{3/5}
The Manor was quiet at night, almost unnaturally so. Jaime wandered through the darkened halls, barefoot and hoodie-clad, following the soft glow of a wall panel Alfred had activated earlier. It guided him downward, deeper into the estate, until the sleek, near-silent elevator doors slid open.
The Batcave was everything Jaime expected and somehow more. The ceiling seemed endless, swallowing up shadows. Technology hummed quietly around the space like a living organism. The Batmobile rested like a predator in hibernation, and giant computer screens blinked with data too fast for a normal person to follow.
Bruce stood at the central console, not in the Batsuit, but in a plain black shirt and slacks, reviewing something on-screen. He didn't turn when Jaime stepped inside.
"You've adjusted faster than I expected."
Jaime glanced around. "Hard not to, with a secret lair like this under your house."
Bruce finally looked at him, expression unreadable. "This isn't about theatrics. It's about being prepared."
There was a long pause.
"You moved us here to keep an eye on me," Jaime said finally.
"I moved your family here to keep them safe." Bruce's tone was level, serious. "But yes. I also need to study you."
Jaime bristled slightly. "I'm not a science experiment."
"You're not. But what's bonded to you is unlike anything we've seen—not Reach, not magic, not pure tech. And yet you control it."
Jaime crossed his arms. "Because I changed it. Because I didn't want it taking over my life."
Bruce nodded. "Which is exactly why I'm not treating you like a threat."
There was a beat. No ambient music. Just the soft hum of the cave's systems and the ever-present background tension of Gotham.
"I'm offering you resources," Bruce said. "Training. Protection for your family. The chance to learn from people who've been where you are."
"You want me in the League?"
"Not yet. Not unless you want it. Right now, I want you to be ready—for whatever comes next."
Jaime sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's fair."
Bruce turned back to the monitor, then tapped a few keys. A new screen opened—satellite footage, blurred thermal scans of Jaime's recent takedown in El Paso.
"You don't leave a lot of evidence," Bruce said. "Smart. But not infallible."
Jaime didn't respond.
Bruce glanced over again. "This isn't a warning. It's a compliment."
That took Jaime a second to process.
"I've seen vigilantes burn out in a year. Get themselves killed. Or worse—turn into something they never meant to be."
"I'm not planning to lose myself."
"Good. Then let's make sure you don't."
Bruce picked up a small, sleek device from the desk and handed it to him. It was a comm, thinner than a credit card, marked only with a subtle bat insignia.
"You're not a sidekick. But you're not alone either."
Jaime held it like it might vanish if he blinked. "Thanks."
Bruce nodded once, then turned back to his data, dismissing him silently.
Wayne Manor – Next Morning
Milagro looked over the Gotham Academy uniform like it was a cursed object. "This looks like something out of Dead Poets Society."
"You liked Dead Poets Society," Jaime said, adjusting his tie in the mirror.
"I liked the rebellion. Not the khakis."
Their ride pulled up a few minutes later, sleek and black, Gotham Academy's emblem on the side. The driver greeted them with a polite nod but didn't speak much.
The school itself looked like an Ivy League fortress. Old stone, wide courtyards, thick iron gates. Students milled around in uniforms that somehow made them look even more judgmental than teenagers usually were.
Jaime stepped out first, eyes scanning the campus.
[Threat level: Minimal. Surveillance: Extensive. Emotional response from peers: Mixed curiosity and suspicion.]
"Great," he muttered. "First day and we're already weird."
They were greeted by Dr. Whitmore herself—stern, composed, but welcoming.
"Mr. and Ms. Reyes. Welcome to Gotham Academy. You'll find our expectations high, but our support thorough. If you need anything, come to me directly."
Milagro raised a hand. "Is coffee allowed in class?"
Whitmore didn't blink. "No."
Milagro lowered her hand. "Noted."
As they were led deeper into the building, past portraits and display cases of way-too-accomplished alumni, Jaime couldn't help feeling like he was back on patrol.
Everyone watched them.
Someone up on the third floor balcony tilted their head ever so slightly. Jaime's HUD pinged them as an unknown. No threat. No data. Just… watching.
He smirked under his breath.