Batman: Eternal: Season 3, Episode 12 - Unorthodox

“I need your help,” Dick said.

He was standing on the ledge of an apartment complex, hood pulled low over his face. A massive being floated in front of him. Superman.

Superman’s crimson cape fluttered in the breeze whimsically. His large S symbol provided joy to all who saw it. Every other part of him was stern. At least at the moment.

“That wasn’t okay,” Superman warned.

“I needed your attention,” Dick explained.

“By pretending to be under immediate threat?” Superman asked, “Murder is not just something for attention. You can’t scream ‘Bloody Murder’ and expect me to be okay with it.”

“Look I just needed to talk,” Dick said. His time at Spyral had taught him to get results no matter what he had to do. But something deep down was tugging at his conscience. Perhaps this wasn’t the best way to begin his talk with Superman.

“Well who are you?” Superman questioned, squinting.

Dick unzipped his hoodie halfway down. Just far enough so that Superman could see his Nightwing insignia. He then quickly rehid it.

“I thought we agreed to stay in our respective cities,” Superman said.

“So you have talked to him,” Dick noted.

“Of course. What did you expect?” Superman raised an eyebrow, “He’s the Batman. I show up- he’s obviously going to check in. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“I am, too,” Dick admitted, “Which is actually part of why I came to you.”

“Batman sends a sidekick to ask me for help?” Superman mused, “After the way he treated me when we first met, I’m kind of confused.”

“Batman’s been… out of it,” Dick said.

“Oh?”

“Ever since his little escapade into the Phantom Zone-”

“Oh,” Superman said again, this time somber.

“Do you know something about the Phantom Zone?” Dick pressed.

“I- not much,” Superman confessed, “I heard about it when I was a child.”

“And…?”

“My people used it as a kind of prison. For the worst of the worst. Jax-Ur. Xa-Du. Dru-Zod, of course. Countless others. It’s a vast expanse of nothing but Phantom Energy.”

“And what is Phantom Energy?” Dick questioned.

“I don’t know. It’s nothing or this world, nor mine. It is its own dimension, and it operates by its own rules. The use of it as a prison was highly debated as it caused severe mental deterioration in some the intellectually weak inmates,” Superman explained.

“Mental deterioration? What kind?” Dick asked.

“Is Batman-? Is he-?”

“Answer my question,” Dick ordered.

“For those who didn’t have a sound, strong mind, the Phantom Zone drove them insane. Fueled their rage more, causing them to become even more violent upon release,” Superman said.

“And is there any way to revert this… deterioration?”

“I’m telling you I only picked up bits and pieces as a child,” Superman said, “But maybe you can ask that strange group… ARGUS. You can ask ARGUS about it.”

“With the way Batman and Waller go back and forth, I can never be too sure if the Bat-Family is on the greatest terms with ARGUS,” Dick sighed, “Could you maybe tag along?”

Superman furrowed his brow. He still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about these Bat people.

“Please?” Dick tacked on.

“Fine.”

“We can take my motorcycle,” Dick said.

“I’ve got another idea.”


- - -


“That was a lot more fun,” Dick said, still regaining his balance. He’d just been zipped across the country by the big boy in blue himself!

“What is this place?” Superman marveled. It appeared as if they were simply in a marsh, yet Superman could see something was off.

“Belle Reve,” Dick explained, “Learned about it at… never mind. Look, this place is pretty dangerous. They house high-caliber criminals here. Or, long-term high-caliber prisoners. Your Zod probably would have ended up here if Batman hadn’t gone bat-shit crazy.”

Dick chuckled, but Superman was not in the slightest amused.

“Zod is a threat to humanity, and you make a joke about it?” Superman sighed disapprovingly.

“Here I am, working on getting back to my quipping self, and you shut me down,” Dick shook his head.

“Quip when the survival of your species isn’t on the line,” Superman advised.

“If Zod attacks again, we have you, right?” Dick slugged Superman in the arm.

“I may not be enough next time. He may be more prepared,” Superman said.

“You can always just team up with other heroes,” Dick pointed out, “I’ll send you my schedule. Always wanted to punch an alien.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Superman said.

