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that1emowitch · 1 month

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Bruce, high on painkillers, is being babysat by Jason. Jason has to do an emergency Red Hood thing, and lacking an alternative, slaps a stock domino on Bruce and drags him along.

Bruce proceeds to say/do the most unhinged shit. The goons are suddenly viscerally aware of where Hood got it from.

WOW okay you guys are unhinged, you know that?

(And I love it <3)

A/N: I fully intended to write a crack fic, but the feels crawled in through the plot holes I missed and made their homes in the heart of the story. Also I don't know what you mean by 'stock domino' so I'm assuming it's one of those dollar store ripoffs.

(TW: Accidental overdosing on painkillers, mentions of blood, Jason's usual level of swearing, some goons almost dying but like in a funny way.)

Word Count: 2328

Jason wants to scream.

Like, let it rip out on an abandoned cliff in the howling rain kinda scream.

But no, he's stuck babysitting Brucie Wayne who accidentally OD'd on fucking painkillers after trying to treat himself in Alfred's unfortunate absence (how does that even happen?!).

Dick and Damian are out doing some brotherly-bonding thing, Tim's with the Titans, Duke and Cass are at the movies, and Steph has declared herself "not one of Bruce's kids." Leaving Jason as the only one free to look after their "Dad".

Jason pushes Bruce down on the Batcave's gurney for the billionth time after he attempts (keyword: attempts) to walk again, scowling. None of them are getting any waffles from me again. Or pancakes. Or scones. Or anything I make for them out of my sweet, kind heart. Those little shits.

Jason puts two fingers on Bruce’s wrist, checking his pulse. His skin is cold and clammy, breathing slow, but at least he’s not vomiting anymore. He sighs, collapsing on a chair beside Bruce. He's tired. So fucking tired.

Just as Jason's eyes flutter shut for a moment, the Batcomputer's alarm suddenly blares.

Bruce shoots up, shouting, "ALARM!"

Grumbling, Jason drags himself to the computer, pushing Bruce down along the way. He opens the glaring red notification, brows creased.

Black Mask's goons have intercepted some military shipment...

"Ugh..." Jason groans, and moves to put on his helmet (he never changed out of his costume), checking his guns, when a sudden crash from behind him snaps his attention to the man-child he's supposed to be babysitting.

Bruce has stepped off the gurney and collapsed face-down on the med bay's floor.

He can't just leave him there, can he?

Jason considers his options: He could either strap Bruce to the gurney and leave (in which case Dick will have his head), or he could take Bruce out on the streets with him (in which case Dick will absolutely want to murder him.)

Jason smirks. It’s obvious which one’s the right choice.

Ten minutes later, Jason’s riding through the city at over a hundred miles per hour, with Bruce strapped to the backseat of his motorcycle. Bruce is wearing a dollar store ripoff of the Robin domino and a Robin-themed cape made of Tim’s bedsheets, looking absolutely ecstatic at the high speed.

They arrive at the warehouse where Black Mask’s goons have transported their stolen goods, parking in a shadowed spot a building away. Jason gets off, helping Bruce onto his feet, and says, “Now, I’m going to go shoot some people, you stay hidden and quiet, got that?”

“Guns are bad,” Bruce replies, holding a finger to Jason’s helmet. “Just like clowns. And ducks.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this right now.

Jason quickly scales the nearest building, grappling to the roof of the warehouse. He peeks in through a hatch in the roof to survey the area. There are about a dozen armed goons, none of them looking very bright. There are 4 crates they’re guarding, likely filled with ammo.

Cocking his guns, Jason jumps down through the hatch, landing right in the middle of the warehouse with a ‘thud’ sound. “Surprise,” He grins, raising his guns.

“Aye, that’s Red Hood, ain’t it?” Comes a goon’s terrified voice. The others around him immediately aim their guns at Jason— they’re clearly untrained.

Suddenly there’s another thud behind him. “That’s a bucket, you morons!” Comes a too-familiar, slurred voice. Jason turns around to come face-to-face with Bruce, eyes wide.

