{AN:I GRADUATE TODAY!!! WOOOOO!}
{Also there's only a few more chapters like this one before it gets more interesting.}
A week had passed since Jonathan's first day at Gotham Academy, and the rhythms of the school began to settle around him like a too-familiar suit. Nexus continued to map behavioral patterns, log social cues, and filter interactions through probability matrices, but even Jonathan couldn't deny it—he was adapting.
Or at least blending in.
Most days started the same: scanning eyes in the hallway, tracking subtle movements, cross-referencing facial expressions. Nexus was tireless, feeding him streams of data with each blink.
"Student proximity alert: Grayson. Approach vector: casual."
Jonathan didn't look up from his locker.
"Morning, Jonathan," Dick said, leaning against the adjacent locker. "You survived the first week. That's usually the hardest part."
"I'm still calibrating."
Dick chuckled. "Let me know if you want a tour of the rooftop shortcuts. Teachers think it's off-limits, but it's the best place to be left alone."
Jonathan raised a brow. "Alone... with a guided tour?"
"Exactly," Dick said with a wink.
"Verbal incongruity: humorous. Intent: friendly."
Thanks, Nexus. I think I caught that one.
During gym class, Jonathan was paired off with Damian for sparring drills. It was a quiet, intense affair. Neither spoke. Neither needed to.
It was strange that they even had the students spar, but they'd said something about self defense because of Gotham's high crime rate, so Jon saved himself the head ache and took it at face value.
Damian moved with surgical precision, striking fast and falling back. Jonathan matched him instinctively, his body enhanced by nanite reflexes and barely tapping into the Speed Force to make up for his inexperience.
To anyone else, they'd just look like a pair of normal students deciding to ramp up the intensity, but Damien knew differently. He had been enhanced by the Lazarus Pit, no normal kid would be able to keep up with him. Plus, he kept throwing in strikes that were designed to slip past the flaws in the school's technique, but Jonathan never allowed them to land.
By the end, both stood breathless, staring at each other.
"You're holding back," Damian said coldly.
"So are you."
That earned a twitch of the mouth. Not quite a smile. Not quite not.
It wasn't until lunch that Jonathan noticed the new faces.
The first was a tall student with a calm, athletic presence and sharp, steady eyes. He sat near Barbara and Dick but spoke little, his movements fluid and deliberate. Water bottle in hand, he rotated it slowly in thought.
"Subject identified: Garth Aqualonis. Public records: minimal. Behavioral cues: high discipline. Possible combat training. Potential codename match: Aqualad. Confidence: 34%."
Odd company for a quiet kid.
Later, in the science lab, Jonathan caught another anomaly—this one less restrained.
A dark-haired teen in a black hoodie leaned casually over a project table, laughing too loud at something harmless. His strength was easy to miss until he casually lifted a loaded supply crate like it was paper.
"Subject scan: elevated musculature density. Genetic markers: non-standard. Cross-reference: failed LexCorp clone project. Alias potential: Kon-El, known as Connor. Confidence: 41%."
Jonathan narrowed his eyes slightly. So Lex didn't stop with me.
"Potential inquiery: His emotional state seems inconsistant with Lexcorp database. He had genitic markers that increased aggression."
And now they're missing. Interesting.
Still, Kon—if that was him—offered only a slight wave from across the room. His eyes were more observant than his smile let on.
It wasn't until the walk home that the final piece of the day clicked.
Jonathan had taken to avoiding the main gate, preferring a side path through the older part of campus. Less eyes. Fewer variables.
Which is why he was surprised when someone zipped past him in a blur—then stopped.
A red-haired student with a backpack and a grin nearly too big for his face was suddenly walking backward in front of him.
"Hey! You're Jonathan, right?" he asked, without waiting for confirmation. "I'm Wally. Newish here. Kind of. Transferred from Keystone."
Jonathan blinked. "You moved at—"
"I jog fast," Wally said quickly, almost rehearsed. "Family thing. Metabolism. No big deal."
"Anomalous kinetic burst detected. Duration: 0.17 seconds. Distance covered: 14 meters. Subject identity probability: Wallace West. Codename hypothesis: Kid Flash. Confidence: 88%."
And here I thought subtlety was the game.
Wally kept walking backward a few more steps, then spun into a regular pace beside him. "You're interesting. The others think so too. In a good way. Mostly."
"I get the feeling I'm part of an ongoing discussion."
Wally smiled. "Not all of us talk. But yeah, you're kind of on everyone's radar. People like patterns. You're... unpatterned."
Jonathan raised a brow. "And you're not?"
"I'm the most predictable person here," Wally grinned. "I'm always the fastest. Except maybe you?"
Jonathan didn't reply. Wally didn't seem to mind.
That night, Jonathan sat in the dorm room Bruce had arranged for him. The lights were low, Nexus running background diagnostics.
He closed his eyes.
Nexus. Status on anomalies.
"Consolidating data. Social cluster exhibits tactical coordination. Members possess unique biometric markers and inconsistent civilian histories. Conclusion: shared training origin likely. Operational cohesion strong. Public identities unconfirmed."
Any chance they're League?
"Insufficient data. But... behavioral profiles suggest mentorship under League-associated figures. Surveillance analysis ongoing."
Jonathan leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
"They are testing your responses. Monitoring reactions. Integration appears to be progressing."
Then maybe it's time I start watching them back.
He exhaled slowly, thinking back on Wally's words.
Unpatterned.
Maybe that was the key.
He didn't need to blend.
He just had to keep them guessing.