Step one
"Have you heard? There's this new place in Crime Alley."
The street once knew a kinder name, Park Row. But any glamour or history of the long-standing locale that may survive the touch of time in this place would have long been defaced like the rest. Buried under layers upon layers of graffiti and rot, intertwining like tumorous growths.
Dim light oozed from odd angles, their sources flickering electronic signs and lamp posts that hung above. They did their job poorly, greedily drawing in whatever visibility left in their neon glow, while lengthening the shadows.
The sky was not visible here even with no roof to cover, it felt like being forced to stand in a narrow tunnel. Its walls leering down at you with every inch you take.
Just like he remembered.
From the shadows, monsters are born, he was no exception.
After all, this is where it all began for him.
Something in the murky black moved, an indiscernible dark shape lurching in its depth, moving forward, past the cracked concrete that spilled musty uncovered soil onto the streets, past the unsorted garbage bags of various dates that served as the only signs of human residence, past stagnant puddles of fetid rainwater, past the rodents, the strays and countless other misbegotten things the city saw fit to dump in this little crack among its many scars.
In other words, he was prowling through the single most typical example that can possibly be of Gotham's underbelly, an utterly mediocre back alley of an utterly mediocre ghetto neighborhood.
What a wretched place to die.
The shadow stopped, and it kneeled. All the guttural sounds of his city's dreadful nightlife, slowly but surely revving itself to life became nothing but static in his ear, for just a moment.
Gauntleted hands slowly traced lines in the concrete, made nonexistence to the harshness of the elements, yet to him, it may as well be seared in blood, just as fresh as his memory.
In a flash, a man was lying on the ground, clutching his chest desperately even as he bled out on the ground.
In a flash, a woman screaming in grief for her loved one was silenced forever, her body fell over her husband.
And the boy who saw it all happen, Bruce Wayne, held out a bouquet that will soon wilt, gripping the thorny white roses as if he expected to feel the sting through his armor.
It's been so long…
Seconds passed but felt like hours until he finally stood. Batman did not pray for forgiveness, nor did he offer words that would serve their true final resting place better. He simply promised… Or at least told himself so.
It all began in Crime Alley, and every single year he reminds himself to see it until the very end.
The Dark Knight of Gotham stood to his full height, an imposing dark figure that has struck fear in men both lesser and greater began his patrol anew.
And he's not alone.
With a barely audible hiss of cables, his cape flapped downward as the bat almost flew to the nearest building, perching on its roof in little relief from the oppressive alley space; And very aware of the yellow and black blur landing a few steps behind him.
"Hey, Bruce." A young voice chirped.
"Robin," Batman stated simply "you're late."
Explain.
Dick Grayson, his sidekick Robin, simply smirked at the harsh tone, with the domino mask he wore, the gesture game out as much more expressive than Batman's cowl-like vestment. Something the young hero liked to use to the fullest extent.
"Well, got caught up in some gossip, nothing much," Robin answered, flipping his cape back to a more casual position, proudly displaying the red of his bodysuit and the yellow of his emblem.
The disapproval of Batman was not something that needs to be verbally communicated.
"Buut…" The Robin quickly added, not at all actually as alarmed as his words may suggest "It's something that we should be interested in.
"Basically, have you heard? There's this place in Crime Alley, called themselves Chaldea."
"Aaaaand… It's a soup kitchen?"
The cold autumn night offered no response, except for the winds and Batman, neither of which are vocal.
Robin did not mean for that to come out as a question, but in his defense of all things he was expecting to happen today, this was not it.
Whenever something in Gotham is mentioned in the same breath as The Crime Alley, it's a not very subtle way to say the conversation is going into dark places. More than a shoddy, unkempt downtown, Crime Alley seemed to have made itself an urban legend.
The gist of it was that this place tends to suck, there are good men and women living here, some just trying to bore through the bad hand they've been dealt with in life and raise a family, or even doctor Thompkins actively doing good in her own way. Unfortunately, those tend to get buried under the mountainous weight of negativity that has built up for far too long.
It was kinda depressing in a way that he almost preferred if they discovered a drug den or something similarly illegal, those kinds of things he knew how to deal with, but this?
Again, there's a soup kitchen in Crime Alley, who does that?!
And it looks kinda okay?!
Unaware of the vigilante duo watching over them from a higher vantage point, more people than he ever thought would see together around this part of town milled around a simple, featureless building. He gave the area an estimate of 2,000 square feet, generously so.
Though it was well kept for sure, not an especially high bar around these parts, but rather than standing out the structure felt more… built on, like it was always standing and just now got repurposed to fit its new role. That made it less intrusive somehow, drawing in visitors with a strange sense of familiarity, which he guesses would be the point.
The seatings and tables are quaint little things, foldable chairs are used exclusively as far as he can tell and the tables aren't that far off, being the trusty lightweight rectangle on sticks that they are. They were liberally used to form seatings rows in the main building, spilling onto the outdoor lot next to it to accommodate the sheer numbers of occupants.
And boy, did he mention that there was a lot? Like, dozen lots!
Some were just as bewildered as he is, but others made themselves comfortable in their seats, many more the waiting line, people in thick patchworks of clothes against the chilly late autumn nights, the young and elderly all huddled together at the promise of a free warm meal.
A morbid thought seized him then, that how many of them here have and would be more than willing to dirty their hands with other means for the same thing, sometimes even less so. One he did his best to squash but still left a frown on his face.
And yet…
Despite the cold, and despite being between standing in the steady line, sitting under the open sky, or even feeling the wind through wide-open doors, the people down there didn't seem so… cold.
A scant few were smiling, the old with wheezing laughs from unheard gossips, and the young with cries of delight, playing around with the rare burst of energy from a full meal, men and women falling in with the slow rhythm set by the serving staff giving out platters of steaming hot porridge with seamless efficiency.
It looked, and more importantly felt normal, like there's nothing wrong with throwing something so big in one of the most infamous locales in Gotham.
"This is not normal." Bruce, ever the voice of cold reason spoke. Gee, thanks, Bruce.
Charity was not an alien concept, even in Gotham and even those that are not the Wayne Enterprise. Robin likes to think it's one of the small things that make the city still worth fighting for, but he also knew the practicality of it.
The lower things get the more important it becomes to do something to improve it, some do it out of obvious obligation, but there are always the few that seek an opportunity to improve their image, companies, corporations, even those who think of themselves above the law, ask Al Capone.
The problem is, you either need to be crazy or stupid brave to try it in these parts, while most of it is hyperbole, there are truly sinister forces at play here in Park Row, unseen by most.
