I adjusted the knot of my charcoal-black silk tie in the reflection of the cabin window, smoothing down the lapels of my tailored three-piece suit. Across from me in the plush leather seats of the private jet, Dick Grayson was doing the same with his navy blazer, looking every bit the polished, aristocratic heir to Wayne Enterprises.
Wally sat two rows down, his legs kicked up over an adjoining seat while he aggressively worked his way through a family-sized bag of roasted peanuts, tossing them into his mouth.
Conner sat across from him in a fitted dark suit that looked ready to split along the seams if he flexed even slightly, his blue eyes scanning rapidly through holographic datapad files on the H.I.V.E. Academy's public tax filings and private architectural schematics.
Dick leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes narrowing slightly as the cabin hummed around us. "So, Caius. Did that goddess give you any more intel on the demigod child being held in this ring? Or any specifics on Raven's condition?"
I shook my head, exhaling slowly. "No. Aphrodite was cryptic and infuriatingly open all at the same time. Classic Olympian behavior. But given what she said, I wouldn't put it past Zeus if that kid is another one of his bastards. Something tells me no matter what millennium we live in, the old man will stick his dick into anything that moves."
Right on cue, a crack of thunder violently rattled the fuselage. The private jet suddenly dropped fifty feet in heavy mountain turbulence, the cabin shuddering around us as atmospheric pressure slammed against the pressurized hull.
Wally froze mid-chew, his hand hovering over the peanut bag. He swallowed hard, glancing nervously toward the ceiling.
"Hey, Caius? Can you maybe not insult the King of the Gods while we're flying through his literal domain? Like, please?"
I shrugged casually, completely unfazed by the drop. "I'm practically immortal, Wally, so it doesn't really bother me. Plus, he's my great-grandfather. I doubt he's going to blow up Dick's jet over a little family truth."
Dick raised an index finger without looking up from his cufflinks. "Actually, it's Bruce's jet. We're borrowing it. Which means if Zeus does blast it out of the sky, Bruce will somehow find a way to bill both of us for every square inch of carbon fiber."
Conner swiped away a schematic on his datapad, frowning. "I still don't get why we didn't just take the Bioship. We could have cloaked and been over the target hours ago without dealing with flight plans or radar."
"Because the girls took the Bioship yesterday," Dick answered smoothly. "They needed to insert into the country completely undetected so they could used thed established covert identities inside the underground ring itself. If a Martian vessel popped up on international radar while two high-profile billionaire executives were scheduled to land in Zurich on a legitimate diplomatic visit, H.I.V.E.'s counter-intel would have flagged the connection instantly."
Dick turned his gaze back to me, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Speaking of which, Caius... how come you don't own a private jet? Olympian Designs pulls in enough government and commercial revenue to buy a whole fleet."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Because I can fly at Mach speeds whenever I feel like it. And it's not exactly a secret that the world knows me as the son of an Amazon. The Superior persona is new, but having a distinct civilian identity is useful so people don't try to sue my company for collateral property damage every time I punch an alien through a bridge."
"Fair point," Dick admitted. "Still, let's keep our heads on straight, guys. As much as I want to find Raven and bring her home safely, we have to maintain cover until the perimeter is locked down. This entire academy is wired with military-grade surveillance. Wally, that means if you have to move through the building, you're vibrating through walls at phased frequency, not sprinting through the corridors leaving red streaks on the security feed."
Wally nodded, brushing peanut dust off his slacks. "Yeah, yeah. Phasing only. I got it."
"And remember," Dick added, his voice dropping into that quiet, absolute tone he got when leading a strike team. "If things go sideways, our primary directive is getting those children out alive before we worry about ourselves. The Justice League and the Titans reserve units are on standby in high orbit, but the extraction falls entirely on us."
Wally's posture straightened, the casual slacker attitude evaporating as he looked at Dick with dead seriousness. "Look, Dick. I know we made a pact when we took on mentoring younger heroes to put their lives before our own. But I don't like the idea of leaving any of you behind either. You guys are my brothers. I'd die for every single one of you, but I want all four of us living long enough to get gray hair and complain about our joints."
The cabin fell quiet for a second.
