Raven lay limp and motionless in my arms, her head resting against my chest, her dark hair spilling across my forearm.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The phantom press of her lips still burned against mine, a lingering heat that felt completely foreign given her usual ice-cold reserved demeanor. But it wasn't just the kiss that had my mind spinning out of control, it was the sheer terror in her violet eyes before they fluttered shut, and the broken, trembling whisper that had slipped past her lips.
"It can't be. You wouldn't."
What the hell had she seen in that psychic void? What had I done in whatever twisted prophecy her mind had pulled from the ether?
"What was that, Caius?" Donna asked, stepping forward through the churned snow, her silver lasso still humming faintly with divine radiance. Her dark eyes were wide, darting between Raven's pale, slack face and my own stunned expression. "Did she... did she just kiss you?"
"I don't know," I muttered, my voice coming out rough and thick. I adjusted my grip on Raven, pulling her closer against my chest to shield her from the biting Arctic wind howling across the tarmac. "She muttered something right before she passed out. Her mind... something hit her in there. A vision maybe? And a bad one."
Before Donna could press further, the air above the snowy runway violently warped.
Beams of brilliant cyan light fractured the gloom in rapid, concussive bursts. The signature spatial distortion of Global Defense Agency teleportation flared across the tarmac, dropping heavily armored tactical troopers in squads of four. Within seconds, the runway was swarming with GDA operatives, their assault rifles raised, night-vision optics glowing emerald green in the dim mountain light.
Then, at the center of the largest displacement flash, the heavy hitters materialized.
Cecil Stedman stepped forward, his beige trench coat snapping in the sub-zero draft, his weathered face set in a scowl. flanking him were the premier heroes of the GDA roster: Darkwing, his black cowl and cape blending into the shadows; Black Samson, his massive arms crossed over his chest; Green Ghost, hovering an inch off the slush, her emerald light casting an eerie glow over the snow; War Woman, gripping her battle mace with knuckles like iron; the Immortal, floating with his arms rigid at his sides, his eyes cold and ancient; and Mark, clad in his gray-and-green Guardian armor, his face covered in the reflective helmet.
Cecil didn't waste a single second. He immediately began barking orders into his collar comm, his gravelly voice cutting cleanly over the roar of idling jet engines and the wind.
"Alright, listen up! I want this entire complex locked down tighter than a drum! Nobody leaves this mountain, air, ground, or sub-level! First priority: search and rescue. Get every single child out of that underground slaughterhouse and straight to medical transport. Immortal, Samson, sweep the lower holding pens. Guardian, Darkwing, you're with me."
Cecil turned sharply on his heel, his single good eye locking onto me with the force of a guided missile.
"Superior," Cecil growled, stomping across the frozen runway until he stood barely five feet away. "What the holy hell is going on here? Do you have any earthly idea how many international treaties, sovereign borders, and League mandates you and your little strike team just obliterated in the last two hours?"
I didn't answer right away. I looked down at Raven, then turned to Donna.
"Take her to the jet over there," I said quietly, carefully transferring Raven into Donna's arms. "Get Alfred to run a full diagnostic on her vitals, and find Omen. If Rachel is locked in her own head, Lilith might be the only one who can navigate the psychic backlash."
Donna took Raven gently, cradling the girl against her shoulder. She looked at me, genuine concern etched into her striking Amazonian features. "Are you going to be okay dealing with them?"
"He's not alone. We've got his back," Nightwing said, stepping up to flank my right side, his escrima sticks locked away on his back, his posture loose but ready for a fight.
Superboy dropped down heavily on my left, his arms crossed over his black-and-red 'S' shield, his jaw set like granite. Wally flashed into position beside Conner, a half-eaten energy bar in his hand, his eyes dead serious behind his red cowl.
I gave Donna a faint nod. "I'm good. Give Aqualad a call on the secure channel, tell him we might need Queen Mera's help. If Raven's soul-self took magical damage from whatever Blud did, Atlantean sorcery might be our best bet."
"On it," Donna said. With a sharp kick of her boots, she launched into the sky, rocketing toward Bruce's jet.