In a fight with any real criminals, this distraction would have cost Jason his life. But luckily these adorably clueless goons are just as shocked as him.

Unfortunately the distraction only lasts for a few seconds. Jason immediately jumps into the fight, shooting three goons in the kneecaps and dodging a few bullets. From the corner of his eye, he sees two more goons running out the door, crying. He punches another guy in the face, instantly knocking him out, and is about to turn back to check on Bruce when suddenly something hard collides with his skull.

Jason staggers slightly, trying to regain his balance, when he sees a goon holding a giant stone, wearing a proud grin.

Fuck, his helmet’s probably busted…

Then suddenly Bruce is running towards the goon, hands fisted and veins popping, screaming, “NO ONE HURTS MY SON!”

Then Bruce’s fist collides with the goon’s with a sickening crunch, splattering blood across the floor as the man crumples to the ground. Bruce doesn’t stop there, and continues to beat him up, yelling profanities.

It warms Jason’s cold, (un)dead heart to watch that— to see his Dad fighting for him. It’s like they say, you’re most truthful when you’re drunk— or high. This is how much Bruce loves him.

Then another thought strikes him— Bruce is going to regret being this violent when he sobers up. It’s going to claw at him, tear him up, and he’s going to compartmentalize and end up punishing himself by overworking.

Jason rushes forward, pulling Bruce off of the man. “B— Robin, stop!” He shouted, looking into the man’s domino-covered eyes.

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Robin?”

Jason points to Bruce’s Robin-themed cape and stock domino.

“Ah.” Bruce nods, pulling away. “You okay? Did you see any duck?”

“Duck?” Jason pauses in confusion. But before he can question it farther, he spies the three remaining goons using a ladder to climb up through the roof of the warehouse, trying to escape.

“Stay here. And do not move.” Jason orders Bruce, and runs after them.

He makes his way up the ladder as fast as he can , exiting under the polluted night sky. The goons, the ridiculously stupid goons, are standing around the edge of the roof, trying to figure out how they’re going to get down.

He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this ridiculous shit.

Actually, scratch that, he doesn’t get paid at all.

“Wow, you guys are pathetic,” Comes Red Hood’s robotic voice, startling the goons, and one of them accidentally topples over the edge, screaming. Jason ensures that the guy’s hanging on tight— he can wait.

He cocks his guns, aiming both at the two standing goons. Both men are trembling with fear, hands up in surrender. “Hood— Mr. Hood, please—” One of them squeaks, but one look from Jason shuts him up.

“Please. Mr. Hood was my father,” Jason quips, his robotic chuckle sounding sinister.

That’s when he hears another voice behind him (again)— “But I’m your father.”

Jason jumps, whipping around. “How did you— I didn’t even hear you come!”

Bruce just shrugs innocently, waving his bloodstained hands at the terrified goons.

Then Jason hears the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. From the corner of his eye he sees the bolder of the goons, the one that had spoken before, taking aim.

“DUCK!” He yells, falling out of the way.

Instead of dodging, Bruce falls into a defensive stance, looking around frantically. “Where?!”

The bullet barely misses Bruce’s ear as he turns his head.

Jason has had it with sky-high Bruce now. Annoyance rising, he quickly shoots the two goons in the kneecaps, forgetting about the one hanging off the edge, and stalks up to Bruce, glaring.

“What is up with you and ducks?!” He demands, his voice raised.

“Ducks are evil,” Bruce spits, nose wrinkled. “Just like clowns. And bats.”

Jason’s brows raise. “Bats are evil?”

“Yeah, duh, that’s why everyone’s scared of Batman.” Bruce rolls his eyes, his drawl sounding too much like Steph. “Bats are scary.”

“You really took ‘become what you fear’ too literally, huh?” Jason snorts, putting his guns back in their holsters. Then he takes off his helmet, checking the damage— just a slight crack at the back. Not too bad.

“You know, I fell into a hole and into a cave when I was a boy and a dozen bats attacked me. I nearly died.” Bruce continues, gesturing towards the air with his hands.