I looked over at Dick. Dick looked over at Conner. Conner turned his gaze slowly to Wally.
"Gay!" the three of us shouted in unison with deadpan mockery.
The entire cabin erupted into laughter. Wally groaned, throwing a peanut directly at my forehead, where it flattened harmlessly against my skin and dropped to the carpet.
"Ha-ha," Dick said, wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. "Wow, Wally. So sentimental. But seriously, man, I feel the exact same way. When we put on these suits, we knew the risks. Doesn't mean we're looking to throw our lives away for nothing."
"Agreed," I said, leaning back into my seat with a grin. "Leave the dangerous, life-threatening, world-ending beatdowns to me. I'm easily the most durable guy in this cabin."
Conner glanced over, his jaw tightening with competitive pride. "That's debatable."
"Is it?" I smirked. "Well, Conner, when this mission is over, you and I can go a few more rounds in the Fortress VR room and see who takes the bigger beating before tapping out."
Before Conner could take the bait, the chime of the cabin intercom broke through the chatter, followed by Alfred's impeccably calm British voice from the cockpit.
"Master Grayson, Master Dawn, Master West, and Master Kent. We are on final descent toward the H.I.V.E. Academy airspace. Please prepare yourselves for arrival. The welcoming committee appears to be assembling on the tarmac."
"Thanks, Alfred," Dick replied, tapping his comm unit.
We turned our attention to the windows. Below us, the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps cut through the thin clouds like frozen daggers. Built directly into the sheer face of a massive mountain was the H.I.V.E. Academy.
From above, it looked almost organic, seamlessly integrated into the natural rock formations. Gleaming white stone spires reached toward the sky, interlocked with colossal geometric glass atriums that caught the pale alpine sunlight. The surrounding peaks were buried under permanent snowbanks, but not a single snowflake touched the academy grounds. The entire campus was enveloped in an invisible, localized thermal dome, maintaining a pristine, climate-controlled paradise of lush green courtyards and manicured terraces amidst the frozen wilderness.
Carved into the side of the mountain was a private, heated runway and docking bay wide enough to house commercial airliners.
Wally whistled low. "They built a supervillain fortress inside an alpine mountain. That is textbook evil lair design right there."
"And they own a private commercial-grade runway," Conner muttered, adjusting his earpiece. "Not bad for an elite prep school."
"Rich kids have to get back to campus after winter break somehow," I noted, watching the landing gear engage. "And considering the amount of political bribery H.I.V.E. shells out to European governments, nobody asks questions about the construction permits."
Dick adjusted his jacket, a sly grin on his face.
"The elite of the elite. Prep school snobs with trust funds and metahuman capabilities. Be ready for some absolute ankle-biters, gentlemen."
"Conner should fit right in, then," I teased.
Conner shot me a glare. "You know I'm physically nineteen, right?"
Wally chimed in instantly. "Yeah, but technically you were grown in a Cadmus cloning tube ten years ago. Which means half these seventh graders are technically older than you, big guy."
Conner's eyes flared with a brief flash of crimson.
Wally squeaked, instantly diving behind my broad shoulders. "Whoa, whoa! Easy with the laser eyes, Conner! It was a joke! Caius, protect me!"
"Real brave, Wally," I muttered, shaking my head as the jet's wheels touched down smoothly against the heated tarmac.
The jet decelerated rapidly, taxiing toward the main entrance hangar before coming to a complete stop. Alfred powered down the engines and stepped out of the cockpit, opening the cabin door with practiced elegance.
"All right, gentlemen," Dick murmured, settling into his billionaire persona. "It's showtime."
Wally and Conner stepped off the plane first, adopting rigid, stoic postures as our personal private security detail. Dick walked down the ramp right behind them. As I reached the exit, Alfred caught my eye, giving a subtle, barely perceptible nod.
"I sent the private encrypted transmission, Master Caius," Alfred murmured quietly under his breath. "He confirmed receipt. He will be in position on the perimeter and will keep an eye out for both primary targets."
I smirked faintly. "Thanks, Alfred. Keep the engines warm."
