The soft hum of energy filled the Watchtower’s vast docking bay as the Zeta Beam faded, leaving a shimmer of light in its wake. The massive curve of Earth spun slowly beyond the windowpanes, pale blue and serene—completely unaware of the legends now stepping onto the deck.

Bruce Wayne moved with silent precision, cape brushing against his boots as he surveyed the entrance corridor. Beside him, Dick Grayson walked a step lighter, still carrying the ease of Nightwing even when out of uniform, his eyes scanning the walls with familiar fondness.

Trailing just behind them was the third—and most reluctant—member of the Wayne party. Robin.

Jason Todd’s boots hit the polished floor with a loud stomp, like he was trying to prove a point with every step. His gloved hands were crossed over the bright ‘R’ on his chest, his black cape draped around his shoulders, and his domino mask couldn’t hide the scowl tugging at his mouth.

“This is boring already,” Jason muttered, but loud enough to be heard.

Bruce didn’t respond. He didn’t have to—he just kept walking toward the central chamber, his silence speaking volumes.

Dick smirked, nudging Jason’s shoulder. “You begged to come, remember?”

“I didn’t beg,” Jason shot back. “I insisted—on account of being left behind while the two of you went to go play ‘Justice League Business.’”

“You’re thirteen,” Bruce finally said, eyes forward. “Not a League member.”

Jason sped up until he was beside him. “Then this is educational.”

“It’s babysitting,” Dick muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite in his tone.