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Chapter 77 - Chapter 77

"Harvey's prosecuting," Bruce observed, recognizing District Attorney Harvey Dent approaching the courthouse through a crowd of media. Despite the early hour, Dent looked confident and prepared as he navigated the questions being shouted by reporters.

"Turn it up," Bruce said, his curiosity overriding his intention to avoid work-related concerns during family time.

"...the evidence against Mr. Falcone is overwhelming," Harvey was saying to the assembled media, his voice carrying the satisfaction of a prosecutor who knew he had a strong case. "Financial records, recorded conversations, witness testimony—all of it paints a clear picture of a criminal organization that operated with impunity for decades."

Dick leaned forward with interest. "Wait, it sounds like it's going really well. This is the trial for Carmine Falcone? The guy whose son hired all those assassins?"

"That's right," Bruce confirmed. "Harvey's been building this case for months. The events of this past week actually provided some crucial final pieces of evidence he needed."

"What kind of evidence?" Dick asked, clearly fascinated by the intersection of their recent adventures with legitimate legal proceedings.

"Financial records recovered from the Iceberg Lounge, communication logs between the assassins and their handlers, testimony from Alberto Falcone himself before his death," Bruce explained. "When criminals get desperate, they sometimes become careless about covering their tracks."

On screen, a reporter was asking Harvey about the strength of his case. Harvey's confidence was unmistakable as he replied, "The defense has been scrambling since opening statements. When you have recorded conversations of the defendant discussing specific criminal operations, when you have financial documents showing money laundering on a massive scale, when you have witnesses who can place him at planning meetings for various crimes... well, it becomes very difficult to claim innocence."

"Mr. Dent," called out another reporter, "the defense has suggested that the recent violence in Gotham's criminal underworld has compromised the reliability of your evidence. How do you respond?"

Harvey's expression grew more serious but remained confident. "I would argue the opposite. The chaos of this past week has actually exposed the true nature of these criminal organizations. We've recovered evidence that had been hidden for years, and we've gained cooperation from individuals who finally understand the cost of remaining silent."

Alfred made a small sound of approval. "Mr. Dent presents his case quite well. His preparation has been thorough, and it appears his evidence is even stronger than we initially realized."

"Yeah," Dick agreed, then glanced at Bruce with obvious curiosity. "It really sounds like Carmine's in serious trouble. Do you think he'll actually be convicted?"

Bruce considered the question seriously, though Harvey's obvious confidence was encouraging. "Harvey's excellent at his job, and from what we're seeing, the evidence is overwhelming. Even with Carmine's resources and connections, it's hard to argue against recorded conversations and financial documents."

"The defense will likely argue that their client is being scapegoated for the actions of others," Alfred observed. "But given the strength of the evidence Mr. Dent is describing, such arguments may fall on deaf ears."

"Which is partially what happened," Dick said thoughtfully. "I mean, Alberto did go behind his father's back with the whole assassination thing. But it sounds like they have evidence of Carmine's other crimes too."

"Exactly," Bruce agreed. "Harvey will argue that the culture of violence and corruption that made Alberto's actions possible came directly from Carmine's leadership and example. And it sounds like he has the documentation to prove it."

On screen, Harvey was fielding another question about the timeline for the trial. "We expect to present our case over the next two weeks," he said confidently. "The evidence is extensive, but it's also clear. We're not dealing with circumstantial connections here—we have direct documentation of criminal activity spanning decades."

Another reporter asked about potential plea deals. Harvey's response was immediate and decisive: "Mr. Falcone has been offered opportunities to cooperate. He has declined. At this point, we're prepared to let a jury decide his fate based on the evidence."

The weight of that statement settled over them as they continued watching. On screen, Harvey was wrapping up his media appearance, promising justice while managing to avoid revealing specific details about the trial.

As Harvey stepped away from the microphones, the coverage switched back to the newsroom where a familiar redhead reporter appeared on screen. Vicki Vale, one of Gotham's most prominent investigative journalists, sat behind the news desk with the professional composure that had made her a trusted voice in the city's media landscape.

"Good afternoon, I'm Vicki Vale with continuing coverage of what's being called the most significant organized crime trial in Gotham's history," she began, her voice carrying the authority of someone who'd been covering the city's criminal underworld for years. "But first, we have breaking news that may significantly impact the Falcone trial proceedings."

Bruce felt his attention sharpen, recognizing the tone that preceded major developments. Beside him, Dick leaned forward with obvious interest.

