The first thing Bruce registered was the cold.
It seeped into his skin, biting and unrelenting, pressing against his small, unfamiliar body. His next realization was that he could not move the way he wanted. His limbs, short, pudgy, weak and refused to respond with the precision he expected. Panic flickered in his mind as he struggled, but his efforts only resulted in a pathetic whimper.
Beside him, shifting against his bare skin, others stirred. Small, warm bodies pressed close together, sharing a desperate, instinctual need for comfort in the chill. The sounds of soft grunts and whines joined his own, accompanied by an occasional frustrated squeak. Someone with a familiar presence attempted to shift with purpose, but like Bruce, they failed.
Damian.
Bruce knew his youngest son well enough to recognize the sheer will behind the movements. Even stripped of their former forms, Damian's stubbornness remained unchanged.
The air smelled foul. Rotting food. Dampness. Metal. A weak cry high-pitched, distressed pierced the thick darkness. Dick. His distress sent ripples through the rest of them. Tim’s body tensed, his breath hitching in tiny, uneven puffs. Jason, usually the last to reveal any sign of weakness, let out a small whimper, barely audible but undeniably there.
Rain began to fall.
A droplet struck Bruce’s cheek, startling in its iciness. More followed, pattering against their soft, exposed skin. The cold intensified. A shudder ran through the group as they huddled closer, but it did little to protect them.
A louder noise broke through the quiet, something shifting just beyond their reach. Their limited vision, hindered by underdeveloped eyesight, could barely make sense of the shadows around them. Shapes blurred and wavered, but nothing made sense. Their only certainty came from the surface beneath them hard, unyielding, and surrounded by high walls.
A container? A box? No.
A dumpster.
Realization settled over them with silent horror. A rustle of movement above drew their attention. A presence. The faintest outline of a winged shape perched at the edge of the dumpster.
A crow. It made a noise a harsh, echoing caw that cut through the downpour. Then, a voice.
"Void."
The word was spoken low, almost conversational, but there was an unmistakable edge of irritation. The voice came closer, accompanied by the faintest glow of something rectangular, an object in the figure’s hand, casting a dull light against the rain-slicked alley.
Bruce struggled to focus, to make sense of the figure. Their vision, still adjusting, caught glimpses of movement, but the darkness and their underdeveloped eyes made details elusive. What they could see was that the man wore black, his form blending too well into the shadows but one thing he could see clearly was the man's clear green eyes. The strange object in his hand reflected his face for a brief moment, but it was too warped by the light for them to fully understand.
The man muttered something under his breath. "Late again. Figures." Void (the crow) cawed again, flapping its wings in apparent agitation.
"I don’t have time for this," the man snapped, running a hand through his wet hair. "Gotham’s full of orphanages. I’ll drop them off at the closest one –"
Void shrieked, cutting him off, a gust of wind stirred as the crow flapped its wings, clearly displeased.
The man exhaled through his nose, shoulders dropping. "Fine," he muttered. Another ping from his strange device, he glanced down, expression shifting slightly before shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I get it."
With a flick of his wrist, something changed. Fabric appeared where there had been none, draping over the small, shivering bodies of the bat-babies. The soft material was warm, a shocking contrast against the cold that had gripped them moments ago.
Then, a larger shape materialized a carrier, sturdy yet impossibly lightweight, designed to hold all of them securely, the bat-babies, though unable to express it fully, reacted in different ways.
Dick, still sniffling, relaxed slightly at the warmth. Jason wriggled, instinctively testing the fabric’s durability. Tim, ever the observer, blinked slowly, trying to process what had just occurred. Damian scowled or at least, his attempt at a scowl, his tiny fingers curling into fists at the lack of control over the situation.
Bruce, nestled among them, remained alert, mind racing even as his body failed him. Magic. There was no other explanation for what he had just witnessed.
The man, whoever he was, lifted the carrier with ease.
"Let’s get this over with," he muttered, stepping out of the alley and into the night.
The man was still looking at a mirror when something flashed across the screen. His entire body tensed.
