bossymarmalade: the little man from another place  (between the lodges)
miss maggie ([personal profile] bossymarmalade) wrote in [community profile] thejusticelounge2012-09-16 09:35 am

manor mayhem

Dick had slept well the first night back, protectively cuddling Damian like a mother bear with her cub, but since the party, he’d felt tired, more tired than he’d ever felt with Guy in Europe. He wrote it off as jet-lag—Lantern-lag?—and stress. The coming home to Damian and Billy, taking care of them; the talk with Wally; the attack on Ollie and Kate; the knowledge that his lover was practically turning into some kind of monster; the struggle to calm Lian in her ever-growing panic; and the now near-painful lack of sleep were all just wearing him down.

“You got soft in Europe, Grayson,” chimed a little Damian-voice.

He was right. How else could they have attacked him so easily? He’d softened, weakened, too used to relying on someone else to protect him. Guy was always there….

“But the Lantern wasn’t there when they attacked,” it said again. ”You were all alone.”

Alone….

Dick shook his head, smacking himself to wake up. Maybe he should make some coffee. Check on Lian. No, Lian was finally asleep; he should let her rest. Damian. Billy. He should check on them. Maybe after he made some coffee.

Damian knows he’s alone as soon as he opens his eyes. Grayson has already risen, and Damian is quick to toss aside the blankets and nearly spring from the bed in his haste to vacate the room. Over the past day, being the sole occupant in any room has filled him with a disconcerting anxiety. It’s unlike him, but he reasons his paranoia is temporary and will fade along with the stomach flu that ails him. Illness can weaken the mind as well as the body.

He’s nearly reached the kitchen when a red mark on his hand catches his eye. He stops in the hallway and holds both hands aloft, turning them to examine the welts lining both palms and knuckles. These marks aren’t unfamiliar to him: Mother’s preferred method of correction for his mistakes was a birch rod applied across his hands, and his skin still bares faded scars from past atonement. But these wounds are fresh, raw, as if the stripes were laid down only hours ago.

Damian keeps turning his hands in wonderment. They don’t hurt at all, but the marks are so vivid. He doesn’t recall being caned in the past few days. He knows he didn’t sustain injuries of this sort from his encounter with Two-Face’s bat, and Grayson doesn’t have the heart to issue such brutal discipline. Where did they come from, and how can Damian possibly have no memory of receiving them?

He hurries into the kitchen, the warm scent of coffee in the air. “Grayson,” he begins shakily when he spots him at the counter, then hesitates. He hides his hands in his pockets and sits at the table. The welts should hurt from rubbing against the starch fabric of his shorts, but he feels nothing. “I require coffee this morning.”



Ever the early riser, Steph woke up in Guy and Kyle’s apartment in the bunk beds, all tucked in. She’d had one too many margaritas around the time Kyle’s birthday cake had been cut and was put to bed by Dick and Guy. They were such sweethearts. Looking around the apartment, it was totally quiet, so she assumed that everyone had already started their early mornings. Something didn’t really feel right, though. Her stomach was churning, and she felt a headache coming on. It didn’t feel like a hangover, either, she hadn’t drank enough for that. Not really giving it a second thought, Steph went up to the roof to use the zeta pad to zap her back home.

Now showered and all girly requirements met, she fed her kitten Frankie and took her motorcycle downtown, clad in skinnies and a Warrior’s t-shirt she’d bought a while back, to pick up two dozen glazed doughnuts for her boys in Gotham. She’d waited in line and the busy doughnut shop’s usual chattering made her head begin to pound. By the time she’d made it to the front and paid for her baked good, Steph would have sworn she’d heard a baby crying, though there were none to be found. She shrugged it off and took to the streets again, this time switching her motorcycle into its hover bike form.

An hour of flying later, and it was a quarter till 11AM in Gotham. She touched her bike down a ways away from the Manor so as not to draw attention and drove through the gates as per usual. “Morning, glories! I come bearing doughnuts! Come and get them while they’re hot!” Steph called out as she unlocked the front door. The Manor was quiet, too, and not in its usual Bat way. She entered the kitchen, though, and found a groggy Dick and Damian sipping coffee. She grinned at them. “Love the bed head, guys. Very hot.”

Her voice, though coming from the kitchen and too far away to be understood, was lyrical and light enough enough in its quality that Billy Batson recognized it even in his sleep, and the boy smiled under his still-closed eyes. There was likely few sounds he would be happier to wake to, and hers chased away the last dark vestiges of a disturbing dream he’d been experiencing.

Stephanie’s back, he soon realized, and his eyes snapped open. He threw back the covers and jumped out of bed like it was Christmas morning, and excitedly moved to his door to peek out; yes, she was definitely here. He slowed a little as he made his way to the bathroom, as his stomach reminded him he wasn’t entirely well. In an event of perfect poetic justice, he’d come down with the very ailment he’d lied about having in order to sneak out of the manor while pretending to be Damian, and, not to be outdone, Damian had it caught it too, but worse; they both had stomach flu.

Billy washed his face, ran a comb through his hair, and then froze for a moment as he thought he caught a glimpse of a mangled, burned face in the mirror, staring at him through the door. He spun, but there was nothing there. Just a flash, and it was gone. He’d heard about people seeing things after a frightening experience, and breathed deeply. He’d be fine, it wasn’t real…

He dressed quickly, or as quickly as he could. He really didn’t feel well, and the chills told him he was probably running a fever, but if he didn’t fuss perhaps he’d be able to visit with Steph longer and not be sent back to bed? ”Good morning,” he bid the three of them, trying to sound as chipper as possible, though he really felt anything but. ”Hi, Stephanie!” he added brightly, then not wanting them to feel left out he added as an afterthought, “Hi, Dick, hi, Damian.”
Dick half-heartedly rolled his eyes at Damian’s command, but poured him a cup anyway. ”It’ll stunt your growth,” he said, although there wasn’t more than a gentle chide to his voice. He needed the coffee more than he thought.

