Chapter Text
Damian would rather kill himself than live in a city like Fawcett.
Mornings in Fawcett looked like a fairytale metropolis, at least on this side of town. Damian was perched on top of the tallest building he could find, bored out of his mind, birdwatching people in their penthouses and checking footage of the neighboring skyscrapers. At least Gotham was always interesting. Even in the best neighborhoods, you could find multiple drug deals, petty thieves, and muggings. Damian supposed, as bleak as it is, it’s a good thing. The less crime in the world, the better.
The establishments of greatest suspicion were WHIZ Radio and Sivana Industries. Reasons being, Joker had a hobby of hijacking radio and news stations to show off his latest attempts at humor/terrorism, though it was usually Gotham or national stations. Then there was Sivana Industries, a rival company to Wayne Enterprises, focused on scientific development. That jester loved stealing others’ work to “enhance” his latest abominations.
Damian checked the Sivana Industries cameras from last night, again. Once more, nothing. Damian double-checked to ensure his tracker was off and stepped off the rooftop ledge. Grabbing his grappling hook, he soared to the next building with perfect precision.
Because it was broad daylight and Damian was on a stealth mission, he took the back way into a neighboring alleyway. Before Damian could examine the perimeter, he got an alert on his wristwatch—a message from Drake.
Red Robin: Where are you?! If you’re in Fawcett—I’m serious, Damian, I will jump you.
Damian rolled his eyes as he hacked his wristwatch to show his tracker’s location at Jon’s house.
Robin: I’m still not talking to you. You’re lucky I’m at the Kents’, or else I’d have your head.
Would Damian actually murder his brother? No. Would he still threaten to do it on a daily basis? Yes. “Mr. Second-Best Detective” should know better than to talk down to him.
This morning, Damian didn’t even pay attention to the alert on the Batcomputer reporting a sighting of the Joker in Fawcett City. He only started caring when Drake and Grayson told him he was forbidden to investigate it.
Drake had stated, “With Batman off-world, there’s strict protocol about Robin not being anywhere near the Joker.” Damian had rightfully told his least favorite brother that he had no authority, as Damian had far more experience in fighting and detective work than Drake, having begun training before he could even talk.
The pretender was aggravated by his truth, so he made up a pitiful defense: “I’m your elder. You do what I say!”
That was a fatal mistake, Drake would cry in agony tonight as “young” Damian solved the case far swifter than he ever could.
Damian hid behind a dumpster to stay concealed and turned on his navigator to locate the closest, most hidden entrance to Sivana Industries. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the alleyway from above.
Damian silently turned off his navigator and peeked around to see Captain Marvel.
The Robin had memorized Father’s notes on every Justice league member by heart: Captain Marvel—a magical champion with powers equal to Superman. Naïve and childish, but loyal and good-hearted. Secret identity: unknown.
Father, the world’s greatest detective, had yet to uncover the Living Lightning’s true identity in his four years with the League. Damian knew he hadn’t yet surpassed his father’s detective skills, but he couldn’t resist taking a crack at finding out the Captain’s secret.
Blending into the shadows, Damian observed Captain Marvel looking around the alleyway. Satisfied that no one was there, the Captain sighed and yelled, “SHAZAM!”
The ground shook as a bolt of lightning came from nowhere, striking the invincible man.
Damian blinked rapidly, trying to regain his sight after the blinding flash. As his vision returned, he saw—a scrawny boy, his age or younger.
…You have got to be kidding. Did Damian mention how much he hated magic?
The boy adjusted to his exceedingly short stature and spotted Robin staring right at him.
“…Robin?” the boy—Captain Marvel—called out.
Damian slowly stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed, hoping to display dominance.
“Yes, Captain Marvel,” Damian said. He watched the boy’s eyes widen and shoulders sink as the look of inescapable terror overtook his face.
“What are you even doing here?! Where’s—Batman’s not here, is he? Please don’t tell me Batman saw that. Holy moly—”
“I am alone. You only need to fear me,” Robin interrupted, and Marvel’s face grew sour.
“What do you want with me?!” the boy snapped.
Damian had never met the Captain before, but he knew this was out of character. Did he switch bodies with the boy? Was the boy a host? Was Captain Marvel all an act? Damian found himself faced with an unlikely opportunity he couldn’t help but accept.
“I didn’t come for you, but I need assistance, and this seems like the perfect situation to get some.” Damian purposely kept calm, noticing it annoyed the Marvel boy even more.
“…You’re going to blackmail me?” Billy sighed in disbelief.
