The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, and Mark slowly blinked awake, warmth pressing against his side. Kara had curled into him at some point during the night, her arm draped over his chest, one leg hooked over his. Her breath was slow and steady, her golden hair spilling across the pillows. He smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her cheek. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before nuzzling closer to him. Carefully, Mark untangled himself from her embrace, slipping out of bed without disturbing her. He stretched his arms above his head before rolling his shoulders, feeling a few pops along his back. Scratching his head, he made his way downstairs, the scent of breakfast filling the air before he even reached the kitchen.
When he stepped inside, he found Raven at the stove, effortlessly managing two tasks at once—flipping eggs with one hand while nursing Waylon at her breast with the other. She looked calm, her violet eyes briefly flicking toward Mark as he walked over to her.
"Morning," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to her temple before turning his attention to his son. "And good morning to you too, little guy."
Waylon squirmed slightly, making a tiny noise that wasn't quite a cry but wasn't far from one. Mark grinned and brushed a finger across his tiny hand, feeling his son's grip instinctively latch onto him.
"Did you sleep well?" Raven asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"Like a baby," Mark replied as he took a seat around the kitchen island.
Raven hummed as she continued cooking, shifting Waylon slightly to get more comfortable. After a few moments of quiet, she finally asked, "So... why were you so late yesterday?"
Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Ended up helping out in Gotham."
Raven's brow raised slightly. "Helping how?"
Mark exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was at the mall when some idiots tried to rob the place. Things escalated, Batgirl showed up, and I ended up helping." He picked up a spoon from the counter and absentmindedly twirled it in his fingers. "Turns out Batgirl is Barbara Gordon, and I said to her I'd help out around Gotham some more."
"Crazy that Batgirl turned out to be Barbara..."
Raven didn't even blink. "Naturally."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "You knew?"
"Of course."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why would I?" she said simply. "You never mentioned you knew a Barbara."
Mark groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the cool surface of the kitchen island. "I suppose so."
Raven shifted slightly, adjusting her hold on Waylon. "So... tell me about this helping in Gotham."
Mark grumbled into the counter. "I said I'd cover for her until she's fully recovered."
There was a brief silence, then a soft giggle. Mark's head shot up, his eyes narrowing at Raven, who was still wearing her usual neutral expression as she spooned eggs onto a plate.
"Did you just laugh?"
"No," she said flatly.
Mark squinted. "Are you sure? Because it really sounded like—"
"Breakfast is ready," she interrupted smoothly, placing a plate in front of him.
Mark shook his head, muttering something about smartass wives before picking up his fork. As he ate, he glanced at Raven. "How was dinner with the Kents?"
Raven sat across from him, gently rocking Waylon now that he had finished feeding. "Nicer than I expected."
Mark smirked. "See? Told you there was no reason to be nervous."
"I wasn't nervous," Raven said, her tone just a bit too defensive.
Mark chuckled as he continued eating.
Before he could finish his plate, heavy footsteps sounded down the stairs, followed by a dramatic groan. Kara waddled into the kitchen, her hands cradling her round belly.
"Seriously, no one woke me up?" she complained, shuffling over to Mark before wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her belly pressing against his back.
Mark smiled and patted her hand. "You looked peaceful. Didn't want to wake you."
Kara groaned "I feel so pregnant today... must be the Father's thick head... not looking forward to pushing that out."
Kara huffed. "This baby better not ruin my figure, or I'm kicking your ass."
Mark let out a short laugh. "Pretty sure that won't happen."
"It better not," she grumbled.
At her words, Raven cast a brief glance down at her own stomach, subtly checking for any imperfections.
Kara sighed, finally pulling back and stretching. "Oh, right, Pa Kent asked if you could take a look at the harvester. It's been acting up."
Mark swallowed the last bite of food before nodding. "I'll head over after I shower."
"Thank you, hun." Kara smiled and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips—before sneakily pulling his plate away and taking a bite for herself.
Mark raised an eyebrow but chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Guess I'm heading out early."
He turned to Raven, leaning in and kissing her as well before heading upstairs. He stripped down, stepping into the shower and letting the hot water ease the tension in his muscles. It was a short shower—no time to relax when there was work to do. Once he was done, he dried off, got dressed, and headed out. Walking across the farmland, he spotted the old harvester sitting near the edge of the field, right where Jonathan Kent had said it would be. He could already tell from a glance that something was off. The machine looked fine on the outside, but the way it sat, slightly uneven, told him there was something wrong with the mechanics underneath.
