148. Flames of the Hearth. (Patreon)

“Even gods must eat and even mortals can share their table.”

---

The comforting scent of baked mozzarella and basil filled La Fiamma di Casa — Pizzeria Tradizionale. Jade Crock wiped her brow, standing behind the counter with a tray of steaming margherita slices and garlic knots. She’d traded her daggers for an apron, her stealth for precision cuts of mozzarella and somehow, it felt right.

“Bellissima! Slice thinner, Jade, thinner!” Nonna called from behind the wood-fired oven, waving her spoon like a general commanding her troops.

“Yes, Nonna.” Jade replied, smiling despite the yelling she received. The warmth of the kitchen, the sound of clinking plates and the low Italian chatter were oddly soothing.

The front door chimed.

The Bat Family entered.

Bruce Wayne at the lead—stoic, black shirt and coat crisp as ever. Beside him, Selina sauntered in with that perpetual feline grace. The younger generation followed: Dick and Tim chatting, Jason leaning against the doorframe with arms folded, Damian and Nika were absorbed into their own version of flirting and Barbara wheeling in with a grin. Stephanie, Kate, Cassandra and the newest member—Duke Thomas—rounded out the large, chaotic family ensemble.

Nonna’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Le mie stelle nere! My favorite troublemakers!”

Bruce inclined his head politely. “Evening, Nonna.”

“Sit, sit! You all look like death warmed over. Except you,” She added, squinting at Selina. “You look molto elegante, as always.”

Selina smirked. “I try.”

Jade froze when she saw them. She’d knew of Gotham’s masked vigilantes, of course—but never imagined they’d stroll into her workplace. And she certainly hadn’t expected to lock eyes with Tim Drake, who promptly yelped:

“Jade Crock?!”

Every head turned.

Before anyone could blink, Nonna appeared out of nowhere, wielding her wooden spoon like Thor’s hammer. “Ragazzo sciocco!” She barked, smacking Tim on the head. “No yelling in my restaurant!”

Tim flinched, hands up. “Ow—okay! I’m sorry, Nonna!”

The entire Bat Family burst out laughing even Bruce cracked a faint smile.

Jason snickered. “Drake, you just got spanked by an old lady with a spoon.”

“She’s faster than you think.” Tim muttered.

As the laughter died down, the restaurant door opened again and the air seemed to change.

King stepped inside.

Immediately, every Nonna and Nonno in the place swarmed him with grateful tears, hugs, and handshakes.

“Ah, Signore King! You return! Bless you for saving our Maya! Bless you for giving us a home!”

King smiled softly. “You owe me nothing. You’ve already paid me back—with good food and good company.”

Maya, covered in flour and sporting a headscarf, peeked from the kitchen and waved her rolling pin. “See, Nonna? I told you he’d drop by.”

Jade was watching, caught between awe and disbelief. She’d seen powerful men, monsters and killers—but none commanded the kind of reverence King did, nor carried it with such quiet humility. It surprises her everytime.

Then Duke Thomas spoke up. His voice trembled, anger lacing the words.

“Then why didn’t you destroy it all?”

The restaurant went quiet.

King turned, the warm light from the oven flickering across his face. “Destroy what, Duke?”

“The Joker toxin.” Duke said, fists clenching. “If you’re that powerful—if you can move mountains and save people like it’s nothing—then why didn’t you erase every trace of it? My parents—”

He stopped, swallowing hard. The air thickened, charged.

King’s eyes narrowed faintly and for a brief moment, the King Engine stirred. The pizza oven’s flames bent toward him drawn as if by unseen gravity.

“I am not here to fix every broken thing in this world.” He said quietly. “I am not a hero. I am merely a man who moves to protect what matters to him.”

Duke flinched but held his gaze.

“If I solved every problem humanity faced,” King continued, voice calm yet resonant, “then humanity would stop trying. Their will to rise, to struggle, to overcome—it would vanish. And when that happens, everything worth saving dies.”

Silence. Even Bruce had no retort.

Duke looked down, ashamed—but not defeated. “I… understand,” He said at last. “But I still wish something could be done.”

Batman stepped forward. “Can anything be done, King?”

King looked thoughtful. Then, reaching into his coat, he drew out a small vial of greenish liquid and handed it to Bruce. “Not directly. But this formula may offer a path. Adapt it carefully—it neutralizes certain neurotoxic agents. With work, it might counteract the Joker toxin.”

Bruce accepted it, eyes narrowing with analytical intrigue. “You’ve tested it?”

“No, I don't do science.” King replied. “I don’t make promises, Bruce. Only possibilities.”

Behind the counter, Jade exhaled softly, stunned by the exchange. "So this is what he can do…" Muttered Jade.

Maya, dusting flour off her hands, snorted. “Amateur.”

Jade blinked. “What?”

Maya crossed her arms, smirking. “You should’ve seen him in Tunguska. We were there—me, Damian, Nika, Suren. He flicked a pebble and carved a canyon through Siberia. That’s King.”

Jade swallowed, eyes wide. “Oh.”

“Exactly,” Maya said, turning back to the oven with a grin. “Now get me the basil. We’ve got heroes to feed.”

The restaurant’s warmth returned—voices rising, laughter echoing again, the sound of cutlery and soft Italian music weaving through the air.

And for one rare night in Gotham, even its shadows felt like home.