“Of course. But don’t worry, it’s for the greater good. Joker was spotted in this area last night. I was sent to retrieve him and lock him back in Arkham. It will be much easier with you here—just use your super hearing to locate maniacal laughter in the area, and I’m sure it won’t take long.”
Damian wasn’t completely horrible. He’d heard much praise for Captain Marvel’s character and couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous of his success at such a young age. But since Marvel was a magical, no-good, scum-bag cheater, Damian felt much better knowing he’d earned his own skills.
Anyways, he wouldn’t hold this over Marvel’s head for long—just long enough to prove a point to Drake.
Captain shuffled his hands through his (very badly cut) hair and huffed as he looked down at Damian. Though Marvel was much scrawnier, he still had about four inches on Damian. Damian noted his eyes—the same cornflower blue as Captain Marvel’s—and his symmetrical, chapped lips as they started moving, snapping him back into reality.
“So if I help you catch the Joker, you won’t tell Batman—or anyone else—that I’m a kid?”
“That, and you have to answer any questions I have. Then I won’t alert Batman to your secret,” Damian grinned. He loved blackmail.
“That’s not fair!” The boy raised his voice, and Damian calmly lifted his wrist to bluff making a call.
Billy grabbed his wrist in a panic. “Okay! Okay, fine. I’ll help you with your stupid Joker thing. -But I get to ask questions too!”
“Sure. Now become Captain Marvel, and we’ll have a mutual discussion while you listen for cackling.” Damian’s calm tone only seemed to fuel Marvel’s irritation further.
“Shazam,” the boy groaned before quickly transforming into the Living Lightning.
“First question: how does—that work?” Damian asked, genuinely curious if it was the boy or the man truly under there. Though, he already suspected the answer.
“…You didn’t even plan this, did you? You just happened to walk into the wrong alleyway?!” Marvel gestured dramatically, hands covering his face, as if Damian were the biggest nuisance he’d ever encountered.
“Answer the question,” Damian replied coolly, glancing down at his watch to check the area cameras again.
“When I was nine, a wizard gave me the role of Champion. When I say his name, I become Cap. I’m not, like, possessed or anything—it’s still me under all this.” Captain gestured to himself.
“Well then, who are you?” Damian asked, still
finding no sign of Joker or anything suspicious in this utopian town. He put his watch down to examine the Captain.
Captain leaned down, pointing to his chest. “Who are you first!”
“I’m the blackmailer. You’re the blackmailee. Know your place. Ask me any other question than that,” Damian scoffed, leaning against the brick alley wall with his arms crossed.
“Fine. Do you think Batman would kick me out of the League if he found out?” Marvel’s sad expression reflected his youthful face, and somewhere deep inside, Damian felt a flicker of something. Was it… pity?!
“He’d be a hypocrite, given his army of child soldiers. I’d be more worried about Superman and Wonder Woman—they’re big on the no-unsupervised-child-heroes rule. Now, your name. And don’t forget to keep listening for the clown.”
“Don’t worry, I’m listening. I’m Billy Batson. I’m 14. That feels so weird to say as Cap, like I’m breaking a rule. Anyway, I’m also a junior newscaster for WHIZ. And don’t even ask about the whole ‘where are my parents’ thing—I’m an orphan. I take care of myself, and I do it well. If you can’t introduce yourself by your real name, at least do it as Robin so it’s not as awkward.”
Captain Marvel is a homeless, barely-teenager orphan. Of course.
Billy fit his name. Damian suspected the boy was trying to offer an olive branch and make this forced partnership less horrible. It was… admirable.
“I am Robin, Son of Batman. I am your age. There’s not much more to say about me.”
“So, do you do anything besides being Robin? Like, ever? I’m a workaholic too, but I still have hobbies. Sorry if I’m going off-topic—I’ve never met anyone my age in the cape business.”
Someone get this kid some ADHD medication.
“…I like art,” Damian said quietly. He had a few more interests, but none that were relevant to share with Billy.
“What kind?” Billy pried.
“Mostly pencil sketches and oil paints—”
Billy suddenly raised a finger to his lips to shush Damian.
Damian’s cheeks flushed red—with anger. He was graciously answering this idiot’s questions, and this was the thanks he got? Who did he think he was?
“I hear something. What kind of laugh does Joker have? Is it, like, deranged or a muhahaha evil, or—”
Damian shoved Billy away entirely. “Deranged. Where do you hear it?”
“I think it’s coming from the museum district.”
Finally, the boy was useful.