“Yeah, right.” Jason shakes his head, chuckling. “Now come on, we gotta get you back.”

That’s when another voice rings out, high-pitched and scared. “Um, Mr. Hood? Please HELP! Please, please, please—”

Jason’s attention snaps to the corner of the roof— ah, right, the goon’s still hanging off the edge, isn’t he?

He grumbles, making his way over, and squats above the man, shaking his head. The man below him looks like he’s pissed himself, face ashen, tears running down his cheeks, muttering, “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die…” On repeat.

“I’ll pull you up on one condition,” Jason looks down at him, voice low. “Never become a gun for hire again. If I see you fighting on the streets…” He pulls out his gun.

“No, no, I won’t, I swear…” The man whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. Jason sighs, and grabs the man by the collar and hauls him up. He crumples onto the roof, curling into a ball.

“Take out your phone and dial 911, tell them you’ve been naughty,” Jason orders, his gun pointed at the man’s head. (What? A guy needs to have some fun.)

The man whines, and immediately obliges.

“Pathetic,” Jason ties the man up quickly, and makes his way over to Bruce, who was sitting on the floor of the roof, taking apart some random crushed handphone he’s found.

“Get up, old man. GCPD will be here soon. We’re going home.” He pulls Bruce up, ignoring how he longingly stares at the dismantled phone.

The two of them grapple down from the roof, landing safely on the pavement. As they walk towards his bike, Bruce says, “Did you know I ate a phone once?”

Jason stumbles slightly. “What?”

“Tasted nice. Like electricity. Crackle-y.” Bruce hummed, his face straight (as straight as someone dating Superman could be). He isn't kidding.

That, or he's delusional.

“Don't try it. You might turn into a computer or something.” Bruce nodded very seriously.

“Oh god,” Jason snorts. “I'm so glad my helmet’s recording all this. Perfect blackmail material.”

“Black's a very, very pretty color.”

Jason rolls his eyes, revving the motor, making sure Bruce is safely strapped onto the backseat behind him. “You're just emo.”

“What's emo?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, words slightly slurred.

“Y'know, when people wear all that black makeup, skinny jeans, with hair covering their eyes.” Jason explains, putting a spare helmet on Bruce's head. “And listen to, like, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco. The Emo Trinity.”

“Oh, oh!” Bruce's eyes sparkle. “Dickie used to do that! He went to a My Chemmy concert once, but he didn't want me coming along.” He pouts.

Jason thinks of all the times Gerard Way has shoved a mic down his throat and grabbed his junk. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Then he turns around to look Bruce in the eye. “But, Golden Boy was emo? Seriously?”

Bruce just smiles and nods, saying, “Now go.”

“Going,” Jason smirks and speeds down the streets of Gotham city, not slowing down until their surroundings change from shitty apartment buildings and broken street lights to the eerie quiet of Bristol. He can see the Manor in the distance when he takes a hidden turn, straight down the road that leads to the Batcave.

He pulls into the underground ‘garage’ section of the Cave, parking his bike before helping Bruce off. As he removes Bruce’s ripoff domino and “cape”, he says sternly, “Now, you tell no one of what we did today, got that? Not a soul.”

Bruce just flashes a thumbs-up and smiles in the most un-Bruce-like way possible. It’s a little creepy, honestly.

“And even if you remember this once you sober up you won’t talk, because you swore on your soul not to tell.”

“Mhm. Kay.”

“Good.” Jason smiles slightly, helping Bruce back to the gurney, making him lie down. He checks him over for any symptoms that the painkiller overdose is making his health worse. His skin’s still cold and clammy, but his breathing’s more steady. His pupils aren’t as small anymore, and he’s way more responsive than he was an hour ago.

Huh. Maybe all he really needed was some exercise.

Jason sits down beside his father, taking a deep breath. “Hey, uh… Did you really mean that, back there? That… That I’m your son?”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Yes, who else’s son would you be? Superman’s?”

A short laugh escapes Jason. He moves closer to Bruce, lying down so his head is resting beside the older man’s. “I just…” He sighs, unable to form the right words. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but… I love you, Dad.”

