Chapter Text
Friday, 3:18 AM, The Batcave
Dick Grayson was drenched in water that smelled like rust, with glitter clinging to his boots and his arm mildly broken, but there was nothing in this world could wipe the shit eating grin off of his face.
When Bruce had sent out the call for backup, the momentary panic was immeasurable, flashing images of all the things that could have gone so wrong so fast that Batman of all people needed help. The idea of losing his brother, again, to something that could be boiled down to being his fault, again, was almost too much to bear, sending him leaping off the roof with little regard to his injured arm and a tunnel vision so focused that he didn't even notice the faint crack of his already bruised humerus fracturing. That was, he didn't notice until he heard Red Hood's outraged yelling on the other end of his comm, showing he was fine and the call was for something else entirely. The relief hit him so hard that it was physically painful, beyond suddenly registering his newly broken bone.
But that didn't matter, his body will heal in no time.
Blackmail, however? That was forever.
It had taken some doing, managing to get Jason down from the rafters (after taking plenty of pictures, of course) and into the car, all while he was thrashing and spraying water at anyone who came close enough. Tim had been willing to just leave him up there until he tired himself out, allegedly not wanting to get any of the evidence he had gathered wet, which left it up to Nightwing and Batman to get him down. Both of them decided to just deal with the water, not wanting to take away his last remaining 'weapon' which would only serve to make him defensive enough to run away before they managed to get him back to the cave. A small price to pay, for the absolute gold stored in his helmet cam. All of which is what led them to here, Dick leaning against the edge of their meeting table as Alfred checked his arm, Bruce sitting at the Batcomputer with a barely there smile on his face (a smile! On Batman!!), Tim sitting primly to the right with a laptop in front of him, and finally Jason, still cocooned in chains and sitting in a chair to the left with the most infuriated glare on his face.
He would be more worried about that, but... There was some part of it that didn't reach his eyes, even with the backup mask still in place (Not that the masks could hide their expressions from each other after all these years). That showed that no matter how convincing the front he put on, he wasn't actually as furious as he looked. Something was distracting him from his anger, and keeping him distracted enough that there wasn't even a hint of green seeping in. Tim could obviously see it too, since they were sitting at the same table without a bit of wariness on his part. Dick didn't quite know what happened to cause the absolute carnage that they had walked in on in that warehouse, as neither B nor Jason had spoken a word about it while securing the cultists for the police, but he just knew it was going to be good. He also knew, that no matter how hard Jay tried to keep him from finding out, he wouldn't succeed, as Babs had downloaded the entirety of tonight's footage the second Bruce plugged the helmet in to the computer. His texts with her confirmed as such. 'Already in my files', she had said.
This is going to be glorious.
B turned from where the screen was filled with the blurred image of Red Hood running down a dark alleyway after being caught off guard by a tranquilizer dart, ready to play with the click of a button. He still wore the cowl, but his expression was that of Bruce rather than Batman as he looked at Jason.
"So..." he began slowly, steepling his fingers together under his chin as he leaned forward. "Who was the girl?" Jason's expression somehow got even darker, while Dick's grin widened. Oh, this is going to be even better than glorious.
"A girl?" Dick asked, giddiness creeping in around the edges of his tone at the direction he saw this going. As the elder brother it was his sworn duty to see his part through, even if his teasing ended with a gun in his face. Again. Jason didn't turn from his stare down with Bruce, but the tick of his jaw clearly told of the glare he held back. His query went unanswered, however, as the cave steeped in the silence between the two, both refusing to back down.
"She never said." Jason growled through gritted teeth. Bruce didn't get a chance to respond before Oracles voice called from the computer, cutting through the tension of the cave with little regard.
"She called herself Marinette." His jaw clenched at her direct contradiction, full body tense with mild aggression borne of embarrassment.
"What did you say to cause... That." 'That' was certainly one thing to call it, Dick thought sarcastically, There were people literally glued to the ground! How did she even do that?! Dick honestly didn't know if he wanted the answer to be in the footage, since if it was, his siblings would undoubtably find out and attempt to replicate the effects on each other. Or worse, on him. There was another tense moment of silence, and Dick was almost certain that Jason wouldn't answer, opting instead to close off until Bruce made one of his signature grunts and played the footage until they found out anyway, leading to teasing, hurt prides, and prank wars that were more 'war' than 'prank'. But, he was mildly surprised when Jason opened his mouth to speak.
"Oracle, what would it take for you to stop this?" Dick stood straighter. (Eliciting a chiding hum from Alfred at the movement, which if it were any other situation he would be immediately remorseful, but this was too important.) Dick prepared to make as many counter offers as he could, but he needn't have worried as Barbara's detached and slightly smug voice came through the speakers.
"Sorry Jason, you brought this on yourself." His brother's glare finally slid away from Bruce, instead moving to Oracle's nearest camera. Honestly, he had about the same chance of winning a staring contest with the camera as he did with the Batman, but hell knows he'll try it anyway.
Bruce took the opportunity to turn back to the computer, and start the video, immediately drawing rapt attention from all of the vigilantes that were present. It started with Red Hood running towards a forked path, one narrow and clear that looked to head into a maze that hid corners in the shadows, and the other one wide and covered in trash with doors heading into dark buildings, but was otherwise a seemingly dead end. In the video, Hood yanked a tranquilizer dart of some sort (that had somehow gone through his armor, Dick noted with a narrowing of eyes) out of his chest and threw it far into the maze like path, then sprinted for cover in the trash heap halfway down the other. He was stumbling, practically running near sideways and bracing himself with a hand on the wall, the drugs clearly having taken effect despite his valiant effort to fight them off. He will need to ask Oracle how long it had taken for the drug to affect Jason. With the resistance training all of them had gone through and his brother's size, any standard tranquilizer dart should have a minimal effect unless they either planned specifically for him, or had some kind of specialized equipment. The fact that it went directly through his armor, the second option was more likely, which was sure to lose Bruce and Tim some sleep figuring it out. Hell, he thought, It will probably lose me some sleep, too. He tapped his fingers anxiously a couple times, but otherwise let the thought pass to be considered later.
The video continued with Red Hood practically diving underneath a large pile of lumpy black trash bags, clumsily shifting them into a better cover. Though, Dick thought with amusement, He does seem to blend in rather well. He snickered quietly as Video-Jason passed out in the trash with a slump, and Real-Jason turned his scowl onto him.
"Laugh it up, Dickface, I know for a fact you have ended up in more trashcans than everyone else in this room combined." Jason growled out at him. Dick placed a hand on his chest and opened his mouth in an expression of mock hurt, being careful not to move too much and disrupt Alfred's work again. (He doesn't think he could emotionally handle another displeased eyebrow raise today. He would rather break his other arm.)
"He's got a point, and I have pictures to prove it." Tim chimed in before he had a chance to respond, not looking up from his laptop. Jason sent him a victorious grin that was mostly teeth and aggression, but lacking the usual threat he had become so accustomed to.
(Dick had to suppress the giddiness bubbling up from seeing an expression that used to be so common on the little boy he was too late for, knowing it would only scare him away.)
"Hn." Bruce grunted, silencing them as sounds drifted from the computer. Dick pouted, not being able to make his own retort, but let it slide in favor of watching the screen.
Muffled voices filtered through the speakers as an authoritative voice gave out commands.
