Phantom walks the Watchtower alone, shadows spiraling at his feet, feeling the weight of Batman's briefing still gnawing at him.
His internal monologue is sharp, detached: "If they woke me up, it's because everything else failed. That means I can't."
He reads the League contingencies on his gauntlet display as he moves — Batman's Tower of Babel files — detailing precise methods to incapacitate every Justice Leaguer.
His thought process: "They're compromised. They're not them. But Batman's file doesn't just neutralize. It ends them."
He pauses at a viewport, seeing Earth below. "I didn't come back to kill gods. But that's what this war is."
I'll try. But I don't know if I can.
Watchtower — Hangar Bay.
The hangar is empty when Kade steps in. Too empty.
He feels it before he hears it — a subtle shift in the air, like the station itself is holding its breath. His shadows respond before he does, writhing at his feet, snapping toward the corridor entrances like hunting dogs.
They're here.
Kade doesn't need to check Batman's files to know who.
Plastic Man. Captain Atom. Black Canary.
They emerge one by one from the branching corridors, their movements unnervingly synchronized, heads tilting in the same unnatural cadence.
They're silent. Watching. Predators waiting for his first mistake.
The pit in Kade's stomach tightens, but his face doesn't flinch. He knows what this is. He's seen it in Cadmus labs: a controlled pack, designed to corral its target before the kill.
Not them. Not them. Don't think about their faces. Just finish it.
The shadows explode outward.
They burst from beneath his feet like jagged spears, tendrils snaking across the hangar to claim the high ground, the corners, the choke points. Three split into clones — semi-solid figures that dart across the deck with calculated purpose.
Kade goes full Cadmus-mode. His movements are fast, precise, and cold.
Plastic Man moves first. His form whips forward, rubbering out into a jagged wall of flailing limbs.
Kade doesn't retreat.
His gauntlet vents release a pressurized hiss — cryo-compounds arcing through the air in a shimmering burst. The liquid nitrogen slams into Plastic Man mid-shift, freezing his left side mid-morph. His form locks awkwardly, half-puddle, half-man, falling to the floor with a metallic slap.
"Plastic composite structures… freeze before they shatter." Batman's contingency note flashes in Kade's mind.
Kade's shadows finish the job — slamming frozen limbs against the hangar deck until cracks spiderweb through his polymer frame.
Captain Atom reacts next. A beam of charged energy tears across the hangar, leaving the air tasting like static and metal.
Kade teleports through a shadow, reappearing behind a reactor panel along the wall. His gauntlet spikes drive into the panel's housing, ripping out key conduits. Alarms blare as the machinery hums toward overload.
The blast of radiation is controlled but brutal, sending a destabilizing pulse through the room. Captain Atom stutters mid-charge, his containment suit flickering under the sudden energy feedback.
"Destabilize his form. He's power before he's a man."
Kade's shadows grab the League member by his ankle and hurl him across the hangar into the still-frozen Plastic Man with a bone-jarring crash.
Black Canary tries to scream.
She doesn't get the chance.
Her shadow elongates unnaturally before she can draw breath, wrapping around her throat like a constrictor. Her eyes bulge as she claws at the phantom grip, air cut off in a silent choke.
Kade steps forward slowly, deliberately, watching her thrash. His face is unreadable.
His style isn't flashy. It's precise. Every strike, every movement, is execution-level efficiency. Batman's contingencies play in his head like a second consciousness, feeding him openings, solutions, kill-switches.
He moves like a man solving a puzzle, one piece at a time.
And yet, his heart pounds.
"Not them. Not them. Don't think about their faces. Just finish it."
His own mantra drowns out everything else.
---
The Bioship hums with tension, the low thrum of its engines drowned out by the frantic rhythm of the Team's breathing.
Robin leans over the console, fingers flying across the holographic display. Streams of data flicker — Watchtower internal sensors, motion pings, door locks opening and sealing in rapid sequence.
Robin: "He's already moving through the Tower. Faster than I thought."
He doesn't add the obvious: no one moves through the Watchtower that fast. Not unless they know exactly where to go.
Aqualad steps forward, his face stone-like but his eyes betraying his alarm.
Aqualad: "He's using them."
Kid Flash glances up from his seat. "Using what?"
Aqualad doesn't look away from the data feeds.
Aqualad: "Batman's files. The contingencies."
Artemis shifts uncomfortably, clutching her bow.
