Y/N's Pov

I stepped through the doors of our hideout, my boots echoing against the cracked concrete floor. The rest of the team flooded in behind me, their voices ringing with triumph. Blackfire's laughter pierced the air first, sharp and electric, like the aftermath of a thunderclap. She floated over the couch and sprawled across it as if she owned the place—which, given her personality, she practically did.

"Oh, the look on her face!" she cackled, tossing her hair back. "Little miss-perfect, Starfire, falling out of the sky like a broken comet. I wish I'd taken a picture—no, a video!" She waved her hands dramatically as if mocking her sister's frantic outbursts earlier. "'How dare you mention Robin's name!' Blah, blah, blah—please!"

She spun to face me as I peeled off my mask, letting the cool air hit my face. Her smirk widened.

"And you—" she pointed, grinning—"you were perfect. The way you shut down Beetle? Humiliating him in front of the whole city? That was art, Red X."

Her tone lingered on my codename, teasing yet admiring, like a cat playing with its food. "I don't know what it is," she continued, tracing the rim of her glass of stolen wine, "but something about you is even more... attractive in this role. You wear chaos well."

I ignored her and moved toward the back to remove my armor piece by piece. My pulse was still racing—partly from the fight, but mostly from what I'd done. The X I carved into Jaime's cheek lingered in my head, no matter how hard I tried to push it down.

"Ugh." Rose groaned, dragging her sword along the floor before slumping against the kitchen counter. Grease and oil coated the blade—the remnants of Cyborg's mangled arm. She wiped it down with a rag. "I still can't believe he powered down before I could finish the job."

Blackfire perked up at that, her grin widening. "Next time," she purred, "let's not stop at dismemberment. Let's actually kill one of them."

The room went quiet for half a second—just long enough for my stomach to twist.

Terra was the first to speak. "Beast Boy should've been the first to go," she spat, her voice dripping venom. "He lied to me. Used me. And Raven—" Her fists clenched, shaking with lingering rage. "—They deserve worse."

Rose shrugged, nodding in agreement. "Maybe we should make an example out of someone. Send a message that we're not playing games."

Blackfire clapped her hands together. "Exactly! That's what I'm saying! Let's make them afraid of us."

Jinx, sitting quietly in the corner, finally broke her silence. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, her expression unreadable.

"Or," she said, her voice cutting through the excitement, "we could not start killing people like psychopaths."

The others turned toward her, their glares sharp. Blackfire especially seemed ready to argue.

"Excuse me?"

Jinx didn't flinch. "I'm just saying—what's the point? We've already won. They're scared, broken. Killing them is... messy. It brings the League into this. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not deal with Superman."

I stared at her, surprised—not just by her words but by how much they sounded like something I would've said... back when I was Robin.

"They wouldn't have shown you mercy," Terra shot back.

"Maybe not," Jinx admitted. "But that's the difference between them and us, isn't it? We're not just trying to hurt people. We're proving something. So, let's keep proving it... without crossing the line."

I didn't know whether to be annoyed or grateful. But the silence that followed told me everyone was thinking about it—including Blackfire, whose smirk faltered just for a moment before returning.

"Fine," she said, standing up and stretching her arms. "No killing... yet. But next time, we push harder."

She walked past me, trailing her fingers along my shoulder. "And next time," she added, her voice low, "you don't hold back either."

I didn't answer. I just stood there, staring at the faint stain of grease and oil Rose left behind, my head pounding with the weight of the mask I'd removed and the one I was still wearing

. . .

. . .

. . .

The rain outside drummed against the windows of the hideout like distant war drums. The flickering light from the television cast long, shifting shadows across the room as the broadcast continued. I leaned back into the couch, wedged between Jinx on my left and Blackfire on my right—opposites in every way, yet both equally dangerous in their own rights.

Jinx's fingers idly twirled strands of her hair, her legs pulled up onto the couch, while Blackfire sat confidently, one leg crossed over the other, arms spread across the back of the couch like a queen surveying her domain. I couldn't decide if she was more of a devil or a guardian angel in this moment. Maybe both.

Rose was in the kitchen, her back to the rest of us, but the steady thunk-thunk-thunk of her knife against the cutting board sounded more like she was trying to murder whatever vegetables were unlucky enough to be in her path. Terra sat on the polar bear rug, knees pulled to her chest, her face dark with brooding thoughts as the broadcast continued to rub salt into our earlier victory.

On-screen, the Hall of Justice loomed behind a panel of heroes—Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, and Green Lantern. I caught myself scanning the group again, my eyes lingering on the empty space where Aquaman and Batman should've been.

