Y/N's Pov.

The game room was exactly how I remembered it—walls lined with arcade cabinets, top-of-the-line gaming consoles, and computers that Bruce had somehow managed to secure exclusively for my tenth birthday. It was a gamer's paradise, and for years, it had been one of the few places I felt truly free, where I could get lost in the neon lights and rhythmic sounds of the machines, forgetting for a while what it meant to be the "Boy Wonder."

Right now, though, it felt more like a battleground. I was sweating bullets as I tried to keep up with Alfred on Dance Dance Revolution. Yes, Alfred. The unflappable butler was absolutely demolishing me, stepping to the beat with effortless precision while he calmly folded laundry. He didn't miss a step—not a single one.

Meanwhile, I was flailing. I was doing my best to match his footwork, but every time I felt like I was gaining ground, he'd throw in some impossible combo, staying perfectly on rhythm without even breaking a sweat.

"Impressive, Master Y/N," Alfred said over his shoulder, as if he hadn't just pulled off a move that looked straight out of a dance tournament. "I thought all that time with the Titans would've given you better reflexes."

"Hey," I huffed, struggling to catch my breath as I stumbled on a step. "Titans training doesn't cover Dance Dance Revolution."

"An unfortunate oversight, I suppose," he mused, his mouth curling up in a rare, amused smile.

Just when I thought I had him—one wrong move, one misplaced step—he turned up the intensity, folding another shirt as he seamlessly hit the next combo, his feet tapping out a rhythm I could barely keep up with.

The song ended, and he, of course, had a perfect score. I, on the other hand, had managed maybe... half?

Alfred turned to me, holding out a towel, his expression softer than usual. "Perhaps some more practice in this room would be helpful, Master Y/N. I imagine it provides quite the distraction from... other matters."

. . .

I closed the bathroom door behind me, still drying my hair as I made my way to my bedroom desk. The fresh scent of soap and shampoo filled the air, clinging to the remnants of steam that drifted out with me. Dropping into my chair, I clicked on the screen, opening up a video call with Starfire. There she was, sitting at her own vanity, brushing her long, fiery hair with a kind of grace only she could pull off. She was always gentle, always there with a soft smile or a supportive word, and tonight was no different.

I combed my wet hair while she smoothed through her own, her brush moving in steady, calming strokes.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" she asked, her tone filled with that genuine warmth that felt like a balm to all my recent bruises—physical and otherwise. Starfire had been the one person on the team outside of Alfred and Bruce who had really listened, understood. The only one who didn't look at me and see my mistakes first.

"I'm... getting there," I replied, forcing a light smile. "It's still strange, but it's nice to have a little break from everything. I'll be back when I'm needed." I paused, thinking. "And, uh, tell the team that WayneTech's sending out free generators while the power plant's down. Should help until the city's back on the grid."

Starfire's face brightened. "That is most generous, Y/N!" She leaned a little closer to the camera, lowering her voice. "Everyone misses you. Even Cyborg, though he is still angry. He may not show it, but he worries." She hesitated before continuing, her gaze soft. "How long will you be away?"

I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. "Not sure. Depends on a few things. But you'll let Cyborg know about the generators?"

She nodded, looking a bit shy, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Yes, I'll tell him. Speaking to the entire team makes me a little nervous sometimes, but I will find the words."

As she applied her makeup, I leaned back, wondering if maybe this was the perfect chance to ask her to come to Gotham. Tomorrow. Just for one day, maybe grab lunch or dinner. I mean, romance wasn't exactly in line with the whole hero gig, but we'd figured out harder stuff before. It could work, right?

Just as I was about to say something, though, I heard a voice on her end of the call.

"What was that?" I asked, leaning in. "And... why the extra makeup and that new dress?"

Starfire's cheeks flushed, a happy, almost bashful look on her face. "Oh! That is just Speedy. I am preparing for my first Earth date with him tonight!"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I swallowed, forcing down every sign of disappointment. I plastered on a smile, nodding like it didn't mean a thing.

"Oh. Well, that's... that's great, Star. Really," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Have fun, okay? And be careful. Speedy's... well, he's got some rough edges."

Starfire smiled at me, all innocent and bright. "I will thank you" she said before adjusting her lipsticks and looking into my eyes.

"And Y/N? You'll always be my friend just like I will always be yours. Goodnight"

The call ended, and I was left in the silence of my room, staring at the black screen, the words sinking in.