Artemis: "Contingencies?"
Robin's voice cuts in, low and clipped, as if saying the words out loud makes them heavier.
Robin: "Plans. To take down every single member of the Justice League. He memorized them. He's running Batman's playbook."
The realization hits the Team like a gut punch.
Zatanna, quiet in the corner until now, finally speaks. Her voice is barely a whisper, but in the suffocating silence of the Bioship, it carries.
Zatanna: "He's not trying to stop them. He's preparing for war."
No one argues.
Miss Martian's knuckles whiten on the controls. She doesn't speak, but the Bioship lurches forward, the hum of the engines rising as she pushes it well past safe speed.
Robin glances up, jaw set.
Robin: "Then we have to get there before it's a massacre."
The cabin goes quiet again. Every second feels like a countdown.
Wide shot: The Bioship streaks toward orbit, a tiny vessel racing against time — toward the most dangerous person they know, who's about to do exactly what he was built to do.
The hum of the Bioship is constant, but no one speaks. Not for a long moment.
It's Artemis who breaks the silence first. Her voice is sharp, but there's an edge of unease beneath it.
Artemis: "You all saw him before the pod. He wasn't exactly… stable. What if we're not stopping him? What if we're just walking into the crossfire?"
No one answers right away.
Kid Flash leans back, arms crossed, forcing a smirk that doesn't quite land.
Kid Flash: "It's Phantom. He's… intense. But Batman trusts him. If he can't handle this, who can?"
Robin doesn't look up from the console.
Robin: "Batman trusts him to get the job done. That doesn't mean he trusts him not to cross lines."
That lands heavier than anyone wants to admit.
Zatanna pulls her knees to her chest, staring at the floor.
Zatanna: "He's going up against our mentors. Against my dad." (Her voice cracks, and she bites it back.) "If they're still in there somewhere, what does that make us? And what does that make him?"
Miss Martian's hands tighten on the controls. Her voice is soft, but steady.
Miss Martian: "I've been in his head. Cadmus didn't just make him strong. They made him a weapon. The way he thinks… there's no off switch. It's kill or be killed."
Aqualad finally speaks, his tone calm, but iron underneath.
Aqualad: "We must hope that what Batman saw in him outweighs what Cadmus built."
Artemis snorts, trying to mask the rising dread.
Artemis: "Hope. Great. That's comforting."
Robin glances at her, then at everyone else, his face unreadable.
Robin: "Hope's all we've got. Because if Phantom gets to them before we do… hope's the only thing they'll have left too."
The silence that follows is worse than the noise.
The Team sits scattered through the Bioship, each lost in their own thoughts — about Phantom, about the League, about what they'll find when they reach the Watchtower.
--
The Command Center doors part with a hiss.
Phantom steps in, and stops.
Wonder Woman emerges from the shadows first — her armor dulled but her eyes glowing with Savage's control, her sword dragging along the floor with a metallic screech. Then, Superman.
Even compromised, their presence is suffocating. The room feels smaller.
Every instinct in Kade screams to run. To vanish into the darkness and live to fight another day.
But Batman's voice cuts through the static in his head: "Be better than me."
He doesn't run.
He moves.
Superman charges first.
Kade doesn't try to overpower him. He can't.
Instead, he vanishes — sliding through Superman's own shadow to reappear at his flank. The shadows on the floor coil like snakes, gripping Superman's legs and torso in an instant, dragging him down just enough for Kade to act.
His gauntlet spikes hiss open, revealing a hidden compartment — a shard of Kryptonite no bigger than a coin. Batman's failsafe.
Kade slams his fist into Superman's side. The Kryptonite bites deep through the suit, glowing faintly as Superman roars — not in pain, but in rage.
Kade doesn't linger. He twists out of reach just as Superman's heat vision scorches the deck where he stood.
Wonder Woman moves next.
Her blade arcs toward his head — fast. Precise.
Kade teleports again, sliding through the shadow cast by the blade, reappearing near a corner panel on the wall. He rips the cover off with a single motion, exposing live wiring — one of Batman's pre-set trap points hidden in the Tower infrastructure.
As she lunges again, he ducks low and kicks her square into the panel.
The trap activates — a surge of high-voltage current arcs across Wonder Woman's frame, her body locking up as smoke curls off her armor.
She drops her sword. Kade's shadows kick it away into the darkness.