He smiled at Steph as she walked in, perking up slightly at the doughnuts. Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he last ate, too. He laughed softly and went for plates. ”Oh, you know us. Pinnacles of fashion.”

Dick smiled at Billy, handing out plates. ”Hi, Billy. Sleep well?” He glanced between Billy and Steph quickly, hiding a smile in his mug. Oh, that was too cute!

The kitchen fills with the other occupants of the Manor, and Damian scowls at them in turn. Brown is far too chipper for the earlier hours of the morning, and Billy seems too distracted to pay Damian much attention. Damian takes a sip of the coffee Grayson gives him, scrunches his nose at its bitterness, and reaches for one of the hot donuts instead.

Upon stretching his arm across the table, he realizes the marks on his hands have vanished, leaving only the pale white scars he received as a younger boy. He stares at his fingers as he places a cinnamon donut on his plate, bewildered.

A booming roar rising from somewhere below rattles him from his fixation. It’s familiar, a noise Damian has studied and learned well. It’s… a tyrannosaurus rex? That makes no sense. But the dinosaur growl echoes through the manor once more, and Damian leaps to his feet by the breakfast table. It was too loud for the others to have not heard it. “What’s that?” he demands, round eyes scanning their faces. If this was some sort of joke, Damian was not amused in the slightest.

“What’s what? The doughnuts?” Steph asked as she nibbled on a glazed doughnut, Damian suddenly tenser than usual. Walking over to the fridge to get some milk, she kisses Dick’s cheek and ruffles Billy’s hair, deciding to give Damian a little space. Her stomach was still in knots for some reason, but the milk helped. “God, what did you feed me last night, Dick?” she joked, sitting at the counter with them. “My tummy’s doing more backflips than a Flying Grayson in his prime.”

A low bussing sound rings in her ear and she looks over inside the doughnut box. The long johns weren’t there, but a power drill was. If Steph had blinked, she would have missed it as she looked back and the the doughnuts reappeared. She laughed a little nervously. “I think maybe I’m still a little buzzed from last night. Um, do you guys have any Tylenol, by any chance?”

Billy jumped skittishly when Damian leapt up from his seat, looking alarmed, but he calmed himself against when Steph ruffled his nicely-combed hair. That was okay, he could comb it back into place for her as many times as she wanted to muss it up, he didn’t mind. He declined a doughnut when offered, and tilted his head at Damian slightly as the boy sat down again, wondering what was wrong. Maybe he was going to be sick again?

Stephanie’s complaint about her stomach caught his attention before he could ask Dami what was wrong, and he sunk guiltily in his seat a few inches. Her stomach was upset. Perhaps it was the party, like she said. Oh, he hoped it was the party. He’d feel bad if she’s gotten the stomach flu from him! He drank his milk in silence, and looked at Dick as he answered her, anywhere but at Steph right now.

“How was the party, Dick?” he asked as the blonde located the Tylenol. ”Golly, I wish we’d been able to go. Did Green lantern Rayner have a good birthday?”
Dick smiled apologetically at Steph as she grabbed the Tylenol, but his focus was more on Damian. He’d never seen him so skittery before. He reached out and rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Oh, it was fun, Billy,” he said, smiling at him. ”Kyle was thrilled. I wish you two could’ve come. We should get everyone together like that more often. Be sure to wish him happy birthday next time you see him!”

He squeezed Damian’s shoulder again, pulling him closer. ”You OK, little D?”

The mighty tyrannosaurus rex unleashes another bellow, closer this time, and Damian grabs Grayson’s arm for support as the floor shudders beneath him. The windows rattle in their panes and the dishes clink together in the cabinets overhead.

Meanwhile, Batson, Brown, and Grayson all look perfectly unperturbed. “What’s wrong with you all?” Damian demands of the room at large. He seizes the largest butcher knife in the chopping block on the counter and holds it like a sword before him. “Don’t you hear him roaring? The T-Rex in the cave has come to life!”

Dick was in front of Damian in an instant, blocking him from anyone around him. ”There’s nothing roaring, Damian. Nothing’s there. Just put the knife down. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

He strained his ears, trying to hear something, anything that could be mistaken for…a dinosaur roar. All he heard was the cold silence of the empty house. It felt almost angry, the house, like it knew its real master wasn’t there and it begrudged those living in it in his stead. He chased away the thought. What did that even mean, the house was angry?

He reached for the knife slowly with his left hand, keeping his eyes locked with Damian’s as his right came around. If he did this right, he would disarm Damian before he’d really noticed. If not…. Well, he hoped Stephanie had a batarang on her, just in case.

Steph watched in muted shock as Damian grew agitated, clasping a kitchen knife, and kept talking about the Batcave’s T-Rex as if it were really about to attack them. Staring at his face, she noticed the same greenish-pale coloring as she had seen in her own reflection this morning. She looked over at Billy beside her, having shrunk in on himself for some reason, and saw the same thing, though with a red tint to his cheeks. Fever? But Dick seemed fine for some reason.

“Damian, it’s okay. Nothing is going to hurt you, I prom-” Steph cut off mid-sentence to gag harshly, though composed herself. She stood up just as Dick had disarmed the panicky Damian and moved to the sink to clear her glass and plate, trying to make things normal-ish again. Another wave of nausea hit and she vomited into the sink instead, her knees buckling and dish and glass smashing on the cold tile.

The first thing she became aware of as she righted herself and was able to swish her mouth out, was the sound of the power drill again. She shakily turned around and before Damian was no longer Dick, but Black Mask, like all those years ago, ready to inflict more torture. “Stay back! Dammit, stay away from them, too! They didn’t do anything to you!” she screeched defensively, picking up a larger glass shard from the floor and stepping towards him to defend Damian and Billy.

Dick didn’t know what was happening. First Damian’s hearing the T-Rex in the Cave and brandishing a knife, then Stephanie’s throwing up and yelling at him as though Dick was about to murder them all.

