The Batcave. The place always smelled like steel and ambition, with a dash of bad decisions and bat-shaped decor. Dick Grayson—aka Robin, Gotham's most charming headache—hadn't exactly come from a night of relaxing, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit lighter after a successful training session with Batgirl. Well, as successful as surviving Gotham's endless night could be.
He strolled into the cave with his usual swagger, giving the place a once-over. His sharp eyes took in the gleaming equipment, the shiny Batmobiles parked like the world's fanciest race cars, and—oh yeah—the giant Bat-symbol on the ceiling. He had to admit, it was kind of impressive… in a "we have a lot of bats" kind of way.
Barbara Gordon, aka Batgirl, trailed right behind him, glancing over the Batcave with the keen eyes of someone who'd been here too many times to care about the décor. But her hands were restless, clearly eager to get their hands on the box from Fred and George Weasley. Those two? Pure chaos, but they made a living off it—and in Gotham, that might just be the secret sauce to surviving.
"Dude, you think Batman's going to freak out when he sees this?" Dick asked, tossing the package onto the main table with the kind of flourish that screamed, I'm a hero, but I have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old.
Barbara didn't even look at him, though her voice had that dry, sarcastic edge she'd perfected over the years. "Are we talking about Batman, or the guy who still thinks our patrols look like 'we're going for a 'spy-thriller vibe'? I'm pretty sure whatever's inside, it's going to be more 'boom' than 'wow' in his eyes."
Dick grinned, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. "Well, if it explodes, it's on Fred and George. I'll just let them know we weren't fully briefed on the 'not setting the cave on fire' clause."
"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over great," Barbara deadpanned. "Next, you'll be saying we should let the Justice League in on this 'special delivery.'"
"I mean, if Batman doesn't need them, we could always send them over to the Flash. Imagine him running while trying to avoid exploding 'Bat-grenades.' Comedy gold."
As they bantered, a voice from the shadows interrupted their conversation, as if waiting for the perfect moment to drop in like the ever-impressive Alfred Pennyworth.
"Master Grayson, Miss Gordon," came Alfred's unmistakable voice, smooth and calm, like someone who'd seen it all, including bad decisions wrapped in fancy packaging. "I trust your evening's... adventure was as thrilling as expected?"
Barbara let out a little laugh, but Dick was all business, giving Alfred a look of mock solemnity. "Oh, you know, the usual. Kicked some butt. Maybe blew something up on accident. You know how it goes."
Alfred, ever the stoic butler, raised an eyebrow as he cleaned the Batmobile. "Ah. So, no change, then."
"Exactly," Dick said, not even trying to hide the grin creeping up. "You'd be amazed how often 'no change' is actually a win in Gotham."
Barbara rolled her eyes. "He's just upset because we didn't blow anything up. Batman's probably out there taking a five-minute break to brood about how much he hates fun."
Dick snorted. "You mean, he's probably in the middle of saving someone and wishing he was somewhere else, like a dark cave with no distractions? Classic Batman move."
"Quite so," Alfred said with the tiniest smile. "I assume, then, that your 'delivery' is for him?"
Barbara stepped up to the table and gently nudged the box from Fred and George toward Alfred. "Well, if he wants it, he'll have to get through us first. We figured we'd give him the honor of seeing it in person. It's... probably going to be a disaster, but you know Batman loves his 'emergency preparedness.'"
Dick and Barbara exchanged a glance, and in that silent moment, they both knew: There was no way in hell Batman was going to let these gadgets go untested.
Alfred took a moment to look at the box, his expression unreadable. "I shall make sure Master Wayne is... informed of this interesting development when he returns from patrol. Should something, perhaps, explode, I will take full responsibility."
Dick gave him a look that could only be described as the "of course you will, Alfred" look. "Yeah, sure, Alfred. Just, uh, don't throw us under the Batmobile, okay?"