"Yeah... just a friend," I muttered, slumping back into my chair. Not good enough to be a leader, not good enough to ask her out, and I got beaten to it by Speedy, of all people. He was just like me, only the world didn't look at him like a failure.

I punched the monitor hard, feeling the sting in my knuckles. Without hesitation, I activated a panel on the wall, and two reinforced sandbags and three steel Wing Chun dummies rose from the floor.

Grabbing my staff, I unleashed on the sandbags, swinging with everything I had until I broke through the thick, durable layer. I dropped the staff and turned to the dummies, fists flying against the metal posts, ignoring the pain as my knuckles split and bled. One by one, I bent the metal until, with a final shout, the last dummy crumpled, and I fell to my knees.

Pulling out a worn photo of my family, I stared at my parents' faces, wondering how different things would be if they were still here. Just an ordinary kid, happy in the circus—no mask, no Titans, no proving myself to anyone.

But that wasn't my life. Wiping my face, I put the photo back and looked out my window toward Gotham, sirens echoing in the distance. This wasn't the time to break down. I headed to the Batcave, knowing Batman was still in Metropolis, so there was no harm in me keeping an eye on the city. Pulling up the surveillance on the Batcomputer, I scanned through the feeds, looking for anything to take my mind off the pain and those relentless words: Not good enough.

I leaned in, eyes glued to the Batcomputer screen as activity at the old abandoned sawmill played out in grainy black-and-white. A convoy of trucks rolled in and out, and armed men shuffled bags and crates through the loading docks. These weren't just your average Gotham goons, either. I knew that face paint, the stupid grins, the chaotic outfits—these were Joker's men. My stomach twisted as Harley Quinn sauntered into view, the audio crackling to life as I tapped a button.

"Careful with the 'produce,' boys," she chirped. "Or Mr. J's gonna have some new paint on the walls!"

I clenched my fists. Joker and Harley were active, right here in Gotham, and Batman was nowhere nearby. Usually, I'd call for backup. But right now, every part of me screamed that I needed to do this alone. Maybe it was my pride talking—maybe it was a bruised ego from the Justice League grilling me earlier. Either way, it was up to me to prove I could handle this without falling apart, without second-guessing myself at every step.

With a sharp inhale, I turned to the display case where my suits were lined up next to Batman's. A few Batsuits sat on one side, each designed for different situations: heavy armor for serious combat, deep-sea gear, and even a ridiculous space suit. But my gaze quickly moved past them, straight to my own suits.

On the far left was my very first suit: the original Robin costume, complete with embarrassing green short-shorts that made me look like I was ready for a gymnastics recital, not crime-fighting. I cringed at the memory of parading around Gotham in that thing. Next to it was my current suit, still scorched and torn from the power plant disaster. That was out.

Then, my eyes fell to the third option. It was sleek, brand new, with a black-and-red color scheme that practically whispered "stealth" and "serious." It looked almost too good, like Batman had designed it for me and kept it here for this exact moment. A message, maybe, to keep my head up and step up to the challenge.

I ran a hand over the fabric. "Guess it's you and me, suit," I muttered, grabbing it from the rack.

As I suited up, I felt the weight of my gear, my new gloves and reinforced boots, the familiar grip of my retractable staff as I slipped it into place. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the confidence settle in with each piece of the suit I put on. Finally, I pulled up the new mask, adjusting it to fit just right, and stared at my reflection in the polished side of the display case.

"Alright," I said to the face looking back at me. "This is it. No hesitations, no doubts. Just do the job."

Without another word, I turned and headed for the Batmobile's sleek bike attachment, my mind buzzing. Joker wouldn't know what hit him. And maybe, just maybe, this was the moment I'd finally prove I could stand on my own.

Timeskip. . .

I tightened my grip on the collar of the Joker thug pinned under me, his face bruised and bloodied from the interrogation so far. My knuckles were raw from the punches, but I couldn't let up. Not until I got the answer I needed.

"Where is he!? Where's Joker?" I demanded, pressing down harder.

The goon just grinned, even laughed, blood smeared across his teeth. "Oh, he's real close, kiddo. Closer than you think." His voice was mocking, taunting, like he knew something I didn't. One last punch silenced him, and he slumped against the concrete, unconscious.

I took a breath, wiping my hands against the reinforced fabric of my gloves as I looked around. With the outer guards down, the way was clear to get inside the sawmill. The building loomed in front of me, dimly lit and casting long shadows across the empty lot. I moved to a side vent, prying it open and slipping inside. The metal was cool and musty, and I inched my way forward until I found another opening that led into the main area of the factory.