A shrill cry cuts through the chaos.
Hawkgirl.
She dives from above, mace raised.
Kade teleports at the last possible moment — slipping into her shadow mid-flight — and reappears directly above her. He grabs her by the shoulder and uses her own momentum to hurl her into the bulkhead with bone-rattling force. Her mace clatters across the floor as she slumps, dazed but breathing.
For a brief second, the room is silent.
Plastic Man, Captain Atom, and Black Canary — the ones from the hangar — still live. Frozen, unconscious, or bound in his shadows, but alive.
And now, Wonder Woman, Superman, Hawkgirl — neutralized.
Phantom hasn't killed anyone. He could have. Easily. But he hasn't.
His heart pounds against his ribs. His breathing is sharp. Every move is muscle memory, Cadmus training running on autopilot — but Batman's voice anchors him.
"Be better than me."
The doors hiss.
More footsteps.
More Leaguers. Green Lantern. Captain Marvel. Martian Manhunter.
Their silhouettes fill the corridor like a wall of gods.
Kade's eyes narrow. His shadow-tendrils twitch, coiling in anticipation.
For every takedown, more keep coming.
And for the first time since waking up, Kade feels the odds.
Wide shot: Phantom crouched low, surrounded, his cloak draped like a shroud, shadows crawling outward to cover the floor. The Command Center lights flicker under his power.
Batman's words echo again."If the League can't be saved, shut us down. No hesitation."
Kade exhales. He adjusts his grip on the batarang at his hip.
Phantom (quietly): "Guess we'll see how far I can take this."
And then he vanishes into the shadows as the next wave of Leaguers descend.
The fight has devolved into chaos.
Blinding light. Deafening crashes. The metallic tang of ozone in the air.
Phantom moves like a shadow caught in a storm, flickering from one point to another, his clones fracturing and reforming as he's forced to fight on three fronts at once.
Green Lantern's constructs slam into him from one side — jagged emerald spikes that rip through the deck plating. Martian Manhunter phases in and out of the floor, hands clawing for his throat. Captain Marvel descends from above like a lightning strike, his fists glowing with barely contained power.
Kade is drowning in gods.
And yet, he holds. Barely.
His shadows are no longer clean. They're ragged, flailing in ugly, desperate movements — a reflection of his spiraling focus. He counters purely on instinct:
A shadow clone takes the brunt of a Lantern blast, evaporating in a hiss of black vapor.
A tendril yanks J'onn out of phase mid-attack, slamming him into a control console.
He teleports through a closing construct wall just in time to avoid being crushed.
But it's sloppy. For the first time, he's losing ground.
"I was supposed to save them. Not this."
The thought cuts sharper than any blow.
Kade barely sidesteps as Marvel's strike caves in the floor where he stood.
"Batman wanted a contingency. But I don't want to be him. I can't—"
The shadows stutter. His next teleport lags by half a second — long enough for Superman to grab him.
Superman's hand closes around his torso like a vice.
Kade's ribs creak. The Kryptonian's grip lifts him clean off the floor. His cloak dangles, his shadows flail uselessly against a god who doesn't feel pain.
Superman's eyes glow, bright and merciless. For a heartbeat, Kade sees his death.
And then —
Batman's voice.
Not from Superman. Not from the Tower. From inside his own head.
"If the League can't be saved, shut us down. No hesitation."
Kade freezes.
Every Cadmus instinct screams at him to do it. To finish this. To end them.
His gauntlet hums. The Kryptonite spike in his arm reconfigures, ready to drive straight through Superman's chest. One thrust. One death.
But his hand won't move.
The internal war is louder than the chaos around him:"I'm not Batman. I'm not Cadmus. I'm—"
The sentence never finishes.
Superman tightens his grip. Pain explodes across Kade's ribs.
Kade dangling helplessly in Superman's grasp, his gauntlet trembling inches from the Kryptonian's chest, his own shadow-armor straining to keep him from being crushed.
His face — caught between rage, fear, and something else: the terror of becoming exactly what Cadmus made him.
Phantom (hoarse, barely audible): "I can't."
The word costs him everything.
And in that moment of hesitation, Superman swings.
The world goes white as Kade's body smashes through a reinforced bulkhead, the impact rattling the entire Command Center.
The world is a blur of pain and static.