"This morning, the body of Alberto Falcone, son of crime boss Carmine Falcone, was discovered in Gotham Harbor," Vicki continued, her expression growing more serious. "The younger Falcone had been missing since the violent confrontations that rocked the city earlier this week, culminating in the destruction of the Iceberg Lounge and a massive battle at an abandoned construction site."

Dick's eyes widened as crime scene photos appeared on screen—police boats, Harbor Patrol units, and a body bag being loaded onto a coroner's van. "They found Alberto?"

"According to GCPD sources," Vicki continued, "Alberto Falcone appears to have been the victim of an execution-style killing. Perhaps most significantly, investigators report that the victim's ring finger was severed, apparently to remove the family signet ring that had been passed down through generations of the Falcone organization."

Alfred's expression grew thoughtful as he processed the implications. "Symbolic," he observed quietly. "Someone wanted to make a statement about the transfer of power."

"The discovery comes as violence continues to reshape Gotham's criminal hierarchy," Vicki was saying, switching to footage of the destroyed Iceberg Lounge. "Thursday night's confrontation at Oswald Cobblepot's establishment resulted in the arrest of seven international assassins, while a subsequent battle at the abandoned Falcone Tower construction site saw the involvement of what witnesses describe as 'enhanced individuals' and 'government operatives.'"

The screen showed aerial footage of the construction site, its skeletal framework partially collapsed and emergency vehicles still scattered around the perimeter. Bruce could see sections where their fight with Deathstroke and the others had caused significant structural damage.

"Jesus," Dick muttered, seeing the scope of destruction from a news perspective for the first time. "We really did a number on that place."

"GCPD Commissioner James Gordon has confirmed that all seven international assassins remain in custody," Vicki continued, "though questions persist about the federal agents involved in the operation and their connection to a broader conspiracy that may reach into the highest levels of government."

The coverage switched to Gordon at a press conference, looking tired but satisfied as he addressed questions about the arrests. "I can confirm that we have seven dangerous individuals in secure custody, facing charges ranging from conspiracy to commit murder to terrorism-related offenses. The investigation into their activities has provided crucial evidence for multiple ongoing prosecutions."

"This has really been a hell of a week for law enforcement," Dick observed, watching Gordon field questions with professional competence despite obvious exhaustion.

"But perhaps most significantly," Vicki continued as the coverage returned to her, "sources close to the investigation suggest that Alberto Falcone's death may signal a dramatic shift in Gotham's organized crime landscape. The symbolic removal of the family ring, combined with the ongoing trial of his father, suggests that new leadership may be emerging to fill the power vacuum."

Bruce exchanged a meaningful glance with Alfred. The implication was clear—someone was making a move for control of Gotham's criminal underworld, and they were doing it with the kind of theatrical brutality that would ensure the message was understood by every family and organization in the city.

"Law enforcement sources indicate that Alberto Falcone had been cooperating with federal authorities in the case against his father," Vicki added, her voice carrying the weight of inside information. "His death raises serious questions about witness protection and the reach of organized crime's influence, even within law enforcement agencies."

"That's not going to help Carmine's case," Alfred observed. "Having your son murdered while cooperating with prosecutors tends to validate their claims about your organization's methods."

"Yeah," Dick agreed, though his expression showed discomfort with the casual discussion of murder. "But it also means someone killed him just for talking to the government. That's... pretty ruthless."

Bruce was processing the implications beyond the immediate impact on the trial. Alberto's murder, particularly the theatrical removal of the family ring, suggested that whoever had ordered the killing wanted credit for it. This wasn't a discreet elimination—this was a public declaration of new leadership.

"We'll continue following developments in both the Falcone trial and the investigation into Alberto Falcone's murder," Vicki concluded. "The GCPD has announced a press conference for later this afternoon where Commissioner Gordon is expected to provide updates on both cases."

As the coverage shifted to other news, the weight of what they'd witnessed settled over the room. The violent week that had nearly destroyed them was continuing to reshape Gotham's criminal landscape in ways they were only beginning to understand.

"You know what's weird?" Dick said, though his tone was more subdued than before. "Watching all this unfold, knowing that we were right in the middle of it... it feels like we actually accomplished something important, but also like it's not really over."

"We did accomplish something important," Bruce confirmed, though his own voice carried new gravity. "We protected people who needed protection, gathered evidence that will help convict criminals, and stopped a conspiracy that could have undermined Gotham's entire justice system."

