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Cassandra wasn’t exactly a skeptic.

She had seen her fair share of magic and supernatural things. Plenty of them, to be honest. ‘To believe is to see,’ or so the saying goes, and she lived by that from the moment she had witnessed someone like Zatanna and Constantine in action through one of the cave’s monitors.

But, she did have her reservations. 

Cassandra wasn’t one to associate unexplainable situations with magic or some dark entity. Just like every single member who had been trained under Bruce’s mantle, logic and founded evidence remained at the top of the list of choices to make when it came to assumptions.

Always put everything in doubt. 

Find a clue.

Find a reason. 

Find the cause.

Follow the trail. 

Find the culprit.

It was a structure that had always worked for Bruce, and it had worked for all of them. Cassandra, especially.

And it wasn’t without reason. 

After all, growing up under a strict type of training from the moment she was born to be the ultimate living weapon was bound to keep her seeking some kind of structure that she could follow without an issue. 

Especially when having the freedom of choice for the first time in her life.

It had been overwhelming, those first few weeks when she came to Gotham to live with the family. She didn’t know what to do. What was considered wrong? What was considered right? All she had known was to follow orders and execute them, and all of that was gone now. Until Bruce gave her something to cling to. It was just a basic set of rules and objectives, but it did help.

But when it came to supernatural things, all those rules and objectives were pretty much useless. And because of this, all that was related to that specific theme had gained a special place in the back of Cassandra’s mind.

In other direct words, she did not like it.

Spells. Curses. Urban legends. Ghosts. Demons. Sorcerers. Magicians. All that fell in that category.

Cassandra did not like it.

There was no structure. No beginning and no end. No up or down. No left or right. 

And the rules? The rules of that world were as firm as quicksand under her feet. Too unstable and changing in the blink of an eye. There was no order and no logic, and just thinking about it would make her head throb.

She wanted nothing to do with it. It could stay in its own lane, and she would stick to her own. No need for them to cross paths.

But, of course, Damian didn’t seem to get the memo. And neither did Tim, apparently.

This whole… possession theory had made no sense to her. Damian was probably getting too much into those weird comics that the youngest member of the Kents kept gifting him. She wasn’t even sure how someone as grounded as Damian believed this type of nonsense. Nor did she know why Tim was going along with it.

…Scratch that. She knows exactly why Tim was going along with it.

If there was one thing that Tim loved more than being right, it was proving he was right and shoving it on Damian’s face. 

And since Tim was so sure of his own crazy theory, getting to discard Damian’s thoughts after getting Constantine’s help, out of all people, was going to be bragging material that would get dragged on for years and years. 

Cass knew how petty he could be, and she would rather not get in the middle of the tug-of-war those two had.

All that mattered to her was the comforting thought of knowing she had figured out the answers to their sister’s dilemma way before anyone else did.

Because there was no other option, there was no other explanation.

Whoever was sitting at the breakfast table wasn’t her.

Whoever was talking with that snapping tone wasn’t her.

Whoever was walking, standing, laughing, glaring, growling, blinking, moving, breathing-

It wasn’t her. 

Unlike the rest of her siblings, Cassandra did remember habits that could go unnoticed by someone without her type of training. It was ingrained deep into her head to take notice of those small, involuntary movements that people tended to make when their emotions took hold of them. And she remembered them very well.

Like Dick’s hand going through his hair when he is uncomfortable. Or Tim’s nose scrunches when he becomes too deep into his thoughts. Or Damian’s cheeks puffing up when he misses his targets during training.

(Y/N)’s habits were a pretty long list, compared to theirs.

In the mornings, she would have a mug filled with tea in the mornings, and she would always stir it clockwise while muttering to herself, taking slow sips. It was always a brew that smelled of honey, ginger, and a bit of cinnamon.

Now, she only chugs down juices in the mornings. Her mug, untouched on the shelf.

No more quiet good mornings. Not even a glance spared.

Her posture was a mess. Shoulders inwards and head inclined forward to avoid direct visual contact unless she was addressed. Half-lidded eyes, looking uncomfortably strange on her due to their shape. Hair like curtains, hiding her side profiles. And a clear strain on her neck from keeping her face down for long periods of time.

And now? She keeps her chin up, her back either slouching or straight, showing off a height that Cassandra wasn’t aware she had. Her eyes, now open wide and so expressive that it's impossible not to see every single bit of emotion going through her face. And the hair no longer gave a cover. It remained pinned away by headbands, ponytails, and if it was loose, it still stayed off her face. 

Why is she not looking at me? She always looks at me! I’m here, please. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m hERE. IM HERE IM HEREIMHERE-

Then there’s the fidgeting. 

Before, there were a couple of times that Cass noticed her fingers moving across a surface. Whether it was a wall or a table, she would gently trace some small figures with the tip of her fingers. Shapes and forms that were impossible to figure out by how odd they seemed from Cass’s point of view.

But that was also replaced by the constant tapping of nails, shuffling of feet, and tongue clicking that just became louder and louder with each moment she stayed in the same spot.

Why is it so loud? Why is it quiet now? Why is it both? She doesn’t like it. She wants her back. She wants the old back. Where is she? Where is shE? WHERE THE HELL IS SHE-

Cassandra could go on and on about all the changes she has noticed. And sure, people changed. It was a natural thing. Especially in the teenage years, as many sources have stated many times. Experimenting with new styles and looks was just part of growing up.

But this wasn’t some teenage whim of wanting to try new clothes and hairstyles.

This wasn’t some kind of rebellion phase.

People change, but not to the point where they change like this.

No structure, no system, could just switch to the complete opposite in the blink of an eye. 

Not this quickly.

Not without some logical explanation.

That’s why the Alter was the obvious explanation. It made perfect sense, and she had plenty of information and evidence to back herself up. She was in the right, and she could prove it! All she needed was for Damian and Tim to stop acting like dogs chasing their tails, and she would get the floor all to herself. 

They would finally listen! 

They would see what she sees, and then, she would be the one to help her. Because she needs her help. Cassandra was the only one to notice what was truly wrong, and her sweet sister will be so relieved that it was her. 

Her, the one who took a step forward and claimed that something was wrong.

Her, who finally extended her hand after years of rejecting her sweet sister’s comfort and compassion.

Her, the only person who saw right through her sister's pain and cries for help. 

…So why did everything have to go right down the fucking drain now?

“We didn’t do it, Alfred! I swear!”

The older man, red in the face, swiped his arm back to gesture around the room. 

“Then, explain to me how this happened?!”

It was an appropriate reaction, to be clear. No matter how harsh and loud Alfred sounded. Very few things could get this level of anger out of him, if barely anything at all. He was always poised, calm, and composed, even under pressure.

But the current state of their sister’s bedroom seemed to be the last straw for him.

In the middle of the room, surrounded by the wrecked furniture and broken windows, stood a blabbering Tim, who tried to explain to Alfred what had happened to the whole place.

Cassandra remained by the doorframe, her arms crossed tightly over her torso. Barbara, who was right beside her in the hallway, glanced at her every few seconds before looking back inside the room and switching her stare between the other two and a very quiet Damian.

The younger boy hadn’t moved an inch since Barbara and Alfred had made their way to the bedroom after hearing the kids' screams and shouts all the way down from the kitchen area. When they reached the room, the two of them came face to face with this mess, with those three standing right in the middle and clinging to each other with wide eyes.