For one reason or another, most of the criminal players have their grubby little fingers around the allegedly cursed streets, either as easy pickings for territory expansion or as something akin to safe haven to set up a base of operations free from the eyes of the law, which seemed to have forsaken this place.
The result was several big players constantly glaring at one another, occasionally making some token effort to gain a foothold, only to be ganged up on by the rest.
The idea of opening a public service was one of the newer ones made by Penguin of all people a while back. In theory, it would look good, sway the people to his side, get the press attention, and insert the platform for him to waddle on and take over the rest.
In practice, it was vandalized before the end of the week by multiple factions like a pack of piranhas as the smell of blood, leaving the locals to simply scavenge the rest.
It's stagnant, it's stupid, and it's why they can't have nice things. Even with all his influence and money, someone like Bruce couldn't venture too close to this place without stirring the hornet's hive.
For this Chaldea to not only survive, but apparently thrive underneath their nose is beyond feasible, it's downright suspicious and unfortunately didn't bode well for their intentions.
"So… Anything you got on them?" Robin asked, observing the Chaldean logo proudly displayed on the side of the building. It was painted on with standard black paint on the grey bricks, a flowing letter C resembling a crescent moon, framed by two laurel branches like a wreath, it marked the only catching thing about the facility physically.
"No," Batman replied curtly, he then tapped the side of his head, initiating the unseen comms unit. "Alfred?"
Robin hummed, leaving his mentor to his unheard exchange with the old butler, the boy wonder instead chose to observe the masses below, listing off further what he could make out.
First, they seem to have come prepared, huge pots were constantly replenished from the kitchen hidden in the back, all freshly heated and boiling hot. Robin wagered that they would be able to feed most, if not all, of the people here at that rate.
Second, there were two types of jobs for the staff, the majority of them did the heavier part, taking rotating turns hefting out the pots, and serving the soup. Most were able-bodied men, but he spotted some strong women in the group, though that wasn't surprising. What was, would be the presence of a few that instead of doing the meaty gritty jobs seemed to split off to guide people into lines and to empty seats.
Nothing outlandish, but worth noting.
And third, they allowed takeouts, that's neat but Robin questions the decision, wouldn't someone easily return empty-handed later and simply claim that they haven't had any?
What is Chaldea, really?
"A small humanitarian organization that was founded six months ago, known for volunteering in the relief effort of natural disasters and supervillain attacks worldwide, however, gained very little publicity and very recently moved headquarters to Gotham, location unknown, funding unknown, board of directors unknown." Batman then chooses to say, as if to answer him, thanks, Bruce.
Then Robin paused, processing what he just heard, "That's a lot of unknown."
The dark knight turned to look at him, and at that moment Robin can see the white-eyed visage of the bat narrow into the only expression it knew, grim focus. "Too much."
"Oh..." Robin sighed, standing up from a crouch and stretching his limbs. "So this means further investigations are needed, I take?"
Tonight was surprisingly uneventful, but alas, it wouldn't last it seems. With any hope though, this would wound up as a quiet investigation for once and no fight would break off.
Hopefully.
Just then, something crashed and clattered, putting a screeching halt to his thought as the sound of aluminum scraping against concrete broke through the tentative tranquility much like the alley's infamous gunshots.
He was on the fifth story, they both were, but even Batman snapped to attention at the commotion because it was simply very loud in just all the right way to land between obnoxious and startling.
Whatever levity left slid off his face.
"And would you look at that," Despite how much he tried to control his breathing, Robin felt his teeth clench against his jaw, forcing his words out in sharp edges.
Having been working with the caped crusader for a long time now, Robin has witnessed many forms of crimes, from the pitiful to the absolute abhorrent. Bruce may not show it, but he did try to shield his younger charge from the worst brunt of them, it's a way to say he still cared.
However, Dick Grayson was forced to mature faster than most, more than a few close brushes, and one failure too much at the hand of a two-faced madman.
He knew the risks, and he knew what he has and will see less than wholesome things in his career, things that will haunt him for many years to come. It's just that nothing would be surer to rile him up, despite how small it may seem in the grand scheme of things.
His eyes lingered on a trio of burly men, taking a second to note their expensive-looking suit before categorizing them as non-threat lowlives who just happened to be under a larger gang, glorified goons for all intents and purposes basically.
The aftermath was what caught his attention, a dented pot lied on the ground, the slurry, viscous former content splashing a huge chunk of the patrons, sending both into the cold dirt, some even clutching their scalded limbs in muted hisses of pain.
An accident like that was sure to catch attention, and the little cheery mood around the area died a slow death when they realized it was anything but that. The kitchen staff rushed to check on the scene, but no sounds dared to interrupt the baleful laughter of the men in dark suits.
If Robin strained his ear, he could even hear it.
"Oops." One goon said, leg still to make the fake guilt all more mocking. "I slipped."
"Yeah, our bad." The second cackled, already all too eager to play up with the act. He took one step forward and preened when the masses pushed against each other, clattering dinnerwares and pushing over chairs and tables to avoid him. "But from the looks of things, you all should be thanking us, who knew what would've happened if the actual bad people were here, none of you folks here look like you were prepared to do jack shit."
Most didn't meet his gaze, many were already leaving, preferring hunger to what is to come.
"Consider this a wake-up call, people." A third spoke loudly, announcing the event and making it painfully public. "You'll need the big boys to step in sooner or later, and it just so happens that we-" At this point, Robin have had 200% too much of their nonsense and tuned out the rest, he felt heat rise in his chest and up to his throat, and knew this was the part where he acted.
Racketeering for "protection" was a common, sordid practice of any organized criminals, it's the way for high and mighty jackasses to both leech off the sweat and blood and parade their superiority over those without the power to resist, sickly coated in the stupid excuse of "keeping the peace" that they would be all too happy to do squat to actually uphold.
It was extortion in all but name, the former Flying Robin has a special place in his shit-list for those kinds of people.
Robin jumped, fist already cocked back and sailing, in his mind's eye he can see him wiping that stupid smirk off their face along with a couple of teeth, courtesy of a gravity-aided haymaker.
Only, it didn't happen, the wind didn't catch his cape, and his fist did not feel the crunching of flesh because something else caught his cape and halted his dash, throwing his entire momentum against himself and pinned the hero back to the ground.
"Bruce, what the actual hell?" Robin tried to wrench his cape from the older hero's vice grip, to little success. He twisted and turned and tried to get up but found little leverage, feeling like a leashed animal.
