Chapter Text
The home theater fell silent as laughter was cut short by the sharp, regular chirping sound from Maps Mizoguchi’s wrist. This was a Priority Alpha alert, a channel exclusively for the Bat-Computer’s internal transmissions.
Damian Wayne stopped in his tracks, his hand hovering over a slider. Beside him, Cassandra Cain became motionless, her smile replaced by the stern expression of the Black Bat. Maps looked at her watch, her face draining of color as she read the encrypted scrolling text.
PARIS EVENT. DUCARD CONTACT. PROTOCOL: OPEN HOUSE.
Damian announced, “The movie night has concluded,” as his voice lowered. The “annoyed younger brother” was no longer present.
“What? We haven’t even got to the part where Gray Ghost finds the ledger!” Stephanie grumbled around a mouthful of popcorn.
“Let’s move,” Cass ordered, rising to her feet. She immediately went to the grandfather clock in the room’s corner, without waiting for any questions.
Sensing the change in their demeanor, the way Damian’s shoulders stiffened and Maps began to rapidly tap on her watch, Jason Todd let go of his snack tray.
“Okay,” Jason said, his eyes narrowing. “That’s the ‘World Ending’ alarm. I know that sound. What did you brats do?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Damian said, adjusting his collar as he walked past Jason.
The descent into the Batcave was quiet. When the elevator doors opened with a hiss, the siblings’ chaotic energy gave way to military precision.
A bright, white light from the primary crime computer illuminated the cave. Bruce Wayne was already there, and he wasn’t dressed in his tuxedo. He wore a full Batman suit, with his cowl up, and stood like a monolith before the massive screens.The cavern was filled with a smooth, French, and dangerous voice.
“...The Wolf has been neutralized for now, Detective. But the fallout is substantial. The houseboat has been destroyed, and the cover has been blown off. The children... they performed admirably, considering the sudden escalation.”
It was Henri Ducard. The Manhunter.
Jason, Steph, and Rose stepped off the elevator, looking confused. They were familiar with Ducard, a merciless manhunter who held a strong influence over France’s Intelligence Division. However, they couldn’t comprehend why Batman was currently receiving a briefing from him.
Damian cleared his throat, the sharp sound resonating throughout the large room.
Batman didn’t turn around, but he raised a hand, acknowledging them. “Continue, Henri. The team is here.”
“Very well,” Ducard’s voice crackled through the speakers. “We have initiated the integration protocols for the Paris Cell. But you must secure the Gotham asset. If the Czarnian was here for Jagged Stone, it is only a matter of time before the scent leads to the Guardian.”
Jason frowned. “Gotham Asset? Guardian?”
Maps Mizoguchi advanced, shedding the image of a fan-girl obsessed with romantic entanglements. She resembled a Robin in training, despite her hands trembling a bit as she reached for the console.
She sensed Cass watching her, a silent yet intense reminder of the unspoken words and the things they had chosen to omit.
“Debriefing packets are already on your local drives,” Maps said, her voice steady, forcing herself to focus on the mission at hand. She pulled three tablets from the console table and shoved them into the hands of Jason, Stephanie, and Rose.
“Read fast. We don’t have time for the long version.”
Jason looked down at the screen. The header read: PROJECT: MIRACULOUS / OPERATION: TEMPORAL REFUGEE.
He scrolled, his eyes widening with every line.
SUBJECTS: Temporal Refugees. Reality Displaced Magical Order/ Meta-Humans.
ORIGIN: Miraculous Variance (Designation: Paris).
THREAT LEVEL: Extinction Class/Reality Bending living artifacts of Power.
KNOWN FACTIONS: The Kingdom (Hostile). The Order of the Guardians (Allied/Neutral).
“What the hell is this?” Rose Wilson muttered, reading over Stephanie’s shoulder. “Weapon Clans? Magic jewelry that rewrites reality? Mr. Wayne, are you telling me we have reality benders running around Gotham?”
“They aren’t running around,” Damian stated, walking up to stand beside his father. He crossed his arms, his posture rigid. “They are hiding.”
Stephanie swiped to the next page of the dossier. Her breath hitched.
“Oh my god.”
The screen displayed a profile picture that wasn’t a superhero’s headshot, but rather a candid photograph of a girl in a bakery, beaming as she held a tray of pastries.
TARGET: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
CODENAME: Ladybug / The Guardian.
STATUS: Sleeper Agent / Active Asset.
CLASSIFICATION: Priority One Protection.
Jason looked at the tablet, remembering the girl he had trailed and “interrogated” at the booth. The Triad Princess civilian possesses a secret that is more terrifying and miraculous than before.
