Jason walked with a proud swagger down the busy street, his black leather jacket, dark reflective sunglasses, shining shoes, and clean jeans completing his desired look he had meticulously picked out that morning. He had to wake up early even to dye the white streak in his hair black, and he realized it was worth it. He put his hands nonchalantly in his jacket and looked up at his destination, an impressively tall glass skyscraper.
He smirked.
Earlier that week, Arsenal, or better known to Jason as Roy, bet that Jason couldn't steal a newly-created bomb by Lucius Fox for Batman. The bomb in question could disable any machine run by electricity in a one-mile radius. Roy had a few just like it, as he made them himself, but that was of no consequence. It was much more fun to steal a thousand-dollar bomb from Wayne Enterprises than just to use one of his own anyway.
Forty dollars on the line, and there was no way that Jason was about to lose.
He entered Wayne Enterprises with purpose and stopped in the lobby.
His hands twitched expectantly at his sides.
Damian nodded slightly and flipped to the next page of his 300 page book. His eyebrows twitched at the new title with renewed interest.
Just when he was getting to the most gruesome—and therefore the best—details, the door swung open and Grayson came bursting in like a clown high on Adderall.
"Hey, Dami!" he sang.
"Grayson." Damian said simply to acknowledge Dick's presence. He did not look up from his book.
"I'm about to run to Subway, wanna come?"
"I see no point of running somewhere that is multiple miles away when you could just use one of Father's many cars. Your stamina will run out before you reach your end location," Damian huffed, rolling his eyes.
Dick faltered. "That's… that's not… I was going to take a car."
"That is not what you said."
"It's… it's a figure of speech, buddy."
"I am not your buddy," Damian covered his face with the book, scowling.
Dick sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Sure. Okay. My point is that I will be driving to the Subway. And I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me, or if you'd be fine to chill by yourself until Al gets back."
"Chill?"
"It just means hang out," Dick explained with forced patience. His smile was beginning to look slightly plastic-like.
"Tt." Damian sighed harshly and slowly shut his book. "If I must."
Dick wagged his eyebrows. "You like spending time with me, don't you?"
"I've changed my mind." Damian reopened his book.
"No, come on! I'll go get the car started, get your jacket!" Dick said cheerfully. Damian sighed again and looked longingly at his book before putting it under his arm and moving toward the door.
Soon after, Damian found himself sitting in the passenger seat of one of Father's Lamborghinis, mentally in pain as Grayson obnoxiously "jammed out" (his words) to some equally obnoxious pop song. Grayson had rejected Damian's request to drive, along with his request to listen to Beethoven, so Damian did his best to delve into his intriguing book and ignore his embarrassing brother.
His attempts went unsuccessful.
"What'cha reading?" Dick asked, taking a slight break from singing Taylor Swift's "Bad Blood".
Damian's fingers tightened around his book and he hid the title with his chest. "None of your concern," he snarled.
"Oooh, someone's touchy today," Dick said, still singing, dancing, and patting the steering wheel.
Damian scowled and pulled his book closer. He wasn't entirely sure what "touchy" was, but he didn't care for Grayson's tone. Besides, he wasn't confident that his book would be what Grayson considered "child appropriate".
"None of your concern," he repeated, just as assertive.
"Lemme see," Grayson said, peering over at the book that Damian had pressed tightly on his chest.
Damian jerked the book away and turned away from Dick. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping your eyes on the road?" he snarled.
"We're at a stoplight, now let me see," Dick insisted, reaching over and wresting the book from Damian's iron-like grip.
He took one look at the page and paled.
"What the…"
"It is a detailed overview of some of history's most talented serial killers and mass murderers," Damian explained indifferently. "The one on that page is Stephan Gray Wayne. No relation, of course. His kill count was in the four hundreds, and that's only the ones we know about. Would you like to know about his preferred weapons and forms of murder?"
"What? No! Why are you reading this?" Dick said, aghast.
"It's fascinating," Damian said in a level tone. "Aren't you the one who encouraged me to partake in more learning experiences?"
"I meant to join a club or something! Not this," Dick waved the book violently, a horrified expression on his face.
