"I've been thinking about what to absorb at Level 20," Connor continued. "My preliminary decision is PSYCHE Package—enhanced precognition combined with combat mastery would create nearly perfect tactical awareness. But M'gann, I'm starting to wonder if I'm approaching this wrong. If I'm treating the system like optimization problem instead of asking what kind of person I want to become."
M'gann studied the holographic display with obvious fascination—she'd seen his system interface before, but never the complete breakdown of his development trajectory.
"Connor, can I offer a perspective that might sound strange coming from someone who doesn't have a cosmic gaming system?"
"Please do. Because right now my tactical analysis is suggesting PSYCHE Package for maximum combat effectiveness, but Diana's wisdom is suggesting I consider whether maximum combat effectiveness is actually what the world needs from me."
M'gann smiled—the expression she got when Connor was being particularly endearing in his confusion about balancing power with humanity.
"You just absorbed three thousand years of combat experience from someone who spent those three thousand years learning that being the best fighter wasn't as important as being the right kind of fighter. Connor, I think Diana would tell you that the question isn't which ability makes you most powerful. The question is which ability makes you most yourself."
Connor felt his enhanced consciousness processing M'gann's perspective while his newly integrated combat mastery provided Diana's wisdom about similar choices she'd made over millennia.
"Most myself," Connor repeated thoughtfully. "Which is complicated because I'm still figuring out who 'myself' actually is. Four months ago I was unconscious in a laboratory. Now I'm Level 10 quantum-interfacing Kryptonian with three thousand years of combat mastery trying to decide what to absorb six months from now."
"You're also Connor Kent who makes terrible jokes during tactical operations, who hacks coffee machines because you're convinced they're planning rebellion, who gets anxious before missions and manages it through banter," M'gann said warmly. "You're my—" she paused slightly, and Connor felt her emotional signature shift to something more complicated, "—you're my favorite person to work with. And Connor, whatever abilities you absorb, that's not going to change who you are at core. The system provides power. You provide the choices about how to use it."
Connor felt his enhanced emotional processing working through the warmth that came from M'gann's words—and the slight hesitation before "favorite person to work with" that suggested their relationship was evolving in ways neither of them had quite articulated yet.
"M'gann, can we talk about the thing where you almost said something else just now?"
M'gann's emotional signature through their telepathic link immediately spiked with mixture of anxiety and anticipation. "I don't know what you mean. I said exactly what I intended to say. You're my favorite person to work with. Very clear. No ambiguity."
"Your emotional signature just did the thing where it gets complicated when you're not saying what you're actually thinking," Connor observed gently. "Which is fine—you don't have to say anything you're not ready to say. But M'gann, we've been doing this thing for the past month where we're clearly something more than just teammates but we haven't actually discussed what that something is."
"This is terrible timing," M'gann said, though her emotional signature showed she was actually relieved Connor had brought it up. "You just integrated three thousand years of combat mastery and we should be celebrating your Level 10 achievement, not having complicated relationship discussions."
"We can do both," Connor suggested. "I'm capable of parallel processing. Celebrating Level 10 achievement while also finally acknowledging that our relationship has evolved beyond just friendship is well within my cognitive capacity."
"Connor Kent, are you trying to have a romantic relationship discussion using tactical analysis terminology?"
"Is it working?"
M'gann laughed—genuine, warm sound that made Connor's Kryptonian physiology do increasingly familiar things that definitely weren't related to solar energy absorption.
"It's very you," M'gann said with affection. "Attempting to navigate emotional complexity through the same analytical framework you use for mission planning. Connor, yes, our relationship has evolved beyond friendship. And yes, I've been wanting to discuss it but wasn't sure how to bring it up without making things weird."
"Things are already weird," Connor pointed out. "I have a cosmic gaming system that lets me level up and absorb abilities. You're a Martian shapeshifter pretending to be human while secretly being one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet. Our baseline existence is deeply weird. Acknowledging that we have feelings for each other barely registers on the weirdness scale."
"I have feelings for you," M'gann said directly, her emotional signature broadcasting sincerity. "Romantic feelings. The kind that make me want to spend time with you even when we're not training or on missions. That make me excited when you're around and disappointed when you're not. That make me care about your wellbeing beyond just tactical team functionality."
