Shadowflame

Deathstroke was not a man who tolerated loose ends. And right now, Talia al Ghul was the biggest, most annoying loose end imaginable—like a splinter buried so deep under your skin you couldn't even dig it out with a knife. He and Rose Wilson had scoured every corner of the underworld, every safe house, hideout, and secret lair they could think of. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. It was like Talia had just poof—vanished off the face of the earth. And if there was one thing Slade Wilson hated, it was people who disappeared without leaving a trace.

He stood on the rooftop of a crumbling building somewhere in the middle of nowhere, arms crossed over his chest. The city below him buzzed with life—ignorant, blissfully unaware of the kind of people hunting in the shadows. His daughter Rose, perched on the edge like the daredevil she was, gave him a sideways glance. "So, what now, Dad? We've hit every lead, and still no sign of her."

Deathstroke's jaw clenched under his mask. "She's not off the grid," he growled. "She's been hidden."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "The League of Assassins didn't hide her. They would've dragged her out kicking and screaming for betraying Ra's. Which leaves…" She trailed off, her expression shifting into a knowing smirk.

Deathstroke didn't need her to finish the thought. "The Justice League."

It made sense. Too much sense, actually. Talia betrays her father, and suddenly she vanishes without so much as a whisper? That kind of clean getaway reeked of League involvement—big, shiny Watchtower-level interference.

"So," Rose said, swinging her legs casually over the ledge, "we take it to the Watchtower? Crash a party or two?" She said it like she was suggesting pizza for dinner.

Slade shot her a look. "We don't crash the League's party unless we're sure. For now, we need a new plan."

He didn't say it out loud, but he knew what Rose was thinking: when it came to Talia, things were never simple. And if she was hiding under the League's protection, it meant two things:

One, getting to her wouldn't be easy.

And two, she was more dangerous than ever.

Rose grinned. "You know, Dad, if they're hiding her, they probably think they're keeping her safe from us."

Deathstroke let out a dry chuckle. "Then they've underestimated us."

His eye gleamed under his mask. He wasn't about to let a little thing like the Justice League get in the way of his plans. It was just a matter of time before he found Talia. And when he did? Well, let's just say the League of Assassins would be under new management.

Rose stretched her arms, looking far too excited for what lay ahead. "I love family reunions."

Slade smirked. "Let's not keep them waiting."

And with that, the two of them disappeared into the night, silent as ghosts. After all, hunting was what they did best.

—

A deep BOOM reverberated through the sky as Kara's fist collided with Harry's gauntlet, sending shockwaves rippling outward. Nearby training drones exploded in a shower of metal shards, and the overhead lights flickered ominously. Harry smirked beneath his hood, his feet sliding slightly from the force but holding firm. Flames flickered behind him as his wings unfurled just long enough to steady himself mid-slide before retracting back into his armor.

Kara floated effortlessly above him, a grin plastered on her face. "Come on, Harry, is that all you've got? I thought those muscles meant something."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You really want to do this? Because I thought we were just here to show off our superhero poses."

"Yup!" Kara replied with a playful wink before vanishing in a blur of super-speed.

Harry barely had time to blink before she reappeared behind him, her boot aimed squarely at his back. But just as her foot was about to connect, Harry's fiery wings burst out, forcing her to retreat from the searing heat.

"Nice try," Harry quipped, twisting in mid-air. His body shimmered with red and gold light, and suddenly—BAM!—he vanished in a burst of speed, leaving a trail of embers in his wake.

Kara's eyes widened. "Oh, you've been practicing!"

Before she could react, Harry reappeared above her, both fists blazing like the Fourth of July. He hammered downward, and Kara crossed her arms in a block, but the impact sent her rocketing toward the ground, crashing into the floor with enough force to crack the stone beneath.

"That tickled," Kara muttered, brushing dust from her suit as she stood.

Before she could unleash her next attack, Kori swooped in—literally from above. "Tamaranian blitz!" she shouted, glowing with radiant green light as she slammed into Harry like a meteor. They plummeted together, creating a crater on impact.

"Okay, I'll give you that one!" Harry groaned, emerging from the debris. His armor had absorbed most of the hit, but the force still rattled him. His wings unfurled once more, flames swirling menacingly as the gem on his chest pulsed in sync with his heartbeat. "You've gotta stop announcing your attacks, Kori. It's like telling your enemy what's on your cheat sheet."