On his spot by the shattered stained glass window, Damian’s stare remained between the splintered wooden floor before him and the mason jar filled with some oddly colored salt that was readjusted in his hold every couple of seconds as it continued to slip between his sweaty hands.

The only untouched part of the room was the salt-marked circle. Just where Tim and Alfred stood, the polished wood was intact beneath their feet.

The bed frame, twisted all around and split right down the middle, was all the way down to the opposite side of the room. Its mattress was torn and sprouting the springs between the gapped lines that resembled claw marks.

The bookshelf and the desk were no longer in one piece, but scattered into small and large parts all around the room. Some of the splinters even made their way into Damian's hair and clothes, and he was sure that so was the case for Tim and Cass.

Books and pieces of torn paper made it impossible to walk around without stumbling or tripping over the already messed-up floor. There were even parts of torn clothes that had fallen out of the knocked-over wardrobe.

But what made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up were the awful, jagged claw marks engraved on the walls and the ceiling.

“Damian.”

The boy blinked harshly, snapping his neck towards Barbara with a sharp inhale and his shoulders up to his ears. 

Barbara adjusted her glasses calmly, focusing on Damian only. Then, she gestured at the jar in his hands. “Where did you get that?”

He could feel everyone looking directly at him. Tim and Cass’s stares were much intense, their expressions giving away a specific shared thought as if it were a gaudy neon billboard on display.

‘Don’t. Say. It.’

Feeling a stubborn strike of protest spring over his chest, Damian steeled his gaze and tightened his grip on the jar. 

He had been the one to come up with the possession idea. They tried to discard it, saying it was improbable and stupid. Just humoring him when he contacted Constantine. Believing they would find nothing when they followed the magician's orders.

“Well,” He croaked, scratching his stubble. “I’ll need more than just some random personality change to call it a possession. And I ain’t going anywhere near Bat’s territory to just confirm an off chance without his permission. For now, use black salt and spread it around the room where they spend most of their time. Like the bedroom. 

You could throw it at them and see how they react, but I’m sure you’ll just get smacked either way.”

And spread the salt they did. Now they had an angry butler and a destroyed bedroom.

But at least Damian got it right! So there was absolutely no problem in telling the truth to Alfred and Barbara. The proof was right before them, and Cass and Tim were still trying to keep him quiet.

‘Yeah, like hell he will.’

Seeing how Damian’s eyes glinted with defiance, Tim and Cass didn’t wait to scatter towards him as he started to open his mouth and-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The notification sound of a comm interrupted them, making everyone pause and search for the source of it. When it beeped again, it was clear that it came from the hallway.

Barbara didn’t waste a second to grab her comm, switching it on for everyone to hear.

“Oracle: report your location.” A breathless voice commanded through the small device.

It was Dick. And he didn’t sound fine.

“I’m at the nest,” Barbara answered. “Everyone is here and listening. Report?”

“Put on the news channel. Now. And head to the cave. I’ll send my coordinates.”

That made everyone frown, but they still made their way out of the room at a quick pace. 

With Cass leading the way, Tim was already tapping on his phone, with the others following after him without another word. It only took a couple of seconds to hear the news reporter’s voice filter through and echo within the walls of the hall as they reached the music room.

“We are not aware if this could be some kind of terrorist threat or another one of Gotham’s infamous rogues, but for now, remain at home until we have gathered more information-”

Somewhere, deep in their guts, a curling sensation began to form as the words started to settle in. But no one dared to verbalize or even think about it.

Because acknowledging dread wouldn’t be of any help.

It never did.

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“-as far as we know, there’s been a total of two attacks on the city. 

The first one happened at 10:45 in the morning at the Gotham Train station near the Knight’s Dome Sporting Complex. With around fifteen people hurt by the explosion, several witnesses claim that two unidentified male individuals led the attack. 

There have been several reports of the attackers threatening the civilians and taking one hostage with them before retiring from the scene. The police haven’t disclosed any further details about the situation, nor any type of identification about the hostage.

Not long after, at 11:12, the Gotham Light and Power building reported an explosion coming from the electricity generators. This started a fire where multiple employees got severely burned and injured. The current count of victims of this attack at this moment is over 50 people, including 25 in a critical state. 

This explosion has affected the main powerlines for vital sectors around the city, including the Gotham Central Hospital and places like the Bowery, Park Row, and sections around the North side of Gotham. It hasn’t been disclosed whether there were any attackers on the scene, but the police suspect that these two events are connected in some way.

As a precautionary measure, according to the Gotham Police Department, avoid any areas or places without electricity. If you are significantly affected by the power outages, please move to the designated areas according to your sector, which will be announced after this report. The Gotham Hospital is still in operation and will remain open during this crisis, but please refrain from going unless it is an emergency.

This is Gotham News. Please stay tuned for more updates.”

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Someone is holding her.

She can feel their fingers, making mindless patterns on her back and soothing away the wrinkles of her shirt. They felt long and dainty, but still strong enough to keep her pinned against their shoulder and chest. 

‘More perfect than I imagined’

The words were hummed in an old melody, like a sleeping lullaby sung beside a wooden crib. They sounded off at first, the pronunciation and accent hard to understand until her head just pieced them together and formed the lyrics of the song.

‘Our house is now a home, our house is now a nest’

The smell of vanilla and cinnamon had her sink further into the person’s embrace, trying to be as close as she could to the comforting feeling they brought. Her hands gripped long strands of hair, still careful enough not to pull them harshly. One of the hands at her back moved up to her head and stayed there, their fingertips caressing her scalp.

‘No matter where you go’

The woman’s voice became watery. Her chin trembled against her temple, her arms tightening around her as Maximoff slowly blinked her eyes open. Fighting the drowsiness that had been keeping her in a malleable state.

The first thing she sees is reddish brown hair around her fingers.

‘Sunlight shines upon you.’

Wanda sobbed the last part of the song, burying her face against the girl’s shoulder as her tears fell and stained her clothes. 

‘Why is she crying?’ Maximoff thought, eyes half lidded with sleep and feeling her body heavy on her mother’s arms. 

Without thinking too much about it, she tried patting her Mom’s back and made something similar to a shushing sound. But her arms refused to loosen their grip on Wanda’s hair. 

She couldn’t help but notice a cold pressure around her wrists, despite nothing being there.

“Mom,” She slurred. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

Her words evidently caused the wrong effect, only helping to make Wanda’s arms tighten around her. A sound of complaint threatened to slip past her lips, but Maximoff simply let her mother hold her.

How long has it been since she had her mother’s arms around her like this?

“I’m sorry,” Her mom urged, chest heaving and fingers shaking. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

‘What is she saying? What does she mean?’

Wanda, while pressing her lips against her temple, whispered in an urgent tone. “I need you to listen to me, alright? We don’t have much time left-”

Maximoff felt her wrists growing colder and colder. An uncomfortable sensation was forming from the base of her spine up to the crown of her head. The whine that escaped from her dry lips was hushed quickly by Wanda, whose hands moved to grip the sides of her daughter’s face.

Her field of vision is filled with a sorrowful brown.

“I can’t do much from here, so you must listen. I need you to listen!”

Her mother’s voice rumbled between her ears. A sharp pain formed behind her eyeballs, and her mouth felt full of cotton.

Something was wrong. Everything felt wrong.

“1859, “ Wanda remarked, as the warmth around them plummeted to a freezing temperature. “Take cover underground.”