“Fly me there immediately,” Damian commanded.
Marvel smirked. “Okay.”
In a flash, Damian was up in the air in a bridal carry. It was so degrading, but it would save him five minutes. For the sake of practicality, he could endure.
As they dropped onto the roof of one of the museums, Billy let Damian down and immediately went into deep concentration.
“I swear I heard the laugh. I think it was west of here—near the McKeon History Museum.” Before Damian could respond, Billy scooped him up again and flew to the building in seconds.
Marvel landed gracefully in front of a uniformed officer stationed outside the museum. Damian shifted to stand behind him, silently observing the interaction.
“Officer Lee! Good to see you! I was just stopping by to check if anything suspicious has happened around here,” Billy said, giving the officer his trademark dazzling smile.
“Captain Marvel! Hey, good to see you too! We’re here because of a break-in last night. Small theft—nothing anyone noticed until this morning. Should I let the department know you’re on the case?”
“We’re on it, Officer. Thanks for letting us know!” Billy nodded politely before stepping aside.
Damian stepped out from behind him and grinned as the officer jumped back in shock.
“Wha—what is that—” the officer stammered, staring wide-eyed at Robin.
Without a word, Damian followed Billy into the museum. As soon as the staff saw Captain Marvel, they eagerly escorted them to the back archives where the theft occurred. It was unsettling how friendly everyone was here—no suspicious glares, no panicked whispers. Just… polite smiles.
A blonde woman with a name tag reading Summerly led them to an empty display case.
“Right here was an ancient Gaelic text. We keep it back here because it doesn’t draw much attention. It’s written in a forgotten language, so no one knows what it means. Honestly, I have no idea why anyone would steal it—it’s one of the least valuable things we have.”
“What’s the name of the artifact?” Damian asked.
“I believe it’s called the léiriú draíochta,” Summerly replied, smiling brightly.
Damian’s lips tightened. Why was everyone here so… nice?
“Thank you. That will be all,” Damian said curtly, turning on his heel. He gestured for Billy to follow.
Billy waved cheerfully. “Thanks, Cissy! Tell Pete and Sterling I said hi!”
“You know all these people by name?” Damian asked in a hushed tone as they turned a corner.
“Not everyone, but I try to. She’s my bosses niece,” Billy explained as they approached the museum’s computer room.
“Woah, what are we doing here? What about the security staff? They’ll catch us!” Billy whispered harshly.
“They’ll catch us if you don’t stop yelling,” Damian muttered. “I looped the cameras, and no one’s in this part of the building. Their security is laughable. Just stay quiet and let me work.”
Damian slipped inside the computer room with practiced ease. In moments, he located the high-resolution photos of the stolen artifact and uploaded them to his wristwatch. Turning back to Marvel, he asked, “Do you know anyone who speaks Old Gaelic?”
Billy blinked at him. “Let’s see if Solomon does.” He stepped closer to the screen, squinting at the foreign text until his expression shifted.
“I think it’s some kind of spell for making a… magical manifestation? Solomon’s comparing it to, like, a video game avatar or something.”
Of course. He hears advice from the literal Biblical Solomon. Show-off.
“Joker can’t do magic, right?” Marvel turned back to Damian, seeking reassurance.
“No, but he always finds ways around that. You’re completely certain that’s what the text says?”
Billy hesitated. “Not completely, but it’s the best guess I’ve got. Take it or leave it.” Damian couldn’t help but -slightly- admire Billy’s attempt at friendliness, even as he was currently being extorted.
Damian’s watch vibrated, interrupting him.
Nightwing: Robin, I have your location. Come home right now, or I will make you.
Damian clenched his jaw and turned to Billy. “I have other matters to attend to. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll contact you tomorrow with a plan.”
“Wait!” Billy called out as Damian started to leave.
“What now?” Damian sighed, exasperated.
Billy extended his pinky. “Pinky promise you won’t tell anyone.”
Damian stared at the offered pinky in disbelief of the childish gesture. “You have my word. We don’t need to do… that.”
Billy didn’t lower his hand. “I don’t trust you.”
With a groan of annoyance, Damian begrudgingly locked pinkies with Marvel.
“How will you call me?” Billy asked as Damian opened the door.
“I have my ways,” Damian replied coolly, shutting the door behind him as his watch buzzed again.
Nightwing: Damian, you’re grounded tonight. You can’t keep running off around the country—blah blah blah blah blah.
As interesting as this case had become, Damian was starting to realize it would be far more complicated—and far more annoying—than he’d anticipated.