Kori smirked. "It's only cheating if it doesn't work." She unleashed twin energy blasts, emerald light streaking toward Harry like they were auditioning for a sci-fi movie.

Harry crossed his arms, channeling his magic into a glowing shield of flame. The bolts slammed into it, detonating with the force of an overly dramatic explosion, sending him skidding back. But before Kori could capitalize on it, Harry vanished again, this time reappearing behind her in a burst of fiery speed.

"Surprise!" he shouted, landing a spinning kick to her side, sending her flying across the arena.

Kara zoomed back into the fray, her hands glowing with solar energy. "Didn't forget about me, did you?"

"Not a chance," Harry shot back, blocking her punch with one gauntleted forearm. But Kara was ready this time. She pivoted, grabbing his arm mid-block and spinning him like a top before hurling him skyward.

Harry stabilized himself mid-flight, flames trailing from his wings like a jet stream. "Alright, that's it—no more Mr. Nice Phoenix."

The gem on his chest flared brighter, and suddenly, he was a streak of fire, rocketing back down toward Kara at breakneck speed. Kara braced herself as the two collided in mid-air with a thunderous boom, the shockwave rippling out like a sonic blast.

"You hit like a wizard, Harry!" Kara taunted, locking arms with him mid-flight as they grappled, their strengths evenly matched.

"And you fight like someone who skipped leg day!" Harry shot back, flames bursting from his wings to push them apart.

Before Kara could retort, Kori barreled into the fight again, catching both Harry and Kara in a wide arc of energy bolts. "Now this is fun!" Kori exclaimed, green light flaring around her as she unleashed a barrage of rapid-fire blasts.

The three fighters blurred across the battlefield, moving faster than a caffeinated squirrel on a sugar high. Every impact sent out shockwaves, and every dodge left scorch marks on the walls. They fought like titans—each hit powerful enough to crumble buildings, every movement precise and deliberate.

At one point, Kara and Kori teamed up, coordinating their attacks with the fluid grace of a perfectly timed dance number. Kori's energy bolts pinned Harry in place, while Kara sped in, fists glowing with solar energy. Just as they were about to land the final blow, Harry erupted in a fiery explosion, his wings expanding to their full span, scattering them both like confetti.

"Enough!" Harry shouted, his voice booming with the force of both magic and Kryptonian power. He hovered in the air, flames curling around him, the gem on his chest burning brighter than the sun. "You wanted a fight? Now you've got one!"

Kara grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Finally, he's taking the training wheels off."

Kori's eyes glowed brighter as she floated beside Kara. "Let's make him regret that."

And with that, the three of them launched toward each other again, moving faster than a speeding bullet, the arena shaking under the weight of their epic showdown. Energy beams clashed with fireballs, fists met shields of flame, and the air hummed with the sheer force of their powers. It was chaos, but what's a superhero training day without a little mayhem?

---

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the young wizards sat huddled together, jaws agape, eyes glued to the chaos unfolding before them. They were witnessing what could only be described as a superhero showdown, but without the popcorn.

Fred nudged George, both of them wide-eyed like kids in a candy store. "Do you reckon we'll get to do that in training?"

George shook his head slowly, as if he'd just seen a giant troll moonwalk across the hall. "Mate, if that's what's waiting for us, I'm moving to Antarctica. Just me and the penguins."

Neville gulped audibly, clutching his wand like it was a life preserver in a sea of trouble. "I thought we were just learning defense spells, not watching a superhero movie."

Dean leaned closer to Seamus, who had taken on an expression that suggested he might spontaneously combust from sheer anxiety. "Still think joining this team was a good idea?"

Seamus shook his head grimly. "Not even a little bit, mate. Not even a little bit."

Ron sat between Hermione and Ginny, his arms crossed and face scrunched up like he'd just tasted something sour. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. "How are we supposed to keep up with that?"

Hermione was scribbling furiously in her notebook, not even bothering to look up. "We'll manage—eventually," she said, more to reassure herself than anyone else.

Ginny, however, had a spark in her eye that looked suspiciously like trouble. "I'm just saying… I'm gonna learn to fly like that."