Peeking out, I quickly realized this place was far from abandoned. Voices echoed through the space, and heavy machinery hummed along with footsteps and low conversations. Joker hadn't just set up camp here; he'd brought along company, and not the kind I expected.

I eased myself out of the vent and dropped down silently, keeping to the shadows. From this distance, I could see figures moving around below—Joker's goons, yes, but something else too. I pulled out a couple of birdarangs, tossing them at strategic spots to act as extra surveillance in case things got messy. The tiny, silent devices would feed me a live visual while I moved around, mapping out the area and keeping an eye on everyone's location.

Satisfied, I used my grappling hook to launch myself up to the rafters, climbing until I was positioned near the ceiling beams with a clear view of the upper office. And there, right in my line of sight, were Joker and Harley. But my stomach twisted as I spotted three more figures around them.

Poison Ivy, Two-Face, and Scarecrow were in the mix, huddled around a table like it was some twisted villains' convention. I threw a birdarang at one of the steel posts of the office, activating the audio feed so I could listen in on their conversation from my spot in the shadows.

I adjusted my position slightly, leaning forward to catch every word they were saying. From the bits and pieces, I'd overheard before, this wasn't just another one of Joker's chaotic plans; it was something bigger, and everyone present looked dead serious—well, as serious as a bunch of homicidal maniacs could get.

Two-Face leaned over the table, flipping his infamous coin, the clink of metal-on-metal echoing in the quiet. "Project Saber," he began, his voice low and gruff, "is high stakes. If we pull this off, it's not just Gotham. We'll have power beyond this city, maybe even beyond any of our usual games."

Harley twirled her bat idly, rolling her eyes. "Oh please, Harv, cut the drama. 'Power beyond Gotham'... blah, blah, blah! Get to the point already!" She pouted, looking at Joker for support, and he gave her an approving grin, letting her know she had his ear.

Ivy crossed her arms, a hint of exasperation on her face. "Look, all I need to know is if this plan involves poisoning half the city with your noxious gas. I have certain... living assets to protect." She shot Joker a narrowed look, tapping her fingers as if barely containing her distaste.

Scarecrow smirked, adjusting his mask. "Don't worry, Ivy. This isn't about simple chaos. Project Saber... well, let's just say it'll inject a healthy dose of fear into the heart of every Gothamite—and leave them begging for mercy. This city is ripe for a good scare."

Joker laughed; the sound unhinged as ever. "Oh, come on, team! Don't be so grim! 'Project Saber' isn't about fear or poison or even wealth! It's about... possibility!" He spread his arms wide, pacing a bit with that trademark grin stretching across his face. "This is our chance to rewrite the rules! To prove that Gotham isn't just a playground for the Batman—it's ours. Think of it: the very essence of Gotham, reshaped, refocused, into something... wonderfully chaotic."

Two-Face flipped his coin again, eyeing Joker. "So, what exactly do you need from us, clown? This project of yours isn't happening without a lot of heavy lifting."

Joker spun back around, gesturing grandly. "Why, Harv, what I need from each of you is simple: chaos and cooperation!" He flashed a wild smile. "Harley's got the muscle, Ivy's got the green thumb, Scarecrow's got the fear factor, and you, Two-Face, you've got the connections." He leaned in close to Two-Face, whispering with a theatrical intensity. "We'll make Gotham see things our way, one twisted step at a time."

Harley clapped, a gleeful glint in her eyes, as Ivy gave an approving nod, clearly interested but cautious. They all seemed... united. Almost like they could pull it off.

Joker's laugh trailed off, his smile freezing as he slowly lifted his gaze—directly up, right to where I crouched, hidden in the shadows, with my goggles locked on him.

"Looks like our guest is well-informed!" he crooned, his voice echoing through the rafters.

"Fuck!" I yelled as I scrambled to make my escape, adrenaline coursing through my veins. There was no way I could take them all on one-on-one. I had to move fast. I swung toward the window, hoping to get a clean exit, but that's when the vines shot out from the walls—courtesy of Poison Ivy, no doubt. They wrapped around my arms and legs, pulling me back mid-air.

I gritted my teeth, trying to pull free as I crashed to the ground, landing on a stack of boxes. The impact knocked the wind out of me for a second, but I quickly recovered, kicking a couple of goons away as I made a break for it. But just as I turned to dart around a corner, I heard the distinct sound of bullets ricocheting off the walls.

"Shit!" I cursed, ducking for cover as Two-Face started unloading on me, the rapid-fire sound of his gun filling the air.