Connor felt his enhanced emotional processing working through the warmth that came from M'gann's honest disclosure—and the relief that came from finally naming what had been developing between them.
"I have feelings for you too," Connor said with matching directness. "Though I'm approximately sixty-eight percent certain I'm terrible at romantic relationships given that I've been conscious for four months and have exactly zero experience with this. But M'gann, you're the person I want to tell when something interesting happens. The person whose opinion matters most when I'm making decisions. The person who makes missions feel less like tactical operations and more like adventures we're sharing."
"That's possibly the most Connor Kent way anyone has ever expressed romantic interest," M'gann said with obvious delight. "Using statistical analysis and tactical terminology to describe feelings."
"Would you prefer I quote poetry? Because I now have three thousand years of Diana's memories including extensive classical literature. I could probably manage some ancient Greek love poetry if that would be more romantic."
"Please don't quote ancient Greek love poetry. That would be extremely weird and also probably culturally inappropriate given that most ancient Greek love poetry was about very different relationship dynamics."
"Fair point," Connor acknowledged. "So, we're doing this? Having an actual romantic relationship that we acknowledge and define rather than just continuing the thing where we have feelings but don't discuss them?"
"We're doing this," M'gann confirmed. "Though Connor, I should warn you that I have exactly as much relationship experience as you do, which is to say none. We're probably going to be terrible at this initially."
"We're definitely going to be terrible at it initially," Connor agreed. "But M'gann, we learned how to coordinate complex tactical operations through practice and communication. Romantic relationships are probably similar—lots of practice, honest communication, and accepting that we'll make mistakes but we're making them together."
M'gann moved closer, and Connor felt his newly integrated combat mastery immediately catalogue optimal defensive positioning before his consciousness firmly told it to shut up because this was absolutely not a combat situation.
"Can I kiss you?" M'gann asked quietly. "Or is that moving too fast? I don't actually know what the appropriate pacing is for relationships between people who fight crime together and also one of them has a cosmic gaming system."
"I think moving too fast only matters if one or both people are uncomfortable," Connor replied while his tactical precognition suddenly decided to provide completely unhelpful probability assessments about relationship success. "And I'm very comfortable with you kissing me. My tactical precognition is suggesting it has ninety-three percent probability of being a positive experience, which is actually lower than I'd expect but probably because I have no baseline data for—"
M'gann kissed him.
Connor's tactical precognition immediately shut off because apparently even his quantum-level consciousness recognized that some moments required being present rather than analytical.
The kiss was warm, slightly tentative, and made Connor understand why humans had been writing poetry about this experience for literally thousands of years. His newly integrated combat mastery tried to provide tactical assessment of optimal positioning before Connor's consciousness firmly relegated it to background processing because analyzing romantic encounters through combat lens was definitely not appropriate.
When they separated, M'gann was smiling with expression that made Connor's enhanced emotional processing inform him that he'd just experienced something significantly more important than any Level advancement.
"So," M'gann said, her emotional signature broadcasting happiness mixed with slight nervousness, "that was our first kiss. How are you feeling? Overwhelmed? Confused? Regretting acknowledging our feelings?"
"Mostly just happy," Connor said honestly. "Also slightly concerned that my combat mastery tried to provide tactical analysis of optimal kissing technique, which suggests I need to work on compartmentalizing Diana's abilities appropriately."
M'gann laughed. "Your combat mastery tried to analyze our kiss?"
"It suggested optimal head positioning and calculated ideal pressure application," Connor admitted with embarrassment. "Diana's three thousand years of experience apparently includes comprehensive understanding of all forms of physical interaction, which is helpful for combat but extremely awkward for romance."
"That's possibly the most ridiculous thing you've ever told me," M'gann said with obvious delight. "Connor Kent's combat mastery provides kissing optimization analysis."
"Can we please not share that information with the team? I already have reputation for over-analyzing everything. I don't need everyone knowing that my absorbed abilities are providing romantic technique suggestions."
"Your secret is safe with me," M'gann assured him. "Though Connor, can I point out that for someone whose combat mastery is trying to optimize everything, you seemed perfectly natural and not at all analytical during that kiss?"