"Tt. It's not like I've seen worse," Damian said, taking a swipe for the book
Dick held it far away from him. "That is not comforting!"
A car behind them honked loudly, indicating that the light had turned green. Dick tossed the book in the back seat and drove forward.
"I'm confiscating this." Dick said, glaring at the road.
"Whatever. I have more," Damian sounded unconcerned.
"What?"
"Nothing," Damian snapped. He crossed his arms and slumped in his seat. I am contemplating, Damian thought. I do not pout, I contemplate, no matter what Drake says.
"Well, what do you expect me to do if I can't read?" Damian argued. His eyes flicked hopefully to the book on the backseat.
"You can jam out with me!" Dick said cheerfully, pointing to the radio, where horrendous pop songs were still playing. Upon seeing Damian's scowl he shrugged. "I dunno, maybe Tim will have something you can do."
"You said we were going to Subway!" Damian frowned, evidently not thrilled with going to work for Tim Drake.
"We are, and then we're going to Wayne Enterprises so I can give Tim a sandwich since he probably hasn't eaten since yesterday."
"Visiting Drake was never on the itinerary," Damian said, disgusted.
"Yes it was, I just left that part out so you'd come with," Grayson said, smiling smugly.
"You deceived me," Damian hissed, his glare deadly and menacing.
"Not deceive. More like… forgot to mention something," he said, grinning widely. "Now stop pouting."
"I do not pout!" Damian yelled.
"Sure," Dick winked. Damian scowled and crossed his arms as Grayson turned the radio up louder.
The text on the computer screen in front of Tim blurred together as he read through the last paragraph he wrote. He shook his head and squinted at the text so it would come into focus. He read over the paragraph again, sighed, and tapped his fingers on the desk. His writing was practically incoherent. He got up from the chair, walked in a circle to clear his mind, and sat back down. Tim looked sadly at his empty coffee mug on the table and held up upside down to see if there were any drops of the dark-colored elixir left. Much to his dismay, there was none.
The phone sitting next to him rang. He sighed, ran a hand tiredly through his hair, and pressed a button lazily.
"Mr. Drake, there's a Dick Grayson here to see you," said the receptionist.
Tim groaned and pulled at his hair. "Send him in."
"Right away, Mr. Drake."
Tim leaned back and fidgeted with his coffee mug. He tipped it upside down and held it over his head, hoping to somehow miraculously see a drop of coffee somewhere inside it.
The door flew open with a bang and Dick skipped in happily, wearing a t-shirt with his own insignia on it, and holding two subway bags. "Hey, Tim!"
"Hey," Tim said tiredly, holding up two fingers. He set his depressingly empty cup down. Damian sulked into the office but stayed as far away from Tim as possible. Tim's gaze slid over him as if he didn't see him at all.
"Brought you something to eat!" Dick said cheerfully, sitting down across from him. He slid one of the bags across the table.
Tim glanced at it, raising an eyebrow before staring at his screen again. "Thanks, but I don't really have time to take a break right now."
"Tim, you need to eat," Dick said seriously. He smiled and waved his hand at the untouched sandwich, "besides, it's a BLT, your favourite!"
"That's not my favourite sandwich," Tim frowned.
"Peanut butter, pickles, and skittles is not a real sandwich, Tim," Dick said, gagging dramatically. Tim reopened his computer and typed more nonsensical words onto the document and grimaced.
"It's food."
"Barely," Dick said, still looking repelled. A second of silence passed, so Tim sighed and looked over at Dick and was surprised to see he was being genuinely serious, "For real, though. When's the last time you ate? Or slept?"
"Uhh…"
"Stop stalling."
"I'm not stalling, I'm thinking!" Tim squinted his eyes hard and bit the end of his pen. "It kinda depends."
"On?"
"The date?" Tim answered meekly. His gaze was on the ceiling now.
"It's Thursday the ninth," Dick huffed, looking at his watch.
"Oh, like... three."
"Three days?! Tim! That's not good!"