"Cat, Jake, you two go around and check the buildings. Brax, search that alleyway. Mark, Jacob, and Nigel, go get the cars and prepare for pickup. The rest of you, find The One of Red and Black." There was a chorus of affirmatives and scattering footsteps, with only one pair left walking towards where Jason was passed out, though not in any particular hurry.
"Ah hah!" Came Oracle's quiet exclamation as security footage from one of the nearby buildings popped up on the screen. Tim raised an eyebrow.
"I thought you couldn't find any cameras in the area?" He asked, since this would have been useful when they were looking for Hood in the first place.
"Someone left a laptop plugged into the security system and connected to the Wi-fi." She replied, causing him to nod in understanding.
"Ah." The security footage, black and white and grainy as it was, showed the presumed Brax shuffling through the trash-filled alleyway looking practically dead on his feet. He stood just before the dumpster, next to Jason's hiding spot and slowly looked around. His head stopped at the trash heap, and Dick tensed lightly thinking that this was where his brother had been caught, but then the cultists just tilted his head back with a jaw cracking yawn. Dick blinked at the screens a couple times, before looking over at Jason, who was looking somewhere between contemplative and as if he had just eaten a lemon.
"Jay?" he asked, as the cultist on screen yawned again as his head panned over the trash heap, slightly swaying on his feet, clearly not even bothering to search the alley with any amount of effort more than it takes to open his eyes. Jason looked over at him with a narrowed eye glare, then back at the screen.
"Must be the one who was sleeping the whole time." Dick could tell that it was a deflection from what he had actually been thinking, but he allowed it anyway. He was a magnanimous older brother like that.
(Dick catalogued the reaction for later though. A detectives mind never stops working, after all.)
"Where was he?" He asked, not remembering seeing someone napping, though admittedly he had been a tad bit distracted by laughing the whole time. The corner of Jason's mouth ticked upward in amusement, though only barely.
"Glued to a pillar behind the boxes full of singed machining parts." Dick could only blink a few times as once more the burning questions came to the forefront of his mind. Who is this 'girl'? And mainly, HOW? And can we use that glue on Tim to make him sleep? Actually on second thought, he would probably just end up gluing himself to his computer. He didn't get the chance to ask anything, though, as the cultist on the video blearily started walking away
"Fuck this shit..." He muttered, and then Red Hood was alone in the alleyway, completely hidden. Tim looked up at the screen and tilted his head.
"If the cultists walked right passed you, then how the hell did you manage to get caught?" He asked, turning his gaze to Jason.
"Don't ask me, Replacement, I was unconscious." The chained up vigilante replied with a growl, squinting with a calculating glare. Dick suspected he knew more than he let on, or at least had a good guess. It had to have something to do with the girl, or he wasn't a Bat. The only question now is how.
"Well, if you would both turn your attention to the screen..." Babs called from the speakers, both the CCTV and helmet cam footage jumping forward just a few minutes to when a door swung open on the opposite side of the dumpster to where Red Hood was hidden. It was a woman holding a phone to her ear with one hand and carrying a trash bag that looked close to bursting in the other, pushing the door open with her back, seeming to struggle a bit under its weight. Called it, Dick thought, that must be her. he couldn't make out many details from the grainy, black and white footage, but she seemed small and wore her dark hair in a high bun. She was wearing a light jacket and light colored pants, but he couldn't make out much else.
"Attends un instant, Maman." She said as she took the phone away from her ear to flip open the lid of the dumpster. Dick raised an eyebrow.
"French, huh?" He said teasingly, turning to waggle his eyebrows at his brother. He just got a glare in return.
"Shut up, Dickface." In the video, the woman shifted and grabbed the trash bag with both hands, then flipped it over her head and into the dumpster with textbook form and solid stance, a satisfying thunk echoing out as it hit. The noise and vibrations caused Video-Jason to shift slightly in his unconsciousness. She paused, turning her head to look at the pile he was hiding under, before slumping her shoulders and groaning dramatically into her phone.
"UGH, is it really that hard to throw your trash into the dumpster?" At the bottom of the helmet footage the English translation scrolled through, which was useful since his French skills were a little rusty.
"Clearly not for her..." Tim muttered, and Dick couldn't help but agree. That move was practiced.
"Seriously, when I find out who keeps just leaving all these bags on the ground I'm going to... To switch their salt and sugar!" She-Marinette presumably- spat the words with such vehemence it sounded like the worst curse in the world. There was a beat of silence as the Gotham vigilantes blinked, processing the fact what they just heard(or read, rather) was, in fact, correct, before Dick burst into muffled snickers.
"Oh god." Tim deadpanned, keeping his poker face despite the laughter in his eyes. "She's adorable."
"Careful there, Timmers, that's just a front. She's deranged." Jason corrected, tone ominous and resigned as he leaned back in his chair, chains rattling. Dick could see that specific frown on his face, though. The downturned corners of his lips and slight flare of his nostrils that nearly looked like a sneer, but lacked the scrunch of his nose to fully convey distain. The one that told him Jason was just as amused, but refusing to show any emotion beyond the veil of aggression and anger.
"Hm." Bruce huffed, a warm undercurrent to his usual growl, clearly also amused.
"I don't believe that to be a laughing matter." Alfred said from his side where he had just retrieved a sling, a reproachful eyebrow raised and an extra note of propriety in his voice. "Master Jason is correct, such threats are a serious thing." Dick's cheeks puffed out with the effort of holding back snickers, and Tim's lips pressed tightly together. Jason just smirked.
"Huh? Oh, no I'm taking out the trash." The woman's voice interrupted any further conversation, refocusing their attention back on the screen as she started dragging bags out of the pile. His grin widened. Her first impression of Jason is going to be finding him in the trash, oh this is perfect! I am so never going to let him live this down.
"Around ten thirty, I think?" She said, lifting a bag up with one arm and dropping it into the dumpster absent mindedly. Dick raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone with one hand. (The one not in a sling, of course.)
TheWingedWeenus: how heavy was the first trash bag, if she is just lifting these ones one-handed?
AllSeeingEyes: Gimme a minute.
"The office? Well- the apartment building turned office place that I told you about." She replied to whomever was on the phone, sounding confused. Her mother, she said 'Maman'.
"Wha- no-" She let out a heavy, exasperated sigh and rolling her head back as she tossed in another trash bag, listening to the phone for a moment.
AllSeeingEyes: Based off of the assumed brand, trajectory, noise level, and the way it almost split open while she was carrying it, I'd say somewhere between 75-90lbs.
…What the hell was in that bag?
Dick blinked, glancing back at the screen for a moment. The level of ease and familiarity she had with the motion and the amount of strength and control she displayed...
TheWingedWeenus: …how tall is she, again?
"We've been over this, Maman, Gotham is no more dangerous than high school, I haven't even been kidnapped or attacked, or even dangled above a swimming pool of boiling soup! It's way better here than it was in-"
AllSeeingEyes: According to her ID, 5'2".
Dick didn't respond, too busy looking incredulously at the scrolling translation as she yanked the phone away from here ear as loud and indistinct French started pouring out of the speaker. That Jason's helmet-cam could pick it up even through the huge(though now rather diminished) pile of trash was rather telling. Dick could sympathize, he had been on the receiving end of such phone calls before. To be fair, he thought, after what I just heard, I would do the same thing in her mother's position. What the fuck.
"MAMAN! Slow down! What are- Wait a- Oh, you didn't know about that?" She grabbed another trash bag, this one near the bottom edge of the pile which revealed Video-Jason's arm. She didn't notice.
