"I'm leaving," Arsenal aka Roy Harper announced, turning back to the limo. Two people intercepted him.
"Dude, if we have to be here, you have to be here," said Bart Allen.
"Come on, it won't be that bad," added Jaime Reyes. "I bet the food'll be great."
Roy scoffed. "If I wanted good food, I'd order a pizza. And why are we the only ones from the team here?"
"First off, you're not on the team, Nightwing kicked you off. And Beast Boy is having some sort of family day with M'gann," Bart said.
Roy was about to reply, when a hand reached out from the shadows and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Gah!"
"Hello Roy, Bart, Jaime," said Tim Drake. "I'm glad you came. Party's this way."
"Happy Birthday, Tim," Jaime said, following their host into the mansion.
"What he said," muttered Roy.
"Wow, does this happen every year?" Bart asked, looking around at all the decorations and people and presents.
"Yeah, pretty much everyone has a party for their birthday. But Waynes tend to overdo things…"
"Is the punch spiked?" Roy asked, pouring himself a cup.
Tim rolled his eyes. "Yes, Roy, I slipped some alcohol into the punch, under Bruce's nose, in a party full of minors. Of course it's not spiked!"
"At least tell me there's cake."
"There is indeed cake."
"I don't know when my birthday is," Bart realized suddenly.
"….Why not?" Jaime asked.
"I don't think anyone ever told me. I mean, I know I'm thirteen. I just don't know when I turned thirteen." Bart said.
"Huh. Well, I guess you get to pick your birthday," Tim said.
"You've got a bowl for of giant pixie sticks here," Roy said, holding a few up. "I say we force feed them to Bart and see what happens."
"How about not?" Bart suggested, backing up a few steps.
"It won't do anything, hermano. Trust me," Jaime said.
"Look, I have to go say hi to people, I'll find you again later, Bruce said I could take his 'special' car for a drive. Want to come?" Tim asked.
"I'm in," said Roy.
"Definitely," said Jaime.
"Nah, it's probably slow compared to me."
Jaime elbowed Bart in the ribs. "You're coming. I've had your grandfather and your cousin and Ni- Dick ask me to make sure you stayed out of trouble."
"Um, it seems like I could get into more trouble driving around the city in the middle of the night then just staying here," Bart pointed out.
"Ok, you can come with us and keep us out of trouble," Roy said, pouring his pixie stick into his punch and stirring it together. "Come on, you would not believe the amount of food they have here. And two thirds of it contains enough sugar to kill a small mammal."
Bart trailed after Jaime and Roy, looking a little apprehensive. "I have a bad feeling about this…"
…
Wally West let out another snore, and shifted slightly in his chair, the TV shining soft shifting lights over his sleeping features.
Briing briing!
Wally jolted awake with a start, almost falling out of the arm chair.
"Huh?"
He looked over at the clock. It read 1:56. He grabbed the still ringing phone and hit the answer button.
"Hello?"
"Wally?" asked Bart, from where he was sitting on the top of the Batmobile.
"Yeah, fire another one!" yelled Roy, grinning at the destruction the last missile they had fired at a tree.
"Bart?" Wally's voice was slightly distorted through the phone. "What going on? Aren't you supposed to be at Tim's party?"
"Yeah…I don't think we're in Gotham anymore."
"What? What happened? Tim said it was a small party at his house!" Wally said.
"Well the party was supposed to stay local, but I think we might be in Mexico," Bart said.
"Mexico! How did you get to Mexico? Why do you think you're in Mexico?" Wally asked confusedly, pinching his arm to make sure this wasn't some sort of weird dream.
"Jaime's speaking Spanish," Bart said, watching Jaime explain something about the tires on the Batmobile to Tim. Tim was nodding like he totally got it. Bart was pretty sure Tim couldn't speak Spanish.
"That's why you think you're in Mexico? What, Jaime reverts back to his first language every time he leaves the US?"
"Hey, it's my best guess," Bart said defensively. "Roy! Don't put rocks in the barrel of the guns on this thing! It will not make them shoot rocks! Wally, please send someone to come get us before we all die."
Wally rubbed his temples. "Fine, I'll call Nightwing and have him trace your phone signal. How did you get to 'Mexico' anyway?"
"Tim took the Batmobile. I think normal humans should never eat as much sugar as was consumed tonight…"
Wally took the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment, like it could explain the happenings of his so far very strange night. "They're all on a sugar high?"
"Yup."
"Wow, that's truly amazing," Wally sighed. "Ok, I'll call Nightwing. Just- make sure nothing else gets-"
BOOM!
"Whoo! Yeah!" yelled Roy.
"What was that?" demanded Wally.
"Um, Batman might need some new tires for the Batmobile," Bart said, holding up a piece of burnt rubber.
"What? How did- never mind, I don't want to know. I'm sending Nightwing your way," Wally hung up the phone, and then dialed Nightwing's number. "Hey, I know it's late, but there's a slight emergency…"
Bart sighed, picking piece of grass to pieces as he watched his friends to make sure nothing overly dangerous was happening. His head jerked up as he heard the sound of an approaching car. A black car pulled up behind the Batmobile, and Nightwing got out, dressed in his uniform. "Hi Bart. Wally called me to pick you guys up."
Bart stood up, dusting off his jeans. "Good. Um, you might need to call a tow truck. I don't think any of the Batmobile's tires are actually… whole."
Nightwing looked over at it and sighed. "I'll let Batman deal with that. This isn't Mexico, by the way. It's Florida."
"Who cares? It definitely not where I'm supposed to be," Bart said. "Am I going to get in trouble for this?"
Nightwing shook his head. "No, you were apparently the only responsible one. That's for making sure no one got hurt."
"Except the Batmobile. Let's go, I'm not gonna want to visit Mexico for at least a month."
"Bart this isn't- oh, never mind, just get in the car."