Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

The Deep found himself utterly cowed by Bruce's presence.

For the first time, he realized this kid wasn't like Starlight—easy to manipulate.

But he couldn't back down.

If he caved now, he'd be at Bruce's mercy forever. However, if he pushed back, there was still a slim chance of regaining control.

"You'd better rein it in, Bruce!" The Deep barked. "Don't let a few fans inflate your ego. You're still a rookie!"

Bruce shrugged nonchalantly. "True, but even with just 'a few fans,' I've got more than you could dream of."

"You little—"

The Deep sneered. "If word gets out that you're disrespecting your seniors, do you think those fans will still stick around?"

Bruce's gaze flicked downward, settling on The Deep's bare legs.

"And seniors who can't even bother to wear pants in front of juniors—are they worth respecting?"

With that, Bruce raised his phone and snapped a photo. The audible click made The Deep flinch.

This was the last straw.

"I tried talking nicely, but you wouldn't listen!"

With a furious growl, The Deep lunged at Bruce. If words wouldn't work, he was ready to settle things with his fists.

"Repello!"

Suddenly, a short rod appeared in Bruce's hand. He swung it casually, sending The Deep hurtling into the wall.

"Accio!"

Another flick of the rod, and The Deep felt a powerful force pull him back toward Bruce, slamming him onto the floor at his feet.

What just happened?

Dazed, The Deep lay sprawled on the ground. He had no idea how Bruce had done it. A few casual swings, and he'd been thrown around like a ragdoll.

He felt less like a person and more like a toy.

"Want to go again?"

Bruce tucked the rod back into his coat, his voice calm and composed.

The Deep dared not answer. Memories of Bruce's abilities came rushing back.

In his normal state, Bruce was a sorcerer. But in critical moments, he could summon a magic-powered mech suit.

How the hell am I supposed to fight someone like that?

"Looks like you remember now," Bruce said with a smirk. "As a sorcerer, I could wipe the floor with someone like you—a guy whose only talent is talking to fish."

The Deep lowered his head, fists clenched tightly.

The humiliation stung. A thirteen-year-old kid was walking all over him.

Peeking out from behind Bruce, Starlight finally got a good look at The Deep's defeated state.

This was the same creep who had just been threatening her?

And she'd almost caved to him!

Bruce's voice cut through the silence.

"I can't believe there's someone like you in the Seven."

He shook his head. "Now, apologize. You not only harassed Miss Starlight, but you also assaulted my eyes. Have you forgotten? I'm still a kid!"

"I…"

The Deep's body trembled. He knew he was done for.

Bruce had him in a chokehold, and there was no escape.

"I'm sor—"

Just as he was about to apologize, Bruce's sharp voice interrupted him.

"Is that how you apologize?"

The Deep looked up, bewildered.

He was apologizing. What else did Bruce want?

Bruce raised his phone, the recording mode activated.

"You like showing off, don't you? Then show a bit more—take off your shirt!"

The Deep's eyes widened in horror.

He suddenly recalled some fan comments from the rookie election.

They'd said Bruce, under Homelander's influence, would grow into a true hero.

Forget Homelander's influence! The Deep thought bitterly. This kid's already a mini-Homelander!

"This is too much!"

Desperate, The Deep tried one last time to reason with Bruce. Pants were one thing, but he really didn't want to take off his shirt.

"How can you be like this? You're just a kid! Shouldn't you show some compassion?"

"Compassion? I'm an orphan," Bruce replied coolly.

Holding up his phone, he barked, "Take off your shirt, or you know what'll happen!"

In that moment, The Deep experienced the same helplessness Starlight had felt under his threats.

Tears of humiliation streamed down his face as he reluctantly removed his tank top.

"Ugh, gross."

Bruce clicked his tongue in disgust.

On The Deep's torso were two gill-like slits, strange and alien. They made him look grotesque.

This was why he always kept his shirt on.

Those gills, though the source of his powers, were also the reason his parents abandoned him when he was nine. They couldn't bear to raise such a "monster."

His traumatic childhood had twisted his personality into what it was now.

Now, kneeling shirtless before Bruce and Starlight, The Deep bowed his head deeply.

"I'm sorry!"

He sobbed. "I shouldn't have harassed you at work. I shouldn't have exposed you to such disgusting behavior. I was wrong—please forgive me!"

"Better," Bruce said, recording the entire apology.

