Chapter Text
“I’ve been working on something,” Bruce said, after pulling into the Batcave in a rush, batmobile doing a bat-drift into the bat-parking-space.
“Here we go,” Tim muttered, hunched over some late-night cereal.
Bruce approached the wall next to the Batcomputer. It was only then that Tim realised there was something different about the wall - there was a sheet hiding something (he was sleep deprived, ok?). With a swish of his cape, he pulled it off.
“Oh my god, Bruce, is that-”
“Observe, Red Robin.”
Bruce had a corkboard. A little bit of red string, a photo of the park with a red circle drawn around the slide. Several question marks hovered beside it, with the words ‘PLAYGROUND – WHY???’
Tim groaned.
“The situation calls for a complete use of our resources, Red Robin.”
This was going to be rough.
“His gang escaped in under thirty seconds,” Bruce continued. “Minimal verbal communication. Efficienct.”
Tim sighed. There was nothing to do but play along when Bruce was like this. “They’ve practiced,” he suggested. “Jace probably has contingencies.”
Bruce hummed. “They knew the terrain.”
“It was a playground?”
Bruce nodded gravely.
Tim stared.
“Multiple headquarters,” Bruce proposed, pivoting.
“Possible,” Tim entertained, “but unlikely. His gang isn’t the brightest.” Tim paused to consider. “Except for those three,” he said, gesturing with his spoon to a file on the Bat-computer.
Bruce pulled up their bios.
“Carter Manning, second-in-command. Ex-marine and wanted for aggravated assault. Nezarin Akhtar, hacked into the pentagon as a dare, has tried hacking into the Batcomputer three separate time. And Finch Harris, former chemistry professor at Gotham U and charged for multiple violations of the Geneva convention.”
“If that’s for chemical weapons, then we are also in violation of the Geneva Conv-”
“Tim.”
“Sorry.” Tim paused. “You’re missing Larry,”
“He is not a concern.”
Tim failed to hide his smile.
Bruce began pacing. “Rotating command centres,” he suggested.
Tim uncapped a marker and dutifully wrote it beneath PLAYGROUND.
“There would be a pattern, though.”
“You don’t think there’s a pattern?”
“I think we would have heard rumour of it before. Or intercepted communications.”
“What if they are encrypting the messages?”
“Encrypting how?” Tim asked.
Bruce was quiet. He muttered something Tim couldn’t quite pick up.
“Did you say carrier pigeon?” Tim said in disbelief.
Bruce paced harder.
dulululululu!
“We are here because,” Jason said, exasperated. “The aquarium is free on Wednesdays!”
Nez raised an eyebrow. Jason pointed emphatically to the enormous banner handing above the entrance – free entry every Wednesday! Bring the whole family! - as though that were the problem.
“You can’t argue with economics.”
“I wasn’t.”
“We save eighteen dollars a head.”
Larry nodded solemnly. “I do like saving eighteen dollars.”
Carter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not to press more important matters, but did anyone see where Finch went?”
Jason whipped around. A delighted cackle echoed from somewhere deep inside the aquarium.
Five minutes later, Jason discovered Finch pressed enthusiastically against the lionfish exhibit.
“They’re magnificent.”
“They’re venomous.”
“I know.”
“They could kill you.”
“I know.” Finch sounded far too excited.
Jason sighed. “Meeting time, you maniac.”
Finch reluctantly peeled themselves away from the fish.
The aquarium conference room was, somewhat bizzarly, available for hire. Jason hadn’t asked questions. The gang sat around a circular table, Nez to his left, Larry to his right, Finch… somewhere, and the others scattered around. Matteo hadn’t come back after the park (probably for the best). Carter had somehow still brought a filding chair.
“Agenda item one,” Jason started. “Is, uh…” He got distracted by a fish swimming past. “Is that the Penguin shipment was moved.”
“The bird or the guy?” Larry whispered.
“… the… guy – why are you whispering?”
Larry shrugged. “Dunno man, seems weird to talk about business stuff around fish, yeah?”
“What,” Finch scoffed. “You think they’re going to report back to Ol’ Cobblepot? The guy’s not Aquaman.”
“Second on the agenda,” Jason continued, ignoring Finch, “is that we need more onions for tonight. Carter, that’s you.”
Carter made a note. “White or brown?”
“Whichever Mrs Alvarez wanted.”
“I think she said brown,” Nez said, not looking up from her laptop.
“Excellent,” Jason nodded. “Anyway, onto agenda item three: armed robbery.”
There were cheers of approval.
Ten minutes later, as the meeting was nearing its end, the gang had transitioned to wandering the halls of the aquarium. It was practically empty midday on a Wednesday, and the sight of the Red Hood and his closest lieutenants was enough to send any stranglers (mostly single, unemployed twenty-somethings) running. Jason was giving a run-down on Killer Croc’s recent movements, when he suddenly stopped talking.
He was staring into the jellyfish exhibit.
Blue light drifted lazily across his helmet. The jellyfish floated through the water in slow, silent pulses.