One second, he was standing still. The next, he was gone, nothing but a blur as he shot forward, floating above the ground. The carrier lifted with him, gliding through the air as if weightless. Void let out a pleased caw and flapped excitedly, circling the man as he sped through the rain.
The batbabies could do nothing but watch.
Dark alleys passed by in a blur. Cold air pressed against them. Everything was happening too fast.
The man suddenly dipped, eyes locking onto something ahead. A manhole. He reached out with one hand and lifted it effortlessly, tossing it aside before diving in. The carrier followed, descending into the darkness.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of wind rushing past. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the man threw the mirror forward.
A scythe appeared in his grip.
His fingers tightened around the handle, knuckles white. His lips moved, a frantic whisper, the words barely audible. "Please work this time."
The batbabies barely had time to react before he swung.
The blade cut through the mirror, but instead of breaking, the surface rippled like liquid. The space around them twisted. A sudden force pulled them forward, and in the next moment, everything disappeared.
They were falling.
(Mafia Planet’s)
The sky above them was no longer dark and rainy. It was red, filled with thick clouds of smoke. The air smelled like ash, burning metal, and blood. Below them, a battlefield
stretched far into the distance. Fires burned through what looked like an old city. Strange, ant-like creatures swarmed the streets, attacking anyone in sight.
The carrier was still floating, but now it was drifting down toward the battle. A voice rang out, cutting through the chaos.
"Harry!"
The batbabies froze, they finally have a name to a face.
They finally saw him clearly now too. His hair was long, dark like raven feathers, whipping around his face as he flew. His clothes were torn, the black leather and chains stained with blood. Glowing tattoos stretched up his arms, pulsing with eerie light as he moved. A scythe flashed in his grip, cutting through the ant creatures with terrifying ease.
Another figure moved through the battlefield, fast and brutal. A whip snapped through the air, slicing through chitinous exoskeletons. A snake lunged, its fangs sinking deep into one of the creatures before twisting and tearing it apart. The man fighting beside Harry was powerful, precise, every movement controlled.
"Rejected for their usefulness, huh?" Harry shouted over the battle, swinging his scythe in a wide arc. Three ants collapsed at once. "I told you these things would have been good soldiers!"
"Not because of that," the other man called back. His voice was smooth but edged with irritation. "It was the trafficking. Their leaders refused to deal with it."
The batbabies watched as the two fought side by side. They had never seen fighting like this. Harry fought like a storm, wild and unpredictable. His movements were almost reckless, but each strike landed with deadly precision. The other man was the opposite. He was calculated, striking only when necessary, each attack meant to kill in the most efficient way.
The carrier floated just out of reach, hovering as the battle continued. Then Harry turned, distracted for just a second. That was all it took.
The carrier jerked forward, pulled by the whip. The batbabies let out small noises of surprise, their tiny hands gripping at the soft fabric around them as they were dragged closer. A snake lunged past them, its gleaming fangs sinking deep into one of the ant creatures. With a sickening crunch, the creature was torn apart, and then, finally, the batbabies got their first real look at the second man.
His face was sharp, almost too perfect, like it had been carved from marble. His skin was pale, smooth but with faint scars along his throat. His red eyes burned like embers, slitted slightly in the dim battlefield light, giving him an almost inhuman intensity.
Dark brown hair, nearly black, was slicked back, though strands had come loose from the fight, framing his face in a way that made him look effortlessly elegant. He was dressed in sleek black robes, lined with subtle silver embroidery that shimmered faintly with enchantments. A deep crimson cloak billowed behind him, its fabric heavy and regal, fastened with a silver serpent clasp at his throat.
"Babies," he said, voice flat.
The batbabies stared back.
Blood streaked across his cheek, a smear of deep red against his pale skin.
Dick let out a tiny, awed coo. His little hands clenched into fists, his round baby cheeks turning pink. The others looked at him in immediate betrayal. Jason’s tiny face scrunched into a scowl, Tim let out a slow, suffering sigh, and Damian looked outright offended.
The man did not notice. He was already turning toward Harry, face contorted in rage. "Babies!?"