"'Oh, you didn't know about that?'" Tim muttered from his seat, slightly mocking. "What?" His brother sounded bewildered, and Dick couldn't blame him, as he was in the same boat.
"Yeah, that was when Hawkmoth akumatized Grand-uncle Cheng the second time after Lila tried to blame me for putting rat poison in-" Dick shared a concerned and mildly alarmed glance with Tim as she paused, seeing the complicated and mildly disturbed expression on Jason's face but not quite having the time to decipher it fully before the woman started shouting into her phone.
"NO! MAMAN! He is already in prison, and Lila is long gone! I'm fine, no one died that time, Ladybug fixed it and helped sort out the poison thing." Dick's jaw clenched. At the rather glaring red flags of this Marinette girl being highly traumatized, or at least desensitized enough from such events to just casually call it 'The Poison Thing', and at the reminder of Ladybug, one of the Justice League's biggest failures. Another child hero he couldn't help until it was too late.
"No, Lila never got caught. Despite Ladybug's best efforts, she managed to twist it around to be some big misunderstanding because her totally real tinnitus made her mix up words in Chinese, a language she definitely knew before that moment." She punctuated her words by throwing a bag into the dumpster with more force than strictly necessary, before taking in a deep breath and relaxing her posture.
"Hm..." Bruce hummed contemplatively with an undercurrent of a disapproving growl and miniscule twitch of his fingers. Dick couldn't help but agree. With that level of emotional control, and attitude she displayed(along with the mentions of Akumas), she was clearly from Paris, probably all through Hawkmoth's reign. Add in what sounds like an extreme bullying campaign and what they saw of her skills back in the warehouse... He'll have to see how large her death toll was as an Akuma. It couldn't have been pretty.
"I know, Maman." She said, sounding as if she never was upset in the first place. Emotional repression as a trauma response? Dick thought sardonically, glancing around at his family. She'll fit right in.
"It's fine, I'm on another continent and she can't do anything to me anymore. And thanks to Ladybug's help, none of my old class will listen to a word she says either, so we are all fine." She said reassuringly cheerful, tossing a bag into the dumpster.
"Hnn." Bruce grunted with a brooding frown and hunch of his left shoulder.
"No." Chorused all the previous Robins in the room, tones ranging from amused, to flat, to downright murderous.
"No, I don't know where Ladybug is." The woman said flatly, throwing in another trash bag as she listened to the phone. No one does, Dick thought, narrowing his eyes slightly. And she is damn good at hiding, Batman and the rest of the Justice League has been trying to find her for three years with no success. Marinette is clearly very familiar with the spotted heroine if she helped with what seems to be bullying that was so bad she needed to leave the country. Could she have a connection to Ladybug?
Oh the screen, he could see her practically deflate with the force of her sigh before weakly protesting to whatever tirade her mother is on. The effort is futile, if the defeated tone of her voice is any indication.
"I can't- Maman..." There is a long moment of silence as she grabs a couple more trash bags, revealing one of Red Hood's legs to the security camera, but somehow not noticing his presence herself. A quick glance at Jason showed that contemplative-lemon expression on his face again, this time with a hint of incredulity. Can't wait to figure what that's about.
"Okay, okay, fine!" She huffed exasperatedly, snatching up a trash bag that revealed another leg, "If I ever see Ladybug again, and if I somehow manage to talk to her, I will tell her you want to give her a gift basket." Another trash bag, another arm revealed, yet she still didn't notice.
"Is she for real?" Tim asked gesturing at the four very obvious limbs sticking out from the much smaller pile of garbage. Jason snorted.
"I had the same question." He muttered under his breath.
"And a lifetime supply of baked goods." She continued, unearthing Video-Jason's stomach. He doesn't blend in that well, she seriously should have seen him by now. For someone who managed to take down an entire cult by themselves, this is really... Unlucky.
Dick considered the thought, going back over it in his head before he smirked and turned to Jason.
"You know, it seems that you just blend in too well with the garbage. Maybe you should have hidden there during that time with the food truck shootout next to the-"
"Continue that sentence and no one will find your body, Richard."
"She's a superhero," the woman continued, "and a retired one at that, I can't force her to go back to Paris just for..." There was only one trash bag left, covering Video-Jason's head and upper body. Her voice became higher pitched with exasperation as she waved a hand around, before reaching for the last bag. Dick leaned forward eagerly, waiting to see what happened.
"Just because I used to work with- EEK!" The woman on screen dropped the oversized trash bag with a thud, letting out a screech as it dislodged Hood and he rolled out onto the ground in front of her. All the vigilantes were quiet, focused entirely on the screen as Red Hood's helmet showed full color, HD footage of the girl, who was now staring dumbstruck as the unconscious vigilante.
The first thing Dick noticed were her eyes. Wide with surprise and colored a vibrant bluebell blue, seeming to glint with reflected light in the dark alley, almost as if they held secrets of the universe in their depths. The second thing that he noticed was the second half of the typical Wayne Adoptee Features in the form of black hair. (With hints of a Tragic Backstory, and the carnage left behind in that warehouse showing obvious skill, all she would need is dead parents and a vigilante costume to be adopted on the spot.) The third thing that he noticed was that she was absolutely adorable.
"Uuuuhh, sorry Maman, I'll call you back later. Nono! Everything is fine! I just- uh- found a raccoon in my trash!" Dick heard Tim cover a laugh with a cough, and could see Alfred raise an eyebrow from out of the corner of his eye. Oh my God.
"No, its like... a really big raccoon." The woman hadn't moved on screen, eyes glued to Red Hood, or the racoon, as she apparently claimed. Oh. My God. My brother is a trash panda.
"No, not fat really," She said with an appraising tilt to her head and a faint blush, "Just... Big." Tim lost the fight with discretion and didn't bother hiding his next bout of laughter. Dick gets the feeling that if Jason weren't so incredulous, he would be spewing verbal attacks right now. Not just any trash panda, my brother is a Big trash panda!
"Yes. I will. Love you, bye." the woman lowers the phone and hangs up, spending a few long moments to just stare at the unconscious Red Hood before speaking again, but this time in English with a high pitched and breathless tone.
"... What the flipping fiddlesticks?!"
Barbara had the consideration to pause the videos as Dick and Tim died laughing.
---
While the boys had been busy with securing Jason, the cultists, and blackmail material, Barbara had been doing all of the detective work for them. Well, not all of it, as Tim had taken to investigating the makeup and origins of the tranquilizer dart that took Red Hood out, but that didn't really count since she didn't have the data for it yet and thus couldn't investigate through that avenue. If she did have that information, though, she would be searching through it as well, so really she was doing all of the detective work. Multitasking had always been something she was good at, more so now that she had years of practice, so she had managed to get most of the case notes finished and and evidence compiled before the boys even got back to the cave. The security footage had been a tad tricky, but once Jason's helmet had been plugged in to the Batcomputer a few reverse image searches and a couple cheap firewalls later she had access to the whole building and a day and a half of security footage. Digging through the files on the laptop had revealed it to belong to the owner of the building, one Allan Gregory Manchester. According to the E-Mails left open in his browser, all of which were complaints about the piles of trash in the alley, as well as the secondary recording software linked to a cloud server, she could guess that he was trying to find out who was responsible.
Honestly, she could only commend him for actually doing something about the tenants complaints. Caring about that sort of thing is depressingly rare in this city.