Barbara was already leaning over the box, her fingers practically itching to tear it open. "You know, Alfred, if you really want to help, you could open this for us and take the brunt of the chaos. You're the one with the experience in 'dangerous gadgets.'"
Alfred's lips twitched, the faintest suggestion of humor breaking through his ever-professional demeanor. "Ah yes, quite. Well, as you may have gathered, I have no intention of doing your job for you."
"But if you did want to get your hands dirty…" Dick started, nudging the box toward Alfred with an innocent look that screamed 'I'm definitely up to no good, but I'm trying to look innocent.'
Barbara crossed her arms and leaned back against the table, her eyes narrowing. "I'm just saying, if this thing explodes and we all go flying, at least it'd be on your watch."
"Very well," Alfred sighed, giving them both a look that could've burned holes in the Batcave's steel walls if it weren't for his incredible restraint. "I shall prepare the usual tea in case Master Wayne returns to find that, once again, you've managed to turn his life into a series of improbable explosions."
"Thanks, Alfred! You're the best!" Dick said with an exaggerated salute, fully enjoying the banter.
"I do try," Alfred replied dryly, before turning back to the Batmobiles with the air of someone who had accepted his fate.
With Alfred's sarcastic retreat, Dick and Barbara were left in the Batcave—just the two of them and a box full of potential disaster.
"So," Dick began, nudging the box again. "What do you think? Should we wait until Batman gets back, or...?"
Barbara, who had already taken a step back from the box, glanced at him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "We wait for Batman to get back. You know how this goes. He'll brood, then he'll ask why we didn't just go home."
"Fair," Dick agreed. "Besides, if we blow up the cave, at least we'll be able to blame Fred and George."
Barbara shot him a glare, but there was a spark of mischief in her eyes. "Yeah, sure. They can take the fall for all of Gotham's explosions."
And as the sounds of Alfred's footsteps echoed away, they both knew that Gotham's night was far from over. But at least, for now, they could enjoy the brief calm before the storm—and the inevitable Bat-grenade chaos.
—
The Batcave was as still as a grave—perfect for brooding, planning, and giving the occasional villain a cold, hard stare. You know, Batman stuff. But then, a shadow moved across the cave, and in typical Batman fashion, he appeared without a sound, his cape flowing like the world's most dramatic curtain. Seriously, if there was an award for "most dramatic entrance," Bruce Wayne would win it every time.
The guy just exudes mystery. It's impressive, really. You could feel the gloom roll in with him as he stepped into the Batcave, boots clicking sharply against the cold concrete. It was like Gotham itself had decided to take a break from its usual chaos just to make space for the Dark Knight's grim presence. Nothing says "I'm here" like the wind howling just because you are.
"Evening, Bats," Dick Grayson, aka Robin, said with his usual swagger. If there was an Olympic event for sarcasm, Dick would be walking away with the gold. He had that "I'm-not-even-slightly-intimidated-by-you" energy, which was basically his brand. He leaned against the Batcomputer, casually scrolling through something while rocking a grin that could give even the most stoic Bat-fan a run for their money. "You wouldn't believe the day we've had."
Barbara Gordon, who was standing by a large box from Fred and George Weasley (yes, those Weasleys), shot Dick a look that could only be described as "don't you even think about it." But knowing Dick, that only made him grin wider.
Batman, the human embodiment of "I don't do jokes," tilted his head in a way that suggested he had questions—serious, Batman-level questions—but his focus was now on the box. His gaze flickered to it, then back to Dick, like he was about to solve a mystery involving chaos and probably some hazardous material. "What's that?"
"Oh, glad you asked," Dick said, pushing off the computer and dramatically spinning the box around. He was so proud of whatever chaos they were about to unleash on Gotham, it was practically oozing out of him. "A little something from Fred and George."
Barbara, doing her best to keep things grounded (which, let's face it, was probably a lost cause with Dick around), spoke up with a smirk. "Don't let him fool you, Bats. Fred and George Weasley? Chaos incarnate. If this doesn't end in explosions, we'll be shocked. And possibly slightly singed."