Once she was clear, I turned back to face the Director of the GDA.
Cecil stood with his hands jammed deep into his coat pockets, his breath pluming in the freezing air. "Well, son? You want to explain why the League launched an unsanctioned, full-scale military operation on foreign sovereign soil? Against a globally recognized, blue-blood institution where the children of prime ministers, corporate titans, and ambassadors are enrolled? You just turned an elite Swiss boarding school into a war zone."
"First of all," I said, my voice dropping an octave, cold and level, "I'm not your son, Cecil. But since I respect the work you do keeping the planet in one piece, I'll let that slide."
Cecil's jaw twitched, but he didn't interrupt.
"Secondly," I continued, taking a step toward him, "if the GDA didn't try to control, categorize, and hoard every piece of actionable intelligence on Earth, the League and the Titans would have shared this operation with you weeks ago. But considering the nature of the target, we didn't have time to wait for your bureaucracy. You've had the Amazo black box for a month. Let me guess, you were busy building a neat, pristine file, waiting to go through the 'proper diplomatic channels' so you could make a legal, sanitized raid six months from now?"
"Of course I was, kid!" Cecil snapped, his temper flaring. "The H.I.V.E. Academy holds massive geopolitical weight! They have backing in the UN, in the European Union, in Washington! And there were children in there! You don't just kick down the front door of a global elite compound without a strategy to manage the fallout!"
"You should see what they were doing to those children in there, Cecil," I said, the venom in my voice making several GDA troopers subtly tighten their grip on their rifles. "Rape. Systematic psychological torture. Meta-gene extraction. Human trafficking on an industrial scale. They were turning kids into brainwashed weapons and high-end sex slaves for the global one percent. And the whole damn thing was being run as a blood-harvesting farm for the Church of Blood."
Cecil froze. The angry color in his cheeks drained, leaving him looking older, grayer, and profoundly tired. "Jesus Christ..." he breathed, his hand coming out of his pocket to rub his forehead. "I... our surveillance picked up trafficking patterns, but we didn't know it was that depraved."
"There's more," I said, crossing my arms. "It's not just Blud and his cultists. There are shadowy organizations working alongside them, facilitating the logistics and letting this hellhole thrive in broad daylight. Have you ever heard of 'The Light'?"
At the mention of the name, I caught a microscopic reaction, Darkwing's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching toward his utility belt before settling.
So he knows something. Or at least, he's heard whispers in the dark.
Cecil sighed heavily, staring at the snow between his boots. "I've heard rumors. Nothing concrete. Damian Darkblood and Jason Blood keep me plugged into the mystical underbelly of the world, and they've hinted that something ancient and organized is moving behind the curtain. But nobody's been able to pin a name to a face."
"Well, start digging," I said bluntly. "Because a lot of powerful, psychotic people are coordinating to carve up this planet. And the main reason I jumped on this mission tonight was because they had Raven. I take it you know who she is? Why she was born?"
Cecil's gaze hardened again. "Yeah. We've had eyes on Rachel Roth since or Psychics predicted her birth. When you and the Titans took her in, we stood down because we knew she was in good hands. Darkblood made it abundantly clear what happens if that girl breaks. She's the daughter of an extradimensional conqueror. If she loses control, it won't just be an invasion, it'll be the devil himself walking the Earth."
"Then you understand why I'm not waiting on a court order," I said, turning slightly and gesturing toward the crumpled, shriveled figure lying in the snow a few yards away.
Sebastian Blud looked pathetic. His once-imposing, muscular frame had withered into a gray, emaciated husk, his skin sagging, his chest barely rising as the HIV-tainted blood of Mia Dearden steadily tore his immune system apart from the inside out. His ability to absorb blood quickly backfired on him this time hard.
"I have to deliver that piece of garbage to the gods," I said flatly. "If you want to scream at someone about broken laws, talk to Batman. He's inside, and he loves dealing with your bureaucratic bullshit."