Ron turned to her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You're mad. Completely and utterly mad."

Ginny smirked and tilted her head, confidence radiating off her like a solar flare. "You say that now. Just wait."

Before Ron could argue further, a commanding presence entered the training hall, disrupting the air like a sudden gust of wind. Talia al Ghul stepped into the arena, her hair billowing behind her like a scene from an action movie. Her emerald-green eyes swept over the young wizards, assessing them like a hawk sizing up its dinner. The atmosphere grew thick with tension; you could practically cut it with a knife.

"Training begins now," Talia said, her voice slicing through the chaos like a sword through butter.

Fred and George exchanged uneasy glances, realizing their fun was about to come to a screeching halt. "Er… right now?" Fred asked, half-hoping she'd clarify this wasn't some elaborate prank.

Talia arched an eyebrow that screamed authority. "Was I unclear?"

"No, no, perfectly clear," George mumbled quickly, nudging Fred to shut up.

Neville raised a tentative hand, looking like he was back in Potions class and desperately hoping Snape wouldn't call on him. "Um… What exactly are we training for?"

"Survival," Talia replied, her tone as cool as an arctic breeze. "Or do you think Harry, Kara, and Kori are up there just for fun?"

"They… aren't?" Dean whispered, horrified as reality sunk in.

Talia's small, humorless smile suggested that she had no intention of sugar-coating the truth. "No. If you cannot survive them at their best, you will not survive what lies beyond this team." She turned sharply, her cloak swirling behind her. "Stand."

The young wizards scrambled to their feet, clutching their wands like they were the only things keeping them from tumbling into a bottomless pit of despair.

"Starting today," Talia continued, pacing like a general preparing her troops for battle, "you will learn more than just spells. You will learn strategy. Discipline. Combat. The rules of war." Her eyes narrowed as they landed on Ron, who looked particularly guilty. "And how to stop whining."

Ron's cheeks flushed as he quickly bit his tongue, the only thing preventing him from drowning in embarrassment.

Talia resumed her circuit, her gaze falling on Hermione's notebook. "You," she said, her voice smooth but commanding. "You seem to think knowledge will save you."

Hermione straightened, meeting Talia's gaze with determination. "It's important. We need to understand what we're facing," she insisted, though even she could hear the slight tremor in her voice.

Talia inclined her head slightly, a flicker of approval crossing her features. "Knowledge is power. But only if you know how to wield it." She gestured toward the fiery clash above them. "Observe them. Study them. What do you see?"

The wizards looked up, transfixed as Harry shot forward like a meteor, flames trailing behind him, while Kara and Kori danced around him in a dizzying display of energy blasts and pure chaos.

Fred squinted. "Uh… chaos?"

George nodded. "Yeah, lots of chaos."

Talia shook her head slowly. "No. Precision. Strategy. Adaptability." She pointed to Kara. "She uses speed and strength to overwhelm her opponent." Then her finger shifted to Kori. "She employs distance and energy to keep Harry off balance." Finally, her finger landed on Harry, who dodged their attacks with fiery bursts of movement. "And he… uses everything."

Neville gulped again. "Everything?"

Talia's lips twitched in what might have been amusement—or a warning. "Everything that works."

"Do… do we have to fight them?" Seamus asked, his voice barely above a squeak, as if he were trying to talk his way out of a dragon's lair.

"Eventually," Talia said, not missing a beat. "But for now, we start small."

With a clap of her hands, several practice dummies appeared in the arena, shimmering into existence. Each dummy was enchanted to look like an opponent—some wore Death Eater masks, while others resembled rogue metahumans. Basically, the scariest Halloween costumes you could imagine.

"First lesson," Talia said smoothly, moving toward the dummies with the grace of a panther. "Hit hard. Hit fast. No hesitation. If you hesitate, you die."

She stepped aside and gestured for them to begin.

The wizards exchanged nervous glances, uncertainty written all over their faces. Finally, Fred took a hesitant step forward, wand in hand. "Right. No hesitation. Got it."

But before he could even utter a spell, Talia was suddenly behind him, moving faster than they could comprehend. With a flick of her wrist, she knocked his wand from his hand and swept his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor like a very confused pancake.