“Mom,” she croaked, skin breaking into goosebumps. “Mom, why is it so cold-”

“Wanda Maximoff, this is against our deal.”

A potent, deep voice howled around them. It made their blood curl and stomachs turn heavy. 

‘That voice,’ Maximoff thought. ‘I know that voice.’

Wanda’s head snapped to look backwards, eyebrows twisted, and eyes flashing in anger and despair. “Just let me help her! She doesn’t know who she’s facing, please, let me-”

“This dream is over.”

Maximoff couldn’t help the scream that ripped out of her throat as everything turned black around her.

“-make her shut up!” “I’m fucking trying!”

It was hard to hear the voices talking around her over her own screaming. The sudden assault of a bright white light shining over her eyes didn’t help at all with her panic, nor did the smell of chemicals and something similar to burnt sugar against her nostrils.

“Mom! Mom!” She yelled, chest moving up and down as she tried to get her arms and legs to move. Anything to get her away from the cold metal that cut through her wrists and ankles.

‘Where am I?! What happened?! What is going on?!’

A bile threatened to spill out of her throat, choking her screaming, and making her cough harshly while her eyes teared up.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the pain or out of pure fear and panic.

Rough hands grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back and slamming it against a hard surface that she was pinned against. Something between a whine and a choked cry left her lips when her skull made impact with it, finally letting the tears spill out of her eyes.

For a moment, she was relieved by the tears, as they helped her see what was finally happening around her.

But that relief was gone by the sight that greeted her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the surgical lights attached to the metal ceiling, all bright and pointed at her face and body. They were completely different from the pictures that she had seen in the medical books she had found in the manor’s library. The light was too bright, targeting spots over her body, leaving a frigid sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Her arms were exposed, wrists cuffed to the metal slab she was lying on, along with her ankles. The notable absence of her shoes and jacket made her feel exposed, made her want to cover up and hide. But what made her truly sick with fear and her chest shudder was the marks on her torso.

The shirt she was wearing, a yellow top with navy blue short sleeves and a printed number eight of the same color on the front, was cut right down the middle. The cut reached her chest, leaving the bottom band of her black sports bra exposed. Tracing dashed lines made by a black marker went up between her ribcage and down to her belly button. There was another line going down her left side, a little below her last rib and just above her hip.

Pre-operative markings. That’s what her mind whispered.

She recalled a few books that she had taken on whim back at the manor. Just during the first days after her trip to the mall with Warren and Bobby. It was meant to kill some time, but she got sucked into the rather quickly once her curiosity got the best of her.

Patient Safety and Quality: An Evidence-Based Handbook for Nurses. 

Chapter 36: Wrong-Site Surgery: A Preventable Medical Error

Marking the operative site: 

Make the mark at or near the incision site. Do not mark any nonoperative site unless necessary for some other aspect of care. 

The mark must be positioned to be visible after the patient is prepped and draped. 

Marking must take place with the patient involved, awake, and aware, if possible. 

A defined procedure must be in place for patients who refuse site marking. 

Her mind was probably glossing over several important aspects, but those were the sentences that screamed at her (This is wrong. It’s all wrong. This isn’t right. She didn’t want this. Stop it, stop it, stop it stop IT STOP IT STOPITSTOPIT-) as the men wearing surgical scrubs moved around the table while talking between themselves.

“How is it awake?!” One of them yelled, standing by her feet with what seemed to be some kind of drone floating behind him. The face mask did little to hide the panic in his voice and eyes. “This didn’t happen with the others! We even upped the doses!”

Another one, who was by the monitors while holding a tablet, stared impassively at the marks made on her skin. “We can’t dissect with the subject moving around. It could mess up the kidney and cause issues with the monitor placement. Is the inhibitor working?”

The man gripping her head tightened his hold, noticing how she started to become more aware and jittery. “The inhibitor collar is active. There’s no way the mutation can work-”

“Unless the collar doesn’t repress the mutation. At least, not how we want it.”

The new voice made the blood inside her veins freeze and her skin crawl. It came from the floating drone, her eyes set on a blinking red dot where she supposed this person was watching through. 

The words were drawn out, taking his time with pronouncing each syllable. His tone disguises the unsettling and cold undertone with a veil of smoothness. Too clinical. Too unattached. 

It was all wrong.

“Speedster anatomy is an unsearched territory.” He divulged, the drone floating up to the head of the table. “Their bodies must constantly negotiate with the forces that should tear them apart. Micro-fractures that heal in seconds. Tendons that should snap, yet stretch like tempered wire.”

His words felt as if they had already opened her up on the table.

It was not a good feeling.

This man (does he count as a man? He certainly doesn’t sound like one. Not even human. As if he lacked any type of emotion other than morbid curiosity… or something far darker-), whoever it was, knew what she was. Everyone in this room knew.

How many people knew already? She thought Jason was the only one who knew without her saying it. 

Did he… sell her out? No, that doesn’t seem right. He had been caught off guard by the explosion as well, from what she last remembered-

Fuck. The explosion.

Laura.

She had almost squished the little girl underneath her body when she felt the heat of the explosion near them. She had even pulled the front of Jason’s shirt to pull him down, mostly out of pure instinct.

But she faltered. She didn’t react fast enough.

She wasn’t fast enough.

And now, she had been taken to be dissected by some madman who had some kind of messed-up plans for her. And all because she wasn’t fast enough.

Not fast enough. 

Not aware enough.

Not careful enough.

Not trustworthy enough.

Not enough. 

“-musculature is compacted kinetic potential, their nerves thrumming like violin strings pulled impossibly tight. To understand how such a body survives its own velocity,” He lets the sentence hang, savoring the anticipation.“I must see it in motion.”

Oh, she did not like the sound of that.

The drone came up closer, down to stand right on her face. The camera lens focused completely on her. “Perhaps keeping her awake will prove to be an advantage. Every bodily reaction must be studied to deepen the research.”

“Like hell you are-” She snarled, getting cut off by another harsh pull at her hair.

“Hmm,” The drone hummed. “Education often comes with discomfort. Take this as your first lesson, Miss Wayne.”

It backed away. Taking place just above the surgical lights, hovering at the right angle to see everything going on around the table. 

The other three men moved with precision around the compacted room. The one keeping her head in place brought out some straps made of leather from beneath the table, hooking them on the small metal hooks on the corners and putting them over her body. One over her forehead, to which she received another hair pull from moving too much, and others over her shoulders, arms, thighs, and calves.

The other two brought out a metal box, emitting a clattering sound as it moved. The serious-looking one (the one who wasn’t screaming like a maniac-), put on tight blue rubber gloves and took out a scalpel from the box. He approached the table, standing right in front of the side line tracing of her torso.

Maximoff’s body trembled, making the table shake as her diaphragm filled up with air. Stomach filling and sinking inwards rapidly, feeling short of breath despite it all. Her eyes stung, and her mouth was dry.

This terror taking hold of her veins wasn’t like any other.

Coming in contact with the cold rubber material of the globe made her flinch physically and out loud. Heavy fingers digging against her skin, stretching it to have easy access to the trace line right in the middle of her stomach.

“Initiating incision,” Said the man, standing as still as possible. “Hold her down.”

The other two scientists took hold of her shoulders and legs, an uncomfortable dig against her bones. A wet sob ripped out of her throat.