"Superior, be realistic," Cecil said, his voice rising again in warning. "The United Nations is going to convene an emergency security hearing by morning. They're going to demand answers, and they're going to demand custody of the perpetrators."
"Tell them to go check the VIP suites inside," I replied coldly. "A lot of their own ambassadors and donors are in there right now."
Suddenly, the pool of pitch-black shadow cast by Darkwing's cape rippled. A figure stepped out of the darkness as if emerging from deep water, a man clad in an all-black stealth suit, his hood drawn, his voice muffled behind a ballistic mask.
"He's telling the truth, Director," the shadow operative said quietly. "The lower sublevel is a slaughterhouse. Multiple VIP patrons are dead or missing limbs, but among the survivors in our holding pens, we've identified three European senators, an American prime ministers, two corporate CEOs, and members of several royal dynasties."
Cecil looked like he wanted to vomit. "Son of a bitch..."
"Regardless," Cecil said, recovering his steel and pointing a finger at Blud. "You can't take Sebastian Blud off this site, Superior. He's an Earth-born terrorist and a high-profile criminal. He has to answer for his crimes in a human court."
The moment the words left his mouth, the temperature around me plummeted, and my tactile telekinesis flared involuntarily. The invisible kinetic field expanded, radiating outward in waves of suffocating, predatory pressure of gold with tinges of red.
War Woman stepped forward instantly, placing herself between Cecil and me. She raised her heavy battle mace, her golden bracelets gleaming under the runway floodlights, her posture locked in an ancient, seasoned combat stance.
"Step back, Cecil," War Woman commanded, her eyes never leaving mine. "This young man is radiating a powerful bloodlust." She tilted her head, studying me through narrow, calculating eyes. "Tell me, Superior... Do you have a connection to Olympus? Your power feels familiar."
"I carry some of their blood," I said, keeping my voice utterly devoid of emotion. "Nothing more. And I'm taking Blud. You can have every guard, every scientist, and every corrupt politician in that fortress. But the Headmistress is gone, and she was an alien."
Cecil rubbed his temples, a fresh wave of agony washing over his face. "Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed tonight, more aliens hiding among us. Do you at least know what species she was?"
I raised an eyebrow under my cowl. "What, because my father came from outer space, I'm supposed to be an encyclopedia for every extraterrestrial in the cosmos?"
"No, smartass," Cecil snapped back. "It's because you work with the Justice League and the Titans! You people have an entire orbital database dedicated to cataloging off-world threats. The GDA focuses on protecting Earth from Earth-based threats!"
I sighed, shaking my head. "She escaped through a Boom Tube. That means New Gods. Probably Apokolips."
Cecil went completely rigid. "Apokolips... God damn it. What are Darkseid's people are on Earth."
"I don't know, and right now, I don't care," I said, stepping past War Woman toward Blud. "I have bigger problems to deal with. And for the record, Cecil, I wasn't asking for your permission to take him. I was telling you what's happening. So unless you're planning on letting Guardian off his leash to stop me, I'm leaving."
Mark stepped forward, his Guardian face-plate retracting to reveal his face. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, his blue eyes pleading. "Chill, Caius. Come on, man. We're all on the same side here."
I stopped and glared at him. "We're in the field, asshole, use code names. Don't think a month training together changes anything. And shouldn't you be at my house right now, helping your mother and Oliver get settled in?"
Mark flinched slightly. "Cecil called me. An active threat involving the H.I.V.E. took priority."
"Well, just so we're clear," I said, my voice hardening, "we might wear the same colors sometimes, but we don't want the same things. I want the monsters in that hellhole made into a public, terrifying example. I want every billionaire, every politician, and every sick bastard on this planet to know that their money and their influence will not save them when their time comes. And something tells me that if real justice is going to get done, I'm going to have to do it myself."
Mark's eyes narrowed, a flash of genuine anger surfacing. "What is that supposed to mean, Caius?"
"Whoa, let's bring it down, everyone," Nightwing intervened smoothly, stepping between Mark and me with his hands raised. "Let's remember why we came here. We came for the children. We came to shut down a global trafficking ring. Let's focus on finishing the job."