“Probably for the best,” Dick nodded.

“What’s our plan for getting in here?” Superman asked, getting the conversation back on topic.

“Right, well, I figure they’ll come to us,” Dick said.

“Why’s that?” Superman questioned.

“We set off their proximity alarm,” Dick said, “They’re probably watching us right now with drones or something. Hey ARGUS! We’ve come to talk!”

Dick waved around at the sky.

Suddenly, Amanda Waller came storming out of thin air.

“How new is that cloaking tech?” Dick asked before she could speak, “I only kind of knew there was an invisible building there.”

“What do you two want?” Amanda scowled.

“Information,” Dick stated, “Everything you know about the Phantom Zone.”

“And you?” Amanda glared at Superman.

“He just asked me to come along,” Superman admitted, “To help convince you.”

Amanda looked down at the ground for a few moments.

“Alright,” Amanda finally said.

“Well that was easy,” Dick smiled.

“There’s a catch,” Superman assumed.

“There’s always a catch,” Amanda confirmed.

“I’ve been told I’m a catch,” Dick smirked.

“Enough banter,” Amanda put her foot down, “I need you to be serious for one second.”

Dick swallowed and shut his mouth.

“Now, if I am to tell you about the Phantom Zone and its… strange properties, I’ll need something in return,” Amanda stated, “As of lately, my little team has been struggling.”

“What is this team?” Superman asked.

“Task Force X,” Dick said, despairingly, as the realization of what she was asking set in, “The Suicide Squad.”

“With a name like that, I’m not sure if I want to be involved,” Superman said.

“You’ll be involved whether you want to or not,” Amanda said, “You both will.

“Task Force X is all over the place. There’s no real sense of leadership. They have no respect for the man I put in charge, Colonel Rick Flag. They’re a bunch of mentally unstable whack-jobs without a purpose. They’ve only been able to pull off four successful ops.”

“Out of-?” Dick asked.

“Seventeen,” Amanda Waller said with a sour face.

“Twenty-four percent success rate,” Dick recoiled, “Yikes.”

“So you two will step in and help whip them into shape,” Amanda smiled slyly.

“Working with criminals isn’t really my thing,” Dick said.

“Do you want your information or not?”

“Of course-”

“Then you’ll help,” Amanda said, “Come with me.”

Amanda turned around and walked towards the invisible building.

“So glad I got dragged into this,” Superman sighed.

“Hey, if we survive this spectacle, drinks are on me,” Dick said.


- - -


In the Batcave, Tim was doing some thinking. Thinking about possible ways to put a stop to the Riddler’s plans, even without Batman’s help. He had Damian, but there was no way he’d put a child out on the battlefield.

Of course, Damian wanted to help anyways.

Tim had assigned him to snack making duty.

Damian bumbled down the long staircase to the Batcave, carrying a plate of peanut butter toast in one hand and a whole jug of milk in the other.

“You know there’s an elevator, right?” Tim said, “Your dad was smart enough to put it in when he renovated this place. It’s a lot nicer now. Though I do miss the giant penny.”

“Giant penny?” Damian asked, quizzically, handing the plate off to Tim.

“It’s better not to ask,” Tim said, biting into the toast, “Have a seat.”

Damian plopped down on the ground, criss-cross-applesauce.

“I help,” Damian suggested.

“You are helping,” Tim said, brushing crumbs from the corners of his mouth, “This toast is fantastic.”

“I actually help,” Damian said, staring at Tim disapprovingly.

“Damian, this is beyond your skill level,” Tim gave it to him bluntly, “You’re a kid.”

“A kid raised by assassins,” Damian pointed out.

“A kid who needs to go to school,” Tim countered, “Have classes started yet? Are you skipping?”
Damian was silent.

“Dammit Damian, school is actually somewhat, kind of, a little bit important,” Tim threw his arms up into the air, “Even for someone as smart as you.”

“I stay,” Damian insisted.

“You do not stay,” Tim shook his head, “As long as Bruce is messed up in the head, I’m in charge around here. And I say you’re going to school.”

