Darkness. No… emptiness.

A warm, all-encompassing emptiness wrapped around Samuel's consciousness, cradling him in its vast silence. It wasn't suffocating—it was inviting. A place where thought and feeling dissolved into something pure.

And then—

Something.

A presence.

Something perfect.

Something ideal.

The only, true thing.

Samuel reached for it without hesitation, his entire being drawn toward its existence. It was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that ever would matter.

But the closer he reached—

The further it drifted away.

The distance between them stretched, impossible and endless, no matter how desperately he moved toward it. He could feel it slipping, slipping, slipping—

And then—

A voice.

Not a whisper. Not a roar.

A word.

Spoken like it had always existed inside him.

"Show me Thy Will."

Samuel's breath caught. His mind latched onto it, trembling with something he didn't understand.

Then, another voice—

Familiar. Grounding.

"Samuel!"

His eyes snapped open.

Metallic ceiling. Cold air. The steady hum of machinery.

The cave.

His chest rose and fell as his senses recalibrated. He wasn't in that place anymore. He was here. Back.

He shifted slightly, muscles aching. As his vision cleared, three figures stood by his bedside.

Aqualad.

Batman.

Red Tornado.

Two of them wore expressions of concern. The third, ever-expressionless.

"…You're awake," Aqualad said, relief evident in his voice.

Samuel didn't respond immediately.

He exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers, grounding himself in the now.

That dream…

That voice…

What was that?

The briefing room was quiet, save for the low hum of the overhead lights. Samuel sat in a chair, while Batman stood across from him. Red Tornado stood at his usual post, watching but saying nothing for now. Aqualad was the only other person in the room, standing at attention as Batman addressed him first.

"You did well securing the safety of your team and ensuring Kobra's capture," Batman stated, his tone firm but not unkind.

Aqualad gave a respectful nod. "Thank you, sir."

"However," Batman continued, "just because the results were acceptable does not mean your methods were sound. A leader's choices define their team. Every mistake you make, they will learn from, for better or worse."

Aqualad's expression didn't change, but he dipped his head slightly, considering Batman's words. "I understand. I will do better."

Batman gave a single nod. "See that you do. Dismissed."

Aqualad turned, leaving the room with his usual quiet discipline. The door shut behind him, leaving only Samuel, Batman, and Red Tornado. The Dark Knight shifted his gaze to Samuel, who met it without hesitation.

"You fainted after the explosion. The moment you used… whatever that ability was, a white blast engulfed the battlefield. According to the bodycams and your teammates, it knocked out four Kobra cultists, Shimmer, Kobra himself… and even Robin."

Batman's voice didn't change, but there was a weight to it that pressed against the room.

"It didn't kill anyone, but it rendered them unconscious instantly," Batman continued. "Robin has since recovered. No lasting injuries."

Samuel nodded, processing the information. "Good."

"Why did you use that ability?" Batman asked, his voice measured. "Did you know what you were doing?"

Samuel leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose. "I aimed to knock out Kobra. Or at least buy time until Yawn took full effect. My abilities… they vary, but none were suited to the situation. So, I used a random ability trigger."

Batman didn't react outwardly, but Samuel could already see the gears turning in his head—strategies forming, contingencies being calculated. He wasn't going to let this go.

"And you didn't know it would cause an explosion," Batman stated.

"No," Samuel replied simply. "I didn't."

Batman studied him for a moment longer before giving a small nod. "Understood."

Red Tornado, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "Robin is stable. His vitals show no long-term damage."

Samuel didn't respond, but he filed that information away.

"You may rest now," Red Tornado continued. "Your coordination helped stabilize the team during the mission. You performed adequately. However, a full report will be required—one detailing your mission actions, and another explaining your abilities in as much detail as possible."

Samuel gave a short nod. "Understood."

Batman and Red Tornado turned, exiting the room without another word. The door shut with a quiet hiss, leaving Samuel alone.

He exhaled, long and slow, then turned his thoughts inward. Metronome was too unpredictable, too dangerous. Even though it wasn't his intention, he had hurt people—teammates, even. Innocents. That wasn't acceptable. It wasn't something he could rely on, not unless the situation was truly dire. And even then… what if it happened again? Or worse?