“No. No, stop-” 

Her voice was but a small whimper, easily lost over the beeping of the monitor around the table.

“Begin the operation.”

As the scalpel was raised, Maximoff began to twist and scream in protest. The men pressed her against the table, one of them even going as far as to shove his forearm against her neck. Pushing up and up until she choked, fighting for breath and shuffling her wrists against her chains out of pure reflex. The collar pressed against her, leaving a painful dent in between the bones of her neck.

And just as her eyes started to roll back and the cold blade hovered over her stomach, a loud alarm blared around the room.

The man holding her legs let go of her, jumping and turning to look behind him while gripping the table. “What is that?!”

Maximoff took a wheezing breath, coughing as the pressure against her neck was gone. The scientist had let go of her, taking some steps away from the table and towards the monitors, pressing a couple of buttons. A new voice muffled through, the words too unclear for her ringing ears.

“Containment, what is going on out there?” He commanded, but received no answer. Just a buzzing sound in return. “Containment, report! What is going on? Why was the alarm activated?”

No one answered. 

The anxious man at the end of the table began to hyperventilate, moving a hand through his hair and throwing away his blue headcap. Pacing from side to side while looking between the metal doors and the rest of the room.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” He cried. “Taking all of those freaks out at the same time was gonna blow in our faces! We should have gotten rid of them first-”

“Quit whining, Harrison!” Snarled out the guy at the monitor. “The collars have detonators in their systems. If one of them reaches the room-”

“They have reached their purpose.” The drone interrupted. “Alive or dead, I am done with them. All I need is the speedster. Marlon?”

The serious man straightened up at being called, scalpel still at hand. “Yes, sir?”

“Use the spinal fluid to keep her docile. Bag her and come to base. Leave no traces.” With that, the drone shut down and fell to the ground with a slam.

Marlon, without any shred of hesitation, put down the scalpel and snapped his fingers at the Harrison. “Guard the doors, make sure nobody enters. Richardson,” He looked at the other man. “Prepare the transportation bag. I’ll make the injection.”

Richardson grumbled lowly, pushing away the monitor while crouching down to take out the black bag that was folded under the table. “Pretentious ass. Always telling me what to do-”

Maximoff, still wheezing, growled out when the Marlon guy twisted her head to the side, exposing the back of her neck. She was starting to become more annoyed than afraid with the rough handling these assholes had been doing.

“Hold still,” He threatened. “Or I’ll pierce one of your nerves and-”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence due to the sudden mix of screams and sounds around the room.

First, he had left his thumb too close to the girl’s mouth. She didn’t think twice to open it up wide, letting it lose its grip and close it around the finger hard. Teeth bare and biting through the glove and pricking the skin. She pressed up her jaw harder when he started to scream, refusing to let go.

Then, Harrison joined in the screaming, but for a completely different reason. 

Because up in the ceiling, two sharp blades had pierced through. They moved with such precision, creating a perfect circle and disappearing once again when it was done. With harsh force, leaving a dent right in the middle of the circle, the cut-off surface was kicked down. 

And falling right on the head of Richardson with a cracking sound coming from his neck. His blood was pooling on the floor, staining his clothes.

There was a moment of silence in the room, just as a small figure jumped right through the made-up entrance. Standing right on top of the scientist's body.

It was just a little girl. With wild hair and metal claws sprouting out of her knuckles. And green fabric wrapped around her little fist.

Maximoff’s jaw released the hand out of shock, letting the man take it as far away from her while stepping far away from the table. The syringe filled with a strange yellowish liquid was left lying around somewhere on the floor, having slipped from his hand at some point.

“Laura…” She breathed, voice rough and pained. The little girl turned to look at her, eyes wide and lips turned into a snarl. 

From the corner of her eye, Laura noticed the terrified man sprawled on the floor. Trying to scatter away with his blood-stained shoes towards a small cylindrical device that was lying on the floor. She instantly jumped on the table, feet barely missing Maximoff’s torso, and growled at the man until he froze on the spot.

That’s when the doors slammed open. One of them opened up way too fast and hard, hitting Harrison on the head. Making him fall completely to the ground, unconscious.

Two people entered the room, holding up rifles and pointing them at the remaining scientist. One of them was a boy with medium-long hair and tanned skin, glaring at the man with fury as he entered the place with precaution. The other was a girl with jet black hair and asian features. She moved closer to the table and put down the weapon, crouching down to the metal cuffs.

“One move. Just one,” The guy said, tone low and dark. “And I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes.”

Laura didn’t wait to cut off the leather straps with a swipe of her claws, climbing down off the table and standing right by Maximoff’s head with a worried look. The other girl, with sparks sprinkling out of her fingertips, focused on the metal restraints. Melting them quickly without hesitation.

“Holy shit.” That was all Maximoff could say. “You are-”

“That’s a given around here,” The girl said, freeing Maximoff’s right hand. “Try not to move too much, I’m not that good with my-”

“Oi, c’mon you guys, shift it! We haven’t got much time!”

This new voice came from the ceiling, shouting with a thick accent and a head full of blonde hair popping upside down from the hole Laura made. He looked around for a couple of seconds, a dopey grin on his face that made Maximoff huff a laugh in disbelief. 

What the actual fuck was going on?

“Don’t pressure me, Johnny!” The girl yelled, moving to the other side of the table with a quick step. “I’m almost done, so quit your-”

“Yeah, yeah!” He interrumpte, waving her off and then addressing the other guy who was now shoving the rifle right in Marlon’s jaw. “Hey, Lance, be honest! Can I blow up the truck with those bastards in it? Still cranky they took my lighter, mate. Had it tricked out an’ everything!”

Lance didn’t even look away from his target, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisting. “We can’t draw more attention to ourselves. There are cops everywhere.”

The black haired girl let out a triumphant noise, the last cuff falling off, and finally letting Maximoff sit carefully on the table with a groan. Her limbs throbbed with pain, the skin of her wrists chaffed and raw from all the commotion. She flinched when a hand was put against her back, but relaxed when coming face to face with the new girl’s concerned expression.

That’s when her brain clicked everything into place.

“Jubilation Lee,” She whispered. “You’re one-”

The girl laughed, helping her support her back and move off the table. “I prefer Jubilee, actually. But we can do introductions later!”

“Not on my fucking watch.”

Harrison, now with a bloody bruise on the side of his head, held up a small control in his hand while hanging onto a wall. A deranged look on his face, with his thumb just on top of a red button.

Everyone froze in their spots.

The man let out a small laugh, his hand trembling, and making them all flinch. “You are all familiar with this, right?”

All the pressure that Maximoff had felt minutes ago around her neck by the hands of the scientist fell short of the sudden heaviness of the collar around her neck.

‘The collars have detonators in their systems. If one of them reaches the room-’

“You have seen what it does!” He needled. “Do you want to give your new friend a show?!”

At one moment, Maximoff was sure her clothes were free of stains other than her own tears and spit.

At the other, splatters of hot red liquid stained not only her clothes, but her face and body. She didn’t even know when her eyes shut closed, her arms wrapped around Jubilee’s, both holding onto one another and shaking.

There wasn’t any grotesque sound of a head exploding or anything like that. Just something hitting the ground with a wet smack and awful scream that made her skin crawl.

With a fearful shake, Maximoff lifted her head from Jubilee’s neck and looked down at the ground.

