Trained to take the shape of a crane

"Yes, they are very expensive," said Father Roland, the Justice League's Accountant. "These children are like my own children—"

"I think Mr. Slade won't be stingy, after all, it's for his daughter," Dead Servant said in a pretentious tone.

"----Do you two think I can't see through you?" Deathstroke said with a dark face. Years of mercenary life had given him a considerable fortune, but judging from this situation—these two bastards were probably after his Coffin.

"What are you saying?" Roland patted Nightwing. "Look at your physique."

He then showed off Nightwing's smooth hair, "And look at this fur."

Finally, he lifted Nightwing's chin, making him show his teeth, "Look at those teeth, so young."

"Is this a horse-watching contest?" Deathstroke quipped.

"Nonsense, it's clearly about watching over donkeys."

"Didn't anyone ask for my opinion?" Nightwing objected.

"I'll give you a deal you can't refuse," Deathstroke said. "This card contains my mercenary earnings from the past year. While I spent a considerable amount, it should be enough to buy several houses in Gotham City."

"Deal!" Nightwing grabbed Deathstroke's hand.

"This... is he that short of money?" Deathstroke was taken aback.

"I heard he has to do chores for Batman for a week to get five dollars in pocket money," Dead Servant said.

"Son, would you like to consider being my son?" Deathstroke's eyes darted around. "I can buy you a Lamborghini every month."

"Isn't this a bit sudden?" Nightwing was a little embarrassed. Although he had dealt with Deathstroke before, he couldn't say he was very familiar with him. He never expected to receive such a request—how presumptuous!

"It's alright, let's talk about my daughter first—" Deathstroke didn't continue the topic, "We don't get along well—"

"I think we already know that." Nightwing nodded, then thought for a moment and said, "Why are you asking me about this? Shouldn't Kara have handled it?"

"Are you serious?" Deathstroke's lips twitched. "I really don't want to talk to Floyd psychologists anymore."

"Given your family background— Floyd might be a better fit," Dead Servant suggested. "However, considering the client is my niece, I think we'd need a handsome man with big breasts and a nice butt—"

"Shut up, Wade."

"Oh."

In the end, Nightwing accepted Deathstroke's commission.

The second floor of Roland Cathedral.

The Justice League members sat in front of the television, pressing the controllers and shouting continuously.

"Hey, now we need to show some team spirit, guys!" Roy yelled at Cyborg.

"We can't regroup now, so let's all protect ourselves!" Beast Boy felt a lot of pressure.

"Go it alone or team up, let's make a decision!" Cyborg said.

"Is this really that important?" Wally, holding the handle in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. "You guys can all come at me, it's all the same anyway."

"I don't think so!" Francis stared intently at the screen, making strange noises like "Eek!" "Quack!" "Wow!"

"Guys." The Raven flew in, bringing Starfire with it.

"The sounds that Crow and I sense are threatening our young girls!" Starfire protested.

"Starfire means: We heard you arguing," the Raven translated.

The group, engrossed in the game, ignored the two's protests. Cyborg grabbed Beast Boy by the neck, "You are..."

The one with the lowest rating, I'll make you wail in my ear!

"Brother----Awooooo----" the Beast Boy kept begging for mercy, and simply transformed into a White Crane, nimbly pulling his neck out.

"Three against one and you got killed? Do you guys even know how to play?" Francis protested.

"Boys, boys, please don't fight!" Starfire stopped them.

"Yeah, just for this stupid video game?" Raven was speechless. How old were these two?

"I think that's why this Earth custom is necessary—" Starfire pulled the group together and hugged them.

"Brothers and sisters!" Nightwing burst through the door. "I've taken on a big job, and it looks like I'll need your help."

After Nightwing finished explaining Deathstroke's request, the group was somewhat puzzled. Francis asked, "This seems—it doesn't require our involvement, does it?"

"Yeah, why don't you go?" the Beast Boy said. "We can just call Kara along, that'll be enough!"

