Watchtower was supposed to be a place of order, professionalism, and calm. Right now, it was none of those things.
“Get back here, Jordan!”
Hal Jordan wasn’t a coward. He wanted that on the record. He had stared down intergalactic warlords, interdimensional threats, and the occasional reality-warping anomaly without flinching. But right now? Right now, Hal Jordan was sprinting full-tilt down the halls of the Watchtower with every ounce of willpower he had—and not because he was facing some apocalyptic foe.
It was worse.
Robin.
Damian Wayne, the current Robin, was furious. His voice, sharp and commanding, echoed down the pristine metal corridors of the Watchtower as he sprinted after a panicked Hal Jordan.
“I SAID YOU WERE CUTE, OKAY? IS THAT A CRIME?!” Hal shrieked, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rounded a corner.
“It is when directed at me! Prepare to face your demise, Lantern!” Damian snarled, brandishing a gleaming sword he must have smuggled in somehow.
The rest of the Justice League stood frozen in the main briefing room, eyes wide as the spectacle unfolded. Superman looked faintly horrified. Flash leaned against a wall, trying not to laugh out loud. Wonder Woman merely crossed her arms, equal parts bemused and concerned.
“Should we… do something?” Barry finally asked, his voice wavering.
“Do you want to get between him and his target?” Diana countered, arching an eyebrow.
“…Fair point.”
Meanwhile, Batman was lurking in the shadows, as was his habit, his cape draped over his shoulders. He didn’t lift a finger to stop his youngest son from terrorizing one of his colleagues. His silence was unnerving, but his faintly amused expression? That was downright chilling.
“You’re not going to intervene?” Clark asked, incredulous.
“He called him cute,” Batman replied flatly.
“So?”
“He deserves it.”
Before anyone could fully process that, the chaos hit a crescendo. Hal dashed into the room, panting heavily, and scrambled behind Superman like a terrified squirrel. “HELP ME! HE’S INSANE! I’M NOT DYING ON A TUESDAY!”
Damian appeared seconds later, blade raised, eyes glinting with unholy glee. “No one insults Robin and lives to tell the tale!”
“INSULT?! IT WAS A COMPLIMENT!” Hal screeched, climbing Superman as if he were a tree. Anything to put some distance between him and that demon of a child.
Superman raised his hands placatingly, unbothered by the added weight to his shoulders. “Damian, let’s calm down, okay? Hal didn’t mean any harm—”
“Stay out of this, Kent. I have honor to defend.”
“Honor?!” Hal’s voice cracked.
Before things could escalate further, the door to the room slid open with a soft hiss.
“Hey, guys!” Nightwing’s unmistakable voice rang out as he strolled in, a bright grin plastered across his face. He was holding a tray of snacks, of all things. “What’d I miss?”
The League turned to him in unison, their faces a mix of disbelief and shock.
“WHAT YOU MISSED?!” Hal yelped. “THAT!” He jabbed a finger toward Damian, who was still poised like a feral animal about to pounce.
Dick blinked at the scene, tilting his head. “Oh, this? Pfft, that’s nothing. He tried to cut my hand off earlier because I touched his cape. Anyone want snacks?”
“What?” Diana asked, her voice soft but deeply alarmed.
“Yeah, it happens,” Dick said with a shrug, setting the tray down on the table. “Honestly, you guys are getting off easy. He’s been in a great mood today.”
“Great mood?!” Hal practically wheezed. “He’s trying to kill me! He is a demon! You need to do something!”
Dick chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “He’s not a demon, Hal. He’s just passionate. It builds character.”
“Builds character?! He has a sword, Dick!” Barry interjected, his voice shaking with barely restrained laughter.
“Yeah, he’s got, like, five of them,” Dick replied, completely nonchalant. “Anyway, you’ll be fine, Hal. He doesn’t actually kill people he likes.”
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?! Does he like me?!”
Damian narrowed his eyes at Hal, then growled, “Not anymore.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have called him cute,” Nightwing said, his tone more amused than sympathetic.
Hal looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “You’re taking his side?”
“Of course,” Nightwing said brightly. “That’s my baby brother.”
The room went silent.
“…Did you say he’s your brother?” Diana asked, her brows furrowing.
“Oh, yeah,” Dick replied brightly. “He’s the youngest of us. Well, until Bruce adopts another one, anyway. It’s like his hobby or something.”
“Us?” Superman repeated, looking between Dick, Damian, and the ominous figure of Batman still standing silently in the shadows.
“Oh, yeah. Me, Damian, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph…” Dick listed them off casually, as if naming ingredients for a recipe. “We’re all part of the Wayne family. Bruce is our dad.”
“WHAT?!” The collective shout was deafening.
Barry clutched his chest. “You’re telling me that all of you—those things we hear rumors about in Gotham—are family?!”
“Yup!” Dick chirped.
“But—you’re so nice! And normal! You’re the sunshine guy! How does that… what?!” Hal sputtered.
Dick laughed. “Thanks, but, uh, I grew up in Gotham too, you know. You just have to embrace the chaos. Right, B?”
Batman grunted.
“You’re not helping, Dad,” Dick teased, earning an even deeper grunt in response.
Clark ran a hand down his face, trying to process the information. “So you’re telling us that the terrifying, borderline-supernatural crime fighters who’ve been haunting Gotham’s streets are all your siblings? And Batman is your dad?”
“Exactly,” Dick said, his grin never wavering. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that Robin just tried to murder someone, and you’re acting like this is normal!” Diana exclaimed, her composure finally cracking.
“Oh, trust me, it is,” Dick assured her. “I mean, one time, Jason dropped a grenade into my cereal because I used his bike without asking. So, yeah. This is pretty standard.”
“I… I think I need to sit down,” Hal muttered, letting his feet touch the floor to collapse into a nearby chair. Superman subtly rolls his shoulders.
Damian, apparently satisfied that Hal was thoroughly cowed, sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, glaring at everyone like they were the problem.
Batman finally stepped out of the shadows, his cape billowing ominously. “If you’re all done panicking, we have a mission to discuss.”
“Wait, wait,” Barry said, holding up a hand. “How are we supposed to focus on a mission after all of this?!”
“You’re professionals. Figure it out,” Batman said coolly.
The League exchanged glances, unsure how to proceed.
Dick clapped his hands together, smiling brightly. “Come on, guys! Let’s get to work! Don’t let a little family drama distract you.”
“Little?” Hal croaked.
Ignoring him, Dick looped an arm around Damian’s shoulders and steered him toward the conference table. “Come on, Dami. Let’s play nice with the other heroes, okay?”
“Tt. Fine,” Damian muttered, though he shot Hal one last murderous glare for good measure.
The League watched them in stunned silence, collectively wondering how they’d missed the fact that Gotham’s chaos demons were all one big, terrifying family.
Clark sighed, rubbing his temples. “This explains so much.”
“Does it?” Barry asked weakly.
“No,” Clark admitted.
And with that, they all sat down to plan their mission, the weight of their new knowledge hanging over them like a dark, bat-shaped cloud.