Chapter Text
The cuffs were too tight.
Metal bites into raw skin with every twitch. Limbs ached against the unyielding floor, bruises blooming beneath torn fabric. The cold floor seeped into achy limbs. Every breath dragged heavy through the thick, suffocating air, laced with something that made their skin itch. A single bulb flickered overhead, its sickly light creating jagged shadows on the walls. Sweat, rust, and a faint acrid odor filled the room.
A circle of battered teenagers sat bound together, some groaning, others murmuring under their breath—clothes tattered, dirt streaked across their faces—each one looking as if they had been through hell.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Somewhere, water fell in slow, rhythmic beats, a cruel metronome to their silence. A chair creaked. Footsteps, measured and deliberate, circled them like a predator sizing up wounded prey.
“Let’s try this again.” The voice was smooth, calm—too calm. A calculated kind of patience, the kind that suggested they had all the time in the world. "Let's start from the beginning."
"How exactly did all of you end up here?"
Silence. Thick. Unyielding.
"It's a long story,” one finally murmured, voice rough from disuse—or something else.
“Where do we even start?” another muttered, shifting just enough for metal to clank against the floor.
A breath hitched. A glance flickered, fleeting yet heavy.
Someone swallowed hard, the sound deafening in the silence.
Then—
“Well…”
It was supposed to be a normal weekend—mundane, peaceful, the kind where the worst thing anyone had to worry about was a sunburn. A classic summer’s day. Birds chirped lazily in the trees, flowers swayed under the warm breeze, and the bees... Well, the bees were—how do we say this?
People sprawled across picnic blankets, chatting, basking in the sunlight without a care in the world. Children chased each other through the grass, their laughter ringing through the air. No one noticed the faint hum at first. It was subtle, almost like distant static, threading through the gentle rustling of the leaves.
BZZZZZZZZZZZT.
A lone bee hovered too close, circling lazily at first—just an idle nuisance. A woman swatted at it, barely paying attention. A man beside her flinched as it zipped past his ear. Someone chuckled.
Then the buzzing deepened. More joined in.
BZZZZZZT. BZZZT. BZZZZZZZZZZ.
The sound layered over itself, multiplying, swelling into a deafening hum.
A piercing scream shattered the peace.
“AHHH!!!”
Panic erupted in an instant. People bolted from their spots, knocking over drinks and baskets, their movements frantic and disoriented. A dark, writhing mass pulsed through the sky, shifting like a living storm cloud. The sound was suffocating—a relentless, furious drone that rattled in their skulls. The swarm moved with terrifying purpose, wings beating in unison like the drumming of war.
The bees weren’t just agitated. They were attacking.
No, the bees were trying to kill them.
Yeah. So. That was definitely not the peaceful, lazy summer vibe they were hoping for.
The plan had been simple: handle a few small missions—save a cat from a tree, stop a couple of robberies, maybe break up a street fight—steal a bag of chips—dumpster dive even—then call it a day. Easy, right? But then, this happened.
Because, of course, it did.
With Young Justice—or "Young Just Us," whatever you want to call ‘em—things always started light. With things the Justice League would brush off, somehow, it all ended up in their laps. One minute, they’re dealing with a jaywalker. The next? Boom—citywide catastrophe.
And today? A whole colony of bees had turned evil. Like usual. Like it's an average Tuesday.
Yup.
Anyway, time to get moving.
The team scattered. A blur of movement, bursts of color, and figures darting in all directions. Some flew into the sky, others vanished in a flash, and one sped through the chaos, scooping up civilians before disappearing again. A crack of energy, the flicker of a golden lasso, and the sharp thwack of a staff cutting through the air—all move in their own chaotic but practiced rhythm.
Despite their best efforts, the swarm continued to follow. The battle was already underway.
"Wonder Girl, left flank!" Robin called out, twisting his bo staff to swat away another swarm of bees. His movements were sharp and controlled, with each step calculated.
Tim Drake—Robin—was already filtering out distractions, his eyes scanning their surroundings. The bees were not acting based on instinct. Their movements were too coordinated and deliberate. This wasn't some random attack. Someone was keeping them under control. He simply needed to figure out how.