"Nightwing is right," a steady, voice called out.
We all turned to see Batman walking out from the cavernous breach in the mountain, his cape sweeping behind him like wings of midnight. Beside him walked Bumblebee, holding a glowing cryptographic storage drive in her hand.
"Here," Karen said, tossing the drive to Cecil, who caught it out of the air. "That's a complete, uncompressed mirror of Blud's mainframe. It contains every client name, banking transaction, transaction ledger, and decades' worth of blackmail material he held over world leaders."
Cecil looked down at the drive, nodding slowly. "Thank you, Bumblebee."
Darkwing stepped up, taking the drive from Cecil's hand to plug it into his wrist console. "I'll begin the decryption protocols immediately."
Darkwing then looked over at the Dark Knight. "Batman."
"Darkwing," Batman replied, giving a subtle nod of professional respect. "Good work containing the perimeter."
"Thanks again for your assistance with The Shade when he tore through Midnight City," Darkwing said, offering a gloved hand, which Batman shook firmly.
"Any time," Batman replied. "And thank you for the chemical analysis on the new street narcotic derived from Crane's fear toxins. Your research allowed us to synthesize an antidote before it hit Gotham's streets."
Cecil cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the vigilante camaraderie. "Listen, Batman. I appreciate the files. Truly. But I still need Sebastian Blud in GDA custody, and I'm going to need the Justice League to stand before a closed session of the UN Security Council to answer for tonight."
Batman's white lenses remained fixed on Cecil. "As far as Blud is concerned, Director, I'm afraid you're out of luck."
Cecil's brow furrowed. "Why? Because the 'gods' demanded his punishment?"
"I can't speak for the gods," Batman said calmly.
"Then why can't I have him?!" Cecil demanded.
Bumblebee smirked, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at the patch of snow behind War Woman. "Because he and Superior are already gone."
Cecil spun around.
The patch of snow where Caius had been standing, and where Blud had been lying, was completely empty. Only two sets of boot prints marked the slush, ending abruptly in mid-air.
"When the hell did that happen?!" Cecil roared in frustration. He turned back on Batman, throwing his hands up in the air. "I swear to God, I have hated that disappearing act of yours for twenty years, and now you're teaching it to the damn kids?!"
Nightwing turned his head slightly to hide a smirk, while Conner folded his arms, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He's getting a lot better at bending light with his tactile field, Conner thought. Didn't even make a sound.
High above the icy expanse of the North Sea, the wind roared past my ears as I tore through the upper atmosphere at Mach 3.
I had Blud clutched by the thick leather of his utility harness, dragging his limp, shivering body through the sub-zero clouds. Below us, the dark, churning waters of the Atlantic gave way to the distant coastlines of Europe.
BEEP-BEEP.
A secure frequency chimed inside my suits comms.
"This is Superior," I answered, keeping my voice steady against the rush of the slipstream.
"Hey, Cai. It's J. Where you at?" Jason's voice crackled through the channel, sounding relaxed and completely unbothered by the fact that he had just helped blow up an international black site.
"Flying south toward the Mediterranean," I replied. "Delivering this shriveled piece of garbage to my extended family. How did you and Red X make out?"
"Clean exit," Jason said, the sound of a roaring motorcycle engine audible in the background. "I ran into Bruce in the pit. He pretty much put two and two together about the Joker warehouse incident. Which means he definitely suspects you had a hand in it, too."
I snorted. Of course he does. The world's greatest detective wouldn't miss a detail like that. "Not surprising. I'll deal with Bruce when he comes knocking on my door. Thanks for the heads-up."
"No sweat," Jason said. "Listen... me and X are parting ways after tonight. He says we're pulling too much heat from the GDA and the League, and he prefers working solo. I think I'm gonna find a hole to crawl into for a bit, lay low, and figure out my next move."
I flew silently for a moment, watching the moon reflect off the endless expanse of water below.
"You know what you should do, Jason?" I said. "You should form your own team. Your own Titans."