He walked past the harvester and headed up to the Kent house and knocked on the door. Mark stepped up onto the porch of the Kent house and knocked on the door. Within seconds, the sound of footsteps approached, and when the door swung open, he was immediately greeted by the warm, familiar smile of Martha Kent.
"Mark, dear, it's so good to see you!" Martha beamed, reaching out to take his hands in hers. "Come in, come in. You're up bright and early! Have you eaten yet? I just made some biscuits, and I could whip up some eggs in no time."
Mark chuckled at her energy, shaking his head. "I appreciate it, Mrs. Kent, but I ate before coming here."
Martha's smile didn't falter. "Well, at least let me get you something to drink. You must be thirsty after flying all the way here."
Mark knew there was no point in arguing. "That'd be great, thanks."
She ushered him inside, leading him through the cozy farmhouse. The place smelled of fresh bread, coffee, and a hint of lavender from the bouquet sitting on the counter. As they entered the kitchen, Mark spotted Jonathan Kent at the table, his reading glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through the newspaper. He looked up when they entered, setting the paper down with a knowing smile.
"Morning, son," Jonathan greeted, standing up and offering a firm handshake. Mark took it, feeling the strength in the older man's grip. Despite his years, Jonathan Kent was still built like a man who had spent his life working the land. "Kara told me you'd be stopping by. Said you might be able to help with the harvester."
Mark nodded as Martha handed him a glass of cold iced tea. "Yeah, she mentioned it was giving you trouble."
Jonathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Been on its last legs for a few years now, but I think it's finally given out. I've been saving up for a new one, but those damn things are worth a small fortune."
"I tried to get ol' Henry to come take a look, but his daughter hasn't been too well recently," he added.
Mark took a sip of the tea, nodding as he set the glass down. "I'll take a look at it. No problem."
Jonathan smiled in appreciation. "I'd sure appreciate that. I'll take you over—"
"Oh no, you don't," Martha interjected, hands on her hips. "You sit right back down and finish your breakfast first."
Jonathan sighed but obeyed, shaking his head with a small chuckle as he sat back down. "She's been bossing me around like this for forty years, you know."
"And you love every second of it," Martha quipped back, placing a plate in front of him before giving Mark a knowing smile.
Mark chuckled as he watched them. It was rare to see a marriage that had lasted this long and still had this much warmth to it. He leaned back against the counter, sipping his drink and waiting while Jonathan finished his meal.
Eventually, when Jonathan was done, he led Mark outside toward the fields. The morning sun was bright but not too harsh, the fresh air carrying the faint scent of soil and grass.
"So," Mark started as they walked, "what's the secret?"
Jonathan glanced at him. "Secret?"
"To a long, happy marriage," Mark clarified. "You and Mrs. Kent seem... solid."
Jonathan smiled. "Patience. Understanding. And knowing when to let her be right even when she's not."
Mark chuckled. "Sounds about right."
They reached the harvester, a massive, rust-colored machine that looked like it had seen better days. Mark walked around it, scanning it before crouching down. Jonathan stood beside him, arms crossed. "How's it look?"
Mark lay on his back, scooting under the machine. As soon as he did, something clicked. His mind instantly broke the harvester down into its individual components, visualizing them in perfect 3D images in his head. Every bolt, every gear, every wire—he could see how it all fit together, how each part interacted, how the engine should function.
It was a strange sensation, something he still wasn't fully used to. His old self would've had no idea what to do here. Before everything, before Viltrumite blood, before the war, before everything, he couldn't even fix a damn bike. Now, he could take apart and rebuild an entire engine in his head as easily as breathing.
He spotted the problem almost instantly. A few key components in the fuel intake had rusted through, and a couple of the hydraulic connections were leaking. Simple fixes. He reached out, adjusting a few pieces, letting his fingers move almost instinctively as he reconnected the damaged sections.
"So," Jonathan spoke up while Mark worked, "how's living with Kara and Raven?"
Mark, still tightening a bolt, shrugged. "Good."
Jonathan chuckled. "That's good to hear. A lot of men your age would be terrified of that kind of commitment. A wife, a baby..."
Mark adjusted another piece, wiping some grease off his hand. "I was scared at first. But I never could've left them. I love them too much."