"Too slow," she said coolly. "Try again."

Fred groaned as he clutched his ribs. "She's worse than Snape," he muttered under his breath, wondering if the student exchange program to Antarctica was still an option.

"I heard that," Talia said, not even bothering to glance back.

Ron turned to Hermione, his voice low and panic-stricken. "We're doomed."

Ginny, still captivated by the battle above, grinned like someone who'd just discovered a secret stash of chocolate. "Not doomed. Just… behind. For now." With newfound determination, she stepped forward eagerly, raising her wand toward the nearest dummy.

Talia watched her, a glimmer of approval sparking in her eyes. "Good. You may yet survive."

As the others reluctantly followed Ginny's lead, Talia crossed her arms and smiled faintly, which was a bit terrifying. "By the end of this, you'll either be warriors… or you'll wish you'd gone to Antarctica with your friend."

—

The young wizards had barely managed to drag themselves through another round of Talia's brutal drills when two new arrivals sauntered in, looking far too smug for everyone else's comfort.

Sirius Black grinned like he'd just found a hidden stash of Honeydukes chocolate. "Apologies for the delay. We were... lost."

Remus Lupin sighed beside him. "We stopped for sandwiches, Sirius. There's a difference."

"Lost in time, lost in hunger. It's all the same," Sirius said with a wink.

Talia Al Ghul didn't so much as blink. She'd been doing this long enough to recognize nonsense when it was wrapped up in charm. "Your timing is perfect," she said, crossing her arms. "These children require more than just combat skills. They'll need spellwork expertise. That's where you two come in."

Sirius clapped his hands together. "Finally! We get to traumatize the next generation. I've always dreamed of this day."

Talia raised an eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth twitched—almost like a smile. Almost. "I've already assessed their combat potential. You'll handle the magic. Let's make sure none of them die."

Remus leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "She has a strange way of saying 'please.'"

---

Talia pointed toward the twins, who were currently trying to enchant each other's socks to play 'The Macarena.' "These two are natural chaos-bringers. They'll thrive with guerrilla tactics—illusions, traps, misdirection. They don't fight fair, and that's exactly how we'll train them."

Remus tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Illusion spells, charm traps, environmental magic. Make them unpredictable."

Sirius grinned. "They'll love that. It's like weaponizing a prank war."

---

Talia's gaze shifted to Neville, who was wobbling under the weight of a shield charm but refused to give up. "Neville has more endurance than skill—yet. He'll be our defensive specialist. Barriers, counters, survival tactics. He won't start the fight, but he'll be the last one standing."

Remus gave a proud smile. "He just needs some confidence—and maybe a few binding charms."

Sirius clapped Neville on the shoulder. "You're a sleeper agent, kid. One day, you'll be terrifying."

Neville blinked. "Thanks?"

---

"Thomas is an athlete," Talia continued, pointing to Dean. "He needs a style that enhances his physicality. Enchant his weapons. Make him dangerous with or without a wand."

Remus nodded. "Transfiguration magic with combat spells—so he's ready for anything, even if disarmed."

Sirius leaned closer. "Basically, he's going to be that guy who punches the villains in the face. I love it."

---

Talia didn't even flinch as Seamus made another dummy burst into flames behind her. "This one? He blows things up. A lot. But we'll make sure those explosions hit the right target. He'll focus on destructive magic—elemental spells, fire, and controlled detonations."

Remus gave a weary sigh. "Key word: controlled."

Sirius chuckled. "We should invest in fireproof robes."

---

Talia pointed to Hermione, who was still scribbling notes in between blocking spells. "Granger will specialize in battlefield control. Wards, containment spells, transfiguration. If anyone can out-plan the enemy mid-fight, it's her."

Remus beamed. "She'll keep the whole team standing."

Sirius grinned. "As long as we can teach her to leave a little room for improvisation."

Hermione glanced up from her notes. "I can improvise."

Sirius winked. "I'll believe it when I see it."

---

Talia gave Ron a critical look—like she was trying to figure out whether he'd be more useful holding a sword or snacks. "Weasley is dependable. He'll focus on support magic—disarming spells, crowd control, stunners. His job will be to keep everyone alive when things go south."

Remus nodded. "He'll learn shield charms, too. Someone has to guard the flank."

