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Dog fighting rings and puppy mills were more common in Gotham than anyone with even half a heart cared for. They were one of the more undisputed evils in Gotham, which, considering Gotham, meant it was one of many.
And, worse, they were extremely common in Crime Alley.
Which was why Jason, The Red Hood, was currently covered in yipping puppies like he was on a Buzzfeed interview. They were mangy, dirty things- the evil fucks who’d bred them had kept them in a single dog kennel, despite there being six of them. Jason didn’t know where their mom was- they barely looked two weeks old.
Said evil fucks were currently passed the fuck out behind him. Jason was half hoping one of the dogs would get out and maul them, but as much as he wanted to see the sons of bitches get their comeuppence, he knew the dogs wouldn’t be discerning in their maiming. He’d been in the midst of beating the shit out of them when he’d heard the pitiful cries of half a dozen puppies in a covered cage in the corner of the room. He’d opened the cage and promptly found himself blanketed in teeny tiny pitbulls.
Jason loved dogs, don’t get him wrong, but this was a lot, even for him. Animal control was an hour out, and most of the shelters in the area were A: Closed and B: Fronts. Fronts for money laundering, tax evasion or sickos (seriously, that shelter on the corner of Dubois was a worse rotating door for freaks than Arkham; no matter how many times Jason kicks out a degenerate, three more move in). Plus, he had to stay here to keep an eye on the other dogs and wait for the police to arrive. Police who were, at the moment, held up by a bank robbery that Red Robin and Nightwing were taking care of.
Jason knows who he has to call. And it’s not Ghostbusters.
God, he wishes he had to call Ghostbusters.
He and the family had been getting better in recent times, of course, but that didn’t mean he wanted any of the Bats in his face unless they were on an expressly stated mission. Which this was not.
Even worse, the closest Bat to was the one he’d just gotten on the bad side of.
He and the Demon Brat were currently at each other's throats. Which, well, whoever’s throat Damian was at changed from day to day, but this had been going for a month. It was, unfortunately, all Jason’s fault. He had pushed the kid off of a two story building, but, hey! He knew the dumpster was there. How was he supposed to know that the brat would swear revenge? Well, he did, but usually, Damian swore vengeance and plotted until a new person had attracted his ire. This was, more often than not, Tim, but they’d been unusually cordial to each other since the incident.
Oh, shit. Jason hoped they’re not plotting together.
With luck, though, this would make up for the Dumpster Incident.
Everyone knew about the youngest Robin’s obsession with animals. Honestly, with Jason’s suspicions of autism in the kid (seriously, someone’s gotta get him checked out. Bruce, too. Autism can be genetic, and no neurotypical does what Bruce does) hyperfixation might be a more apt name.
“Robin, I have a surprise for yOW, you little shit!” Jason said, clicking his com with one hand while his other, ungloved hand, was attacked by puppy teeth.
“If you are calling me a little shit, I do not think I want to see your surprise.” Robin deadpanned.
“Language, boys.” Bruce, who was manning coms since Barbara was out of town with the Birds and he was currently knocked out of commission due to three cracked ribs, said.
Jason scoffed. “Whatever, old man. Seriously, Robin, you’re gonna love this. Come to the warehouse on Trenton Ave, the ugly one that was supposed to be torn down.” Jason hoped Robin couldn’t hear the dogs barking in the background.
“... What’s the surprise?” Fuck yes, the kid’s interest was piqued.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t a surprise, would it? ‘Sides, maybe I don’t want B to- aw, aren’t you the sweetest?” Jason broke off as on of the puppies stood on her hind legs to lick Jason’s, fortunately helmeted, face. Who knew what sicknesses the puppies had.
“Ha!” Suddenly, Red Robin’s breathless voice came over comms. “If you’re where I think you are, Hood, doing what I think you’re doing, you were right to call in the Demon Brat. And, FYI, robbery is sorted out, idiots are in custody, et cetera.”
“Nice work, Red Rob-” Bruce began.
“How the Hell do you know what I’m doing?” Jason interrupted.
“Who do you think slipped those files onto your desk in your apartment, nitwit? Figured you’d want to deal with it yourself, since it’s in your ‘territory’ and all.”
Suddenly, the puppy who had licked Jason’s face yipped into his ear, making Jason wince and the comm ring.
“I am on my way, ETA `1 minute.” Robin’s smile was clear in his voice.
“No new pets-” Bruce’s voice began before Jason muted him.
The next moment, a quiet thump behind him made him turn. “Christ, that wasn’t one minute, brat.”
“Shut up, Hood.” Robin murmured as he half trotted to the puppy pile. The gaggle of dogs scampered to the kid, who quickly crouched down and allowed them onto his lap. “Tt, this is not protocol, where is Animal Control?”