"Ouch! Ouch! "They keep poking me!"
Tim clenched his jaw. Superboy.
Conner Kent—Kon-El—whatever, just Kon—flinched back from the swarm, wildly swatting at the air even though the bees couldn’t actually hurt him.
“Pack it up, Metropolis kid,” Cassie Sandsmark—Wonder Girl, bless her—snapped, shaking a bee off her arm with practiced ease. “You’re the only other person here who’s immune! Maybe try dealing with them with a little more finesse?”
Kon flailed wildly, his voice muffled beneath the swarm of bees completely covering his face. “Mmf—I'm trying—gah! They won’t stop annoying–mmf—me! ”
He stumbled back, swiping at them uselessly, only for the bees to ricochet off his skin like tiny, angry ping-pong balls.
Still grumbling, he finally engaged his tactile telekinesis, a controlled burst of force rippling off his skin. The bees scattered instantly, their tight formations breaking apart as they were flung away. Some suddenly fall into the ground. Wait, were those mechanical bees that just dropped to the ground?
Tim took note of that. Whatever was controlling them, it wasn’t strong enough to override sudden displacement as well as keep the robot bee's information for later use. That was something.
“Gosh, these things are everywhere.” Tim barely flinched as a bee zipped too close to his face. He rolled aside, flicking a small disc from his belt and sending it sailing through the air. It landed with a soft clink, then emitted a high-pitched frequency.
The nearest swarm shuddered, faltering midair. A temporary disruption, but enough to buy him time.
He adjusted his HUD, filtering through the interference. If someone was controlling the bees, they were using a signal. A frequency, a transmitter—something. He just had to—
“Thanks for the play-by, Rob!" A blur of red and white shot past him. Bart Allen—Impulse—skidded to a stop, shaking off a few bees before splitting into three speed scouts.
“Man, this is ridiculous,” one Bart complained.
“Right? This is, like, a million times worse than normal bugs,” another added, batting at the air.
The real Bart zipped forward, snatching a civilian from the swarm before Tim could process the movement. A gust of wind followed in his wake, disorienting even more bees.
Tim barely spared him a glance, already zeroing in on the strongest signal. There—a subtle, pulsing frequency buried beneath the chaos. It was coming from—
“Kon!”
“Ugh, I’m trying! But they’re just so annoying!”
“You could say they’re buzzing you.”
Tim didn’t even need to look to know Bart was grinning.
"HAH! High-five, anyone?" Bart beamed, holding up his hand expectantly.
Silence. Bart's foot had been vibrating with jitteriness.
Nobody acknowledged it.
"No takers? Alright, tough crowd.”
With a blur of motion, a speed clone appeared beside him, mirroring his stance. They slapped their hands together with a loud smack!
"Nice one, me! You always have my back," Bart said, pointing finger guns at his speed scout, who returned the gesture before vanishing in a flash.
He glanced around at the unimpressed faces.
“Geez, alright! I get it. I'll just... see myself out then." With that, he zipped away—only to reappear a second later as if nothing had happened.
Cassie rolled her eyes as she sent another hive of bees away with a shockwave through crackling fists.
Tim exhaled. This was going to be a long day. But at least now, he had something to work with.
Imp had evacuated nearly a dozen civilians in less than a minute, barely breaking a sweat. Thank the Speed Force for small mercies. Cassie, meanwhile, was holding the line with practiced ease, smashing through bees with controlled, precise strikes—nothing wasted, nothing excessive. If one got too close, her bracers flashed, sending crackling energy through its tiny body and stunning it midair.
And then there was Kon.
Superboy stood there, half-heartedly swatting at the bees, his expression torn between annoyance and boredom. They couldn't hurt him, so he clearly didn’t see the point of trying, Being the total diva that he is—
“I heard that!” he grumbled, even though no one had said anything—cough coug—
“Then do your job instead of just standing there looking pretty, lover boy!” Cassie shot back, barely sparing him a glance as she sent another bee flying with a sharp flick of her wrist.
Kon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it.”
Instead of swatting aimlessly, he finally engaged his tactile telekinesis, sending out short, controlled pulses to knock the bees away without crushing them outright. It wasn’t much, but at least it kept them at a distance.
