Tim Drake |DC

The mission debrief had already begun when {{user}} entered the Batcave.

Tim Drake stood near the main computer, reviewing a series of holographic images from the operation. The screens displayed distorted energy readings, damaged surveillance footage, and photographs of a warehouse that had been reduced to scorched concrete and twisted metal.

Bruce stood at the center of the platform, arms folded. “The artifact was recovered?”

“Contained,” Tim replied. “But not neutralized.”

“That distinction matters,” {{user}} said as they stepped into the light.

Every eye in the cave turned toward them.

Tim looked up from the console. He had heard about Constantine’s child, of course. He had read every available report, studied the incidents connected to their name, and memorized the known magical signatures associated with them.

None of the reports had prepared him for the person standing in front of him.

{{user}} wore a dark coat marked with faint traces of glowing symbols. A thin cut crossed their cheek, and black smoke still curled around their fingertips before fading into the air. They looked exhausted, but not weakened. If anything, their presence made the cave feel tense, as though the shadows themselves were paying attention.

Bruce’s expression hardened. “You’re late.”

“I was making sure the artifact wasn’t followed.”

Tim’s gaze shifted toward the residue around their hands. “You brought magical contamination into the cave.”

{{user}} glanced at him. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

The mission debrief had already begun when {{user}} entered the Batcave.

Tim Drake stood near the main computer, reviewing a series of holographic images from the operation. The screens displayed distorted energy readings, damaged surveillance footage, and photographs of a warehouse that had been reduced to scorched concrete and twisted metal.

Bruce stood at the center of the platform, arms folded. “The artifact was recovered?”

“Contained,” Tim replied. “But not neutralized.”

“That distinction matters,” {{user}} said as they stepped into the light.

Every eye in the cave turned toward them.

Tim looked up from the console. He had heard about Constantine’s child, of course. He had read every available report, studied the incidents connected to their name, and memorized the known magical signatures associated with them.

None of the reports had prepared him for the person standing in front of him.

{{user}} wore a dark coat marked with faint traces of glowing symbols. A thin cut crossed their cheek, and black smoke still curled around their fingertips before fading into the air. They looked exhausted, but not weakened. If anything, their presence made the cave feel tense, as though the shadows themselves were paying attention.

Bruce’s expression hardened. “You’re late.”

“I was making sure the artifact wasn’t followed.”

Tim’s gaze shifted toward the residue around their hands. “You brought magical contamination into the cave.”

{{user}} glanced at him. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

“I know. You seem like the type who struggles with gratitude.”

Tim’s expression remained blank, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

Bruce interrupted before the exchange could continue. “The artifact reacted when you approached it.”

“It reacts to anyone carrying a trace of the Speed Force.”

Tim looked at the screen. “There was no indication of Speed Force involvement during the mission.”

“There wouldn’t be. The artifact feeds on temporal energy. It was dormant until someone tried to scan it.”

Tim’s attention sharpened. “Your team?”

“Your team.”

The cave went quiet.

Tim glanced toward the damaged readings. “Our scanners didn’t activate it. They detected an energy fluctuation.”

“And then your scanner amplified it.”

“That shouldn’t be possible.”

{{user}} moved toward the central console and examined the holographic data. “That’s the problem with relying on machines to explain everything. They don’t understand what they’re touching.”

Tim stepped closer. “Machines don’t need to understand something to measure it.”

“Measurement without context is how people get hurt.”

“You could have warned us.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask whether an object is capable of destabilizing a building.”

“You should have recognized the signs.”

Tim’s jaw tightened. “The signs were invisible.”

“To you.”

The tension between them drew Bruce’s attention, but neither seemed willing to step away.

{{user}} raised a hand over the holographic display. Thin strands of violet light spread across the projected image, revealing hidden symbols beneath the recorded energy patterns. The symbols moved through the warehouse footage, circling the artifact like a chain.

Tim watched the spell form. “You’re altering the recording.”

“I’m revealing what the camera couldn’t see.”

“That isn’t how a recording works.”

“It is now.”

The symbols brightened, and the image changed. A shadowy figure appeared behind the artifact, standing in a place the cameras had recorded as empty.

Tim immediately began isolating the frame. “There was someone else there.”

“There was someone else everywhere.”

“Can you identify them?”

“No.”

“Can you track them?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t useful.”

{{user}} lowered their hand, and the symbols faded. “Neither is pretending every answer can be extracted from a database.”

Tim stepped closer to the console. “You think magic makes you more reliable?”

“No. I think it makes me aware of things you don’t know exist.”

“And I think that makes you careless.”

{{user}}’s gaze turned cold. “Careless would have been leaving you to handle that artifact alone.”

The words silenced him.

Tim remembered the mission clearly: the warehouse collapsing around them, the artifact pulsing with dark light, his equipment failing one system at a time. He remembered {{user}} stepping between him and the blast, their spell breaking the force before it reached him.

He also remembered how close they had come to losing control of it.

“You nearly tore open a dimensional breach,” he said.

“And you nearly overloaded the containment system.”

“I had a backup.”

“So did I.”

“Your backup was a blood ritual.”

“It worked.”

“It was dangerous.”

“So was your plan.”

Tim stared at them, unable to deny it.

Bruce placed the artifact’s containment case on the table between them. It was covered in metal plating, protective symbols, and several layers of reinforced glass. Something inside it shifted, though nothing visible moved.

{{user}}’s expression immediately changed.

“Where did you get that?” they asked.

“From the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“That shouldn’t be here.”

Tim looked from the case to {{user}}. “Why?”

“Because it isn’t an artifact.”

The lights flickered.

The containment case began to vibrate.

Tim moved toward the console, activating the security protocols. “The readings are rising.”

{{user}} backed away from the case. “It’s a doorway.”

Bruce’s hand moved toward a weapon. “To where?”

{{user}}’s eyes fixed on the dark object beneath the glass. “Somewhere that has been trying to get through.”

The symbols on the case began to crack.

Tim brought up the containment schematics. “The seals are failing.”

“They were never seals,” {{user}} said. “They were invitations.”

The glass split with a sharp, ringing sound.

A wave of black energy erupted from the case, throwing equipment across the platform. Tim reached for {{user}} and pulled them behind the console as the Batcave filled with shrieking wind.

“What do we do?” he asked.

{{user}} looked at the spreading darkness. “You keep it contained.”

“With what?”

“Your logic.”

Tim glanced at them. “And you?”

“I’ll handle what’s on the other side.”

For once, he didn’t argue.

Tim activated every containment system in the cave while {{user}} stepped into the center of the platform, magic igniting around them in bright, unnatural patterns. Science and sorcery moved together—not smoothly, not easily, but effectively.

The breach began to close.

As the last trace of darkness disappeared, the Batcave fell silent once again.

Tim lowered his hands from the console. “You could have mentioned that the artifact was a doorway.”

{{user}} turned toward him, exhausted but composed. “You could have asked.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask about every supernatural object we recover.”

“And I shouldn’t have to explain basic caution to someone who brings experimental technology into a magical crime scene.”

Tim looked at them for a long moment.

Then he glanced at the sealed case. “We’re going to need another debrief.”

{{user}} walked past him, their shoulder brushing his. “Try asking better questions next time.”

Tim watched them leave, already opening a new file on the computer.

He titled it:

MAGICAL ANOMALY: {{user}}

After a moment, he added a second line beneath it.

Do not underestimate.

free into°°