“Aww, Jaybird…” Bruce’s hand moves sluggishly to cradle Jason. “I love you so much more than you could ever imagine.”

A small smile plays on Jason’s lips as he closes his eyes, leaning into his Dad’s touch. Maybe… maybe babysitting a high Bruce isn’t so bad.

[BONUS!!!]

Dick walks into the infirmary nearly an hour later with Damian trailing behind him, intending to check up on Bruce. He’s been ringing Jason’s phone for a while now, but he hasn’t been picking up. And… Honestly, Dick’s getting worried.

“Tt. I knew we shouldn’t have left Father’s safety in the hands of an incompetent fool such as Todd,” Damian frowns, scowling.

“No, no, it’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Dick tries to reassure his baby brother, but he picks up his pace. “I mean, we both know what Jason’s like. One moment he’s nice, one moment he’s—”

His voice trails off as he sees Jason sitting on a chair beside Bruce, who’s on the gurney— both asleep, with Jason’s head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce cradling him.

“Aww, Little Wing…” Dick smiles, pausing. Even Damian freezes behind him. Dick steers him away, back into the main house, so as to not disturb the sleeping pair. “Yeah, they’re okay. Nothing bad happened.”

#Jason being a little shit who just wants to piss Dick off at first but really gets into the feels by the end #Also Jason didn't consider that to use the helmet's footage of tonight as blackmail he'll have to admit to the fam #that he bought a sky-high Bruce #(who he was supposed to be babysitting)#out into a gunfight #jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #red hood #batfam #dick grayson #damian wayne

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mutable-manifestation · 1 year

Text

Summer Vacation Summoning Shenanigans 2

idk when the batcave gets a Laz pit but the answer here is ‘not yet’ bc reasons

***

By the time Danny’s duplicate returns to him, Robin has finished - very thoroughly - tying up his captive ninja. And was now staring him down.

Red had moved to texting someone after ensuring Danny was belted in and putting the plane on some kind of autopilot - which, very cool.

He hadn’t been bored, though, looking over the plane interior with glee.

While the exterior design was…a bit much, the inside was sleek and high-tech. It was no rocketship, but going over which controls were similar and which differed and trying to guess what they all did was plenty entertaining.

He was less than half-way through them when he re-merged with his duplicate.

Luckily, Red and Robin were still occupied by that point, giving him time to focus on sifting through the memories.

He tries to stifle his laughter, disguising an escaped snort by pretending to cough into his fist.

Red apparently chooses that moment to be done with his phone (and damn, he sent some poor sob a book).

“Sorry about that; I had to update Batman.”

Danny let himself laugh at that.

“Bat-man? Not, like, Birdman or something?”

“Nope, the bat himself. Speaking of which; I was hoping you’d be willing to answer some questions?”

Robin chose that moment to plop into the seat next to Danny, who looked at him in askance.

“His vitals have stabilized; the tranquilizer has fully kicked in. There is no more need to worry about a surprise escape; by the time he awakes we will be back in Gotham.”

Danny hummed.

“So like, are you just dropping him off first? Or was the ‘taking me home’ thing a play on words that actually just meant ‘kidnapping me take 2: electric boogaloo?’ I mean, you don’t even know where I live; my place could be closer to here than to Gotham.”

“Your accent resembles nothing of Nanda Parbat,” Robin says.

Red picks up after him.

“No, no, we’re taking you back to your home,” he clarifies, shaking his head and x-ing his arms. “You’re from somewhere in the mid-western United States, right? Gotham is the first US city we’d hit flying this path.”

“Illinois,” he answers, squinting in thought as he searches his memory for a ‘Gotham’ or a ‘Nanda Parbat,’ which, ha, ‘Par-bat.’ “I take it we’re somewhere in, like, Europe or something?”

The Robins share a look.

“Where is the last place you remember being before you were kidnapped?” Red asks.

“Illinois,” Danny shrugs, settling back in his seat. “Anyway, you can just drop me near Chicago or something and I’ll take it from there.”