Tim ushered Damian into the elevator, and ascended to the first floor. He then sent Damian hurrying up the stairway to put on his school uniform. Tim himself put together Damian’s bookbag, stuffing it full of the notebooks, binders, pencils, pens, and erasers that he’d bought for the boy. He also started work on a ham and cheese wrap with a spinach tortilla. It was better than you’d expect. He tossed the wrap, wrapped in tin foil, into a paper sack alongside a bag of veggie straws and a juice box.

Damian came back down a few moments later, wearing his navy blue sweater vest over a gray dress shirt that displayed the Gotham Academy logo. His slacks were nicely ironed, courtesy of Tim once more.

Tim slung the bookbag over Damian’s shoulders, and placed the sack lunch in his hands.

“I’ll meet you out by the car,” Tim said, running back to the kitchen to grab a stray key ring. He and Damian jogged over to a sleek red Tesla in the winding driveway. They took off and weaved in and out of traffic throughout Gotham until they finally reached the old-timey building that was Gotham Academy.

“Kindness,” Tim instructed Damian.

Damian simply nodded in reply.

“Repeat it back to me,” Tim said.

“Kindness,” Damian sneered.

“You’re not practicing it right now,” Tim sighed.

“Is kicking criminals kindness?” Damian asked.

“Don’t do as I do, do as I say,” Tim smiled, “Now go.”

Damian got out of the car quickly, gripping his lunch bag with white knuckles. He was… scared. Scared of what awaited him.

“You’ll do great things in there, Damian,” Tim assured him, “Now go have fun.”

Damian gave another quick nod, and Tim drove off.

Tim slid his cell phone out of his pocket.

Holding down the home button, he said, “Call Lucius.”

The phone rang for a few seconds before Tim heard Lucius’s sultry voice.

“Tim, I haven’t heard from you in quite some time.”

“Busy, really busy,” Tim apologized, “Me and Bruce both.”

“Oh I could tell Bruce was busy,” Lucius sighed, “He hasn’t been into work forever.”

“But you’re doing alright running the place, aren’t you?” Tim made sure.

“Oh I suppose,” Lucius said, “In fact, stock prices, as well as overall profit, have risen in your father’s absence.”

“My dad is a risky investment,” Tim admitted, “I think we both knew that. But you? People can trust you not to disappear for weeks on end. Maybe you’re better suited to run the company.”

“Maybe. However, it’s Bruce’s company. It’s his to look after, if he so wishes.”

“And I’m sure he’ll want to,” Tim said, “Hey, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

There was no reply from Lucius. He was used to this.

“Bruce has a son.”

“Good Lord,” Lucius said, “Another one?”
“Another?” Tim asked.

“There was you. Dick. Jason.”

“I mean biological. Bruce has a son born from him. His genes,” Tim explained.

“I guess we should have seen this coming,” Lucius said.

“There’s more,” Tim bit his lip, “The mom is not some supermodel actress. She’s an assassin.”

“Bruce is sleeping with the enemy now?” Lucius asked.

“It’s a long story. And a long time ago. We just learned about the kid recently. But he’s living with us now. We enrolled him in school.”

“He’s enrolled in school but the world doesn’t know he exists?”

“Correct. If you could leak that, but change the story up a bit, that’d be great. The mom was nobody special. Just someone who caught Bruce’s eye. Regardless, she’s dead now, and the boy, Damian, found Bruce himself after hearing stories from his mother. Better that the public hear it from Wayne Enterprises than some Average Joe.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Lucius said.

“Thanks Lucius,” Tim sighed in relief, “I owe you one.”

“All of you people owe me several hundred,” Lucius joked.

Tim shut off his phone, and took a deep breath. Surely, Damian would be okay.


- - -


Damian wrinkled his nose as he saw the children around him. Some of them could use a good bathing. Or lessons on how to keep to themselves. They chattered loudly all around him.

“Quiet,” Damian instructed as he passed a group of boys. One of them turned to him, surprised. He wore a baggy gray hoodie and smelled like a skunk.

“What?” the boy asked in a hoarse voice.

“Quiet,” Damian repeated.

“Get a load of this,” the boy laughed, shaking one of his friends. They turned to Damian, and the boy smiled maliciously, waiting for Damian to speak again.