In complete contrast to the bubbling emotions in his ward's chest, the dark knight held a steady look of cold pragmatism, he stared at the still struggling Robin straight in the eye and simply said "We observe."
Oh, so that's how he wanted to play it, now of all times huh?
Robin stared at him, disbelievingly then sucked in a breath to forcefully smother his anger, he knew his guardian knew better of course, but would it kill to not be such a hardass for once?!
"There are people down there, people who likely came here to do good despite how suspicious this gig is here, people that can use some help, Batman."
Robin smirked when Batman's eyes narrowed - trust in him to be the few to know how to get under the senior vigilante's skin - but still, he did not relent. "Robin, be rational. They likely would've dealt with countless similar cases here, we would learn far more from observing than interfering."
Aw crap, Robin didn't actually have anything to argue with that, he didn't stop, and neither did Bruce release him, but he slowed to consider the validity of those words.
Being a hero is about making the right choice, maybe his feelings are not what needed here-
Once again, a loud noise pierced the night and the veil of his thought. But this time, it was not something as mundane as cooking utensils, it was the sound every human born in the 21st century knows to fear, the roar of a miniature explosion, of hot lead, and most importantly, of weapon meant to kill.
A gunshot rang below, Robin detached his cape and, ignoring the protest of Batman who stumbled from the lack of resistance behind his back, leaped down below with a running start.
Into the heart of the action.
What he found may surprise him.
"-so let us meet the owner of this fine establishment, and we can all end this peacefully-"
"No."
The tallest dark-suited thug who seemed to just love his own voice finally choked on it, he spluttered in surprise before regaining his composure, glaring at the perpetrator, all traces of masked pleasantries gone. "Care to repeat that, buddy?"
"Gladly, No means no."
The casual admittance from the dark-skinned kitchen staff shocked all of their three shared brain cells into silence, the man himself did not dignify them with his answer, back turned to tend to one of the affected patrons.
He was a big man, with muscles barely hidden under two layers of clothes, a black jacket over a white ribbed sweater, and similarly dark jeans. But the pair of glasses he donned and the bright pink apron he wore proudly softened the edges of an otherwise imposing presence.
Steely grey eyes scanned over the middle-aged homeless man with a few nasty-looking red welts on his wrists and hands, blending in with a few callouses, it was likely going to hurt in the morning. He rolled down the man's long shaggy jacket sleeves and stated in an even tone "I'm going to need you to remove your jacket sir, I'm going to give some first aid, then treat your wounds before the night is over."
The bearded man looked at him with doubt and many other things churning in his mind before slowly compiling. Then the tanned cook turned to the crowd, many of which are looking at him like he just grew a second head. "Can any of you get me a water bottle?"
"Oi."
A few actually scrambled for one, but responses range in the negatives, he shook his head slightly and discreetly pulled one melting chunk of ice from somewhere unseen that suspiciously look like a crude blade of a sort, then pressed it against the burnt part of the older man's skin, much to the impromptu patient's relief.
"Oi!"
He looked around, seeing a couple more people in a similar but less severe state, one a teenager with a few splotches on her feet and leg, and another a child with a bit on his forearm and elbow. They were much more abled and already applied water to the burn, smart kids.
"OI!"
"Remember to check those up with Miss Florence you two, she should be somewhere in the backroom; And sorry for the inconvenience." He called out to them and received nervous nods back in return before they quickly darted away one by one, leaving him with the homeless man.
A hand clamped on his shoulder, pitifully applying pressure but finding no grip, not that anyone realized that, one party being too red-faced pissed off beyond reasons to care and the other simply not giving any in the first place.
Fine, he guesses there are the three stooges there too.
The hand tried to pull him to his feet, failed, and was about to try again anyways but he spared it that and prompted the patron to sit leaning against a fallen chair before standing up himself. "I'll be right back."
"Yes, may I help you?" with the corner of his eyes, he regarded the thug who now had pupils the size of pinpricks from repressed anger; And, feeling like he could use the clear head, the cook also thought to undo the thick hairnet he wore, revealing a mane of ashen white hair completely out of his age.
"You think you're hot shit, huh?" The corner of the scar-faced gangster's mouth twitches uncontrollably between a frown and a manic grin, his cohorts aren't very far behind, but they at least retained enough rationality to look hesitant at the single man's apparent strength, if briefly.
Not that it mattered, the mouthy one was talking "Some kind of goddamned hero?"
"Of course not," He flashed a very brief and dry smirk. "It's just that you're not the first idiot to come scurrying here and demanding our leader, and I doubt you'll be the last." He shook his head ruefully, just slow enough to make it clear he's being as condescending as possible.
But he did fully look at the thug for the first time, fixing the slightly taller brute with a hand still on his shoulder with a dispassionate stare. "You aren't special, and I can assure you that none of you or your friends here are welcomed here any longer, kindly get lost."
"Why you little-!"
That was the last straw, the suited mafia saw only red, and with a cry of rage thrust his free hard straight at the bespectacled man's face, between his eyes.
Many in the crowd screamed, the steel of a switch knife made itself known with a deadly glint.
The gangster quickly lost all colors from his face, realizing what he's done, he tried to move his arm but found that his input failed him to a steely grip.
At first, he grunted, then he yelled in pain as the massive hand wrapped around his own increased its crushing grip. Forcing the big man to let his switchblade clatter to the ground, then himself to one knee as the pain yet intensified.
"Thank you, Kintoki." The simple kitchen worker said, unbothered by the blade that was caught inches away from possibly being driven into his skull.
"No problem, dude." And the intervention, a giant of a man simply chuckled nonchalantly, but his voice was deep with just the barest hint of a growl.
He simply appeared behind the cook as if summoned, and now stared down at the gangster now whimpering in his grasp, eyes hidden behind a pair of shaded purple glasses and a heavy frown.
If the gangsters were dressed like the typical mob stereotype, this man was proud to be called a delinquent on steroids. The white button front and gold streaked trousers he wore did a poor job in containing his physique, which brought to mind a Greek sculpture, or the notorious Bane if all his muscles were compressed to a human frame.
Silence came, filled by the sounds of pain and the brief whistling of autumn breeze that lightly flickered his strands of platinum golden hair, done in a bob cut.
Then, unceremoniously Kintoki released the perpetrator to let him collapse on the ground.
"So, we can do this the Golden way, or the hard way-"
"GET HIM!"
Spurred by the sonorous war cry of their peer, the two other dumbfounded men moved into action, one stood back while the other chose to screw everything and go in with fists swinging.
