The walk back from the clearing was quieter than the journey there. The morning sun was beginning to burn through the Chicago mist, casting long, sharp shadows of the three Graysons against the pavement. Nolan walked with a rhythmic, effortless stride, his expression unreadable. Behind him, Dick and Mark trailed like battered soldiers. Their clothes were a disaster—shredded fabric, smeared soil, and the unmistakable dusty outline of where Mark had impacted the earth.
"You both need to work on your recovery breathing," Nolan said, not looking back. "If that had been a real engagement, the adrenaline would be fading right now, and the fatigue would be your greatest enemy."
"Kinda hard to breathe when your brother turns you into a human lawn dart, Dad," Mark wheezed, rubbing his ribs.
Dick grinned, despite the ache in his legs. "Maybe if you didn't fly into every punch like a moth to a flame, you'd have some wind left."
When they reached the front door, the banter died instantly. They knew the real boss of the house was waiting.
Debbie Grayson was in the kitchen, the scent of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filling the air—a domestic sanctuary that felt worlds away from the cratered clearing they'd just left. She turned as they entered, and her eyes immediately narrowed.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she sighed, setting down a spatula. She marched over, her gaze jumping from Dick's torn sleeve to the dark bruise forming on Mark's jaw. "Nolan, look at them. They look like they were dragged behind a bus."
"It was just a spar, Deb," Nolan said smoothly, leaning in to give her a quick, placating kiss on the cheek. "Building character and testing limits."
"It looks like building medical bills," she countered, though her voice softened as she reached out to wipe a smudge of dirt from Mark's forehead.
"We're fine, Mom. Honestly," Dick interjected, giving her one of his signature 'everything-is-under-control' smiles. "Mark just wanted to see if the ground was still solid. He confirmed it is."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Ha-ha, very funny. I'm fine, Ma, truly. A shower and some of that bacon, and I'll be good as new."
Debbie lingered for a moment, the worry in her eyes clashing with the pride she tried to hide. "Go. Wash the 'character' off yourselves before you get mud on my carpets."
The brothers scrambled upstairs. Dick hit the shower first, letting the hot water hammer the soreness out of his muscles. Every block he took, every jump he made, he felt it in his bones. But as he looked at his reflection in the steamed-up mirror, he didn't see that normal guy anymore. He saw a character being forged.
By the time they came back downstairs, dressed in clean school clothes, the tension had evaporated. They ate breakfast with a ravenous hunger that only superhumans(or beasts) could manage. As they grabbed their bags to head out, Dick stopped, leaning over to give Debbie a quick, lingering hug, then a quick one for Nolan too. It was a ritual—a reminder that no matter how much they trained to be gods, they were still a family.
"And remember," Debbie called out as they hit the porch. "No racing to school. I mean it. I don't want a call from the authorities about two idiots breaking the sound barrier on 5th Street."
"Yes, Ma'am," they said in unison and left.
The duo walked in silence for exactly two blocks until they turned the corner, effectively breaking line-of-sight with the house. Mark looked at Dick. Dick looked at Mark. A predatory grin broke across both their faces.
"Last one there buys lunch?" Mark challenged.
"You're on, 'Pigeonboy'."
Mark took off like a shot, his feet leaving the pavement as he angled upward, a blur of blue and orange against the skyline. Dick didn't have wings, but he had something else. He pivoted, kicking off a brick mailbox with a crack of redirected kinetic energy, vaulting himself onto a low roof. He sprinted across the shingles, leaping gaps between buildings with the grace of a panther, using the city's architecture as his personal playground.
By the time the red-brick facade of Reginald Vel Johnson High School appeared, Mark was already landing behind a row of yellow buses, dusting off his shirt. Dick vaulted the final fence seconds later, landing in a silent crouch, his lungs burning but his spirit soaring.
"Too slow," Mark teased, though his eyes showed a flicker of genuine shock at how close Dick had been.
"I had to wait for the light," Dick joked, straightening his jacket.
As they entered the halls, the social hierarchy of the school shifted around them. Mark tended to blend into the background, a 'regular' kid trying to survive. Dick, however, was the entire opposite. He moved through the hallways with a charismatic ease, nodding to seniors and flashing smiles at a group of girls near the lockers who whispered as he passed. Unlike Mark, Dick had mastered the art of being seen.
"Hey, look, it's the dynamic duo," a voice called out.
William Clockwell caught up to them, his light brown hair perfectly styled. He had been their first real friend at RVJ, a bond sealed ever since Dick had physically moved a bully named Todd out of William's personal space a year prior.
