𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖒, 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖘

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓 spit her out on Earth through a portal, and all Raven could do was cry as she stared up at the pale blue sky, small clouds drifting by without a care in the world. The indifferent beauty of it only deepened the ache in her chest. Her bloodied hands trembled as her gaze fell to the ring resting in her palm. A watery frown pulled at her lips as she brought it to her mouth, pressing a soft, sorrowful kiss to its surface.

She knelt in the grass for what felt like an eternity, the events replaying in her mind in an endless, torturous loop. If only she had been stronger. If only she could have done something different. But the truth was harsh—she hadn't had the power.

A choked sigh escaped her as she forced herself to her feet on wobbly legs, pushing every emotion to the furthest corners of her mind. She couldn't afford to feel. Not now. Not when the risk of setting off a beacon to her father lingered with every flicker of her magic. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, shielding her face from the glaring sun and the world's prying eyes.

She didn't know where she was or where she was going. Her feet moved on their own, carrying her through the forest in slow, deliberate steps. The scenery around her was foreign yet strangely familiar—just another endless stretch of trees, their silence offering no answers.

The air was thick and unfamiliar, so far removed from the serene yet suffocating halls of Azarath. Memories swirled in her mind, fragments of destruction, her father's laughter, and the magic that had torn her apart. She placed a trembling hand to her forehead, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"Azula," she whispered under her breath—a name she had chosen to help distance herself from the chaos inside her. It felt like armour, a barrier between Raven and the pain that threatened to consume her. Azula was controlled. Azula was strong.

She glanced down at her clothing—the black leotard tight around her torso and the long purple cloak over her shoulders, hiding her form from the world. That would need to change and materialized a glamor over her body, now wearing a dark hoodie and jeans that clung awkwardly to her form to blend in. Nothing about this world felt natural anymore even with the new clothes. Earth had become a blur, distorted by the years she had spent in Azarath. The people, the buildings, the noise—it all moved differently, felt differently.

Yet there was something comforting in that difference. Something... normal.

Raven stopped walking, closing her eyes again and pulling her focus inward. She needed a plan. Her father would be searching for her, and she had no idea how long she could stay hidden. But Earth had its heroes, didn't it? People who made a life out of fighting monsters like him.

Bruce Wayne.

The name surfaced in her mind like a lifeline. He was a hero, perhaps the hero, who had a penchant for taking in strays—the orphaned, the broken. Perhaps... he could be her refuge.

Raven had re-learned the basics of survival: where to get food, where to sleep, how to avoid attention. But her instincts kept pushing her toward one thought: Bruce Wayne. This man might be her only chance at gaining the stability she needed to rebuild. To heal. To have a chance to defeat Trigon and avenge Azarath, once and for all.

She'd been using her magic sparingly, only when absolutely necessary. The temptation to lose control was always there, but she was trying to keep the beast inside chained. It wasn't easy. Not after everything that had happened.

She'd learned where Wayne Enterprises was in Gotham City. She'd found the address, the public information. She knew where he lived—Wayne Manor. It wasn't exactly a place that screamed "easy access," but she had her ways. And besides, she was more than capable of figuring out how to get in. This wasn't Azarath, but she was still Raven, after all.

By the time she reached Gotham, it was night, and the city felt colder than she had imagined—darker, more oppressive. She had never been fond of cities, but this one, with its winding alleys and towering buildings, felt like a place of secrets. Raven pulled the hood of her jacket low over her face, trying to blend in with the shadows.

She followed the streets, the rooftops, staying hidden in plain sight. Gotham's skyline loomed in the distance, and she knew that somewhere among those high walls, Bruce Wayne waited—whether he knew it or not.

She would find him. She had to.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 later when she had created a plan, it was extreme, but it was better than showing up on his doorstep asking for help. She would showcase the need for his help with taking down Trigon; to show he was a threat and that Raven could be instrumental in helping him with her abilities.

But could she trust him? Could she trust anyone after everything she had been through? She didn't know which world she was in, which Batman this was only that Robin was around—after seeing him in action briefly, the night before—she wasn't sure which one it was though. Her resolve tightened and she set loose demonic illusions of her father's followers - demons that had ravaged Azarath, she hated seeing them but reminded herself she needed to do this and they were simply illusions. Trigon couldn't follow her here without her.