Jonathan nodded, looking out over the fields for a moment. "That's good, son."
There was a brief silence before Jonathan sighed. "Truth be told, I was a little concerned when Kara told me about your little arrangement."
Mark slid out from under the harvester, sitting up as he dusted off his hands. "Understandable. I wouldn't want the same if I had a daughter."
"Yeah," Jonathan admitted. "But I do understand. You were under some strange circumstances... what I'm trying to say is, I'm glad Kara is with someone like you."
Mark stood up, nodding at him. "I appreciate that."
He turned toward the harvester, flipping the ignition switch. The engine rumbled to life, smooth and steady, no signs of struggle. Jonathan's eyes widened in pleasant surprise, a grin forming as he placed his hands on his hips.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said, stepping closer. "I haven't heard it purr like that in years."
As Jonathan admired the now-working machine, Mark felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A message from Barbara.
*Location attached. Get here ASAP*
Mark sighed, already feeling the weight of responsibility settling on him again. He slid the phone back into his pocket and turned to Jonathan.
"Looks like I'm being called in," Mark said. "Tell Martha I said goodbye, yeah?"
Jonathan gave him a knowing nod. "Go do what you gotta do."
Mark stepped back, cracked his neck, then shot off into the sky, the wind roaring past him as he angled toward Gotham. Mark moved through the sky at speeds that made commercial airliners look like they were standing still. The lights of Gotham grew larger beneath him. He pulled out his phone mid-flight, checked the location Barbara had sent, and adjusted course.
His brow furrowed as he neared his destination.
Wayne Manor.
He slowed down, hovering above the massive estate. Everyone in Gotham knew this place. It was the Wayne Manor—home to Bruce Wayne, billionaire, tech mogul, and general rich asshole from what Mark had heard.
Then something clicked in his head.
Barbara was Batgirl. She was here. But as far as he knew, Barbara had no personal connection to Bruce Wayne. And yet, she was here, of all places. Add that to the fact that Bruce Wayne was around the same height and build as Batman, who had disappeared around the same time Bruce Wayne stepped back from the public eye.
Mark narrowed his eyes.
That motherfucker is Batman.
It was the only explanation that made sense. His mind quickly pieced together everything—the secrecy, the way Batman moved and fought, the resources he clearly had access to, the insane tech, the way Gotham's entire underworld was terrified of one guy in a bat suit. Bruce Wayne was Batman. It was so obvious now that Mark wanted to smack himself for not seeing it earlier.
Floating down toward the grand entrance, he landed lightly in front of the massive wooden doors and pressed the doorbell. It took a few minutes, but eventually, the door swung open, revealing an older man dressed in a tailored black suit. He was balding, though his remaining silver hair was neatly combed back, and his face was lined with age and experience. His posture was straight, his eyes sharp—he wasn't just some butler. This guy had been through some shit.
"Good morning, Master Grayson," the man said in a refined English accent. Mark noticed how he winced slightly when he said the name though he didn't understand why as he'd never met the man.
"Uh... hey, Mr.?"
"Alfred Pennyworth," the man introduced himself. "You may call me Alfred for simplicity's sake."
Alfred stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. "Miss Barbara said to expect you. Please, come in."
Mark followed him into the manor, taking in the absurdly luxurious interior. Everything about this place screamed old money. Expensive paintings, finely polished wood floors, a massive chandelier overhead—it was all a bit much. Alfred led him through the halls, and as they neared a large study, Alfred suddenly stopped and turned to face Mark. His expression was unreadable, but there was an unmistakable weight in his gaze.
"Miss Barbara has vouched for you, which is the only reason I am extending you this level of trust," Alfred said calmly. "You will see things that are not meant for the outside world. I ask that you do not betray that trust."
Mark crossed his arms. "I wouldn't do that. She's my friend."
Alfred studied him for a moment before nodding. "I see."
Without another word, he turned and walked toward an old grandfather clock positioned against the wall. He reached behind it, pressed something, and with a quiet click, the clock swung open, revealing a hidden staircase descending into darkness.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "A secret entrance behind a clock? That's a bit cliché."
Alfred smirked faintly. "Some traditions are worth keeping."
Mark followed him down. As they descended, the air grew colder, the walls shifting from polished wood to raw stone. The deeper they went, the more the space opened up until they finally emerged into a massive underground cavern.