Sirius shot Ron a grin. "Think of it as being the glue that holds the whole mess together."

Ron groaned. "So I'm the guy making sure nobody dies?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's an underrated skill."

---

Talia smirked as she looked at Ginny. "This one has ambition. And a lot of fire. She'll focus on aerial combat—fast, precise strikes from above. Give her flight spells and high-speed hexes."

Remus smiled knowingly. "We'll teach her control. She'll need it."

Sirius shot Ginny a mischievous grin. "You've got that dangerous look. I like it. You know, I'll have a word with Harry—see if he'll hand over his Firebolt. Not like he needs it anymore, what with those flaming wings of his."

Ginny's eyes lit up, her smirk sharpening. "You serious?"

Sirius gave her a mock offended look. "Always."

Ginny chuckled, the corners of her mouth lifting higher. "I'll take it off his hands—assuming he can catch me to hand it over."

Sirius clapped her on the shoulder, still grinning. "That's the spirit. Make him work for it."

Remus sighed, shaking his head. "Great. Another competitive flyer in the family. Just what we needed."

Ginny leaned back, crossing her arms with a smug smile. "You say that like it's news."

Sirius winked. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

---

With everyone assessed, Talia folded her arms. "These are the roles I see for each of them. Your job is to make sure their magic aligns with it. We don't have time to waste."

Sirius clapped his hands, looking way too excited about all this. "I'll take the twins. Explosions and chaos? My kind of party."

Remus sighed, already anticipating the paperwork from that decision. "I'll focus on Neville and Ron. They'll need a lot of encouragement."

Talia gave them both a stern nod. "Good. Now, let's see if you can keep them from getting themselves killed."

Sirius flashed her a grin. "What's life without a little risk?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Alive."

Remus smiled faintly. "She's got a point."

And with that, the drills resumed—more groans, more fire, and more explosions ringing through the air. The young wizards were exhausted, scorched, and maybe slightly traumatized.

But hey, that's how legends start.

—

Harry, Kara, and Kori hit the ground like comets, skidding to a stop as dust and pebbles flew in every direction. The cracks they left behind made it look like the earth had just tried—and failed—to survive a super-powered game of dodgeball. Harry folded his fiery wings back into his body with a satisfying whoosh, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Kara landed beside him, her arms crossed and wearing that I-could-do-this-all-day expression, while Kori hovered just above the ground, her glowing hair swirling in the wind like a living thing.

"That last hit was totally unnecessary," Harry grumbled, giving Kori a look. "You were aiming to throw me into orbit, admit it."

Kori blinked, confused but cheerful. "I did not aim for orbit! I only wished to... how do you say? Kick the butt? Yes, I wished to kick your butt very hard."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Same thing, Kori. Same thing."

Kara snickered. "He kinda deserved it, though, right?"

"Hey!" Harry shot her a look. "I thought we were teammates, Kara."

"I am a teammate," Kara replied with a grin. "I just think you need tougher skin. Kryptonian rules, remember?"

Kori beamed, clearly proud. "Yes! Kryptonian rules! No mercy until the enemy is the puddle on the floor!"

Harry stared at her. "That's... definitely not a thing."

Before they could argue further, Sirius and Remus strolled over, both looking like they'd accidentally walked into a Quidditch match where the Snitch was on fire. Which, honestly, wasn't too far off.

"Nice landing," Sirius said, clapping Harry on the back. "Though, for the record, in my day, we just dueled with wands. None of this aerial fistfight nonsense."

"That is because you were very silly back in your day," Kori said with complete sincerity. "But it is good that you are not the clorbag varblernelk now."

Sirius blinked, unsure whether to feel insulted or flattered. "Uh... thanks?"

Remus chuckled. "Don't overthink it, Padfoot. Just smile and nod."

Talia, standing nearby with her arms crossed, arched an eyebrow. "Are you all finished with the comedy routine, or should I come back later?"

Sirius grinned. "Oh, we're just getting started."

He turned to Ginny, who was standing with the rest of the wizards, arms folded and clearly sizing up the trio who had just landed. "Speaking of which," Sirius said slyly, "I think it's time Harry handed over that Firebolt. He's got those fancy wings now, and you need a broom, Weasley."