She was not just a triad princess; she was the Warlord of a magical order. She's more dangerous than he thought.
“The baker girl?” Jason whispered, looking up at Damian with wide, realized eyes. “Listen, Damian... Is your girlfriend a member of a secret magical cult?
Oh boy, you just had to get over Nika, the heiress to Lord Death Man’s criminal empire in Japan. I assumed you were simply moving on to another heiress associated with a criminal empire in our own backyard.
But it has to be a magical girl, Ladybug -- Superheroine. I know you’re obsessed with anything Shoujo Manga, but I didn’t realize you were so into that kind of thing, literally,” Jason attempted to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work.
”Cease your jesting, Todd, as it’s not proving helpful. and….. She is,” Damian confirmed, his face impassive, though “And that ‘steel’ you sensed in her spine, Todd? That wasn’t from baking bread. That was from fighting a war that destroyed her entire universe.”
Jason looked at Rose. Rose looked at the tablet, feeling very foolish. She had intimidated a girl who had probably fought gods.
“The Paris incident was a targeted strike,” Batman’s voice rumbled, turning the chair to face his children. “Lobo was there. We need to upgrade the surveillance grid around the restaurant and Gotham Academy. We cannot allow the Kingdom to make a move on Gotham soil.”
Bruce looked at Maps.
“Maps, initiate the standard tracking protocols for the Dupain-Cheng asset. We need to know if she makes contact with the others.”
Maps froze for a microsecond. The guilt washed over her cold and sharp. She had just scrubbed the files. She had hidden the terrifying truth about Barbatos to protect Damian’s heart.
She looked over at Damian, his gaze fixed intensely on the screen, oblivious to his girlfriend’s plot to awaken a Dark God as a last resort.
Then she looked at Cass.
Cassandra’s expression was unreadable to anyone else, but Maps saw the slight tightening of her jaw. Protect the heart, Cass’s eyes seemed to say. Carry the burden.
“Yes, sir,” Maps said, her voice sounding a little too thin. “Initiating tracking protocols now.”
She typed the command, burying her secret under a layer of compliance. Damian stepped forward, oblivious to the lie, focused only on the threat.
“I will take the lead on the Academy detail,” Damian declared. “If Lobo or any other bounty hunter comes for her... they will have to go through me. I am finished with passively responding to the villain’s caprices, Father; this time, I shall take the offensive to their stronghold.”
Bruce nodded, his face a mask of stoic approval, though his eyes lingered on Maps for a fraction of a second too long.
Stephanie Brown scrolled through the dossier, her finger hovering over a sub-file labeled H.I.V.E. Connections / Global Assassination Networks. She looked up, blowing a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face.
“I know this is another world-wide threat level, and thanks for the vote of confidence including me here,” Stephanie said, her tone balancing sarcasm with genuine fatigue. “But is this another Leviathan War we’re going through? Because I really don’t want to have to infiltrate another school for rich assassin brat girls. I dare to say I did not like Saint Hadrian’s Finishing School for Girls. The tea was terrible and the murder attempts were annoying.”
For Batman, the slightest twitch of Bruce Wayne’s lips was as good as a smile.
“Well, the similarities are noted, Spoiler,” Bruce said, his voice smooth. “But as you said, it is a funny coincidence. An alumna listed among the Temporal Refugees in that file is Nathalie Sancoeur, formerly the Monarch villain’s executive assistant.”
Stephanie blinked. “Wait. What?”
“Metaversal Entanglement,” Bruce explained, tapping a key to bring up Nathalie’s newly integrated background check. “When reality shifted, it filled in the gaps. Sancoeur’s combat proficiency had to come from somewhere in this universe. According to the new records, she graduated top of her class at St. Hadrian’s.”
Stephanie slumped back against the computer console, groaning. “Bruce... Ugh. I knew it. I’m going to be drafted again into this, aren’t I? I’m going to have to bond with a terrifying French assassin over school uniforms and headmistress trauma.”
“It’s a possibility,” Bruce admitted, the ghost of a smirk vanishing as he turned back to the screens.
“It’s happening sooner rather than later: they are hunting the Kwami of Destruction in the tombs of Bastet and Sekhmet. I’ve activated Selina, as you’re aware. She was Bastet’s favored human on Earth; she needs a partner. You’re going to Egypt, Spoiler .The School Board of Gotham State University has already been informed about your week-long student break.”
Stephanie gave a thumbs-up, happy to be reunited with one of her mentors, which is something she genuinely enjoys.
Leaning against the railing, Rose Wilson finally broke her silence. She was looking through the list of prospective buyers for the Miraculous artifacts.