"I need your help—" Nightwing explained his plan.

"This plan sounds so familiar..." Beast Boy thought for a moment, "Isn't it a plot from some movie?"

"Indeed, it sounds quite classic." Francis nodded.

"A classic is one that has stood the test of time," Nightwing said. "Considering Deathstroke's huge sponsorship, I think this matter should be handled properly."

"I think there's absolutely no chance of your plan succeeding—it's so ridiculous." Raven's lips twitched. "But I'm still quite interested in messing with Rose Wilson."

"When are we leaving? Are we leaving now?"

"I have class later, let's wait until then."

"----Class begins?" Nightwing's lips twitched. "Are you guys really that studious?"

"Our history class is taught by Little Teacher Floyd, and I don't want to get shot," Roy said, shrugging. "If you don't want to wait for me, you can go ahead."

"What else is there to say?" Nightwing patted Roy on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll go to class with you."

In the afternoon history class, Nightwing truly witnessed the varying levels of academic achievement at Roland Cathedral.

"Cassandra, what was the starting point of World War II?"

"The traditional view holds that Germany blitzked Poland, but by then China's full-scale war of resistance against Japan had already lasted for more than two years, and Japan was clearly a member of the Axis Powers. Moreover, countries such as Austria and Czechoslovakia had already been conquered by Germany, so this is obviously inaccurate. Therefore, the book adopts a dual starting point theory, with 1937 as the starting point in Asia and 1939 as the starting point in Europe, to more comprehensively reflect the complexity of the war."

"Raynaud, what ended in 1945?"

"Uh, Teacher Floyd —I think it ended in 1944."

"Bang!"

"I don't even know what to be surprised about now," Nightwing, who was listening in, remarked. "Is it that you have Albert Einstein and a caveman sitting in this classroom at the same time, or that the teaching aids you use include a pistol?"

"I think it's pretty normal." Roy kept fiddling with his Gizmo under his desk, preparing to surprise Rose. "So, what's the point of learning all this stuff? You don't need historical knowledge in battle."

"There are still some, at least the history questions about the Hundred Years' War between England and France. If you get them terribly wrong, Jeanne d'Arc will punish you," Jason said.

"Does Jeanne d'Arc need a reason to deal with you?" Roy scoffed. "Last time you read Shakespeare— "

"Alright, shut up."

"Speaking of which, studying history is quite useful in matters of the heart; it makes you sound very classy when talking to ladies—" Nightwing began to share some of his experiences with Roy.

"Is this really necessary?" Roy looked at Nightwing's physique and face, thinking to himself, "Does this stat monster think he's got some serious skills?"

"Let's be more professional. All physical clashes start with cultural clashes."

"That makes a lot of sense," Jason nodded. "Maybe in the end I'll meet and fall in love with a girl who loves literature—she'll be like a muse, sitting in the slanting sunlight, dressed in simple clothes—what's with those expressions on your faces?"

Nightwing's eyebrows twitched, and he looked at Roy with his eyes, saying, "You also know about Artemis?"

Roy nodded, gesturing with his eyes: Of course, everyone knows except Jason himself, even the cafeteria lady and Wayne Family's kid next door know.

"We've thought of something fun," Nightwing quickly added, noticing Jason's furrowed brow.

"Anyway, your hunch was pretty accurate." Roy nodded, then muttered to himself, "She really is a goddess."

o

But not the Muse.

"Are you hiding something from me?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "Tell me the truth, or I'll have to interrogate you."

"Oh, this----"

"This--

Jason rolled his eyes at the two who were desperately trying to communicate with their eyebrows. "Alright, I'm too lazy to argue with you. I have no interest in knowing my future Destiny."

"Seriously, that scared us." Roy breathed a sigh of relief. "Jason, you're a really easygoing guy—"

"Of course." Jason smiled.