A clean cut-off arm, with the control wrapped around the hand, lying there on the ground. Spasming and jerking with blood streaming out onto the floor, letting the control fall, and staining it.

Harrison wailed without reprieve, sliding down the wall while holding his severed wound. Kicking his feet back to get as far as possible from the person who had caused this horror.

Laura’s claws dripped with blood as she stood in front of the girls, snarling at the man and cracking her neck with a roll of her shoulders. She stood like that for a few seconds before picking up the control and turning towards the rest of the group.

“Let’s go.” She ordered, and they didn’t hesitate to listen.

John, trying not to gag as Jubilee climbed up the table. “That looks downright foul, mate.”

Lance just shook his head, wiping back the rifle quickly to hit Marlon in the face. Making the man stumble down with a painful groan and lie still on the floor.

John grabbed Jubliee’s hands, pulling her up through the hole and helping her climb on. Then, it was Maximoff’s turn, with Laura climbing right beside her on the table. The older girl motioned her to go first, but Laura simply pushed her thighs up with a strength that she was not prepared for, and made her grab onto John and Jubilee’s offered hands.

They pulled her up carefully, trying not to jostle her too much until she was out of the hole.

It was pouring like she had never seen before.

Unlike her first thoughts of where these madmen had taken her, she was not in some kind of secret laboratory or abandoned warehouse. Instead, she had been inside a huge trailer that was attached to a black semi-truck. The vehicle was parked in what she recognized as the Gotham Harbor, judging by the stench of fish and the number of wagons piled around the whole place. 

She was immediately soaked by the rain, letting Jubilee take hold of her arm and guide her carefully over the roof. There were plenty of marks and holes around, her curiosity gaining the best of her and regretting the moment she looked down and saw plenty of bodies lying around inside in pools of blood and missing limbs.

‘Laura did this?’ Was her halting thought. ‘All by herself?’

“Over here!” 

Someone else had yelled from the ground. When they reached the edge, another girl with brown hair and freckles over her nose waved up at them, with a bald and pale-looking man standing beside her. 

Unlike the rest of the kids, this man was not wearing a lab rat tunic. He wore old, worn clothes, dreadfully patched on the knees and elbows, and weirdly colored. With rubber boots stained with mud.

What stood out most were his yellow eyes and lack of eyebrows.

Several stomps were heard behind them, indicating that everyone was finally out. Lance was covering them from the back, still keeping his weapon upright and making sure nobody was following them. John had taken the front, the control now in his hands, while Laura attached herself to Maximoff’s side.

“How do we get down?!” Jubilee yelled over the wind.

The pale man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Wait until he gets back! It won’t take long!”

Lance looked over his shoulder, pressing his back against Maximoff. “We don’t have time! There’s still someone alive, and he could pop out any second!”

Maximoff and John looked at him in disbelief, yelling at the same time. “You didn’t shoot him?!”

The other boy glared at them. “Do I look like I know how to fire a fucking rifle?!”

“Could have fooled me!” Maximoff groaned, the cold water pelting over her head and making her shiver. Laura just pressed herself closer to her, to which the older girl responded by wrapping an arm around her shoulder to keep her close.

For someone who had literally annihilated several people without a flinch, she sure looked afraid right now.

John, furiously fidgeting with the control, growled out an incomprehensible sentence before wiping his hair out of his eyes and shaking the device. “Ya useless piece of junk! It won’t bloody work!”

“Stop doing that!” Jubilee shrieked. “You want our heads to blow up?!”

“I’m tryin’, alright?! Just need the damn code combo so we can dump these blasted things!” He blurted. “They’ve got trackers on ’em. We can’t leg it ’til those damn things are offline!”

Maximoff’s mind halted at that moment.

Code. 

There’s a code for the collars.

“How many numbers?” She sputtered, making them turn their heads towards her. She panted, blinking away the drops of rain falling over her eyes. “Is it four numbers?”

John’s face brightened up, a grin splitting on his lips. “Yeah! It is! I tried a bunch of combos, but none of ’em worked! Yet!”

‘Mom said some numbers.’ Her hands grabbed the control out of John’s hands, getting a squeal of protest and arms gripping her waist tightly.

“Okay, okay,” Maximoff muttered. “It was 1 and then 8. And 5-”

BANG!

Everyone screamed, grabbing onto each other at the sound of a gun going off over them. Laura hid her face against Maximoff’s stomach, with Jubilee and John covering her sides and holding onto her shoulders while she turned half of her body to look back. 

Lance stood in front of all of them, like a protective guardian, with his weapon pointed at the new threat.

With a handgun directed at the group, Marlon glared at them with pure vicious disdain and hate. There wasn’t a simple sign of shaking on his hand, as if his nerves were of pure steel. Not even bothered by the rain pouring over him.

Maximoff had never seen such a look before.

So much anger. 

So much hate. And for what?

“I have had enough of you.” He bellowed. “Of all of you!”

Marlon clicked his gun, making the kids flinch and take a step back. John had almost slipped off the edge if Laura and Maximoff hadn’t been gripping his robe, pressing him closer to them while Jubilee trembled against Maximoff’s arm. They could also see Lance’s shoulders shake.

They had no escape. Jumping off was not a choice, not without breaking their necks. And Marlon had them cornered.

There was no way out.

“Once I’m done with each one of you,” He swore, taking slow, heavy steps towards them. “I’ll make sure that there will be nothing left. Not a single trace of your bodies!”

“Lance,” Jubilee stuttered. “I think you need to use that thing now-”

“I can’t!” He hissed, gripping the handle. “We’re right on the edge and just the smallest shake will send us-”

BANG! BANG!

“Listen to me when I’m talking!” He screamed. Gun in the air and jaw trembling. “You disgusting, useless muties-”

But the group wasn’t even listening to the man. 

Not even sparing him a glance or stare.

How could they do so when there was a giant taking leaps over the wagons and about to jump right on the trailer they were standing on?

The group had already taken cover of the landing by throwing themselves to the floor, hoping that holding on to each other was enough to prevent them from slipping off and falling. They gritted their teeth when the metal beneath the groaned and shook, feeling it caving in on the other side by the weight of the giant.

Maximoff couldn’t help to look up.

Before her, a being over seven feet tall and covered in green scales stood right behind Marlon’s crumbled form. 

It looked more crocodile than human, or maybe it was vice versa? She wasn’t sure. With jagged and sharp rows of teeth protruding from his mouth and a long tail that circled Marlon, the being let out a guttural growl that made the trailer tremble all around.

“Go on.” He ribbed on, voice like a rumble coming from deep in his chest. “Repeat those words to me instead… Doctor.”

Marlon didn’t say anything. Maybe he was unable to say anything. After all, he had gone pale at the sight of teeth bigger than the palm of his hands. Shaking on the floor, without his gun at hand.

“We gotta move,” Lance instructed quietly, slowly standing up and helping John get up as well. “Shit’s going to get nasty.”

“What?” Maximoff questioned, still unstable on her feet and basically using Laura and Jubilee as crutches. “He just-”

A disgusting crunch of bone and meat chilled her and everyone around to the bone. It was a mistake on their part to look back at the source of the noise, accompanied by a sense of gratefulness for their empty stomachs. Because the sight before them was just straight out of a horror film.

The rain had done most of the job to clean off the blood, but the guts and limbs were still there. Well, most of the limbs. Like the legs and the arms, though one of them was shorter than the other. His torso had the form of the creature’s mouth (is it a snout? God, this was confusing-), leaving exposed the lower part of his spine and the entrails spilling out. 