“You are the one with the knife,” a voice sneered in his head, and he honestly couldn’t tell who it was. It was deep and familiar, but not something he’d heard recently. Someone he couldn’t quite place.

He shoved the knife back in the chopping block and tossed the whole thing high into a cupboard. ”Stephanie. It’s OK. I’m not gonna hurt anyone. It’s OK. Just… put the glass down.”

As any good Robin does when a threat faces his Batman, Damian drops into a defensive stance when Brown makes her advance, ready to protect Grayson no matter her reason for attacking him. He glances overhead to gauge Grayson’s reaction, to see if perhaps he understands why—

Damian sputters and darts away from Mother standing behind him, her dark eyes cutting down to follow his movements. He knows instinctively she’s come to reclaim him, to drag him back into the darkness of the League of Assassins. He’ll become a killer again: merciless, unreachable, hopeless. And while a weak part of him still craves the approval he knows he’ll never receive from her, he values the bond he’s established with Father and Grayson much more.

Brown is right; Talia al Ghul must be killed. One last fatality, this final bout of matricide to stain his murderous hands, and then he can begin the lifelong process of washing the blood away in earnest. The knives have been moved from his reach, but Damian always has some kind of weapon hidden on his person. He stomps his sneaker once and a small dagger emits from the sole, Damian kicking the blade up into his hand to fling it at Mother’s thigh.

Dick dodged the knife just in time, the blade just catching his pants. Unfortunately, his dodge put him directly in line with a swipe from Steph. He hissed as the glass nicked his arm, and backed away from them.

“Damian! Steph! It’s me! It’s Dick!”

He continued backing away, eyes darting to Billy in the corner. Whatever was happening to Damian and Stephanie, he had to keep them away from Billy. If he drew them out of the kitchen and into the open hall, Billy could escape, hide away, do… something. All Dick had to do was keep their focus on him. He knocked a colander off the counter toward them.

“Dami! Steph! You want me? Come get me.”

He ran.

It had all happened so fast. one moment they were enjoying an almost happy morning together over doughnuts and milk and coffee, and the next, everyone was shouting and threatening each other with knives and other sharp objects. Staying out of their way, he rolled out of his chair and scrambled under the table to the corner of the kitchen. There, he opened his mouth to summon Captain Marvel; he would put a stop to this and protect everyone and everything would return to normal.

“Sha-“

A mangled, acid-burned hand clamped over his mouth. “Say it, and I’ll flip this coin. Good face, I’ll kill your friend, mini-Batman. Bad face, I’ll kill Batgirl.”

Billy froze, paralyzed with fear. From the corner of his eye he saw the arm belonging to the hand covering his mouth was coming right out of the wall. Two-Face was everywhere. He was going to get him. And if he summoned Captain Marvel, he’d kill Dami or Steph.

Two-Face’s voice laughed in his ear. “That’s right. What a bright boy you are.” Billy could hear the metallic sound of a thumbnail brush a coin, a brief high-pitched song as it flipped, and a slap as it was caught. The burned hand slid sickeningly off Billy lips, and a coin was slapped into it by a normal-looking hand, emerging from the wall on the opposite side of his head.

“Good head,” Two-Face sounded disappointed, “Kill you later. In that case, the next time you see my face, it’ll be your last. That’s when I’ll kill you, slowly, and finish what I started. Run along now…I’ll come for you later.”

Billy tore away from the wall. The others were gone. He was alone. He had to find someplace to hide, it was his only option left. He scrambled away from the kitchen, and fled up the stairs, to disappear in one of the bedrooms that was not his own.

Damian lashed out at Black Mask and missed, but Steph advanced and drew blood from his arm as he briefly entered her swing zone while dodging. All she heard when he opened his mouth was his low growl of a laugh that still rang in her ears sometimes from those awful three days he had her. She looked back at Billy and found him crawling underneath the dinner table. Good, she and Damian didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt. “Quit running, coward!”

Black Mask tried to escape down the hallway and she and Damian took off after him. Using an end table as a jumping off point, Steph threw a kick at his shoulder and missed as he ducked, but landed another slash in his arm, deeper this time. Her landing was rough, but she continued after the two as they entered the large study by the den.

It hardly registers to Damian when Billy flees the room, but he’s right to escape. Mother is ruthless, and she’d cut the boy down if it meant securing her revenge upon Grayson and Damian. The dagger misses, but Brown’s jagged glass rips blood from her arm. “Enemy to the house of al Ghul,” Talia hisses at Damian before dashing down the hallway. She adds over her shoulder, “And an unworthy enemy at that.”

Damian sprints after her, Brown at his side. It seems Mother hardly touches the floor as she floats along ahead of them, her hair rich and dark and impossibly long, just as Damian sees it in dreams where he hides his face in Mother’s mane and inhales her scent of bruised jasmine and almond oil. Her affection was fleeting and unpredictable, and he drank it down to the last drop whenever he was granted a sip.

There’s nothing resembling affection now as Damian rips an iron sconce from the wall, plaster still clinging to the hinges as he swings it at Mother’s skull. But Talia is swift, and she avoids his assault, withdrawing a birch rod from seemingly nowhere: her hand lifts, and there it is, an instrument the sight of which makes his knuckles throb with dull pain. “No, Mother,” Damian begs, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’s five-years-old again, so small, and she towers over him with the switch held aloft. It’s so big, he’s certain it will break his fingers. “Don’t, Mother. I swear to obey!”

In the distance, the tyrannosaurus rex roars once more. But Damian is more afraid of the monster looming before him, slender and beautiful and holding unbreakable power over a little boy who prizes nothing so highly as her love.

There was a moment where the white fat of his arm was exposed before the blood rushed in to fill the gash. Dick clamped his hand over the wound, fleeing the oncoming attacks.
Mother. Damian called him Mother.