This was bad. No, worse than bad. I was cornered, and no matter how skilled I was, I couldn't hold my ground against all of them. I needed to buy time. I needed to get out.

I took a deep breath, my fingers brushing against the photo of my parents tucked in my pocket. It was a simple gesture, but it reminded me why I couldn't quit. I had to survive this.

With a determined grunt, I jumped out from behind cover, using my staff to deflect the barrage of bullets heading my way. My arms ached as I parried them, but I couldn't stop. I needed to act.

I threw an explosive birdarang straight at Two-Face, watching as he ducked to avoid the blast, falling into a pile of boxes. That was my chance.

"Go, go, go!" I muttered to myself, sprinting toward the exit while the goons scrambled to recover. But as soon as I reached the door, I felt a blur of motion. Harley Quinn—of course—appeared out of nowhere, her bat swinging toward me with deadly accuracy.

I dodged her first strike, but she was all over me. Twisting, flipping, and laughing that maniacal laugh of hers, she came at me again with all the grace of a gymnast, and I knew I had no time to think. I was dodging just to survive, but her flirtatious banter only made it worse.

"What's the matter, Birdie? Can't keep up?" she teased, spinning around me. Her bat whistled through the air, narrowly missing my head.

I gritted my teeth. As crazy as she was, she wasn't making this any easier.

Just when I thought I was done for, I grabbed her by the leg and threw her at the approaching goons, knocking them down like bowling pins. I wasn't going to play fair; I had to use every advantage I could.

The brief moment of relief was short-lived, though, because before I could even think of making my escape, I heard the sickening sound of vines growing rapidly, followed by Poison Ivy's cruel laughter.

I turned to face her, but she was already there, her green eyes gleaming with predatory delight.

"You should have stayed down, sweet boy," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She took slow steps toward me, her body a dangerous grace. "But now... now I get to make you mine."

Ivy was always a deadly woman, but when she spoke like that, it sent a chill down my spine. She leaned in close, too close, her lips just inches from mine, and I could feel the heat of her breath. "Let me show you how sweet it could be," she whispered, before attempting to kiss me, hoping to paralyze me with her toxic kiss.

Her lips brushed against mine, and I could feel the dangerous pull of her toxins starting to work their magic. But I wasn't about to let her turn me into another puppet. I faked a limp body, my arms heavy with the weight of her touch. Then, when she moved in further, I hit the activation button on my staff and jabbed it straight into her chest. Electric shocks coursed through her body, and the vines recoiled, letting me free from her grasp.

Ivy crumpled to the ground with a scream, but before I could think of escaping, the worst possible thing happened Scarecrow.

I didn't even see him approach. One second, I was watching Ivy drop, and the next, a sharp sting pierced my neck. I froze instantly, my body no longer obeying my commands. The toxin was fast, so fast. He was the most dangerous man in the room right next to Joker...fuck i should have paid attention!...

"You really thought you could handle this, didn't you?" Scarecrow's voice sounded like a distant echo, filled with grim amusement. He stepped into my vision, syringe in hand, the needle already buried deep in my neck. The world started to go hazy as my body betrayed me.

I tried to scream, tried to fight, but I was paralyzed, my limbs locked in place. I was helpless.

"Well, this is just too easy," Scarecrow whispered, smirking as he watched me struggle. "Fear works best when it's... irreversible."

I couldn't even move to punch him. My thoughts were jumbled as the toxin flooded my system, clouding my mind, turning my world into a blur.

Then, out of nowhere, Joker's laugh rang out, psychotic as always. "Well, well, look who we have here," he said, stepping into the scene, his wide grin gleaming like a shark's. "I always knew you had potential, Birdie. It's a shame you had to be so stubborn."

His voice was a mocking lullaby, like he was enjoying every second of my pain. He crouched beside me, looking me over like a toy he was about to break.

"Where's Batman?" he mused out loud, tapping his finger on his chin. "Oh, that's right—he's too busy. Doesn't matter. You've made this much more fun, haven't you?"

I couldn't respond. My head was spinning, my vision dimming. Every muscle in my body screamed to fight, but all I could do was stare at the deranged faces of my enemies.

"Fuck Batman," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else.

Joker tilted his head, amused by my defiance, but then he sighed dramatically. "Well, if you insist. But you're no fun anymore," he said, almost disappointed.

He raised a crowbar above his head, and before I could even try to prepare for the blow, it came down hard, and the world went black. The only thing left before I passed out was his stupid...fucking...laugh...

https://youtu.be/wcinzmfZeCc