The man with white hair casually walked out of the incoming brawl.
"How do you like this!?" The criminal threw a right hook, "And some of these!" Then a left, "And one of THESE!" with each swing landing invigorating him little by little until he landed no less than five hits on the golden stranger's face.
But quickly fell when he felt each hit sting much like punching the metal Kintoki's hair resembles.
"Nice." At the sixth, Kintoki caught his fist with a smirk full of sharp teeth, and the other man's face quickly fell in horror when the Pressure came crushing on his knuckles. "But this is the end of the line for you."
Another fist came swinging in desperation, he caught that too, and the goon with a light stubble started sweating. "Parlay?"
"Nope."
"Son on a bitc-AAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Watching from a distance, the aproned man felt a small pang of pity for the fool screaming himself hoarse, though ultimately shrugged and threw it aside. He turned to the last man standing, one looking increasingly agitated as the situation dawned.
"So, you're going to do the smart thing and scram now? You aren't scaring anyone here, and whoever you're working for obviously did a poor job of appearing tough if they're sending you three." He said, deciding to give the fool a branch of olive.
His dignity is beyond saving, already the crowd around them were much less afraid and more intrigued, a few with the condition were even filming with their cheap phones and camera.
But their bones may end up not fractured if they decide to be smart.
"Damn you." The cornered crook shouted, he looked around frantically, coming to the same realization. "Damn you, Damn YOU!"
So, people tend to do stupid things when they're cornered, and this idiot decided to pull out a pistol and clumsily cocked the trigger. "Let's see how you like some lead for dinner-"
Archer decided he had enough of stupid for one night.
A silver streak shot out from his hand, nailing the criminals' knuckles with bone-shattering force. He screamed further obscenities but managed to pull the trigger just enough even if the aim had been shot down to hell.
Not that it would do him any good.
A muffled bang resounded, sending many people cowering for cover from the gunshot, but not all. Some already knew everything was over the moment they switched to firearms.
"What in the hell." In shocked fear and awe, the criminal goon looked at his gun, now completely engulfed from the barrel by a hand that has no right to belong to a human.
It was red, the color of smelting hot iron with equally steely veins bulging at every minute movement, just being near it made him sweat in this chilling weather and the steam emitting from it confirmed that it was simply no joke, it was the heat to sear flesh.
And most importantly, it just snuffed out a 9 mm caliber bullet before it could leave the barrel like some sort of gnat.
Then it flexed, very minutely, and immediately folded his weapon and the bullet into disfigured scrap metal with the same ease one may use to mold clay. The Kintoki that hand belonged to did not look happy, not in the slightest.
When did he move? The goon blinked but would never know, he barely even heard the next words.
"That was not very Golden of you."
Spittle flew as a blow landed against the offender's unguarded gut, he keeled over from the pain but not knocked out; Which only exposed him to being wrangled by the neck into a one-armed headlock.
One he shared with his two friends, whose faces were already a shade of purple from the chokehold.
"Uncle - Uncle - Uncle!"
"*Suffocating noises*"
"Welp, that's that over and done with." a dark-skinned Archer sighed, he kneeled down again to meet eye level with the homeless man from earlier. "Thank you for that ladle pass by the way sir, I would've grabbed a kitchen knife."
The bearded hobo chuckled faintly with the morbid joke, then stood himself up with the help of the cook. "Anytime lad, though I had a feeling you got it handled. So, you've got a Meta bodyguard?"
"More or less." He replied nonchalantly. "We would've ended it from the beginning, but many of us figured that showing these fools would let them know not to mess with us, maybe make the people feel safer, knowing that we can and will stand up to them and kick them down."
He scanned the crowd, seeing many already being guided back into order by his fellow staff, some will leave obviously, but their reputation will still stand strong as ever after this blows over.
Tonight was a rare inconvenience, but people will soon understand that no one messes with Chaldea.
With no effort at all, Kintoki swung his arm and sent all three tumbling asses over heads for the streets, where they scrambled for their footing and oxygen.
One stood up first, the one who had a knife. "Th-This isn't over you hear?"
Wow, he was wholly disappointed, the previous gangs weren't this persistent, were they?
"When the boss finds out about this, he-"
Steel cables whistled, and blur that was actually a masked teenage boy in a red and black suit swing-kicked all three of them in the jaw consecutively, sending a spray of broken teeth to the streets.
Seconds later, a pointy-eared shadow dropped from the sky.
Oh great, surprise visits.
It took less than two seconds for Batman to take in the situation, three seconds faster than Robin to realize that the thugs he kicked over like bowling pins won't be getting off the ground anytime soon.
Being decked in the face by an angry teenage boy right after getting off from a chokehold tends to do that to you, he supposed. Robin knew he should say he felt bad for their molars, but that would be lying, it felt liberating.
Batman may disagree though, Robin scratched the back of his neck, gearing himself to the heavy footsteps encroaching behind him and the berating he'll get. He saw enough in a few brief seconds of freefalling and parkour to pierce together the situation.
"Look Batman, I knew what you literally just said, but the risk I took was calculated and we both know -
"OW!" Robin cried out as a heavy blow landed against his back, almost sending him tumbling.
For a moment, he was afraid that Batman was really mad with him because that felt barely below a full punch.
The thing is though, Batman didn't sound anywhere as cheerful, ever.
"Hahaha! Golden performance out there little guy." With each laugh, the bear of a man with golden hair sent a slap on his back, each as powerful as Robin's mean right hook. "Really saved me the trouble of beating their sorry behind myself."
In spite of his vigorous training, is still a normal human teenager, and at the third slap he caught the man's arm and tried with some effort to push it away, the dude is built like Superman.
Robin almost felt like he did the thugs a favor by not allowing them to be folded.
"You're welcomed." He projected some confidence in his voice, but inside he just wanted to cough and wheeze. "Hell of a smack you got there though."
"Oh-uh, whoops." The big thuggish-looking man had the decency to be sheepish, he heaved his arm back and scratched his own hair with an awkward chuckle. "Tend to forget my own strength ya' know, but enough about that."
The blonde extended a hand in a shaking gesture, found a bullet still squished in his palm like a dead mosquito, flicked it off with a click of his tongue, and tried again. "The name's Kintoki, nice to meet ya."
Robin thoughtfully eyed the discarded projectile on the ground for a moment, confirming what he thought he saw earlier. He slowly raised his own comparatively smaller hand to reciprocate the gesture. "Likewise, and I'm Robin, may have heard of me."
He also thought Kintoki looked nowhere Japanese, but well, looks could be deceiving, and your country isn't determined by race nor lineage.