Dick led them down the hall, grabbing a hidden eskrima from a stair rail for defense. ”It’s Dick. Dami! Steph! It’s Nightwing.” The two continued their attack, not seeming to hear him. He kept running, not realizing where he was running until he arrived.

The study.

He ran in, shutting the door behind him, but not locking it. They’d be in any second. He slipped behind the grandfather clock before it was hardly open. They would know where he went, but it might buy him some time. He pulled off his shirt and tied it around his wound, the best bandage he could manage for now.

All he could do was descend the stairs. And wait.

Black Mask, for whatever reason, scares Damian to the point of freezing for a moment. To the best of her knowledge, the two had never met before. Whizzing passed Damian in the moment it took to continue the chase, the door to the study was shut in their faces. No. He wouldn’t get to run off into the night again like last time.

It didn’t take but a minute of kicking (every door in the Manor was ridiculously thick and oak) before the two came in after him. The grandfather clock was slightly ajar. “Damian, he’s in the Batcave. We have to be careful,” she told him in a hushed tone as they crept down the stairs. Something made Damian freeze again. She saw the toes to a pair of men’s shoes peeking out from behind a pillar and Steph advanced cautiously, poised to strike, when she whirled around and kicked the real Black Mask in the chest from where he had tried to attack her from behind.

Steph didn’t waste any time in rushing forward as he was knocked off balance. All she could hear was his low, rumbling laughter. “Just like old times, eh, girlie?” Black Mask taunted. His cold, black skeleton face twisted into that disgusting grin of his as he continued to block. “This time I’ll finish the job. I wonder if I can get you to scream as loudly as last time? Still have that scar above your nipple?” His voice was just as smarmy as she remembered from her nightmares. That’s what put her over the edge and begin attacking wildly, feeling hot tears prick at her eyes.

“Three days! Three damn days you had me helpless!” she screeched, landing a shallow cut across his collar bone this time. ”No! Never again! I won’t let you lay another finger on me or anybody else! Fuck you straight to Hell, Roman!” By this point, for all her rage, Steph couldn’t bring herself to say his villain name aloud again. He lunged back at her and she hit his wrist, the whirring power drill clattering to a stop on the floor.

Dick was on full defense, just trying to keep her off of him long enough to get away. The wound on his arm burned as it stretched and the fresh cut on his collar came far too close for his liking. With a “sorry,” he shoved her back, catching her knees with his foot to knock her off her feet.

He fled deeper into the Cave and crouched behind the still dinosaur. He didn’t want to hurt either of them, but at least he had an idea of what they were suffering from. Damian saw his mother, Stephanie saw Black Mask. Hallucinations of their fears.

God dammit, Crane.

He’d heard Scarecrow was out, but lying low. He thought they would have told him if they’d faced someone that high-profile.

“You weren’t exactly talking to anyone. Shutting them out,” said that voice again. Dick shook his head.

Scarecrow probably had a new formula, which meant nothing in the Cave right now would cure it. Well, even if he didn’t have the cure, he might be able to get rid of the hallucinations. He just needed a way to get to the antidotes without getting attacked again.

He needed a tank.

“Kal-El,” he called, using the name he knew couldn’t be confused or misheard. ”I need you at the Cave. Now.”

Jack parked his car at the gate and walked his way to the manor. He thought to himself.

. o O (I hope Billy’s improved. Dent really did a number on him.)

. o O ( I STILL think we need to cream him.) Creeper answered.

. o O (We’re waiting until he comes to us. We’re not worrying our son.)

. o O (Yes dear.)

. o o (STOP THAT!)

He straightened his tie and cleared his throat as he knocked on the door. Ryder quickly left after work wanting to check up on Billy. His well being was on his mind throughout his news broadcast and most of his talk show airing. He was barley able to handle his daily barbs with Vera Sweet, the weather girl/newly appointed anchor/ former flame of Jack’s. “Hello? Dick? Steph? Is Billy ok?” He tilted his head as he didn’t hear anything at first.

It was dark. Quiet. Safe.

Billy had fled the kitchen, where there had been knives pulled and shouts and threats, and worst of all, him. Two-Face, his gravelly voice and that horribly burned, disfigured hand gripping him around his mouth…

The next time you see my face, it’ll be your last. That’s when I’ll kill you, slowly, and finish what I started.

He’d run. He had to run. He couldn’t fight, summoning Captain Marvel would mean Dami and Stephanie’s deaths. He ran away like a coward, like some scared little nothing of a coward who had to be coddled and petted and condescended to with promises of training to be something he could never be, never possibly live up to, not without Captain Marvel’s help.

He was nothing special, not like everyone else in the manor.

He was just Billy Batson. A coward. A frightened, useless coward.

It was quiet and dark and safe in this random room, on the upper floor, as far away from the kitchen as he could get before running out of corridor. He had slipped inside, locked the door behind him, and then scrambled away from it. The walls weren’t safe, which meant doors probably weren’t, either. Hugging his knees to his chest he rocked back and forth in the middle of the rug on the floor, watching the door.

Then he heard it: breathing.

He wasn’t alone in this room.

Billy shut his eyes, even though it was already dark, and wished the monster away, but the breathing continued. His heart caught in his throat, and he could feel Two-Face would find him, any moment. And then the breathing stopped, and his blood turned cold. The silence was almost worse. The bed next to him creaked, and Billy squeaked slightly when he jumped. This was it…

“Who’s there?” an angel asked. A sweet, high-pitched voice, from a girl who had seen too much to be afraid of anything like noises in the dark.

“L-lian?” he ventured, but he’d recognized her voice. “It’s Billy…” She was in the bed, that’s why it creaked! It had been her he’d heard breathing. He groped in the dark until found the bed, and jumped again when his hand brushed hers on the footboard.