“I’m in,” Rose said, her voice devoid of Stephanie’s humor. “Because if this is large scale... if there are alien bounty hunters and magic jewels involved... then my dad has a stake in this.”
The air in the cave seemed to drop ten degrees. Even Damian stilled as the siblings’ movements came to a halt.
Rose didn’t look up from the tablet. “Slade doesn’t ignore power vacuums. He’s probably going to the highest bidder. Or worse... he’s taking the Miraculous assets personally. If he finds out these things can grant a Wish? He won’t just be a mercenary. He’ll be a believer.”
Damian’s gaze shifted to Rose, seeing the heavy weight of the Wilson legacy reflected in her eyes. He understood that for a monstrous figure like Slade, the Wish represented not just a means of domination or tyrannical control, but a miraculous opportunity for rebirth.
Everyone in the Cave recalled how Slade’s sorrow had led him to almost destroy humankind during a vengeance-driven dark crisis, stemming from his mistaken belief that Respawn had been killed by the League of Assassins. If Deathstroke secured the Miraculous, he wouldn’t just rule reality; he would rewrite it to pull Grant Wilson back from the grave.
Slade Wilson was a villain beyond redemption, yet his fanatical and oppressive loyalty to his family was even more perilous than his sword.
The room grew cold when Deathstroke was mentioned. Fighting Lobo, a being of pure chaos, was one thing. Slade Wilson’s precision was evident. If Deathstroke was pursuing the Miraculous Court, the situation was no longer just about a rescue.
It was a race to see who could kill who first.
Batman’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl.
Jason Todd offered a slow, mocking applause that reverberated in the cavern.
“We are talking hypotheticals here,” Jason said, stepping into the center of the circle. “Even if Slade has a stake in this, that’s why we’re here. Time and time again, we have defeated that son of a bitch. Even Damian has kicked his ass and put him in our secret prison cell for weeks. He’s not the big threat here.”
Jason’s face grew grim as he pointed a gloved finger at the image of Marinette Dupain-Cheng on the massive screen.
Damian tensed, his hand automatically reaching for his katana. “What do you mean? She is a victim of—”
“She is a Ghongzu,” Jason cut him off, his voice sharp.
He walked up the platform, ignoring Damian’s glare to look directly at Bruce.
“This girl,” Jason growled. “I get it. We know where she came from. She’s a magical refugee. But her heritage in this universe? That’s the problem. I don’t care if she’s the ‘Guardian’ of some jewelry box. In Gotham, by blood, she is royalty in the Ghost Dragons.”
He turned to the rest of the family, his voice rising.
“And don’t tell me you forgot what the Ghost Dragons have done to this family. Especially to you, Bruce. Tim fought King Snake to the death. Cassandra’s mother, Lady Shiva, had to interfere just to keep our brother from death’s door.”
Jason slammed his hand on the console, leaning in close to the screen.
“And that old man, King Snake? He’s related to Bane. The motherfucker who snapped Alfred’s neck.”
Silence descended upon the room.
The memory of their profound grief, a wound that had not healed, persisted even though Alfred Pennyworth was miraculously alive and well upstairs. Everyone recalled the funeral. They all remembered the rage.
“It doesn’t matter that Alfred lived,” Jason said, his voice becoming a dangerous whisper.
“We know what that bloodline is capable of. Don’t fucking overlook the assassination that occurred years ago; Ghost Dragons have put a bounty on your head, Bruce. Not on Batman. On Bruce Wayne.
And if Marinette is the heir to the Ghost Dragons... She’s not merely a valuable magical resource; she’s a direct connection to those who intend to erase the Wayne family’s legacy.”
The accusation heightened the room’s tension, replacing it with a colder atmosphere. Despite being the black sheep, loudmouth, or “dickhead,” Jason Todd cared for this unlikely group of misfits more than he displayed.
His contrarian stance wasn’t for sport; he was identifying a glaring, hazardous mistake.
More than just a girl with hidden truths, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was connected by both blood and underworld law to the Ghost Dragons. And that made her the biggest internal threat to Batman and the Waynes since the Court of Owls.
The Batcave’s air was not merely cool; it was frigid.
Jason’s explosive tirade hung in the silence, the echo of “assassination” and “Ghost Dragons” bouncing off the wet limestone walls.
Damian didn’t flinch or explode, showing no outward reaction. He experienced no residual green hue from the chaos shard on his heart, nor did he exhibit trembling hands or a loss of self-control. He was a picture of discipline, a testament to the League of Assassins’ demanding regimen. His brother, a resurrected, traumatized, and emotional figure, was unraveling before his eyes, which he watched with a detached, clinical demeanor.