The crocodile man was still chewing, the crushing sounds revolting the kids' stomachs. Trails of blood and guts hung off his teeth, quickly gone with a swipe of his long tongue that was accompanied by a loud blech.

John and Maximoff made a gagging sound, both of them losing color in their faces.

“Ew,” Laura said with her nose scrunching.

Jubilee sighed deeply, turning to look down at the two mutants who were waiting for them. “He is here! We’ll be down in a sec, Kitty!”

John sat on the edge, taking deep breaths while Lance patted his shoulder in comfort. “Don’t think I’ll be eatin’ again anytime soon, mate.”

The heavy steps had snapped Maximoff out of her head. Her eyes stayed on the tall, scaled man, staring at him with wariness as he approached them. Unlike moments ago, he didn’t look hostile or with ill intentions. Instead, he seemed to crouch his shoulders and keep his neck down towards them. Like trying to appear smaller.

Trying to look unthreatening.

“Y’all kids alright?” Even with his voice toned down, it still made the ground tremble. “Ain’t none of ya hurt, yeah?”

They all shook their heads, feeling somewhat relieved over escaping that situation despite the rather gruesome outcome. 

It had been a horrible thing to see, but they got out of it alive. These people were going to do so much worse to them that all they could feel was just a small shred of sympathy for their end. It was a them-versus-us situation, and they got the short end of the stick.

‘Am I wrong for being relieved they are gone?’ Was the shared thought amongst them.

Maximoff didn’t know how to feel about that thought. Things happened way too quickly, even for her, to process.

For now, getting as far away from this place was all she wanted.

The crocodile man (did he have a name? He probably did. She needed to figure that out-) crouched down in all fours, exposing his back and nodding at them to get on. 

“Climb on up an’ hold tight. We gettin’ down.”

John didn’t think twice to get on the front, hanging onto the neck with Jubilee behind him. They were followed by Laura and Maximoff, both older girls, making sure the little one was tucked safely between them. Lance hopped on last, being careful to jostle all of them.

As they began to make their way down, Maximoff whispered to Lance with a frown on her face. “Where exactly are we going?”

The boy shrugged, keeping his grip on the scales without much effort. As if he had done this before. “Probably to Jones’ nest. It’s the only safe place I can think of right now.”

That only confused her even more. “Nest? And where the hell is that?”

“Down in the sewers,” Lance added with a snort. “Hope you can handle the smell, rich brat.”

Maximoff rolled her eyes at that.

“Do you guys reckon we can swing by BatBurger?! I’m absolutely starvin’!”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t eat again?"

“Changed me mind! I’m keen for the BatBurger combo with extra greasy fries, no questions!”

This group really promised a fun trip.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Jason had seen Dick get angry several times.

Not everyone addressed it or recognized it, since the oh so golden boy had so many qualities over flaws that things like his anger issues were just easy to ignore or simply pretend they weren’t there.

But Jason knew better than anyone that just as bright and good as Dick was, his anger burned just like a fire caused by kerosene.

He knew, from the moment that he had found a way to bond with his little sister, that Dick would flip over and whine about not being the center of attention. At least not to her, since Jason would make sure that the only person she could relate to was himself.

Jason would become her center of attention.

The same way she had become his.

He would be there when the family became too much. He would be there when everyone around her continued to fail her. He would be there when she had no one to turn to, and she would just rely on him.

Discovering her mutant gene had been like getting all he had aspired for on a silver platter. Another reason why she wouldn’t fit in with Bruce’s perfect little mold. 

Be his perfect, quiet daughter with no reason to argue back.

It was a nerve. 

An exposed vein that he could cut and leave to bleed until he could patch it up. Heal it under his own protection and care. Inject it with his views and thoughts until everything, until any type of compassion and sympathy left for their old man was just gone and replaced with his anger and hate.

It was never in his plans to reveal the mutant gene to Bruce. If everything went according to his plan, she would do it all by herself. Probably in a whim or by accident, right in the middle of an argument with Bruce. Blurt it out, and leave without another word. No other place to go, nowhere to feel safe, no place to call home.

That’s when she would run to him. To the only person who could handle and understand the ugly side of her anger.

Then, she didn’t.

The secret was out. There was no way that Bruce wouldn’t have pieced it together with how she had run out of Leslie’s clinic, leaving behind the whole place a mess by the small whirlwind she had caused. Dick was panicked enough to have Bruce sit him down while he went out to find her.

All that Jason had to do was wait for her. He even had her room made, a right down copy of the one she had at the manor, at his favorite safehouse. Located right in the Bowery, where she would be able to see the real side of Gotham. The disgusting sight that had been ignored for so long, but she needed to see it. 

Be exposed to it so she could understand his ways. 

So she could become like him.

But she didn’t come.

Instead, she had fled to the train station. Of all the places she could think of!

It bothered him. Hadn’t he been clear enough that she could turn to him? Reach out to him? What was missing? Why couldn’t she see he was right there?!

“How could you?!”

It wasn’t hard to find her. His tracker was a sturdy thing. It would take even more than a hammer to the phone to get it to stop working.

“Do you know what you fucking did?!”

Jason had never taken her as the type of person to talk with little kids. Damian was the only one she had been around, and the brat was hell to get along with. But from what he had seen, she held a soft spot for them. 

The way that she was at the girl’s level. The tone she had used with her, way too gentle for this new version of her. All he had heard were hissing words and curses, but it had been like a switch with this stranger.

It stirred something in him. Something putrid and hollow.

“Where is she, Jason?! Where did they take her?!”

He hated it. 

He wanted to snatch her away from those small, sticky hands and drag her off to their new home, without anyone interfering in their way.

But then, that damned explosion had knocked him out. He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he woke up, she was gone. Not a single trace of her, but that green jacket that she had taken a shine to lately.

And it was grasped in between that brat’s grimy hands.

It was a pain to get up from the ground, especially with Gordon trying to move him away from the crime scene and get him checked out by a nearby paramedic. But even with his head ringing and a blurred vision, Jason was still stronger than the man, and it was no trouble shoving him off of him.

What Jason didn’t expect when he reached out to grab the jacket was the demonic kid to snarl up at him and enter into the weirdest tug of war he had ever experienced.

That’s how he ended up here, in his old warehouse by Crime Alley, with Dick shoving him against the wall and screaming on his face.

And a piece of torn green fabric twisted in his fist.

Gordon didn’t waste a second to contact Bruce when Jason had clearly lost his fight with the little girl, who had slipped away from the cops trying to grab her, jumping down the hole made by the terrorists without a second doubt and disappearing from their sight.

Jason had almost jumped right after her, but he decided to make smart choices.

He knew his sister still had her phone, so it would just take a quick trip to his base to find her location on his computer. At a greater scale, too, so he could be prepared to blow up the whole place they had taken her once the rescue was over.

But then Dick had to go and make his anger issues Jason’s problem.

“She was right there with you!” He shouted, with his fists curled on Jason’s shirt. “She was right there, and you just let them take her?!”

Jason shoved him off of him, snarling up into Dick’s face. “Don’t you dare! You got no right-”

“No right to what, huh?” Dick pushed him, face twisted in fury. “To be mad?! To be angry at you?! You are the one without any right to argue because. You. Failed!”

