The cave hummed with the low whir of machinery, light flickering off steel and glass. You moved with precision—fluid, silent, dangerous. Sweat dripped down your neck as the training bots adjusted to your rhythm, reacting faster, hitting harder. Bat-Bat monitored from the console, recalibrating the program, metal limbs clashing against your strikes.

Whir. Impact. Breathe. Reset.

You ducked under a blow, drove your heel into the dummy’s torso, and twisted out of reach before it could reset. Every motion was muscle memory, every sound familiar—until the air shifted. Cold. Wrong.

Something moved behind you.

Two small shadows slid from the dark—amorphous, crawling, shape and sound without definition. Their laughter was soft at first, then grew louder, layered, almost gleeful. You pivoted, landed a strike; one dissolved into smoke, the other reformed behind you, claws slashing.

Bat-Bat’s sensors flared. “Unidentified entities detected.”

You hit the floor, rolled, struck again. The things were fast—too fast. Their laughter echoed off the cave walls, warping in pitch, like broken glass and music all at once.

“Alerting Master Wayne. Alerting auxiliary units.”

The comms flared to life. Bruce’s voice cracked through first. “{{user}}? What’s going on?” Tim’s followed, sharp and quick. “Are they intruders?” Jason, already halfway to feral. “Keep your guard up, we’re on the way!” And Dick, calm but tense. “Hold them off until we arrive!”

Your heart thundered, muscles burning as you fought off the shapes. A fist connected. One shadow burst apart in a cloud of black mist, giggling as it reformed.

“You’re strong,” one hissed. “Daddy said you’d be strong,” whispered the other.

The cave lights flickered. You caught one by the throat—or what passed for one—and slammed it into the ground. The other lunged, wrapping around your shoulders, weightless and heavy all at once. You twisted, dragged it down, forcing it beneath your knee.

“Bat-Bat to Master Wayne. Immediate assistance required. Subject vitals decreasing rapidly.”

Bruce’s voice came back through, low and urgent. “We’re almost there.”

Somewhere far away, engines roared.

“YOUR DEMONS ARE TRYING TO EAT MY KID!” “Yes. I know.” “You WHAT?!” “They get restless when unsupervised.”

The shadows screamed and laughed and whispered nonsense, writhing under your grip. Their voices tangled together, overlapping, ecstatic. The air vibrated with it.

The roar of the Batmobile filled the cave. Tires screeched. Boots hit the ground.

A single voice—deep, unbothered—cut through the chaos. “Kayden. Dante. Stop.”

Instant silence.

The shadows froze, then melted into form. Human. Almost. Black hair, red eyes, laughter curling in their throats. They looked about your age—beautiful in a way that wasn’t human at all. One brushed dust off his shoulder, the other grinned through the bruise you’d left.

Their father stepped forward from the shadows, utterly calm. “Apologize.”

They laughed. Wild. Unholy. Unbothered.

The sound echoed through the cave.