No Batman. Not a single shadow of him.

I wasn't sure if that calmed me or made the gnawing pit in my stomach worse. One year, and still not a word or appearance from the Dark Knight. Either he didn't care—or worse, he did.

Blackfire clicked her tongue and leaned back, her sharp eyes narrowing as Superman addressed the reporters, his calm yet commanding voice barely holding the room together.

"Why's Aquaman not there?" Blackfire scoffed. "What? Too busy playing with fish to bother with us 'lowly' villains? Pathetic." She leaned closer, her voice dripping with disdain. "You'd think they'd send more than just their mouthpieces after we humiliated their precious Titans."

Superman's words droned on, carefully constructed to sound hopeful, but even he seemed rattled. Wonder Woman, standing beside him, clenched her fists as though she was seconds away from punching through the podium.

The corner of my mouth twitched into a smirk. That anger wasn't just about us—it was personal. Steve Trevor. His death at our hands still haunted her, and no matter how hard she tried to stay in control, cracks were beginning to show.

But then Flash—always the loudmouth—leaned into his microphone.

"Let's be real here," he said, smirking. "The 'Lost Legion'? What are they supposed to be? A kid's version of the Legion of Doom? C'mon, this isn't even worth the League's time."

The room practically froze.

The knife chopping from the kitchen grew louder. Terra's fists clenched so hard the polar bear rug under her began to tremble. The walls seemed to shudder, the vibrations barely noticeable—but to me, it felt like the start of an earthquake.

"Easy." I leaned forward, placing a hand on Terra's shoulder. "We'll deal with him later."

Blackfire let out a low, predatory laugh. "Oh, we'll definitely deal with him later." Her eyes gleamed as though she was already imagining all the ways she could wipe that smirk off his face.

"Arrogant little prick," Rose spat from the kitchen. The knife slammed into the cutting board.

Green Lantern took the podium next, clearly trying to steer things back to a more professional tone, but even his words carried veiled insults. Words like reckless, untrained, and dangerous amateurs.

Jinx exhaled sharply beside me, shaking her head. "They're baiting us."

"No," I muttered, my jaw tightening. "They're underestimating us."

Blackfire's grin widened. "Let them. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And we'll be the ones to make them fall."

The broadcast cut off, leaving the room filled with tense silence, the rain hammering against the warehouse louder than before.

Rose stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and glaring at the darkened screen. "So what's the plan, fearless leader?" Her words were sharp, but the challenge in her voice was almost teasing.

I stood up, feeling every set of eyes in the room fixate on me. My gaze lingered on the empty screen, my reflection staring back at me—a maskless Red X surrounded by broken souls and ticking time bombs.

"We make them regret underestimating us," I said, my voice steady. "But not yet."

I turned to Jinx. "We can't give them what they're expecting. No sloppy moves, no lashing out."

I looked to Terra and Rose. "We keep applying pressure. Keep pushing them to the edge—until they break."

Finally, I turned to Blackfire, who looked at me like I'd just handed her the keys to the kingdom. "And when the time comes," I said, my voice dropping, "we'll make sure it's not just the Titans who fall. It'll be the League."

She grinned, leaning closer. "Now that's more like it."

But as the others cheered, as the storm raged outside, and as the weight of the plan sank in, a small voice in the back of my mind—one I'd been trying to drown out—began to whisper.

Was this really my plan... or was it hers?

Somewhere in the Wayne Manor. . .

Selena's Pov (Catwoman)

I balanced the tray carefully in my hands as I made my way up the long staircase of Wayne Manor. The rain outside tapped against the windows, filling the silence that seemed to suffocate this place. It had been like this for nearly a year now—quiet, empty, lifeless. Ever since that night.

I paused at the top of the stairs, glancing back toward the hallway where the entrance to the Batcave stood. The secret bookshelf was beginning to gather dust, untouched for months. Bruce hadn't stepped foot down there. Neither had Alfred.

Not that it made things better.

Bruce wasn't the only one mourning. I saw it in Alfred every day. Whenever he wasn't tending to chores, he'd retreat to the fireplace with a glass of whiskey, staring into the flames like he was searching for answers he'd never find.

And me?

I wasn't Catwoman anymore. I hadn't been for a long time. I was just... Selena. The woman who promised to stay by Bruce's side and take care of him.

But how do you take care of someone who refuses to let you in?

I pushed open the door to Bruce's bedroom, immediately greeted by the darkness. "Bruce?"

No answer.

I stepped inside and set the tray down on the nightstand. The air was heavy, and the faint scent of rain made my stomach twist. He was soaked.