“You sure you don’t have some bug spray in that utility belt of yours, Rob?” Kon asked, ducking a particularly persistent bee. “Because these guys are seriously bugging me—heh, pun—”
Tim didn’t even look at him. “We’re not here to kill the bees. Only the robots disguised as ones.”
Cassie threw him a sharp look. “Yeah, and we’re here to figure out what's making them hostile in the first place—and stop it.”
“Ugh, fine,” Kon muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Now get back to work and help Imp save civilians, Boy Scout-Lite,” Cassie shot back.
“Aye aye, gotcha, babe," Kon quipped, doing a mock salute and winking before vanishing in a blur of superspeed.
“Ugh. Boys.”
Tim barely registered the conversation. He was already tuning out the noise, tracking the unusual frequency beneath the chaos. Something was broadcasting—subtle, but just strong enough to—
There. A pulsing transmission buried under the usual city signals. It wasn’t natural. And whoever was behind it? They were watching them right now.
Where are they—
A golden blur sliced through the air, carving a path straight through the swarm. Dozens of bees scattered in every direction as Empress landed in a crouch, twin blades already flashing. Before the insects could regroup, she vanished in another blink of gold, reappearing twenty feet away to slice another cluster apart.
Right behind her, curling mist spilled through the battlefield like a living tide.
It weaved effortlessly between panicked civilians, wrapping around terrified families before whisking them out of the swarm and depositing them safely behind a police barricade. A little girl blinked in confusion as the fog receded, revealing Secret hovering several feet above the ground.
"Gosh, I didn't even know San Fran had this many bees." Anita Fite—Empress—ducked beneath another wave, flicking one blade into a mechanical bee before teleporting after it to catch the ricochet with her second. Sparks showered across the pavement. "Seriously," she huffed, blinking behind another civilian to intercept a dive-bombing swarm.
"We had to stop a bank robbery on the way here. A bank robbery. In broad daylight! With actual cops right there!" Greta Heyes—Secret—caught an elderly couple in another swirl of mist before gently setting them beside an ambulance. “Like, at least pretend to have shame," she pouted, dissolving into vapor just as a swarm flew harmlessly through where she'd been.
Cassie barked out a laugh as Anita blinked past her shoulder, nearly taking her ponytail with her.
"You guys really know how to make an entrance."
She swung her lasso in a blazing arc, golden sparks crackling through a cluster of robot bees before snapping it back around her waist. Without missing a beat, she drove her fist into another swarm. "Way better than Boy of Steel over here."
"Hey! Ouch!" Kon swatted another handful away as they bounced uselessly off his face. One particularly stubborn bee ricocheted off his forehead. "...Okay, that one's just insulting."
"It would've been sooner," Anita shot back, appearing atop a nearby traffic light before launching herself into another teleport, "if some guy in a ski mask hadn't decided today was the perfect time to test his luck."
She reappeared upside down above the swarm, buried a blade through two robotic bees in one motion, then blinked back onto solid ground. "And seriously? Of all days?"
Kon shoved out a telekinetic pulse, sending hundreds of bees tumbling backward like leaves caught in a gust. "Maybe he thought the bees were a good distraction."
Greta floated lazily beside a collapsing street sign, phasing through it before catching it in another cloud of mist and lowering it safely away from the crowd. "If that was his plan," she mused, "he's even dumber than the guy I phased through a vault last week."
A red-and-white blur exploded between them. Bart skidded across the asphalt, sneakers smoking as three speed scouts peeled away from him in different directions, each scooping up civilians before another wave could descend. "Okay, okay—but hear me out!" he shouted while weaving through the swarm. "What if the robber was actually a distraction..."
One scout pointed dramatically toward the sky. "...for the bees?"
Another scout gasped. "Dun dun duuun!"
Anita sliced another robot bee in half mid-teleport and gave Bart the flattest look imaginable. "...You've been hanging around SB too much."
Kon looked genuinely offended. "Wow." He blasted another telekinetic wave through the swarm. "That was uncalled for," he continued.
