One Week Later — The Beginning of an Impossible Surgery
It took exactly one week to move an idea that should never have existed out of Damian's head and into reality.
A week of whispered conversations, sealed rooms, quantum-encrypted channels, and people who rarely said yes to anything agreeing far too quickly—because they understood what was at stake.
Not power.
Not weapons.
But a man who had given everything and been left with nothing.
Day One — The Minds That Had to Know
The Watchtower's teleportation chamber hummed softly as white light collapsed inward.
Batman stepped forward first.
Then Damian—Robin now, in black combat pants and armored plating that still unsettled half the League.
Raven followed silently, cloak brushing the floor.
They didn't waste time.
Mr. Terrific
Michael Holt barely looked up from the floating lattice of T-spheres until Batman spoke.
"I'm not here for theory," Bruce said. "I'm here for capability."
That got Holt's attention.
Within minutes, Batman displayed the footage.
Solomon Grundy.
The impossible speed.
The way time seemed to hesitate around Batman's movements—not just reaction, but decision-making accelerated beyond normal causality.
Holt froze.
"That's not enhancement," he said quietly. "That's neural overclocking."
Damian activated a hologram beside him.
The original schematic appeared—raw, invasive, brutal.
The Sandevistan prototype.
Then the second model—the refined, stabilized version integrated into Batman's suit.
Holt's breath caught.
"This… this bypasses latency entirely. You're not making the body faster. You're making thought outrun physics."
Batman said nothing.
Holt finally looked at Damian.
"You built this."
Damian didn't deny it.
"What do you need?" Holt asked.
Ray Palmer — The Atom
They found him mid-lecture, explaining teamwork to a table full of heroes.
Batman didn't wait for an opening.
"I need you," he said flatly. "Now."
Palmer blinked.
"For surgery," Bruce added. "On a scale no one has attempted."
Palmer stood up so fast his chair fell over.
"You had me at 'impossible,'" he said, already grabbing his jacket.
The Place No Maps Remember
They didn't go to the Batcave.
They went somewhere older.
Deeper.
A facility buried beneath tectonic fault lines, shielded from satellites, magic, and probability-altering scans—a place Batman used only when the world itself couldn't be trusted.
By nightfall, the core team stood together:
Batman
Robin (Damian Wayne)
Raven
Mr. Terrific
Ray Palmer
No Justice League vote.
No oversight.
No records.
Day Two — Truth Without Comfort
Damian explained everything.
Not the system.
Not the past life.
Just the technology.
"The original Sandevistan," Damian said, rotating the hologram, "was designed to replace the spinal column entirely. It interfaces directly with the brainstem—pons and medulla—amplifying neural throughput and motor signal density."
Palmer grimaced. "That's not an implant. That's a replacement of identity architecture."
"Yes," Damian said calmly.
"And the psychosis?" Holt asked.
"Feedback loops," Damian replied. "Unregulated temporal perception creates dissociation. I fixed it."
Batman watched silently.
"The suit version," Damian continued, "is modular. Removable. Safer. But it relies on an intact nervous system."
He looked up.
"Rick Flag Sr.'s spine is destroyed. The suit won't work."
Raven folded her arms tighter, already knowing what came next.
"The original Sandevistan," Damian said, "can."
Silence fell.
Palmer finally spoke. "You're talking about reconstructing a human being from the inside out."
"Yes."
"And if it fails?"
Damian didn't hesitate.
"He dies."
Batman closed his eyes for half a second.
Then opened them.
"What safeguards?" he asked.
Damian gestured again.
"Hardcoded neural locks. No wireless access. No remote activation. No replication. No regeneration protocols. One user. One lifetime."
Holt nodded slowly. "If this works… it changes medicine."
"If it leaks," Bruce said, voice like ice, "it ends civilization."
Everyone understood.
The Conditions
Batman laid them out clearly.
Rick Flag Sr. is the only recipient.
The technology can never be replicated or removed intact.
Rick Flag Sr. signs a permanent NDA with the Justice League.
The world believes Batman is responsible.
Damian squeezed Raven's hand.
"I accept."
Why They Agreed
They didn't do this for Damian.
They did it because they had all seen Rick Flag Sr.
A soldier who never broke orders.
A man who buried a son and never screamed.
A leader who walked into hell without hesitation—and crawled out broken.
"This isn't about power," Ray Palmer said quietly. "It's about dignity."
Holt nodded. "He deserves the chance to stand again."
Batman looked at his son.
"You understand," Bruce said, "that once this happens, there's no going back."
Damian met his gaze without flinching.
"I know."
Elsewhere — A Man in a Hospital Bed
Rick Flag Sr. stared at the ceiling, feeling nothing below his waist.
The Medal of Honor sat untouched on the table beside him.
He didn't feel like a hero.
He felt like something already buried.
He had no idea—
—that in seven days, a boy who refused to let the world decide who deserved a future was preparing to knock on his door.
And offer him one last impossible choice.