Watching the helmet footage itself in the background and on two times speed, she made markers for herself on where to skip sections, and points to run through her transcription software. The French translation was a bit of a curveball, but luckily she had something on hand from when they found out about the Paris situation.
Throughout all that, she ran background checks on all of the captured cultists and and started a list of their possible associates and connected agencies. The owner of the warehouse, she found, accepted a bribe in order to allow the cult to do business there. Digging further, she found that they also owned the warehouse that had burned down, causing all of that construction Bruce drove through to get to Jason. Pages and pages of OSHA violation complaints, unsafe working environment reports, and a declaration of bankruptcy paint a rather obvious picture of what happened there. She was still working on finding the connection between the cult members, as there was no obvious rhyme or reason behind why each person was recruited or who started it all, which is always a frustrating situation. She will likely need to get someone to do legwork for that one. Ugh.
Finding Marinette Dupain-Cheng's documents was rather simple, too. Her conversation with her mother, Sabine Cheng, a well known baker in Paris, gave enough information to narrow down her search. She set a simple background check to run with the ones she was doing on the cultists, making a mental note to do a more in depth search later before moving on to the lead cultist's bank accounts and transaction history.
She was only keeping half an ear on the footage and the boy's commentary. She had a lot of more important work to do before she could go to sleep, hopefully before the sun came up this time. She would have to go back and watch the full thing another day when she wasn't so busy she couldn't appreciate the shenanigans, but as of now, she would let the boys do what they do best and antagonize each other.
The recordings would be a great way to destress later, at least.
---
Tim was the first to regain enough composure to start the teasing.
"You know, it makes sense that you would have to literally fall in front of a girl's feet to get them to notice you."
"Is your ass jealous of all the shit your mouth drops"
"From the garbage you came, to the garbage you return"
"When are you going to kickstart your reputation for adultery? Your parents will be disappointed in you if you don't continue the family tradition."
"You know, having been in your safe houses, it's no wonder you blend into the dumpster aesthetic so well. You sure do have the lifestyle for it."
"I wasn't going to tell you to spare your feelings, but at the last 'Tim Drake fan club meeting' meeting they had a vote on what animal is most representative of you. The vote was unanimously set on 'Cockroach'."
"Maybe if we tell Damian you are a raccoon he will like you more.”
"Maybe if I tell him you were the one to shave Titus, he will kill you faster."
"Why, can't do it yourself? Oh wait- you already tried."
"If I wanted you dead, you would already be dead."
"Crime lord? More like edge lord."
"Try hard? More like fail hard."
"Theater kid."
"Dropout"
"Street rat."
"Neglect case"
Dick felt his fingers start to twitch as his brothers got more heated, stepping forward to the edge of the table between the two, holding out his good hand in a placating gesture.
"Maybe we should calm down-"
“Shut up, Dick." They said simultaneously, not taking their eyes off each other.
"Hrn." Bruce scolded, lips pursed with one corner downturned slightly.
"No one asked you, Bruce." Jason spat with a glare, eyes intense with a spark of green around the edges. From his spot next to Dick, Alfred cleared his throat, drawing attention from the bickering boys. Then he raised an eyebrow.
Jason took in a slow, deep breath before letting it out all at once, relaxing his shoulders and slumping back in his chair.
"Sorry Alfred." The butler nodded in acceptance before turning to Tim.
"Master Timothy," He winced at the use of his full first name, "Please refrain from antagonizing your brothers." Tim kept his face blank and posture picture perfect, nodding his head and responding with a business like tone.
"Yes Alfred."
Dick let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. This family would fall apart without Alfred. He sent his pseudo-Grandfather a grateful slump of his shoulders and tilt of the head. In response he got an amused crinkle of the left eye and a twitch of his ring finger. Dick grinned, that was all the permission he needed.
"So..." He said leadingly into the tense silence, "You managed to get kidnapped with a Parisian, huh? No wonder she managed all that carnage." He said with a teasing grin. Jason just looked annoyed and confused.
"Yeah, what the hell are you talking about?" Dick blinked. Tim blinked. Alfred didn't react, and Bruce frowned slightly, tilting his head and shifting his shoulder back toward the computer. Jason looked at him.
"Well?" Bruce nodded, turning back to the computer and pulling up the filed on another monitor. While he did, Tim started explaining.
"It was before you fully came back, but about three years ago, the Justice League found out about a supervillain in Paris who called himself Hawkmoth." The picture that appeared on the screen was a screenshot from the video of the final battle in the supervillain's lair, an underground butterfly garden of all things. "We only found out after he was defeated by some of the Parisian Heroes."
"Only 'some of'?" Jason asked, a glint in his eyes as he absorbed as much information as he could from the picture. It was Ladybug standing over Hawkmoth, her magic Yo-yo wrapped around his legs and his sword pointed at her throat. Mayura was to the side, paralyzed mid-swing by Queen Bee who was on the ground cradling a severely broken leg next to a pile of blue tinted rubble a few feet away. Chat Noir was hanging upside down from a support beam wrapped in spiderwebs (looking much like Jason had earlier, Dick thought) above the glass coffin holding Emilie Agreste, only looking at his mother's body with unseeing eyes. Viperion was trapped underneath a collapsed wall that he had been thrown into previously, unconscious. The only other hero still standing was Ryuko, and that was because of the sword buried through her stomach and deep into the moss and blood covered wall, supporting her weight and keeping an Akuma trapped with her. There was one more hero present, but they were not visible until the end of the battle's footage. This image was of the moment right before Multimouse took Hawkmoth's Miraculous and revealed him to be Gabriel Agreste, famous fashion designer, known hard-ass, and later discovered as the Father of Chat Noir.
Talk about fucked up.
"Only six of the twelve known Parisian Heroes were brought to the final battle, though the cat hero only showed up halfway through and got distracted and taken out immediately." Tim continued with a hint of derision.
"I mean, to be fair, that is his mom's preserved corpse in the glass case." Dick chimed in, tone kept light but words heavy. A moment of silence spread through the cave. They all could sympathize with Chat Noir. Every single one of the Bats had seen some horrifying things and experienced significant loss. Not everyone could put aside the feeling of their world crashing down around them to be a hero, and that is okay, it's understandable. It's human.
But when you're a superhero, you aren't allowed to be just Human.
Jason cleared his throat.
"What does this have to do with Marinette taking down a cult with superglue and rubber chickens?" Tim took a breath and recentered himself before continuing his explanation.
"Well, unlike most supervillains, Hawkmoth's power allowed him to corrupt people who were feeling strong negative emotions into being his superpowered minions themed based around whatever made them upset, hence the giant spider person in the background." Dick saw a spark of recognition in his brother's eyes.
"Themed superpowered minions that would, say, try and cook people into soup?" Tim tilted his head slightly, eyes squinting into the middle distance and fingers moving as if he were typing. Bruce grunted, posture tilting forward as he pulled up another picture on the Batcomputer. There was another moment of silence. But instead of solemn, this one was incredulous.
"What even is that?" Jason asked, face pulled in disgust.
"An Akuma." Tim deadpanned.
"Why is its skin purple? Why is it wearing orange?!" His chains rattled, Jason forgetting (or more likely not caring) that he was still restrained and trying to wave his hands around emphatically. Dick grinned.
"Would you believe me if I said that's one of the better looking ones?" Jason whipped his head around, tilting back and wrinkling his nose.
"Bullshit." His grin widened with challenge, left eye squinting.