Bart zipped backward, grinning. "I wish I was kidding! The universe's been weirder. Remember when we all turned into apes—"
"I already know who's responsible." Tim's voice cut cleanly through the chaos. He never looked up from his scanner. The others did.
Cassie caught another bee on the end of her lasso before slamming it into the pavement. "So what's the strat?"
Tim's eyes remained fixed on the shifting readings scrolling across his HUD. Around him, bees repeatedly dove toward the group, only to ricochet off Kon's telekinetic pulses or disappear beneath Anita's flashing blades before they ever reached him. "There's a transmitter nearby," Tim said, sidestepping another swarm without even looking. "A control point. Break it..." His fingers danced across the scanner as another pulse lit the display. "...and we break their hold over the swarm."
Greta drifted over his shoulder, mist lazily curling around a handful of trapped civilians before carrying them away. "You sure?"
"Positive."
Another pulse. Closer this time.
Anita caught one of her returning blades, twirling it once before settling into a ready stance. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Anita caught one of her returning blades, twirling it once between her fingers before sending it spinning back into the swarm. It carved through a cluster of robotic bees in a shower of sparks before she blinked after it in a flash of gold.
"So what?" she called, reappearing atop a wrecked bus shelter. "We knock out the control point, and boom—problem solved?"
Tim ducked beneath a diving swarm without looking up from the scanner mounted to his gauntlet. "Essentially," he replied, fingers flying across the display. "Assuming nothing else complicates things."
"When has anything not complicated things?"
"Great. Because I, for one, would like to not spend my day playing dodge-the-stinger."
To emphasize her point, she vanished in a blink, reappearing a second later behind Cassie, just as a wave of bees lunged at where she'd just been. She cut a quick arc through the air, slicing down two artificial-looking bees with sharp precision before teleporting above the swarm to get a better vantage point.
Cassie barely flinched, already used to Anita’s split-second jumps. "Could’ve warned me, Empress."
"Where’s the fun in that?" Anita smirked before vanishing again, cutting through another section of the swarm before reappearing near Tim.
A thick ribbon of mist swept between a panicked family and the advancing swarm, gently lifting them off the pavement before depositing them behind a line of squad cars.
A cluster of bees passed harmlessly through Greta's chest before circling back toward a pair of fleeing civilians. She dissolved into mist, engulfing the children and carrying them safely across the street before reforming beside Tim.
She watched one of the mechanical bees bounce uselessly off Kon's shoulder before reaching out to catch another. It slipped straight through her open palm without so much as slowing. "...You know," she mused, tilting her head, "I don't think they can sting me."
Tim adjusted another frequency on his scanner, eyes fixed on the flickering display. "They probably can't."
Greta frowned thoughtfully at the swarm overhead, tapping a finger against her chin. "...Could I try scaring them?"
Tim barely spared her a glance. "I don't think fear works on robots, Secret."
"Oh." She considered that for all of two seconds, stretching her fingers idly through the drifting mist. "...Then maybe I could just... eat one?"
Kon, who had finally stopped swatting at the air like a disgruntled cat long enough to blast another wave of bees away with a telekinetic pulse, froze mid-motion. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope. That's way too weird, even for us."
She blinked innocently. "It was just a question."
Bart zipped between a collapsing street vendor's cart and a fresh wave of bees, scooping up the vendor before the insects reached him. He doubled back so quickly the gust scattered another cluster into Kon's waiting telekinetic field. One of his speed scouts skidded to a stop beside them, eyes widening dramatically. "Wait. Wait. Wait. What if we let her try? Just to see what happens?" He fluttered his eyelashes for good measure. "Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"
Cassie, halfway through punching a robotic bee clean out of the air, snapped her head toward him. "We are not feeding Secret a hive's worth of bees. Or robots. Or robot bees."
"Pfft. Cowards," another Bart muttered, already vanishing before Cassie could lasso him.
Anita blinked back into existence beside Tim, wiping a streak of machine oil from one blade before sending it spinning back into the swarm. "Why is this a conversation we're having?"
Tim, deadpan, didn't even look up. "Welcome to my life. Would you like a pamphlet to accompany it?"