"You didn't happen to commission these, did you?" Barbara added, quirking an eyebrow. "Because last time I checked, you didn't exactly strike me as the 'orderly' type when it came to... well, pretty much anything."
Batman—ever the brooding mystery—stood there silently, but if you looked closely, you could catch the faintest flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He hated being caught off guard, especially when it came to things like prank-filled explosives. But then, with all the patience of a man who had spent hours meticulously preparing for a confrontation with the Joker (again), he answered, "No. I didn't."
Dick bounced on his heels, practically bursting with excitement. "But you did ask for Bat-grenades, and Fred and George? They're the experts when it comes to that kind of thing. Seriously, if it involves exploding things or making things go poof in a way no one expects, these guys are the only people you should call."
Barbara rolled her eyes. "If by 'experts,' you mean 'agents of total chaos,' sure. What could possibly go wrong?"
Batman didn't respond right away. Instead, his hand shot out and grabbed the box like it was his to command (because, you know, it was). He flipped it open without so much as blinking, clearly not trusting the contents of the package but knowing that, sooner or later, he was going to have to deal with it—probably in the middle of a high-stakes chase, if Dick had anything to say about it.
Inside, as expected, there were grenades, but these weren't your typical explosive devices. Oh no. These had neon labels, and the words "Bat-grenades: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder Edition" shone in bright, obnoxious font, as though Fred and George were daring him to open the thing just to see what would happen.
"Okay, you two," Batman said, lifting one of the grenades and examining it like it might suddenly decide to sprout legs and walk away, "what exactly am I supposed to do with this?" His voice, naturally, was as cold and emotionless as a winter's night.
Dick, barely able to contain his excitement, leaned in with that cocky grin of his. "Well, Bats, it's simple. You throw this bad boy, and—boom—instant darkness. No sight, no light, no anything. It's the ultimate tool for sneaky Bat-operations. Tactical blindness. You'll love it."
Barbara raised an eyebrow, her dry humor creeping in as she leaned against the console. "It's like someone looked at you and thought, 'You know what Batman needs? More unpredictability. Less brooding, more chaos.'"
Batman's gaze never wavered from the grenade in his hand, though you could almost hear the mental sigh coming from behind his cowl. "I'm not exactly a fan of chaos," he muttered, clearly not sharing Dick's excitement.
"Of course you are," Dick said, dramatically placing a hand on Batman's shoulder, as though he were breaking the most profound of truths. "You've got that whole 'mysterious and brooding' thing down, but let's be honest, Bats. Sometimes, you gotta let loose and let the darkness... really sink in."
Barbara snorted, trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, because a literal darkness bomb is just what the doctor ordered."
Batman slowly turned his head to her, clearly not impressed with either of them. "And you two brought this?"
Dick, ever the problem-solver, shrugged. "Look, it wasn't just for the chaos factor. It's also for—wait for it—tactical superiority. Imagine the possibilities. Throw one of these in a room full of bad guys, and bam, instant advantage."
Batman's lips twitched upward just slightly—just enough to make you wonder if he was actually amused by the idea or if he was just plotting to destroy the Weasley twins with a hundred different ways of subtle vengeance. But hey, who was counting?
Finally, Batman grunted, tossing the grenade from one hand to the other like he was weighing his options. "Fine," he said. "But if these do cause an incident, I'm blaming both of you." He gave Dick a long, assessing stare, like the teenager had just volunteered to test the grenades on himself.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Dick said, all innocence. "But if it helps, we're totally willing to take the blame if Gotham does blow up."
Batman's gaze hardened, but you could see a spark of something—maybe admiration?—flicker. "You two are a danger to Gotham."
Barbara, grinning now, looked at Dick and then back at Batman. "A danger to Gotham? Nah. We're just a necessary danger."
As Batman disappeared into the shadows of the Batcave, the silence hung in the air. For a moment, it seemed like the Batcave was a little darker than usual.