Kade lies crumpled in the wreckage of a shattered bulkhead, air burning in his lungs, ribs screaming with every shallow breath. Blood trickles from his lip. His ears ring, but he can still hear them — the slow, heavy footsteps of gods approaching.
Superman. Wonder Woman. Lantern. J'onn. Marvel.Closing in.
His shadow clones have evaporated. His cloak hangs in tatters.
For a moment, he thinks about staying down.
Just letting them finish it.
And then he hears Batman again.
"If the League can't be saved, shut us down. No hesitation."
The words feel different this time. No longer a burden. A permission.
The shadows erupt.
They whip out violently, a black storm carving gouges into the deck plating. They crawl up his arms, his legs, his torso — forging new armor out of darkness. His broken cloak reforms into a jagged, spectral shroud. His gauntlets hiss as compartments slide open, exposing every weapon Batman left him.
He drags himself up, slow and deliberate, until he's standing again.
Close-up: His face. No fear. No hesitation. Just cold, Cadmus-born clarity.
Phantom (low, steady): "I'm done."
His voice echoes through the chamber, sharp enough to cut the silence.
He rolls his shoulders, shadow-tendrils snapping in the air like whips.
Phantom: "I tried it Batman's way."
His eyes lift, glowing faintly in the dark.
Phantom: "Now I'm doing it mine."
Shadows swirl around him like a vortex, forming claws, blades, armor. A living weapon.
Phantom (snarling): "Time to do what I was bred for."
He slams his gauntleted fist against his chest, and the Watchtower trembles as every shadow in the room spikes outward in a single, violent pulse.
Phantom (shouting): "I'm going to kill you fucks."
---
Silence.
Then the shadows scream.
They rip outward from Phantom in every direction, tearing gouges through metal like paper. The room plunges into strobing darkness, emergency lights flickering as if even the Watchtower itself is afraid.
Phantom steps forward, every movement deliberate, a soldier walking into execution mode. His shadow-armor shifts and reforms constantly — claws, blades, jagged spikes — a living arsenal.
Superman lunges first.
But Phantom isn't defensive anymore. He meets him head-on, shadows slamming into the Kryptonian's knees and throat, jerking him off balance. Phantom drives the Kryptonite spike deep into Superman's side, twisting it until the Man of Steel drops to one knee, roaring in pain.
Phantom (low, venomous): "Stay down."
Wonder Woman charges.
Her blade arcs down — Phantom's shadows catch her wrist mid-swing, twisting unnaturally until she drops the sword. He steps in close, planting a gauntlet across her face. A sonic discharge detonates point-blank. She stumbles, dazed, before a shadow-tendril whips her across the room into a reinforced wall.
Green Lantern tries to intervene.
A glowing construct fist barrels toward Phantom — but the shadows snake up Lantern's arm and constrict at the source of the ring's projection. He yanks hard, slamming Lantern's head into the deck with a sickening crack.
Phantom: "You're next."
Martian Manhunter phases through the floor — but Phantom was waiting for it.
His shadows dig into the metal, trapping J'onn mid-phase. The Martian howls as the darkness floods him, forcing him back into physical form. Phantom doesn't hesitate. He slams J'onn against the deck three times, each hit leaving a crater.
Captain Marvel comes from above.
Phantom throws a shadow-clone up to intercept. It doesn't stop Marvel, but it slows him. Long enough for Phantom to teleport behind him and drive a gauntlet blade between his shoulder blades. The enchanted steel sparks against Marvel's magic-charged body, sending the hero sprawling.
Phantom stands alone in the center of the Command Center, chest heaving, shadow-armor bristling like a nightmare made flesh.
The League — gods among men — lie broken and reeling around him.
And for the first time since waking up, Phantom feels calm.
Cut to: Watchtower Observation Deck.
Savage and Klarion watch from a live feed.
Klarion is practically vibrating, his grin unnaturally wide — but there's no humor in his voice.
Klarion: "Ohhhhhh, that's new. Your little Bat-pet isn't playing anymore."
Savage doesn't answer right away. His hand tightens behind his back, his smile restrained. Calculating.
Savage: "No… he isn't."
For the first time in millennia, Vandal Savage looks concerned.
Cut back to Phantom.
The shadows shift and pulse around him like a living storm. His breathing slows, every inch the weapon Cadmus designed him to be.
Phantom (quietly, to himself): "This ends now."
He raises his hand, shadows coalescing into a massive spear, aimed straight at Superman's heart.