Jason let out a short, cynical bark of laughter over the comms. "Really? Me? Leading a bunch of spandex-wearing Boy Scouts? Why the hell would I do that?"
"Because Bruce will never admit it, but he failed you as a father and as a mentor," I said, my tone dead serious. "He gave you the skills to survive, but he never gave you the room to be who you needed to be. There are kids out there right now, Jason, abused, forgotten, abandoned by the system, falling through the cracks. Kids who are just like you were. You can guide them. You can be the middle ground between the Titans and the League of Assassins. You can hunt down the monsters that the Justice League is too scared to touch, and protect the kids who have no one else."
I took a breath, letting the words sink in. "I'll handle things in the light. I'll make sure the high-society abusers don't get to walk the streets with impunity anymore. And whatever scraps slip through my fingers... you can finish them off."
Over the line, there was a long pause, broken only by the steady rumble of his engine.
"Damn, Caius..." Jason murmured, a dark chuckle escaping him. "Now that actually sounds like something I could sink my teeth into. An outfit that doesn't play by Bruce's rules. I think I'll do that. And I think I'll use that name you offered a while ago. The Outlaws."
"It fits," I said with a smirk. "When you're ready to establish your base of operations, let me know. I'll wire you a startup fund from my personal accounts. Buy yourself an uncharted tropical island or build a hidden bunker where nobody can track you."
"I like the way you think, big guy," Jason said. "Tell you what, how about I meet you in Greece right now? Provide a little mortal backup against those divine relatives of yours?"
I chuckled. "What are you going to do, Jay? Point a nine-millimeter at Zeus?"
"Nah," Jason replied smoothly. "I picked up a pair of magic blades while I was training with the All-Caste over the past five years. They're called the All-Blades. Forged from pure soul-fire. They bypass mystical armor, divine invulnerability, and anything mystical you can name. If one of your godly uncles, or aunties gets out of line, I can carve them up just fine."
My eyebrows shot up. So this version of Jason has the All-Blades. That changes things significantly.
"Alright," I said. "Meet me on the southern cliffs near Mount Olympus. As strong as I've gotten, I still can't trade blows with the top-tier Olympians without risking serious damage. Having weapons that can bypass divine invulnerability will be a nice backup."
"Say less, bro. Give me two hours. I'm on a modified jet-bike."
"See you there."
Two Hours Later — Mount Olympus Foothills, Greece
The Mediterranean air was warm and heavy with the scent of wild thyme, sea salt, and ancient pine.
I stood on the edge of a jagged limestone cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea, holding the barely conscious Sebastian Blud by his collar. The moon hung high in a cloudless sky, casting silver light across the ancient ruins of a long-abandoned temple behind me.
A low, rumbling whine echoed up the mountain trail as a sleek, matte-black motorcycle with twin exhaust pipes tore around the switchback, kicking up dust and gravel before skidding to a halt beside me.
Jason killed the engine, kicked down the stand, and hopped off, adjusting his leather jacket and crimson helmet.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Jason said, his voice modulated through the helmet's speakers. "Had to dodge a couple of European air-defense radars on the way over. So... how do we get up there? Do we just start flying until we hit a magic forcefield?"
I shrugged, adjusting my grip on Blud. "Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure. I figured I'd have to find an active altar or channel a prayer or something into one of these ruins, but there's no guarantee the old gods would pick up the phone."
Jason tilted his head. "What, Wonder Woman or your mom never gave you the VIP pass?"
I shook my head. "Mom never talked about this side of the family. I only found out Ares was my biological grandfather about a month ago when he decided to punch me through a stone pillar on Paradise Island."
Jason let out a low whistle. "Wait. The literal God of War is your grandfather? Holy shit, Caius. That explains... so much about your temper."
I raised an eyebrow. "What temper? Last time I check your the guy that nearly beat multiple gangbangers to death."
Blud suddenly let out a ragged, gurgling groan at our feet, his pale eyelids fluttering as he tried to claw at the dirt.
Jason drew his heavy automatic pistol in a flash and cracked the reinforced steel frame across Blud's temple, instantly knocking the cultist senseless again.