As we descended the boarding stairs, a long black luxury limousine was already idling on the tarmac, its chauffeur standing by the open rear door. Standing beside the vehicle was a middle-aged woman dressed in a sharp, conservative gray tweed skirt suit, complete with cat-eye reading glasses hanging from a silver chain around her neck.
Her hair was pinned back in a tidy bun, giving her the appearance of a stern university librarian GILF, but the predatory glint in her dark eyes told a completely different story.
Headmistress Good.
"Ah, Mr. Dawn. Mr. Grayson," she said smoothly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. "Gentlemen, welcome to Switzerland. We are truly honored to host such distinguished leaders of industry at our humble academy."
"Headmistress Good, the honor is all ours," I said, stepping up and taking her hand.
The moment our fingers clasped, I felt an intense, crushing pressure against my knuckles. It was subtle, designed not to tear skin, but the woman had the grip strength of an industrial vice. Nothing normal.
I smiled effortlessly, matching her pressure with enough Viltrumite density to make her knuckles stiffen slightly before letting go.
Dick stepped forward and shook her hand next, letting out a small, polite chuckle. "Goodness, Headmistress. That is quite the powerful grip you have there."
She laughed warmly, adjusting her glasses. "A woman in my position has to stay sharp, Mr. Grayson. Keeps an old lady like me in proper shape. Regular Pilates, free weights, and cold-water swimming. Discipline of the mind begins with discipline of the body."
I raised an eyebrow, laying the charm on thick. "Well, Ms. Good, whatever routine you're running, it's clearly working. You don't look a day over thirty."
A pleased smile crossed her lips, her eyes lingering on me for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Dawn. Now, please, step inside the vehicle. The Headmaster is exceedingly eager to meet with you both."
"Wait, the Headmaster himself?" Dick asked, feigning pleasant surprise. "I was under the impression he was rarely on campus during midterm reviews."
"Headmaster Blud returned from an urgent philanthropic trip to the United States only two days ago," she explained, gesturing us toward the limousine. "He cleared his entire afternoon specifically for Olympian Designs and Wayne Enterprises. The thoughtof expanding the academy is a great concern of his."
Two days ago, I thought, my jaw subtly clenching as I climbed into the limousine. That matched the exact timeline Aphrodite gave me for when they abducted Raven. The intel was spot on.
The drive up the spiraling mountain road through the thermal dome was brief. Inside the vehicle, Headmistress Good maintained a constant stream of polished conversation, extolling the academy's virtues.
"Our donors provide the foundation for true global leadership," she said, clasping her hands over her knees. "We run several international charity drives throughout the term. In fact, our annual campus blood drive is taking place this week. If either of you gentlemen would like to contribute, our medical wing is always open."
I offered a polite, regretful smile. "I'm afraid that'll be difficult in my case, Headmistress. My unique maternal physiology makes my skin dense enough that standard medical needles shatter on contact. Only specialized Amazonian forge materials or specific surgical lasers can draw blood."
"Ah, yes," she murmured, studying me with clinical curiosity. "The blessings of Themysciran heritage. Truly fascinating."
Good thing the public doesn't know about my Viltrumite heritage too. For once, having the world believe I was simply an Amazon demigod was the perfect smoke screen.
The limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the central atrium. When the doors opened, we stepped out onto polished white marble beneath a soaring glass dome.
Waiting for us on the grand steps was a choir of roughly thirty children, aged ten to thirteen, all dressed in pristine black uniforms with bright yellow piping along the collars and sleeves. As we stepped forward, an orchestra of young students began playing classical instruments with mechanical precision, accompanied by an immaculate, eerily synchronized cheerleading routine.
They sang a traditional Swiss welcoming hymn, their voices harmonizing in perfect pitch, their smiles wide and flawless.
When the performance concluded, we applauded politely. The students bowed in unison, turned on their heels with military precision, and marched back into the sprawling corridors behind them.
"A truly wonderful performance," Dick praised smoothly.
"We pride ourselves on excellence in every discipline," Headmistress Good said, leading us through the towering arched doorway into the main facility.
The interior was staggering. Vast marble corridors stretched in every direction, lined with classical bronze statues, indoor water fountains, and sprawling botanical gardens beneath glass skylights. But beneath the luxury, the reality was impossible to miss. High-definition surveillance nodes and biometric scanners were embedded into every single archway, ceiling corner, and wall panel.