"No, three as in the date," Tim said. He once again looked in his empty coffee cup, as if he was searching for the answers to the universe. After a few seconds he looked back up. His eyes felt heavy and hot. Dick looked horrified.
"Tim."
"Yes?"
"Tim!"
"Yes?"
"That's not good, Tim!" Dick cried, turning away from the desk and throwing his hands into the air. "Honestly, you're worse than B!"
"Yesterday I had some fruit loops!" Tim protested, his voice slurring a bit. His eyebrows furrowed. "Or was that Wednesday?"
"Yesterday was Wednesday, Tim."
"Huh," Tim said. He blinked, noticing that he was sipping at his empty cup. He blinked slowly and licked his lips. "I need more coffee."
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no! No way!" He turned back around, closed Tim's laptop, and pulled Tim to his feet. Tim shook his head as the room spun a bit.
"I have work to do," Tim protested weakly, trying to go back to his comfortable chair. Dick slid Tim's uneaten sandwich back into the bag, scooped it up, grabbed Tim by the arm and pulled him away. "You are coming with me. We're going back to the manor and you are going to take a nap."
"I have work," Tim complained. He began to struggle against Dick's hold, but he was sleep deprived and badly coordinated and Dick was none of those things at the moment.
"B will understand. I'll send him a text."
"Hmmph." Tim blinked his eyes slowly again and when he opened them it was evident that they were very bloodshot. Dick sighed once again and pulled Tim along toward the elevator.
"Damian, come on, we're going!" Dick called. Damian got up from the floor, where he was somehow not seen by Tim for the entire conversation.
Tim's eyes shot up. "Demon Spawn is here?!"
"Drake," Damian scowled, appearing next to Dick.
"Oh, great," Tim huffed sarcastically.
"I disagree, seeing you is not great," Damian huffed, averting his eyes and glaring at the floor. "I'm only here because Grayson tricked me."
"Get along," Dick said, wrapping his arms around his brothers. He glanced down at Damian. "Did you finish eating already?"
"I disposed of the vegetarian salad. Despite the company's advertising, their food is not, in fact, fresh. They are false advertising; it's illegal and despicable. They're criminals, and deserve to be treated accordingly."
"What, are you gonna do? Start a one man vendetta against Subway?" Tim snorted. Damian's frown deepened.
"They're criminals!" Damian insisted.
"They're minimum wage employees!"
"It's diabolical!"
"It's sandwiches!"
"Get along!" Dick repeated, forcibly cheerfully. "We're family! Family has to get along!"
"I disagree," said Damian.
"That is false," muttered Tim at the same time.
Dick rolled his eyes and pulled them towards the elevator.
Cass adjusted her ear buds and stepped out of the elevator, keeping her head down and keeping to herself. She was on her way to meet Stephanie for some coffee, but first she had to drop off some important files at Wayne Enterprises: files Bruce thought to be too important to send digitally, even with having the assistance of the Oracle. It seemed to her that Bruce was too paranoid for his own good; at times it was to the point of excessivity.
Cass gave the receptionist a nod as she passed, not bothering to check in. The receptionist knew her, and she knew the receptionist. There was no point. She knocked on the large dark wooden doors to Bruce's office.
"Come in."
Cass opened the door and silently set the files onto Bruce's desk.
He wordlessly glaced from his computer to the files, to Cass, then back at the computer. "Thanks."
Cass shrugged, shoved a hand into her hoodie pocket, and used her other to grab her phone from her back pocket and checked the time.
12:45.
She had fifteen minutes to get to Starbucks.
Cass looked back up at Bruce and pointed towards the door.
"Leaving now. Am meeting Stephanie."
"I have a board meeting that I have to get to," Bruce said, turning his eyes back to his computer. He typed a few keys. "I'll walk with you."
Cass shrugged again and leaned against a wall, waiting for him to sign out of his computer and grab the files. He stood and opened his office door, nodding smartly at Cass. She nodded again and without another word, they left.
Hi readers! Thank you for reading the first part of our story. Originally this was a one-shot, but we had a little too much fun writing it, so there will be more chapters to come! Thank you so much for reading, and stay safe and healthy!