Ginny's eyes lit up with excitement. "Finally. About time I got my hands on the fastest broom ever made."

Harry held up his hands. "Whoa, wait—who said I was giving up my Firebolt?"

"You don't need it," Sirius said with an unrepentant grin. "Come on, kid, you've got wings made of fire. What's a broom going to do that your own personal jetpack can't?"

Ginny stepped forward, smirking like a cat that just found a mouse in the pantry. "Face it, Potter. I'm the better flyer anyway."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so," Ginny said, daring him with her gaze. "Unless you're too scared to let me prove it."

Kara leaned over to Kori with a whisper. "Oh yeah, he's not getting out of this one."

Kori nodded earnestly. "Yes! This is the excellent moment of the honor battle, where the victorious one flies on the magical stick and the loser sulks, yes?"

Kara tried—and failed—to hide a grin. "Uh... yeah, something like that."

Harry groaned, realizing that there was absolutely no way out of this. "Fine. Take the broom. But if you scratch it—"

"You'll have to catch me first," Ginny interrupted with a wink, snatching an imaginary Snitch out of the air.

Sirius threw back his head and laughed. "Now this is the kind of training I was hoping for!"

Talia rolled her eyes, though the hint of a smirk tugged at her lips. "If you're all done showing off, we have real work to do."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered. "We'll try not to knock down any more mountains."

"Please do," Remus added with a grin. "We're running out of them."

Kori gasped, her eyes wide with concern. "Oh no! If we destroy all the mountains, where will the goats go?"

Harry shot a helpless look at Kara, who just shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who decided to bring her along."

Kori floated higher, still fretting. "Should I bring the goats to the mall of shopping? Do they have goats there?"

Sirius gave a mischievous grin. "I love this kid."

Talia sighed. "This is going to be a long day."

—

Gotham Academy's football field was buzzing with late-evening energy—the kind of buzz you only get when you're one touchdown away from glory. Except, instead of a full team, it was just two guys: Dick Grayson and Victor Stone. One of them was supposed to be practicing football. The other? Well, he just liked running circles around people.

Dick jogged backward across the field, grinning like he had no idea what "tired" meant. "Come on, Vic! I know you're not planning on throwing like that when the Wildcats scouts show up."

Victor Stone, aka Future Quarterback of Gotham City (he hoped), huffed and rolled his eyes. "If I throw any harder, you're going to have to catch it in the next zip code."

Dick, never one to be out-sassed, gave him an exaggerated shrug. "Better that than handing it to the other team. You know, like the Gotham High Goons—"

"Don't even," Vic warned, stifling a laugh. "We don't talk about the Goons."

Dick winked. "We always talk about the Goons. Now come on, future NFL star. Let's see that cannon arm."

Vic sighed, shaking his head, but the smile creeping across his face betrayed him. "Alright, but if you mess this up, I'm benching you as my unofficial wide receiver."

"Me?" Dick gasped, clutching his chest like Vic had mortally wounded him. "I am the perfect wide receiver. Ask anyone. I've got cat-like reflexes."

Vic arched a skeptical brow. "More like squirrel-like reflexes, dude."

Dick snickered but didn't argue. "Alright, alright. I'll catch it. Scouts love a good hero moment."

Vic set his feet, gripping the football like it was the key to his future (because, let's be honest, it kind of was). With a sharp inhale, he launched the ball, sending it spiraling through the air like a missile.

Dick took off, cutting across the field as if someone had hit fast-forward. The football arced high, but Dick leapt for it with a spin move that would've made a circus acrobat jealous. He hit the ground in a smooth roll, popped back up like gravity was just a suggestion, and held the ball above his head in triumph.

"Boom! Touchdown!" Dick whooped, tossing the ball back to Vic with a grin that practically glowed in the dark. "Told you I've got squirrel—uh, I mean cat-like reflexes."

Vic caught the ball, shaking his head. "You make that look way too easy, man."

"That's what I'm here for," Dick said, patting his own shoulder like he deserved a medal. "Well, that and stealing all your fries later."

"Big talk for a guy who doesn't even play football," Vic teased, slinging the ball over his shoulder. "Seriously, though. What are you training for, anyway? You're not on the track team, and you work out like you've got the Olympics tomorrow."