Jason’s eyes flashed, fists and jaw tight. Dick only let out a loud, sarcastic laugh at that.

“You angry now, Jay?! That’s all it takes to make you angry?! Reminding you of how hard you just failed-”

“Enough. Both of you.”

The two of them were panting, chests heaving with short breaths. Their eyes never straying away from each other, glaring with disdain and anger. Not even Bruce’s shuffling in the background, just by Jason’s computer, stopped them from looking away.

The screen of the computer started to play some camera footage of the train station, moments before the explosion. Bruce forwarded the video, taking a couple of seconds until it reached the perfect frame he was looking for.

One of the attackers’ faces was fully exposed, while the other carried his daughter (so limp. she looked so limp and still, and it did something to his chest-) over their shoulder.

He could recognize the boy’s face. It had been printed on his whiteboard for months now.

John Allerdyce. One of the missing kids in his case.

“Jason,” Bruce breathed.

Neither Jason nor Dick liked that tone. Bruce rarely spoke like that in situations like this.

It was all wrong.

The older man slowly turned to look at them, setting his eyes on Jason. Both of them flinched and gulped at the dark look in Bruce’s eyes.

Cold. Way too cold.

Even for him.

“You are going to tell me everything you know. Right now.”

Jason wished that Gordon had never called the old man. Now he was in deep shit with no way out.

This is what he gets for playing the long game.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Ma’am, please stay away from the tape.”

There were cops everywhere. The train station perimeter was blocked off by yellow tape and guards that managed to keep onlooking civilians from crossing over to the crime scene that was still under investigation.

You could even see the news reporters trying to get something out of the nervous-looking guards, their camera flashes and shouted questions over the murmurs of the crowd, putting every single person more on edge as they tried to get a look or an answer about what had happened just several hours ago.

“Are there more people down there? Are there any deaths confirmed on the scene?”

“How about a culprit? Any suspects? Perhaps one of the rogues?”

“There was a breakout in Arkham last week. Is there a possibility this could be connected to the recent bombing?”

“Is it a new villain? There have been rumors going around of several bodies-”

“Ain’t this a fucking circus?” He grumbled.

Logan stood by a streetlight, far away from the crowd. Blending in with a few scattered civilians who watched the whole thing from a safe distance. Muttering to themselves or to the nearest person to their side.

It was still too much attention to Logan’s taste.

He wasn’t one to stay around for damage control duties when it came to missions. Not even when he was part of Weapon X or the army, he only had one set of goals in mind, and that was putting his claws to use and being done with whoever crossed his path or dared to challenge him.

There was once a time he stayed behind to help. But he would rather keep those memories blocked in the darkest side of his mind.

Nowadays, all that mattered to Logan was the well-being of his team and the safety of his students. 

No need to look behind when they were all that mattered.

But right now, he was going to suck it up and fight the inner urge of walking over there and destroying every single camera and microphone in his sight. All the frustrations he had been holding back from the beginning of the week were cracking at his knuckles. The sharp metal under his skin was almost begging to come out at the slightest chance of his flaring temper.

It didn’t help that he had a specific annoyance using his nerve as a jumping rope.

A dark skinned and delicate hand wrapped itself around his arm. Nails scraping against the dark brown leather of his jacket while tracing tauting shapes over it. Their body pressed against his side, wiping their white hair so it wouldn’t block their face as they looked up at Logan with a saccharine smile.

“Don’t be such a grump, honey.” She soothed. “It’ll only bring more wrinkles to your oh so charming face.”

It even sounded like Ororo, but the tone was simply wrong for Logan’s ears. The way she stood, walked, and even her faint accent were on point, but Logan knew better.

Nobody smelled like his Ororo. And Mystique could act her heart out if she wanted, but she would never fool Logan.

He shoved her off of him with a growl, taking a step to the side and crossing his arms with a snarl. “Keep those hands off, or I’ll rip them out of your body myself.”

“Watch that temper, old man.” She taunted, a grin spreading over her face. “That’s not how you are supposed to treat your wife.”

“I ain’t playing your games. Change your face.” He hissed. Giving a quick look around for anyone looking at them. Hearing a now masculine groan, Logan stared back at her.

The obvious red sunglasses made him roll his eyes hard. There was no winning with this woman.

Now wearing Scott’s appearance, she walked a couple of steps forward and looked at the crowd with her arms crossed. Eyebrows frowning and jaw steeling.

She hated to admit it, but Logan was right. The whole thing looked like a circus.

Even amongst all the chaos, Raven could recognize several news channel logos from the cameras and the brands on the mics the reporters kept shoving on the guards' faces. Most of them were from Gotham, but some were obviously from out of town.

That was odd. 

Usually, Gotham kept their media for itself. Especially when it was related to attacks like this, since their dear Dark Knight didn’t like getting attention and help from the outside unless it was necessary. Maybe it was something to do with their pride or whatever, but Raven knew that when it came to situations like this, the coverage of the media would remain within the reach of the city for a couple of days until it leaked to other cities' media.

So it was fucking odd to see someone from The Daily Planet, The Daily Bugle, or The Central City Citizen doing coverage in Gotham at just hours from an attack that there was very little information about at the moment.

Someone, maybe whoever was behind this, wanted eyes on them.

They had been looking for it for a while, actually. If her theories were connected and proved right.

Erik had pretty much confirmed her thoughts on them after all.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“Sixteen, you say?”

Lehnsherr’s voice sounded rougher on the speakers of her burner phone. The old thing had gone through quite the ordeal, but it was sturdy. And she only used it to contact Erik, so she wasn’t very stingy with it.

Sitting on her old-fashioned desk (well, not hers. It belonged to the principal of the academy, who had taken a long vacation in the meantime. A real vacation… she stopped doing that a long time ago-), Raven flipped through the academic records that belonged to the very interesting student who had been causing plenty of trouble for everyone around.

(Y/N) Wayne had gathered the attention of quite a crowd.

According to her school records, she had great grades. Exemplary, to be exact. Little to no sick days in the past. A constant participant in the academy’s recital, and had plenty of college scouts with their eyes on her, ready to snatch her up to their programs the moment she graduated from school.

Her behavior record, however, was strange to say the least.

There were several notes from teachers and professors attached to her file. Most of them, concerned about her safety and health. Some went into heavy detail about how certain classmates had been bothering her or were borderline hostile. Others simply mentioned that it would be best to bring this type of behavior to her parent and start an intervention.

Raven never did things halfway, and this was basically taunting her to dig deeper. 

And what she found was less than pleasing.

She had already formed an opinion of Mr. Wayne way before the recital, and there wasn’t a specific word that could describe how much the man annoyed her to no end. And with that little scene he and his family did at the recital, Bruce Wayne had gone up on her list of people to avoid at all costs possible.

It didn’t help the fact that he had such little involvement in helping his own daughter-

‘Doesn’t it sound familiar?’ A sharp voice needled behind her ear. ‘A parent abandoning a child while pretending everything is alright. Too close to home, Raven? Too similar? Can’t stand to see the same actions you committed-’

“What about these changes you mentioned?” Erik’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, clearing her throat as she pulled two more files close to Wayne’s.

“In these two and a half weeks, I have found several things that could be linked to the girl.” She stated. “About close to a month ago, she didn’t go to school for a week. The school’s office contacted the family, but all that was said was that she had been in an accident and needed to rest for the time being.”

“What type of accident?”