"Do you think he'll actually use the grenades?" Barbara asked, staring after Batman.
Dick just grinned, bouncing on his heels. "Probably not. But that's what makes this fun."
Barbara raised an eyebrow. "You know he'll test them on us eventually, right?"
Dick didn't even flinch. "And when he does? We'll be ready."
And with that, they both chuckled. Gotham was about to get a whole lot darker—thanks to Fred and George's sense of humor.
—
It was one of those classic Gotham nights—the air electric, like the whole city was holding its breath, just waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike and someone to start a fight. And yet, here we were, stuck in the Batcave, not in the middle of some Gotham street brawl but in the quiet, tense space where plans were made and secrets were uncovered.
Batman stepped out of the shadows like some sort of gothic, caped apparition. He didn't make a sound—probably because he was Batman, and he was known for moving like a shadow, which was totally his thing. Honestly, if I could pull off being that mysterious, I'd probably do it too. The guy knows how to make an entrance. But he didn't even give us a glance, didn't waste a single breath on a dramatic monologue. No, he just got right to the point. Business as usual.
"Victor Stone's missing."
I looked up from my phone—distracted by a particularly compelling meme about Star City's football team—and raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Victor Stone?" I repeated, trying to process the situation. "The same Victor Stone who's basically the king of Gotham Academy's football team? The guy who doesn't ever miss a game unless, you know, he's dead?"
Batgirl, ever the no-nonsense one, straightened up from the map table and shot me a look. "Well, I wouldn't say 'dead,' Dick, but yeah. That's the one. His parents too. Dr. Silas and Dr. Elinore Stone—they've been gone for a week."
Batman didn't say anything, just slid a data pad across the table. It glowed with that cold, artificial light that always makes me feel like I'm about to dive headfirst into some serious detective work. This wasn't the kind of case where you could just wing it, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself we could. Batman's eyes flickered over to me and Barbara, making sure we were both paying attention. "The Stone family disappeared a week ago," he said in that low, gravelly voice, like he was chewing on the facts and not liking the taste. "The lab at S.T.A.R. Labs has been scrubbed clean. No surveillance footage. Nothing."
Barbara narrowed her eyes as she scrolled through the files. "Wait, scrubbed clean? Like someone went through and erased everything? No traces of the Stones at all?"
Batman nodded. "Exactly. Whoever did this went through great lengths to hide their tracks. The clean-up wasn't just physical; it was digital too. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were doing."
I tossed my phone on the table and stood up straight. "Okay, that's creepy. I mean, I know Gotham's full of freaks and weirdos, but this... this is next level."
Barbara crossed her arms, looking back at the screen with an intensity that said, Yeah, I'm going to figure this out whether you guys help or not. "But we noticed, Batman. We were at that football game last week, the one against Star City. Victor should've been there. He loves football. He's obsessed with it. And then, he sent that text. The one saying he was dealing with 'family issues'—weird, right? The guy doesn't keep secrets unless it's really serious."
I nodded, adding my two cents. "Yeah, Victor doesn't just bail on things. And his parents—" I paused, rubbing the back of my neck. "His parents are too important to just disappear like this without anyone noticing. I mean, Dr. Silas Stone's basically a genius in cybernetics, and Elinore's no slouch either. People knew them. They didn't just vanish."
Batman's jaw tightened, and I swear, the Batcave got colder. "Their disappearance wasn't random. There's something more going on here, and it's bigger than just a missing persons case. Someone wanted the Stones—and whatever they were working on. And if that means Victor's part of it, then we need to find him. Fast."
Barbara leaned in, looking even more determined than usual. "So, what now? We're not just going to sit here with a pile of tech and guess, are we?"
I shot a glance at Barbara and then at Batman, who was standing like a dark statue in front of us, still processing. "Of course not. I'm not going to sit here and just... what? Wait for someone else to solve it?" I said, tossing my hands up. "I mean, I could do that. But it'd be way more fun if we went full-on detective mode and figured this out, right?"
