(Friday)
It was supposed to be a quiet patrol.
No alien invasions, no world-ending crises, no sentient gorillas. Just Damian Wayne and Jon Kent taking a lap through the edge of Gotham's woods, half because Bruce told them to get fresh air and half because Alfred had physically shooed them out of the manor.
Jon hovered a few feet above the treetops, arms behind his head, eyes scanning lazily for trouble. "See anything yet?"
Damian didn't answer right away. He crouched near a patch of broken branches just off the trail, cape brushing the ground, eyes narrowed.
"...Something landed here."
Jon dropped out of the air with a thud. "Landed? Like what, a bird?"
"No bird makes a crater," Damian said, stepping carefully into the shallow depression in the earth. "It's still warm."
Jon squinted around the clearing. "Okay, yeah, but where's the-?"
"Here," Damian called. His voice had shifted-less annoyed, more focused.
Jon jogged over and saw him crouched over a strange object nestled in a bed of disturbed leaves and loose dirt. About the size of a cantaloupe, it was smooth and glossy, a soft bluish color-not unlike robin's egg blue. It didn't glow. It didn't crack. It just sat there.
"...That's an egg," Jon said blankly.
"Yes."
"A big one."
"Yes."
"A weirdly big one."
Damian picked it up gently with gloved hands, inspecting the shell. "No damage. Smooth texture. Slightly warm to the touch. It's not radioactive."
"Did you check for alien goo?" Jon leaned in.
"There is no goo," Damian snapped.
Jon folded his arms. "So, what, you think it's a new species of bird?"
"Possibly." Damian didn't sound convinced. "Or a reptile. Could be oviparous and just highly insulated."
"I mean... it's round," Jon offered. "Like really eggy."
Damian gave him a flat look. "That is not a scientific observation."
Jon grinned. "Maybe it's like those penguins that take turns keeping the egg warm. You gonna sit on it?"
Damian stood up and turned sharply. "We are taking it back to the manor for observation."
"What if it hatches into, like, a dragon?"
Damian didn't respond.
"What if it's a tiny dragon that thinks you're its mom?" Jon teased as he followed him through the woods. "What if you imprint on each other and it refuses to leave your side and you name it something ridiculous like Flapwing?"
Damian glared over his shoulder. "We're telling Father it's for a school project."
"Oh yeah," Jon said, face lighting up. "That's exactly the kind of weird stuff science teachers love."
"No mention of the crater," Damian added. "Or that it was warm. Or that it fell from the sky."
"I'm sorry-what?"
"Just carry the blanket."
Jon blinked, but obeyed.
As the two of them disappeared into the trees with the cantaloupe-sized blue egg cradled carefully between them, the woods slowly returned to silence. Wind rustled the branches. Leaves settled. And beneath the fleece wrapping and Damian's steady grip...
the egg pulsed faintly with warmth.