I'd like to thank you all so much for your votes and support! This Watty's was even better than last year! This book's sequel won the Dick Grayson category! Here are my awards below:

DICK GRAYSON/NIGHTWING
1ST PLACE: Arranged Marriage (Proximity)

JASON TODD/RED HOOD
1ST PLACE: DA Meadow: The Hellbent and the Broken
3RD PLACE: The Right Girl For Jason Todd

TIM DRAKE/RED ROBIN
1ST PLACE: In A Game of Madness
3RD PLACE: Yandere

DAMIAN WAYNE/ROBIN
1ST PLACE: Love Like Demons
2ND PLACE: The Young Love EP

JAIME REYES/BLUE BEETLES
1ST PLACE: Alloy Has No Pulse

ZATANNA ZATARA
1ST PLACE: Gateway

YOUNG JUSTICE:
1ST PLACE: The Light of the Midnight: We Are Celestial

VILLAINS
2ND PLACE: Killer Beauty (Deathstroke)

FAVOURITE COVER:
1ST PLACE: DA Meadow: The Hellbent and the Broken
2ND PLACE: Love Like Demons
3RD PLACE: Light of the Midnight: We Are Celestial

FAVOURITE TITLE:
1ST PLACE: Love Like Demons
2ND PLACE: In A Game of Madness
3RD PLACE: Alloy Has No Pulse

FAVOURITE WRITER:
1ST PLACE: Kaido Kurahana

FAVOURITE COUPLE:
1ST PLACE: Venus Meadow x Jason Todd - DA Meadow: The Hellbent and the Broken
2ND PLACE: Cleo Perich x Dick Grayson - Arranged Marriage - Proximity
3RD PLACE: Adelaide Jackson x Tim Drake - In A Game of Madness

FAVOURITE VILLAIN:
1ST PLACE: Klarion - Light of the Midnight: We Are Celestial
2ND PLACE: Klarion - Gateway
3RD PLACE: Ra's Al Ghul - DA Meadow: The Hellbent and the Broken

FAVOURITE OC:
1ST PLACE: Venus Meadow - DA Meadow: The Hellbent and the Broken
2ND PLACE: Cleo Perich - Arranged Marriage - Proximity
3RD PLACE: Klavdiya Iskra - Love Like Demons'

Thank you so much <3

◊

◊

"Okay, listen up. For the past few months, money has come out of Perich Inc and moved into an untraceable account called Zelrich, before being collected by the Relaysian Rebels. All of Perich Inc's projects have accounts and companies. They are being swallowed bit by bit; the main culprit is Alan Perich since it is his company, or Cleo Perich, since the transactions begun when she returned and she also spent time here in Relaysia. Most importantly, through their tech company and communication with the military, or possibly through Cleo's Marine time, American military secrets were obtained and are also believed to be in the Zelrich file. We need to keep those secrets safe. I have searched for the Zelrich file for months, but I am unable to find it within Perich Inc's records. So that's why we need to intercept the latest transaction which will be received by this base. Are we clear?"

"Clear." 

Oracle nods firmly and opens the hologram blueprints before herself.

The group are scattered. Batman to the east, Red Robin to the west, Nightwing to the south and Black Bat to the north. In the fortified batplane just behind Black Bat's location Oracle sits watching over the operation.

"It looks abandoned," Red Robin notes.

"According to infrared, it is. There is no heat signatures throughout the entire establishment and below ground."

"Temperatures can be shielded. Equipment can be tampered with. Don't take everything at a glance," Batman tells them.

Oracle rolls her eyes, "We know." Bruce doesn't respond. "Still, there's no way my equipment has been tampered with. Maybe they're using tech to shield themselves. We won't know until we get inside. I've disabled the cameras in the east and south wing."

Hidden in the trees yards away from the Relaysian base, Batman and Nightwing make their move.

The establishment is a low-made concrete building with thick, window-less metal doors. It's huge, Dick would say a few times bigger than the manor. He wonders if she had ever been here, if she had killed here in the name of her country.

Since their time together he has been told very little about her time in the Marines. He understands that she was selected for a special Marine program upon arrival because of her athletic ability and compatibility with her team. He knows her second in command, Jack Lowry, was murdered by dogs in front of her restrained self. He knows she used to sing the first part of the alphabet to herself as a comfort from home.

Is that it?

So distracted by his inner turmoil, Nightwing fails to notice the red dots that light up on his chest in the night, for a just the moment it takes for him to enter the clearing between the base and Reyalsian jungle.

"Freeze!" 

On the other side of the building Batman is held up too, though much more calm when he notices the sigils of the soldiers who surround him. Red Robin and Black Bat fall under similar circumstances, as well as the concealed plane.

