Chapter Text
The crash of bodies on mats echoed through the cavernous sparring room. Artemis hissed as she rolled onto her side, disarmed for the fourth time in ten minutes. Kaldur was flat on his back, breath driven out of him by a brutal sweep. Conner sat against the wall, rubbing his jaw where Robin had used his momentum against him.
Only one of them wasn’t panting.
Robin crouched in the center of the room, hands on his knees, domino mask reflecting the overhead lights. His chest rose and fell steadily—calm, almost bored.
“Stop.”
Black Canary’s voice cut like a blade. The team froze, relief in their eyes.
She stalked forward, glaring at the mess before her. “Pathetic. You’re all leaning on powers, weapons, and tricks. The second those are gone, so are you.”
Artemis scowled. “Without my bow, what do you expect me to—”
Canary’s tone sharpened. “I expect you to adapt. Every one of you. Otherwise, you’ll be corpses on a battlefield before you’re old enough to shave.” Her eyes flicked toward Robin. “Robin. They’re yours.”
Robin straightened, a grin twitching at his lips. “Ohhh, this’ll be fun.”
They were now at the mercy of the little bat
...
It wasn’t fun for anyone else.
Robin dismantled them like it was second nature. Wally lunged—he sidestepped and tripped him flat. Artemis swung—he twisted her wrist, bow gone, her body slammed into the mat. Kaldur tried a disciplined stance—Robin picked it apart in seconds. Even Conner, charging like a bulldozer, ended up pinned under a scrawny elbow at his throat.
Robin didn’t fight like a kid. He fought like someone who had seen every move before it happened.
And even when he was hit he brushed it off almost instantly like he hadn't flew into a wall because of a kryptonians fist.
By the end, the others were sprawled and sweating. Robin was still on his feet, pulling his gloves tighter, not even breathing hard.
“Lesson one,” he chirped. “Never assume you’ll keep your fancy toys or powers. Lesson two, dont shout out your moves before you do them, thats like common sense. Lesson three…” He smirked. “Don’t underestimate me.”
Later, when Canary dismissed them, the team gathered in the corner, bruised and humiliated. Robin leaned against the wall, fiddling with his belt like nothing happened.
That’s when the questions started.
“Okay,” Wally said, jabbing a finger at him. “No. Nope. You don’t just do that. What the hell was that? You’re… immune to pain or something?”
Robin shrugged. “Not immune. Conditioned.”
“Conditioned?” Artemis repeated sharply. “You didn’t even blink when Conner threw you into the wall!”
“Walls hurt less than you think if you hit them right.” Robin grinned, but his eyes slid away.
Kaldur’s voice was low, calm but pressing. “Robin, I watched you resist moves that should have stunned you. Even poisons. That is… not ordinary training.”
Robin’s smirk wavered. “…Batman’s big on preparing for the worst. Fear gas, knockout darts, truth serum. I’ve been through most of it by now. My body adjusts.”
M’gann gasped. “They… they actually put you through that? On purpose?”
Robin tilted his head. “Would you rather I collapsed the first time a rogue used it in the field?”
Artemis’s eyes narrowed. “That’s messed up. He’s your—what—even your guardian? And he lets you get pumped full of nightmare juice?”
Robin’s grin vanished, his tone sharpening. “Batman doesn’t let me. He trains me. There’s a difference. He makes damn sure I come out alive. Always.”
The conviction in his voice stopped them for a second. But not long.
“Still doesn’t make sense,” Wally muttered. “You’re fourteen. You fight like you’ve been at this for decades. That’s not just training. That’s—insane.”
Robin’s gloved fingers clenched around his belt buckle. “…I started early. Earlier than most. That’s all.”
“Robin,” Kaldur pressed, stepping closer. “When we faced you just now, it was as though we were fighting someone who has spent years living in combat. That is more than drills. That is experience.”
For the first time, Robin flinched. The mask hid his eyes, but his mouth tightened.
“Batman raised me to survive,” he said finally, voice quieter. “He’s not perfect, but he’s not cruel. Every scar I’ve got? I earned it fighting criminals who don’t care how old I am. If you think Gotham waits until you’re ‘ready,’ you’re wrong. Batman made sure I’d never be a victim again.”
The room went still.
Conner broke it. “You sound proud of that.”
Robin’s laugh was sharp, humorless. “Proud? No. It’s just reality. You don’t last in this life if you don’t adapt. That’s what I’m trying to teach you.”
The team exchanged glances—unsettled, uneasy. Because he wasn’t wrong. But hearing it from a fourteen-year-old, so casual about poisons and scars, made their stomachs twist.
For the first time, they weren’t just staring at Gotham’s boy wonder.
They were staring at a kid carrying years of battles no kid should’ve fought.
And none of them knew what to say.