When a mission with the Young Justice Team goes wrong, Dick Grayson finds himself possessed by a bloodthirsty demon with no control over his body as the demon rampages through the country, leaving a trail of death and destruction in its wake. Can Ba...
"I'm sure you'll do great, Dick." Tim reassured, earning an annoyed look from Bruce.
"There are still things to go over. Training is important."
Damian sighed. "Father, it's okay. Grayson is right. He knows the computers fine. It's just a matter of getting used to working with us in the field again, and that can only be tested when we actually go on patrol."
"I would not have taken this many children in if I knew that they were going to all gang up on me." Bruce grumbled, shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine. We'll test it tonight on patrol."
"Good. Thankyou." Dick agreed, tone still slightly exasperated. "Now if you would all just leave, that'd be great. I want to actually look stuff over without you all looking over my shoulder."
With muttered protests and complaints, his family slowly and reluctantly made their ways back up to the elevator and out of the Batcave, leaving Dick alone; just himself, the computers, and Ace still sleeping at his feet.
He reached forward, fingertips lightly tracing over the keys of the Bat-computer. It felt strange, to be back in the cave again, to be doing hero work again. With a soft sigh, Dick steered his wheelchair away from the computer and toward the display cases, coming to a stop next to one at the very end.
It hurt to look at what stood inside, the vibrant colors sending waves of bitter sadness and nostalgia through his chest.
His Robin suit.
The costume that he had worn since the age of eight.
The costume that had been modeled after his days in the circus.
The costume that had let him fly.
Unable to properly stand on his own anymore, just looking at the suit made his heart clench in his chest. It hurt to see the suit again, to know that no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, he would never be healthy enough, never be good enough, to wear it again.
Robin was dead.
And, considering Dick's deteriorating body, he knew deep down that soon he would be too.
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"Robin? You got the info on the syndicate's location?"
"Oracle." Finger's flying across the keyboard, Dick pulled up the relevant information, lips quirking into a smirk. "The trackers are heading for the docks. Based on that, satellite footage, and heat scans, it's a pretty safe bet to say that they're in the third warehouse on the second dock. You know the one?"
"Wait. Hold up. Oracle? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Red Hood, how did you get onto this line?"
Dick smirked. "I added him." Exasperated sighs sounded from the rest of his family, making Dick laugh. "Come on... he's not that bad."
"Robin, he shoots people."
"Oracle. And he only shoots the bad ones though..."
"Why do you keep saying that?"
"Stop talking like I'm not fucking right here. It's rude."
Leaning back in his chair, Dick grinned. "Robin doesn't really fit me anymore. I want my new name to be Oracle. The all-knowing power behind everything."
Jason's derisive snort rang all to clearly through the com. "All-knowing. Sure, little wing. You keep on telling yourself that."
"I think it's a great name, Oracle." Bruce reassured, tone surprisingly warm and... well... proud.
Dick's grin spread wider, warmth rising in his chest. "Thanks." He mumbled, scooping up Ace and burying his face in the puppy's fur. Ace yipped happily, squirming and trying to lick him.
"Oracle, stop playing with your puppy while on the job."
With a sigh, he reluctantly put Ace down, straightening his headset and placing his fingers back onto the keyboard. "Right, right. Okay. Heat signatures are saying at least thirty targets. Oh, also it looks like there are some kittens in the dumpster outside the warehouse... make sure to get the kittens."
"Kittens? How many kittens?"
"Nightwing, cut it out."
Dick could practically see Damian pouting under Bruce's chastising glare. He quickly pressed the button that would let him communicate with his oldest brother without the others overhearing. "There are at least four. Heat signatures are weak though... I'd recommend getting to them soon."
"Right. On it." Damian confirmed, voice serious despite the fact that they were discussing a kitten rescue in the middle of a drug ring bust.
Bruce's exasperated sigh came through the other line. "Oracle, I know you're discussing the kittens on a private line. He's standing right next to me."
"Sorry, sorry." The laugh in Dick's voice made it all too clear that he was not in fact sorry.
"Any hostages?"
"Not from what I can see. Looks like a pretty easy fight, honestly. Just stay whelmed and keep on feeling that aster."
"Oooh. Aster? I like that one. Opposite of disaster, right?"
"Red Robin. Please be quiet. You're supposed to be scouting."
"Oops. I may have been spotted."
"Fucking hell. This is why I should have gone in."
"Hood, you're not even a part of our team."
"The fuck I'm not? I moved back in."
"So... they've totally spotted me."
"Hood, we'll continue this conversation later."
"You've got several cars full of people coming in from the west." Dick commented, fingers stroking through Ace's fur as he listened to the banter of his father and brothers.
He had missed this.
He had missed this a lot.
It felt great to be back, even if Dick knew it was only temporary.
One final hurrah before the curtains closed for good.