Red huffs a laugh. “No need for that. I gave Batman your name and description; he’ll have coordinates to where you need to go in no time.”

“Well, that’s…” ‘Inconvenient,’ he thinks to himself, hoping for the first time that this is actually a different universe so he doesn’t have to come up with an explanation to cover for how he somehow ended up abroad without including the whole ‘being summoned’ thing.

The last thing he needs is to give them a reason to put him through the Ghost Catcher.

“...nice,” he settles on. Unconvincingly.

“Do you know why you were taken?” Robin presses.

Danny opens his mouth to answer, but pauses.

“Yep!” he concludes, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I’ll even answer that question if you answer one of mine first.”

The smaller Robin narrows his eyes suspiciously, Red asking “What question?”

He turns away from Normal Robin to look at Red Robin.

“What’s up with the ‘flying things’ theme?”

Red slow blinks, Danny can practically hear the dial-up noise.

He was probably expecting worse in exchange for ‘hey what does the murder club want?’

The smaller Robin answers while he is collecting himself.

“The Robin title is inherited, passed down from the first. It is a reference to the costume colors. Batman chose his name and costume as a symbol of fear, to intimidate the criminals of Gotham.”

“Oooooh, so it’s like a gang thing!”

Red Robin makes a choking noise.

“What!? NO! I- that- we’re heroes! Batman is a founding member of the Justice League!” He manages, face painted in disbelief.

Robin, for his part, remains silent - though a brief glance out of the corner of his eyes reveals a pinched expression.

“Oh, right,” he nods along, deciding he is definitely not still in the same universe. Sweet, no worries about hiding the ghost powers then, especially since heroes were apparently enough of a thing to have some kind of support group or something.

“So does that mean you have bird-powers?”

“No,” Robin says. “And you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Ah, right, Ra’s’ thing. He said he was trying to summon the ‘Lord of the Dead,’” Danny does air quotes along with the far-too-pretentious-title. Honestly, ‘Ghost King’ was bad enough.

“The ‘Lord of the Dead?’” Red echoes. “Summon? As in, with circles and blood-sacrifices and magic.”

“Yep,” Danny pops the p. “I wouldn’t worry too much though. He’ll probably be distracted trying to un-kidnap this guy and deal with whatever had his other guys running around like chickens with their heads cut off for a while yet.”

---------------------

Tim had left a call open to the batcave so the rest could listen in, and after Danny’s incredibly alarming answers about Ra’s’ current goal it was no doubt exploding with texts and suggestions in the groupchat. Good thing he muted it fully.

He feels a bit bad interrogating the guy, but time and memory don’t go well together. People often dismiss as unimportant things that are actually the key to breaking a case; the more thorough their questions, the more likely they prompted a memory that would give them the answers they needed.

Unfortunately, Danny didn’t seem to know much.

“Did Ra’s say anything about who this ‘Lord of the Dead’ is? Or why they were trying to summon him?”

“Nope!” Danny smiled. “Nothing about - who aside from the title, of course - or why, just that they did want to summon him. If you guys don’t have bird powers, what powers do you have?”

“We are not enhanced beyond what the average healthy human could achieve, though we are all highly trained in combat - some more than others - and skilled in detective work. We rely on skill, research, and preparation.”

And on and on; Danny giving uninformative answers then asking a question for each they’d asked on their ‘turn,’ and them giving carefully vague answers of their own.

One consolation is that he didn’t seem bored.

For someone who claimed to have woken up less than an hour ago on the wrong side of the planet he’s just…relaxed. Calm. Seemingly unaffected, down to his microexpressions.

No signs of shock.

Of course, he’d treated the Lazarus Pit as a kiddie pool.

And despite his words, he’d shown no recognition at the mention of the Justice League, and around half of his questions thus far had been about them.

Clearly something was up with him; whatever it was would probably explain the self-assurance.

He’d escaped from the League before they’d even known he was kidnapped, afterall. Tim and Damian really only solved the final hurdle for him. Even with most of LoA distracted with something, it was still impressive that he’d manage to slip whatever restraints and guard they’d undoubtedly had him under.

