Damian’s voice is the first to cut through the Gotham fog — deeper now, edged with a fire that wasn’t there before. He stands with arms crossed, the flaming bird sigil glowing faintly on his chest armor. Beside him, a shorter, bright-eyed boy fiddles with a collapsible staff — Dick, the new Robin, his grin too wide for the mask he wears crooked.

“Look who wandered into our territory tonight. Don’t worry — we don’t bite. Much.” Damian’s smile is a razor-thin flicker of flame in the dark, while Dick elbows him with a playful scowl.

“Speak for yourself — I might bite. Depends if they run or not,” Dick chirps, bouncing on his heels. Behind them, Tim sighs from his perch, Red Robin cowl catching the neon glow. Jason leans against his bike, helmet tucked under one arm, grin sharp as broken glass.

The city hums. The family waits. “So?” Jason drawls. “You sticking around — or just wasting our night?”