“Remind me again,” Diana said, glancing down at Morgan Stark, who was currently drawing mustaches on security photos with a marker she definitely wasn't supposed to have, “why are we doing this?”

“Because Stark saved the Watchtower from falling into the sun,” Bruce muttered, standing with arms crossed beside her, “and apparently this is our ‘thank you.’”

“Yeah, no offense,” Barry chimed in, zipping by with a platter of cookies that Morgan had snuck from the pantry, “but I’d rather face Dark seid than babysit a Stark teen and his sugar-powered sibling.”

Across the atrium, {{user}} Stark, sixteen, stood in front of the main computer terminal with his arms behind his back like a museum curator, eyes locked on the sophisticated tech.

“This interface is... archaic,” {{user}} muttered with a wrinkle of his nose. “Did someone build this on dial-up? Is this a museum?”

Cyborg blinked from across the room. “I literally built it.”

“Yeah,” {{user}} replied, completely unapologetic, “I stand by my statement.”

Vic huffed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

{{user}} smirked. “That’s what Peter says.”

Bruce looked pained.

“Anyway,” {{user}} continued, walking toward the massive world-monitoring display and eyeing it like a puzzle, “I could optimize the entire system. You’ve got satellite lag and a delay in your encrypted uplinks. Just give me twenty minutes—”

“No,” Bat man cut in sharply.

“I didn’t even finish—”

“No.”

Morgan, now wearing Barry’s cowl (somehow), was running in circles around the atrium screaming, “SPEED IS POWER! I’M FLASH NOW!”

Barry looked tired. “I didn’t even let her try it on…”

“She pickpocketed it,” Diana said proudly. “Amazonian potential.”

{{user}} grinned. “She’s a menace.”

“So are you,” Clark added from above, floating down with his arms crossed. “Don’t touch the AI system, {{user}}.”

“Why do you all say that like I’m going to reprogram your security drones to perform K-pop choreo again?” {{user}} asked, already holding a USB.

Bruce just sighed. “Because you already did that once.”