Batman's eyes glinted beneath his cowl. I swear, the guy's got a thing for ominous silence. "You'll get your chance. But we can't afford to take this lightly. Whoever took them is well-organized. We'll need a plan. A good one."
I leaned in, tapping on the data pad that was still glowing between us. "Right. So, step one: We start digging into S.T.A.R. Labs. See what we can find. And step two?" I paused dramatically, giving Batman my best smile. "We find Victor. He's too important, and we're not just going to let him fall through the cracks."
Batman gave a slight nod, his lips pulling into a thin line as he turned to head for the cave's exit. "Exactly. And when we find Victor..." He looked back over his shoulder, his voice dropping to that low, menacing growl. "We'll bring him home."
Barbara's fingers tapped against her chin thoughtfully as she grabbed a few files off the table. "And after that? We get some answers about why someone would go this far to erase a kid's entire existence."
I gave a quick salute to Batman's back as he made his way toward the Batmobile. "We're ready. Just say when, Bats. This city's got a lot of secrets, and we're going to dig into every one of them."
Barbara gave me an exasperated look. "Just try not to make it a disaster this time, Dick."
I shot her a grin. "What, you don't think I can handle it?"
She just rolled her eyes. "No. I don't."
Batman's voice echoed back, just before he disappeared. "Stay focused. We've got work to do."
And with that, the Batcave buzzed with purpose. The case was on, and we were the ones who had to crack it wide open. Gotham didn't know it yet, but the Stone family's disappearance was only the beginning. And if anyone could uncover the truth, it was us.
We were Gotham's shadowy detectives. And the hunt for Victor Stone was just getting started.
—
Victor Stone sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of the abandoned military safehouse, his metal arm twitching slightly. It felt like a live wire, a constant reminder that his body wasn't really his anymore. He was a patchwork of human and machine, something out of a bad sci-fi movie—except this was his life now, and there was no convenient plot twist to reverse it.
"Dad, what the hell did you do to me?" Victor growled, looking up at Dr. Silas Stone, who was hunched over a series of monitors, furiously typing away. It was the same scene every day—his father, the scientist who had somehow turned his own son into a cyborg, tinkering away at some new experiment as though he could fix him. As though that was possible.
Silas didn't look up, but the guilt was palpable, like a weight pressing down on the room. "I did what I had to, Victor," he said, voice shaky. "I couldn't let you die. Not like your mother—"
Victor's breath caught, and he cut his father off with a sharp, bitter laugh. "Really? You couldn't let me die? You mean, you couldn't let me be free, like Mom? Because, let me remind you, she's dead. And I—" He paused, looking at his own metal hand, "—I'm a walking Frankenstein's monster now."
Sarah Simm, who had been standing in the corner, watching the father-son showdown unfold like a referee at a particularly messy tennis match, stepped in. She was trying to play the peacemaker—playing the calm voice of reason while Victor wrestled with the storm inside him. But it was hard. She knew it was hard.
"Victor," Sarah said gently, kneeling in front of him, her voice soft but insistent, "you're angry, and that's okay. But you're not seeing the whole picture."
Victor scoffed and shot her a glare so fierce it could've melted steel. "The whole picture? What whole picture, Sarah? I'm a machine! What part of that is okay?"
Sarah met his glare without flinching. "This isn't about being a machine, okay? It's about you being you. You're still Victor Stone, no matter what your body looks like." She made a 'see it from my perspective' gesture toward the metal limbs. "Look, I know you're angry, but your dad didn't do this just because he felt like it. He did it because he wanted you alive."
Victor let out a snort, a small burst of laugh that quickly turned to frustration. "Alive? Alive is watching your mom die and getting stitched together like some science project! This—" he gestured at his body, "—this is just a giant middle finger to what I used to be."