“Better,” Damian said, happy with the break in their conversation.

“Ahhhh he didn’t do it,” the boy groaned, “Just a few seconds ago he told me to shut up. Promise!”

“Clearly you’re new here,” the other boy said, “You can’t just tell us to jam it.”

“Annoying,” Damian scowled.

“Who is this kid?” the first boy howled in laughter.

“I am Damian Wayne, son of-!” Damian began to proclaim. Suddenly, he was interrupted by Ms. McDowell, the plump headmistress.

“Damian, come here!” she cawed.

“Oooooh,” the first boy said, stifling a laugh.

“You’re the new kid,” the second boy pieced together, “The special one.”

Damian strode over to Ms. McDowell.

“Loud. And annoying,” Damian said.

“That’s boys for you,” Ms. McDowell sighed, “Come now, I’ll bring you to your First Period.”

Together, they wandered through the barren halls of the school. The rest of the children were still gathered in the front. They made it to Mr. Odeck’s room for Trigonometry.

“Have a good day, Damian, and try your best,” Ms. McDowell smiled before scurrying off.

“Hello again, Damian,” Mr. Odeck greeted him as he walked in.

“Hello,” Damian responded, taking a seat at the front of the classroom.

“I was told that you are quite proficient in math,” Mr. Odeck said, “I hope that continues through this class. We’re just starting a new unit.”

Damian nodded.

They sat in silence until the rest of the students filed in a few minutes later.

When everyone was seated, Mr. Odeck called Damian to the front of the classroom.

“Boys and girls, this is Damian… is it alright if I say it?” Mr. Odeck asked, looking at Damian.

“Damian Wayne. Son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne,” Damian stated.

“Algoul?” Mr. Odeck asked, “What a pretty name.”

“Bruce Wayne has another son?” a girl scoffed.

“Damian is his first biological son,” Mr. Odeck explained.

“About time Bruce Wayne’s sexcapades caught up to him,” the girl chuckled.

“Rio,” Mr. Odeck said, warningly.

Rio shrugged as she sat down. She wasn’t necessarily wrong.

Damian shot her a nasty look and she just smirked.


- - -


Superman and Dick Grayson warily eyed the members of the Suicide Squad. Captain Boomerang. Killer Croc. Diablo. Enchantress. Deadshot. And a pale chick with inky black tear drop tattoos falling from her eyes and bright red hair.

Dick Grayson had a balaclava pulled over his face to preservse his identity.

Introductions were nearing their finish. They were acquainted with all but the pale woman.

“You’re up, nutjob,” Waller stated.

“Name’s Harleen,” she said flatly.

“Harleen Quinzel,” Waller informed them, “But you can call her Harley Quinn.”

“Or Harleen,” Harleen grunted.

“Harley,” Waller repeated, “So this is your team now.”

“Temporary team,” Superman insisted.

“We’re just with you guys until you shape up,” Dick said.

“And what better way to shape up than by heading out on a mission?” Waller mused.

“Hold on, we’re going on a mission with these guys?” Dick asked.

“Correct. Once it is complete, I will give you information you seek,” Waller nodded, “Look, this mission will be simple. I promise.”

“And what is this mission?” Superman questioned.

“Please no alien weapons,” Dick prayed, “Or destabilizing governments.”

“Your mission is simple. Deathstroke has been operating in Gotham as of late,” Waller said.

“I’m aware.”

“He’s gone now. Find him. Find out what he was doing there. Why he left. Then bring him in,” Waller instructed.

“Deathstroke? Who’s Deathstroke?” Superman asked.

“An enemy,” Dick informed him, “Superhuman slaughterhouse.”

“And this is going to be simple?” Superman raised an eyebrow.

“We have a Superman,” Waller smiled.

A few hours later, Task Force X, along with Dick Grayson and Superman, were flying towards Gotham in a high-powered helicopter.

Superman was puzzling over video files of Deathstroke in action. He listened to his voice. How his armor sounded as it slid around. His heart rate, both resting and active.

“Cut the power to the copter,” Superman ordered.

“No can do, Supes,” Rick Flag, the pilot, responded, “This takes too long to get going. If I cut the power we’re crashing before the motors get back up to full power.”