Harry, still mid-swing, groaned loudly. "Tom!" he yelled back, sounding completely done.
Tom's face contorted in rage. "Babies!?"
Harry dodged an incoming ant, then slashed through another. "They are not mine!" he shouted.
Tom was not listening. "How irresponsible can you be!" he shouted back, his whip snapping through the air, slicing clean through two creatures at once. "Do you understand the commitment it takes to raise a child! You cannot just –"
"I know!" Harry snapped, blocking an attack and kicking a creature back. "They are not mine, you idiot!"
Their shouting only grew louder, their voices rising over the chaos of the battle as they continued fighting, neither willing to back down.
The batbabies just stared.
They had no idea what was happening anymore.
The battlefield was settling, but the tension remained thick in the air. The last remnants of ant corpses were already being secured for transfer some to medical research labs, others to military dissection sites.
Tom stood at the center of it all, issuing orders with precise efficiency.
"All recovered specimens are to be shipped directly to the research division for analysis," he commanded, his red eyes glowing with calculated intent. "I want a full report on how these creatures bypassed our defenses. Gatekeeper logs, border surveillance, every intercepted transmission. If any contraband ships were responsible for their transport, find them."
A Gatekeeper captain, clad in the signature black and crimson uniform, stepped forward and saluted sharply.
"We’ve already found the ships," the officer reported. "Two vessels managed to breach Gatekeeper-registered borders without detection. The encryption masking their presence was unlike anything we’ve encountered before. We suspect external assistance possibly an advanced cloaking mechanism or forbidden magic."
Tom’s expression darkened. He already had suspicions.
"Get me those ships intact," he ordered. "I want every scrap of information pulled from their systems. If we find out who authorized this breach, they’ll wish they died with the rest of the ants."
"Understood," the officer said before stepping away to relay orders.
Tom let out a slow breath, already exhausted.
A wild Kyoya Hibari attacked.
Tom didn’t even blink.
His whip lashed out faster than human perception, the dark coils snaring around Kyoya’s throat in a single, fluid motion.
There was a sharp jerk, and suddenly Kyoya was lifted slightly off the ground, his air supply cut off without ceremony.
Tom still didn’t even look at him.
"I," Tom exhaled, tone dripping with exhaustion, "am so incredibly done with this planet."
Kyoya struggled against the whip, his teeth gritted in defiance, but no one reacted.
This had happened too many times for anyone to care.
Gatekeepers continued their work. Mafia planet enforcers didn’t so much as blink. Other mafia leaders present for the clean-up ignored it entirely.
Harry, who was crouched near the carrier, checking the batbabies for injuries, barely glanced up.
"Let me guess," Harry muttered as he secured the blankets around the infants, making sure they were warm after the cold rainstorm earlier. "Hibari again?"
"Who else?" Tom drawled, deadpan, as Kyoya furiously kicked against the whip, his tonfa still clenched in his grasp.
Harry didn’t even react. He just kept working, checking each batbaby with swift efficiency.
No broken bones.
No major wounds.
A little cold, but nothing life-threatening.
Satisfied, Harry was about to close the carrier when Dick started squirming.
Dick lifted his tiny arms toward Tom.
"…You have got to be kidding me," Harry muttered.
The other batbabies froze.
Jason’s tiny fists clenched. Tim looked mildly betrayed. Damian glared daggers at Dick. Even Bruce exhaled sharply, as if already over this nonsense.
But Dick, oblivious to the silent outrage of his brothers, wriggled in place, making tiny, insistent noises.\
Tom finally turned his head, eye twitching slightly as he stared down at the infant reaching for him.
"Harry," Tom said slowly.
"Yeah?"
"Control your offspring."
Harry smirked. "Not mine, remember?"
Tom’s jaw clenched.
Dick, still reaching, made a soft, determined noise pure, innocent trust in his big blue eyes.
Harry, barely holding in laughter, watched as Tom processed his new reality.
Kyoya, still dangling from the whip, started choking out insults again.