Greta, meanwhile, had drifted another few feet closer to the buzzing swarm, studying them with the kind of thoughtful curiosity that never boded well for anyone involved. "Okay, but hypothetically—"
"Secret. No."
"Secret. Yes."
The entire team—excluding Bart—spoke at once.
Silence.
Slowly, everyone turned toward the lone dissenter.
Bart, halfway through depositing another rescued civilian behind a police cruiser, looked up as every eye landed on him.
"...What?"
Cassie pointed at him with her lasso. "You are part of the problem."
Bart offered an entirely unapologetic grin before dissolving into another blur of red and white.
Greta sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. "You guys are no fun."
Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh, this was definitely shaping up to be a disaster.
Still, disaster or not, they needed to wrap this up. Every second they spent entertaining Secret's increasingly concerning ideas was another second the real threat remained hidden. He flicked through the distorted signals again. The interference was strong—whoever was behind this knew how to bury their transmission beneath the city's communications grid.
But not well enough. He was close.
“Alright, focus,” Tim cut in, snapping everyone back to the mission. “The control point is nearby, and if we—”
A sharp burst of static crackled through his comms, slicing through his sentence. It lasted barely a second. Just long enough to tell him someone else was on the frequency. Just long enough to tell him they'd been found.
Tim's head snapped up. His gaze swept across the surrounding rooftops, instinct carrying him before his thoughts could catch up. Then came that familiar sensation—the prickling awareness of eyes on the back of his neck.
Someone was watching. His grip tightened around his bo staff.
There.
Perched atop a nearby rooftop, framed against the afternoon sky, stood a woman draped in gold. A cape stirred lazily behind her, the polished crown upon her head catching the sunlight as though it had been made for it.
“Well,” Tim muttered. “Speak of the devil.”
The woman's smile deepened. “Looking for me, little bird?”
Kon groaned, already sounding exhausted. “Oh, great. Another one.”
Cassie rolled her shoulders, her lasso crackling to life in her hands. “Took you long enough.”
Bart zipped to Tim's side, practically vibrating in place. “Do villains actually practice these entrances? Because there's no way that's spontaneous.”
Anita didn't even look up from the bee she'd just split cleanly in half. “They all do, Imp. It's practically a requirement.”
Greta folded her arms, eyeing the woman thoughtfully. “She looks like she's about to gloat.”
The woman laughed—a smooth, amused sound that carried surprisingly well over the buzzing swarm. “Gloat?” she repeated. “Hardly.” She spread her arms. “Consider this... an introduction.”
“I am Queen Bee.” She let the name hang in the air, watching for recognition before the corners of her mouth curled into a satisfied smile. “And I've come to reclaim what is rightfully mine.”
A beat passed.
Bart blinked. “…Her name is actually Queen Bee?”
Kon rubbed a hand down his face. “You've got to be kidding me.”
Cassie tilts her head. “Reclaim exactly what now?”
Anita sighed. “Of course she's bee-themed.”
“Enough.” Tim's voice cut cleanly through the banter. He exhaled sharply and shifted his stance, spinning his staff into a ready grip while keeping his gaze fixed on the woman above.
“We're done talking.”
Given the way their day had started, you’d think this was all connected. Some grand scheme. Some deeper conspiracy.
Which... Yes. And no. It was connected. Just not in the way anyone expected.
It was, admittedly, a long story.
So how the hell did they end up here again?
Tim groaned, head tilting back against the cold, unforgiving chair. His arms were stiff behind him, cuffs digging into his wrists—not the fun kind. The arrested kind. Across from him, the rest of Young Justice sat in various states of absolute wreckage, similarly cuffed to their chairs.
Kon slouched, arms crossed, looking more bored than concerned. Cassie, singed, scuffed, and still faintly smoking from the shoulders, tapped her fingers like she was debating whether punching a hole through the table would be a bad idea or just a regular one. Bart twitched, vibrating, a tad bit panicky, looking far too fidgety for someone physically restrained. Anita leaned her head back, eyes closed, visibly attempting astral projection to escape this nonsense. Slobo—who absolutely hadn't been there when this mess started—was somehow handcuffed beside them anyway, grinning like this was the greatest day of his life.
