The week that followed settled into an odd sense of normalcy for Tom. Mornings were quiet, with Alfred ensuring Tom had everything he needed. Afternoons were spent exploring the manor’s endless halls or reading in the library. Occasionally, Bruce or Alfred would join him for brief conversations that touched on casual topics but often hinted at the larger events unfolding in the background of their shared world.
The highlight of this time, however, wasn’t the conversations with Bruce or Alfred even if he was still struggling to process that was a part of his new reality. It was his nightly training with Kaelith.
Each evening, as the manor fell silent, she would emerge from the shadows, her presence commanding yet oddly reassuring. Their sessions began with sharp instructions and relentless guidance, pushing Tom to channel and control the faint flickers of magic he could now sense.
Progress was slow but steady, accelerated by Kaelith’s occasional use of her own power to guide him. What might have taken months alone was achieved in days under her watchful eye. By the end of the week, he could sense the faint hum of energy on his own, though the ability to channel it remained frustratingly out of reach.
“You’re learning faster than most,” Kaelith admitted one evening, her usual smirk softened. “But don’t let it go to your head, darling. You’re still a novice.”
Tom accepted her critique with a nod, his determination outweighing his frustration. Whenever he found a quiet moment during the day, he practiced, careful not to draw Alfred’s attention. Despite the challenges and the secrecy, learning magic was something he was amazed he could do, one of the most tangible things confirming he wasn’t in his old world.
But even with all these fantastical things happening, Tom's major concern during this time was research. The gnawing question of where exactly he had ended up within the vast DC multiverse consumed his thoughts. To piece it together, he turned to the most invaluable tool he had access to: the internet.
Using a laptop Alfred had provided—an older model by Wayne Tech standards but far better than anything Tom had used back in his world—he got to researching. The first day of his investigation was frustrating. Searching for clues about superheroes online in a world where they actually existed was more difficult than he'd anticipated. Official websites, sanitized PR accounts, and archived news stories were helpful but often vague. Superhero identities were, of course, heavily protected, and information about major events was curated for public consumption.
Yet, patterns began to emerge. Tom combed through articles, interviews, and public records. He found mentions of "The Team," a covert group of young heroes affiliated with the Justice League but operating independently. Which sounded really familiar to Tom, he couldn’t place it right away, but he was sure it was in something he watched.
One night, after hours of research, it clicked. Young Justice. He remembered the animated series from his own world—the covert team of sidekicks led by the League and their struggles during the first season. Several details from his research lined up: the public’s awareness of certain events in the past year matched the timeline of the Light’s secret plans. Mentions of Cadmus Labs and an incident involving a "breakout" confirmed it further. Tom’s stomach churned as he read about the aftermath of an event he now knew was the creation of Superboy.
He frowned, leaning back in his chair. There was a glaring question in his mind: If this was after the Cadmus event, why hadn’t the Justice League left Earth for trial on Rimbor yet? That event was pivotal, a core plot point leading to the League’s absence during Young Justice Season 2.
But as he sifted through more public accounts, Tom realized this world seemed to be about a year behind those events. Helping him calm down a bit—he wasn’t dropped into the chaos of Season 2 just yet. That gave him time.
"Well could be worse," Tom muttered, running a hand through his hair. He idly thought about all the other places he could have ended up in. Like DCeased. He shuddered violently at that thought.
Despite this revelation. If this world followed the same trajectory as the show, then the Light’s influence extended far beyond what the public could see. And if there were divergences—differences in timelines or outcomes—his knowledge might not be as reliable as he hoped.
“I wonder if they’ve found Roy Harper yet,” Tom muttered under his breath, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the desk echoing softly in the quiet room. The glow of his laptop illuminated his face, casting long shadows against the walls. It was late, the manor shrouded in a deep, almost oppressive silence, and he needed someone to bounce his thoughts off. Ironically, the only one he felt remotely comfortable using as a sounding board was the demon tethered to him.
“Kaelith… you there?” Tom called into the empty room, his eyes locking onto the dark, irregular shape of his shadow.
The shadow shifted subtly, pooling unnaturally in the dim light before Kaelith stepped out of it with her signature languid grace. Her smirk was already in place, sharp and mischievous, as if she’d been waiting for an opportunity to poke fun. “Let me guess,” she said, tilting her head playfully. “More late-night training? Or maybe you’ve finally decided to admit how much you adore my company?” She winked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Tom, unfazed, ignored her comments entirely, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “How much do you know about me? About the specifics of the information I have?”