"Completely true. We can prove it." Jason leaned forward, narrowing his eyes and jutting out his chin in a way that would look aggressive to anyone else, but Dick could only see the posturing of the little brother he thought he lost before he had time to love.
"No self respecting supervillain would make minions who look worse than that," He argued. "That's worse than the Discowing suit!" His brother jabbed accusatorially. He was completely unrepentant.
"You're just mad I can pull off the flared collar, you two-thousand-and-five film Darcy wannabe." Dick said with a teasing voice, striking a dramatic pose that was only slightly ruined by the fact his arm was in a sling.
"That's Mr. Darcy wannabe to you, thank you very much." Jason declared with a scowl that could rival Damian's, but the ghost of a smile around his eyes. "And everyone knows that the nineteen-ninety-five version was better." Tim hummed shortly, drumming his fingers once on the table. Oh boy.
"Maybe, but the gazebo scene was unequivocally better in every way." He softly tapped his index finger twice behind his laptop where only Dick could see it with a small smirk. He returned the expression, leaning back to let his little brothers rehash old arguments. If it let them get the competitiveness out of their systems without needing Alfred to interfere, then who was he to stop them? Predictably, Jason puffed up in affront.
"That scene is mediocre fan-service at best! It is not better than the proposal scene in the BBC series!" Dick saw Bruce sag near imperceptibly in his chair, lips thinning and eyes closing for half a second longer than they normally would. He suppressed a giggle at his adopted father's dramatic suffering at one of Jason's favorite topics for heated debate. "The delivery of his declaration of love for Elizabeth was flat and lacked nuance. It wasn't even close to as insulting as the series or the book!"
"The cinematography and setting conveys all the meaning and nuance that the character doesn't have. The rain, thunder, and camera angles impart stronger emotions to the audience than the series, making it more memorable and impactful." Tim argued smoothly.
"More impactful?!" Jason repeats incredulously. Dick suspects that if he weren't chained down, he would be pacing the room. "Puh-lease, only to someone with no taste and half a brain! A little water and a gazebo doesn't make up for the lack of visible emotional turmoil Mr. Darcy is meant to have as he declares his undying love for Elizabeth despite her perceived inferiority and flaws."
"Movie Elizabeth's delivery of her refusal is better." Oh, Tim is trying to die, Dick thought with amusement.
"SLANDER!" Jason yelled, slamming a fist against the arm of his chair and straining against the chains. "You only say that because she was styled to appeal more to conventional standards of beauty rather than historically accurate ones! Her acting used over the top emotion to make up for the lack of talent for subtlety!" Tim tilted his head with a picture perfect businessman smile, the plastic-fake expression as natural as walking to his little brother.
"You are missing the value of adapting the story for the benefit of the modern audience. With the change in societal norms and linguistic nuance, the effort that the movie put into the proposal scene though methods beyond just the acting allowed a broader range of watchers to understand more of the story."
"Making allowances for stupidity and ignorance is what causes the death of literacy and good storytelling." Jason shot back confidently. "That the movie is dumbed down to appeal to more people is just another testament to its inferiority."
"The purpose of storytelling is the enjoyment of the audience, without whom there wouldn't be storytelling." Tim didn't move, but Dick could see the small hint of smugness seep into the corner of his smile. "By showing the chemistry between Darcy and Elizabeth despite their argument, it draws in the viewer and makes them more invested, thus more likely to widen their vocabulary and expand their knowledge base of historical literature." Jason's upper lip curled in distaste, clearly upset that Tim got to mentioning that part of the scene first. Dick knew from experience that he hated it most.
"Bullshit. No one who finds that part the most compelling aspect of the story would find any value in intellectual pursuits." Jason replied. It was more of an insult than an argumentative rebuff, which is probably what Tim was going for anyway. "The series' proposal scene is truer to the original, had better acting, had more wit than the entire two-thousand-five movie combined, and did Elizabeth the justice of allowing her to rip Mr. Darcy a new asshole."
"The movie appeals to a wider audience through both its length and more conventionally understandable language, story beats, and intuitive cinematography. The proposal scene is much more climatic and conveys the turning point in their relationship in a way that the series simply doesn't." The statement was a little weak compared to his previous arguments, but Dick caught the way he drummed his fingers on the tabletop and twitched his ring finger, shooting a glance his way.
"Well, I think we can all agree on one thing." Dick chimed in, raising his left shoulder, which earned a glare from Jason. "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies has the best proposal scene because she beats him up."
There was a long pause between the three brothers.
"Yeah, that's fair." Tim said, fake smile and perfect posture melting away as he audibly tapped his left index finger twice. Jason's lips thinned, left cheek scrunching as his chin ducked downward, not conceding the point, but agreeing to move on for now. Out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw Bruce slump with relief.
"If you boys are quite finished," Barbara called through the speakers into the sudden quiet, "We were in the middle of something."
"Hrn." Bruce grunted in agreement, resting his knuckles in the desk in front of him.
"Exactly." Barbara took over the Batcomputer monitor, closing the tabs of Parisian heroes and villains while bringing the helmet cam footage back to the forefront, along with a passport photo of the woman that wasn't particularly flattering. "So, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of well-known bakers and classmates with Ivan Bruel during the beginning of Hawkmoth's reign, first person to be Akumatized. She was often found caught up in the middle of Akuma attacks, either helping other civilians escape or assisting the heroes themselves." Jason's eyes narrowed slightly.
"How often are we talking?" Bruce tucked his thumb under his palm and moved his middle finger in a circle. Jason's eyebrows rose incredulously.
"That's misleading," Tim piped up, "Eight times a week was the average amount of total akumatizations by the end of his supervillain career, but she was not involved in all of them."
"Hm." Bruce tilted his head forward and raised his heel while clenching his left hand.
"What do you mean 'targeted'?" Jason asked, an aggressive growl in his voice. Dick could read the concern for what it was, though. Oh boy, he really does have a crush, he thought. I wonder how many times he will try to shoot me if I say that makes him just like B.
"He means that Marinette's class was specifically targeted by Hawkmoth." Barbara chimed in this time, pulling up a class photo. "We suspected, and have since partially confirmed through court testimony, that he did so because his son was in the class, whom he suspected to be Chat Noir."
"And he is the one who's mother was in the glass case." He said more than asked, but Bruce nodded anyway. Jason's fist flexed in anger. "That's fucked."
"Quite right, Master Jason." Alfred said, appearing out of nowhere with a tray of after-patrol snacks. "I suppose one should consider it a good thing that he is imprisoned on another continent, otherwise he might be expecting a visit." He gave a pointed admonishing look to Jason who looked guilty for all of a split second before putting on a petulant expression.
"Like an ocean could stop me." He muttered.
Alfred raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't serious!" Jason quickly backtracked, raising his palms from his sides in a placating manner.
"I should think not." The butler replied, setting the tray in the middle on the table, equidistant from the three brothers, a sure sign that he isn't upset with any of them. Or at least, if he is, they all upset him equally.
"Anyway," Barbara continued, "With Ms. Dupain-Cheng's proximity and subsequent involvement in frequent supervillain attacks that, by nature, were varied and unpredictable all throughout her adolescence, it isn't too surprising how she managed to deal with the cultists so... spectacularly."