Instantly, she grasped for his hand, “I’m scared. Don’t leave me, Billy. I feel sick…”

“Me too, but I won’t leave you,” he promised. “Here, let me have my hand back, I have an idea.” He pulled away from her gently, and moved slowly towards the wall furthest from the door. There had to be a window on this side, all the rooms had them, along with blackout curtains; considering who lived here, the curtains made sense, they probably all slept during the daytime so they could patrol at night. Billy’s hand brushed fabric, and he pulled it aside, letting the daylight stream in. When he turned, there was Lian, kneeling on the foot of the bed, her hand shielding her blinking eyes from the sun. “I had no idea you were in here. I thought you were Two-Face…”

“Who’s ‘Two-Face’?”

“Someone you never, ever want to meet, trust me.”

“What happened to your hand? And your eye!?” she gasped, seeing the bloodiness of the burst vessels in the white of one of his eyes.

“Um…Two-Face.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh…are you okay?”

“Yes…no…I mean, yes, I’m okay, my eye and fingers don’t hurt, but no, I’m not okay, Two-Face is after me, I’m hiding from him.” The moment he said it, he regretted it, as Lian pulled her stuffed panda tightly to her chest in fear.

“Are you sure he’s here? In this house?”

Billy could only nod, remembering the hand coming out from the wall, and that horrible, gravelly, voice…

The next time you see my face, it’ll be your last.

“Wait…” Billy said, thinking aloud, “Maybe I can hide from him! Gosh, if I can’t see his face…or maybe if he cant see me, either!”

“I don’t understand…” Lian shook her head, “Where can you hide?”

“In the dark!” he snapped his fingers. “Come on, Lian, let’s go. I’ve got to get you to where we can be safe from Two-Face and everyone else. The whole house has gone crazy! They were chasing each other with knives, and yelling, and we need to get to a safe place where no one will find us.” He took her hand, and coaxed her off the bed.

She let him lead her, trusting him to get her to safety. “Where are we going?” Lian asked as Billy unlocked the door and opened it a crack to peek through.

“The wine cellar.”

To ensure Zatanna’s safety, Clark cannot travel to the cave at top speed while he’s carrying her in his arms. But it’s still a swift flight, and he holds her neck secure against his chest to prevent whiplash and to keep her calm as she struggles with her insistence. She’d insisted on joining him to help the children, thinking that it might benefit her to focus on something other than her symptoms.

The front door of Wayne Manor is locked, but a twist of Clark’s strong hand snaps the metal doorknob with little effort on his part. He listens and identifies six distinct heartbeats in the house: Jack Ryder, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Billy Batson, and Lian Harper. And each of the five young hearts races with fear.

“Billy and Lian are in the wine cellar,” he informs Zatanna. “Go check on them. I’ll find Dick in the cave and see what’s going on.”

When he nears the grandfather clock that leads to the cave, Stephanie and Damian are en route as well. They’re both frantic, sweating and hair astray and looking prepared to fight. “Children,” Clark says, moving toward them with arms open. “What’s happened? Has someone invaded the manor?”
Black Mask knocked her down and the smile on his face made her blood run cold. He disappeared into the shadows of the cave, but she could still hear his smarmy voice, taunting her. “You were never a Robin. You weren’t good enough to keep any of your titles or ever gain the big Bat’s approval. Hell, you weren’t even good enough to keep Tim. You can’t cut it at anything you do, slut. You couldn’t even make it as a mother! But I’ll cut you … ” His voice trailed off and Steph couldn’t help her shaking, unsteady footing as she righted herself onto her feet. “C-come out, Roman! Face me like a man! I’m not afraid of you!” she called out, knowing it wasn’t true.

“Then maybe I’ll have better luck in that department.” A burst of light came from the top of the stairs and she recognized the mangled, hulking figure as Mr. Zsasz. Like Black Mask, he’d carved her up pretty badly once, she’d nearly killed him only because he had come oh so very close to slitting her throat. “You’re pathetic as ever, sweetheart. We have some unfinished business to attend to, though. I’ve had this spot for your tally picked out for years now.” Just as he had done so many years ago, Mr. Zsasz flipped his bottom eyelid as he reached the bottom of the stairs and this time, he actually cut into the skin there.

Her stomach lurched from the awful sight and Steph felt as though she could vomit again. She heard Black Mask yell something to Mr. Zsasz, and after a moment of confusion, he charged her. The bile in the back of her throat was forgotten as Steph blocked the psychopath’s blade, him having gotten much faster since the last time she’d seen him. Tears pricked in her eyes as he knocked her down and she cracked the back of her head into the cave floor. They both stood over her, Black Mask folding the drill gun again as Mr. Zsasz held her down. They were both laughing so loudly over the pounding in her ears and she thrashed violently against their arms, her heart raced dangerously fast as she cried out, terrified, “Help me! Please, God, no! Help me!”

It all makes sense when Grandfather appears in the doorway, his preternatural life force lending his movements even greater speed and strength than Damian recalls.

Of course Mother fled to the cave. She was fleeing in fear. She wasn’t abandoning Damian again, not like the first time she sent him off with his father and didn’t ask what he thought about it. He wanted to aspire to Father’s greatness, of course. He’d been told that’s what he wanted since he understood the concept of desire. But he’d spent the first night in Wayne Manor tucked in the seat of a bay window, looking up at the stars through the Gotham haze and wondering if Mother missed him at all.

He realizes now it’s all Grandfather’s fault. If only Ra’s would allow it, Mother and Father and Damian could live together as a proper family, the kind he’d read about in storybooks. Of course Mother fled to the cave. She’s frightened by this wicked creature, this demon sire who spawned a hellish legacy, and it’s up to Damian to defend her. He’s a dutiful son. He will stand at Brown’s side and fight to his last breath for the chance to win Mother’s love.

Brown is frightened by Grandfather, too. Terrified, in fact, her skin tinged yellow and her pupils blown wide. She calls him a name Damian doesn’t understand, but Grandfather has many names.