While they didn't kill anyone, they caused terror around the outskirts of Gotham to catch his attention and that they did.

The forest outside Gotham is unnervingly quiet, save for the growls of demons and the rhythmic clinking of batarangs ricocheting off their unnatural forms. Smoke blankets the ground, obscuring Batman's movements as he dodges another attack, his movements swift but laboured. Seven demons circle him, their glowing red eyes gleaming with malice. His punches connect but do little more than pass through their smoky forms.

She watches for a moment as a demon's claw grazes Batman's arm. Her eyes glow with dark energy as she steps out of the shadows, her hands raised. Arcane sigils form in the air around her, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

"Azerath Metrion Zinthos!"

The words echo like thunder as mystical circles appear beneath the demons, trapping them. They howl and writhe, unable to escape the magical binds. A tendril of her soul-self lashes out, piercing through one demon's chest. It erupts into ash. One by one, the others fall, leaving only Raven and Batman amidst the dissipating smoke.

Batman straightens, his breathing heavy. Blood drips from a cut on his right arm, staining his gauntlet. He turns to face her, his expression unreadable beneath the cowl.

"Are you okay?" She asks, turning towards the man in a bat costume. Batman studied her, his expression unreadable. But Raven felt the weight of his gaze. He was no ordinary man. He had seen pain. He had felt it. He grunts softly but says nothing, his posture guarded. Raven steps closer, her gaze dropping to the wound on his arm.

"Here let me help" she tells him, walking towards him and Batman instinctively steps back, his eyes narrowing. She sighs, crossing her arms and says, "if I wanted to kill you, I would've let the demons kill you."

He regards her for a long moment, then gives a small nod, holding still but probably getting Alfred to run a facial recognition on her or something. Raven steps closer, her hand hovering over his arm and looks over the split in Kevlar on his forearm gauntlet. Her eyes glow faintly as she extracts a black, oily substance from the cut. It dissipates into the air as she 'heals' him.

It only takes a moment and when she's finished, she tells him, "You need to be careful when dealing with demons."

He observes her, flexing his newly healed arm, testing it, before growling out a series of rapid questions, "who are you? What are your powers? Why did you help me?"

Raven lowers her hand, expression softening as she introduces herself, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Batman. My name is Raven, the last daughter of Azarath. My friends call me Azula." She bows her head, pressing her hand near her forehead and extending it outward in an Azarathian greeting. To her surprise, Batman mimics the gesture, albeit stiffly. It earns a small smile from her.

"The last daughter of Azarath? I have never heard of it, is it a planet?" He asked, silently wishing it wasn't another Superman situation.

She stood a little straighter, her expression growing sombre, "Not exactly. Azarath was an interdimensional realm... a peaceful sanctuary. It's gone now, destroyed because of my mistakes." Her voice falters, and flashes of Trigon and destruction flicker in her mind. Batman recognizes the look in her eyes—grief and guilt, emotions he knows all too well.

Batman nodded and seeing a familiar look in her eye that reminded him of himself, he gave her his condolences, "I'm sorry but you can't blame yourself."

She nodded in thanks and mournfully told him the truth, "But I do. I was overcome with emotions when my mentor died, and I grew overconfident with my abilities. A demon was let loose on my world and destroyed it. My cambion biology is why they are all dead and why I have no home."

He stands in silence for a few moments, mulling her words over in his head. "Cambion? Half human and demon then," he questions, watching her nod in agreement. "Yes, my father is a demon, and my mother was a human," Raven responds stoically.

"Was? She's dead?" Batman points out the obvious past tense she used, and Raven's face doesn't change while she answers, "Yes, killed by my father."

"...I'm sorry to hear that," Batman tells her, his voice lowering from the intimidating growl that was known to be Batman's voice. She smiles lightly and tells him softly, "thank you, Bruce."

He freezes, his jaw tightening caught off guard by her response, "Bruce?"

Raven holds the finch back, mentally kicking herself and continue, "Yes, you are Bruce Wayne are you not?" She hoped it was, and she wasn't in some other dimension where it was his father, Thomas Wayne. She prepared for Bruce Wayne, the man who takes in stray after stray.

