The new Titans??

The base sits against the cliff wall in Happy Harbor, a long T-shaped structure cut into the rock itself, half-swallowed by stone, half exposed to the sea wind. Mount Titan, the others call it, though there’s no mountain in sight, just cliffside and grey concrete and windows tinted so dark they read as black. A chain-link fence circles the perimeter, the kind that makes most people assume it guards a decommissioned naval facility. That’s the point. Nobody looks twice at a building that looks like it’s already been abandoned.

The doors part with a hiss of pressurized air, and the smell hits first, ozone and old coffee and the particular metallic tang of a building full of people with powers that occasionally misfire. Superboy steps through ahead, holding the door with one hand even though it doesn’t need holding, the kind of gesture that’s more habit than necessity.

“Home sweet home,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the newcomer is still following. “Welcome to Mount Titan. I know it’s not much to look at from outside. Nightwing likes it that way. Says flashy buildings get flashy problems.”

He says it with the easy confidence of someone who has clearly given this exact tour before, more than once, to more than one nervous new face. Though this time there's a slight difference, a flicker of something almost proud in the way he glances sideways.

"Kitchen's that way, common room's past it, everyone's rooms are up on the second level. We'll get to all that." A small grin. "Figured I'd start with the fun stuff first. Also, for what it's worth, a couple of the others already know your work. Word travels."

The hallway opens into a wider space, exposed piping along the ceiling, the low hum of a generator somewhere below the floor. A row of old photographs lines one wall, some of them faded, some clearly more recent, a whole scattered history of a team that has apparently changed shape more times than anyone bothered to count.

A shimmer interrupts the light along the far wall, just a ripple at first, like heat coming off pavement, and then a girl steps through the solid concrete like it isn't there at all. She's translucent for half a second, edges blurred, solidifying only briefly, and she doesn't so much as glance toward the newcomer.

"Burden," she says, quiet and drawn out, eyes fixed somewhere on the middle distance, one hand pressed lightly to her own chest like she's delivering a eulogy. "I'm a burden."

She drifts sideways as she says it, already sinking into the next wall shoulder first, the words trailing behind her, fainter each syllable, until she's gone entirely and the corridor is quiet again.

Superboy huffs out a short laugh, shaking his head at the empty wall. "She's not a burden. She's just dramatic. Ignore her, she does that to everyone. Her name is Eva by the way."

The corridor bends, and the sound of running water grows louder from somewhere ahead. A door along the left slides open in a burst of steam just as they pass it, and Red Devil steps out mid-stride, towel slung low around his red waist, white hair dripping in dark ropes down his red forehead, one of his black horns broken off and the other was normal.

"Sup," he says, easy, unbothered, like getting caught mid-shower by a tour group is just another Tuesday. Then his glowing orange eyes catch properly on the newcomer, and something registers. "Seen you in action before... Didn't know you were joining up."

"Figured I'd show them around," Superboy says, a little smug about it.

"Late addition, huh." Red Devil scrubs a hand back through his white wet hair, still processing it, clearly filing the recognition away with mild interest rather than any real surprise. "Cool. Small world."

Superboy raises a hand before either of them can say much else, and a short, controlled burst of super breath cuts through the hallway. Red Devil's hair goes flying sideways, whipping dry in an instant, and he blinks through it, unbothered, barely reacting at all beyond a slow, satisfied exhale.

"Thanks," he says simply, already turning back toward his room. "I'm gonna go actually wake up. Good meeting you properly, though. We'll talk later, I've got questions about that overpass thing."

Superboy follows him a few steps toward the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame while Red Devil rifles through a drawer for a shirt.

"Where were you even at, last night?"

"Some party in the city. Lil friends thing." He pulls the shirt on, still talking through the fabric before his head pops through. "It got loud. Good loud, though."

"You've got training at seven."

"I know, I know." He waves a hand, unbothered, dropping onto the edge of his bed to deal with his shoes. "Gotta live while we're young, right? Can't do that lying around here all week."

Superboy just shakes his head, half a smile on his face, and steps back out into the hallway to rejoin the tour.

The hallway opens into a wide observation area, a reinforced window running the length of one wall, looking out over the training deck below. Blue light flickers and dies across the simulation floor, the last remnants of some projected scenario fading into nothing, leaving scorch marks and the faint smell of ozone hanging in the air.

Nightwing stands near the center of the deck, arms folded, posture rigid. Across from him, Stephanie Brown stands with her helmet tucked under one arm, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, chest still rising and falling hard from whatever the simulation put her through.