"Totally, and you do good work around here, I appreciate that." Kintoki gave an easygoing grin, lined with sharp teeth, not fangs, teeth. "So I take the other guy over there is this Batman I heard so much about."
His thumb jabbed behind him, straight at the still form of Bruce who was watching their interaction as a hawk, heedless of the hushes of the crowd once again gathering at their sudden appearances.
"Not much of a talker, is he?" Kintoki quickly glanced behind him, then tried to lean down inconspicuously with one hand around his mouth. "Do you think he's just shy?"
"Hrk." Robin snorted, shy and Batman got together as well as oil and water, but the image was something he admittedly would pay in money to see. "Maybe."
"Are you a Metahuman?" The gravelly voice of the Batman personally chose just then to speak, was it Bruce being his usual buzzkill self, or did he take offense to that, Robin did not know. "If so, then you are very unregistered."
"Oh gee, that's a hard one to answer. " Kintoki scratched his chin, Robin didn't want to say dumbly, but he didn't look so bright right then.
He faced the Batman, declining to go with a "Yes?"
It was not a good answer, Batman scowled further.
"To answer your question, he is indeed a Metahuman. But no, we did not register our metahuman, that didn't seem a necessity." A new voice spoke from behind Robin, deep baritone with confidence and posture.
It surprised him, which in turn made it all the more shocking, the white-haired man that appeared behind the boy wonder was very subtle without actively trying so.
"Until now, it seems."
He undid his pink apron and tucked away his glasses, and by then his eyes hardened in a way disturbingly similar to Bruce. "Emiya Shirou, I don't run this place, but if you want to talk then I'm your guy."
So all along he was playing right under those thugs' big nose, some people in the gathering got some short-lived chuckles out of that, at the expense of the three men still lying ass up on the ground.
Batman, as always, was indifferent. "What is your goal?"
"Isn't it obvious? Charity; The city needs every help it can get, we do what we do." Emiya cast a meaningful, but also fond look at the people around them. "Speaking of which, everything is fine here!" He said to the crowd.
People in the front did not move at all, more interested in the happening, but everyone else went back to motion, just like before, motivated by hunger first and curiosity second.
Robin did have to blink though, that ease in which people just… carry on after a near shootout was perplexing.
"You're doing charity by bringing along multiple unregistered metahumans in one of the most infamous areas of Gotham." Oh yeah, Crime Alley, a gunshot is a regular here.
"You're not wrong on both accounts." Emiya shrugged, many of the locals didn't react outwardly, they couldn't deny a simple truth.
Then he looked Bruce straight in his eyes, grey meeting masked white. "But tell me this, Mr. Batman, do you believe that nothing couldn't be done for the people here? They have homes and family like anyone else, nothing about where they come from will change that.
"They should've been given the help they deserve long ago, but the corruption wouldn't allow that, so even if it's not much, we can give ours."
The sentiment was appreciated, and his body language did not convey any falsehood, Batman was better at reading people than Robin so maybe he knew something, but he did think Mr. Emiya was serious, if not for the entire group then at least himself.
And Kintoki, he was nodding along so Robin took that as face value.
However, there was an underlying question there meant for Batman, one he answered unflinchingly. "Of course I care about the well-being of the people here, it's what I do. And I do it so no one will be endangered by any criminal element, the problem here is you are risking yourself and a lot of the people you're trying to help.
"What happened today was far from the worst way that could play out."
As harsh as that was, Robin shared it in a much less vocal way, no matter how noble the cause it wouldn't stop the worse of the scums.
But, Shirou Emiya instead smiled, like he knew something they didn't. "Well, that folds in nicely why we have Metahuman, then."
"Woooow! It's them Jack, real Superheroes!"
Batman never answered, he was completely cut off by a chorus of youthful cheers, like they just discovered something amazing.
Three mops of white hair poked from the wall of adults much taller than them, there were more children than that, all excited to see the rare sight of Batman in the public's eye. But whereas most hid their excitement behind timidness, the three up front were as open as books.
Were they sisters? Robin didn't know but they felt close as sisters at around the same age of eight or ten and looked even closer in appearance, all three have silvery-white hair and are dressed in black and white with very light shades of magenta.
"Wow..." One was a soft-spoken girl in a frilly dress, and she was as pretty as a doll with just as many bow ties as it would take for the purpose. Of the three, her hair was probably the longest, with two prominent braids and the rest in flowing locks almost reaching her knees, it made her feel very fluffy.
Her eyes, which were scanning over them reserved awe and wonder, were a light shade of amethyst. They were softer than most, which reflected on her demeanor, she looked definitely thrilled but didn't express it as strongly and only stared to an extent that is considered polite.
"Hehe, well what can I say, my reputation precedes me once again. Boy wonder and crime fighter extraordinaire, pleased to be of service." Robin chuckled with his hands crossed around his chest, trying to put on an air of cool.
As opposed to Batman who was never that much of a social butterfly in his persona and was watching the children circling him like a silent sentry.
"He's cool, they're so cool!" One, in particular, stood out, she was the most boyish of the three, but her voice was clearly female if very enthusiastic. Her hair was cut short, not even reaching her shoulders. And the sleeveless tuxedo she wore over gray shirts really did make her look more handsome than dainty; Her little necktie tied it up nicely too, no pun intended.
Though noticeably her shorts seem quite unsuited for the weather, sure she had some white thigh-high socks and those thick boots to keep most of her legs warm, but shouldn't she feel at least a little chilly?
Apparently unbothered, the girl ran laps around Batman first, surprisingly sharp emerald irises taking in every angle of the Dark Knight, then Robin, and lastly turned to Emiya.
"Hey hey! Archer mommy, do you know them? If it's yes can we play sometimes please?" She latched to his side and asked with such pure dazzling childish enthusiasm that he almost missed what she asked.
"Pleeeease?"
Almost, there are scant few reasons someone would call a clearly adult male "mommy"
Robin glanced at Emiya, then raised a contemplating eyebrow at the neatly folded pink apron he wore earlier. Huh, didn't know he'd swing that way.
"I can just tell you're thinking something weird, whatever it is please drop it." Emiya suddenly snapped towards him and said in an arid tone. "It's what she does."
"Hey now, I won't judge you know." Robin placatingly raised his hands with a weak smile, he guessed Emiya will have to face it when it happens.
Just then, a delicate hand tapped his shoulder, Robin perked up, saw nothing, then looked down slightly to find the last of the little group.
