A Deal Written in Steel and Silence
The room Damian and Raven shared in Titans Tower was quiet in the way only shared spaces ever were—comfortable, lived-in, filled with the unspoken understanding of two people who had stopped pretending they were alone in the world.
Raven sat cross-legged on the bed, one knee pulled to her chest, fingers idly tracing a faint sigil in the air that faded as quickly as it formed. Damian stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out over Jump City's skyline. He hadn't moved in several minutes.
She knew that look.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't grief.
It was resolve—the dangerous kind.
"Damian," Raven said softly, breaking the silence. "You're thinking too loudly."
He exhaled through his nose and turned toward her. "Rick Flag Sr. isn't going to recover."
Raven didn't interrupt him. She waited. She always waited when he reached this point.
"The doctors have done everything they can," Damian continued. "Physical therapy. Neural stimulation. Experimental medicine. None of it is enough. His spinal cord is too damaged. He's trapped in that chair for the rest of his life."
Raven's eyes darkened. "And you don't accept that."
"No," Damian said flatly. "I don't."
He moved to the center of the room and activated a small projector built into his gauntlet. Blue-white light filled the air, forming a rotating hologram of a human spinal column—then shifting, segment by segment, into something far more complex.
Metal. Fiber-optic strands. Neural ports.
The Sandevistan.
"This," Damian said, "is what I gave my father."
The hologram split into two versions.
One sleek, integrated into a full combat suit—layered redundancies, external power routing, detachable systems.
The other was rawer. Smaller. Brutal in its efficiency.
"The original prototype," Raven said quietly.
Damian nodded. "The one before I learned how to distribute the load across external systems. Before I figured out how to offload neural stress into the suit instead of the body."
Raven studied the hologram carefully. "And this one…"
"Replaces the spine entirely," Damian finished. "Interfaces directly with the nervous system. It doesn't just enhance speed and reaction time—it restores damaged neural pathways. It forces the brain and body to reconnect."
Raven looked up at him. "You want to give this to Rick Flag Sr."
"Yes."
Her voice stayed calm, but her eyes sharpened. "The original version. Not the suit."
"Yes."
"And you understand what that means."
Damian didn't hesitate. "We would have to remove his existing spine."
For a moment, the room felt colder.
"That's not an upgrade," Raven said slowly. "That's surgery. Extremely dangerous surgery."
"I know."
"You're talking about replacing the backbone of a human being with experimental cyberware."
"I know."
Raven stood, walking toward him. "Damian… are you planning to do this yourself?"
He snorted once. "No. I'm reckless, not suicidal."
She searched his face. "Then you already know who you need."
"Yes."
"Batman."
"Yes."
"And Mr. Terrific. Ray Palmer."
"Yes."
Raven sighed and rubbed her temples. "You realize that if Bruce thinks this is too dangerous, he will shut this down immediately."
Damian met her gaze. "That's why I'm telling him."
"And if he says no?"
Damian answered without hesitation. "I'll do it anyway."
Raven stared at him for several long seconds.
Then she shook her head and gave a tired, resigned smile. "If I say no, you'll go behind my back, won't you?"
"Yes," Damian said honestly.
She exhaled. "Then I don't have a choice, do I?"
"No."
Raven reached out, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it tightly. "You are the most infuriating person I've ever cared about."
Damian allowed himself a small smile. "Noted."
Her eyes glowed briefly as she whispered, "Azarath Metrion Zinthos."
The world folded.
The Batcave
The cavern lit up as they appeared, ancient stone and cutting-edge technology coexisting in quiet harmony. The Batcomputer's screens flared to life as Bruce Wayne turned from his work, already analyzing their posture, their breathing, the tension in Damian's shoulders.
"Robin," Batman said evenly. "Raven. This better be important."
Damian stepped forward. "It is."
Bruce didn't interrupt as Damian explained—about Rick Flag Sr., the spinal damage, the failure of modern medicine, and finally the Sandevistan.
He projected the same hologram into the air, letting Batman see both versions.
"I'm going to give him the original," Damian said. "Not the suit-based system."
Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly. "Because the suit version can be removed."
"Yes."
"And the original interfaces directly with the nervous system," Batman continued, already ahead of him. "Which means it can compensate for damaged neural pathways."
"Yes."
"But it also means," Bruce said, voice hardening, "that it cannot be safely removed once implanted."
Damian met his father's gaze. "Correct."
Silence stretched between them.
Bruce turned away, walking slowly as he processed every variable—surgical risk, political fallout, ethical consequences, long-term unknowns.
After several minutes, he stopped.
"You're not giving him the suit," Bruce said.
"No," Damian replied immediately. "That stays with you. Always."
Bruce nodded once. "Good."
He turned back. "Who do you need?"
Damian blinked, surprised. "You're… not shutting this down?"
"I didn't say that," Bruce replied. "I'm evaluating it."
Damian straightened. "I need you. Mr. Terrific. Ray Palmer. And surgeons who can keep this quiet."
Bruce folded his arms. "There will be conditions."
Damian nodded. "I expected that."
"This is a deal," Batman said. "And deals have rules."
He raised one finger.
"First: Rick Flag Sr. is the only person who ever receives the original Sandevistan. No exceptions."
"I agree."
"Second: the system will have absolute safeguards. No remote access. No hacking. No external overrides. If someone tries to tamper with it, it shuts down safely."
"I'll build it that way."
"Third," Bruce said, voice dropping, "this only happens if Rick Flag Sr. agrees to a full non-disclosure agreement with the Justice League."
Damian frowned slightly. "You want the blame."
"Yes," Bruce said without hesitation. "If this ever becomes public, the world will believe I gave him the cyberware. Not you."
Raven's eyes widened slightly, but Damian didn't hesitate.
"That protects you," Bruce continued. "It protects the Titans. And it keeps the government from dissecting you for answers."
Damian clenched Raven's hand, feeling the weight of what his father was offering.
Sacrifice.
Shielding.
Responsibility.
"I agree," Damian said firmly. "All of it."
Bruce studied his son for a long moment—really looked at him.
"You understand," Bruce said quietly, "that if this goes wrong, you carry that responsibility for the rest of your life."
"I already do," Damian replied.
Batman nodded once.
"Then we proceed," he said. "Carefully. Quietly. And only if Rick Flag Sr. chooses this himself."
Damian finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Raven squeezed his hand. "You're really doing this."
"Yes," Damian said.
Because some people didn't deserve to be left behind.
And because sometimes, changing the world meant accepting the cost.