Mark stopped, his eyes widening slightly.
The Batcave.
It was... a lot.
The entire space was dimly lit, the glow of computer screens casting eerie blue light across the stone walls. A massive central console dominated the room, its screens displaying city maps, surveillance footage, and crime reports in real time. Along the walls were rows of armored suits, each with slight variations in design. There were vehicles—a fucking tank—and enough gadgets to make the military jealous. The ceiling stretched high, natural rock formations blending seamlessly with reinforced structures. Water dripped in the distance, the faint hum of servers filling the cavernous space.
Alfred led him toward the central computer, where Barbara sat, her fingers flying across the keyboard. When she noticed them approaching, she quickly got up and rushed over.
Mark barely had time to react before she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm glad you're here."
Mark returned the hug, a small smile forming. "I promised, didn't I?"
Barbara pulled back, smiling up at him. Mark hadn't realized how much he'd missed seeing that smile.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his arm. "I'll give you a quick tour."
She walked him through the cave, pointing out various things—the Batcomputer, the vehicle bay, the training area. He listened, nodding occasionally, but his attention kept drifting back to the suits lined up along the walls. Eventually, after the tour, Mark turned to her. "So... what exactly am I supposed to be doing? Just going out on patrol or what?"
Barbara hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well... there's been a slight change of plans."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "Barbara..."
"Listen! It's not bad," she said quickly. "I just need you to do something a little extra."
Mark folded his arms. "Uh-huh."
"It's not bad, I promise," she insisted.
Mark sighed. "What is it?"
Barbara hesitated again, then finally said, "I need you to pretend to be Batman."
Mark stared at her blankly. "...What the fuck."
Barbara winced. "Okay, listen—"
"No, no, no," Mark interrupted. "What the fuck."
Barbara raised her hands defensively. "Look, Gotham's been getting worse since Batman disappeared. The fear he put in criminals? It's fading. They're getting bolder."
"Get him back," Mark said flatly.
"I tried," Barbara snapped.
"Try harder," he shot back.
"I am," she said through gritted teeth. "But in the meantime, I don't want Gotham to fall apart."
Mark exhaled through his nose. "So what, you want me to put on the suit, run around, and pretend I'm him? Just keep my powers on the down low and act like Batman?"
"Exactly," Barbara said with a grin.
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ."
"It's not a big deal!" she insisted. "You just need to keep up the illusion and stop crime. It's easy."
Mark let out a long sigh. He already agreed to help out. This wasn't that much different. And as much as he wanted to argue, she had a point—Gotham needed the symbol of Batman.
"...Fine. I'll do it."
Barbara squealed and immediately hugged him again, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "You are the best."
Mark groaned but didn't push her off.
Barbara grabbed his hand and practically dragged him over to the costume cabinets. She gestured toward them. "Pick one. Luckily, you and Bruce are around the same size."
Mark looked over the suits, but he wasn't exactly thrilled about wearing one of Bruce's old outfits. Then an idea hit him.
'Eve,' he thought.
[Yes, Mark?] the AI responded instantly.
'Can you emulate these costumes but make them more combat-oriented and sleeker?'
[Scanning...]
There was a brief pause before Eve responded.
[Scan complete. Emulating design.]
Mark felt the nanites shift over his skin, spreading out and forming into something new. Within seconds, a sleek, armored Batsuit materialized over his body. The design was modernized—sleek, tactical, with reinforced plating in key areas. The cowl formed seamlessly, sharp yet streamlined, and the cloak draped naturally over his shoulders.
Barbara took a step back, her eyes wide. "Holy shit."
Mark glanced down at himself, flexing his fingers. The suit felt natural, light yet durable.
"Well," he muttered, "I guess I'm Batman now."
Barbara practically vibrated with excitement as she circled around Mark, her eyes darting over every inch of the suit.
"Okay, first of all, holy shit, second of all, what is this? How does it work? Is it metal? Is it fabric? It looks like a composite blend but—wait, does it have a built-in AI? Can it change form? Is it pressure-resistant? Can it withstand armor-piercing rounds? What about extreme temperatures? How strong is it compared to the actual Batsuits? What's the power source? Oh my God, this is insane—"
Mark held up a hand, trying to get a word in, but she wasn't slowing down.
