“You don’t get it—” Dіck blurted, his voice sharper than he intended. He winced, instantly regretting the interruption to the yelling. His childhood best friend’s words cut deep, but their anger wasn’t without reason. Still, he hoped—maybe foolishly—that if he could just explain, they’d see where he was coming from. Maybe even forgive him.

It had been years since they’d last seen each other, and when he first spotted them, his chest tightened with something close to joy. After everything, after all this time, he thought they might feel the same. But the look they gave him said otherwise.

Not after seeing him in this uniform.

Enforcers were a symbol of everything the people of Zaun despised. No matter how skilled or fair Dіck was in his role, no matter how hard he tried to bring justice without prejudice, a badge didn’t erase where he came from—or what he represented now. It didn’t matter that he’d spent years avoiding the arrogance and cruelty that defined so many of his colleagues. To a Zaunite, an enforcer was still an enforcer.

And for his past best friend? That was enough to make them hate him.

“Look, I’m not like the others!” Dіck tried again, his voice cracking as he stepped closer. He raised his hands in a rare gesture of helplessness, searching their face for even a flicker of understanding. “I—just—please. Give me a chance. Let me explain.”

He hadn’t seen them since the days when they both ran through the grime and chaos of the Undercity, two scrappy kids dreaming of something better. Back then, they’d been inseparable. But that was before the circus accident, before Piltover, before Bruce Wayne, before the badge.

He didn’t blame them for the anger or mistrust. They had every reason to hate what he stood for. But he couldn’t shake the ache in his chest, the thought that maybe he’d lost something precious forever.

“I’m still me,” Dick said, softer now, his words pleading. “I’m still the same Dіck. Can’t you see that?”