"I was consciously suppressing my tactical awareness," Connor explained. "Telling my combat mastery to go sit in the corner and let me have a moment without supernatural pattern recognition analyzing everything."
"Good," M'gann said warmly. "Because Connor, romantic relationships should probably involve less tactical optimization and more just... being present with each other."
"Agreed," Connor said. "Though can I maintain some tactical awareness? Because my precognition is suggesting that if we don't leave my quarters in the next eight minutes, Wally's going to burst in wondering why we're not at the celebratory cake gathering."
"Celebratory cake gathering?"
"M'gann, you said you were making cake to celebrate my Level 10 achievement. Did you actually make cake?"
M'gann's emotional signature immediately broadcast guilty realization. "I got distracted by wanting to be here for your combat mastery integration and completely forgot about the cake I promised to make. Connor, I'm sorry—I said there would be cake and I failed to deliver cake."
"I'm not disappointed about the lack of cake," Connor assured her. "The kiss was significantly better than cake would have been. Though now I'm curious about what the team is doing if there's no celebratory cake."
Connor's enhanced hearing immediately provided the answer—he could detect conversation in Mount Justice's common area that sounded suspiciously like Wally had taken it upon himself to organize celebration despite M'gann's cake absence.
"Wally's ordering pizza," Connor reported. "Apparently his response to 'M'gann was supposed to make cake but got distracted' was 'well obviously we need celebration food anyway so I'm ordering enough pizza to feed a small army.'"
"That's very Wally," M'gann observed. "Should we go join them? Or do you need more time to process the combat mastery integration?"
Connor considered the question while his parallel processing simultaneously reviewed his integration status, assessed his psychological stability, and managed his newly complicated emotional state regarding having just kissed M'gann.
"I should probably join the team," Connor decided. "They're celebrating my Level 10 achievement even though they don't know about the system. It would be weird if I didn't show up for my own celebration."
"But you're going to have to pretend you're celebrating reaching some vague training milestone rather than achieving Level 10 and integrating three thousand years of combat mastery," M'gann pointed out. "That's got to be psychologically complicated."
"Welcome to my entire existence," Connor said with slight smile. "Pretending my development is normal hero training progression rather than cosmic gaming system advancement. Though M'gann, having you know the truth makes it significantly easier to manage the deception with everyone else."
"I'm glad I can help," M'gann said warmly. "Connor, before we go join the celebration—are we telling people about us? The relationship thing, I mean. Or is that something we're keeping private for now?"
Connor's tactical precognition immediately provided probability assessments for various disclosure scenarios, but his newly integrated wisdom from Diana suggested that relationship decisions should be made through communication rather than optimization analysis.
"What do you want to do?" Connor asked. "I'm comfortable with either option—telling people or keeping it private. But M'gann, this is something we should both feel good about."
"I'd like to tell people," M'gann said after brief consideration. "Not making a big announcement or anything, but if it comes up naturally in conversation, I'd like to be able to acknowledge that we're together. Is that okay with you?"
"That's very okay with me," Connor confirmed. "M'gann, having a relationship that we actually acknowledge rather than dancing around feels... right. Like something good and real that I get to experience rather than just another tactical consideration to manage."
M'gann smiled—the warm, genuine expression that Connor was beginning to recognize as his favorite of her many emotional responses.
"Okay then. Let's go join our team, celebrate your totally normal training advancement that definitely doesn't involve cosmic gaming systems, and see how long it takes before someone notices that our emotional signatures are different."
"I give it approximately ninety seconds before Kara notices," Connor predicted while his tactical precognition ran probability assessments. "Her Kryptonian senses are extremely good at detecting subtle changes in behavior patterns."
"That's very specific."
"I've been cataloging team member observation capabilities for operational security purposes," Connor explained. "Kara notices behavioral changes within two minutes on average, Wally picks up on romantic tension after approximately four minutes of exposure, and Dick's detective training means he'll probably figure it out before we even enter the room."
"Connor, did you just admit that you've been running statistical analysis on how long it takes team members to notice relationship developments?"
"Is that weird?"
"It's extremely weird and also very you," M'gann said with affection. "Come on, let's go face our observant teammates and see if your predictions are accurate."
