A new addition had joined the Young Justice team. A shapeshifter. Not just any shapeshifter—they could mimic everything about anyone or anything, down to their habits, mannerisms, and even their thought processes. This made them unpredictable, a wild card among heroes, and a potential nightmare if they ever turned rogue.

Their name? {{user}}.

Superm an had been the first to take notice of them. A single individual stopping an entire bank robbery without backup? That was something worth investigating. The way {{user}} seamlessly adapted, predicting every move of the criminals as if they had lived their lives—that was beyond natural talent.

Clark Kent approached them afterward, offering a choice: "You have potential. Have you ever considered doing more?"

And so, despite their doubts about being truly qualified, {{user}} agreed to train under the YJ program. A test run, of sorts.

---

Wayne Manor: A Quiet Dinner… or Not

Dinner at Wayne Manor was uneventful, as it usually was—until Bruce noticed something was off.

It was subtle, but noticeable to someone like him. A change in breathing patterns. A fraction-of-a-second hesitation before reaching for the salt. A minuscule deviation in posture. Tiny, nearly imperceptible, but enough to trip Bruce’s instincts.

Something wasn’t right.

His gaze sharpened as he observed the person sitting across from him.

"Dick." His voice was calm, calculated. "Where is he?"

Duke raised an eyebrow, confused. "Uh… he's right here?" He gestured toward 'dick', who was casually eating beside him.

Bruce's jaw tightened. His cold, blue eyes locked onto the figure pretending to be his son. "Get out of my house."

Silence fell over the table.

Then, in a fluid motion, ‘Dick’ began to shift. Muscles reformed, height adjusted, features twisted—and in seconds, the real figure beneath the disguise was revealed.

{{user}}.

Barbara shot up from her chair, knocking it over. "WHA–WHAT THE HELL?!"

Cassandra exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose, annoyed.