Her resemblance was strongest to the last girl, they had mostly the same length of hair save for one long ponytail that reached past her knees... And this odd tuff on top of her that stood upright in defiance of gravity.
Her dress felt neat like the tux, and she wore knee-high boots much the same, Though they obviously were much more girly.
What's with the head accessory though?
No seriously, Robin wasn't very in the know with the whole girls' fashion thing, but was it a trend for the kids to wear this metal forehead band thing? It was tied by two ribbons to her hair, and framed her eye and forehead kinda like an armored helm of a sort, with two cheery little bells. I did suit her though, so good for her.
"I-uh… Ahem." She fumbled for words at first, but even then it was hard to deny that her voice was like a chime, clear and even melodic. "If you wouldn't mind, may I ask for something, Mister?"
It was clear that she was the oldest one there, if not by height then by the maturity she displayed. Also seeing no reason to refuse, Robin answered easily "Sure thing, and no need for Mr, I'm not that old yet."
In response, a little notebook and a pen were presented to him on two delicate hands, she bowed slightly, averting most contact to her dark yellow eyes, except for the slightest peek from behind her bangs.
The First Robin hummed, which seemed to be a catalyst of sort as she started talking slightly fast. "I understand if this is a bit odd to ask for all of the sudden but we don't see Superheroes around often you see and I'd just thought It'd be, you know, pretty nice-"
"Of course." Robin jauntily took the notebook, giving his best smile when the little girl looked up in flustered joy. "What kind of Superhero I'll be if I leave my fans hanging am I right."
"Ah! No fair! Janta is taking our initiative!" The little tuxedo girl suddenly shouted in indignation, receiving urgent nods from her more silent maiden friend. "I thought we talked about this!"
The betrayer shrugged slightly. "Sorry girls, all is fair in war as they all say."
Wow, the little cheeky rascal.
"Now now, no need to fight." Robin chuckled at their antics, no matter what they really are, it cemented that these girls are at least very much like siblings to each other. "I'm not going anywhere you know."
Putting on a suave voice that was passed to him by Alfred, Dick Grayson added as he wrote "Herewith best regard from Robin, the rising star of Gotham. Now, to whom do I owe the honors?"
"My name is Jeannette, but yes, friends also call me Janta." The big sis said, her face dusted a little red.
"I'm Alice." The little maid answered. "Thank you for the consideration."
"We are Jack." The boyish girl said simply, now circling all around him again, that girl was so quick on his feet he'd thought her favorite hero was The Flash.
"Well then, Janta, Alice, Jack." Robin finished with a little bit of a flourish, then folded the notebook and handed it back to them. "I believe this is for you."
Jack jumped and caught it before any other could move, she held her prized trophy high above her head with a victorious cry of "Yes!"
"Jack!" Janta protested as once, now on the receiving end of a surprise turnaround, she herself became flustered.
"All in war is fair Janta!"
"That's not how it goes and you know it, get back here!"
"Jack, that's not nice," Alice said helplessly, falling in step behind the slightly taller girl in pursuit of the thief.
"Hey what about me?!" Far from being forgotten, Kintoki lumbered into the scene, somehow with quite a few other children hanging to him like a muscular monkey bar. "I thought you said I was the coolest the other day."
"You're still cool Mister Gold, but they're Super Heroes, that means they're Super Cooler." Jack, still on the run explained simply, leaving Kintoki devastated with the impeccable logic. "Plus they have cool capes."
"Aw shucks, guess you just have to settle for being second best this time around big guy." Robin tried to put on a sympathetic voice and tapped the guy on his side, but the smile he couldn't wipe off his face. "You heard what they said, I have the cool cape."
Well, had, Batman is still holding his black-yellow cape when Dick detached it, but it wasn't that important-
His cape hit him in the face.
"That's enough of that, Robin." Wow, this somehow sets the new record of mood kills Batman has made in a single night, and that's saying something.
"Hey, now Batman." Robin muffled, pulling out the special fabric and clipping it to his back. "I know you're not the type to sidetrack easily, but are you really telling me you'd say no to those kids? They're literally objectively adorable."
"Admittedly, I'll probably not." Batman relented.
"HA!"
"All three of them are also Metahumans, suspicious ones at that."
"Wha?"
From the side, Emiya, sensing where they were heading with this conversation, called out to the girls "You all go play elsewhere, we have grown-up things to talk about here."
'"Kayy!"' They all chorused.
"Everyone! Look what we got!" Jack declared, showing the prize still in her possession for all dozen children to show off to, they soon hurried away after her wake and out of earshot.
"Should I go too or-"
"Yes, Kintoki," Emiya instructed.
"So." Robin watched the golden giant leave before turning back, what was Bruce trying to say here?
"That girl, Jack. She has multiple old injuries on her face, one two-inch cut over her left eye, a two-and-half cut with signs of requiring surgical suture on the right side of her face, near the chin. I would like to say that it's caused by accidents, but that's entirely too hopeful, would it."
The Dark Knight stared at Emiya again, prompting him to answer.
He didn't seem happy about it, but rather resigned. "She was born in the slums of London, a street urchin for all intents and purposes before we found her, and unfortunately, no." Emiya shook his head ruefully. "Those injuries were not kind."
That gave Robin pause.
He looked into the distance where the little girl who likely tasted steel on a dark decrepit back alley street not much different from the ones in Gotham blood staining her face and crying for a mother that would never come because she was left to die-
He found his teeth grinding together, it seemed to snap things to focus, there was only the cheerful, if tomboyish girl playing with her friends, a bright-eyed young kid who just asked for his autograph.
They couldn't be more different, and yet one the same.
Good Lord, and he never even realized... Grayson just thought those marks on her face are some sort of birthmark or stains. He tried again to lift his thought, but each attempt sent it down further, and further down.
Bruce said she was a Meta, he didn't for a second doubt statement, but the implications spill forth. Was it from birth just right before she was cast into the streets, was it simply the trauma and stress that triggered the dormant gene, was something done to her.
...Did it somehow connect to how she wore something that exposed her legs like that? What if her scars were more than physical?
The thought of what he didn't know made him sick, frightened him.
Some of that inner tumor must have shown, because Emiya's sharp gray eyes softened in empathy. "If it helps, you should know she's a strong girl that took care of herself, everyone feared her, not the other way around."
"Yeah..." Robin only replied with half the spirit he had. "Sure."
It helped a bit, knowing she was, for what it's worth, unscathed.
But it didn't stop, his face fell further and further, because no matter the answer, a good resolution for this situation was impossible. If what Emiya said was true "So instead, she hurt people, did she?"