Dick grinned. "Maybe I've got some secret goals of my own. Maybe I'm aiming for... world domination."

"Uh-huh." Vic crossed his arms. "More like 'world's most annoying best friend.'"

Dick slung an arm around Vic's shoulders as they started toward the locker room. "Yeah, but I'm your most annoying best friend, and that's what counts."

Vic laughed, shoving him lightly. "You know, I really appreciate this, though. I need that scholarship, man."

"You're gonna crush it," Dick said without missing a beat. "Wildcats would be nuts not to take you. Seriously, you throw like a young Tom Brady. Minus the weird diet and questionable fashion choices."

Vic snorted. "Yeah? And what's your plan, oh wise and mysterious one?"

Dick waggled his eyebrows. "Win the friend-of-the-quarterback lottery, obviously. VIP tickets, free snacks, the works."

Vic grinned. "Deal. But only if you stop stealing my fries."

Dick gasped, like Vic had just committed a mortal sin. "No promises, buddy. No promises."

They both laughed as they made their way off the field, their voices carrying into the cool Gotham night. For now, the world outside didn't matter—no villains, no secret identities (well, not that Vic knew about), and no looming doom. Just two best friends, a football, and the promise of fries at the finish line.

Because, really, that's what friendship is all about. Right?

—

Raven stood in the middle of what used to be Azarath, feeling like she'd just botched the world's worst science experiment—except the broken beakers were entire buildings, and the casualty list included everyone she'd ever known. The once-peaceful temples were now piles of rubble, and the sweet air that used to hum with meditation chants smelled like... well, if a barbecue exploded and caught everything on fire.

She tugged her hood lower, like that would help block out the carnage. Spoiler: it didn't. No matter how hard she tried to keep her face calm, her insides felt like someone had stuffed them in a blender. All of this... because I wanted to get to know my dad. Note to self: If your father is a multi-eyed demon from a hell dimension, just send a card next time.

And as if things couldn't get worse, that delightful dad of hers was now permanently in her head.

"Oh, come now, daughter," Trigon purred like a smug cat lounging on a couch he just shredded. "You made your choice. This world was your gift to me. So thoughtful."

Raven scowled. "You know you're supposed to say 'thank you' after someone gives you a gift, right?"

"Thank you, my little destroyer," Trigon rumbled, his voice practically dripping with malice. "I'm sure you'll get me another one soon."

She took a deep breath. Freaking out? Not an option. Breaking down? Also not on the table. This wasn't a "cry-in-the-bathroom-stall" kind of disaster. It was more of a "pack up and leave before things get worse" situation.

Unfortunately, "things getting worse" was kind of her brand.

Raven muttered the words that had always given her focus: "Azarath Metrion Zinthos." A tiny flicker of calm settled in her mind, like the first sip of hot chocolate on a really cold day. But it didn't last.

A jagged, swirling portal crackled to life in front of her. It wasn't exactly neat—more like a gaping hole in reality with "I dare you to jump" energy—but it would do.

She glanced one last time at the wreckage of Azarath, guilt gnawing at her like a persistent mosquito. "Sorry," she whispered, though she knew it wasn't enough. It never would be.

But wallowing wasn't going to fix anything. She had a demon father in her brain, a ruined home, and—bonus—absolutely no idea where she was headed next. Solid game plan, right?

"Where are we going, little bird?" Trigon's voice slithered through her mind, full of that "I'm an evil overlord, and I love it" charm. "You know you can't run from me."

"Not running," she muttered, stepping toward the portal. "Just... creatively avoiding."

Without another second of hesitation, she jumped through. The world twisted around her, colors blending into shadows, and then—boom—she was gone.

Where she'd land? Not a clue. Hopefully somewhere with less rubble. Maybe even a snack. And definitely no demons. Well, except for the one she couldn't get rid of.

Trigon chuckled softly in her mind. "We'll be together forever, daughter."

Raven gritted her teeth. "Yeah, yeah. Get in line behind my other problems."

The portal sealed behind her, leaving nothing but silence in Azarath's ruins. And for the first time in a while, Raven let herself hope—just a little—that wherever she ended up, things might actually get better.

Or at least, not worse.

---

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