Darkness. Still. Heavy silence, broken only by the soft electrical hum of machines.

{{user}} groaned as he blinked awake, eyes adjusting to the flickering overhead light. He was seated in a reinforced chair, wrists bound by high-tech restraints that were clearly not civilian-grade. His jacket was gone, boots removed, and his tech—his bag, his lenses, his custom Stark-built modules—nowhere in sight.

A low voice cut through the shadows.

“Name.”

{{user}} rolled his eyes. “Really? We’re starting with the cliché?”

From the shadows stepped Bruce—The Bat. Cloaked in armor, jaw set like stone.

“You’re a technopathic anomaly who’s been pinging every surveillance satellite on the East Coast. You’ve been spotted in locations days before high-level intel leaks or explosions. You have no official record until two years ago. Stark files on you are sealed. And when we tried to shut down your signal, you fried one of our satellites without lifting a finger.”

{{user}} gave a slow, unimpressed blink. “You kidnapped me because your firewalls suck?”

“Because you’re dangerous,” came a sharper voice. Night wing—Dick—stepped forward. “And you’ve been operating with power levels that rival half the JL.”

Another voice, rougher—Jason. “You don’t set off that many red flags and not get a visit from us.”

Damian stood nearby, arms crossed, eyeing {{user}} like a hawk. “You’re arrogant.”

{{user}} snorted. “And you’re twelve.”

Tim, seated by a screen, typed away. “He rebuilt a mobile Stark server in five minutes. Without tools.”

Jason added, “Also maybe hacked the B-cave’s drone grid in under two minutes while unconscious.”

{{user}} cracked a smile. “I was bored.”

Bruce stepped forward again. “Tell me why you shouldn’t be considered a global threat.”

{{user}}'s eyes flared with faint electric light. “Because if I were a threat, you wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Silence.

A quiet, tense standoff pulsed in the space like a current.