The Deep had turned off the command center's surveillance when he tried to coerce Starlight, but now that move had backfired spectacularly.

There was no one to call for help. No one would side with him anyway.

"Mr. Deep, I hope you'll behave yourself from now on," Bruce said coldly. "If you truly repent, I won't release the video."

This wasn't an empty promise—Bruce really had no intention of leaking the footage.

But whether Kathoom would keep the video to himself was another matter entirely.

---

Bruce left the command center with Starlight in tow.

"I can't believe The Deep is like that," Bruce muttered, still shaken. Workplace harassment was terrifying.

Good thing he was the one dishing it out this time.

Starlight, her makeup smudged from tears, felt like she'd narrowly escaped a nightmare.

If Bruce hadn't shown up, she didn't even want to imagine what might have happened.

"I don't know how to thank you!"

Her gratitude was heartfelt. "Joining the Seven alongside you is the greatest stroke of luck in my life!"

"No need to thank me," Bruce replied casually. Rescuing her had been incidental; his real goal had been to leverage The Deep.

"Just stay sharp. Vought isn't as simple as it seems—it's a machine that chews people up and spits them out," Bruce warned. "If you want to beat the bad guys, you have to be worse than them."

Starlight nodded earnestly.

"I'll remember that, Bruce!" she said. "And if you ever need help, just say the word!"

Hearing this, Kathoom perked up, perched on Bruce's shoulder.

"Really?" the Owl chimed in. "In that case, how about showing us your legs?"

Bruce ignored Kathoom's antics.

Turning back to Starlight, he said, "I joined the Seven to be a hero. I hope you can hold onto that ideal too."

The words struck a chord with Starlight.

"I will, Bruce!" she said firmly. "We'll become true heroes together!"

After exchanging more words of gratitude, Starlight reluctantly took her leave.

Bruce remained where he was, Kathoom chattering in his ear.

"You've got some serious moves, kid! Playing the bad guys with pragmatism and the good guys with ideals—you've mastered the art of persuasion."

Bruce shook his head, unwilling to comment.

"Didn't I learn from the best?" he said. "Anyway, it's time to focus on the real mission."

Bruce hadn't joined the Seven for fame or heroics.

He was here to retrieve that dagger.

It had been two and a half years since he left the DC world. In that time, Bruce had made significant progress.

But the dagger that nullified magic had undone all his efforts, serving as a harsh reminder not to rely too heavily on any single ability.

"That dagger is too dangerous to leave out in the world," Bruce muttered. "It needs to be in my hands."

Having secured a place in the Seven and won over some of its members, Bruce was now ready for the next step:

Find A-Train.

And retrieve the dagger from him.

---

In the lobby of Vought Tower, A-Train peeked out cautiously, scanning the area.

Not seeing anyone suspicious, he exhaled in relief and started toward the exit.

"Mr. A-Train!"

A voice stopped him in his tracks.

Whipping around, he saw Bruce standing at a distance, waving with a smile.

A-Train's pupils dilated, his first instinct to flee using his super-speed.

But as he took his first step, he hesitated.

Memories of chasing Bruce flooded back.

At the time, Bruce had displayed super-speed—yet now, he was wielding magic.

Was it all some kind of illusion?

Bruce was closing in, his presence unnerving.

A-Train touched his chest, where the phantom pain of that traumatic encounter still lingered.

In the end, he abandoned the idea of running.

"Mr. A-Train, finally, you're not avoiding me!"

Bruce reached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Then, in a low voice, he said, "Why run, A-Train? Take a guess—why do you think I joined the Seven?"

A-Train stiffened, a cold shiver running down his spine.

I knew it! This kid's up to no good. He's here for me!

"You're a killer!" A-Train spat, gritting his teeth. "You killed me!"

He couldn't see Kathoom and assumed Bruce had cast some lethal curse on him before.

Bruce didn't bother correcting him.

"I killed you because you deserved it," Bruce said evenly. "You should reflect on what you've done."

"It wasn't intentional!" A-Train protested, desperate to explain. "I didn't mean to kill anyone!"

"Don't oversimplify things," Bruce said as they walked side by side. To anyone watching, they looked like close friends.

"You've got a lot more sins to atone for."

A-Train didn't dare run.

Keeping his head down, he asked nervously, "Is this the real you, or am I seeing things again?"

Bruce's smile widened.

"You tell me."

---

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