I found him sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped and head bowed. He clutched something in his hands, and when I moved closer, I saw it—the R emblem from Robin's uniform.

My heart broke all over again.

"Bruce," I said softly, stepping closer. I reached out, brushing my fingers against the damp sleeve of his shirt. "You're wet. Did you go out again?"

He didn't move. Didn't even blink.

I let out a quiet sigh and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Kneeling in front of him, I began drying his hair. He didn't stop me, but he didn't lean into it either.

"You need to stop doing this," I whispered. "Searching for him. Looking for clues. Driving yourself mad."

I swallowed hard. "Y/N is gone."

The words hurt. I hated saying them, hated even thinking them. But someone had to. Someone had to say what Bruce refused to believe.

He finally looked at me then—just a glance, but it was enough. His eyes were hollow, empty in a way that made me feel sick.

And then, without a word, he leaned forward and collapsed into my arms.

I held him, one hand stroking his hair, the other resting against his back. He didn't cry, but the way he trembled told me enough.

"It's okay," I whispered. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

And then the phone rang.

Bruce immediately pulled away, and I cursed under my breath as he reached for the landline.

"Wayne," he answered, his voice hoarse but steady.

I stood up, crossing my arms as I tried to catch his eye. "Who is it?"

He didn't answer. His face had gone pale, and after a moment, he hung up and grabbed the remote.

"What's going on?" I demanded, but he just turned on the television.

I froze.

The screen showed live footage from Jump City. The streets were in ruins—smoke, fire, debris scattered everywhere.

"Teen Titans attacked."
"New villain group emerges—The Lost Legion."
"Titans defeated—Blue Beetle hospitalized."

I barely registered the words before the camera panned to the group responsible.

And there, at the center of it all, was him.

Red X.

"No," I whispered, my stomach twisting.

Bruce didn't move. He just stared at the screen, his jaw tight and his fists clenched.

The footage cut to a still shot—a close-up of Red X holding Blue Beetle by the collar, carving an X into his cheek.

I covered my mouth, horror washing over me as I turned to Bruce. "Bruce, it can't be—"

"It's him," Bruce said, his voice sharp and sure.

"No," I snapped. "You don't know that—"

"It's him."

He turned to me then, and I saw it in his eyes—conviction.

Before I could stop him, he grabbed his coat and pushed past me, heading straight for the door.

"Bruce!" I followed after him. "What are you doing?!"

"I need to go to the cave."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

The cave.

The Batcave.

It was waking up again

Back at the Lost Legion Hideout

Y/n's Pov.

Thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windows and dragging me out of the nightmare. My eyes shot open; my breath ragged as sweat clung to my skin. The sheets were tangled around me, half-drenched from how much I'd been thrashing.

I sat up, blinking at the dim glow of the lamp as I turned it on, my hands still trembling. My knuckles were red again. Bruised. I didn't even remember hitting anything, but it wasn't the first time this had happened.

Grabbing. Clawing. Pulling.

Sheets? No. Not sheets. Someone.

I let out a sharp breath and pushed the thought away, throwing the covers aside and getting to my feet. The cold air hit me hard, but it wasn't enough to clear my head. I needed water. Something to drown out the fire still burning under my skin.

The walk to the kitchen felt longer than it should have. Shadows stretched across the walls, twisting and shifting with every flash of lightning outside. I grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap, drinking half of it before setting it down with a heavy thud.

That's when I heard it.

A faint clink of glass.

I spun around, my muscles tensing before I spotted her—Jinx. Sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her and a cup of cappuccino resting on the table beside her.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, her voice soft but sharp enough to cut through the quiet.

I exhaled through my nose, forcing my shoulders to relax. "No. I just..." I shook my head. "Forget it."

I turned back toward the sink, but her voice followed me. "You don't have to act tough with me, you know."

The words hit me harder than I wanted to admit, and before I could stop myself, I snapped.

"Don't psychoanalyze me, Jinx."

The silence that followed felt heavier than the storm outside. My grip tightened around the glass until I thought it might shatter, but then I heard her move.

"I'm sorry," I muttered before she could say anything. I set the glass down and turned, dragging myself over to the couch. She didn't look at me right away—just stared at her cup before finally meeting my eyes.

"I keep waking up like this," I admitted, leaning back into the cushions. "Cold sweat. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. And I don't even know why. I can barely remember the dream, but it's always the same. Always leaves me feeling like..."

"Like you lost something," she finished for me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Jinx let out a soft sigh and leaned back, her eyes studying me carefully. "At least you're alive."

That made me flinch. Her voice cracked just enough to make it clear that she wasn't just talking about me.