“They were gonna be here, but got distracted by a rabid coyote in Grant Park. Would’ve waited, but I think the fuckers knew they’d been made ‘cause they started shooting the dogs.”
Robin inhaled sharply. “Well, I am glad you did. And the fuckers?” Robin said. A puppy gnawed on his hand, but he only laughed softly.
“Beat the shit outta them, of course. They’re over there if you wanna have a go.” Jason nodded to said fuckers.
“Good. But no, thank you, I am content here.”
“Alright, if you insist…” Jason raised an eyebrow.
“Well, perhaps some light assault. Only after the animals are sorted.”
“Of course.” A thought struck Jason, and he grinned under his helmet. “Say, Dames… what would you say to a new dog?”
“I would say that goes against Father’s express orders and would be extremely disrespectful to Batman.” Robin returned Jason’s grin.
“What would you say to six?” Anything to fuck with Bruce, anything.
“Hn… only until they’re two months. Then I’m only keeping one.”
“Yeah, right.” A smug voice sounded from the rafters. “That’s like Nightwing saying he’s only making one shitty pun, or Catwoman saying she’s only stealing one priceless artifact. It simply isn’t done.”
Red Robin flipped down from above, and the puppies were quickly dashing to him. Robin looked put out at having lost the attention.
“I have a proposition.” Red Robin said after he had gotten most of the coos and cuddles out of the way.
“What is it, Drake?” Robin grumbled.
“Names, brat.” Red Robin said offhandedly. “You can have all of them for the first two months, but after that I call dibs on the brown and white one.” Red Robin held up the puppy who had bitten Jason’s hand.
“Hey, who says you get dibs? Maybe I want that one!”
“Do you want a dog, Hood?” Nightwing said behind him.
“Fuck, ‘Wing, Hell are you doing here?! I invited the Demon Brat, not the whole posse!”
“Maybe I want a dog, too.” Nightwing said. The puppies, of course, ran to him next.
“You already have one, or is Haley not cutting it anymore?” Jason said.
“Hey! She’s Bitewing when I’m on duty.” He turned to Red Robin. “And, by the way, Red, I’d never limit myself to just one pun.”
“Figures.” Red sighed.
“She’s a lonely doggie, she needs a friend.” Nightwing pouted.
“She’d got a million friends, you take her to dog birthday parties at her daycare.” Jason regretted calling this in. If he’d known the whole Wayne clan would show up, he'd've just rung up a favor from one of the idiots on the force. He didn’t like it, because fuck the police-except-for-the-Commish-but-that’s-only-becase-of-Babs, but even dealing with the pigs would’ve been better than this.
“Who said any of you get them! I’m the one who’s gonna be raising them!” Robin shouted, dropping all pretenses about only keeping one.
“I’m the one who found them, brat!” Jason snapped.
“I literally solved the whole case for you, idiot, if anyone found them it’s me!”
Of course, all four of them descended into squabbling. Even puppies couldn’t sedate them when it came to arguing.
“I think you’re all forgetting one key fact.”
All four boys froze.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Jason growled. “Why the fuck are you in Crime Alley?”
“I had to remind you all that the Manor does not have space for another six dogs.” Batman said, wincing at Jason’s words.
“Father! It would only be for a few months, until they’re old enough!”
“B, how can you say no to these faces?” Red Robin held up the dog from before, both giving perfectly perfected puppydog eyes. The rest of the puppies, now bored of Nightwing’s snuggles, trotted to Batman. It was clear the excitement was wearing the poor things out, and they curled up in Batman’s cape.
Batman stared at the sleepy puppies for a long moment, before dragging a hand down his face. “Alfred’s gonna kill me…”
Robin, quite literally, shot to his feet. “So it’s a yes?” Jason had never been so proud of his brother’s adorable face. Bruce could never deny his youngest.
“Hrrnnggg,” Batman sighed. “Yes.”
Jason got the sense that if Robin was anyone else, he’d be jumping for joy.
“Thank you, Father!” Robin beamed.
Bruce’s face softened. God, Bruce was such a sap.
A loud groan from the pile of sick, animal abusing bastards made them all turn in sync. “Oh, fuck.” The sick bastard, who had just woken up, said, staring at them with unfiltered horror in his swollen eyes.
Jason cracked his knuckles. “Should be a few minutes before the police get here. Who wants to beat the shit out of this motherfucker?”
A chorus of fuck yeahs.
Jason half expected Bruce to stop them, but he, holding all six puppies in his cape and cooing to them softly (again, sap), turned around pointedly.
No one with even half a heart liked dog fighting rings in Gotham.