Chapter Text
Jon was in the barn when he found it. He was, boxing up the last of his outdoor things, including his basketball, glove, and an assortment of things deemed ‘too dangerous to be inside the house’. He lifted his basketball and found one of his dad’s wrenches behind it. When he lifted it to replace it on the shelf, he found the bottom sticky with a familiar black goo.
He’d never forget that goo. Nothing could wipe the memories of Manchester Black and the pain he'd caused from Jon’s mind. He was sure he'd always recognize that black ooze when he saw it. There was something different about it that set it apart from a moldy mess or something sweet he might have let melt in the heat too long. Looking at it made Jon’s skin crawl with remembrance at being coated in the stuff.
The wrench fell from his hand as he jumped back almost half the length of the barn. His eyes locked on the silver metal and the inky substance attached to it. He knew he had nothing to be afraid of. Black was gone, locked away in his dad’s fortress, his mind gone far enough Jon had heard the words ‘catatonic’ and ‘vegetable’ used to describe him. And the remaining ooze they’d cleaned up after the fighting was over had been inert. Creepy, but harmless.
Neither the ooze nor the wrench moved and Jon decided it was safe to inch back towards it. As he did so, he snatched one of the rags he'd been using to clean, along with one of his mom’s mason jars still sitting out. He wiped the goop off the wrench and shoved the rag into the glass container in his hand before securing the lid on it, making sure it was sealed tightly.
Jon put the jar in his box along with his basketball and hoisted the whole thing into his arms to carry back to the house. He had to take it back to his dad. As innocent as it seemed, Jon didn't trust the stuff. He wasn't even sure how it had survived his mother’s intense cleaning or Batman’s sweep of their land, but it had, and he needed to deal with it.
He carried it back to the house, shifting the box to one hand so he could open the front door and walk inside. He used his foot to guide the door closed behind him before setting the box on the floor by the door. Both his parents had been packing upstairs, so he ran, taking the steps two by two before bolting down the hall and skidding into his parent’s room. His mother was in the middle of wrapping one of her jewelry boxes in newspaper, but stopped to turn to him.
“Where’s Dad?” Jon asked.
His mom pointed at their bathroom. “He stepped in there to take a call. What’s up? I thought you were packing?”
“I was but I found--” Jon stopped as the door to the master bathroom opened and his dad walked out.
“Jon, did your mom call you up here?” He asked.
Jon shook his head. “I came because I have something to show you.” he answered.
Clark nodded. “And I’ll look at it, but that was Robin. He’s asked for your help tonight, and I told him yes. I thought you might like a break from all this packing.” His dad gave him a wide knowing smile that pulled a matching one from Jon.
The temptation to say yes and forget about the ooze was strong. It was sealed, the top of the jar smooth and unpopped, and it was supposed to be inert. Telling his parents about it could wait until he was done helping Damian, besides what if his friend needed him right away? He didn’t have time to worry over something that had been sitting in his barn doing nothing for weeks.
“Go on, Jon. We’ll be fine without you.” his mom said.
Jon ended up in the Batcave standing next to a Damian, dressed fully in his Robin costume except for his domino and cape. They were waiting on something, what Jon couldn’t tell.
When he’d arrived, Damian had looked over him once, said, “Good, now we wait.” Then fell into silence.
Jon waited a moment, but all Damian did was cross his arms and stare at the cave’s elevator with a look of worry. At least Jon guessed it was worry, he’d never seen Damian worried before. It was odd, Damian didn’t worry, not to Jon’s knowledge at least. Yet here his friend was, staring at a set of metal doors and rapidly tapping foot.
“Damian.” Jon tried, but was stopped by a gloved hand.
“I am giving him another minute.”
Him? Was Damian talking about his dad? Were they waiting on information from him before they got started on the case. Jon wasn’t sure that was right. Damian’s dad might scare most people, but Jon was sure there was no reason for Damian to be worried about him showing up.
The elevator began to rumble and Jon refocused on it. The answer to his question would step out of there in just a moment.
A man Jon hadn’t seen before stepped out and over to them. He was tall and fit, with dark messy hair and blue eyes. He wore a smile that turned blinding when he saw Damian. Jon glanced at his friend to find the worried look on Damian’s face changed out for a scowl.
“You’re late, Grayson.”
Jon racked his brain for a Grayson. Of all Batman’s associates, he couldn’t remember his dad talking about a man by that name or nickname. The man obviously knew Damian, and Batman or he wouldn’t be in the cave and Damian would have addressed him with a cooler tone.
“I would have been down faster if you’d told me you were inviting a friend tonight.” his tone was a gentle chide that Damian seemed to completely ignore with an eyeroll. He held his hand out to Jon, “You must be Superboy, Damian’s told me a lot about you. I’m Dick.”
Dick. Grayson. Jon felt silly for not realizing it sooner. He was the first Robin, now Nightwing, and from what Damian had said, his favorite of his brothers. He wondered why Damian called him by his last name. He’d called Jon, Kent for a while, but he’d thought Damian’s move to using his first name had been his friend warming to him.
Jon took his hand and shook it, “Hello, Mr. Nightwing, or Grayson or umm...” Jon trailed off, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Dick chuckled. “You can call me Dick, or Mr. Grayson if you have to.”
He let his eyes slide over to Damian. What had his friend been so worried about? His brother didn’t seem to be angry, and neither of them had said anything about urgent matters so why?
“Thanks, Mr. Grayson. Damian talks about you all the time too, you're like, his favorite person.”
“Jon!”
Dick chuckled and ruffled Damian’s hair, the other kid swatting his hand away just as quickly. “Don’t worry, Lil’ D, he didn’t spill any state secrets. Everyone knows I’m your favorite.”