Kaelith raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced with curiosity. “Only what you’ve spoken out loud since we crossed paths at the diner,” she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. “However,” she added, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “my kind has a knack for sensing when someone knows things—juicy things. Just not the specifics.”
Tom nodded slowly, absorbing her response. “Well then,” he said, his voice steady but contemplative, “I’m nearly 99% sure that telling you what I’ve been researching and confirming what DC universe I’ve landed in will be fine.”
Kaelith’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, a slight wince flashing across her face. It was so subtle Tom didn’t catch it. Still, she said nothing, her expression quickly slipping back into its usual mask of indifference.
Tom pressed on. “The one person I can speak about this with comfortably,” he continued, “is the one person who’s in almost the same situation as me.” Kaelith didn’t respond, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed him with a mix of intrigue and something else—perhaps a flicker of caution.
Tom took a deep breath and began summarizing his findings. He explained how he’d pieced together the existence of The Light, their ideological drive to manipulate humanity through conflict, and their connection to Cadmus and the cloning projects. He detailed the Justice League’s past mind-control via Starro-Tech and how the Light had orchestrated it all to sow chaos and discredit the League. He outlined the roles of key figures like Vandal Savage, Lex Luthor, and Klarion, connecting their actions to the broader picture he’d assembled from his research.
Kaelith listened intently, her sharp features betraying no clear reaction as he laid out the foundation of what he’d learned. For once, she seemed content to let him speak uninterrupted, the usual quips and teasing absent. By the time he finished, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.
Tom exhaled heavily, his fingers tapping against the desk in a restless rhythm. The weight of his thoughts pressed against him, thick and relentless. He looked up at Kaelith, her figure casually leaning against the edge of the desk, her sharp eyes studying him with an unsettling calmness.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what would you do? Not that asking a demon for advice is the best idea I’ve ever had.”
Kaelith let out a low, amused chuckle, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. “Well, darling, if this were before I got myself shackled to your charming existence, I wouldn’t have done a damn thing. Information, especially the kind you’ve stumbled into, is power. And demons? We like to hoard power. I’d have sat on it, waiting for just the right moment to use it to my advantage.”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like the best strategy for my survival.”
Kaelith smirked. “Oh, it isn’t. But it’s fun. And let’s be honest, humans like you tend to dig your own graves when left uninformed. But, alas,” she added with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m chained to you, and our survival interests are… aligned.”
She straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening. “If you want my honest advice, which I assume you do since you summoned me from my cozy shadow for this little heart-to-heart, the least dangerous thing you could do is nothing. Keep your mouth shut, sit back, and let the cards fall where they may.”
Tom frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s not exactly helpful.”
Kaelith held up a finger, her expression turning serious. “But I know you, Tom. You’re not going to do that. You’re practically vibrating with the need to do something. And if you’re dead set on throwing yourself into the fire, the best option is to give the information to the Justice League. All of it. Let them handle it, knowing the full picture.”
Tom leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And you think that’s the safest play?”
“For you? Yes,” Kaelith replied without hesitation. “You’re out of your depth, darling. These aren’t just some back-alley thugs or run-of-the-mill corporate conspirators you’re dealing with. The Light? They’re operating on a level you can’t even fathom. But the Justice League? They’ve got the resources, the power, and, frankly, the experience to counter it.”
Her gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “You’ve got knowledge they don’t. Pieces of the puzzle they haven’t even realized they’re missing. Handing it over to them is your best shot at keeping yourself alive and maybe, just maybe, making a difference in this world like you so desperately want.”
Tom sat back, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He hated how much sense her words made. Survival was his priority—always had been—and Kaelith was right about one thing: the Justice League was his best shot at making it through this mess alive. Beyond that, if his knowledge could mitigate some of the crises this world faced, it was worth the risk.
“Fine,” he said finally, his voice resolute. “I’ll tell them everything I know pertaining to the light. Or at least, everything I can without crossing any… lines.”