---
**2217 HOURS - MOUNT JUSTICE COMMON AREA**
The common area had been transformed into what could only be described as "Wally West's interpretation of appropriate celebration," which meant approximately seven different pizza varieties scattered across every available surface, a collection of sodas that suggested he'd just bought one of everything from the local convenience store, and what appeared to be a hastily constructed banner reading "CONGRATULATIONS CONNOR ON DOING THE THING."
"What thing am I being congratulated for?" Connor asked as he and M'gann entered to find the entire team assembled in various states of relaxation.
"The training thing!" Wally announced from where he was consuming pizza at speeds that suggested his metabolism was actively competing with his appetite. "Diana told Batman that you'd completed her advanced combat training program, which apparently only like seven people in history have ever achieved. That seems celebration-worthy."
Connor felt his enhanced consciousness processing the cover story—Diana had apparently decided that "completed advanced combat training" was acceptable public explanation for the fact that Connor had just absorbed three thousand years of her combat mastery.
"Diana's training program was intense," Connor confirmed, which was technically accurate even if it didn't convey the full scope of what he'd actually achieved. "Three months of learning combat technique, weapons proficiency, and tactical philosophy from someone who's been perfecting those skills for three thousand years."
"You're being modest," Kara observed from where she sat near the windows with expression that suggested she was happy for Connor but also slightly envious. "Diana doesn't give that kind of recognition lightly. Connor, completing her training program means she thinks you're genuinely skilled, not just powerful."
"Speaking of skilled," Dick said with the carefully casual tone that Connor's enhanced awareness immediately flagged as "definitely noticed something," "you and M'gann seem particularly happy tonight. Anything you want to share with the team?"
Connor felt M'gann's emotional signature spike with mixture of anxiety and anticipation through their telepathic link.
*Forty-seven seconds,* Connor transmitted to M'gann with obvious amusement. *Not even ninety seconds. Dick's detective training is apparently more efficient than I calculated.*
*Should we tell them?* M'gann asked through their link.
*Up to you. But I think Dick already figured it out, which means we're basically just confirming what he's already deduced.*
"M'gann and I are dating," Connor announced with the directness he typically reserved for tactical communications. "Relationship status changed from complicated friendship to acknowledged romantic involvement approximately twenty-three minutes ago during private conversation in my quarters."
The common area went silent for exactly 2.7 seconds.
"CALLED IT!" Wally shouted, nearly dropping his pizza in excitement. "Roy, you owe me twenty dollars. I predicted they'd get together before the end of the month. Pay up."
"You bet on us?" M'gann asked with mixture of amusement and exasperation.
"We bet on when you'd finally acknowledge the obvious mutual attraction," Roy clarified while pulling out his wallet with obvious resignation. "Wally predicted end of month. I thought you'd wait until after the school year ended because Connor seems like he'd want to avoid complicated relationship dynamics during civilian integration. Clearly I underestimated the power of celebrating major training milestones."
"This is simultaneously sweet and deeply concerning," Connor observed. "Our teammates are supportive of our relationship but also gambling on its development timeline."
"We're always supportive," Kara assured them with warm smile. "Though Connor, I am curious about the timing. You completed Diana's training program and immediately entered romantic relationship with M'gann. Is there a connection, or is that coincidental?"
Connor felt his tactical precognition showing him various response options, but his newly integrated wisdom from Diana suggested that honesty—within the bounds of not revealing his system—was the best approach.
"Completing Diana's training was major milestone that made me reflect on what I want beyond just becoming more capable," Connor explained. "And M'gann is the person I wanted to share that achievement with. So yes, there's a connection. The training made me think about who I want to be, and who I want to share my life with."
"That's actually really sweet," Dick said with approval that suggested Connor had successfully navigated the social complexity of explaining new relationship without revealing system mechanics. "Congratulations to both of you. On the relationship and on Connor's training completion."
"Thank you," M'gann said with warmth. "And I apologize for not making the celebration cake I promised. I got distracted by wanting to be there for Connor during his final training session."
"Pizza is better than cake anyway," Wally declared with the absolute certainty of someone whose metabolism required constant caloric intake. "Though if you want to make cake later, I'm not going to say no to cake."