"But the people we stopped weren't the only dangerous ones in the city," Dick added with the perceptive observation that had become characteristic of him. "Someone else is making moves now."

"That's the nature of this work," Alfred said gently, recognizing the boy's growing understanding of the complexities they faced. "Victories are often temporary, and solving one problem frequently reveals others that were hidden beneath."

"And we did it together," Dick said, his voice carrying both wonder and new determination as he looked between Bruce and Alfred. "Like a real team."

"Like a real family," Bruce corrected gently, and felt his chest warm as Dick's face lit up with understanding and renewed purpose.

"Yeah," Dick said softly, but with steel underneath the words. "Like a real family that protects this city together."

Wayne Manor, Private Study - 9:47 AM, Monday

The early morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Wayne Manor's private study, casting long shadows across the Persian rugs and leather-bound volumes that had witnessed decades of Wayne family history. Bruce sat behind his father's old desk, a cup of Alfred's exceptional coffee cooling at his elbow as he reviewed the morning's intelligence reports. For the first time in over a week, Gotham had been remarkably quiet. The kind of calm that suggested the city was finally beginning to heal from the chaos that had nearly torn it apart.

The knock on the study door was familiar. Alfred's distinctive three-tap rhythm that meant "guests arriving."

"Come in," Bruce called, not looking up from the financial analysis he was pretending to study.

"Master Bruce," Alfred announced with that particular tone of formality he used when maintaining the fiction of Bruce's civilian identity for visitors, "Mr. Kent and Mr. Stark have arrived."

Bruce glanced up, noting Alfred's expression carried a subtle mix of amusement and concern. "Thank you, Alfred. Please show them in."

Moments later, Clark Kent entered the study with his characteristic easy stride, looking remarkably well-rested for someone who'd spent Friday afternoon in Coast City. He wore a simple button-down shirt and khakis, the very picture of a mild-mannered reporter enjoying a casual Monday morning. Behind him came Tony Stark, whose designer suit was impeccable as always, though Bruce's trained eye caught the slight favoring of his left shoulder that suggested recent physical strain.

"Bruce," Clark greeted warmly, extending his hand. "Good to see you looking better. You sounded pretty rough on the phone Saturday night."

"Tony," Bruce acknowledged with a nod as he shook Clark's hand, then turned to the billionaire inventor. "How's the shoulder? That new element working out for you?"

Tony's trademark smirk appeared, though it carried satisfaction rather than his usual deflection. "Like a dream, actually. Arc reactor's running cleaner than ever, no more palladium poisoning slowly killing me. Amazing what proper engineering can accomplish when you're not dying."

He settled into one of the leather chairs across from Bruce's desk with practiced casualness. "Though I hear you had your own excitement this week. Seven international assassins? Even by Gotham standards, that seems excessive."

Clark took the other chair, his expression growing more serious. "I've been following up through official channels since we talked. The reports I'm seeing paint quite a picture. That really was Pierce behind the whole thing?"

"Among others," Bruce agreed, leaning back in his chair. "Pierce's operation was more comprehensive than any of us initially realized. The assassins were just one component of a larger conspiracy that stretched from street-level crime families all the way up to federal agencies."

"And you handled it," Tony observed, studying Bruce with obvious curiosity. "With your ten-year-old partner, if the reports are accurate. I have to say, bringing Dick into the field was either incredibly reckless or remarkably well-calculated."

Bruce's expression softened slightly at the mention of Dick. "Robin proved himself. More than proved himself, actually. The kid faced his parents' killer and chose mercy over revenge. At ten years old. That takes a kind of strength most adults never develop."

"Speaking of which," Clark interjected gently, "how's he adjusting? I can't imagine what he's been through this week."

"Better than expected," Bruce replied honestly. "Dick's remarkably resilient. The circus taught him to adapt quickly to changing circumstances, and having a clear sense of purpose has given him focus. Though Alfred's been quietly implementing what he calls 'structured recovery protocols.'"

Tony's eyebrows rose with interest. "Your butler has protocols for child trauma recovery?"

"Alfred has protocols for everything," Bruce said dryly. "Including, apparently, how to serve coffee to three vigilantes without commenting on the absurdity of the situation."

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Alfred appeared in the doorway with a silver tray bearing additional coffee service and what appeared to be fresh pastries.

"I took the liberty of preparing refreshments," Alfred announced, setting the tray on a side table with characteristic precision. "And Master Dick asked me to inform you that he's completed his morning exercises and is now working on what he terms 'homework that isn't boring for once.'"