For now, Metronome was off-limits.

His mind drifted to the voice from his unconsciousness.

"Show me thy will."

A dream, probably. Nothing more. But it felt… different. Powerful. Like something beyond the limits of his own mind. He had no way of proving if it was connected to his abilities, but he also couldn't dismiss the possibility entirely.

Just to clear his mind, Samuel pulled up his status screen.

No level up.

Not surprising. He had fainted before securing the win. A game mechanic, maybe.

It was a bit disappointing.

He shut the screen down, leaned back against the bed, and closed his eyes.

If nothing else, he hoped to dream again.

The past week had been… surprisingly tolerable for Samuel.

For one, the team wasn't trying as hard to interact with him anymore. The explosion incident must have left a lasting impression. They didn't avoid him outright, but the unnecessary friendliness? Gone. Which was a relief.

Well—except for Miss Martian.

M'gann still spoke to him more frequently than others, mostly because she had to. They both lived in the cave, and with Red Tornado and Superboy as their only other 'roommate,' keeping the place clean fell on them. She was efficient, diligent… and still a little too eager. Samuel had no idea why she worked so hard at trying to fit in. She was an alien. No one expected her to be normal. But she kept pushing herself for an unneeded goal.

Still, at least she didn't force him into conversations. She now understood times when Samuel wanted some time for himself.

The rest of the team? They were getting along better than before.

Especially after their latest mission—one that Samuel didn't actively participate in. He was just there to guide the civilians to safety. Apparently, the team had gone up against a villain called Psycho-Pirate, who had been attempting to steal plutonium. His real weapon wasn't brute force, but his ability to manipulate emotions. According to the reports, the villain trapped the team in their own worst fears and depressive visions.

Turns out, Samuel was also in range of that attack, but the results were… underwhelming.

The team had spoken about their visions, about how they had struggled to break free. But for Samuel? Depression and anxiety weren't some foreign, external force imposed on him. They were just there, in the background, like an ever-present hum in his mind. Not in an edgy, dramatic way—just as part of his thought process.

He constantly questioned everything. The ideal versus the unideal. The flaws of the world. The flaw of himself. His fears and the counterargument for those fears. Talking, talking, talking again and again inside of him.

So when Psycho-Pirate's ability hit him, he barely registered a difference. It was just another day inside his own mind. He actually didn't notice something was wrong and kept on doing his work to evacuate the place. All he felt was some extra depressing thoughts...but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

The mission had ended when Kid Flash managed to snap out of it first and took down the villain. Then, for whatever reason, the team had a warm and fuzzy bonding moment over the experience. Samuel didn't get it.

After that, things had been quiet. Samuel wrote his reports, attended school, and avoided unnecessary interactions. He wasn't required to go on patrols, and no one forced him into 'team bonding.' Everything was fine.

Until the training started.

The heat of August hung thick in the air when the entire team was summoned to the main hall.

When Samuel arrived, he immediately noticed Martian Manhunter and Black Canary waiting at the front.

M'gann perked up. "Uncle J'onn!"

Samuel had a bad feeling about this.

Not only was combat training not his thing, but something told him this wasn't optional.

The others arrived one by one, taking their places in the hall. Superboy, however, looked particularly angry. Understandable—he had just returned from Metropolis, where he'd been helping Superman save people from a collapsing bridge.

Their interaction hadn't gone well.

It never did.

Superman barely spoke to him, barely acknowledged him, and definitely wasn't interested in playing the role of mentor. Samuel didn't know much about the details, but from what he had observed, Superman's attitude toward Superboy wasn't so much hostile as it was distant. And it clearly bothered the kid.

Samuel glanced at Black Canary and decided to analyze her status.

Name: Dinah Lance
Type: Normal/Fighting
Ability: Punk rock-(Boosts the power of sound-based moves. The person also takes half the damage from these kinds of moves.)

As Samuel processed the information, he casually began stepping back, hoping to slip away unnoticed—

"Stick around," Black Canary called out. "Class is in session."

Samuel stopped.

So did Superboy, who had also been trying to leave.

Black Canary stepped forward, removing her coat to reveal a more practical, combat-ready outfit.