Nightwing stands with his arms raised, planning to slip the smoke bomb out from under his sleeve. How did they fall for what should be such an obvious trap?

His mind is racing through possibilities of who they are and what they want. He can't pin that sigil on each soldier's arm, until a woman dressed far smarter than any of his captors steps forward from the tree shadows.

"Hello, Mr Grayson," she says primly, "My name is Amanda Waller."

◊

◊ 

The principal pops out of the office door, breaking the glare between us and them. I push Damian forward and Merrybrook gives his son a rough shove.

"Her name?" I whisper.

"Mrs Palermo."

One of the simplest tactics of a power move is something everyone should adapt; loud shoes. The clickity clack of thousands of dollars on my feet draws the middle-aged, primly dressed woman's attention first. She looks far more put together than our tour guide and regards me with polite surprise when she turns our way instead of Merrybrooke's.

"Mr Wayne. I see you have brought your sister with you this time."

This time. I wonder if Bruce has come in the past? If he has condemned Damian to take whatever punishment the school hands him to get it over and done with? 

"Cleo Grayson," I shake her hand, "Mr Wayne apologises for not being able to make it. However, I am an ample replacement. Damian is my brother, after all." Fake, a lie, but this woman isn't going to take to flattery by the look of her. So we'll go for the familial approach instead of the 'I could not resist the opportunity to come and see this beautiful school' thing. "His well-being is very important to me, so I am interested to know why he is in trouble when he is the victim. Shall we?"

Dominance assured, I point at her office. The immediate jab takes her aback. She glances between Damian and I for a moment, as if measuring us up, before stepping inside.

"Please. You may sit to the right."

I push Damian in first and he throws me an indignant look that Mrs Palermo can't see. He only gives his signature '-tt-' before the two of us settle in the two curved leather chairs to the right of her desk.

"Mr Merrybrook. Thank you for joining us," we hear from outside.

"No problem at all Jenny. I had to come off the green, but my sons' are my top priority," that loser's faux-jovial voice has already started with the wrong approach. Damian digs his fingers into the chair arms. I have a feeling it's not only anger, but anxiety as well.

"It's Mrs Palermo, please. You will sit to the left with your sons."

Typical principal tone already obtained. What kind of idiot goes into a disciplinary meeting using first names and talking about golf? This is going to be cake.

"Don't speak," I whisper to Damian. When Merrybrook enters, his crabby attitude after I called him out some weeks ago seems to have disappeared, even though it spread through the aristocratic community like wildfire.

"Miss Perich, Mr Wayne, I'm glad to see you again," he smiles brightly when he enters.

"Mr Merrybrook, you're really having trouble with names today. It's Mrs Grayson. Damian and I are glad to see you too. I'm sure this meeting will be as pleasant as our last. For you."

His smile falters as his sons shuffle in behind him, big, dumb and slow moving. He clearly wants to bite back, words stuck behind his teeth, but he simply can't. Not when Palermo takes a seat.

"Alright," she breathes out, straightening her blue blazer, "we're here today because of a fight that happened during lunch. According to accounts from other students Barnaby started the fight unprovoked but Damian escalated it. So, Barnaby, we'll start with you. What do you have to say about it?"

 Barnaby Merrybrook stares at Mrs Palermo through half-lidded eyes, mouth hanging open, looking as dopey as he did at the dinner table. He reminds me of Harry Potter's cousin.

"Well, Mrs Palermo, Barnaby-" Ian begins to speak for his son, but the principal doesn't allow it.

"If you don't mind Mr Merrybrook, I'd like to hear from Barnaby himself. He's a grown boy. He can speak for himself." Her eyes are sharp as she stares. I glance at Damian who regards the whole situation with disgust.

Ian taps the back of Barnaby's head.

"Go on son."

It's strange, because Barnaby's eyes drop low and the way his thick, fat arm turns towards him is a telling site.

"Damian has been dis...pecting my sister," he recites slowly.

"Damian has been disrespecting your sister? How so?" Mrs Palermo presses.

Anxious fingers dig into the couch, making the leather squeak. Damian wants to do the same thing as me- reach over and grab the kids arm to reveal a scripted response because he can't put his own sentence together, let alone summon the thought to fight Damian of his own free will.

"Mrs Palermo, perhaps it would be easier if Damian spoke first?" I suggest, "It may give young Mr Merrybrook a moment to figure out what his father has scrawled on his arm."

Palermo gives me a confused look, before her eyes dart back to brick boy. She rises from her seat, rounds her desk and reaches for the kid's thick arm.

Merrybrook starts to panic, opening his mouth and leaning forward to snatch his son's limb before the principal can. He starts babbling about how sometimes Barnaby needs help and should she lay her hands on his son, he'll sue.