Damian’s scowl deepened. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“What was?” Jon asked. Maybe now he’d find out what had his friend so upset earlier.
“This.” Damian said, throwing his hands out at both Jon and Dick. “You two. Meeting.” He pointed at Jon.
“That’s what this was all about?” Jon asked, mouth agape. Had Damian really been worried that Jon might not like his brother? Or that Dick wouldn’t like him? It was so normal Jon almost didn’t believe it.
“Tt.” Damian crossed his arms. “I did you a favor, tonight. Or would you rather be back on the farm packing?”
Jon rolled his eyes. “I am grateful, Damian, but my dad said you had a case.”
“Well there’s nothing specific tonight, just regular patrol.” Dick said, stepping over to the computer. “I’m glad Damian asked you to come along. He said you two have been training together. I think this will be a good time to see someone else in action.” Dick winked at him.
Jon smiled. “With everything Damian’s said about you I’d love to work with you tonight.”
Jon was almost certain that Nightwing was showing off, and had been all night. He also didn’t care. Watching the older vigilante fight was like being at a show. He was graceful, and funny, and never seemed surprised by anything. Everything Damian had said about him was turning out to be true, and Jon wasn’t afraid to admit he was star struck.
They were on their way to stop a robbery down by the pier. Robin and Jon were hanging back, so Nightwing could keep an eye out for the robbers. Jon flying beside Robin as the other boy swung across buildings.
“Keep your eyes on where we’re going, Superboy.” Robin said from beside him.
Jon shot him a grin. “I can’t help being distracted, your brother is so cool.”
Robin tutted from beside him. “Of course, he is. He had to be in order to take over the role of Batman.”
“Really?” Jon asked, they were crossing a roof now “You didn’t tell me that.”
Robin shrugged. “We still have a lot to learn about each other. But yes, he took over for Father when he was lost in time. That was when I became Robin.”
“Ohh origin story.” Jon teased. “I kind of got accidentally pulled into it.”
Beside him his friend chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”
“Hey, you promised my mom you’d be nice.” Jon said, but there was no heat in his reminder.
It wasn’t surprising. Jon was still a novice compared to Damian. He’d heard bits and pieces of his friend’s childhood and he knew Damian had been exposed to danger much earlier than Jon himself had. He didn’t stumble into anything, while Jon ended up toted along most of the time. He was working to change that, and learning quickly, but that didn’t make up for lack of experience in the field.
“I was being nice.” Robin shot him a grin. “Your parents were intent on keeping you safe for as long as possible, stumbling in was your best option.”
Jon hummed in agreement as they stopped. Nightwing leaned over the edge of the roof to look down at the scene below.
“What now?” he asked, leaning next to the older vigilante.
“Now, we stop a robbery.”
Jon’s eyes were on Nightwing as all three of them moved together. He hadn’t lied to Damian, his brother really was cool. He’d heard his dad talk about Dick and their team ups before. That, added to what Damian had to say about the man, was enough to make Jon want to try his best. Not just his best, but better than that. His powers had been developing, and since Manchester’s interference and his parent’s loosening their restrictions on his powers he felt like he’d gotten a better grip on them. What better time would he have to stretch them and really show off?
The thugs inside the warehouse were b-listers at best. Jon and Damian could have taken them out on their own, no Nightwing involved, and still had an easy time of it. Jon was having fun, he was pushing his powers to the limit that could be achieved there. Flying, invulnerability, super strength, and heat vision when he needed it. Everything was going great.
Then a new group of men crashed in, led by a man wearing a straw mask who carried a scythe. The mouth of his mask stitched closed with huge black lines, the eyes gaping holes. Jon was sure he was the leader.
Jon was the closest, and the fastest with Nightwing and Robin on the other side of the room. He could take the guy down, he knew that. He shot down from where he’d been hovering, Nightwing’s voice at his back shouting a warning, it was too late for Jon to pull back. The sudden fear at Nightwing’s worry sent a shock through Jon, and his flight shorted out, sending him tumbling to the ground a foot away from the villain.
He sat up, straight into a cloud of gas. He coughed and tried to wave it away. It tasted bad on his tongue and burned his throat. His waving did nothing, so he used his super breath to blow it back towards the ringleader.
The man in front of him cackled, his voice like a screech. He was so much bigger than Jon remembered. He held his scythe above his head, ready to slice down at Jon. He tried to jump up, to fly out of the way, but his body was heavy like he was weighed down with stones. Terror raced through him, sending his heart racing. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take an attack from the scythe, as long as his invulnerability lasted. He wasn’t sure it would though, everything felt like it was shutting down, and not just his powers.
Someone was at his arm, dragging him up and away, his eyes flashed over to see Robin next to him, a clear mask over his mouth and nose. The gas was a problem then, and probably why he Jon’s thoughts were so messed up all of a sudden.
Jon scrambled back as Robin let him go, moving in front of him in a protective stance. His breathing was rapid fire as he watched Robin fight with the man, who’d somehow shrunk down to the size he remembered from before he’d fallen.
Robin dodged the scythe with ease, but Jon couldn’t stop thinking that any moment now Damian was going to get hit and it would be his fault. Damian didn’t have any powers, he just had a thin uniform to protect him from the razor-sharp metal being swung at him.
Then it happened. Robin’s foot slipped. Jon could see it happen before it did. He could have been fast enough, should have been fast enough to stop it from happening and he wasn’t his feet wouldn’t move, his body rooted to the spot he was sitting. Then Robin took the attack in the side, the scythe cutting through kevlar like paper and slicing deep into his friend. Blood sprayed back at Jon coating him and the scythe in bright rivulets. He looked down at his hands, painted in his friend’s blood and screamed.