Tom turned his back to the carrier, ignoring the outstretched arms of the small, wriggling infant still reaching for him.
Dick made a tiny noise, soft but unmistakably distressed a wobbly baby sound dangerously close to crying.
Tom ignored that, too. At least, he tried to.
Because, of course, Dazai had to open his stupid mouth.
"My, my," Dazai Osamu foolish self, drawled, stepping forward with an easy smirk, hands tucked lazily into the pockets of his coat. "Did the all-powerful heir to the Red Queen Sector just make a baby cry?"
Tom twitched.
Mukuro Rokudo, standing beside him, grinned, twirling his trident in one hand. "Oh? How cruel," he mused, his mismatched eyes glinting with amusement. "Ignoring such a tiny, helpless creature. I wonder how Evira would feel about this?"
Tom’s entire body went rigid.
That was not a name they should be throwing around so casually.
Dazai, sensing blood in the water, continued effortlessly. "She’s so busy, you know? Holding the entire sector together, running an empire, solving problems you couldn’t even comprehend…" He tilted his head, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Imagine if she heard her beloved son was out here, being so heartless to a poor, defenseless little baby."
Tom’s fingers twitched violently at his sides.
Mukuro leaned in, smirk widening. "She’d be so disappointed, wouldn’t she?"
A few other Mafia Planet leaders, enforcers, and informants, who were all too familiar with Tom’s relationship with Evira began chuckling, whispering, and throwing in their own remarks.
"I can’t believe it Tom Hellsubus, ignoring a baby?"
"He’s so cold. Look at the little thing, reaching for him!"
"Evira would never forgive this."
"He’s shaking. Is that rage or is he considering murder?"
Tom was, in fact shaking. And whether it was from pure unfiltered rage or the overwhelming urge to strangle every single person present, no one could tell.
But by the time he turned back (probably to kill someone)
Harry was already holding Dick.
The carrier was now floating lazily beside him, while Dick had happily wormed his way into Harry’s arms.
Tom’s eye twitched so violently he nearly broke reality itself.
Harry, of course, was grinning like the smug bastard he was. "Oh, would you look at that," he drawled. "Guess he really wanted attention, huh?"
Dick, now secured in Tom’s arms, giggled happily, tiny fingers clenching onto Tom’s expensive, enchanted robes.
Tom looked down at the little traitor, his red eyes narrowing dangerously.
Dick gurgled up at him, utterly unbothered.
Tom inhaled deeply, suppressing every violent urge in his body.
A new voice cut through the chaos.
"So, Harry…"
Harry, already sighing, didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.
Reborn.
The adult arcobaleno hitman himself, standing casually with his fedora tilted forward, sharp golden eyes filled with nothing but calculated amusement.
"....which one of you got knocked up?" Reborn asked flatly.
Harry choked.
The Mafia erupted into new waves of laughter.
"You know, I was just about to ask that!" someone else chimed in.
"How did you get someone pregnant?"
"And why do you have five of them?"
"You’re always disappearing. Maybe you did have a secret lover?"
"Oh my fucking god," Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Tom, still holding Dick, was watching all of this unfold with the face of a man rapidly losing faith in existence itself.
"Do you see what you’ve done?" Tom muttered under his breath.
Harry ignored him because someone else decided to join in.
"Well," another Mafia boss mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "They do have black hair and blue eyes…"
Harry’s head snapped up so fast he nearly broke his neck.
"Oh, fuck off!" he snapped.
Reborn smirked. "I did notice you’ve been gone from the sector for a while," he said smoothly. "Plenty of time to…..how should I put it —"
"Don’t. Even."
"— spread your legacy?"
The Mafia laughed harder.
The Gatekeepers were clearly amused.
Mukuro barely contained his grin.
Even Tom looked like he was suffering.
Dick was completely content, clinging to Tom’s robes, utterly oblivious to the absolute disaster this had become.
The laughter was still going strong. The mafia leaders, enforcers, and informants were thoroughly enjoying themselves, Harry looked murderous.
Tom finally snapped.
"Enough."
The entire battlefield went silent.