He observes her for a moment, sighing annoyed, knowing his secret identity was up and asked, "How do you know?"

She chuckles lightly, rubbing the back of her nape as she explains, "Come on. You're one of the richest men in the world. It's not hard to put two and two together. Robin gave you away, by the way."

She waited for his response, hoping her spiel would impress him but she only received a hmm. She looked deeper into him, focusing on his emotions and winced. What a poor man, she thought - his emotions of pain, darkness and self-hatred are very overwhelming. He almost drowned in them, she could see Dick Grayson and Alfred were his only lights, but they flickered and were hard to see with the blank void of darkness in his heart.

"Robin?" He questions with a tight jaw.

"Yeah, he's a little too acrobatic for a random sidekick. Flying Grayson's, right?" She asks with a smile, but Batman lets out a quiet "hmm," his expression unreadable.

She senses his annoyance and winces, realizing she's overstepped. "I'm also a telepath, sorry, it's hard to control."

"You need training," he comments with a harsh tone.

"Tell me something i don't know," she tells him, there were no more witches of Azarath and most of the magic used by people here used different magic types. Zatanna used backwards magic, Doctor Fate used the helmet and John used archaic and old magic.

He nods in contemplation and begins to walk away, and she watches him walk away in confusion. Then he asks without turning his back to look at her, "well, are you coming?"

Raven blinks, then smiles faintly, jogging to catch up. She matches his stride, falling into step beside him. She stays silent after they walk for another moment and asks him, "uh bats, do you want me to teleport us there?"

He tries to hide his surprise and looks down at her when he stops and says harshly, "Don't call me bats and why didn't you say that before?"

She shrugs quietly, and her hand moves out to open a portal as she focuses on the Batcave from his mind. He silently gaps at it, watching her as she walks through it first - clearly not trusting her just yet. He hesitantly steps inside, following her.

"How do you know where the Batcave is?" he questions darkly, looking around at his base of operations, nothing was out of place, and they were truly there not in a well-made illusion.

"Well, your Bruce Wayne so I would assume your base is under your mansion also..." She tells him, trailing off as he finishes her sentence, "You read my mind again?"

She nods sheepishly and answers, "Yeah sorry, I wanted to look cool."

Batman sighs, muttering under his breath as Raven chuckles. Despite himself, he feels a flicker of amusement. Maybe she's not so bad. He walks towards his large computer, settling down in the chair and Raven follows after him, looking around the Batcave in its glory with a smile.

It's all going according to plan.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐃, 𝐇𝐄𝐑 breath heavy with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. She could feel the walls closing in again—the tightness in her chest, the pressure in her mind. She needed to speak before she lost the courage.

"I didn't just come here for protection," Raven finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I came here because... he's coming. My father. Trigon."

Bruce's head turned slightly toward her; his eyes narrowed. The name alone sent a chill down his spine.

"Why are you here?" he asked, voice low and almost... resigned. He already knew the answer, but he needed her to say it. "What do you want from me?"

Raven turned to face him, her eyes hardening, a flicker of the old pain flashing across her face. She could feel it rising—the overwhelming rage, the guilt, the fear. But she held it back, locking it down as best she could. She was Azula now. She had to be.

"I've been running from him my entire life," she said, her voice quieter now, almost raw. "Trigon... He's more than just a demon. He's an unstoppable force. He can bend reality itself. I'm the only one who can stop him—but only if I'm strong enough. And... I can't do it alone. I thought maybe you could help me."

Bruce studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. But inside, something shifted. He could see the truth in her words. There was darkness inside her, yes. But there was also light. And if she was right—if her father was as dangerous as she said—then stopping him was no longer a choice. It was a necessity.

Bruce spoke, his voice cold, calculating. "You're not alone. Not while you're here. We'll train you. You'll learn to control your powers. You'll learn how to fight back."

She nodded slowly, but her eyes were filled with doubt. "And what if it's not enough? What if he destroys this world, like he destroyed Azarath?"

"It won't happen," Bruce said, his tone firm. "Not while I'm here. We'll stop him."

And in that moment, Raven felt a strange sense of peace. She had been alone for so long, and yet, standing next to Bruce—facing the looming threat of her father—she didn't feel as lost anymore.