Across the room, Silas winced. The words were a punch to the gut, but it wasn't the first time. "I... I did what I could," Silas muttered, finally turning from his monitor to face his son. "I couldn't lose you, Victor. I couldn't lose both of you. I lost your mother... and I couldn't—" He broke off, his voice thick with emotion. "I couldn't do that to you, too."
Victor's face softened for just a moment, a flicker of the boy he used to be—the son he used to be. But it was quickly buried under the weight of all that had changed. "I didn't ask for this, Dad. I didn't ask to be a half-baked science experiment just so you could feel less guilty about Mom."
Silas's eyes tightened. "I never wanted this, Victor. I wanted... I wanted my son back, just like you. But I didn't want to lose you the way I lost her." His voice cracked, and for a split second, the scientist—cold, calculating, and usually unshaken—sounded like a father. A broken, flawed father.
Victor stood up quickly, pacing back and forth, his mechanical limbs making an unsettling clicking sound with every step. "You never gave me a choice," he said, each word sharp with anger. "You just did what you thought was right without asking me."
"I... I didn't know what else to do," Silas murmured. "There was no time to ask. You were dying, and I—I couldn't stand the thought of losing you." His voice grew quieter. "Not like your mother."
Victor clenched his fists, the metal groaning under the pressure. "Don't ever bring her up again, Dad."
Sarah, sensing the breaking point in the air, stepped forward. "Victor, listen," she said, reaching out to gently take his hand, her fingers lightly brushing against the cold metal. "I know you're mad. I know you're confused, but you've got to stop looking at your father like he's the enemy. You're not the only one hurting here."
Victor looked at her, his eyes filled with an emotion he didn't know how to name. "You're really trying to play mediator now?" he asked, his tone sharper than it needed to be. "Just like that?"
"Victor, I'm not on anyone's side," Sarah replied, unflinching. "I'm on your side. I'm here to help you, not fight you. If you think this is easy for anyone, you're wrong. But we all need to work together, or this isn't going to work. None of it."
Victor let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He hated how true that sounded. But it didn't make it any easier. "I don't know if I can do this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can be this. This... machine."
"Look at me, Victor," Sarah said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're not just a machine. You're Victor Stone. And if you want to get through this, you need to take it one step at a time. Just one step."
Victor let out a bitter chuckle, though it didn't sound like a laugh at all. "One step at a time, huh?" he muttered. "That's rich. But fine. I guess that's all I've got left."
Sarah smiled softly, but it wasn't a smile of victory—it was a smile of understanding. "We all have to start somewhere."
And in that moment, even if he didn't believe it, Victor realized Sarah might be right. Maybe one step was all he could take. But it was a step, and that was something.
It was better than nothing. And sometimes, that was enough.
—
Victor stood there like a man who'd just been handed a pile of Legos and told to build a skyscraper, except the Legos were made of metal, and the skyscraper was his life. He looked like he was about to launch into a rant about how stupid it was that he had to get used to his own body again—because, really, how messed up was that? But instead, he just clenched his metal fist and tried to resist the urge to throw something—anything—across the room. It wasn't working. Everything felt... wrong. His body didn't feel like his body anymore. It was like living in someone else's house and never quite getting used to the creaky floorboards.
Sarah watched him, arms folded across her chest, looking about as casual as someone who wasn't trying to babysit a walking ball of anger and confusion. She was good at this—holding space for someone, letting them be frustrated without throwing in a bunch of advice that would just make things worse. But today, she had a different plan.
"Okay, how about we take a break from the whole 'tech wizard' routine and try something simpler?" she suggested, stepping a little closer and giving him an encouraging smile that seemed to say, I know this is weird, but I'm still here. "I was thinking we could, you know, get you reacquainted with your body. You know, really feel it."
Victor gave her a look that could have burned a hole through a wall. "Feel my body? Are you seriously asking me to hug the metal arm or something?" His voice was half-amused, half-disbelieving, like she had just suggested he do a handstand and sing opera.