Then Talia emerges, and she and Grandfather both fall upon Brown, and they’re… they’re killing her. Damian realizes at once what a fool he is to think Mother somehow escaped the evil passed on by Ra’s al Ghul. And he knows he has no chance of overcoming that innate wickedness himself. It’s with this self-reflection he flings himself at Talia, arms and legs extended to latch around her and slit her throat with his dagger. Not a dutiful son after all, perhaps, but a ruthless solider when his partner is threatened.
Jack noticed the commotion. He had no clue in the slightest what was going on but seeing Superman helping Stephanie while Damian was making his way to him with a dagger made him quickly touch his shoulder and hold down.

Within five seconds, Creeper changed and leapt at Damian,pinning him down. There wasn’t going to be any Kryptonian Tracheotomy on the yellow skinned wacky man’s watch.

“Okay Damian, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye, but you’re Billy’s…friendish..ally person so I’m just gonna hold ya like this. So how about just takin’ a deep breathe and count to twenty. I can sing some Beach Boys if it’ll calm ya down.”

With that Creeper started to sing, fairly well for someone with a quite scratchy voice. “Everybody knooooows… a little place called Kokomo…”
Dick had breathed a sigh of relief when Clark appeared. He yelled out to Clark to hold Stephanie as he ran out to the med bay, sorting frantically through the vials until he found one to counteract hallucinations. He tore back to the mouth of the Cave where Clark was holding Stephanie down, gently speaking to her in an attempt to calm her. Clark held her arm steady as Dick injected the antidote.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw the flurry of movement between Damian and Creeper, but he was too focused on Stephanie’s quieting sobs as the antitoxin worked through her bloodstream. Once he was sure Stephanie was calming and Damian was secure in Creeper’s hold, Dick went back for another antidote.

“They must’ve encountered one of Scarecrow’s toxins,” he called back to Clark. ”They were hallucinating. I don’t know what strain it is, but this’ll stop the visions, at least. Hold him tight, Creeper.”

Dick gave Damian the antitoxin, cooing soothingly. ”Let’s get them back upstairs. They’ll calm down faster out of here.”

He wondered absently if he should go back for something to bandage his wounds, maybe grab some stitches or something, but god, he was so tired. It wasn’t too bad. It hadn’t hit the muscle or anything. He’d be just fine.

They’d be just fine.

As long as they stayed here, and didn’t move or make a sound, Two-Face wouldn’t be able to see them, and wouldn’t know they were there. He pulled Lian close, protectively, and rubbed her back, urging her not to cry or whimper, even though he was half-tempted to do the same.

In his mind he could see that horrible, mangled half-face, smiling at him. Holy moley, was that a hole in his cheek, with teeth visible through it, or a trick of the light? Silly, it was neither, this was in his head, his memory. Two-Face wasn’t here. He wouldn’t find them.

But what if he did? If he summoned Captain Marvel, Two-Face said he would kill Steph and Damian. But if Two-Face found them, then what? Billy knew he’d be killed, of course. Two-Face wanted to finish what he started, the coin had said so, and that’s why he set that fire…but they escaped the fire, and now Two-Face had to carry out his promise.

Except…

He’d never just let Lian go. Two-Face would take her, too, and hurt her, and kill her, just like he hurt Damian. Billy had failed Damian then, too, by not summoning Captain Marvel when he had the chance. He hadn’t done his job, as Captain Marvel, or as Robin, or even as a friend. He stoked Lian’s hair and rocked her gently to keep her calm in the pitch black centre of the floor of the Wayne wine cellar.

“I will protect you, Lian,” he vowed, his voice scarcely above a whisper. I won’t fail again.

She’d been feeling slightly at ease while in Clark’s arms on the way to the manor, but Zatanna was still nowhere near close to feeling like her normal self. As soon as Clark left her side to assist Dick, Zatanna was left to locate BIlly and Lian on her own in the cellar. Brushing back her hair, and hugging her arms closer to her, she ventured through Wayne Manor cautiously, trying to contain her breakdown from paralyzing her.

The walk to the cellar as she remembered it was now warped and stretched out into a lengthy monster. Her footsteps echoing out in a crooked crescendo, all the while she tentatively called out the children’s name. Her voice wavering with nerves as it had in her apartment before. As she closed in on the cellar Zatanna’s body seemed to scream out in protest to going any closer. It didn’t matter what she was going through now, at this point all that she needed to do was find those kids.

Finally reaching the door, Zatanna was plunged into the darkness of the cellar, “Billy? Lian? It’s Zatanna…where are you guys?” her voice echoed out shakily. “Everything’s ok…” Zee tried to promise, but she can’t even believe in her own words.

Billy’s heart leapt to his throat in near-terror as the cellar door opened, and a sharp shaft of light cut across the floor only a foot from his and Lian’s feet. It widened away from them, as the door opened, but it was only a matter of seconds now before they were discovered.

“Billyyyyy….Liaaaaaan….where are youuuu?”

He heard the villain’s raspy voice, a mocking, sing-song summoning, and at the risk of being heard he pulled Lian into the corner furthest away from the door, then stood in boldly between her and their monster. When he turned back he saw the back-lit figure in the doorway, and the glint of a coin being tossed into the air.

“Bad face. I finish killing you with the lights OFF…”

The boy reached his arms over his head. I’m so sorry, Steph, Damian…I have no other choice… At least they stood a fighting chance with Two-Face. Lian did not. And no one else was going to be hurt, not from Billy’s hesitation, not ever again.

“SHAZAM!!!”

He called forth the lightning and the thunder upon himself, and the deafening boom in the air surrounding them shattered several (thankfully) newer, thinner-glass bottles in their racks. Two-Face screamed as he fell back against the door, Billy thought, and then ‘Billy’ had no more thought, as his being was now augmented with immeasurable wisdom, courage, power, speed, stamina, and strength.