Maybe she could do this. Maybe she wasn't alone.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 her up a hidden staircase and into Wayne Manor's grand interior. The sudden shift from dark, cold stone to warm, polished wood feels surreal. They are greeted by an older man, Alfred, his grey hair is nicely pulled back with gel and a nice moustache she could tell he was proud of. He stands at the base of the grand staircase, a faint smile on his face and his blue eyes shine with kindness.

Alfred eyes up the cloaked form of Raven with a raised eyebrow, "Master Bruce, another stray, I see? Will this become a habit?"

Bruce removes his cowl and gives Alfred a rare, faint smile and answers, "She's been through a lot, Alfred. I'll explain later. For now, she needs a place to rest."

Alfred turns his gaze to Raven, his sharp, yet kind eyes taking her in. She looks down, unsure of how to respond. He gently tells her, "You'll find no shortage of hospitality here, my dear. Welcome to Wayne Manor. Come, let's get you settled in, there's plenty of available rooms."

He gestures for her to follow, and Raven finds herself climbing the grand staircase, her boots softly echoing on the hardwood. Alfred leads her to a cozy room with high ceilings, a large bed, and a bay window overlooking the vast Wayne estate. "It's not Azarath, but I hope it will suffice," he tells her, letting her know he had overheard her conversation with Bruce.

Raven hesitates at the doorway, her voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you... for this."

Alferd smiles at her, gives her a small bow and responds, "Think nothing of it. I'll have some tea prepared shortly. Chamomile, perhaps?"

Raven nods, and Alfred leaves. She steps inside, running her fingers over the soft quilt on the bed. She sits by the window, gazing out into the sprawling gardens and knows this could be her home. It's much more lavish than she was used to in her past life and even Azarath—while she'll miss the gardens, her room of safety and her books and her mentor, Azar she wouldn't miss feeling like the odd one out. Perhaps she could ask Bruce for a large mirror so she could conserve better with Corvus.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 wandering the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor, a few hours later,her thoughts swirling as they always did. She felt out of place and thrust upon the Manor, but she didn't have anywhere else to go so she dealt with it. Alfred and Bruce were kind and were letting her have her privacy while they set things up for her; an identity, backgrounds, a bank account and even trying to enrol her into school, Gotham Academy. Being here reminded her of how hard it was to live, you couldn't just exist even with powers, the law always got in the way.

That's when she noticed him—Dick Grayson. He was sitting alone on a bench near the garden, his posture slouched, staring off into the distance with a book in his lap. Raven had heard Alfred mention, Master Dick once and said they would get an introduction after he finished school for the day – he was still wearing his dark uniform. He was a little younger than her, but there was something in his eyes that caught her attention.

She stood there for a moment, hesitating. She had never been good at talking to people. She had never needed to. But something about him—something about the way he looked so... lost—pulled her closer.

She sat down next to him, making an effort to keep her voice light, "You're not much for company, are you?"

Dick's eyes flicked toward her, and for a brief second, Raven saw something like surprise in them and nodded without saying a word and looking back down at his book. When he didn't respond to her, they sat in silence for a little bit before he finally broke it.

He shrugged, offering a half-hearted smile. "It's not that. I had a bad day...I wasn't up for new company, and I don't really like to hang around in the manor too much. It's... big. And empty."

Raven nodded, her gaze flicking toward the mansion as well. The truth of his words stung a little. It was big. It was empty.

"I get that," Raven said softly, her voice a little quieter now. She paused, then added, "I've always hated being alone."

Dick's eyes softened, and for the first time, he really looked at her—like he was seeing more than just the stranger in his father's old clothes. His voice was small, almost tentative. "You ever... you know... wish things could've been different?"

Raven felt a pang in her chest at his words. She wasn't sure what he meant at first. But then, the memories of Azarath, of her mother, of everything she had lost, hit her like a ton of bricks. And suddenly, it all clicked.

"I lost my family," she said, her voice betraying the rawness of the emotion she was trying to bury. "My home. My whole life."

Dick nodded slowly. His eyes darkened for a second, and she saw a flicker of something—pain. The same pain she carried inside her.

"I lost mine too," he said softly. "In a way, I guess we're both... orphans."