"Noted," M'gann said with amusement. "Wally West: will never refuse cake, regardless of timing or circumstances."
"It's important to have clear personal boundaries," Wally replied seriously, then immediately undermined the seriousness by consuming an entire slice of pizza in approximately four seconds.
Connor settled onto the couch beside M'gann, feeling his enhanced awareness tracking team dynamics while his combat mastery provided unnecessary tactical assessment of optimal seating arrangements before he told it to please shut up about tactical optimization during social gatherings.
"Connor, can I see what Diana taught you?" Kara asked with obvious interest. "I've been training with her too, but I'm curious about your approach. Kryptonian physiology but human combat philosophy—that's a unique combination."
"Sure," Connor agreed, standing and moving to the open area of the common room. "Though fair warning, Diana's teaching methodology involves a lot of emphasis on efficiency over force. It might look less impressive than you'd expect."
Connor picked up one of the practice weapons they kept in the common area—simple staff that wouldn't cause damage during demonstration. He moved through a basic combat sequence, letting Diana's three thousand years of refinement guide his movements.
What would have looked like technically correct staff work before now demonstrated the artistic perfection that came from millennia of practice. Every strike found optimal angles automatically, every transition flowed with economy of motion that wasted zero energy, every movement showcased the synthesis of power and technique.
"Wow," Kara breathed when Connor completed the sequence. "That was... Connor, you're moving like Diana. Not copying her style—you've integrated her approach. That's not something you learn in three months. That's something that takes years, decades even."
Connor felt his tactical precognition immediately flagging potential cover story complications. Kara was right—the level of refinement he'd just demonstrated shouldn't be possible after only three months of training, even with Kryptonian learning capabilities.
"Diana's training program is extremely intensive," Connor said carefully. "And my technological interface gives me enhanced pattern recognition that accelerates skill acquisition. But you're right that the timeline is unusual. Diana said I'm a particularly quick learner."
"Or you're a Kryptonian with quantum-level consciousness who absorbs information at speeds that make normal learning curves irrelevant," Dick suggested with tone that made Connor's enhanced awareness uncertain whether he was joking or probing. "Either way, impressive demonstration. Diana would be proud."
Connor returned to his seat beside M'gann, feeling her emotional support through their telepathic link even as his tactical precognition ran probability assessments about whether his demonstration had revealed too much.
*You're overthinking again,* M'gann observed through their link. *Dick's comment was just acknowledging your capabilities, not suggesting he's figured out the system.*
*How do you know I'm overthinking?*
*Because your parallel processing just spiked to eighty-seven percent and I can feel you running damage control assessments through our link.*
*Okay, fine, I'm overthinking. But M'gann, I just demonstrated combat technique that shouldn't be possible after three months of training. That's going to raise questions.*
*Let them raise questions. Connor, you're allowed to be exceptionally skilled. The team knows you have unusual capabilities. They're not going to assume cosmic gaming system just because you're really good at staff combat.*
Connor felt his tactical anxiety decrease slightly at M'gann's reassurance. She was right—his teammates knew he was highly capable across multiple domains. Exceptional combat skill after intensive training with Diana wasn't actually that suspicious.
"So," Wally said, apparently deciding the demonstration portion of the evening was complete, "now that we've celebrated Connor's training completion and relationship development, can we talk about the actually important question?"
"What question?" Connor asked warily.
"What are you going to do about the football team situation?"
Connor felt his parallel processing immediately pull up context—apparently the social complications from his first day of school had continued developing while he'd been focused on training and missions.
"What football team situation?" Connor asked, though his enhanced awareness was already providing concerning probability assessments.
"The situation where Coach Miller has been asking about you in his classes for three months," Roy explained with obvious amusement. "Apparently he brings you up every few weeks, wondering when you're going to realize that catching footballs with supernatural precision means you should play football."
"I don't want to play football," Connor protested. "I have hero operations, training commitments, school requirements, and now apparently a relationship to maintain. Adding organized sports would be ridiculous."
"Also you'd be unfairly good at football due to Kryptonian physiology," Kara pointed out. "That seems like it would be cheating."