"Did you guys see the news this morning?" William asked, his voice low and excited. "The Mauler Twins tried to hit the White House. The freaking 'WHITE HOUSE' for christ's sake. Then the Guardians of the Globe showed up where War Woman literally threw a tank at them. It was insane."
"Yeah, we heard," Mark said, his voice tinged with a strange mix of awe and melancholy.
The trio turned a corner toward the cafeteria, still talking about the recent events, when the mood shifted.
A small crowd had gathered, and the familiar, grating voice of Todd Jefferson cut through the ambient noise. Todd, a stocky blonde who survived on a diet of ego and intimidation, was currently towering over a girl with long blonde hair and sharp, intelligent blue eyes.
Amber Bennett.
"I'm just saying, Amber, a girl like you shouldn't be carrying all these heavy books," Todd sneered, his hand gripping her backpack strap to keep her from walking away. "Let a real man help you out."
Dick's hand tightened on his bag. He began to step forward—his usual role as the 'Anti-Bully'—but a hand caught his shoulder. He turned to see Mark. Mark wasn't looking at him; he was staring at Todd with a cold, unwavering determination Dick hadn't seen before.
You sure? Dick's eyes asked.
Mark gave a single, firm nod.
Dick stepped back, a small smirk playing on his lips, and gestured toward the scene. All yours.
Mark walked into the circle. "Hey, Todd. I think she said she was fine."
Todd turned, his lip curling. He looked at Mark, then glanced back at Dick, who was leaning against a locker with his arms crossed, watching like a spectator at a play. Seeing that Dick wasn't immediately intervening, Todd's confidence returned.
"Stay out of this, Grayson. This doesn't involve the 'freak' twins."
"Actually, it does," Mark said, his voice remarkably calm. "Let her go."
Todd let out a bark of a laugh and, without warning, swung a heavy, meaty fist straight into Mark's chest.
The sound was like a hammer hitting an anvil—a dull, metallic thud that echoed in the hallway. Mark didn't even blink. He didn't move an inch. Todd, however, let out a muffled whimper as the shockwave of the impact traveled back up his own arm.
"That all you got?" Mark asked quietly.
Todd's face went pale. He swung again, then again—desperate, frantic punches that landed on Mark's shoulders and chest like pebbles hitting a mountain. Mark stood there, a wall of living stone, simply watching him.
"You fucking... you're freaks!" Todd finally yelled, his voice cracking with genuine terror. He turned and bolted down the hall, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.
The silence in the hall was thick. Amber looked at Mark, her eyebrows raised in a mix of confusion and genuine interest. "I... I had that under control, you know. But thanks."
"I know you did," Mark said, rubbing the back of his neck, his 'tough guy' persona vanishing instantly into his usual awkwardness. "I'm Mark. I don't think we've officially met, even though I've seen you in Lit."
"Amber," she replied, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. "I know who you are. You're Dick's brother."
Dick caught William's eye and winked. "Come on, Will. Let's leave the hero to his reward." The two of them slipped away into the crowd, leaving Mark and Amber to their own world, a rare moment of normalcy for a boy who had spent his morning being thrown through trees.
—-------------------
The walk home that afternoon felt different. The adrenaline of the school day had faded, replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. As they approached their house, Mark pulled Dick toward a secluded corner behind a row of overgrown hedges.
"Dick, look," Mark said, his voice dropping to a whisper. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a bundle of fabric.
It was a homemade mess. An orange long-sleeved shirt, blue athletic pants, and a crudely stitched face mask meant to hide his features. It was a prototype, but the intent was there.
Dick looked at the suit, then at his brother. "Bro... are you serious? We talked about this. We aren't ready."
"When will we be, Dude?" Mark countered, his voice rising with a sudden, sharp passion. "People are getting hurt. Todd is a jerk, but there are real monsters out there. If we have this power and we just sit in class doing algebra, what does that make us?"
"It makes us smart," Dick snapped. "If we go out there and we mess up—if someone dies because we were playing dress-up before we knew how to handle a real crisis—who bears that? Not the police. Not the villains. Us. That's a weight you don't just put down, Mark."
Mark gripped the orange fabric tight. "I know the risks. But Dad didn't get this strong by sitting at home. We need field experience. We need to know what it's actually like to save someone."
The two brothers stood in the deepening shadows, the prototype a bright, neon reminder of the line they were about to cross. Dick looked at Mark's determined face—the same face that had stood up to Todd, the same face that had crashed into the dirt that morning and gotten back up.
"Fine," Dick said softly. "But we do this together. We're careful. We don't take risks we can't handle. Agreed?"
Mark's face broke into a relieved grin. "Agreed."