Captain Marvel frowned as he took in the scene around him, different from his now-doubled height, and complete absence of fear and disease. A familiar-looking woman bathed in the light coming from the door was staring up at him in a mix of fear and awe.

“Holy moley…Zatanna?” he asked, bewildered, as he reached forward to help her up. “Are you all right?” Once she was on her feet, he reached over and flicked on the light. He looked at her, and could tell there was no clever fibbing his way out of this one. He silently fumed in anger and confusion at his younger, powerless self; why had Billy summoned him, exposed his secret like this? Didn’t the youngster realize what this would mean, now, for them both?

He felt a pair of tiny hands on his knee, and looked down into large, dark, eyes. “B-Billy? Is…is that really you?” Captain Marvel blinked, then gave her a warm, tender smile, and reached down to gather the child up, dwarfed even further by his massive arms and chest. She looked into his face searchingly, and recognized in it the truths often only seen through the eyes of a child.

“Yes, Lian, it’s me,” he confessed, and little arms threw themselves around their saviour’s neck as his sad, serious, eyes met Zatanna’s, “I’m Billy.”

The antidote Dick administers to the children seems to momentarily calm whatever visions burdened them. It isn’t a perfect cure: Stephanie is still shaking, still glancing over her shoulder as if expecting an enemy to sneak upon her, and Damian clings to Dick’s arm, half-hidden behind his hip. But they aren’t attacking anyone now, at least.

“Bring three more vaccinations and come with me,” Clark tells Dick, instructing Creeper to watch after Damian and Stephanie. “I can hear Lian and Billy’s heartbeats, and it sounds like they’re hallucinating too. I don’t know what happened, but I think Zatanna might also—”

The floor beneath them rumbles as lightning strikes the manor overhead, and Damian and Stephanie cry out in their state of lingering fear. Clark can hear the nearest storm, and it’s currently 23.4 miles west of Gotham. It’s no natural thunder that rattles the foundations. “Stay here!” he orders the group, and he vanishes from the cave as far as the human eye can tell, arriving at the site of the strike less than a second later: the wine cellar.

“Zee! What happened?” Clark touches her arm and looks past her to Lian and… Captain Marvel. Billy Batson’s heartbeat is no longer audible in the Manor, and no one in the room seems to have been harmed by the lightning strike. “Where’s the boy?” Clark demands.

The shock of lightning and thunder rumbling to a roar directly in front of Zatanna pushes her back into the door with a sharp scream. She felt rattled and dazed as she was pulled to her feet quickly, a bright and familiar voice washing over her in a warble. Zee’s vision focused as she looked to Captain Marvel’s face, sending her heart lurching in budding terror and surprise as she tried to piece everything together.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her wide eyes studied the hero that had helped her to her feet. She hadn’t caused this, for once today that was certain to her. Despite her recent panics over her powers and the feelings of her magic pounding to get out, in the moments leading up to the lightning bolt and appearance of Captain Marvel she hadn’t once felt as though she was about to lose control.

Lian was soon up in Marvel’s arms, Clark was by her side, and everything was making sense. “He’s…he’s Billy.” Zatanna spoke flatly, reaching out a hand to Lian, “Billy is Captain Marvel, Clark.”

Creeper rushed over to the lightning hurridly.

. o O (Crap crap crap CRAP! Please don’t let that be what I think it is!)

He then saw the other heroes around Captain Marvel. The yellow man knew that his friends easily put two and two together. That his son was Captain Marvel the whole time. The best choice was for him to explain things…But that wasn’t going to happen He simply stretched a bit. “Well… I’ll be headed off.” He bowed as he turned and started to calmly head towards the exit.

“Billy is ten,” Clark says, voice terse after the events of the evening. But Zatanna doesn’t change her explanation, and Captain Marvel makes no effort to correct it. And now that the connection has been established, Clark can perhaps see traces of the boy he knows as Billy in the face of the hero who looks closer to his own age. It makes no sense right now, but Clark is an alien who derives an array of powers from Earth’s yellow sun. Some things defy logic, and he’s seen stranger than this in the League. “When everyone’s taken care of, you and I are going to have a talk,” he informs Captain Marvel gruffly, and he turns to stop Creeper with a hand on his shoulder.

“And since you’re Billy’s father, I think you’ll have a stake in our discussion too,” he adds pointedly. “But right now our priority is caring for the children and the others affected by the virus. Dick is in the cave with a temporary antidote that should help stave off some of the hallucinations.” Clark swings open the cellar door, a stern frown etched on his face as he holds it open for Zatanna to pass before him. He takes Lian from Marvel’s arms and walks ahead of him and Creeper, leading them to rejoin with the group in the cave.

Captain Marvel trailed along behind Superman, feeling lower than he had felt in all three months of his existence. After all, the man he aspired to emulate, and dreamed of working closely with, had just chastised him with the sternness he’d seen reserved for…well, bad people.

And the way Lian was taken from him, like…holy moley, did Superman think he wasn’t safe to carry Lian? He’d never hurt her or drop her!

But you did betray his trust, Billy, by telling a lie of omission about your true age. You knew this was unwise, yet chose to do it anyway for self-serving reasons. You wanted their respect, but you will find it much more difficult to regain their trust now that you have traded that away for a few months of acceptance from your peers.

He frowned at his own thoughts; it might as well have been King Solomon himself standing before Billy nattering “I told you so”, but it was no less accurate; Billy was in big trouble.

Not just you. Everyone who has helped you maintain this falsehood, particularly Jack, may be chastised for this as well. You know what you must do, what is right. You have the courage to face the consequences of your actions.

Of course he knew. He was ten and a quarter, he wasn’t stupid! All the way to the batcave, Cap said nothing, but he did give Creeper regretful looks; he just didn’t want to say anything right now, in Superman’s hearing (although everything was in Superman’s hearing). After all, Superman had said their priority was looking after those infected with the virus, and they would talk about everything else later.