"Shut the fuck up," Jason muttered, holstering the gun. "You're lucky they want you breathing, or I would've fed you your own teeth two hours ago."
Suddenly, the air pressure around us violently dropped.
The smell of sea salt and pine vanished, replaced instantly by the overwhelming scent of ozone, burning myrrh, and golden ambrosia. The night sky didn't just fade, it shattered, folding inward like a kaleidoscope of brilliant white and azure light.
Before either of us could react, the stony cliff beneath our boots dissolved, replaced by pristine, mirror-polished white marble veined with pure gold.
The transition was instant.
We were no longer on Earth. We stood at the edge of a colossal open-air colonnade that stretched toward a horizon of endless, radiant daylight. Towering pillars carved from alabaster reached into a sky the color of liquid sapphire, where fluffy, sunlit clouds drifted beneath massive, floating palaces constructed of gold, marble, and living ivy.
Jason slowly turned in a full circle, his crimson helmet gleaming under the divine sun. "Holy shit... Caius, this is..."
"Olympus," I breathed, taking in the sheer, overwhelming majesty of the divine realm.
"Welcome, nephew," a smooth, commanding voice echoed from the colonnade archway.
I turned around sharply.
Standing on the raised marble dais was a woman who radiated authority. She was tall, easily six feet, with a lean, exceptionally athletic build that spoke of countless hours spent on the battlefield. Her sun-kissed, olive skin was flawless, her sharp, stunning features framed by long, flowing dark-blonde hair that cascaded over a polished bronze cuirass. But it was her eyes that pinned me in place: piercing, storm-gray, and filled with an intellect so vast and terrifying that it felt like she was cataloging every thought in my head in microseconds.
Jason leaned toward me slightly. "You know her?"
"No," I said, my voice quiet as the realization clicked. "Aunt Athena?"
A faint, amused smile curved Athena's lips. "Well. It seems you possess wisdom to match your strength. Are you quite certain you are Ares's descendant, Caius? You seem far too perceptive to share his blood."
"Come now, sister! The boy has barely crossed the threshold, can we not save the family insults until he's had a chance to partake of the wine?"
A second figure stepped out from the sunlit garden beyond the colonnade.
The man was impossibly handsome. He possessed a tall, muscular frame that radiated radiant warmth, his olive skin glowing as if lit from within by the sun itself. His hair was a brilliant, shimmering blonde, perfectly coiffed, and his dazzling, razor-sharp smile carried a level of absolute perfection that immediately made me want to punch him right in his flawless jaw.
"I am your uncle, Apollo," the sun god declared, his voice carrying the melodious cadence of a golden lyre. "It is truly a pleasure to finally meet you, Caius. Though as much as I would love to stand here and admire our family resemblance..." Apollo glanced down at Blud with an expression of profound disgust, delicately pinching his nose. "...that vile creature is dripping tainted mortal filth all over the marble, and Hephaestus's automatons just finished polishing the floor."
Apollo gestured toward a grand archway leading into an expansive, sun-drenched courtyard. "Come. Bring your mortal companion. Father is eager to pass judgment upon the blasphemer, and Uncle Hades has requested a private word with your friend."
Jason stiffened inside his armor. "Wait. What? Hades wants to talk to me? What the hell did I do?"
I grabbed Blud by the nape of his neck, dragging him across the marble behind the two deities. "Well, J... you did claw your way out of the grave. You're living on borrowed time, and you smell like a Lazarus Pit. The God of the Dead probably takes that kind of thing personally."
Jason lifted his armored gauntlet and sniffed his sleeve through his helmet. "Do I really stink?"
Athena glanced back over her shoulder, her gray eyes cool. "To mortal noses, no. But to those who govern the balance of life and death, the alchemical taint of Ra's al Ghul's pits clings to the soul like rotted sulfur. It is an offense against the natural order."
Jason muttered under his breath, "You think he's gonna try to drag me to the Underworld?"
"If Hades wanted you dead, Jason, Thanatos would have already harvested your soul the second your heart restarted," I said quietly. "He probably just wants to look at the man who cheated his gates. Keep your hands off your guns, stay respectful, and let's get this over with."
