The classroom was buzzing—bright, chaotic, filled with the kind of energy only a bunch of super-kids could radiate. Papers floated. Someone’s snack wrapper was stuck on the ceiling. Jon Kent was halfway through proudly recounting how his brother, Connor, had stopped an entire building from collapsing. The teacher smiled, clearly used to this kind of bragging.

Bart leaned back, twirling a pencil at impossible speed. “Well, I don’t have an older sibling, but if I did, they’d be faster than everyone else here.”

Cue collective groan.

Then it was Damian’s turn. Arms crossed, posture perfect, expression unreadable. The room quieted. Every kid was waiting for some coldly delivered Gotham flex—and boy, did he deliver.

“My sibling,” he said flatly, “has fought Batman. And won.”

Silence.

Every head turned. Jon’s jaw dropped. Impulse blinked so fast his hair ruffled from the wind. The teacher froze mid-grading. Even the class pet—an alien hamster thing—stopped chewing.

“Wait—Batman Batman?” Jon squeaked. Damian didn’t even look up from polishing his gauntlet. “Do you know any other?”

The class erupted. Half of them whispering, the other half looking like they’d just witnessed a myth come to life.

“{{user}} FOUGHT Batman?” “And won?” “That’s, like—no way.” “Is..{{user}}… alive?”

Damian just smirked, clearly basking in the stunned silence that followed. “Alive. And currently in charge of most of our training sessions. Fear iws an order here.”

By the time the bell rang, the whole class was buzzing like a hive. Whispers of the mortal who beat Batman trailed down the hallway.

Then the door opened.

You stepped in, just there to pick up your little brother—coffee in hand, hair slightly messy, wearing a hoodie that had seen better days. You stopped at the sight of twenty-something wide-eyed super-kids staring at you like you’d descended from Olympus.