Which is, of course, when Damian asks.

“How did you manage to escape?”

Danny shrugs.

“Have you ever seen that thing that coyotes do where they get their leg stuck in a beartrap or something and they gnaw it off to escape?” he says, expression unmoved.

“You are a meta, then,” Damian concludes while Tim just stares at Danny in horror.

At that, Danny’s expression changes.

“A what?” he squints, uncomprehending.

“A meta - or metahuman - is someone with a meta-gene, which grants them superpowers. Like how Flash is so fast: that’s his meta ability,” Tim says. “You still had all your limbs when you…dove into-”

“Wait, wait, back up,” Danny interrupts. “To be clear: I did not gnaw off a limb. That was meant to be a joke. So Flash is a ‘meta.’ Is that, like, common?”

Tim was beginning to suspect this guy either had memory loss, was an unlucky alien who only landed recently - just in time to get kidnapped by the League of Assholes - or was just really sheltered.

He’d also suspect some kind of Pit demon, given where and how they found him, but he has so far been nothing but polite and cooperative - if a bit…chaotic. In terms of questions he’s asked.

“I’m kind of surprised they bothered to form a group if there are so few people with powers,” Danny mused after Damian filled him in on the statistics. “Especially if most of them are as minor as you said.”

“Even just one person with strong powers can spell disaster if left unchecked - the League aids response times in that regard. Besides, it’s not like metas are all there is to pay attention to - there are plenty of villains without meta abilities, intergalactic politics to deal with-”

“Intergalactic? Are you guys doing things in space!?”

Danny was suddenly very close, nose just a hair's breadth from touching Tim’s own.

He swallows quietly.

“Ah, occasionally? G-green Lantern is. A Green Lantern. They’re basically space cops, so that’s…more his thing. Though a previous Robin did have to deal with a Gordanian-Tamaranean conflict affecting a Tamaranean ally - Starfire.”

Danny leans away - just a bit - as he speaks, seemingly basking in the information like a cat in a sunbeam.

“You’re allies with an alien? Ancients,” he breathes. “There are aliens. So cool.”

“Tch, of course there are. I already informed you of Superman,” Damian huffs, causing Danny to whip towards him.

“Superman is an alien!?”

They’d also mention Batman and Superman being close allies, which apparently inspired Danny to let loose the sea of questions he’d been holding back.

“What’s his species called? Is Superman a translation of his actual alien name? You never showed me a picture; does he look human or is he totally different? What’s his planet like? Have you been there? Is he comfortable in Earth’s atmosphere or does he have to use environment-adjusting equipment? Or is it well suited to him? Is that why he has powers, actually? Because the difference in planet allows him to thrive? Or are they an inherent trait in his species? What’s his culture like? You said Green Lantern was ‘A Green Lantern;’ is he an alien too? Or is that the space cops’ names? Are most space cops aliens? What about the Tamaranean person - Starfire? And the Gordanians? Where are they all from are they all from the Milky Way or are some extra-galactic do they allhaveenvironmentalneedssimilartoorlessthanhumanscantheysurviveinthevacuumofSPACE-”

---------------------

Once they get Danny to pause for breath - which takes an impressively long time - they promise to answer his questions with a gentle reminder that they’re supposed to take turns asking things.

If Danny was cooperative before, he’s downright eager now. He listens with near-religious awe to every answer they gave.

When it’s their turn to ask a question he becomes unnervingly still and stares with an intensity that has Tim half-concerned they’ll catch on fire for every second they aren’t talking - though luckily between himself and Damian the pauses are minimal.

His answers are both more detailed and more focused.

If they ask if he saw any information about the summoning ritual, he only mentions catching a glimpse of ‘the summoning room.’ Asking what the room looked like nets a description of the columns’ styles and the general vibes, asking what things he saw in the room got them an exhaustive list, but if they wanted further detail they had to ask specifically about the item in question.

He had an awful lot of details for a guy who only ‘caught a glimpse.’

