First Steps in Slow Time
Rick Flag Sr. dreamed of motion.
Not the frantic kind he'd lived with his whole life—bullets, commands, blood—but something quieter. A sense of momentum without pain. Of standing without strain. Of time itself bending, stretching, waiting for him.
When he woke again, the world felt heavier.
Light filtered in from the ceiling panels of the hidden base's medical wing, soft and deliberately dim. Machines hummed in low, controlled rhythms around him. His body felt… dense. Not numb—never numb—but weighted, as if gravity itself had increased its claim on him.
He breathed in slowly.
Pain answered, sharp but contained, held back by layers of medication and discipline. He'd known pain his entire life. This was different. This was earned.
A quiet voice spoke from the side of the room.
"You're awake."
Rick turned his head with effort. Batman stood near the wall, arms crossed, cape drawn still, as if even the fabric refused to move unless commanded. Mr. Terrific was seated at a console, reviewing holographic readouts. The Atom leaned against a counter, helmet tucked under his arm.
Rick exhaled. "So… I didn't die."
Mr. Terrific allowed himself a small smile. "Statistically speaking, that was never off the table. But yes. You survived."
Batman stepped forward. "How do you feel?"
Rick considered the question carefully. "Like my body's been torn apart and rebuilt by people who knew exactly what they were doing." A pause. "So… better than expected."
Batman nodded once. "Good."
Mr. Terrific turned the hologram toward him. A three-dimensional model of Rick's spinal column rotated slowly in the air—except it wasn't a spine anymore. It was something else. Sleeker. Denser. Alive with contained energy.
"The Sandevistan has fully integrated with your nervous system," Mr. Terrific said. "No rejection. No signal degradation. Your brain has already begun treating it as biological."
The Atom added, "Your vitals are stable, your motor cortex is responding, and the power source—" he tapped the display "—is operating at one hundred percent efficiency."
Rick swallowed. "And the pain?"
"Expected," Batman said. "Temporary. You lost and replaced a vital part of your body. Your mind needs time to accept it."
Rick stared at the ceiling. "How long until I can move?"
Mr. Terrific checked the data. "Technically? Now."
The room went still.
Rick slowly turned his head back toward them. "You're joking."
"I don't joke about surgery," Mr. Terrific replied.
Batman stepped closer to the bed. "Start small. Don't push."
Rick nodded. He closed his eyes—not in fear, but focus. He pictured his legs, the way they used to feel when he ran drills at dawn, boots pounding against concrete. He reached for that memory, let it guide him.
Then he tried to move his foot.
Pain flared—sharp, electric—but beneath it was something else.
Response.
His toes twitched.
The Atom let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Mr. Terrific's eyes widened just slightly.
Rick opened his eyes, staring down at his legs as if they belonged to someone else. Slowly—carefully—he moved his toes again.
They moved.
A sound escaped his throat, halfway between a laugh and a sob. He clenched his jaw, breathing through it, grounding himself the way he always had in combat.
Batman placed a hand on the bed's edge. "That's enough for now."
Rick nodded, even as relief crashed over him like a wave. "I can feel them," he said quietly. "After weeks of nothing… I can feel them."
"You'll need rest," Batman said. "Recovery starts now."
Damian arrived later that day.
Rick sensed him before he saw him—light footsteps, controlled presence. When he turned his head, Robin stood in the doorway, arms crossed, mask hiding everything except his eyes.
Raven stood just behind him, silent as ever.
Rick studied the boy for a long moment. "You actually pulled it off."
Damian stepped into the room. "This was only step one."
Rick snorted softly. "Figures."
Raven moved closer, her gaze briefly flicking to the monitors before settling on Rick. "Your aura is… different," she said. "Stronger. Denser. But stable."
"That's good, right?" Rick asked.
"It is," she replied. "Very."
Damian didn't smile, but there was something like relief in his posture. "You're alive. You can move. That means the risk was worth it."
Rick looked at him. Really looked at him. A sixteen-year-old carrying decisions that would've broken grown men.
"You didn't do this for the government," Rick said. "Or for Batman."
"No," Damian replied. "I did it because you deserved a choice."
Rick nodded slowly. "Then I won't waste it."
Two days passed in a blur of pain management, neural recalibration, and constant monitoring. Rick learned quickly that the Sandevistan wasn't just hardware—it was instinct. It responded to thought, intention, reflex.
On the third day, Batman returned with Mr. Terrific and The Atom.
"It's time," Batman said.
Rick was transferred from the medical bed to a reinforced rehabilitation frame—part exoskeleton, part support harness. His hands gripped the rails as the system activated, lifting him gradually, carefully, into a standing position.
His legs shook.
Pain flared again, but beneath it was power—coiled, waiting.
"You're doing the work," Mr. Terrific said. "The Sandevistan is only assisting."
Rick breathed hard, sweat already forming on his brow. "Feels like more than assisting."
Batman's voice was steady. "Don't activate it yet. Just stand."
Rick did.
For the first time since the injury, he stood on his own two feet.
The moment stretched.
Then Rick laughed—a rough, disbelieving sound. "Damn it… I'm standing."
Damian watched from the observation window, fists clenched at his sides. Raven stood beside him, a hand resting lightly on his arm.
"You did this," she said softly.
Damian didn't answer. He was watching Rick take his first step.
It was slow. Painful. Imperfect.
But it was real.
Elsewhere, far from the hidden base, Amanda Waller stared at a secure report marked INCOMPLETE.
Rick Flag Sr. was officially retired. Broken. Non-operational.
And yet…
She closed the file, her jaw tightening.
"Find him," she said coldly. "Something's changed."
Time, it seemed, was beginning to move again.
And not everyone would be able to keep up.