She doesn't have to. Brick brain turns his arm in her direction on his own, obviously feeling the pressure of everyone's eyes on him. It reveals two simple sentences, smudged against his sweaty skin. Damian looks to the corner of his eye, not quite at me, but in my direction with just a hint of a smirk.

"Mr Merrybrook, I hope you can explain this!" Palermo snaps.

"Of course I can! Mr Wayne has been intimidating my son so much the boy is frightened to speak before him, so I decided to help Barnaby prepare!" Ian snaps as he desperately tries to pull down Barnaby's sleeves.

"That is an absolute lie! Damian is the innocent, prompted by an attack encouraged by Ian. Barnaby, show Mrs Palermo your other arm. Does it tell you to accuse Damian of harassing your sister?" I jump in, trying not to smile at how well this is going.

"Do not say my son's name!"

"Barnaby, hold your other arm out please."

Ian can't escalate the situation physically, so he decides to do it emotionally. He puts his arm around Barnaby's shoulder's- a tough feat thanks to the kid's size -and begins a low-key sob.

"Ashamed, Mr Merrybrook? Ashamed that you allowed your jealousy of my father-in-law's money and scorn over Damian's rejection of your marriage proposal to seep into your son's school life?" I question. Palermo ponders the new information as she inspects the writing on Barnaby's arm. This entire situation is bizarre in the best way.

"No, Mrs Grayson. I am ashamed because I let my boy face his fears alone. I should have been there for him- He just wanted to protect his sister. I thought maybe giving him a line would help..."

"Protect his sister?" I snap, rolling my eyes at the fake tears he summons in his own, "Please, no one is going to fall for that. Mrs Palermo, Damian was not even aware the girl went here."

The principal straightens up with an audible sigh. She tugs down her blazer, holds her nose in the air and returns to her seat. She straightens the things on her desk and appears to be arranging the facts in her mind.

"So," she begins, "Mrs Grayson. Your claim is that Damian was only acting in self-defence after Barnaby attacked Damian under his father's orders, with a line written by Mr Merrybrook. And Mr Merrybrook, your claim is that Barnaby only approached Damian because Damian has been harassing Melinda. Correct?"

I simply nod. Merrybrook begins to continue the sob story of how Melinda comes home upset everyday, but Palermo holds her hand up.

"Is the account correct, My Merrybrook?"

He nods with a sniffle, squeezing his son's shoulder, "And true."

Bullshit. 

"Whether either is true is irrelevant. The issue is not the cause, the issue is the consequence. Barnaby started a fight. It is against school rules, so there is the first truth. Damian fought back and caused injury, another truth. Clive joined in on the fight, another. Damian retaliated and in the process injured a teacher. I do not punish for hurt to inner-feelings, but for actions. I will have to suspend all three. Do you understand?"

Merrybrook sniffles again, nodding. Of course he is nodding; if the boys are only going to be punished for fighting it means his meddling will got without notice.

"I do not," I say immediately.

Palermo turns a sharp eye on me, "What is it you do not understand, Mrs Grayson? Damian escalated a fight and one of his actions caused harm to a teacher."

"Harm that would not have been the case, had Merrybrook felt his actions had consequences. Thanks to his tampering, trying to cause a fight between my brother and his sons, that teacher was hurt. He believed that under your leadership of the school he would be seen as innocent, even though his actions are a way for him to get back at my family for expelling him from the upper community. I do not want to bring his issues into discussion because they are long past. His relationship and its problems should remain private, but they did cause issue during a Wayne-Merrybrook dinner last month. Mr Merrybrook decided to exact revenge by accusing Damian of harassment. My brother has not once even seen Melinda Merrybrook here at the school- nor would he willingly look at her -and yet you are willing to allow him to be punished for defending himself against the lies of an adult? He's just a boy!"

I grab Damian's hand at the end of that little speech, not for show or comfort, but because I can feel him ready to reprimand me for calling him a boy.

"To say that the cause is not the problem is completely insane. The cause is always the problem, because it is the root of the action. Where exactly did you get your degree? Have you completed the multiple anti-bullying workshops at hand? I believe it should be standard practice. It is in Sunset. Who knew such a fresh, young city school could outdo this fine establishment in something as trivial as bullying?"

The tension in the room is so thick you can smell it among Barnaby's BO and my own invading Calvin Klein perfume. 

"How dare you disrespect Mrs Palermo like that! Do you have any man-"

"Oh please," I interrupt Ian's fake outburst, "What do you know about respect? In fact, what do you know about any of this? Clearly fighting against children is more your level. Using them for your own revenge, even more. Now, Mrs Palermo, when you are quite done playing the victim, would you like to call Child Protective Services or shall I?"