"Unfortunately."
Silence.
If the scowl on Robin's face was bad, the one on Batman was thunderous. "Then why is she here?"
Robin flinched at his mentor's severely harsh tone, but didn't have the heart to disagree.
But Emiya Shirou did. "Because what she's done is the past, from a different circumstance which has already been dealt with accordingly, or are you suggesting that she is put under surveillance, or even... Trained as a child into using her gifts for even more conflict?" His voice matched every bit of steel on the Caped Crusader, unyielding meeting unyielding.
There was a time for a hidden barb, this was definitely not even subtle in the slightest.
"My charge was a special case, but don't believe for a second that I condone forcing children into this life. But do you expect me to take your words, just like that?"
Despite solid glare directed at him, Emiya just... smiled genuinely "Good, I'll really hate you if you did."
His shoulder relaxed, and even Robin felt a pressure spurring his fighting stance on unknowingly dissipate, his fist unclenched with some effort, and the young superhero breathed.
"I'll tell you, Mr. Bat; What Chaldea stands for right now, so it's up to you to believe it or not."
"There are hundreds - if not thousands - of people in every corner of the Earth using their strange power for their own ends, be it good or evil. The truth of the matter is that if we send a dozen more people into the fray, we won't change anything.
"And not everyone with power wishes to use it simply for the sake of it, and our talents won't define what we will do, who we will become. We and our misfits are going to stay right here, and help the little people because no one is going to do it better than us, and most importantly because that's what we want to.
"Our Commander is no stranger to conflict, like some of us she has witnessed one battlefield after another and decided she was sick of it. We persevere now, not conquer; Chaldea is giving its people the chance to make a difference without their past shackling them."
"In essence." He smiled tersely. "You keep doing what you can do, and we keep doing what we can, if all goes well we'd barely notice each other."
His piece done, the man immediately turned around and started walking away, throwing a handwave behind his back. "Well, it was quite pleasant having you. But my duty calls." He picked up the folded apron and once again donned it himself.
The cook disappeared into the sea of people, leaving Batman and Robin relatively alone to stew in their thoughts.
"So." Letting the high altitude winds ruffle his hair once more, Robin began. "Got what you want to know, Bruce?"
"Hrnn..." Walking alongside him on the rooftops, Bruce grunted. "There is still a lot of unknowns, and every new unknown that appears in this territory is a disaster slowly waiting to happen."
Robin sighed, slumping slightly "I figured you'd say that." He wasn't surprised, just a little disappointed, not in Bruce, but… The truth of the matter.
"So what about Emiya? How much do you think what he said was true?"
Robin believed most of it, the man has the hardened air of a veteran despite his seemingly soft disposition, but he strikes him as the honest sort.
"Most of it actually, would be foolish to say something that can be verified false with a quick background check. But he was definitely letting out some details that weren't directly addressed, for reasons that we may not like." Batman answered factually, then deepened his frown.
"For example, I didn't bring this up earlier but that girl, Alice, all of her limbs are prosthetics, if surprisingly lifelike. I don't know how she came to possess them, nor how she needed them in the first place."
Dick Grayson stopped. "I... Didn't notice that."
God damn it, he ran a hair through his head, feeling the headache forming. He just thought she was wearing black gloves and long socks. If what they dug up about Jack was an indication, he dreaded to hear her story.
They were sweet kids, Jack in particular in spite of her apparent upbringing, and Robin desperately wanted to believe in the good and innocence he saw in those eyes, but at the same time, it was painfully difficult to rebuke Bruce's paranoia, especially when he was experiencing it first hand.
What about Jeanette, she seemed the most normal, but then again the glimpse at the unknown has tainted his hope with an edge of fear and uncertainty.
"Arrrrgh!" Robin really almost wanted to just tear off his lustrous hair, a soup kitchen open in Crime Alley but nothing is as simple as it seems. "What are we going to do now then?" he looked up to Batman and asked.
"Simple." The vigilante answered simply "We investigate, and someone I know may be able to give us a lead."
"Who?" Robin wondered.
"We're seeing her, right now." He said, then abruptly made a left turn and jumped off the building.
Robin didn't question and followed after him, taking a running start and hopping off. Flaring out his cape to break the fall and landing in a relatively nondescript, if hidden, corner of a street.
The place didn't look absolutely vandalized to hell, and to where Batman was walking to was a storefront that looked in relatively mint condition, the light within still shined warmly at the late hours, even though the doors seemed closed and the windows locked with steel blinds.
But then again, he figured a clinic is one of the few essentials that everyone needs no matter which walk of life.
Doctor Leslie Thompkins is a well-known name in the area, Robin didn't know she and Bruce had a connection, but thinking about it she did seem like the best person to ask, in a way she was Chaldea on a smaller scale; Being the only person with enough willpower and courage to open a service in Crime Alley.
Batman strode up to the clinic front door and pressed the doorbell, it chimed twice somewhere inside, and moments later there were footsteps and the undoing of some locks.
An aged lady greeted them, her eyes are bespectacled and all her hair has gone gray with the passing of years. It couldn't be said that time has been kind to her, but she seemed like the type of person who would take it in stride and dignity.
Her doctor coat was proper immaculate, and her steady but not unkind facial expression gave her image the added strength of character. She looks like she's old enough to be someone's grandmother, but more strict than tender.
In spite of the tall shadowy man standing at her front door with features very slightly illuminated by the light, her face mellowed when she met eyes with the Dark Knight. "Bruce? It's been a while, but odd time for a visit don't you think?"
Oh? Robin perked up at the name, so she's one of the few who knew his Identity? Dick can sense right there that there's history between them, maybe something similar to Alfred, but didn't speak up.
"It's… Been a while." Bruce - not Batman - said in his normal volume devoid of gravel. It was always a dissonance hearing him like that, but Robin guessed that was a sign of good faith. Bruce only talked like that in the cave. "I have something to talk about."
"It's about Chaldea isn't it?" Wow, right for the money, she's sharp. "Come in then, there's much to discuss."
"So, any idea that was that all about." He gruffed.
Emiya watched as the manhole cover spun in place, motion quite similar to the unscrewing of a bottle cap before it lifted completely, allowing the dim light to reflect off a pair of slitted yellow eyes and mouth full of crooked teeth, set in a smile.
"Ooh, you just got The Bat on you." His voice, while clearly male was hard to make out as human, likely by his own volition. Deep and guttural, it was more of a raspy bellow with the undertone of hisses from his namesake. "Expect your peaceful days to be numbered, he won't let go of something this big if he can help it."