The sheer force of Tom’s voice, dripping with absolute authority and fury, sent a ripple of unease through the crowd.
Kyoya Hibari, still dangling in midair by Tom’s whip, finally felt the pressure release his feet hitting the ground hard as the coils of magic unwound from his throat.
Kyoya stumbled, coughed then immediately lunged to attack again.
Tom didn’t even look at him, the whip lashed out once more, slamming into Kyoya’s chest just hard enough to send him skidding backward into the dirt.
"I said enough."
Kyoya, despite his absolute love for violence, finally relented (for now).
The batbabies, however, were startled.
Dick blinked up at Tom, wide-eyed but unharmed.
Jason scowled at the loud noise.
Tim squinted, processing the shift in power dynamics.
Damian looked outright impressed.
Bruce just exhaled sharply, clearly over this bullshit.
With the chaos momentarily settled, Tom turned his attention to the three mafia bosses standing before him. "Now that we are done with whatever that nonsense was," Tom exhaled, rubbing his temple, "can we get back to business?"
Xanxus (Vongola Decimo representative), Chūya Nakahara (Port Mafia), and Ryuugamine Mikado (leader of the Dollars) all regarded him coolly.
Tom did not bother with pleasantries.
"As I have asked you before," Tom started, tone exhausted, "is there anything, anything at all that would convince your organizations to separate and take your business to different planets?"
It was a question that had been asked hundreds of times before.
And, as expected, all three bosses gave the same answer.
"No."
Tom’s eye twitched.
Xanxus, arms crossed, scoffed. "If I wanted to move, I’d have done it already."
Chūya rolled his eyes. "The Port Mafia has been based here for too long to relocate."
Mikado smiled faintly. "The Dollars work best in chaos. What better place than Mafia Planet?"
Tom sighed heavily, shaking his head. "And yet, I keep receiving reports…" His voice was dripping in sarcasm now. "...about destruction, chaos, border skirmishes, citywide warfare, broken treaties, stolen cargo, illegal trade, and absolute anarchy that keeps happening on this planet."
Jason let out a tiny grunt of approval, almost like he agreed.
Damian gave a sharp nod, as if recognizing true leadership.
Tim blinked slowly, already absorbing Tom’s political tactics.
Dick was still content in Tom’s arms, kicking his tiny legs.
Bruce was simply tired.
"I do not understand," Tom continued dryly, "why with all the resources available now, you all insist on staying group together."
Before the mafia bosses could give their usual excuses, Harry huffed loudly.
"Alright, how about this?" Harry cut in, adjusting his grip on the floating baby carrier. "I’ll sweeten the deal."
The bosses raised an eyebrow.
Harry smirked, knowing he had their attention now.
"Each group gets their own undead army," Harry offered smoothly. "No strings attached. Just relocate, and you get your own forces tailored to your needs."
The silence stretched.
Xanxus glanced at Chūya. Chūya glanced at Mikado.
Then, all three bosses shrugged.
"No."
Harry groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face.
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course."
The batbabies, entirely too entertained by the failure of adult diplomacy, had mixed reactions.
Dick just cooed happily, still clinging to Tom.
Jason kicked his feet, like he was imagining a fight breaking out.
Tim furrowed his tiny brows, as if mentally cataloging these events.
Damian looked outright insulted on Tom’s behalf.
Bruce… Bruce just looked even more tired.
"Maybe we should test for paternity," someone suggested lazily, purely to mess with Harry even more.
That was it.
Harry was fucking done. He grabbed his multi-level phone mirror and threw it into the air.
A slash of his scythe cut through the mirror’s surface, and the world immediately twisted, Reality fractured into a swirling void of magic and darkness.
The batbabies, the carrier, and Tom were instantly dragged inside.
"Oh, for fuck’s sake —" Tom’s voice cut off as they disappeared.
The mafia leaders, enforcers, and informants watched as the portal swallowed them whole.
Silence
Dazai smirked, sipping from a stolen drink. "…So, was that a yes or a no on the paternity test?"
The Mafia Planet erupted into laughter again.