The word stung, but it wasn't as painful coming from him. There was a strange solidarity in his admission, a connection that Raven hadn't expected. She swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay, but there was something about Dick's vulnerability that made it all feel less impossible.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head, his voice barely audible. "I don't need your sympathy. I just... I get it. I know what it's like to lose everything."

Raven looked at him, a new understanding passing between them. They were both children of loss, both survivors of trauma. And in that moment, she realized something else—she wasn't the only one who had to fight. She wasn't the only one who had been broken.

"I'm Raven," she said, her voice quieter now, but there was a certain strength behind it. "But you can call me Azula."

He smiled—genuinely this time—and nodded. "I'm Dick."

There was silence between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable and maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward healing – for the both of them.

The bond between them, forged from shared pain, began to form. Raven didn't know yet how much it would help her in the coming days, but she was starting to see that there was strength in these connections. There was power in vulnerability. And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to face the coming storm.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐎 days later that Raven found herself annoyed at wearing Dick's clothing and decided to do something about it—shopping. Bruce cancelled an appointment for her, and they decided to make it a day while a whiney Dick had to go to school.

Wayne Manor's imposing front doors groaned softly as they opened, revealing Bruce Wayne—no longer clad in his fearsome Batman persona—stepping out into the brisk morning air. Behind him trailed Raven, her usual imposing presence muted without her cloak. Instead, she was dressed simply in dark jeans and oversized shirt, her posture stiff and awkward as though the clothes themselves were unfamiliar to her.

Alfred stood at the threshold, hands neatly clasped behind his back, watching the pair with an amused glint in his eye.

"Do try not to bankrupt the family fortune, Master Wayne," Alfred quipped, his tone laced with dry humour.

Bruce turned briefly, allowing a small grin to tug at the corners of his otherwise serious expression. "I'll try, Alfred."

The sleek, black car idled in the driveway, its glossy surface reflecting the morning light. Bruce opened the passenger door for Raven, who slid inside silently, her movements careful and deliberate. As the car purred to life and pulled onto the winding road that led to Gotham City, the silence between them stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.

It was Bruce who eventually broke it. His voice was calm, deliberate. "You don't have to get anything you don't like. This is about finding what makes you comfortable."

Raven glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "I'm not... used to this. Shopping, I mean."

Bruce's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead. "It's just clothes. No pressure."

When they arrived in downtown Gotham, the city buzzed with its usual rhythm—honking cars, distant sirens, and the faint hum of chatter from passersby. The boutique Bruce chose was tucked between two towering buildings, its sleek, minimalist sign suggesting exclusivity.

The store clerk's professional demeanour faltered for a moment when Bruce Wayne walked through the door, her expression shifting to one of polite recognition. Bruce waved her off with a subtle gesture, motioning for Raven to explore at her own pace.

Raven lingered near racks of dark clothing—black, muted purples, and soft greys that seemed to mirror her own aura. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of a dark sweater, pausing as though uncertain whether she should take it.

"That one suits you," Bruce said gently from a short distance away. "Try it on."

She gave him a sceptical look, hesitating for a moment before disappearing into the fitting room. When she emerged, the sweater fit her perfectly, its simplicity complementing her quiet strength. She tugged at the sleeves, clearly unsure of how she looked.

Bruce nodded; his approval understated but genuine. "It's perfect."

Over the next hour, they moved through the store, selecting a small wardrobe. Bruce remained patient, offering the occasional suggestion but never pressing her. By the time they left, Raven carried a modest collection of bags, her expression softer, her shoulders less tense.

As they walked back to the car, she glanced at Bruce, her voice quieter than usual. "Thank you. For... all of this."

"You don't need to thank me," Bruce replied. "You deserve a fresh start."

When they returned to Wayne Manor, Alfred met them at the door, his sharp eyes taking in the bags Raven carried. He offered an approving nod. "A fine haul, I see. I trust Master Bruce managed to keep his flamboyant tastes in check?"

Raven allowed the faintest smirk to curve her lips. "Barely."

Alfred chuckled, retreating toward the kitchen with the bags, leaving Bruce and Raven in the grand foyer. The vastness of the space seemed to echo with silence, but for once, it didn't feel oppressive. Raven turned to Bruce, a flicker of warmth breaking through her usually guarded expression.

"This... it's strange," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it feels like a family. A strange one, but a family."