"Consider it an honor to be your teacher," she said. "I'll throw a lot at you… everything I've learned from my own mentors, and my own bruises."

Samuel's eyes flickered toward her arms. There were bruises—recent ones. Large, visible welts.

M'gann frowned. "What happened?"

Black Canary shrugged. "The job."

She then launched into her explanation.

"Now, combat is about controlling conflict—putting the battle on your terms. You should always be acting, never reacting."

Samuel half-agreed.

The idea of controlling conflict made sense. That was how he operated. Every time he had 'fought' someone, he had ensured they were vulnerable first, either by lowering their strength or making them unable to attack. But never reacting?

That was unrealistic.

Anticipating and reacting were crucial. There were times when he had used his moves preemptively, but more often than not, he waited, analyzed, then acted.

But arguing wasn't worth it. He would stay quiet, nod if necessary, and avoid attention.

"I'll need a sparring partner," Black Canary announced.

Samuel went completely still.

His best strategy was to not exist. Maybe if he stayed silent, she wouldn't notice him.

Kid Flash, of course, helped the situation with his usual manners. Taking all the unnecessary attention.

"Right here, yeah," Wally said, waving his hand while finishing a banana. "After this, I'll show you my moves." He winked.

Black Canary nodded him forward.

The match lasted about three seconds.

Despite his enhanced speed, Kid Flash barely had time to register what had happened before he was flat on his back. A single straight punch and a low sweep had taken him out effortlessly.

Samuel blinked.

That… was unexpected.

Laughter erupted from the others, but Superboy remained unamused.

Black Canary stepped back, addressing the team. "Now, what he did wrong was allow me to dictate the terms of—"

"Oh, please." Superboy cut her off. "With my powers, the battle's always on my terms. I'm a living weapon, and this is a waste of my time."

Black Canary raised an eyebrow. "Prove it."

Perfect.

Superboy had taken the bait. The attention was now on him, which meant Samuel could step back into the shadows and vanish.

The fight, however, ended way faster than Samuel expected. Again.

Superboy had size, strength, and speed. He was physically superior in every way. And yet—Black Canary effortlessly redirected his brute force against him, using his aggression to put him on the ground. She hadn't even used her Canary Cry.

"That's it! I'm done!"

Superboy yelled, frustrated. Everyone was looking at him with a bit of worry...this was the time for Samuel.

Samuel took this opportunity to step further back, waiting for the right moment. If he could get behind Aqualad's shadow and use Teleport—

"No, Samuel."

He froze.

Black Canary's gaze was locked onto him.

"Training is mandatory."

The others turned toward him, and suddenly, his escape plan crumbled.

"…?" He stared at her, silently protesting. She already beat up two kids. Did she need one more?

"Even for you," she continued, arms crossed. "You need to learn how to protect yourself, even with those skills."

Samuel said nothing.

"And considering… that—" Black Canary gestured vaguely, referring to the explosion— "Come here."

This was officially the worst day of the week.

Samuel stood almost right in front of Black Canary, arms at his sides, waiting. His expression was unreadable as usual, but inwardly, he was already calculating the fastest way out of this situation.

"This is unnecessary," he stated. "If someone gets close enough to land a hit, I'll probably just die. Or explode, depending on the enemy. There's no need for me to learn close combat."

"That's exactly why you should," Black Canary countered. "If that moment comes, you need to know how to at least survive it."

Samuel exhaled through his nose. His patience was already running thin.

Fine. He would just lose quickly and move on. No tricks, no abilities—just let her knock him down, let the session end, and get back to something productive.

He lazily raised his hands in a half-hearted guard.

Black Canary didn't move. Instead, she studied him, as if she could see exactly what he was planning.

"If you don't take this seriously," she said, "I'll train you personally."

That made him pause.

She knew.

She knew he had no intention of fighting properly. Which meant someone—probably Batman—had sent her notes about him. His habits. His reluctance.

He sighed again, longer this time.

"Great," Kid Flash muttered from the sidelines. "Why does he get personal training? I'd sign up for that."

Samuel ignored him.

Instead, he straightened his posture, adjusted his stance—still sloppy, but at least an attempt—and braced himself.

He wasn't going to win, but he also wasn't going to let this waste more time than necessary.