Conner stepped up slightly behind my right shoulder, leaning in just enough to whisper into my ear at a sub-vocal frequency.
"This entire facility is shielded with a dense lead lattice beneath the marble. I can't see through the floors or deeper into the mountain."
I gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"The Headmaster is concluding a brief conference call with our board of directors," Headmistress Good said, pausing at a grand security checkpoint guarded by armed sentries in black combat armor. "Before I escort you to the executive lounge, there is one small campus protocol we must observe."
She turned, her sharp eyes flicking toward Wally and Conner. "I neglected to ask earlier, are your security personnel registered metahumans?"
Dick and I exchanged a casual glance. "Not to our knowledge," Dick replied easily. "Why do you ask?"
"Campus policy," she said sweetly. She signaled a guard, who brought forward a silver tray holding four sleek, black metallic bracelets etched with glowing crimson circuitry. "All guests and security contractors must wear bio-monitoring bands while on campus grounds. They allow our security network to track your location in the event of an alpine emergency, and they safely damp active metagene frequencies."
So power dampeners, I thought instantly.
Dick smiled, holding out his empty wrists. "Well, I'm just a normal human, Headmistress. I doubt you need to worry about me shooting lasers from my eyes."
"A formality, Mr. Grayson," she said gently. "Even baseline humans must wear them for security clearance."
"Understood," Dick nodded, allowing the guard to snap a bracelet onto his wrist.
Headmistress Good then picked up a bracelet and stepped directly into my personal space. Her fingers brushed against my forearm, lingering slowly over my skin in a gesture that was far more sensual than professional. Her dark eyes locked onto mine, a subtle smirk playing on her lips as she snapped the band shut around my wrist.
"See?" she purred softly. "Not so bad at all."
I kept my charming billionaire smile firmly in place, not letting on that the moment the dampener locked against my skin show weakness.
"Luke, Han," I said, glancing back at Conner and Wally using their cover names. "Put them on. We follow house rules."
"Yes, sir," Conner and Wally answered in unison, strapping the dampeners on without hesitation.
Headmistress Good checked a handheld digital scanner, watching the status lights turn green. "Splendid. All clear. Now, if you gentlemen will follow me, refreshments are waiting."
Dick cleared his throat politely, tapping his pocket. "Pardon me, Headmistress, but is there a restroom nearby? Long flight."
She smiled graciously. "Just down the corridor to your left, Mr. Grayson. And do not worry about the band, it is entirely waterproof."
"Glad to hear it," Dick replied, turning down the hall.
Once inside the lavish marble restroom, Dick immediately checked every corner with a micro-optical scanner concealed in his signet ring. No cameras. No thermal sensors.
Knowing the bracelet likely carried an embedded audio transmitter, he kept his mouth shut. He leaned against the sink, slipped off his right dress shoe, and twisted the heel forty-five degrees.
A tiny pneumatic hiss sounded, and a microscopic figure materialized from the hidden compartment, expanding into a six-inch-tall Bumblebee hovering on translucent insectoid wings.
Dick leaned down, whispering at a barely audible breath. "Sorry you had to stay cooped up in the sole of my shoe since Zurich, Karen."
Bumblebee stretched her arms, shaking her head as her bio-suit crackled with yellow bio-electric energy. "It's fine. Haven't compressed to micro-scale in months, so my joints needed a minute to calibrate anyway. I'm hitting the ventilation shafts now. Let's see what dirty laundry H.I.V.E. is hiding in their mainframe."
With a silent burst of speed, Bumblebee shot upward into the air exhaust grate, slipping seamlessly past the fan blades.
Dick slipped his shoe back on, adjusted his suit jacket, and stepped out of the restroom into the grand corridor.
As he turned the corner, he nearly collided with two preteen children walking side by side down the center of the hall.
"Whoa....sorry about that," Dick said instinctively, taking a half-step back.
He looked down, and the words died in his throat.
The children were twins, no older than ten or eleven, possessing radiant light-brown skin and striking, jet-black hair. The girl's hair was cropped short, framing a face that was unnervingly calm and expressionless. The boy had a loose mid fade, his jaw set in a vicious scowl.
