The gymnasium of a small Gotham City elementary school had never been this loud before.

Not even during assemblies.

Not even during fire drills.

Today, it was pure chaos—excited, bouncing, high-pitched chaos.

Because standing at the front of the room, impossibly real and undeniably towering, was Batman.

And beside him—

“Well, technically slightly behind him,” Tim would later argue—

—was Robin, in full uniform, trying very hard to look as composed and heroic as his mentor.

Tim Drake, age thirteen, third Robin, and currently in what Bruce had dryly labeled “Year One field experience,” was discovering something important:

Fighting criminals? Easier.

Standing in front of thirty screaming second graders? Way harder.

“Okay,” Tim muttered under his breath, shifting his weight slightly. “This is worse than getting shot at.”

“I heard that,” Bruce said quietly, not even turning his head.

“Good. I wanted you to.”

Bruce stepped forward, and like someone flipped a switch, the room slowly quieted. Teachers exchanged relieved glances. Kids sat—well, mostly sat—on the polished gym floor, eyes wide.

Bruce’s voice, deep and controlled, filled the space.

“Today, we’re here to talk about safety.”

Tim straightened immediately, slipping into focus. Right. Mission. Lesson. Important. He could do this.

“You are the future of Gotham,” Bruce continued. “And that means making smart choices. Being aware. Looking out for each other.”

Tim nodded along like he hadn’t heard this speech in rehearsal three times already.

“And,” Bruce added, pausing just slightly, “knowing when to ask for help.”

A small hand shot up immediately.

Then another.

Then five more.

Tim blinked. Oh. This part.

Bruce turned—just barely—and Tim knew that was his cue.

“Uh—yeah! Questions!” Tim stepped forward, energy snapping into place as if someone flipped his switch now. “Hit me!”

A kid near the front practically vibrated. “Do you have a grappling hook?!”

Tim grinned.

Oh, finally. His territory.

“I do, actually.” He tapped his belt. “Compact grapnel launcher—lightweight, high tensile line, retractable system—”

Bruce cleared his throat.

Tim paused. “—uh. It shoots a hook. Really fast.”

The kids gasped.

“Can you show us?!” another shouted.

Tim hesitated for exactly half a second before looking at Bruce.

Bruce gave the tiniest nod.

Permission granted.

Tim’s grin came back full force.

“Alright—but everyone stays seated. Safety first.”

He raised his arm, aimed carefully toward a reinforced beam near the ceiling—already approved beforehand—and fired.

THWIP.

The hook latched perfectly.

The room exploded.