"What's he studying?" Clark asked with genuine interest.

"Advanced forensics and criminal psychology," Bruce replied. "Along with his regular academic subjects. He's enthusiastic about learning investigative techniques."

"Of course he is," Tony muttered, accepting a cup of coffee from Alfred. "Because normal ten-year-olds study fingerprint analysis for fun."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said as his guardian finished serving. "And please let Dick know we'll review his forensics assignments after lunch."

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, though his slight smile suggested approval of the domestic normalcy Bruce was trying to maintain. "Will there be anything else?"

"Privacy would be appreciated," Bruce said meaningfully.

Alfred nodded and withdrew, closing the study doors behind him with a soft click that somehow conveyed both discretion and protective vigilance.

Tony waited a moment, then leaned forward. "Okay, now that the British super-spy has given us space to talk, let's address the elephant in the room. What the hell happened to the world while I was busy not dying from heavy metal poisoning?"

"You were dying?" Clark asked, though his tone suggested this was old news they'd already discussed.

"Palladium toxicity from the arc reactor," Tony explained, though his casual delivery indicated this crisis had passed. "The very thing keeping me alive was slowly killing me. Ironic, right? Stark Industries' greatest achievement giving me blood poisoning one isotope at a time."

Bruce studied his colleague with understanding. "That explains the erratic behavior at the charity gala. I had been monitoring your condition, actually. When someone starts using experimental technology as frequently as you were over the past few months, especially leading up to the Stark Expo, it raises questions about sustainability."

Tony's expression shifted, genuine surprise replacing his casual demeanor. "You figured out I was poisoning myself just from tracking my Iron Man appearances?"

"Thermal imaging, micro-expression analysis, subtle physical indicators," Bruce replied matter-of-factly. "When someone with your resources starts making increasingly reckless decisions, it's worth investigating why."

Clark leaned forward, his expression thoughtful and somewhat wary. "You were planning to intervene if Tony's condition worsened?"

"I had options prepared," Bruce said simply. "Medical countermeasures, potential treatments, ways to help if the situation became terminal."

Tony was quiet for a moment, processing the implications. "That's... actually pretty touching, Wayne. And slightly terrifying. If you can monitor something that personal without me knowing..." He paused, meeting Bruce's eyes directly. "What else are you keeping tabs on?"

The question hung in the air, loaded with implications both men understood. Clark shifted uncomfortably, clearly wondering the same thing.

"I prepare for contingencies," Bruce said evenly. "It's what I do. Sometimes that means helping friends who are too proud to ask for help."

"And sometimes?" Tony pressed, his voice carrying a new edge of wariness.

Bruce held his gaze steadily. "Sometimes it means being prepared for worst-case scenarios. With everyone."

"Even us," Clark said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"Especially you," Bruce replied without hesitation. "People with our capabilities can cause significant damage if we're compromised. Preparation isn't paranoia, it's responsibility."

Tony leaned back in his chair, studying Bruce with new understanding. "So you've got contingency plans for taking us down if we go rogue."

"I hope I never have to use them," Bruce said honestly. "But yes."

The admission created a moment of tense silence. Finally, Tony laughed, though it carried less humor than usual. "Well, that's simultaneously the most Batman thing ever and surprisingly reassuring. At least I know someone's watching out for collateral damage."

Clark's expression was more troubled. "It's hard to know whether to be grateful or concerned."

"Be both," Bruce suggested. "That's what keeps us honest with each other."

"Created a new element," Tony said, returning to his earlier topic but with less enthusiasm than before. "Took apart half my house in the process, nearly got killed by my best friend wearing a stolen version of my armor, but yes. New element, no more palladium, no more slow death by arc reactor."

"Rhodey's really calling himself War Machine now?" Bruce asked, referencing their previous conversation about Tony's friend taking government oversight of the technology.

"War Machine," Tony confirmed with a slight smile. "His choice, actually. Black and silver color scheme. Very military, very James. The government wanted something more patriotic, but he shut that down pretty quickly."

Clark leaned back in his chair, processing. "So while Bruce was dealing with international assassins and Gotham's criminal conspiracy, you were dying, creating new elements, and fighting both Russian weapons designers and the U.S. military."

"Don't forget nearly getting my house destroyed," Tony added helpfully. "That was Wednesday. The week kind of blurred together after the palladium started affecting my cognitive function."