Dick stared at the boy's face, a sudden, cold wave of déjà vu washing over him. The bone structure, the piercing green eyes, the aristocratic tilt of the chin, it was like looking at a miniature Bruce?
"Watch where you are walking, peasant," the boy spat, his voice razor-sharp and dripping with cold contempt.
Dick blinked, caught off guard by the sheer venom in a ten-year-old's voice. "I said I was sorry, kid. Honest mistake. No need to get aggressive."
The boy turned his head slightly to face Dick, his hands resting naturally near his hips. "Mistakes like that would get a commoner's foot severed at the ankle in my grandfather's court. Count yourself fortunate. Do it again, and your head will meet the marble."
The girl placed a single, calm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Damian. That is enough. We have duties to attend to."
The boy glared at Dick for one more second before clicking his tongue in irritation. "Fine."
The girl turned her sharp, calculating gaze toward Dick, bowing her head by a fraction of an inch. "Apologies for my sibling's lack of decorum, sir. A fine evening to you."
Without waiting for a response, the two children turned on their heels and walked down the hallway with terrifying, predatory grace.
Dick stood frozen for a moment, watching their retreating backs with wide eyes.
"Whose balls did that little psycho drop out of?"
Dick muttered under his breath, shaking off the chill. He tapped his cufflink, quickening his pace back toward the executive lounge. "I just hope Donna and the girls underground aren't having an even worse time than we are."
Ten Miles Below the H.I.V.E. Academy
The air down here tasted of ozone, expensive perfume, high-grade narcotics, and blood.
The underground facility was colossal, a subterranean den of vice designed in repeating hexagonal chambers that glowed under pulsating red and purple neon lights. Heavy, rhythmic bass thudded through the reinforced deck plates, shaking the air as half-naked dancers spun on chrome poles across elevated stages. High-roller clientele, corrupt politicians, cartel leaders, corporate oligarchs, and rogue diplomats, lounged across velvet couches, drinking champagne and snorting synthetic stimulants off glass tables.
Weaving through the crowded floor were waitresses dressed in skintight, high-cut black and yellow "bee girl" leotards, carrying silver trays of narcotics, exotic alcohol, and high-stakes auction menus.
Donna Troy walked through the crowd carrying a tray loaded with crystal glasses, internally screaming with pure rage.
I look completely ridiculous in this damn outfit, Donna thought furiously, resisting the urge to tug at the leotard that was riding aggressively up her ass and putting her ample cleavage on full display for every degenerate in the room.
Why did Kara get to be reassigned to the Warworld team while I'm stuck down here wearing bee antennas? I would rather carve my way through a legion of Parademons with my bare hands than spend another second in these four-inch stilettos.
A fellow waitress with long red hair stepped up beside her, pretending to wipe down an adjoining cocktail table. She was Lilith Clay or Omen in disguise.
"Eyes up, D," Lilith murmured under her breath, her telepathic voice buzzing directly into Donna's mind. "We're being watched from the balcony."
Donna subtly shifted her gaze upward toward the massive golden dais overlooking the entire hexagonal amphitheater.
Seated on a gilded, honeycomb-carved throne was Queen Bee.
She was stunning in the most lethal way imaginable. Radiant dark skin, piercing blue-gray eyes, and flowing, jet-black hair crowned with a golden diadem. Golden stinger earrings dangled against her neck. She wore a strapless, ultra-short black minidress lined with gold hexagonal embroidery along the seams, paired with thigh-high stiletto boots and a translucent pale-gold silk veil draped elegantly over her shoulders.
She leaned back on her throne, watching the depravity below with the detached amusement of an empress overseeing cattle.
Through the pounding club music, Donna's enhanced hearing caught the muffled sounds of cheering and cruel laughter coming from a massive, blast-reinforced steel door on the far wall. Above the frame, glowing neon letters read: RED ROOM — VIP ONLY.
Two massive, brutes in tactical plate armor stood guard before the door, occasionally parting to allow wealthy patrons and select waitresses inside.
Donna knew what was behind that door. That was where the trafficking auction was taking place. Where the stolen metahuman children, the demigod spawn, and the true horrors of this facility were being bought and sold.