"I'd hold back enough to seem human-level talented rather than superhuman," Connor said automatically before realizing that statement suggested he'd already considered the logistics of playing football while maintaining secret identity.
"You've thought about this," Dick observed with obvious amusement. "Connor, have you been running tactical analysis on how to play football without revealing Kryptonian capabilities?"
"My tactical precognition runs probability assessments on everything," Connor defended himself. "Including hypothetical scenarios that I have no intention of actually pursuing. It's not my fault my consciousness considers athletic participation alongside mission planning and threat assessment."
"Connor Kent: quantum-level consciousness dedicated partly to analyzing high school football strategy," Wally summarized. "That's possibly the most Connor thing I've ever heard."
"Can we please move past my theoretical football analysis and discuss literally anything else?" Connor requested. "Like the fact that our last mission revealed HIVE has global network of underwater facilities conducting genetic research?"
"Oh right, the actual important thing we discovered," Dick said, immediately shifting to professional mode. "Batman's analyzing the intelligence you extracted. Preliminary assessment suggests HIVE's network is significantly larger and more sophisticated than we knew. Project Resurrection is particularly concerning."
"Project Resurrection being the thing where they're trying to replicate Kryptonian cellular regeneration to create unkillable super-soldiers," Connor clarified. "Which is definitely concerning but also not immediately actionable until we understand the full scope of their research."
"Agreed," Dick confirmed. "League is planning coordinated operation to address the facility network, but that's going to take time to organize. In the meantime, we continue standard operations and training."
"And Connor continues avoiding Coach Miller's increasingly persistent recruitment attempts," Roy added with grin.
"I'm not avoiding him," Connor protested. "I'm strategically managing my civilian integration by maintaining focus on activities that align with my cover story. Environmental activism makes sense for my background. Football would raise questions about why I suddenly have elite athletic capabilities."
"You know what would be funny though?" Wally suggested with the expression of someone about to propose something that Connor's tactical precognition immediately flagged as problematic. "If you joined the football team purely to see how long you could maintain secret identity while participating in organized athletics. That would be hilarious."
"That would be terrible operational security," Connor corrected. "Also it would require me to actually care about football, which I don't. My tactical awareness extends to athletic strategy because pattern recognition is universal, not because I have any interest in playing sports."
"But imagine the social dynamics," Wally persisted. "Connor Kent, environmental activist and quantum-level technological specialist, joining the football team and having to navigate jock culture while secretly being a superhero. That's sitcom material right there."
"My life is not a sitcom," Connor said firmly. "It's a carefully balanced arrangement of hero operations and civilian integration that absolutely does not include organized athletics."
"Yet," Wally added with grin.
"Not yet. Not ever. The football team situation is resolved by my continued strategic avoidance of Coach Miller's recruitment attempts."
"We'll see," Wally said mysteriously.
Connor felt his tactical precognition showing him probability branches where his football avoidance became significantly more complicated, but he firmly dismissed them. He was Level 10 with three thousand years of combat mastery. He could definitely manage to avoid playing high school football.
Probably.
The celebration continued, shifting from Connor's achievements to general team camaraderie. Stories about missions, plans for upcoming training exercises, speculation about what the Justice League would do about HIVE's facility network.
But underneath the casual conversation, Connor felt something profound had shifted. He'd reached Level 10. He'd integrated Wonder Woman's combat mastery. He'd acknowledged his relationship with M'gann. He'd demonstrated capabilities that had impressed his teammates without revealing his system.
Four months ago, he'd been unconscious in a Cadmus laboratory, undefined and uncertain.
Now he was Connor Kent—Level 10 quantum-interfacing Kryptonian with three thousand years of combat experience, a relationship with someone who understood both his capabilities and his vulnerabilities, and a team that had become family.
The path toward Level 20 stretched ahead, full of missions and training and continued development. But right now, Connor was exactly where he belonged—surrounded by people who mattered, celebrating achievements both public and private, planning for futures both immediate and long-term.