Damian saw Jason’s outburst not as a threat, but as a testament to his deep family love, showing he was prepared to be the villain, the pariah, or the guardian.
“You are always the emotional one, Todd,” Damian’s voice, eerily serene, sliced through the tense atmosphere as if with a scalpel. “As if you believe I am an amateur who brings a partner into our midst without vetting her lineage.”
Damian descended from the platform, approaching the Red Hood. He made no move to draw a weapon, as it was unnecessary.
“I was aware of the Ghost Dragon connection on Day Two of my investigation,” Damian stated flatly.
Jason blinked, his momentum stalling against Damian’s wall of ice. “You... what?”
“When I visited the Thousand Delights to establish the parameters of our courtship,” Damian lied smoothly, maintaining the cover of their fake relationship without a single crack in his facade, “I did not go empty-handed. I presented Wang Cheng with a gift. A traditional lacquer tea set, signifying respect between houses.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed, not at Jason, but at the memory of the restaurant.
“It was a test. A Wayne offering tribute to a Triad Elder. And when he accepted it, the whisper he gave was in a dialect of Cantonese that hasn’t been spoken openly in Gotham since the Battle for Chinatown.”
Damian crossed his arms, looking at the profile of Marinette on the screen. He knew this complication would eventually bite him, but he had calculated the risks.
“I noticed the Ghost Dragon enforcers observing us during our initial date, evaluating me not merely as a potential partner but as a threat, Todd. I was aware of her family background. And I proceeded anyway.”
“And you still brought her into the manor?” Jason roared, stepping forward, his protective instinct flaring. “You brought a blood-relative of Shang Cheng into the—”
“Enough.”
Bruce Wayne’s single word ended the debate, not with a shout but a decisive pronouncement.
Batman turned away from the massive computer screen. The cowl was lowered, and Bruce Wayne’s face appeared, marked by fatigue, sternness, and a total grip on the situation.
“Jason is right about the history,” Bruce said, walking past Damian to stand before his second son. “Black Mask contracted the Ghost Dragons five years ago to hit the Wayne Foundation Gala. It was a precise, brutal attempt to decapitate the Wayne lineage. I recall the commander who issued that order, Shang Cheng.”
Bruce looked at the image of Marinette on the screen, then at the file of Wang Cheng.
“I also know Wang Cheng,” Bruce said. “The world knows him as a retired, Michelin-star chef from Shanghai. The underworld knows him as ‘The Butcher of Zhabei.’ A man who served as Shang Cheng’s right hand... and his brother.
While King Snake may have ruled the Ghost Dragons a decade ago, he is now excommunicated, and Shang Cheng currently leads the group.”
Stephanie and Rose exchanged horrified looks. The connection was direct. Marinette wasn’t just a distant relative; she was the grand-niece of the man who tried to wipe out the Waynes.
“But,” Bruce continued, his voice shifting. The gravel of Batman faded, replaced by the sharp, analytical precision of the World’s Greatest Detective. “I drove Damian to that restaurant. I met Wang Cheng face-to-face.”
Bruce leaned back against the console, crossing his arms.
“I acted as Brucie, the bewildered billionaire dad stopping by to see his son’s girlfriend. I pushed him. I made casual, clumsy inquiries about his protection, his territory, his loyalty to the old clans.”
Bruce met Jason’s eyes, his demeanor dismantling Jason’s panic piece by piece.
“Wang Cheng didn’t threaten me. He pleaded with me.”
The cave went silent.
“He told me that his grand-niece is a ‘bird that fell from a different sky,’” Bruce recounted. “He said that the Ghost Dragons claim her by blood, but she does not claim them. He is terrified for her, Jason. Not of her.”
Bruce gestured towards Marinette’s profile, showing her holding pastries and smiling.
“I analyzed her micro-expressions. I analyzed her reaction to the enforcers. There is no recognition. No conditioning. She is a Warlord of the Guardians, yes. She is a powerful meta-human, yes. But regarding the Ghost Dragons?”
Bruce’s voice left no room for argument.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng is innocent. She has no knowledge of the assassination bounties, no ties to the Black Mask contract, and no loyalty to the Shang Cheng lineage. She is a complication, yes. But she is not the enemy.”
Bruce looked at Jason, his expression softening just a fraction, acknowledging the trauma without coddling it.
“I appreciate your vigilance, Jay. You are right to remember the threats against this family. But in this specific instance... the girl is clean.”
Damian exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. He kept up the pretense, but the genuine relief washed over him knowing his father had supported his decision.
“She is a refugee,” Damian added quietly, looking at the screen. “Her war is with the Kingdom, Todd. Not the Bat.”