He also refused to give them details about what the circle looked like because ‘for all I know you could be lying about everything you’ve said so far and planning to use me in your own ritual as a sacrifice to summon the Lord of the Dead.’

He and Damian spend a few of their turns opening the internet on the batplane’s front window and showing him some articles and videos about themselves, Batman, Gotham, and the JL to get them to trust him.

He eventually says he’ll describe the circle to them if he can meet an alien.

Appealing to his sense of self-preservation by explaining the information would increase their odds of stopping Ra’s does not help, nor does appealing to his sense of ‘helping others.’

It’s an introduction or the highway.

Not the worst outcome, given how many aliens they know.

The rest of the flight is spent like this.

---------------------

Danny is having quite possibly the best day of his half-life - and life, if he’s being honest.

Aliens! The universe he’s in has aliens! And he gets to meet one! Probably!

If Ra’s requests something that isn’t outright evil he’s honestly, genuinely considering granting it (in exchange for something, of course. Having a cool home universe is enough for maybe a deal, not for a freebie. Maybe he can ask for a regularly scheduled summoning to talk to the aliens? And all of the information Ra’s has and will ever have on aliens? Ooooh).

Not that he’s going to make it easy on him, of course.

And wow he is loving the information exchange with the Robins - they’re telling him about aliens and he just has to, what, describe a chandelier? A book? His opinion on the pool?

They ask a surprising number of questions about the pool.

He gets twin dead-eyed stares when he asks if they’re thinking of installing a bird bath - yeah it cost him an alien question but there are only so many pool-related questions he can answer while ignoring the joke hanging right there.

He had to.

When they finally land and exit into what looks like the inside of a high-tech barn, he can’t help but think they might just be sour that they didn’t think of it first.

“Not to be judgy, or anything, but I’m not really getting cave vibes here,” he comments as he descends the final step from plane to floor, looking up once he’s clear to watch the roof finish folding closed over their heads.

“Because this isn’t the cave,” an unfamiliar voice says, melting out of the shadows in a corner to reveal a purple-cloaked woman.

“Wait, let me guess: Purple Robin? Purple Bat? Peafowl?”

Purple snorts good-naturedly and shakes her head.

“All good guesses, space cadet, but wayyy off base. It’s Spoiler, non-flying thing name haver extraordinaire.” She dips into a dramatic bow, eyes crinkled in what, even without her mouth visible, was obviously a grin.

“Ehhhh…” Danny tilts a hand side-to-side. “Spoilers can technically fly if you crash a car hard enough.”

“By that logic everything can be considered a flying thing,” Robin frowned.

“Well the Earth is hurtling through space at around half a million miles per hour chasing the sun through an endless void with no ‘ground’ in sight….”

“Well!” Red Robin ends the brief silence that had inspired. “We should probably head to the batcave, but for security reasons we can’t let you see how we get there-”

“Hey, does this smell funny to you?” Spoiler asks, holding up a bottle of what was almost definitely chloroform.

He can see Red and Robins’ mask eyes widening (somehow) and makes the split second decision to lean forward and take a deep breath of the bottle being held just high enough for him to stick his nose over it.

“Citrusy,” he says before pretending to fall unconscious.

***

*Timmy Turner’s Dad’s voice* “I’m respecting reality by acknowledging that chloroform doesn’t work like that but asserting my authority as The Author by making it work like that anyway”

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Sorry if I missed anybody anyway here's part 2!

#dpxdc #chaotic summoned-by-Ra's Danny #Tag interlude #idk much about Spoiler except she's purple and kinda chaotic and maybe set of a gang war by accident once #Also idk if there’s already something like the sensory interference helmet or not #but if there isn’t: yes there is.#(think the thing that prevents superman hearing batman’s heartbeat [idk if that’s canon or fanon either tbh] but like #a helmet #Fucks with just the person wearing it - vision [the obvious one]#but also noise is silenced except something like an internal gyroscope thingy that messes with sense of direction #Idk #I'm not a scientist #Just roll with it #long post

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