Kaelith’s smirk widened, sharp and knowing. “Good choice. Now, let’s hope your noble heroes are as competent as the stories in your head make them out to be.” She pushed off the desk with an almost lazy grace, her form starting to dissolve back into the shadows. But just before she vanished entirely, her voice drifted through the room, soft and mocking. “And, Tom? Try not to get yourself killed before this plays out. I’d hate to lose my favorite mortal.”
“Only because you’ll die if I do,” Tom shot back, not even glancing at her as he turned his attention back to his laptop. Her faint laugh echoed in the silence, and then she was gone.
The glow of the screen reflected in his eyes as he stared at the scattered notes and half-finished thoughts he’d compiled over the past week. Tomorrow, he’d talk to Bruce. It wasn’t about trust—he already knew the League were paragons of this world, flawed as they might be. It was about prevention, about doing what was necessary to survive and to blunt the worst of the coming shitstorms.
----------------------------------------
The next morning, Tom wandered through the sprawling halls of Wayne Manor, searching for Bruce. The mansion was vast, almost labyrinthine, and while he had explored much of it during his stay, there was one place he hadn’t dared to venture: the Batcave. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see it—he absolutely did—but the thought of poking around for a secret entrance in a house owned by The Batman seemed like a fast track to being thrown out.
He had ideas, though. Several, in fact. The grandfather clock in the main hall was suspiciously door-sized, and there was something about its placement that screamed “hidden passage.” But he wasn’t about to test his theory without permission—assuming Bruce hadn’t already picked up on his curiosity through one of the many cameras likely scattered around the mansion.
Tom’s musings were cut short as he turned a corner and nearly collided with Bruce himself. Bruce stopped with the practiced ease of someone always aware of their surroundings, his piercing gaze locking onto Tom.
“Tom,” Bruce said evenly, his tone carrying just a hint of curiosity. “Something on your mind?”
Tom took a steadying breath. He hadn’t expected to run into him so conveniently, but maybe that was for the best. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Do you have a minute to talk? I’ve got several things I need to bring up.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow but gestured for Tom to continue.
Tom reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a plain envelope, extending it toward Bruce. “This is a list of things I’ve put together—what I remember most clearly about… well, about everything I know. Specifically, about the Light.”
Bruce took the envelope without a word, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked over it briefly.
“I figured you’d know what to do with it,” Tom said, his tone serious. “You’re the world’s greatest detective, right? I don’t have all the answers, but I know enough to connect some dots. And if it helps fill in the gaps for the League—way earlier than it did the first time around—then it’s worth it.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Bruce’s gaze shifted back to Tom, assessing him. “You’re certain about what you’ve written here?” he asked, his voice low and even.
Tom nodded firmly. “As certain as I can be. I’m not claiming I know everything, but these are the things I’m most sure of. I trust you to figure out what’s useful and what’s not.”
Bruce studied him for another moment, then gave a single nod. “Let’s go talk.”
Tom’s heart pounded as he trailed Bruce down the hallway, trying to keep his expression neutral despite the growing excitement bubbling inside him. After days of speculation and walking past the grandfather clock in the main hall, he finally had the confirmation he needed. Unable to contain himself, he blurted, “Am I finally going to see it?”
Bruce glanced over his shoulder, his face impassive but his tone carrying a faint trace of amusement. “The Batcave is one of the most secure places in the world. Don’t make me regret showing you.”
Tom swallowed his excitement and followed Bruce into the study. He watched intently as Bruce moved to the grandfather clock, his movements precise as he adjusted its hands. A soft click echoed through the room as the clock shifted forward, revealing a darkened passageway.
Tom’s breath hitched as they descended the narrow staircase. The air grew cooler with each step, the faint hum of unseen machinery vibrating through the walls. As they stepped into the Batcave, Tom’s eyes widened, unable to suppress his awe.
The cavernous space was breathtaking, a perfect blend of natural rock formations and advanced technology. Massive stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping water into unseen pools below. Platforms and walkways jutted out at various levels, illuminated by the faint glow of computer monitors. The centerpiece was the Batcomputer, its multiple screens displaying streams of data, surveillance feeds, and schematics. Nearby, vehicles were parked in neat formation—the Batmobile gleaming under the harsh white lights, a sleek Batplane suspended above. Along one wall, suits stood on display, each representing a chapter of Bruce’s storied career.