Carter gently clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Five-minute break.”
The gang dispersed without question.
Jason remained exactly where he was.
Watching the jellyfish. Carter stood nearby, not saying anything. Just there.
“C-can I help you?”
An aquarium worker had built the courage to approach Jason, smiling shakily. She had a small group of kids behind her. A class field trip, it looked like.
Jason unlatched his helmet. His white streak was stained blue in front of the water.
“The jellyfish are lovely today,” the worker continued. Sally, Jason noted her name-badge said. “They look happy.”
“… Yeah.”
Sally smiled. “You come here often?”
Jason hesitated. “Sometimes.”
“Good.” Sally said, and reached out an arm to, what, to pat his arm? She pulled back before she could do anything, however. “They seem to like you.”
“The jellyfish?”
Sally nodded.
They were interrupted by a tremendous crash which echoed through the aquarium. The water rippled, but the glass didn’t shatter. It was more… anticipatory. There were shouts. Jason whipped around, looking for danger. His gang was all accounted for, so there was no way any of them were to blame. Could Oswald, or Croc, have…
Jason froze as he realised the shouts sounded, more excited than scared.
“It’s Batman!” he heard a child exclaim. The cry echoed through the building.
Jason closed his eyes. “Seriously?”
Batman descended from the ceiling, Nightwing landing neatly beside him (with a signature somersault).
Sally stared. “… And, ah…”
She looked helplessly between Batman, Jason and the jellyfish. She turned to her field trip. “If everyone would please continue walking, I will show you to the sharks!”
Nobody looked at the sharks. One little boy tugged Bruce’s cape.
“Mister Batman! Hey! My sister says you’re not real! And she’s old, she’s seven, so she’s super smart! Mister Batman!”
Batman remained still. The boy gasped. “You’re so cool.”
Jason snorted.
“I’m touching the Batman!” the kid hissed to one of his classmates, who was hiding behind a fake rock. Jason waved at him.
Batman glared. “Red Hood,” he grunted.
Jason waited, but Batman didn’t go on. What was he playing? Jason spread his arms. “Welcome to mi casa!”
Nightwing took a look around, nodding in approval.
“Surrender your arms, Hood. You are surrounded,” Bruce ordered.
Jason did a quick head check. He was very much not surrounded. “I don’t think I will.”
“You are meeting in an aquarium,” Nightwing said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes?”
“Why?” Batman growled.
“Fish.”
Batman glared. “You keep using public places, endangering civilians.”
Jason scoffed. “There was hardly any danger here before you showed up.”
Bruce opened his mouth. Then closed it again. But before he could answer, several smoke pellets rolled across the floor. White clouds exploded through the shark tunned.
“Best aquarium ever!” declared the boy who was still clutching Batman’s cape. Batman pushed through the smoke, switching his cowl to heat-vision, but the smoke was masking even that. It must have been a custom formulation to emit at 98oF, the internal human body temperature. He couldn’t see anything. He could hear the chemist, Finch Harris, hissing orders through the smoke.
“Nightwing!” Batman called.
“I’m trying, but I’m working blind!” There was the sound of a scuffle.
When the haze finally cleared, the Red Hood was gone.
He wasn’t actually gone. He was in the penguin enclosure. Ok, not inside it. Beside it. One of the keepers unlocked a side gate.
“There you go, Mr Hood.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“See you next Wednesday?”
“Probably.”
Batman arrived just in time to watch Jason disappear through the service corridor. Mike looked to Batman. “Sorry,” he said, not very convincingly.
Batman stared. Mike shrugged. “He volunteers.”
“He what?”
dulululululu!
Jason pushed open the back door of the Soup kitchen carrying three enormous bags of onions. Mrs Alvarez looked up from the industrial stove.
“You’re late.”
Jason cringed. “I’m sorry, Mrs Alvarez, see, there was traffic and-”
Mrs Alvarez held up a hand. “You’ve never been a very good liar, Mr Todd. There’s snow on your jacket. You walked.”
“It was …” Jason fumbled for something, “Heavy traffic.” Bad fumble. Fumbled and dropped on the floor.
Mrs Alvarez looked at him for several long seconds. Then at Carter, then at Larry, then at Finch, who smelled faintly of sulphur. Mrs Alvarez frowned. The whole gang, criminals all of them, cowered in front of this small woman.
“I assume,” she said calmly, “that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
Jason considered lying again, but with how badly he had messed up already, he knew only the truth would do. “Batman.”
Mrs Alvarez sighed. “Again?”
“He keeps interrupting meetings.”
“Well,” she said, taking one of the bags of onions from Jason’s arms, “I’m not sure why he’s so concerned with the meetings of Soup Kitchen, but next time tell him to come help peel vegetables if he’s going to make you late.”
Jason failed to stifle a scoff. Mrs Alvarez raised a grey eyebrow. “I’ll have you know I’ve seen stranger things in my kitchen.”
“It’s not that,” Jason said, shaking his head. “I just imagine he’d be a very bad cook.”