"She rearranged the entire warehouse floor without anyone noticing a god damned thing." Jason deadpanned in reply, "She climbed up a pillar carrying a gallon paint can on a string, in full view of the cultists by the way, and only got away with it because the man on watch started crying over, and I quote, 'the cutest fucking duck I've ever seen in my life'." Silence sat between the vigilantes for a moment.
"...Perhaps she's just really lucky?" Dick suggested with a half shrug.
"Hrn," Bruce grunted disapprovingly, to which Dick rolled his eyes. 'Luck is unreliable and no substitute for skill and planning', yeah yeah. It's not like we've heard that a million times already.
"Tell that to my evidence towards the contrary." Jason said, jutting his chin in the direction of Marinette's picture teasingly, but there was a bit of venom seeping into his tone that put Dick slightly on edge.
"It would certainly be the end of the world if the two of you agreed on anything." Alfred interjected, to which Jason's face twisted at the chastisement. Bruce didn't react beyond a twitch of his right cheek. Dick and Tim looked at each other, flashes of expressions and slight shifts of posture going by in seconds.
'He says that like anyone in this family would agree on anything.'
'Well no, we all agree on punching bad guys in the face, don't we?'
'Case in point.'
"Well, with that over with, I'll go ahead and continue the footage now." Babs chimed in, sounding about 47% done, 40% distracted, and maybe 13% amused.
"Hmn," Bruce agreed.
Attention shifted back to the wide-eyed and bewildered expression of the now named Marinette Dupain-Cheng, still holding her phone out to the side of her head with her mouth hanging slightly open.
"Okay..." she whispered to herself in English before taking a deep breath. "Okay. Vigilante. Raccoon. Trash. Raccoon in my vigilante- Trash in my raccoo- Vigilante in my trash!" She smacked her hands onto either side of her face, apparently forgetting about the phone in her hand before being promptly reminded via a hard whack to her temple.
"Ack!" Tim blinked several times as she rubbed the red spot and put the offending object into her purse with a pout, then turned to Jason and pointed at the screen.
"Can you confirm that this is indeed the person who you were kidnapped with." Jason snorted.
"Suspend your disbelief, Timmers." The woman on screen groaned into both hands dramatically.
"Okay..." she muttered, seeming to refocus herself. "This is fine. Are you unconscious?" She looked up and squinted at Red Hood for a few moments. Predictably, he didn't respond.
"...I'm going to take the lack of answer as a yes, since unconscious people usually don't talk." The woman said after blinking a few times, then tilted her head.
"Unless you can talk in your sleep, which would be weird..." She pursed her lips together before shaking off the thought, "Not the point, point is there is a sleeping vigilante in my trash." There was a long pause as she looked around the alley with a pinched expression. Her eyes held a calculating glint as they flicked from the roofs above, to the fire escapes and open windows, to the alley entrance and pattern of the remaining trash bags. For a moment, Dick could see exactly the kind of person that could bring about the end result that he saw not even a full hour ago. The kind of focused intelligence that he would see in Tim and Barbara when examining a case, stringing together a web of connections through leaps of logic and reasoning that even he would struggle to follow at times. The kind of comprehensive understanding of her place in the big picture that he could see in Cass as she would dance through battlefields and galas alike, achieving feats of grace that are only possible through near omniscient levels of observation. The kind of blank calculation that he would see in Bruce as he would plot his movements to end a confrontation in the most efficient way possible. For a moment, Dick could see the look of a Bat in her eyes. For that single moment as her gaze alighted upon the security camera, Dick felt a foreboding sense of Deja Vu.
Then that moment was shattered as an expression of absolute horror swept across her face and she whipped around to stare at Red Hood with eyes brimming with panic.
"Oh my Kwami, you aren't dead, are you?!?!" She nearly shouted, grabbing her hair and curling in on herself in distress.
"Pffft!" Tim didn't do a spit-take only by sheer virtue of his coffee not yet having reached his lips.
"Well technically..." Jason muttered with an amused smirk, causing a constipated look to flicker across Bruce's face. (Dick managed to keep his expression still through the flashing images of a bleak coffin, but only barely.)
"No no no, you can't be dead in my trash! Because if you are then someone will find you and know that I was the last person to see you and they will use me as a scapegoat to make everyone think I hid your body in the trash then Batman will find out and I will go to jail and be know as the stupidest murderer in all of history because what kind of idiot would hide a body in their own trash and then someone will go through and sell all my stuff and take the Kw-" She was cut off by a single, loud snore ringing out from under Jason's helmet. Dick watched as red creeped up her cheeks and the stress seemed to deflate out of her along with a relieved sigh. How she had any breath left at all, Dick isn't quite sure. Maybe she plays a woodwind instrument? Or runs in her free time? She is definitely very fit, judging by everything we've learned about her...
"Right... Pulse, I should check for a pulse before catastrophizing..." She muttered before moving to pull Red Hood the rest of the way out of her trash by the legs. Even with her apparent strength, it was a struggle to move his bulk.
"Who's gonna tell her that she wouldn't even reach the top ten most idiotic murderers this year for that? I vote Jason." Dick quipped, sending said brother a sunny grin.
"Seconded." Tim piped up in reply, earning a flat glare for both of them.
"I'll kill you both."
"That would just make you the only person left to assure her she wouldn't be the stupidest murderer around. She could help you hide our bodies, show her how to get away with it." Tim replied instantly, taking a sip of his coffee.
"You could make it your first date!" Dick added cheerfully, as if they weren't talking about his hypothetical murder. Bruce was stubbornly watching the screen and ignoring his kids, beyond letting out a minute sigh.
"I hate everyone here." Jason declared, before he glanced to the side at Alfred's pursed lips and amending his statement. "Except Alfred."
"Awww, we love you too, Jay!" Dick cooed, leaning forward and snagging a cookie off of the tray.
"Might I remind you, Master Dick, that such information may not be taken in the most positive light by a civilian whom you are attempting to court." The butler turned to Jason with his usual professional demeanor. "You would do best to save the more morbid activities until the second date as to not scare her off." The look of betrayal on Jason's face was comical.
"Not you too, Alfie..." He whined with a comical look of betrayal.
Marinette meanwhile had managed to leverage Red Hood out of the piles of trash and next to the dumpster, leaning his back against it with his head hanging limply. She took a deep breath and shook her arms a bit, but otherwise didn't seem winded whatsoever. Definitely very fit. A good thing to be in a city full of supervillain attacks, I suppose. With a sigh, Marinette looked up at the lenses of Hood's helmet before narrowing her eyes and thinning her lips.
"That is the stupidest looking helmet I have ever seen." She muttered, "Like if someone decided to dip-dye eggs with a Halloween theme." Dick was overcome with utter glee as he turned to his offended brother, opening his mouth to say something, but was cut off before he could.
"Dick, I swear to god if you say one more word you will be finding glitter in crevices you can't even imagine for the rest of your life." Jason's glare was 100% serious.
Dick mimed zipping his mouth shut. He knew when to pick his battles.
On screen, Marinette grabbed Hood's gloved hand and gently pushed up the sleeve. Pressing her thumb to his pulse point and counting a few beats with a small frown, she hummed in concern.
"You are really warm..." She muttered quietly, "Fever?" Looking up with pinched eyebrows, she raised one of her hands and pressed the back of it against Red Hood's helmet. She held it there for a second, before a blush bloomed across her face and she pulled her hand back with a cough.
"No one saw that. It's fine." She whispered to herself.
"Might I reiterate," Tim said with mild bemusement, "Adorable."
