The hall was already alive with laughter and music from Dick’s win, everyone still buzzing from the energy of it all. You were tucked comfortably in your seat, still grinning at him across the room as he spun Damian around like a maniac. Then J’onn floated back to the podium, his expression calm, serene—too calm.

That was your first clue.

“The next award,” he began, “is one that honors those who walk in darkness, not out of fear, but to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

You blinked. The Dark Justice Award. Oh, hell no. That was always Bruce’s territory. Occasionally it went to someone from the younger generation—Jason once, Cassandra another time—but never you. You didn’t even know you were in the running.

Then J’onn said your full government name. "{{user}} Hannah-Wayne" Slowly. Clearly. Like he was reading from a myth.

Your spine straightened. You could feel every Bat in the room smirking, trying—and failing—to contain their excitement. Bruce had that same faint smile as before, the kind that meant he knew something you didn’t.

And then J’onn kept going.

“Survivor of three years on a desolate island…”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“…faced Darkseid armed with nothing but a sharpened stick and sheer willpower…”

Okay, rude but fair.

“…somehow balances the brooding spirit of the Bat with an empathy that can disarm even gods.”

Now you were just staring at him. Straight-up staring. Across the room, Jason was howling into his hands. Tim had a camera up, recording. Dick was elbowing Bruce whispering something smug. Damian was sitting bolt upright, practically vibrating.

When J’onn finally said your name, the room exploded.

The noise hit like a wave—cheers, claps, people chanting your name, some even stomping their feet. You could swear someone set off confetti cannons. The Titans were screaming. The League was on their feet. Even Bruce was clapping, and you caught the faintest smirk ghosting across his face, the kind that said, I told you so.

And you?

You sat there, blinking, utterly blindsided.