“Cut the power, I need to listen,” Superman said again.

“Turn the damn chopper off,” Dick insisted.

“Listen, Batkid, you’re not giving orders around here,” Rick sighed, “I’m still in charge.”

“No. You’re not.”

“Yes. I am.”

Superman squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus in on the sounds of Deathstroke. The sound of arguing was too much. Superman flew out of the helicopter, then iced the blades over.

The helicopter began a free-fall through the air. The passengers screeched.

“Quiet down!” Dick yelled, “Let Superman do his thing!”

The Suicide Squad tried to remain quiet, only occasionally squeaking.

Superman’s eyes shot open.

“I’ve found him.”

He zipped down, under the helicopter, and braced himself. The steel hit his fingers with a speed unmatched. His hands tore straight through the metal, and the helicopter rode up to his elbows. Then, it was halted.

“Good lord, Supes,” Dick called down, “You wanna not tear into the helicopter next time?”

“Can we agree there shouldn’t be a next time?” Superman grunted, flying the helicopter towards Deathstroke.

“You don’t want to team up with me again after this?” Dick pretend pouted.

Superman ignored Dick, and instead focused on getting the Suicide Squad to a remote location in Arizona. Where they could find Deathstroke.

“Hold on to your… everything,” Superman warned.

He thrust forward, tearing through the skies. Finally, he reached Arizona, and zeroed in on Deathstroke’s location.

A small bar. Alongside a dusty highway. A few rusted cars in the parking lot.

Superman set the helicopter down in the parking lot. The Suicide Squad clambered out.

“That was not cool, Superman,” Rick Flag grumbled.

“I apologize, Colonel,” Superman said, “I recognize your authority, though in that situation I had to focus on the mission given by Amanda Waller.”

Rick Flag squinted at Superman, “I don’t get you.”

“It’s part of the deal,” Dick whispered to Rick, “We have to make the team respect you.”

“Colonel, what’s our next move?” Superman asked, “Deathstroke is in there.”

Rick Flag smiled.

“Enchantress, you’ll put terrifying visions into the minds of the people inside that bar. Everyone except for Deathstroke. Chase ‘em outside. Once they’re all out here, we head in. Boomerang, you’ll stay with the helicopter and make sure no one gets too close. Diablo, keep a steady ring of fire up around us and Deathstroke. Enchantress, at this point you’ll levitate Deadshot upwards. Deadshot, take out Deathstroke’s knees. Croc, deal heavy blows. Batkid, you’re in charge of apprehending him.”

“And you?” Dick asked.

“I don’t do the whole front lines thing,” Rick said, “I’ll hang back and wait with Harley. Not sure she’s battle ready.”

“Suicide Squad, if this is going to work, you need to follow these orders. To a tee. No goofing around. One screw up and someone could die,” Superman warned.

There was no response for a few seconds.

“Let’s do this,” Deadshot said.

“Suicide Squad… Roll out?” Rick Flag shrugged.

The team, minus Harley, and plus Superman and Dick Grayson, headed towards the bar.

“I heard Flag call you Batkid,” Deadshot whispered to Dick, “That true?”

“I work with the Caped Crusader from time to time,” Dick nodded.

“How’s he doing?”

“Not great,” Dick admitted, “Why do you care?”

“I know I’m not a great dude, but even bad people have some good qualities. I’ve got a soft spot for the big bad bat, believe it or not.”

“Huh,” Dick said, “Well, he’ll be back on his feet soon. Batman never stays down for long.”

“Begin Black Op 15,” Rick Flag ordered over the earpieces.

Enchantress bent backwards like a shattered stick, gray and green gases shooting out from her. The steam slithered inside the bar. Within seconds, the bar had emptied.

Task Force X filed inside.

One man remained at the bar. His silver hair was long and curling at the ends. A thick bear covered his jaw. A weathered face displayed one cloudy gray eye, while the other was covered with a metal eye patch. Along scar ran under the eyepatch.

“Deathstroke, we’ve come to take you in,” Dick stated.

“Well let’s get on with it,” Slade Wilson sighed, downing one last shot.