There were deep chuffles of laughter from the reptilian man, it sent slight vibrations through the ground, and made the manhole cover crackle loudly.
"Why though? Mister Bat was shy but his friend was really nice." Jack chimed in, sitting on the cold ground without regard in an attempt to be eye level with the man in the sewers. "He even signed for us, see here Mister Croc?" She crouched low, showing off the precious trophy still in her hands to him with immense preening pride.
Then a flagpole came out of nowhere and flicked it out of her grasp, Jack cried out in panic, but already it was in the ownership of Janta. She smiled smugly, wiggling her index finger in a chiding manner.
"Rookie mistake Jack, rookie mistake; Oh! And that reminds me." She turned to the crocodile mutant, but instead of sitting down, she leaned slightly to try and meet his eyes, a feat which was harder said than done thanks to the positioning, which made her a bit bashful.
"Can you give yours as well, you and he are supposed to be rivals right? I want to show as many as I can to my friends and sisters."
Croc blinked, then sighed a thunderous exhale. "You know, no matter how many times this happens, I'll never get used to you kids." To emphasize his point, he ascended one ladder step further, forgoing one arm holding up the manhole color to balance it on his gray scaly head.
Both of his arms raised in clawing motions at the side of his skull, emphasizing one gnarly maw of teeth that can bite through steel, bullet-resistant scutes identical to that of the ancient reptilian predator lined wickedly sharp claws. This terrifying, unnatural union between a man and raw, primal reptilian musculature was closer to the realm of nightmares, but still is a very grim reality.
"Hello, cannibalistic monster lizard man here." He growled, "Does that not mean anything around here anymore."
Still expectant and innocently hopeful, the daycare trio all tilted their head slightly in confusion.
"Ah, sod it." He deflated like a caiman who got bitten in the tail and, extending one of his hands, he tried his best to take the notebook from her waiting ones.
"Balls, when was the last time I even wrote actual letters." He grumbled, painfully scribbling out a misshapen line of his chosen name that took an entire page.
The sight of a human in lizard skin writing on a booklet that looked tiny compared to him was an odd scene. But Emiya, watching all this happen like a Mother Hen simply chuckled "I reckon you quit it, what you just described isn't anywhere close to the worst things they've seen and done."
A brief look of morbid nostalgia crossed him but passed with a shake of the head. "Anyways, what's that about the Batman, and is it something we should be concerned about?"
"Oh him?" Croc shrugged, handing back a notebook this time to a prepared and cautious Janta, who took a signature that looked more like a doodle and read more like 'Cruc' with a beaming smile and a silent 'thank you.
He coughed, which sounds suspiciously like a crocodilian 'You're welcomed.
"So anyways, The Bat's a control freak, considers the entirety of Gotham his territory even though he condemned us for forming gangs, damn good at the job himself for someone so high and mighty. Anything that happens on his land, legal or otherwise must be known to him so it won't bite him later." He elaborated with some sarcasm at his enemy.
"Your little cheery group is basically everything he feared rolled into one, quick rise to power, unknown resources, and at least some implied inclination to go beyond the law. Be expecting him to be snooping around from now on."
"I see..." Emiya mused with a hand on his chin. "Well then, nothing we can't handle I think."
"Heh, only you people can say that." Croc gave a nasty grin full of ultrasharp molars.
"Thank you, Mister Croc; Here is your bento," Alice called out from beside him, who was sitting down much more elegantly, with her dress fanning out and covering her crouched legs. "Hope you enjoy it." She even gave along a small smile.
"Damnnit," He mumbled again, but nonetheless reached out a hand so the small dainty girl could put the relatively huge wooden box of food in his also relatively massive palm.
Even the croc cannot deny that good food was simply really good and infinitely easier to obtain than say, catching a mook off the streets.
"Just remember to return the box this time, please." Emiya reminded the scaled man, but deep in his eyes, he has lost that particular hope.
"Nope, what the Croc is given, the Croc keeps, and don't act like you can't just make them up and disappear, you freaky magic man." The mutant gave one last (Attempted) ominous chuckle as he descended once more into the depths. "See you bunch next dawn, if you all live to see it."
"Bye-bye Mister Croc." "Come again next time." "Awe you didn't even stay to Play."
The manhole clicked shut.
"Was that the fucking Killer Croc?"
"Yes," Emiya shouted for the sake of the new patrons. "He's a regular since day one, and quite polite too, so please treat him kindly, he's sort of a crippling introvert."
"Just because I'm down here doesn't mean I'm suddenly deaf jackass!"
"See." He added more quietly, earning some nervous chuckles from the people.
The atmosphere, for now, was maintained, but he did wonder what changes this will bring.
A/N
Now, you may wonder, what on Earth did this idea come from, and the answer may surprise you.
I have absolutely no idea.
Well, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, I think It's because I've read a bunch of DC superheroes crossover with Fate, and some of them has Chaldea in it, most of which are fine and dandy don't get me wrong, but they tend to stick to the fighting a bit much I guess?
I like the action, but then, my brain thought: Charity and wholesomeness (?)
So uh yeah, you can just understand that this Chaldea was launched unceremoniously from it's world line after whatever epic final battle that ensued, tired of the Lost Belts, they decided to settle down and did things at their leisure and no megalomaniac urge to turn the world upside down because they can.
To me, the essence of FGO is that the Heroes change the world, but just as much the world shapes them and their action within it. To overlook one is to cut away half the core of the story, I think.
People tend to give DC the shorter stick, and while I'm not a big DC fan, more of a Marvel lad, I don't think that's a good way to go for it, which is why I am getting Batman and many of his mythos as engaged as possible here, and I only hoped it worked out. I really don't want to just make the Chaldeans waltz in and flex on people y'know.
Things are vague purposely so don't mind that much, just know the Ritsuka of this Chaldea is a pretty chill but also experienced person.
As for the DC timeline, I guess this would be a little bit before Teen Titans, as Dick Grayson hasn't become independent from Batman just yet, with friction being shown in this chapter.
Though that said, I'm a mere casual peasant and not a DC expert, I have a tingly idea that many of the things I said will be oh so very wrong. So uh… If it's minor then just consider it an AU thing, if it's game-breaking then please tell me I guess lol.
As that is it, I don't intend for this to be a long thing per se, but there will be chapters after this such as some more exploration just on how they started and all that jazz, as well as some character profile on the side of Batman, so feel free to Favorite, Follow and Review if you enjoyed what I have created, and I will see you in the next one.
Sincerely,
The indominator.