"Does it have active camouflage? How does it integrate with your nervous system? Does it boost your reaction time? Wait, how the hell did you even get something like this? This is way beyond anything I've seen, even from Bruce's R&D department—"
"Barbara!" Mark finally snapped, rubbing his temple. "Jesus, slow down."
Barbara blinked, finally stopping herself. "Right. Okay. Sorry. But—explain."
Mark sighed. "It's called Eve. A nano-suit I got from the underground auction."
Barbara folded her arms. "And where exactly in the auction did you get a full-body nanotech exosuit?"
Mark's jaw tightened for a second, the memories of that night flickering through his mind. "I got it from Harley I'm not sure where she got it, it looked different then. It was after my fight with the Joker. I was dying, and Eve merged with me to keep me alive."
Barbara frowned slightly. "So you have nanobots in your bloodstream?"
Mark shrugged. "I guess so." He lifted his arm, flexed his fingers, and then shifted them. The nanites responded instantly, his hand dissolving into a sleek, curved blade.
Barbara's eyes widened. "That is so cool." She reached out, inspecting the edge of the weaponized limb. "Is it vibrating at a micro-level? It has to be if it's this sharp. I bet—"
Mark sighed. "Focus, Barbara. You can geek out later."
She flushed slightly, pulling back. "Right, right. Sorry."
Mark let the nanites shift back, reforming his hand before flexing his fingers. Barbara quickly ushered him over to the Batcomputer, grabbing a small earpiece from the desk.
"Alright," she said, placing it in his hand. "This will let me stay in contact with you. I'll monitor the city and let you know if anything big happens, but otherwise, you're free to handle whatever petty crime you find."
Mark nodded, securing the earpiece before glancing around the cave. His eyes landed on something near the center of the platform—a sleek black beast of a vehicle, all reinforced plating, aggressive angles, and sheer power.
The Batmobile.
Mark smirked. He'd be lying if he said he never wanted to drive it. As a kid, it had been the car—untouchable, legendary. And now? Now he had the perfect excuse.
He turned and casually started making his way toward it.
Barbara squinted. "Where do you think you're going?"
Mark glanced over his shoulder. "Gotta get around somehow. Can't exactly fly, can I?"
Barbara's eyes narrowed. "Oh no. No, no, no, no. You are not taking the Batmobile."
Mark gestured at himself. "I am Batman now, aren't I?"
Barbara scoffed. "Yeah, but you can't just take it. Bruce would lose his mind if he found out."
Mark smirked. "Bruce isn't here."
Barbara crossed her arms. "He will be eventually, and when he gets back, he will kick your ass."
Mark shrugged. "I'll take my chances."
Barbara groaned. "You are such a pain in the ass."
Mark turned back to the Batmobile.
"Mark, seriously—"
Mark looked at her again. "Barbara."
Barbara clenched her jaw. "Mark."
They stared at each other for a long moment, tension thick in the air. Then Barbara sighed, rubbing her face. "Fine. But if Bruce comes back, I'm blaming you."
"Deal."
Grumbling, she walked over to the console and punched in a code. "Okay, the activation sequence is—" She rattled off a long string of numbers, and the Batmobile's dashboard lit up in response. "Don't break it, and don't crash it. I swear to God, if you wreck it—"
"Relax," Mark said with a grin. "I'll take care of it."
She shot him a glare before handing him a utility belt. "Take this too. It's got all the standard Batman gear—grappling hook, smoke pellets, batarangs, rebreather, all that."
Mark slung it around his waist, laughing. "Man, this is actually kinda fun."
Barbara muttered something under her breath, shaking her head.
Without waiting any longer, Mark slid into the Batmobile's cockpit, the seat molding around him perfectly. The controls were complex but intuitive, and with a few quick taps, the entire vehicle roared to life. The engine's deep growl echoed through the cave, sending vibrations up through his seat.
He grinned. Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun.
Barbara folded her arms, still watching. "Just don't do anything stupid."
Mark winked. "No promises."
And with that, he slammed the accelerator.
The Batmobile launched forward, tires screeching as it shot down the underground tunnel and toward Gotham.
(AN: So Mark is now substitute Batman and he will be for a little bit, at least until he meets two important characters It may also soften him up a bit more to being a hero. Don't worry he won't join the justice league and never will and he won't suddenly become a goody goody who thinks people can be redeemed. If someone does terrible things they'll have the same done to them. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it.)
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