Jason grumbled something that Dick could have sworn sounded like 'I never disagreed with you'.
"Well, I certainly can't take off your helmet to check if you have a fever or not, so I'm just going to hope for the best." She said glancing around at her surroundings for a moment before side-eyeing Red Hood. "You better not be sick, though," She ordered with a poke at his chest. "I can not deal with getting sick right now. I have so much stuff to do." Heaving a sigh, she rocked back on her heels and stood up. She stared for a few long moments, an expression of something between blank and lost on her face.
"What the heck do I do now?" She muttered into the empty alleyway, doing another scan of her surroundings.
"Roofs are safer and I can try and find your teammates, but there is no way I can get you up the fire escape as myself. No offense, but you're like, massive, and I am decidedly not." She pouted for a second before moving on. "Trying to drag you through all the alleyways to a clinic or my apartment is just asking for trouble, but I'm also not going to just leave you in the trash..." She trailed off, chewing on her lip for a moment as she glanced back towards the door she emerged from.
"The office is empty, but there are cameras. I could... hm..." Many conflicted expressions twitched across her face before she seemed to come to a decision, whirling back around to face fully towards Red Hood with a determined glare.
"You better not be bleeding, I do not want to have to explain that to the landlord." She said, rolling up the sleeves of her cardigan to just below her elbows. "This is the only place I could find that wasn't chocked full of building code violations or had vibes so rancid Plagg wouldn't eat it. So, if this gets me kicked out, I'm kicking you." She emphasized her words with a forceful point and a spark in her eyes, then she suddenly stopped.
"Right. Unconscious." Marinette took a moment to consider, then shrugged.
"I'll threaten you later, when you’re awake." Dick couldn't accurately describe the menagerie of expressions flitting across Jason's face, but he knew his own once again held that very same shit-eating grin from when he first saw Jason in that warehouse.
"So... Did she end up threatening you when you woke up?" He asked with a glib voice. Jason only glared. Surprisingly, though, Bruce responded in his stead
"Mn." He affirmed with a brief clench of his fist and an amused twitch of his cheek.
Dick's grin grew wider.
"Okay." Marinette's voice called from the screen. "This is going to require some manhandling, so I apologize in advance." She declared before letting out a breath and maneuvering Red Hood away from the dumpster. The main view changed from the helmet cam to the security footage and she moved behind him, and grabbed him under his arms. Once again, perfect form. She even adjusted her stance for the shift in center of gravity, too. Not many people do that automatically. Well, not many normal people, anyway. Maybe there is a gym she frequents? With a fortifying breath, the woman practically bear-hugged Red Hood's chest and lifted.
"Oh my Kwami, how much do you weigh?!" she exclaimed in a strained voice, shuffling backwards to the door with waddling steps, Hood's boots dragging along the ground in front of them.
"Don't you use guns?" She panted, leaning her back against the wall next to the door as she tried to readjust her grip. Shifting one arm, she pushed down on the handle with an elbow.
"There is no reason for you to be built like a pro-wrestler if you’re just going to use guns!" Leaning forward just enough to stick her foot into the crack of the door, she hefted Red Hood in her arms again, back pressed against the wall and nearly completely hidden behind his bulk.
"I mean," Dick said as a second security camera feed appeared on the screen, showing a view of the hallway as she kicked the heavy door open as hard as she could, huffing in exertion. "She has a point, being big does make you a bigger target to hit." Jason scoffed
"Oh, yeah, I guess I should just shrink then. I'll be sure to get right on that." He replied, rolling his eyes and voice dripping with sarcasm. Dick couldn't help his soft smile at the response, completely lacking in aggression. Jason glanced at him.
"Shut up, Dickhead."
"I didn't say anything!"
Marinette shuffled backwards into the building quickly, racing the heavy door as it closed. She didn't make it all the way, though, as Red Hood's ankle got caught as it closed.
"Ssssnickerdoodles..." she muttered.
"Did she just say 'snickerdoodles' in place of 'shit'?" Tim asked incredulously. His question went unanswered (rhetorical as it was) as they watched her yank a couple times in an attempt to free the unconscious vigilante, but was unable to dislodge him. Instead of putting him down and walking around to open the door, like a sane person would, she decided to shuffle forward while adjusting her hold on Red Hood and stance, then kick the door.
"Oh no..." Dick said in dawning understanding, watching as the woman, standing only on one leg and holding over twice her body weight, tipped backwards. There was a resounding thud and a hefty 'oof-' as two bodies simultaneously hit the floor, Red Hood's massive form completely covering the small woman. All the vigilantes in the room winced, Jason most of all, rolling one of his shoulders unconsciously.
"Oh dear." Alfred said. Oh dear indeed... Dick thought. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he instinctively worried if she was still alive under there. He then reminded himself of the fact that this was a recording the outcome of which was already determined. And the fact that Bruce's brooding tendencies wouldn't have allowed her out of his sight if she had been seriously injured, no matter how intimidating having 'I am Fear, I am The Night, I am-' Batman insistently hovering would be for her.
"Hrnn..." Dick glanced at Bruce. Case in point...
"Uuuuugh" The muffled sound of a heartfelt groan came in through the speakers, the Bats all watching silently with rapt attention as Hood's unconscious form began to rise ever-so-slightly, then fell back. A louder, more drawn out and lamenting groan escaped from the prison of Kevlar and muscle, followed by sounds of struggle as the trapped woman tried and failed to extricate herself. Dick snuck a glance over at Jason. His brother's face was slowly being overcome by a fierce blush that he was fighting (and failing) to hold back. Channeling his inner Cass, Dick drew upon as much subtlety as he could muster and looked directly at the nearest camera. Only through his years of familiarity did he notice the slight flare of the lens as it shifted a few degrees in his direction, by his side, in the camera's view, he held his hand in the sign for p, and with a glance at his blushing brother, twitched his index finger. A second later, his phone buzzed in confirmation. Dick grinned. He will try and kill me if he finds out I have that picture... Worth it.
On the screen, a hand burst out from underneath Red Hood, slapping down on the smooth linoleum tile and grasping for purchase. All it succeeded in doing was creating a loud squeaking sound as it dragged across the floor, blending in with the high pitched whine of frustration.
"This" A vehement, muffled voice spat, "Is why I hate-" the grasping hand found the only thing within reach, Red Hood's arm, and threw it as far away as it could get(which wasn't very, seeing as it was attached and all). A second later, a Marinette's head shoved its way out from underneath Hood's armpit. "Thursdays!" she said the word as if it were a swear, and out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw a brief look of realization cross Jason's face. A movement from Tim drew his attention away from trying to figure out what the realization was.
'For his sake, I hope he showered recently.'
Dick held back a snort, but heard a growl from Jason.
'I saw that. Fuck you, Timmers.'
Dick didn't hold back the snort this time.
With short, labored breaths, Marinette braced her arm against Hood's waist, attempting to push him off of her. Due to a combination of the awkward angle and... Let's call it a mass disadvantage, she didn't do much.
"Worst day of the freaking week!" Trying a different approach, she braced her arm against the floor and attempted to lever the vigilante upwards. "'Oh, but Marinette,'" she said in a mocking voice, "What about Mondays? Everyone hates Mondays!" From the opposite side, her leg appeared, with great difficulty, and braced against the ground. "WRONG!" She shouted, pushing herself across the ground with her foot and lifting Red Hood with her free arm. Miraculously, she made progress, relieving her chest of the burden of over 200 pounds of crime-fighting justice. Partly, at least.