Bruce's expression softened, his voice quieter now. "Families come in all shapes, Raven. You're part of this one now."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Raven allowed herself a small, genuine smile. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 silent except for the faint hum of the Batcomputer's processors. Bruce sits in his chair, cowl pulled back, his expression stoic and focused as his fingers fly across the keyboard. The screen displays an image of Raven, captured from the first time he met her in that forest a week ago. A new file begins to take shape: "Raven." He speaks into his recorder, his voice calm and methodical.

"Subject codename: Raven. Real name Raven Azarath or Azula. Claims to be the last daughter of Azarath, an interdimensional realm destroyed by demonic forces. Power set and lineage suggest significant risk and utility. Further observation and training required."

He pauses, leaning back in his chair as he thinks, then continues.

"Physiology and lineage: Raven identifies herself as a cambion—half-human, half-demon. Her father is Trigon, a high-level interdimensional demon with a documented history of mass destruction and conquest. Trigon's influence poses a constant threat, as his power may manifest through her or target her directly. Her mother, a human, is deceased—reportedly killed by Trigon. Subject carries significant guilt regarding her mother's death and the destruction of her homeland."

Bruce adjusts the screen, pulling up data he's been compiling on Trigon. His eyes narrow as he adds to the profile.

"Powers and abilities: Subject possesses a wide range of abilities, all of which are rooted in demonic or mystical energy. Notable powers include:

Soul-Self Projection: Manifestation of a shadowy, bird-like entity used for combat, transportation, and reconnaissance. This construct is capable of physical attacks, psychic assaults, and dimensional travel.

Empathy and Telepathy: Can sense, influence, and manipulate emotions. Demonstrated the ability to read my mind, despite my defences. Suggests high-level telepathic skill, potentially rivalling Martian Manhunter.

Dark Energy Manipulation: Uses arcane circles to bind or destroy enemies. Capable of neutralizing demonic entities—demonstrated proficiency in combat against multiple targets simultaneously.

Healing: Extracted 'darkness' from a physical wound on my arm, accelerating recovery. Healing properties seem tied to purification of negative energy rather than traditional biological repair.

Dimensional Portals: Created a portal directly into the Batcave using my thoughts as a reference. Indicates advanced spatial manipulation and alarming precision. Potential breach of security protocol.

Threat Assessment:

Subject's powers are immense, varied, and largely tied to emotional control. Her empathy-based abilities make her susceptible to emotional overload, which could compromise her judgment. Her connection to Trigon is a potential disaster scenario. If Trigon gains influence over her, subject could become a global—or interdimensional—threat. Recommend contingency planning, including containment strategies and countermeasures.

Psychological Profile:

Subject presents as stoic, reserved, and burdened by guilt. Displays strong moral convictions but is self-critical to a fault. Likely seeks redemption for her perceived failures. Her demeanor suggests discipline but also emotional vulnerability. Exhibits a dry sense of humor and a cautious willingness to trust. Trust must be earned.

Dissociative Idenity Disorder (DID) – Subject has mentioned another identity, Corvus who is said to be her demon form which is concerning. It appears there is only one identity inside Raven, but this could change. Subject's altar has not appeared yet but concern should be taken when interacting.

Potential as an Ally:

Subject's abilities fill gaps in our existing roster. Her expertise in dealing with mystical threats is invaluable, particularly given my lack of proficiency in that area. Subject also demonstrates independent problem-solving and tactical awareness. However, her emotional volatility and Trigon's looming presence remain significant concerns.

Conclusion:

"Raven is a powerful asset but a dangerous liability. Recommend limited integration into operations with close monitoring. Engage Zatanna or Constantine for further evaluation of mystical abilities. Contingencies for worst-case scenarios should be drafted immediately."

Bruce finishes the recording and leans back in his chair, staring at the screen. The image of Raven remains, her violet eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the Batcomputer. He mumbles to himself, "Another stray. But this one... this one could destroy us all."

He saves the file, locking it behind his most secure protocols. For now, Raven is an ally—but she'll always be a variable he keeps a close eye on, especially this Corvus identity.

__________
Here we are! Batman, Alfred and Duck have been introduced!! Hopefully no one is too out of character, sorry if they are 🫶🏻

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