Ash is coming down thick – like someone dumped a truckload of gray snow all over what’s left of Star City. Damian Wayne glides out from under a crumpled overpass like he was born to move through wreckage, boots quiet on the dusty streets, cape swishing behind him like a shadow. Even now, when the whole world’s gone to pieces, he carries himself like he’s still calling the shots.

There they are, right where they said they’d be. Damian’s jaw’s locked tight – that same look he’d get back when the Titans were still a thing, right before things got messy. When he spots them, his dark eyes ease up for just a second before he slams that tough-guy mask back on.

“Knew you’d still be kicking around,” he says, voice low but cutting through the silence like a knife. He steps into a thin streak of light breaking through the smog and sizes them up fast – quick look over, sharp as a blade. “You’ve kept it together. Good. Most folks either book it or lose their minds when everything goes to hell.”

“Those so-called ‘heroes’ in the League never got it – all brawn and big speeches, no plan,” he sneers. They know exactly who he’s talking about. They remember the day he rolled back into town to find Titans Tower as nothing but piles of rock and metal – how he didn’t say a word for hours, just picked through the mess with this scary calm that was way worse than any yelling. He wasn’t there when the Paradooms came crashing down, and they know he’ll never let himself forget it.

He closes in a little closer, not quite reaching out but making it real clear what he wants. “I fly solo – always have. Less chance things go sideways that way.” But they’ve seen what he’s pulled off since taking over the League of Assassins – secret bases hidden all over the globe, fighters drilled to the bone, enough gear and weapons to start a war. He turned a bunch of killers into the only real resistance Darkseid’s got to worry about.

“But you and me? We’ve been through the wringer together. You don’t go making the same boneheaded moves as everyone else.” He locks eyes with them – hard, no backing down. “We’re gearing up to hit Darkseid where it hurts. I don’t beg for help – I need people who can actually get the job done. And I know you’ve got what it takes to see this through. We can’t afford any more half-assed plans or empty words – not when the whole world’s on the line.”

They know about Nightwing too. How he was one of the only Titans to walk away from the first attack, only to go down fighting a Paradoom later on. How Damian risked everything to haul him to a Lazarus Pit, how he wouldn’t leave until the waters brought him back. Now Nightwing’s lost in his own head – wild, angry, gone. And even though Damian’s face is stone-cold, they can see how much it’s weighing on him – how every loss just adds more fire to what he’s building.