We followed Apollo and Athena through a towering colonnade of carved acanthus leaves, stepping into a vast, breathtaking amphitheater garden.
The air was alive with the hum of raw, unfathomable power. Sitting upon monumental stone thrones arranged in a wide semicircle were the rulers of the Greek pantheon. The sheer weight of their collective divine presence pressed down on the atmosphere like a physical ocean, making even my Viltrumite cells thrum with nervous energy.
Apollo stepped to the center of the court, spreading his arms wide with theatrical flair. "Lords and Ladies of Olympus! May I present our wayward kin, Caius Dawn, son of Jonathan of the stars and Samara, scion of War. And the blasphemer who dared violate the sacred mysteries of the blood."
My eyes swept across the gathered gods, taking in every face.
At the center sat Zeus, King of the Gods. He was massive and commanding, his hair pitch-black with streaks of storm-gray at the temples. His chest and shoulders were heavily muscled like a veteran warrior's, though he carried the slight, regal belly of an absolute monarch who had enjoyed millennia of lavish banquets. In his right hand, a master bolt of blue-white lightning crackled with terrifying, subdued energy.
Beside him sat Hera, radiant and terrifying in her regal majesty. She draped herself in peacock-blue silk, holding a magnificent fan of shimmering feathers, her cold, emerald eyes surveying me with aristocratic disdain.
Sitting to the left was Aphrodite, who caught my eye immediately. She wore a flowing rose-gold dress that seemed to shift between silk and liquid light, her eyes sparkling with the exact same sultry, dangerous amusement she had shown in my office in Gotham. She gave me a slow, knowing wink over the rim of a golden goblet.
Near the central hearth sat Hestia, radiating a soft, maternal warmth that made the entire garden feel safe, her eyes glowing like embers in a cozy fireplace. Nearby stood Nike, her golden wings folded neatly behind her armor, watching the proceedings with sharp, competitive intensity.
Lounging on a marble bench with his winged sandals propped up was Hermes, twirling his caduceus between his fingers like a baton, a mischievous grin plastered across his youthful face.
Across from him sat Hephaestus, a grizzled, powerfully built blacksmith whose face was scarred, his muscular arms covered in intricate runic tattoos, his left leg bound in heavy leather and bronze brace-work.
To the right of the throne sat Poseidon. He looked less like a traditional Greek statue and more like a colossal, ripped Polynesian warlord, his skin deeply bronzed, his chest bare and covered in flowing oceanic tattoos that ran down his entire left arm. His sea-green eyes were wild and tempestuous, matching the heavy golden trident resting across his knees.
Flanking them were Artemis, her silver bow resting against her throne, her silver eyes sharp and unyielding; Demeter, crowned with golden wheat, her expression solemn; and finally, sitting in a throne carved from obsidian and pale bone, was Hades. The Lord of the Dead was cloaked in robes of deep shadow, his skin ashen, his dark, bottomless eyes fixed unblinkingly on Jason.
Jason stood frozen beside me, his visor slowly panning across the pantheon.
"Wow..." Jason whispered through the comms channel. "I can definitely see where you get your looks from, Caius."
I raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a flat look. "Thanks... I think?"
Zeus leaned forward on his throne, his voice rumbling like distant thunder across the open skies of Olympus.
"Bring the creature forward," the King of the Gods commanded.
High Altitude — Mediterranean Airspace
Inside the luxurious cabin of a private Gulfstream jet cruising at forty thousand feet, the atmosphere was dead silent.
Lady Shiva sat near the window, her arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes fixed on the young girl sleeping peacefully in the reclining seat across from her. Cassandra Cain was wrapped in a cashmere blanket, with a I.V drip in her arm. Her breathing deep and rhythmic, the horrific trauma of the H.I.V.E. Red Room temporarily washed away by heavy sedatives.
At the central conference table, Talia al Ghul sat before an encrypted holographic terminal, her posture impeccably straight.
Sitting across from her, perfectly silent and watching every movement, were Damian and Athanasia.