--
Command Center Entrance.
The Bioship clamps onto the Watchtower.
No one speaks as the hatch drops. Just the sound of boots hitting steel. Every step feels heavier than the last.
Robin leads the way, his gauntlet feeding them a live schematic of the Watchtower interior. But they don't need it to find Phantom.
They just follow the trail.
Bodies.
Plastic Man — frozen mid-morph, cracked like a half-shattered statue.Black Canary — crumpled against the wall, her throat bruised where shadows had cut off her scream.Captain Atom — flickering, leaking unstable energy, unconscious but alive.
Zatanna covers her mouth.
Zatanna (whispering): "Oh my god…"
Kid Flash forces a nervous laugh that doesn't land.
Kid Flash: "He… didn't kill them. That's good, right? That's—"
He stops when he sees Wonder Woman's dented armor embedded in a bulkhead.
Miss Martian brushes past them all, telepathically scanning the fallen.
Miss Martian: "They're alive. Unconscious… but alive."
Artemis draws an arrow anyway.
Artemis: "Alive for now."
They push deeper, the tension ratcheting with every turn.
The sound hits them first.
Not words. Not footsteps.
Breathing. Slow. Steady. Predatory.
They enter the Command Center.
And freeze.
Wide shot:
The League's mightiest — Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel, Hawkgirl — strewn across the room. Their bodies twisted, armor dented, breathing shallow. Not dead. But beaten.
And at the center of it all:
Phantom.
He doesn't look like Kade anymore.
He's draped in living shadow-armor, jagged and pulsating like it's feeding off the chaos. His cloak is shredded, reforged into a flowing shroud of darkness. His gauntlets are fully deployed, compartments humming with lethal purpose.
And in his hands — a spear of pure shadow, wicked and barbed.
The tip hovers inches from Superman's chest.
Superman.
For a heartbeat, no one moves.
Then Robin finds his voice.
Robin (yelling): "Phantom, stop! They're not lost — we have a cure!"
The word hangs in the air like a lifeline.
Close-up: Phantom freezes.
His shadows twitch, coiling and uncoiling, like they can't decide whether to strike or obey. For the first time since the fight began, he falters.
The Team fans out behind him.
Artemis lowers her bow. Zatanna whispers a spell under her breath, ready to cast if needed. Miss Martian's eyes glow faintly as she braces for a telepathic lock.
They're all ready to move. But none of them do.
Because right now, everything hangs on what Phantom chooses.
Kade's chest heaves. The batarang Batman left him is still clenched in his off-hand. His entire body shakes — not from exhaustion, but from the war inside his head.
The spear of shadow quivers.
For a long moment, no one breathes.
Command Center.
Phantom's head turns slowly, his glowing eyes locking on Robin first, then Aqualad.
For a moment, no one knows which version of Kade they're looking at — the boy Batman tried to save, or the weapon Cadmus built.
His voice breaks the silence.
Phantom (low, steady): "Maybe it is."
The shadows on the spear writhe, twisting like living things.
Phantom: "But I'm going to do this."
Before anyone can react, he pivots and hurls the spear with lethal precision.
It sails across the Command Center — slamming through the live feed projection and embedding itself deep into Savage's shoulder on the other side of the screen.
Savage's composure cracks for the first time. He staggers back, blood blooming across his coat.
Klarion's giddy laugh cuts through the static.
Klarion: "Ohhhhhh… now it's interesting."
Savage just growls, wrenching the spear free, his jaw tight.
Back in the room: Phantom turns to face the Team.
The shadows around him settle, but his eyes are still burning.
Phantom: "Deal with it. I'm done."
He drops the batarang at his feet like a verdict and turns his back on all of them, walking away as if the fight — the League, all of it — no longer matters.
Zatanna can't help it — the corner of her mouth quirks despite herself, a faint blush creeping across her face.
Zatanna (under her breath): "...Okay, that's unfairly hot."
Artemis elbows her hard.
Artemis: "Not the time."
Robin shakes off his shock, stepping forward.
Robin: "You heard him. Get to work. We still have a League to save."
The feed flickers where Phantom's spear tore through the projection, static crawling across the screen like angry veins.
Savage stands with one hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder, the weapon lying on the floor beside him. Even for a man who has lived fifty thousand years, the pain is real.
His usual calm is gone. This is the first time in millennia someone surprised him.