"No, no hugging the arm," Sarah replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "But maybe, just maybe, you could try getting used to... existing in it? One part at a time. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"
Victor rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out of his head. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the metal arm does something weird and I accidentally punch a hole through the wall? That could be fun."
Sarah shrugged. "Look, I'm not saying this will be easy, but it beats moping around and pretending you can't feel it. You've got to start somewhere, right? Let's start with your hand."
Victor stared at his metal hand like it was a snake that was about to bite him. It was cold and shiny, all sharp edges and complicated machinery. He hated it. He hated that it wasn't his. It felt like a stranger attached to his arm, and every time he moved it, it was like it had a mind of its own. But Sarah wasn't giving him a way out.
"Alright," he muttered, sounding like a grumpy teenager who'd just been told to do chores. "Fine. One part at a time. This is dumb, but... whatever."
He extended his fingers, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was testing the waters in an ocean that might swallow him whole. The joints clicked and whirred, and for a second, he thought it was going to snap back at him—like it was some sort of trap. But... no. It didn't. It moved. Slowly, but it moved.
Sarah's voice cut through his concentration, soft but persistent. "Good. See? You're getting the hang of it. That's the start, Victor. Keep it going."
Victor clenched and unclenched his fist a few more times, feeling the metal against his skin, the way the joints shifted with each movement. The more he did it, the more... normal it felt. It wasn't quite his old hand, but it was something. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Alright, alright. I get it," he said, his voice tinged with reluctant approval. "Not as terrible as I thought."
Sarah grinned. "See? Told you. You don't need to fight it, just... live with it for a while. Baby steps, Victor. Baby steps."
Victor smirked, his fingers still curling and uncurling. "Yeah, yeah. I'm basically a metal zombie now. Baby steps to world domination."
Sarah snorted. "Maybe not world domination. But hey, one small step for man, one giant leap for you and your new shiny limbs, right?"
Victor shot her a side-eye, but there was no real heat behind it. "Okay, Coach, what's next on the 'how to deal with being a walking cyborg' agenda?"
She threw a playful punch to his shoulder—well, to the part of his shoulder that still felt human, anyway. "Oh, we're not done yet. You've got to work your legs too. You can't just rely on your fancy new arm to do all the work. Time to get that body moving."
Victor's face twisted in mild horror. "Wait, are you telling me to walk now? Really?"
"Yup," Sarah said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "You've got to get the whole package working. Legs, arms, torso. The whole shebang."
Victor stood there for a moment, clearly trying to decide if he could somehow avoid this. But then, with a sigh that was half exhaustion, half resignation, he pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt like jelly at first, but after a couple of shaky steps, they started to remember how to do this whole 'walking' thing.
"This is ridiculous," Victor muttered, taking one slow step after another. His metal foot made a satisfying clank on the floor, and he couldn't help but feel a little like a robot straight out of a B-movie. "Who needs to do yoga when I've got the grace of a giraffe on roller skates?"
"Oh, you are graceful," Sarah teased, trailing behind him. "Just wait, you'll be gliding around the room like a ballerina in no time."
Victor gave her an exaggerated look. "Yeah, if the ballerina's been hit by a truck and is learning to walk again."
Sarah burst out laughing, and even Victor had to fight the urge to crack a smile. This was weird, but it wasn't terrible. It wasn't perfect, but then again, when had anything in his life ever been perfect?
"See? It's not so bad," Sarah said, her voice warm and encouraging. "Just keep moving."
He took a few more steps, his pace steadying as he found his rhythm. "Alright, alright. Fine. I'll admit it's a little better than being stuck in my head all day. But you're still not turning me into a yoga instructor, right?"
"Hey," Sarah shot back, grinning. "Never say never."
Victor couldn't help it. He smirked, a little more at ease now than he had been an hour ago. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"
"And yet you keep me around," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with fake innocence.
Victor's smirk softened into something almost like a smile, the kind he only wore when he wasn't sure if he could trust it yet. "I guess. For now."
One step at a time. Maybe that's how this whole living in my new body thing worked.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!