The holographic emitter hummed to life, projecting the towering, green-tinted silhouette of Ra's al Ghul.
"Report, Talia," the Demon's Head spoke, his voice calm, ancient, and absolute.
"We have successfully secured Shiva's child, Father," Talia said smoothly. "And we have ensured that the Church of Blood's infrastructure within the Swiss Alps has been permanently dismantled. The facility is compromised, The League and GDA forces are currently processing the wreckage."
"And Sebastian Blud?" Ra's inquired, his holographic gaze narrowing.
"Caius Dawn intervened," Talia answered. "He subjected Blud to a biological contaminant, incapacitated him, and transported his body directly before the Gods of Olympus."
"I see," Ra's murmured, his hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. "My associates in the Light will be exceedingly eager to hear of this development. And tell me, Talia... Shiva... what is your assessment of the Dawn boy?"
"I did not have the pleasure of meeting him Father," Talia said. "Only the twins have."
Ra's shifted his attention, his holographic eyes locking onto the two children. "Damian. Athanasia. Your thoughts?"
Damian lifted his chin, his green eyes burning with pride. "He possesses undeniable physical prowess and high destructive capability, Grandfather. Whether his intellect and tactical discipline meet your expectations, however, remains to be seen."
Athanasia leaned forward slightly, her expression far more intense. "I am in agreement with Damian regarding his strength, Grandfather. But there is another variable you must consider. While he fought Blud, I felt a power sleeping deep within his body. It was primal. Divine. As his anger escalated, his bloodlust became almost uncontrollable. I dare say... he is exceptionally dangerous."
"A sleeping primal power, you say?" Ra's mused, a faint, cold smile touching his lips. "Fascinating. Thank you, children. Your observations are invaluable."
Ra's turned back to his daughter. "Talia. The time has come. The twins have reached the age where they require the tutelage of both lineages. You will take them to Gotham to meet their father."
Damian and Athanasia's eyes widened in profound shock.
"Grandfather—!" Damian began, rising from his seat.
Talia raised a single, sharp hand. Damian snapped his mouth shut instantly, though his fists clenched with barely contained frustration.
"It will be done, Father," Talia said respectfully. "We will arrive in Gotham within twenty-four hours."
"Good," Ra's continued. "You will rendezvous with me and an associate of mine at Mr. Dawn's residence. It is time we laid our cards upon the table if we intend to bring Caius into our grand design."
Lady Shiva turned her head toward the projection, her eyes narrowing. "An associate, My Lord?"
"Yes," Ra's replied smoothly. "A man who understands the boy's heritage far better than we do. Furthermore, Shiva... it is my decree that you leave your daughter in Gotham as well. The Detective possesses the unique temperament and moral framework required to rehabilitate broken children. She will learn to be human under his roof."
Shiva's jaw tightened slightly, though she bowed her head. "I agree that the Detective can heal her spirit, My Lord. My only concern is that her lethal talents will dull under his pacifist philosophy."
"Nonsense, Shiva," Talia countered, a smirk playing on her lips. "With Richard Grayson and his Titans operating that little group of teens with attitude, Cassandra will be exposed to metahuman combat daily. Her martial skills will only evolve. And when the time comes for her to return to the League of Assassins... the shadows will welcome a far deadlier weapon."
Ra's nodded in agreement. "Shiva, while the child settles, I have a vital assignment for you. Slade Wilson and Bane have allied themselves with King Snake. They are attempting to replicate David Cain's conditioning program, breeding a new cadre of silent female assassins, and warriors to replace what was lost. You will track them down and eradicate the project."
"By your command, Demon's Head," Shiva said, rising and bowing low.
The holographic projection flickered and died, leaving the private cabin in ambient silence once more.
Across the table, Damian and Athanasia sat side by side, their gazes locking in silent, turbulent contemplation.
For their entire lives, their father had been a myth, a dark, legendary phantom of justice whispered about in the ancient halls of Nanda Parbat. And now, within twenty-four hours, they would stand face-to-face with the Batman.