Can we get more beta Bruce? Specifically, League identity reveal.
Could also work with omega but more coddling/treating him like he's weaker/more fragile.
The identity reveal goes pretty well, at first. The League is curious about his not-pack of strays and such. They get to see the Batcave and Bruce's collection of trophies.
But they start undermining his authority. They dismiss his ideas. Stop listening to his protocols. J'onn at least, is still friendly and attentive, supporting him in meetings and following protocols and contingencies, but the rest of the league lets their biases slip more
The real line is crossed when they arrest Red Hood despite Gotham being clearly off limits and the general rule in the hero community that you don't mess with another's territory uninvited.
Maybe they treat Nightwing the same or like he has authority over Bruce at times...
"Call off your dog," Guy groans, flopping into the seat next to Dick. He rolls his eyes at the Lantern's arrival, but puts his phone down anyway.
"The Bat. Your beta's getting ideas above his designation."
"He's pitching a fit down in the containment corridor. Trying to order us about like he's not facing off against a wall of alphas."
Dick is already sprinting down the corridor before it occurs to him to deck the Lantern. But he keeps running anyway, reaching for Bruce's pack bond in his mind, reassuring himself it's still there.
They'd noticed. They're not stupid.
But what made Bruce actually confront the League on their biases?
He tumbles into the containment corridor, and Bruce's eyes dart to him behind the cowl. Dick looks at Clark, ineffectually pinned to the wall by his neck, and drops to a knee, lowering his head.
"Pack Leader, what do you need from me?"
Shock flits across the present faces at the title, and annoyance ripples under Dick's skin.
"Get Jason," Bruce orders. "He's in Cell D."
Dick doesn't make it more than a step before he's stopped.
"When will you stop ordering alphas around, beta?"
Dick isn't sure how it happened. One minute he's listening to Bruce be talked down to, the next they're preparing to snap Bruce's mind in two.
They end up in the training rooms, because there is spectator seats like stadium stands, and Dick's blood boils at the speed with which they fill, with heroes eager to watch Batman be taken down a...bout a thousand pegs.
"What were you thinking?" Steph hisses, claws pricking the skin of his arm.
"I wasn't. I blacked out. But Bruce agreed, and we can't back out now, not if we want it to work."
"This kills alphas. No beta has ever attempted it."
The man himself is off to the side, letting the stands fill as he tends to Jason's wounds from fighting his capture. Other than a pretty bad knock to the head, it's mostly just cuts and scrapes the beta tends to. He's not been allowed his suit, some sadist claimed it would give him extra support, so he's changed into sweats and a tank, so the room can see every flicker of pain from each break.
It's thirty minutes before Superman calls the room to attention, even if he looks wary about it.
Dick isn't sure why he explains the rules, they all know it.
Bond breaking is the worst pain fathomable to the human psyche. The truest test of fortitude from human history is withstanding those breaks. Typically used by the aristocracy, those too 'dignified' for a proper dominance fight, to prove who the stronger alpha is.
"J'onn will monitor that the bonds have been severed." The old methods are notoriously unreliable.
Bruce is called to the centre of the sparring ring, and while Clark flies over to his seat, Diana steps forward to take his place.
"Signal," she calls. The kid crosses his arms, lifting his chin stubbornly, and doesn't move an inch.
"Signal," Bruce barks. "Front and centre!"
This is a performance as much as a test, Dick knows, but hearing such a harsh tone from Bruce is startling. They need to prove he's capapble, though. They must commit.
"Break the bond, Signal."
Duke clenches a fist, and bows his head.
"The bond is broken," J'onn announces, voice projecting through the room.
Duke tries to run to Bruce, and hits a telekinetic barrier. Dick scans the room, trying to find the source, but it quickly becomes apparent it's a fruitless effort.
Steph responds immediately to Bruce's call, taking Duke's place. None of her earlier hesitation is shown, and Dick applaudes her mask.
They need to put forward a united front.
Bruce sways on his feet, but manages to steady himself. His tank clings to his skin, which drips with sweat, deathly pale as it is. Six breaks so far.
The family is sequestered off to the side of the room, and as Barbara moves to join them, all eyes are on Bruce.
By some miracle, he stays upright.
His voice is as loud as when they began, like a drill sergeant commanding soldiers, and Dick isn't sure anyone but family can hear the tremor.
Unease sweeps through the room as Jason slowly shuffles to the designated spot, murmurs of dissent filling the room.
Diana, who had moved off to the side when it became apparent Bruce was running this show, leans in to Clark, both whispering. Barry stands in the front row, holding out a hand.
"Him? He's your injured pup, and you want to sever the bond?"
It's been known to trick instincts into believing the packmate died. It's further than the strict regulations of the tornament allow.
"Sit down, Allen," Bruce growls.
"This is against the rules—"
"You wanted a show." Bruce's breaths grow increasingly laboured as he speaks. So far he's not done more than call their names, formulating speech must be agonising. "You got one. Don't back out now because you feel guilty." Barry falls silent, and Bruce's glare roves over the uneasy crowd. "Don't penalise me by ending it early because you don't want to admit you signed up to watch a teammate get tortured for fun."
No one meets the betas eyes, and he drops them from the stands to Jason.
Jason blinks, still disoriented by his concussion, but eventually nods slowly. Dick holds his breath. This is the one he's worried about. Barry isn't wrong. In any other tornament, this would never be allowed.
"The bond has been broken!"
Bruce's eyes flutter closed, and he sways dangerously in place. His claws descended after Damian's go and Dick watches the puddle of blood on the floor grow as they dig deeper into his clenched fists.
Dick can't bring himself to step forward. Hypocritical, he knows, but Bruce looks ready to crumple.
Bruce's eyes snap open to glare at him, and he can feel the burning gazes from his pack across the room. Don't mess this up now.
He trudges to spot, facing Bruce, and reaches for the bond in his mind.
Not for the first time in his life, much to his chagrin, and Bruce's current benefit, Dick snaps his bond.
"The bond has been broken!"
Bruce's legs buckle. Dick doesn't move, knowing he can't intervene, and resigns himself to failure, then cuts the thought in half as Bruce manages to straighten his leg again, forcing himself upright before he can hit the floor.
Clark hops the barrier, and stumbles at J'onn's words.
"The bond has been broken!"
"What?" Clark whirls on the Martian, who gestures to Alfred standing by the door. Dick stares at the old butler incredulously. What is he doing? When did he get here?
Mutters sweet through the room.
Bruce wobbles again, a groan wheezing out of his chest, and the Martian bows his head. "And I have just broken my own bond with Batman."
Diana leaps over the barrier too. "J'onn, what are you—"
"I am now packless," Bruce interrupts. He doesn't yell anymore, and although his tone is even, you can hear the fatigue in it. "Is that enough proof for you that I am worthy of respect from you damn knotheads?"
Dick clenches his fists. If this isn't enough—
"Batman has completed tournament, proving his stamina, strength, and mental fortitude, as the first beta to ever take part.
"You may now indulge your instincts, you and your packmates are free to go."
Bruce sneers, striding past the seemingly dissipated barrier. "What pack, Diana? You made sure of that."
He storms out of the room, which is left in somber silence.
"How the fuck did he do that?" Arthur asks, breaking the silence, and Dick curls his lip in disgust.