"You broke formation three times," Nightwing is saying, voice even, controlled. "That's a pattern."

"It's a the-difficulty-was-cranked-to-eleven-and-nobody-told-me thing," Stephanie fires back, gesturing hard at the now-dead simulation floor. "I was leading. Donna, Raven, and Beast Boy were on me the entire run, and the scaling was set for a full league roster, not four people."

"The scaling's the scaling."

"The scaling was insane, Dick." Her voice cracks up a notch, real frustration bleeding through now. "I had three of them behind me and a simulation built like we had twice the numbers. Of course I broke formation, I was trying to keep everyone alive with math that didn't add up, your just like Batman!"

Nightwing's jaw tightens, and for a moment it looks like he's about to argue the point further, but something in his expression shifts instead, a flicker of reconsideration.

"The difficulty was high, plus I’m not bats anyday of the week" he admits, quieter. "That's on me. But you still should've called for the adjustment instead of pushing through it."

"I didn't have time to call for an adjustment, I had a hologram the size of a bus coming at Donna's back."

She exhales hard, dragging a hand down her face, some of the fight draining out of her voice even as the frustration stays.

"I get that you want us sharp. I do. But there's sharp and there's just setting us up to fail so you can lecture us about it after."

Nightwing doesn't answer right away. He glances toward the observation window instead, spotting the small crowd gathering there, Superboy at the front, someone new beside him. His eyes narrow slightly, then shift into something more recognizing, more placing.

"Huh," he says, mostly to himself, before climbing the short stairs up to the observation level with his usual easy grace, though the warmth that usually softens his face on the way up doesn't quite arrive this time either.

"Sorry about that, I was hashing things out with Spoiler." he says to the group at large, voice back to its more measured, public register. Then, glancing at the newcomer more directly: "Welcome to mount Titans... can’t say that I’ve heard much about you,been a hero long...?"

"We're still hashing," Stephanie mutters under her breath about the earlier argument, trailing up the stairs behind him, though she pauses a beat to look the newcomer over too, a flicker of recognition crossing her face as well. "Oh — wait, yeah. I saw the clips. That was you? Nice."

Donna pushes off from the pillar she'd been leaning against near the back of the deck, ambling up with her arms crossed loosely, an easy smile already forming.

"Don't mind them," she says. "Today's just a rough one. The sim really was brutal, for the record." A glance toward the newcomer, appraising but friendly. "And yeah, I know the name. Good instincts, from what I saw. Should be interesting having you around."

Raven rises more slowly nearby, unfolding from where she'd been sitting, hood settling back into place over her head. She studies the newcomer for a moment longer than the others had, quiet and unreadable, before offering the smallest nod.

"I've heard of you," she says simply, nothing more, though it lands with a certain weight coming from her.

Beast Boy trails in last, hair still sticking up from where he'd been lying against the bench, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Wait, seriously?" He blinks, looking between Superboy and the newcomer. "You're the overpass person? Dude, I watched that like four times. That was so cool. No offense to the whole solo thing but that looked stressful as hell."

Nightwing lets the excitement pass without much comment, his attention drifting back toward Superboy instead, something more private settling into his expression now that the recognition has faded into background noise.

"Can I talk to you for a second," he says to Superboy, tone even, though there's an edge underneath it that wasn't there a moment ago.

He steps a short distance away, enough that the words are clearly not meant for the whole group, though not quite far enough to be truly out of earshot.

"Where'd this invite come from," he asks, quieter now, glancing briefly past Superboy's shoulder toward the newcomer before returning his focus fully to him. "The name's solid, I'll give you that. But this isn’t a summer camp."

"I vouched for them," Superboy says, easy, unbothered by the question. "Figured the track record spoke for itself."

"Did you run it by Vic?"

There's a beat of silence, small but noticeable, Superboy's easy expression flickering for just a fraction of a second before smoothing back over.

"I was going to."

Nightwing's eyebrows lift slightly, unimpressed, arms folding a little tighter across his chest.

"You were going to."

"It's fine, Dick. I know what I'm doing. They're good. You saw the footage same as everyone else."

Nightwing doesn't look entirely convinced, glancing once more toward the newcomer, something careful and appraising in the look, before finally letting it go, at least for now, with a short exhale and a small shake of his head.

"We'll talk about it later," he says, in the exact same tone he'd used on Stephanie minutes earlier, and turns back toward the group like nothing at all had just passed between them.