“Holy…” Tom whispered, his voice trailing off. He couldn’t find the words to encapsulate the sheer grandeur of the space. “This is incredible.”
Bruce said nothing, his stride purposeful as he led Tom to the central console. He tapped a few keys, and the screens shifted, displaying what appeared to be a mix of Justice League files and internal Batcave records. Tom’s awe didn’t go unnoticed, though Bruce didn’t acknowledge it directly.
Without a word, Bruce picked up the envelope Tom had handed him and slid it into a sleek scanner embedded in the Batcomputer’s console. The device whirred softly as it processed the pages, each sheet appearing on the multiple monitors surrounding them. The handwriting—Tom’s own—was projected with startling clarity, every bullet point and diagram illuminated in stark detail.
Tom watched nervously as the data filled the screens, a mix of names, events, and observations meticulously cataloged. The Light’s key members, their ideology, connections to Cadmus, and the implications of the sixteen missing hours all came into focus. Bruce scanned the screens with a critical eye, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the information.
“You’ve done your homework,” Bruce said, pulling Tom’s attention back to the matter at hand. “What do you know about the Light?”
Tom exhaled, grounding himself in the moment. “I know the League is already aware of the Light’s existence,” he began, his tone measured. “You know the big players—Vandal Savage, Lex Luthor, Klarion. You know they’re dangerous and that they’ve been operating in the shadows for years. But there’s something critical you’re missing.”
Bruce turned to face him fully, his expression unreadable. “The sixteen missing hours.”
Tom nodded. “Exactly. You know there’s a gap in the League’s timeline, but you don’t know what happened during those sixteen hours. That gap… it’s the cornerstone of the Light’s plan.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
Tom took a steadying breath. “During those sixteen hours, the League was under mind control. The Light used Starro-Tech to take control of you and several others. Under their influence, you committed crimes—acts that were devastating enough to tarnish the League’s reputation on a galactic scale. That’s why the League will eventually leave this planet, to clear their names. But the Light orchestrated it all to create chaos, weaken the League’s influence, and give themselves more room to operate.”
For the first time since Tom had arrived at the manor, Bruce’s composure faltered—if only slightly. His jaw tightened, and his hands stilled over the keyboard. It was a brief lapse, but to someone as attuned to Batman’s demeanor as Tom had become, it was telling.
“That changes everything,” Bruce said quietly, his tone darker than Tom had ever heard. He turned back to the screens, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he pulled up files and cross-referenced data.
“It’s in the envelope,” Tom interrupted, gesturing to the packet he’d handed Bruce earlier. “I’ve outlined everything I remember—the key players, their methods, and the events I’m most certain about. I’m not asking you to take my word for it. But having a direction, knowing where to look—that should be enough for you.”
Bruce glanced at the envelope, then back at Tom. His sharp gaze softened slightly, though his focus remained intense. “You’ve given me more than a direction.”
Tom nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “That’s all I wanted. If the League can stop what’s coming, or at least be better prepared for it, then maybe this world has a shot.”
Bruce turned back to the Batcomputer, his hands moving across the keyboard with practiced precision. As the data from the envelope and Tom’s explanations filled the screens, his demeanor shifted. The Dark Knight’s intensity deepened, his focus narrowing as he began piecing the puzzle together. Tom watched as Bruce’s eyes darted across the monitors, correlating details, cross-referencing names, and overlaying timelines.
For a moment, it was as if Tom wasn’t even in the room. Bruce muttered under his breath occasionally, sharp phrases like “missing hours” and “Starro-Tech” punctuating the hum of the Batcave. His mind worked like a machine, every new piece of information locking into place with an almost terrifying efficiency.
Tom stood awkwardly to the side, the weight of the Batcave’s grandeur forgotten as he observed Bruce in action. He cleared his throat lightly, hesitant to interrupt but knowing he had more to say. “Uh, Bruce?”
No response.
“Bruce,” Tom repeated, louder this time.
The older man didn’t look away from the screens. “What?”
Tom hesitated, feeling small under Bruce’s relentless focus. “There’s… there’s something else I wanted to bring up.”
Bruce’s fingers paused mid-keystroke, and he turned slightly, his expression unreadable but his attention clearly divided. “Go on.”