"And then Friday," Bruce continued, "you both dropped everything to help in Coast City."

"Well, when five angry aliens start demolishing downtown areas, personal problems take a backseat," Tony said. "Though I'll admit, after the week I'd had, fighting extraterrestrial rage monsters almost felt relaxing. At least they were straightforward about wanting to kill me."

Clark nodded thoughtfully. "The Red Lanterns were unlike anything I'd encountered before. Their power levels were extraordinary, and their leader seemed personally invested in causing maximum destruction."

"Flash was already there when I arrived," Tony confirmed. "Kid's fast. Really fast. Makes my armor's targeting systems look sluggish. And completely insane in the best possible way. Spent the first part of the fight basically trolling five cosmic-level threats with running commentary."

"Sounds effective," Bruce observed.

"Surprisingly, yes," Clark agreed. "Though I think he was running on adrenaline and caffeine. When I arrived, he was starting to show signs of exhaustion. Barry's got heart, but those Red Lanterns were beyond anything Central City had prepared him for."

"And the Green Lantern who showed up?" Bruce asked. "Jordan, wasn't it?"

"Human," Tony said immediately. "Test pilot, based on his movement patterns and risk assessment. Ring technology that converts willpower into physical constructs. Fought like someone with minimal training but maximum determination."

"He saved us," Clark added quietly. "All of us. When Atrocitus unleashed that final attack, the four of us together couldn't match that level of power. Then Hal arrived with his ring fully charged, and suddenly we had a chance."

Bruce studied his colleagues' expressions. Both carried the satisfaction of a battle well-fought alongside capable allies. "You're both impressed."

"He faced down someone who could have killed all of us," Clark said simply. "Without hesitation. Did it to protect people he'd never met, in a city he was responsible for as part of some cosmic peacekeeping force."

"Plus the whole 'ring that responds to willpower' thing is fascinating from a technological standpoint," Tony added. "I spent the entire flight home trying to figure out how thought-responsive matter creation could possibly work. JARVIS is still running calculations."

"And Aquaman?" Bruce asked. "Arthur Curry."

"Atlantean royalty, apparently," Clark replied. "Controls water with precision that defies physics, strength levels comparable to mine, and a trident that seems to enhance his abilities. Also possesses what might be the most confident personality I've ever encountered."

"Guy talked trash to cosmic-level aliens," Tony elaborated. "Called their aesthetic choices 'anger-themed cosplay.' While fighting for his life. I kind of admire that level of confidence."

"Five heroes, working together against an unprecedented threat," Bruce summarized. "And it worked."

"Better than worked," Clark agreed. "We functioned as a team despite most of us never having met before. The coordination felt natural."

Tony set down his coffee cup, his expression growing more serious. "Which brings us to why we're here, Wayne. After Coast City, after everything that's happened this week, it's clear the world has changed. The threats we're facing are beyond what any one person can handle alone."

"Even someone who's been doing this for seven years," Clark added with a meaningful look at Bruce.

"Seven years," Tony repeated thoughtfully. "You've been at this longer than any of us, haven't you? While the rest of us were figuring out what it means to be 'enhanced,' you were already out there every night, cleaning up Gotham's streets with nothing but determination and really expensive toys."

"And comprehensive training," Bruce added. "Don't forget the comprehensive training."

"Right, the mysterious background everyone pretends not to speculate about," Tony said with obvious curiosity. "Seriously, Wayne, your file reads like something out of a spy novel. Disappears for years, comes back with skills that shouldn't be possible, starts operating as an urban legend with equipment that would make military contractors weep with envy."

"Some things are better left mysterious," Bruce replied evenly.

"Fair enough," Clark intervened diplomatically. "The point is, you've been protecting people long before any of us understood what that responsibility meant. That experience is valuable."

"It is," Tony agreed. "Which is why I'm going to cut to the chase. After Coast City, Fury reached out to me about something he's been developing. Called it the Avengers Initiative."

Bruce's expression didn't change, but Clark caught the slight tightening around his eyes. "I'm familiar with Fury's interests in enhanced individuals."

"He's been watching all of us," Tony continued. "The heroes who've emerged in the last few years. He's got files, assessments, projections. And he's got a proposal for a response team."

"What kind of response team?" Clark asked.

"Enhanced individuals working together to handle situations like Coast City," Tony explained. "When something beyond normal parameters threatens civilian populations, we'd coordinate response instead of relying on coincidence and good timing."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, processing the implications. "Government oversight of superhuman activities."