After class, Roy and the Justice League members left one by one. Jason watched their departing figures and gave a strange smile, "Heh heh----"

"Mr. Jason, you really have a bad heart." Jason's deskmate put down her book. She seemed to be listening attentively in class, but she had actually been watching Nightwing and Jason's interaction the whole time.

"They won't tell me about the future, so it's perfectly reasonable for me not to spoil their Prophecy," Jason shrugged. "But transfer student, are your Prophecy accurate?"

"Mr. Jason has already seen it in another world, hasn't he?" Traci Thirteen said. "And my presence here speaks volumes, doesn't it?"

After Flashpoint World corrected the Flash 'Traci Thirteen memories of the world, she was shared with her present self, and out of curiosity about Roland Cathedral, she transferred schools.

After all, Tracy's mother died from magic when she was young, and her father, the Doctor Thirteen, later disappeared. In addition, she knows magic, so in a way, she is similar to Harry Potter —the matter of transferring schools was naturally resolved easily.

"Okay, I believe your Prophecy." Jason shrugged.

Tracy pulled out a Tarot Cards depicting the Moon. "The high-hanging the Moon represents change and cycles, and also symbolizes confusion; the face within the Moon suggests subconscious wisdom; the dog and wolf below symbolize tamed and wild instincts, barking together at the Moon, expressing unease; and the two towers in the distance symbolize the entrance to an unknown journey."

"Tsk tsk tsk----that sounds like an ominous sign."

"Not quite, but it does represent confusion," Tracy said. "Perhaps their mission will encounter some rather uninteresting Illusion."

"That puts my mind at ease." Jason's lips curled into a smile. "Let's go, I heard they're having crayfish tonight, we need to get to the cafeteria early."

"The crayfish tonight is wasabi-flavored, I don't think you might like it, Mr. Jason."

"Oh, that's all."

An unnamed villa.

The window was shattered, glass shards were scattered all over the floor, and the body of an elderly man with white hair lay on the ground.

"Rose —we know you're here—we can smell you—we won't hurt you—"

Young Rose Wilson was running around the room, shouting, "No! Please!"

"I warned you, Rose —now you must face your father—" said a bald, pale-skinned man.

A ghoul-like creature rose up and grabbed Little Ross by the head, saying, "You know what Father looks like when he's angry."

Please! Please! No, please!

"----Last chance, Rose." The monster gripped Little Ross, its Talon rubbing against her ear. "You know what you should do, right, Rose? It's about time—it's time—you need to play a role if we can still count on one."

"Let her go, you monster!" Rose, dressed in Deathstroke's the Suit, suddenly severed the monster's hand, rescuing Little Ross.

At the same time, Nightwing's staff, Roy's arrows, Raven's tentacles, Starfire's Starbolts, and Beast Boy's Talon all descended upon the monster, pulverizing it.

"What kind of monster is it this time?" Nightwing asked.

"I don't know, it looks scary, but it's not that bad." The Raven was surrounded by dark purple Magic, and it stood on car-sized tentacles. In the moonlight, it looked more eerie and dangerous than a monster.

"But it's pretty durable; it managed to run away." Roy watched the mass of flesh run away, somewhat surprised.

"Didn't that guy just claim to be the child's father?" Nightwing noticed a blind spot.

"They're gone." Rose looked out the window, not finding the Justice League's presence at all strange, and his initial worry about their sudden appearance lessened considerably.

"They'll be back," Little Ross said, sitting on the ground. "They always come back."

Are you injured?

"It's just a small wound. It's not serious, I'll be fine."

"Let me see." Rose grabbed Little Ross's hand and examined it.

"See? It's okay. You saved me before they hurt me."

"Who are they?"

"I call him the Murderer. And the other two on the street, I call them his Slaughter Squad. Frenzy and Rage. They're all very bad, very bad people. They've been hunting me—I don't even know how long."

"Guys, it seems you've gotten yourself into some trouble." Rose said to the Justice League members, realizing something. "Superheroes, it's time for you to protect the children."