She needed to get through that door.
Before Donna could move, a sharp snap of fingers drew her attention toward a secluded VIP booth near the edge of the dance floor.
Two women sat at the table, radiating an aura of cold, lethal authority that instantly cut through the club's hedonistic atmosphere.
The first woman was breathtaking. She possessed a rich olive complexion, radiant hazel-green eyes, and sleek, raven-black hair falling past her shoulders in luxurious waves. She wore a skintight, emerald-green silk gown with a plunging neckline that showcased an immense amount of cleavage, paired with a slit that ran all the way up to her hip.
Beside her sat a woman of East Asian descent, possessing a warm beige complexion, sharp, calculating black eyes, and jet-black hair cropped cleanly at the base of her neck. She was dressed in a razor-sharp tailored black business suit with a crimson dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
Every instinct Donna possessed screamed that these two women could slaughter half the room without breaking a sweat.
Donna approached the table, keeping her waitress persona intact. "Good evening, ladies. How may I serve you today?"
The olive-skinned woman looked Donna up and down, her gaze lingering on the Amazon's toned physique with clinical assessment. When she spoke, her voice carried a melodic, faintly Middle Eastern accent but was mixed with a tinge of Posh English.
"I have no interest in drinks, girl," the woman said smoothly. "I require immediate entry into the VIP Red Room. Bring me your Queen. I am told a five-million-dollar wire transfer is the standard entrance fee. So tell me, does she prefer cash, card, or will ancient jewelry suffice?"
She gestured toward a velvet satchel on the table, overflowing with uncut rubies, diamonds, and solid gold ingots.
Before Donna could respond, the sound of stiletto heels clicking against marble signaled the arrival of Queen Bee herself, accompanied by four armed guards.
"That won't be necessary, Lady Talia," Queen Bee purred, stepping forward with a sharp, predatory smile. "For distinguished guests of your standing, the house waives all entry fees. The Red Room is at your complete disposal."
Talia al Ghul rose to her feet, smoothing down her emerald gown. She glanced toward Donna, gesturing with a single gloved finger. "Come with us, little bee. In the event we require bottle service inside."
Queen Bee nodded to Donna, waving her forward. "Go with them."
Donna set her tray down, falling into step half a pace behind Talia and the Asian woman as they approached the reinforced red blast doors.
As the guards stepped aside, Talia leaned slightly toward Donna, her lips brushing just inches from the Amazon's ear as she whispered in a tone as sharp as a dagger.
"Tell me, little Amazon... exactly how many of your Titans are already inside this mountain? And is the Justice League close behind?"
Donna's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in shock. She reached instinctively for the lasso she didn't have on her hip.
The Asian woman in the suit didn't even turn her head, her voice low and deadpan. "My lady, she is a trained warrior. She will not compromise her strike team either way."
Talia turned her hazel eyes toward Donna, her expression hardening into absolute, merciless command. "Listen to me very carefully, girl. You will tell your little hero squad to hold their assault for precisely two more hours until my associate and I extract what we came here to retrieve. Once our business is concluded, you may kick down the doors, play the righteous heroes, and slaughter these pigs to your heart's content if you wish."
Donna's mind raced, desperate to process how their entire undercover operation had been dismantled in seconds.
Talia noticed the look on Donna's face and let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "Oh, look at her, Shiva. She is wondering how we saw through her disguise so effortlessly."
Donna's breath hitched. Shiva?! As in Lady Shiva, the deadliest martial artist on the planet?!
Talia al Ghul is here to?! Why are two of the most dangerous woman here, what could they possibly want, and why not out me entirely?
"Catch your breath, darling," Talia whispered darkly, turning back toward the entrance as the pneumatic locks disengaged. "We are walking into the belly of the beast. And what lies beyond this threshold is not for the faint of heart."
"What are you two doing here?" Donna asked.
"Dear we are just mothers here to retrieve our children from these unsavory bunch thay forgot their place."
Then with a heavy, mechanical hiss, the massive red blast doors slid open.
Donna stepped across the threshold, and the moment her eyes took in the horrific sight waiting inside the chamber, her breath caught entirely in her throat.