"Coordination," Tony corrected. "Not control. At least, that's how Fury pitched it. The idea being that when something like those Red Lanterns happens, we don't have to hope the right people are in the right place at the right time."

"And the membership?" Bruce asked.

"You, me, Clark, obviously," Tony listed. "Fury mentioned Jordan, Barry Allen, Arthur Curry. There's also Natasha Romanoff, who I've had the pleasure of working with recently. Turns out my very competent personal assistant was actually a SHIELD agent keeping tabs on me the whole time. Someone called Hawkeye. And they're tracking a few others who might be suitable."

Clark frowned. "That's a lot of people. A lot of different personalities and methods."

"Which is exactly why Fury wants to start with a core group," Tony explained. "People who've proven they can work together under pressure. Like Friday."

"And who's making the decisions?" Bruce asked pointedly. "Who's setting priorities, choosing missions, determining acceptable losses?"

"That's still being negotiated," Tony admitted. "Fury's got ideas about command structure, but he's smart enough to know that trying to give orders to people like us would be counterproductive."

"You're considering it," Clark observed, studying Tony's expression.

"I'm considering it," Tony confirmed. "Look, I spent the last week learning that I can't do everything alone. That trying to handle every threat by myself nearly got me killed. Coast City proved that working with others isn't just more effective—sometimes it's the only way to save lives."

Bruce turned to Clark. "And you?"

"I've been operating alone for two years," Clark replied thoughtfully. "It's isolating. Having backup, having people who understand the responsibilities we carry, that's appealing. But the oversight aspect concerns me."

"Me too," Bruce agreed. "SHIELD operates in areas where accountability is flexible. Getting involved with them means accepting their methods, their priorities."

"But the alternative is what?" Tony challenged. "We keep operating independently, hoping we happen to be in the right place when the next cosmic threat arrives? Bruce, you've been doing this alone for seven years. How many times could backup have made the difference?"

Bruce considered the question seriously. "Several. Though Gotham's threats are typically more localized."

"Until this week," Clark pointed out gently. "When international conspiracies brought enhanced assassins to your city. When government corruption threatened your entire justice system."

"Point taken," Bruce acknowledged. "Though I should mention I wasn't entirely alone. I had help."

"Dick," Tony said. "The kid."

"And others," Bruce added, thinking of the complex web of alliances that had shaped the week's events.

"But the principle stands," Clark continued. "None of us can handle everything alone. And the threats are getting bigger, more complex."

Tony nodded emphatically. "Exactly. Plus, there's something to be said for having people who understand what we're dealing with. The isolation, the responsibility, the weight of making decisions that affect thousands of lives."

"The moral complexity," Bruce added quietly. "The gray areas where right and wrong aren't as clear as we'd like them to be."

"Right," Clark agreed. "Having colleagues who understand those pressures, who can provide perspective when we're too close to a situation to see it clearly. That's valuable."

Tony leaned forward. "So what do you think? Worth at least hearing Fury out? Getting the full briefing?"

Bruce was quiet for a moment, weighing the implications. "What's the timeline?"

"Soon," Tony replied. "Fury wants to move quickly. The public's aware of us now, the government's taking notice, and there are indications that more threats are coming. He'd rather have a team in place before the next crisis rather than trying to assemble one during it."

"And if we say no?" Clark asked.

"Then SHIELD proceeds with whoever they can recruit," Tony said. "But I think we're stronger together. What happened Friday proved that."

Bruce stood, walking to the window that looked out over Wayne Manor's grounds. In the distance, he could see Dick practicing acrobatics on the equipment Alfred had installed, the boy's movements showing the fluid grace that had made him a star performer. The sight reminded him of how much had changed in just a week, how his solitary mission had evolved into something more collaborative.

"There would be conditions," he said finally, not turning from the window.

"Of course," Tony agreed immediately.

"Full autonomy in Gotham," Bruce continued. "This is my city. I won't have outside interference in how I protect it."

"Reasonable," Clark said.

"No secret identity compromises," Bruce added. "For any of us. What we choose to reveal about ourselves remains our choice."

"Already discussed with Fury," Tony confirmed. "He's more interested in capabilities than civilian identities."

"And no missions that conflict with our individual codes," Bruce concluded, turning back to face them. "I won't kill, even if the situation seems to demand it. I won't compromise on that."

"Understood," Clark said immediately. "I have similar restrictions."

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