Tom fumbled slightly. “It’s just… it’s not about the information in the envelope,” he began, his tone hesitant. “I’ve been stuck in the manor since I got here, and I was wondering if—”
“No,” Bruce interrupted immediately, his voice firm and unyielding as his hands continued moving across the keyboard. He didn’t even look at Tom.
Tom blinked, startled by the abruptness. “You didn’t even let me finish—”
“There’s nothing to finish,” Bruce said, his tone brooking no argument. He paused in his work just long enough to glance at Tom, his expression sharp. “You’re defenseless, Tom. You don’t have the skills, the tools, or the training to keep yourself safe if something happens.”
Tom clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not asking to fight crime, Bruce. I just want to go out, explore a little—get some fresh air.”
“And expose yourself to anyone who might see you as a target?” Bruce shot back. “You’ve already made it clear that your knowledge is dangerous. That makes your situation dangerous. You don’t think there are people—organizations—who’d want to take advantage of that?”
Tom frowned, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’m not exactly carrying a sign that says ‘kidnap me, I know secret stuff.’”
Bruce’s gaze hardened. “It doesn’t matter. You’re important, Tom. Too important to risk wandering around by yourself.”
Tom’s frustration boiled over. “So what, I’m just supposed to stay locked up here forever? I’m not some prisoner.”
“You’re not a prisoner,” Bruce said calmly, but his tone carried the weight of finality. “You’re a priority. And until you can protect yourself—or until I’m certain you can leave without putting yourself or others in danger—you’re staying here. End of discussion.”
Tom opened his mouth, frustration bubbling over into words he hadn’t planned. “What if I wasn’t as defenseless as I seem?” The statement hung in the air for a moment before Bruce could respond.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kaelith’s voice cut into Tom’s mind, sharp and biting.
Tom flinched internally but tried to mask it, keeping his focus on Bruce. “Can I not tell him about you? It’s not like it’ll make things worse, right? He’s just a man, and you’re… well, a super-powerful demon.”
There was a pause, and when Kaelith’s voice returned, it was slower, more measured, but still edged with irritation. “You’re not wrong about my power, darling. But I’d prefer it if you consulted me before sharing information that isn’t solely yours to give. This wasn’t part of what you planned to tell him last night, was it?”
Tom grimaced but didn’t respond to her. His hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by Bruce, whose sharp gaze locked onto him.
“Tom?” Bruce’s voice was calm but probing. “If there’s something you’re not telling me, now’s the time to say it.”
Tom exhaled, forcing himself to meet Bruce’s piercing stare. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself. “Remember when I told you I was brought here by some… entity?”
Bruce’s brow furrowed slightly, his silence urging Tom to continue.
“Well, it didn’t just drop me here and leave,” Tom admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It… did more. It shackled a demon to me. And yeah, I know how bad that sounds.” He paused, glancing away briefly before pushing forward. “It tied her to me for protection—specifically, to stop me from killing myself or getting killed. Mutual survival, I guess.”
Bruce leaned back slightly, his analytical mind clearly working through the implications. “A demon,” he repeated, his tone unreadable. “And you’re just now bringing this up?”
Tom shrugged, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, there’s a powerful demon living in my shadow’? I didn’t think it would help anything, and I’m not exactly in control of her. She only cares about keeping me alive because if I die, she does too.”
Bruce’s gaze hardened. “And you trust her?”
Tom hesitated, glancing inward. “Kaelith, you want to weigh in on this?”
“You don’t need my help to state the obvious,” she replied dryly. “But feel free to downplay how much I’ve saved your mortal hide.”
Tom sighed and answered Bruce directly. “I wouldn’t say I trust her, but she hasn’t hurt anyone, and she’s… been helpful. She’s sarcastic, infuriating, and keeps me on edge, but she’s also the reason I’m alive right now.”
Bruce studied him closely, his expression unreadable. “Where is she now?”
Tom tensed, his fingers clenching at his sides as he reached inward. “Kaelith? A little proof, maybe?”
“What am I, a performing dog?” she snapped, irritation lacing her tone.
“No, but don’t you want to stretch your legs? Get out of this mansion for a bit? This is a whole new world, and there’s plenty to explore. Besides, you’re more like a cat anyway.”
The silence in his mind stretched uncomfortably before Kaelith’s voice returned, low and venomous. “A cat? I’ve tortured mortals for centuries for less, darling. But fine. Just this once, I’ll humor you.”