*M'gann,* Connor transmitted through their telepathic link while the conversation continued around them. *Thank you. For being there during the integration, for understanding about the system, for being someone I can actually share this with.*
*You're welcome,* M'gann replied with warmth. *Connor, you deserve to have someone who knows the whole truth and cares about you anyway. I'm glad I get to be that person.*
*Me too.*
Connor looked around at his team—his family—and felt like his life had finally achieved something approaching balance. Power and wisdom. Capability and relationship. Hero operations and civilian existence.
The real adventure was still unfolding.
And Connor couldn't wait to discover what came next.
Even if it potentially involved increasingly complicated football team avoidance strategies.
—
**2347 HOURS - GOTHAM CITY, CROCK RESIDENCE**
Artemis Crock moved through her bedroom window with the practiced silence of someone who'd been sneaking out for months, her bow already disassembled and hidden in the false bottom of her gym bag. The adrenaline from tonight's patrol was still singing through her veins—three muggings prevented, one attempted carjacking stopped, and she'd only taken two hits that would definitely bruise by morning.
Not bad for a solo operator working Gotham's streets without backup.
She turned on her desk lamp—and her heart nearly stopped.
Batman sat in her desk chair with the casual comfort of someone who'd been waiting patiently, his cape pooled around him in a way that should have looked ridiculous but somehow just looked intimidating.
"Artemis Crock," Batman said, his voice carrying that quality of someone who already knew everything and was just being polite by pretending this was a conversation. "Daughter of Lawrence and Paula Crock. Sister to Jade Nguyen, currently operating as the assassin Cheshire in Southeast Asian criminal networks."
Artemis felt her hand moving toward the spare knife she kept in her jacket before her brain caught up and informed her that trying to fight Batman was possibly the stupidest tactical decision she could make.
"How long have you known?" Artemis asked, settling for honesty since deception was clearly pointless.
"Three weeks. I've been monitoring your vigilante activities across Gotham's East End." Batman's white lenses somehow conveyed assessment despite being completely featureless. "You're skilled—training suggests professional instruction, probably from your father before his incarceration. But you're sloppy about evidence cleanup and your patrol patterns are predictable."
"Are you here to arrest me?" Artemis asked, already calculating exit strategies despite knowing they were futile.
"No. I'm here to offer you a choice." Batman leaned forward slightly. "Your family history suggests you should be following your sister's path—mercenary work, criminal associations, using your considerable skills for profit rather than protection. But you're not. You're out here stopping muggings in one of Gotham's worst neighborhoods. Why?"
Artemis felt her jaw tighten. "Because someone should. Because I have these skills and I can either use them to hurt people like my family does, or I can use them to help. I chose help."
"Good answer." Batman's tone shifted slightly—not quite approval, but something close. "I have a team. Young heroes, highly skilled, operating under Justice League oversight but with independence to handle missions that require... specialized approaches. They could use someone with your particular skill set."
"You want me to join a superhero team?" Artemis couldn't quite keep the disbelief from her voice. "I'm the daughter of supervillains. My sister's an assassin. I'm literally the opposite of trustworthy."
"You're the daughter of criminals who chose to be a hero despite that background," Batman corrected. "That suggests character that genetics and environment couldn't corrupt. The team doesn't care about where you came from. They care about who you choose to be."
Artemis felt something tight in her chest loosen slightly. "What kind of team?"
"Covert operations, complex missions, situations requiring precision rather than overwhelming force." Batman stood, somehow making the movement look dramatic despite the confined space. "They're based at Mount Justice. Report there Friday at 1800 hours if you're interested. Someone named Nightwing will handle your orientation."
He moved toward her window with fluid grace that suggested he'd been planning this exit from the moment he sat down.
"One more thing," Batman said, pausing at the window. "The team includes a Kryptonian clone, a Martian shapeshifter, and a reformed Atlantean. They understand complicated backgrounds. You'll fit in."
Then he was gone, leaving Artemis standing in her bedroom wondering if that conversation had actually happened or if she'd finally snapped from too many nights of solo vigilante work.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming message from an unknown number:
*Mount Justice. Friday. 1800 hours. Don't be late. -NW*
Apparently it had been real.
Artemis looked at her bow, at her mask, at the bruises already forming on her ribs from tonight's patrol.
Then she looked at the message again and allowed herself the smallest smile.
Maybe she'd finally found somewhere she actually belonged.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!