Batman stood atop the towering Wayne Tower, his right hand pressed against his belt.
A metal jar hung there. He pressed his thumb to its switch, and a tiny voice sounded inside his head.
"Dad, are we going into action?"
The voice was soft, filled with a child's anticipation.
Batman lowered his head to look at the jar in his hand. A little pink creature clung to its metal wall, barely the size of his palm. Its single eye rested against the side, blinking up at him.
It was an independent offspring of Starro, grown from cells taken from Starro's remains and fed on the nutrient solution Batman supplied.
The first thing it had learned was who gave it food.
It called him Dad.
And the second thing it had learned was who Dad's enemies were.
It had not actually learned the word "enemy" yet. But it knew Dad did not like those people.
"Dad?" The eye blinked again. "Are you scared?"
Batman's brow furrowed.
"What?"
"You're scared," the tiny voice said. "Your heart is beating faster than usual. Your hand is pressing against me, really hard. You're scared."
Batman looked down at his hand. His thumb was indeed pressing hard against the jar.
He eased his grip a little.
"I'm not scared."
"You are," the little creature insisted. "But you don't have to be. I'm here. I'll protect you. I'm your best assistant."
His best assistant...
Batman thought of Robin, then Alfred. And now this little creature was clinging to the wall of its jar, watching him with its single eye, waiting for his answer.
"You're not my assistant," Batman said.
The little creature's eye immediately dimmed.
"You're..."
He paused. What was it?
A weapon? A tool? An accident? Or...
"You're family."
The little creature's eye immediately lit up