“There wasn’t a specification.” She added. “But I took the time to visit the police station and found a report with her name on it. All it said was that she had hit her head and almost drowned in an abandoned public school. No suspects mentioned on the report.”

Erik hummed softly. “And your own report?”

Raven chuckled. He knew her way too well. “Five guys. All from the senior grade. They were known for harassing her and spreading rumors around campus. All of them from well-off families, one of them belonging to a family of reporters. The mother is in charge of what goes in the gossip column of The Gazette. But, curiously, the boys haven’t been seen around the school since the accident.”

“Very curious.” He murmured. “Anything on that part?”

“Just a police report. It hasn’t been put to the public despite how long it has been, but I’m sure the families had a hand in that. Their bodies were found in a nearby sewer by the police station. Headless and without limbs.”

“Damn, that sounds borderline psychotic.”

“Just borderline, Pietro?” She quipped, rolling her eyes at the chewing sounds coming through the phone. “Aren’t you supposed to spend some family quality time with your newest member?”

He laughed at the sarcastic tone. “Yeah, I am! And so is old Peepaw over here, but you have stolen him away to speak about, um, what exactly? Murder?”

“How about reporting on your niece’s new body and all the trouble she is dragging along with her?”

The line went silent for a few moments. A shuddering breath, that she suspected came from both of them, had her straighten up in her chair.

“... So we are completely sure, then? There’s no what-ifs or doubts, right?”

It was painful to hear the so confident and larger-than-life man sound so fragile and small through the phone line. It unsettled her to hear him like this, and pained her even more to kill his hopes.

At least for this moment.

“Not yet,” She clarified. “I have been in communication with McCoy, and he has a way to confirm that she is who you’re looking for. All I need is a small-”

 ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“The fuck are you doing, Logan-” Raven hissed, almost forgetting to use Summer’s voice.

The burly man had passed by her, a heavy frown on his face, and his nose flaring as he sniffed around. Several people looked put off by his behavior, but simply ignored him to continue staring at the train station.

Raven walked towards him, muttering low enough for him to hear. “You’re drawing attention, you oaf! Stop sniffing like a fucking dog and-”

“Shut it,” He growled out. “I’m catching something.”

“Yes, you are. The people’s attention span-”

“Laura.” He uttered. His head snapped back towards a back alley, quickly entering the dark hall with his shoulders hunched and fists up. “And one of the kids. And many others.

‘This is not a good sign,’ The shapeshifter thought, not hesitating to follow Logan’s steps.

They were deep enough into the alley when Raven finally saw where Logan’s scent trail was leading him. He was crouching down, right in front of a huge manhole that emanated a disgusting smell. She covered her mouth and nose when Logan opened it up with one of his claws, the sound of water running down at the bottom making her hair stand.

“I’m not going in there.” She exhorted, taking several steps back.

Logan looked over his shoulder, a grin on his face. “Then don’t. You can do your own thing up here while I look for my kids.”

“More than pleased to do so.” She assured, crossing her arms with a huff. “Just try not to interact with the Bat. I’m sure this is the type of trouble that drags him out.”

“No promises,” He ribbed. “I even got my good suit on in case he shows up. Y’know, just in case.”

With that, he jumped down the hole. A sneer formed on Raven’s face when a splashing sound echoed up to the surface.

Men. 

Such disgusting creatures.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

There was no other place she could think of wandering to.

Where else could she go? Where does one go when the place you just started to call home walks away?

“I need to breathe. Alone.”

There weren’t many places Wayne could go, not without Maximoff. 

With her, everything seemed bright once again. All those moments when she felt genuinely happy, all those years back when it was only her mom, her uncle, and her. Back before her father, with his dark clouds and even darker shadows, wrapped themselves around her and squeezed out all the colors and small, happy things in her life.

She had never belonged in the shadows. And it took dying for her to realize it.

But she had been dead long before her body died.

She had killed herself, her own true self, bit by bit. All for trying to fit into a puzzle that she was never part of from the beginning. Cutting of pieces that made her unique and special.

Her appearance. Her laugh. Her way of being. The way she saw the world.

All of that, torn to pieces and flushed down a drain, and for what?

All for nothing.

And here she is, where it all started. Back to the place where her life ended, but a new birth as well.

There was no longer black water inside the pool, just the green mold marks on the walls that indicated where it had been. Mostly washed off by the pouring rain that stopped a while ago.

She wasn’t sure how much time she had spent there, but she hadn’t moved from her spot. Kneeling by the edge of the pool, staring at her blurred reflection on the water. 

She hated what she saw. What she had turned herself into.

Because, even in death, even after all they had put her through, there was still a part inside of her that felt a semblance of protection towards them. 

Somehow, she wasn’t able to get rid of her sentimental part, against all odds.

“I’m such an idiot…’ She choked out, watching as black tears fell down her cheeks. Hitting the now clear water without leaving a trace behind.

Her hands came up to wipe away her tears, but stopped the moment a tutting sound came over her. 

Lifting her head, she came face to face with a lady wearing purple robes, floating over her head with a mournful expression on her face and a hand over her chest.

It wasn’t her first time seeing another ghost since she became one, but it was the first one that had looked as solid as her own form. Others were either too transparent or remained attached to one place, mindlessly repeating the same words and sentences over and over again. Some even relived through their last moments.

But something about this ghost lady was… off.

“Now,” The woman cooed. “Why is a child like you crying all by herself?”

The girl shook her head, downcasing her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

The other ghost gasped, floating over to her side and mocking a kneeling position. “Why of course is not nothing! No girl should be all alone while crying over her reflection!”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” She hesitated, biting her lip while her fingers traced over the water. “I failed someone. Someone I care about a lot… and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Hmm, a tough situation to be through, yes,” The lady sighed, side-eyeing the water. “How exactly have you failed this person? I’m sure just talking about it can fix things!”

“Not exactly. I hid things from her. Important things. Because I still care about… other people.”

The woman huffed harshly at that, “Well, kid, that sounds like you need some kind of… retroinspection.”

Wayne frowned at that, looking at the woman with a frown. She wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but there was definitely something the other ghost was trying to imply on the side.

“What do you mean?”

“Ya know!” She drawled, poking her side with her elbow while standing up. “Thinking of the past! Think about your choices, what kind of effect they had, and why! Things like that!”

Wayne scoffed, an annoyed streak coming from her chest at the vague words. “How is that going to help?”

The woman’s face split into a giant grin while she stood behind her, hands hovering over her shoulders and leaning her torso forward until she floated in the air.

“Why don’t we find out?”

With a hard shove and a scream, Wayne fell into the pool. A loud cackle, accompanied by a splash, rumbled through the place.

Agatha laughed to herself as she lowered her body through the water.

These kids really needed to learn not to trust strangers.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's note: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG GUYS!! I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO BECOME A WHOLE MONTH!!! So many things happened (from horrible migraines and college horror stories-) but ITS FINALLY HERE!!! So, for now, this is what I got until the semester is over. I'm working hard for two theater productions and I reallly want to put all of my energy on that. BUT!! I really hope I can squeeze another chapter this month so fingers crossed!! Other than that, I have missed all of you and your comments and support, I really hope you guys like this so awaited chapter and that you guys are ready for Wayne and Agatha's adventure next chapter (LORE DROP YAYYYYY)

(Sorry for the format!! Tumblr was not working in my favor!!)

Sending you all so much love and hugs,

GG✨💖

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