Klarion lounges on the edge of the console, Teekl in his lap, his usual grin stretched wider than ever — but there's no cheer in it.
Klarion: "Ohhh, Vandal… you're losing too many toys."
Savage doesn't answer right away. His gaze stays fixed on the damaged feed, where Phantom's silhouette lingers — a shadow that shouldn't exist.
Savage (low): "He was supposed to be their failsafe. Batman's… control piece."
Klarion cackles.
Klarion: "Looks like Bats built himself a better monster than you did."
Savage doesn't dignify that with a response. He retrieves the spear, inspecting the barbed shadow weapon like it's some alien artifact.
Savage: "This changes things."
Klarion rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist to open a swirling portal.
Klarion: "Yeah, yeah. Big plans, big adjustments. Whatever. But for now? We run before your 'evolved human' gets ideas."
Savage finally lets the corner of his mouth twitch upward — not a smile, but acceptance.
Savage: "Agreed."
The two vanish into the portal, leaving only a cracked projection and the echo of Klarion's sing-song voice:
Klarion: "Bye-bye, little ghost~."
Cut back to the Command Center:
Robin barks orders.
Robin: "M'gann — telepathic link. Zatanna — prep your magic. Everyone else, containment positions. We finish this now."
The Team moves like a machine, executing the cure protocol exactly as in canon. One by one, the compromised League members fall unconscious and stabilize, their bodies relaxing as Savage's control is ripped away.
The chaos fades.
--
The door hisses open.
Kade steps in, slowly, heavily, like every footstep costs him something. His armor is still cracked in places, dried blood smudged across his gauntlets. The spear he formed is gone, but his shadows still cling faintly to his frame — restless, unwilling to settle.
The cryo-pod looms before him, open, waiting.
For a moment, Kade just stares at it. Then, without ceremony, he climbs back in.
The glass feels cold against his back. The frost smell hits his nose. And suddenly he's back where he started: in the dark, in the quiet, alone.
A sound behind him. A voice.
Batman: "You're not supposed to go back in there."
Kade doesn't turn.
Phantom: "Feels like the only place I belong."
Batman steps out of the shadows. He doesn't tower. He doesn't move to pull Kade out. He just… stands there. Watching.
Phantom: "I did what you wanted. I used the files. The contingencies. I fought them like you would."
A pause. His hands tremble slightly on his knees.
Phantom: "And I almost killed them."
His voice cracks, the admission cutting through his carefully constructed Cadmus calm.
Phantom: "Superman was right there. One move, one push, and I would've put him down. And I wanted to. That's the worst part — I wanted to."
Batman doesn't move. Doesn't speak.
Kade finally turns to look at him, eyes wide, raw.
Phantom: "You told me to be better than you. But if Robin hadn't shouted—" (his jaw tightens) "I don't know what I would've done. I don't know who I am when I fight like that. Am I Batman? Am I Cadmus? Or am I just… their weapon, doing what I was bred for?"
The words hang heavy.
Batman steps closer.
He doesn't fill the silence with lectures. He lets it breathe. Then:
Batman: "You didn't kill them."
Phantom: "I almost did."
Batman: "Almost. But you didn't. That matters."
Kade laughs bitterly.
Phantom: "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."
Batman's jaw clenches. He doesn't deny it.
Phantom: "So what now? I fought the League. I fought like a weapon. I don't know if I can be anything else."
Batman finally moves — not closer, but kneeling so they're eye level.
Batman: "You don't figure out who you are in a day. You don't fix this in a single fight. You keep going. You try. Even when it feels like you're failing."
Kade looks down at his hands, still stained with the fight.
Phantom (quietly): "And if I can't?"
Batman's reply is quiet but firm:
Batman: "Then you let the people who care about you pull you back. Like Robin did."
Kade swallows hard. He doesn't answer.
He just leans back against the pod's frame, staring at the ceiling, shadows curling faintly around his arms like they're listening too.
The boy and the Bat in the cryo-chamber — one unsure if he's human, the other too human to admit how much he understands.
Batman turns to leave.
Batman: "When you're ready, come out. The Team wants to see you. Whether you believe it or not, you're one of them."
The door hisses shut, leaving Kade in the cold glow of the pod.
Kade exhales slowly, staring at his reflection in the cryo-glass.
Phantom (whispering): "Do I even want to be?"
The shadows don't answer.