Wait, virus? Hallucinations? It was starting to make sense now, why Billy had summoned him. Billy had been hallucinating Two-Face coming after him, of course! But now he was Captain Marvel, it wasn’t an issue anymore, since he was immune to all poisons and ailments. He realized that’s what must have happened with the others, as well, and why they seemed to go crazy. More hallucinations.

Golly, I hope they’re okay, he thought, as they finally arrived at the cave.

Dick had managed to get Damian and Stephanie to at least sit on the med tables; neither would lie down for long. Both of them were still jittery, eyes scanning the Cave for some imagined shadows. That worried him more than the crash of lightning, which was quite a feat. Lightning didn’t just hit Wayne Manor, especially not without a storm, and any storm would be noticed by the still-silent computer. He heard the footsteps of the others and turned to greet them at the entrance.

“Are Lian and Billy al—”

Behind Superman, trying to look much smaller than he was, was Captain Marvel.

Well, that explained the lightning.

Dick rushed forward to take Lian, whispering comfort to her. He carried her back to the med bay and gave her the antitoxin, cuddling her to keep her calm. When he was sure she would be fine, he set her next to Damian and looked back at the adults.

“So. Guess you found them.”

Captain Marvel’s chagrin is evident as they make the journey from the wine cellar to the cave, and part of Clark feels sympathetic for him. He’s not certain of the logistics, but if he is just a boy, just little Billy Batson under the form of a mighty superhero—

But therein lies the problem. The League does not extend full membership to ten-year-olds despite the many protests of Damian Wayne. Marvel has been trusted as an adult colleague with information and situations inappropriate to present to a child. The thought rekindles Clark’s indignation, and part of him acknowledges the petty grievance of not liking that he’d been fooled. Had Bruce known? Probably. Bruce always knew. He’d probably been mocking the rest of the League the entire time for their ignorance on the matter. Clark can envision the arrogance on his face when Batman realizes the rest of the League finally caught up to the knowledge he’d withheld from them (and he’d have reasons for aiding the ruse, of course, always some damn reason with Bruce).

His fists clench reflexively at the mental image of that sneer, and Clark forces himself to put aside his frustrated thoughts about Marvel and Batman as they reach the cave. The ailing members of their party must be the priority now, not Marvel’s deception or Clark’s antagonistic relationship with Batman.

“They were all in the wine cellar. The lightning had to do with Billy’s… transformation.” He gestures to Marvel and passes Lian to Dick, allowing him to tend to her while he turns his focus to Zatanna. “Do you still feel like you’re losing control of your powers?” he whispers, stroking her cheek. “Perhaps the antitoxin could help you, too.”

Creeper wanted to say something to comfort Marvel, but the revelation of his identity wasn’t the main focus at the moment. The big problem was the whole everyone freaking out and attacking one another thing. He tried to hide his gaze from Superman. This seemed like the time to be totally quiet and hope the awkwardness of everything would just pass.

Zatanna jumped slightly at Clark’s touch before leaning against his hand, wrapping a shaky hand of her own against his. As her hand rested against her’s, the worry and confusion she had felt toward the newly reveled Billy seemingly melted away only to leave the frayed and fragile edges of herself to rise once again. ”Yes, yes I do. It just won’t stop Clark.” Zee replied, her blue eyes still wide in fear of herself. She looked around the room in a maddening rush, her panic growing as she scanned about. There were too many people in here, all of which looked fairly calm minus Steph and Damian who looked about as worried as she felt. Did they know she was losing it too? “How can you fix it? There’s no way…” She mumbled her doubt to Clark desperately, her hand squeezing his hard.

Looking about the room once more she spotted Dick, holding Lian close as he injected something into her, “What’s wrong with Lian?” she asked quietly, horror hanging heavy in her tone, “Did something happen…she was fine just a moment ago-” Zatanna’s questions didn’t last long as she voices returned to plague her once more. Her hand left Clark’s as she pressed her palms to her ears, shaking her head hopelessly. Looking up to Clark, she struggled to fight past the echoing crowd of noise that clouded her from the rest of them, “Just get me somewhere safe- the Watchtower, anywhere Clark.”

Dick approached Clark and Zatanna gingerly, glancing between them. ”May I…?” He held up the syringe. Clark nodded and held Zatanna close, quietly cooing to her to help her stay calm as Dick injected the antitoxin.

“You should be fine in a moment,” he said, going back to check on the others. He turned back to Clark. ”Zee might be right. The Watchtower would be the best thing for them. They have more equipment and more room. It’d be no trouble to move them now.”

Nodding his gratitude as Dick administers the antitoxin, Clark cradles Zatanna’s head to his chest and strokes her hair, murmuring soft words of reassurance until the medicine makes her trembling form relax slightly under his hands. “I’m sure you’re right,” he agrees with the suggestion to relocate. “Hopefully, the med staff will be able to isolate what triggered the hallucinations and find a more comprehensive cure. We have League business to discuss, besides.” He glances at Marvel, who is quick to look down and avoid his gaze.

Dick programs the zeta tube with the Watchtower coordinates, Lian still clutching to his hip. He stoops before Stephanie and Damian where they cling together on the stretcher and speaks to them in gentle tones. They’re reluctant, but they both stand and follow Dick and Lian to the platform, trying to look brave but keeping a hard grip on each other’s hand and staying so close to Dick that they run into him when he stops to shift Lian to his other side. Clark smiles with wistful fondness as Dick herds his little flock to their places on the platform and they dissipate together in the zeta beam.

Clark and his traveling companions are quiet as he resets the console to teleport them to the Watchtower as well. He stands with Zee on the platform, promising he won’t leave her side until she’s completely whole again. Creeper and Captain Marvel are silent in comparison beside them. As the beam activates, Creeper steps closer to Marvel and puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, son,” he says evenly, voice devoid of its usual whimsical lilt. The four of them disappear from the platform to reemerge on the Watchtower, leaving Wayne Manor vacant once more.