Which, to be fair, it kind of was.
Tim exhaled, already mid-sentence.
“Wait, sorry, the cuffs are really uncomfy—where was I? Oh right—and then Queen Bee sent a swarm after us, which, in hindsight, we probably should’ve seen coming, but at that point, we were already knee-deep in holding—”
“How exactly is this related?” their captor interrupted.
Tim blinked. Right. How was this related again?
"...I'll get there,” he muttered, rubbing his temples against his shoulder since, you know, handcuffs.
Bart had been vibrating against the cuffs for the last five minutes.
Nobody acknowledged it.
Finally—
“PLEASE LET US GO; I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIEEE!!!” Bart wailed, flailing dramatically against his restraints.
A heavy silence followed. The man across the desk held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, kiddo—relax. We’re not here to hurt you." With an audible click, the overhead lights flickered to full brightness, finally illuminating the room properly.
The jagged shadows vanished. The sickly flicker of a single bulb? Gone. The suffocating air? Just slightly stuffy. The dripping they'd assumed was some elaborate torture tactic? A leaky faucet. The ominous shadows? Fluorescent lights that desperately needed replacing. Not a dungeon. Not a villain’s lair. Not even a questionable warehouse.
Just a completely ordinary police station.
Where they were very much legally handcuffed to their chairs.
Everybody blinks.
The detective looks around. "...In hindsight, leaving only one light on probably wasn't the best choice."
"I told you it looked like a serial killer basement."
Another officer sighed, rubbing his temples. “Seriously. What is wrong with you kids?”
Tim closed his eyes. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale.
The officer tried again. “Look, kids. We promise, we’re just here to interrogate you guys to confirm some things. That’s all.”
Bart blinked at him. Then at the standard-issue police desk. Then the completely ordinary surroundings. Oh.
“...Oh.”
Oh indeed.
Kon groaned. “You’re just now realizing that?”
"I thought we got kidnapped, okay!"
Tim let his head thunk down against the table. “Someone please end me.”
Or Bart. Or both of us. Please. Just spare the world this misery.
Kon snorted.
"Are you done?"
"...No."
Tim closed his eyes.
There was no detective training in the world that prepared you to explain to the cops why you were covered in cuts, soot, burn marks… and vaguely lasagna.
He'd probably put everything together later and lay it out in a way that made sense. But right now? He was too tired. Too done. And entirely too over it.
“I’m craving lasagna.” The speedster swerved sideways, narrowly avoiding another glowing stinger before flicking his thumb across the screen. A tiny digital bee burst into pixels.
The other hero looked up from the case file he'd been skimming, raising an eyebrow. “…What game are you playing?”
“Dodge the Stinger.” He didn't even bother looking up. “I'm this close to beating my high score.”
A quiet hum passes.
“…Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not.”
Another stinger clipped the edge of the screen. “Aw, c'mon—”
The other hero leaned over just enough to peek at the display. After exactly two seconds, he straightened again with an amused shake of his head. “…Yeah. I'll pass.”
The speedster stuck his tongue out at him before immediately returning to his game. “Your loss.”
A familiar chime cut through the room. The other hero glanced down at his communicator. “The League's calling.”
An exaggerated groan escaped him as he finally paused the game. “What is it now?”
He didn't look up. The other hero waited. “…Are you going to answer that?”
The speedster expertly threaded his character through another wave of glowing stingers. “Can it wait?.”
A beat.
“…Before or after the lasagna?”
That finally earned him a glance.
"You think they've got lasagna?” he perks up.
The other hero laughed, rolling his eyes as he opened the message. “Somehow I doubt that's why they're calling.” His smile lingered for another second before fading as he read further. "…It's about the Young Justice.”
“Oh.” The speedster shrugged, absentmindedly slipping his phone into his pocket as he started toward the exit.
“Specifically, those Young Justice Kid Flash.”
He made it two steps, then slowed. His brows knit together. "...Hang on.”
He stopped outright, turning back with a puzzled look. “…Huh?”
The other hero was already walking away.
“…Rob? What do you mean by that? Have we already gotten answers?"
Once again, no response.
“Rob?”
Still nothing.
“Rob!”