"No," she panted, resting for just a second, "Mondays only suck because all of the bad things over the weekend culminate together to smack you in the face." With a great effort, she lifted herself onto her free elbow and pushed. "Mondays are cheating!" She slipped, smashing back into the floor with an 'oof-'.
"You know, she does have a point about that." Tim said, contemplative.
"Mn." Bruce briefly clenched his fist in agreement.
Looking around as she caught her breath, Marinette's eyes alighted upon the shelf piled high in stacks of paper. With an undignified wiggle and much pulling, she pried her other arm out from under Hood and reached towards it.
"No..." Dick muttered, clearly able to see the disastrous outcome of this decision. Dick Grayson can't say he has ever been trapped underneath an unconscious man twice his size whom he didn't know, but he doesn't need to be a genius guess that pulling a shelf down on top of himself would help the situation whatsoever.
"It's Thursdays-" she stretched, pushing with her foot to get closer.
"Oh no..." Tim echoed quietly.
"That are singlehandedly-" her fingers wrapped around the leg of the shelf.
"Hrrn..."
"The worst!" She pulled. Hard.
Dick, Tim, Jason, Alfred, and Bruce were all witness to the exact moment of 'Oh shit' realization on Marinette's face as the shelf tipped, teetering on two legs as if frozen in time. Then, a single paper slipped off the top of a pile, followed by a veritable avalanche of dusty paperwork cascading down on the prone figures. Marinette screeched, turning her head to the side and scrunching her eyes to brace herself. For the first time since this all started, Red Hood moved. Whether from the falling paper, the sound of a scream, or just plain luck, his previously sprawled out arm came down, wrapping around Marinette's head just in time to block the single crate that slid off of the top shelf from landing directly on her face. In the chaos of fluttering paper and crashing plastic, the shelf tipped back and came to rest in its original position with a crash, devoid of contents.
It took a few moments for everything to settle, the boys all unable to look away from this ongoing train wreck. When it did, it was only still for a second before shifting as Marinette once again unearthed her head, but this time from a mound of paper as well as the arm draped across her face. She didn't make any further escape attempts, however. Instead, she just stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Why..." She asked the silent room, "Why does this always happen to me..?" Even if Dick had a quip in response to that, he would have been cut off by two cultists appearing on the camera outside the building, their distant voices drifting through the door still cracked open by Red Hood's boot.
"No, I swear I heard something." A man said. If it were possible, Marinette's expression became even more done. She didn't even bother trying to move, just resting her head on Hood's arm with a defeated sigh.
"Look- that door is open." From here, Dick could guess about what would happen next, so he got a moment to consider the parallels of this. Cultists walking into an office building's back entrance to find a random woman trapped under a sedated vigilante and a mound of paper looking dead inside, compared to what Batman and his brood were blessed with just a few hours later. As the door opened, finally revealing how Jason and the French woman managed to het kidnapped by cultists, Dick turned to his little brother.
"Well. She sure does know how to make a first impression, huh?"
Jason didn't have a reply, only staring at the screen with darkened cheeks, thinned lips, and wide eyes.
"I honestly don't know if I should be concerned or impressed." Tim said, "On the one hand, having been body slammed by you before, that definitely hurt. On the other, managing to make that situation worse takes pure talent."
"I do hope that Miss Dupain-Cheng gets any injuries she may have sustained taken care of properly," Alfred chimed in. "We certainly do not need any more people who disregard their own health in this family." Jason, after a moment, pulled a face somewhere between offended and put-upon.
"What did I ever do to deserve this treatment?" He lamented dramatically, flopping back against his chair.
"My apologies, Master Jason." Alfred said, completely unapologetic. "I suppose my time would be better spent elsewhere. I find myself in need of reorganizing my serving trays, as I seem to have misplaced one." Jason froze, looking over to Alfred's single raised eyebrow. Then he sunk deeper into his chair. I guess I was wrong about him being peeved with one of us. Dick thought. Should have known he would account for Jason's current mobility with the placement of the cookies. Really obvious in hindsight.
"Hhmnrm" Bruce shifted with a slight smirk.
Dick and Tim chortled with laughter as Jason's face burned crimson.
"Don't bring you and Selena into this, old man!" He shouted in embarrassed affront.
"Way to kick him while he is down, B!" Dick put a hand to his chest as he breathed in deeply.
"Would you like some ice for that burn, Jason?" Tim cackled. Jason had sunk so low in his chair that the chains nearly covered his mouth. Dick knew that for the rest of his life, Jason would swear up and down that he wasn't pouting, but he knew. He even had pictures to prove it, if the buzzing of his phone was any indication.
"I swear, each and every one of you is on my shit list." He said with a brief petulant look in Alfred's direction. Not at Alfred, though. The only person who could successfully glare at the butler was Damian, but he would fight God for a picture of a kitten and eight gummy bears, so.
"Language, Master Jason." Alfred scolded dispassionately.
"English, Mister Pennyworth." Jason muttered.
"Aww, cut him sone slack, Alfie!" Dick cooed, "He is just embarrassed about his cruuuush~!"
"The Demon Brat is now my favorite by default." Jason deadpanned.
"That's okay," Tim said cheerfully, "We're just glad that you two are getting along!"
"I will take him on a trip and commit heinous war crimes."
"Don't forget to take a sweater so you don't catch a cold!" Dick chirped.
"Hhmn." Bruce murmured, looking at Jason with soft eyes. The room gained a suspenseful sort of quiet.
'We will still love and accept you for who you are, no matter what you do, Jaylad.'
Dick held his breath, watching his once-estranged brother's expressions shift and flicker between a range of emotions, giving Dick a view into his true thoughts and feelings. Then that view slammed shut.
"Don't you have more footage to torment me with?" He asked, straightening out in his chair and face forming into a mask of indifference.
Dick let out a breath, a resigned kind of sadness prickling at the edges of his chest. He should be happy that Jason had been so open for so long, actively engaging with them despite his discomfort. He should be happy that Bruce told Jason what he should have years ago, before their relationship became so strained. He should be happy, but he couldn't help but wish for better things. I guess that is just like me, unable to find contentment with what I have. Always reaching for more and falling short.
Bruce and Tim quietly turned back to the paused screen, scanning it forward to when they reached the warehouse. Dick, though, couldn't. Something stopped him from looking away to give his little brother the space he so often needed. Instead, he looked Jason in the eye. The mask of indifference, the wall between and the rest of the family, it had cracked. Something, somewhere, somehow, had chipped its way through Jason's defenses. When the two brothers looked at each other, he could see through the mask to the lost and confused feelings swirling around in his eyes. He felt his posture soften, a smidge of hope brushing away the sadness.
'He does mean it, you know.'
Normally, he would never continue to push. A year ago, hell, even yesterday, it would lead to rage and violence. A lesson they learned quite harshly when Jason first came back. But again... There was something telling him it was the right thing to do. Jason didn't respond, only looking away and retreating into his mind to think, but that was okay. He knew it was the correct decision.
Something's changing. The delicate balance between Jason and the family was shifting for the better, he could feel it.
And he also had a feeling that he knew who to thank for that. Looking back at the image of the woman, tied up and sitting in the back of a mini-van, looking for all the world like being kidnapped was the biggest inconvenience that could ever interrupt her Thursday evening, he couldn't help but smile. Blackmail may be forever, but family is fleeting, and that makes it all the more precious.