"When I found out what happened," she continued, "about you killing Tony Zucco and then—" Her voice broke, and she clamped her mouth shut. A tear slipped down her cheek before she wiped it away and forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you. For good."

I didn't know what to say to that.

Jinx cleared her throat, brushing away the moment like it had never happened. "You need to sleep," she said. "And before you ask—no, pacing around and punching things until you pass out doesn't count."

I snorted. "Got any better ideas?"

She grinned. "Actually, yeah."

Leaning back, she stretched out her arms, motioning for me to lay down. "You're gonna think it's stupid but hear me out. People sleep better when they feel safe—warmth, soft words, something to remind them of their mother. It's instinct. Like muscle memory."

I blinked at her. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

Lightning flashed, and her eyes glinted with mischief, but I could see the sincerity underneath it. She raised her hand, her fingertips sparking with faint pink light.

"Don't make me force you."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the faint smirk tugging at my lips. "This is ridiculous."

"Only if it doesn't work."

I hesitated for another moment before muttering a curse under my breath and leaning forward. Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me in as my head rested against her chest. I felt her fingers slide through my hair, slow and steady, while her other hand traced small circles against my back.

I wanted to tell her how stupid this was.

I wanted to pull away and make a snide remark about how villains don't cuddle.

But instead, I closed my eyes and let myself breathe.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the nightmares didn't feel so close...

Jinx's POV

The only sounds filling the room were the faint hum of the TV in the background and the steady rhythm of Y/N's breathing. I kept my touch gentle—slow strokes through his hair, light patterns drawn down his back. It wasn't the kind of thing you'd expect to do with someone like him, not after the carnage we'd left behind earlier, but here we were.

His breathing was finally starting to slow, his muscles relaxing bit by bit, and I almost didn't want to say anything. Almost.

"Y'know," I began softly, my fingers brushing over the strands of his hair. "You were good today. Stronger, sharper—like this is what you were meant for."

No response, but I felt the smallest shift in his body. He was listening.

"But..." I let the word hang, waiting just long enough for him to stir. His head lifted slightly, and before he could even form the question, I cut him off.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Y/N." My voice dropped, losing the softness I'd been using just seconds ago. "I'm not saying you should stop pushing forward—I'm saying we don't need to jump straight to the big fish."

I felt him tense again, and I already knew what was coming. That sharp, defensive edge, the one he always threw up whenever someone questioned him. But I wasn't done yet.

"Wonder Woman is not someone you want as your personal nemesis—not yet, anyway. You know she'll kill you the second she finds you, and you're already giving her every reason to look "At least you didn't start with someone like Superman or else you'd be dead, again."

His mouth opened, but before he could get a word out, I cupped his face in my hands. His eyes flickered up to meet mine, and I couldn't help the small giggle that slipped out. "Shh. Let me finish."

His brow furrowed, but he stayed quiet, letting me have my moment.

"I'm not saying you need to go soft or hold back," I said firmly. "You're already proving how strong you are. But there's more to this than just using dirt cheap tricks like psychological damage" I sighed sounding hypocritical seeing as I used them against Raven earlier.

 "You don't have to beat them down to prove you're stronger—you can show them. Use your power, your wits, your talents. Be the one they can't predict, can't outthink."

I watched his eyes soften as I leaned closer, my thumbs brushing against his cheeks.

"And the best part? You don't have to do this alone anymore. Not ever."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, as if all of that had been sitting heavy in my chest for too long. Maybe it had. But it felt lighter now.

"I'm glad you're finally listening to me." A smirk tugged at my lips. "And I'll follow you wherever this new path takes us... but only if you listen to your team, too."

Silence.

I waited for him to say something, anything—but when I glanced down, his eyes were already closed. His breathing had steadied again, slow and even.

I smiled, brushing my fingers through his hair one last time. "Goodnight, Y/N," I whispered, leaning back against the couch and letting my own eyes close.

But just as I started to drift off, a voice hissed from the shadows.

"Tsk... still soft."

My eyes snapped open, my heart slamming against my ribs as my gaze darted toward the darkened corner of the room. Nothing. Just shadows and the faint flicker of the TV screen.

I swallowed hard, my arms instinctively tightening around Y/N as I listened for anything—any movement, any sound.

Nothing.

But the words lingered...

To be continued. . .

(A/N: Jinx the villanous guardian angel trying to set Y/N on the correct way to villainy..how long can she keep him in line with the lecherous Black Fire already planning her next move? Find out next time...but keep in mind there will be a very important choice given to you my dear readers, Happy New Year and apologies for just uploading now)