Shadows around Tom’s feet began to shift, dark tendrils pooling unnaturally as Kaelith materialized. Her figure emerged with eerie grace, her sharp smirk cutting through the tense air. “Happy now?” she drawled, her gaze flicking between Tom and Bruce.
Bruce’s posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he assessed her. “You’ve been with him the entire time?”
Kaelith tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Every moment. He’s surprisingly tolerable—for a mortal.”
Bruce remained silent, his sharp gaze locking onto her. “And what are you exactly?”
Kaelith shrugged nonchalantly, her voice dripping with mockery. “A demon, as my dear mortal here has already explained. I’ve no interest in your world or its petty conflicts—unless they threaten him. In which case, you’d want me on your side.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. Kaelith continued, her tone gaining an edge. “I’m not here to be scrutinized or questioned. I only showed up to make it clear that Tom isn’t as defenseless as you seem to think. He couldn’t be safer with anyone else, and frankly, I don’t need your permission to take him anywhere he wants to go.”
Bruce’s expression darkened further, his silence growing heavier.
Kaelith’s smirk twisted into something sharper, almost predatory. Without another word, her form dissolved back into the shadows, the darkness coiling unnaturally around Tom’s feet.
“I’m done talking to your control freak,” her voice hissed in Tom’s mind. “Be grateful I didn’t reduce him to ash.”
Tom winced internally but said nothing, his gaze flicking back to Bruce, who was still staring at the space Kaelith had occupied moments before.
“I don’t like her,” Bruce muttered, his tone low and cutting.
Tom sighed, attempting a weak joke. “How do you think I feel?”
Bruce’s intense glare snapped to him, silencing any further attempts at humor. Tom shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for keeping that secret,” he said sincerely. “But that’s the last one. I swear, no more surprises.”
Bruce studied him for a moment longer, his sharp gaze unwavering.
“Wait,” Tom blurted, holding up a hand. “I should also probably mention that she’s teaching me how to use magic.”
Bruce let out a massive sigh, his composure slipping for the first time as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, the exasperation clear in his movements. For a moment, he didn’t speak, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of the Batcomputer.
“Tom,” Bruce began, his tone unusually strained, “you’re proving to be far more complicated than I initially anticipated.”
Tom winced. “Uh… sorry?”
Bruce dropped his hand, his piercing eyes locking onto Tom’s. “You’re going to be a major talking point at the next League meeting,” he said flatly. “I’ll make sure of that. Between your knowledge, this demon, and now your magical training, you’re officially a wildcard in a situation that didn’t need any more variables.”
Tom opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it, sensing that anything he said would only make the situation worse.
Bruce leaned back slightly, his expression still intense but more controlled. “Good. But this doesn’t mean you’re free to leave. Not yet. I need time to process this and figure out what we’re dealing with.”
Tom frowned. “What’s left to figure out?”
Bruce turned his piercing gaze on Tom, the intensity of his stare enough to make Tom squirm in his seat. The silence stretched for a beat too long before Tom winced and muttered, “Yeah, stupid question.”
Bruce’s focus shifted back to the Batcomputer, his tone sharp and unyielding as he continued. “I’ll be calling in someone with experience in magic and demons. If she’s tied to you, we need to know exactly what that means—for you, and for everyone else. If she’s as powerful as you claim, the implications go far beyond what we’re prepared for.”
His hands moved purposefully over the console, pulling up files and cross-referencing data. “But that’s not all. I still have to comb through the information you’ve given me—every connection, every detail. If even half of it checks out, it’s going to require a full re-work of the League’s current plans. I need to prepare the League for that reality.”
Tom nodded reluctantly, retreating from the Batcave sensing the conversation coming to a close as Bruce lost himself to his research. As he climbed the stairs, he couldn’t help but think to himself, Maybe revealing I have a demon in my shadow wasn’t the best idea.
“What did you think was going to happen?” Kaelith’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts.
“At least I have no more major secrets from Bruce,” Tom thought back with a sigh.
“That’s one way to look at it,” Kaelith replied, her tone dripping with amusement.
Tom rolled his eyes but kept his thoughts to himself as he pushed open the door to the main manor. Whatever tomorrow brought, at least he’d faced the truth head-on—well, mostly.