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It was supposed to have been a quick patrol.
Nightwing had done a perimeter sweep of the city, discovering early on that it would be a quiet night, so he swung down to a nearby 24-hour restaurant and decided that he would treat himself with a small snack before heading back to the manor.
Only one employee stood behind the register when Nightwing walked through the door, but the hero was the only customer there, so there was no need for more workers anyway.
The cashier blinked rapidly upon seeing the vigilante and rubbed his eyes as if he thought they were deceiving him. "N-Nightwing?"
"The one and only," Nightwing said a little too casually as he looked at the menu behind the cashier.
"Uh—I—um—" the teenager stammered. "Wow, it's really nice to meet you!"
"Oh, thanks," Nightwing said, smiling. "Nice to meet you too. Now about my order . . ."
"Oh, right! Of course!" The teenager straightened, ready to take Nightwing's order, yet his movements looked sluggish, his eyelids droopy. Most likely from fatigue, but not quite. Nightwing could sense that something was off about this boy, but he pushed the thought away, wanting to wrap this up soon.
"I'll have a plain donut with chocolate frosting and a small hot cocoa, please," he requested.
"Sure thing," the cashier replied. He told Nightwing the price, and the hero promptly handed him a couple of bucks. The teenager turned away and began pouring milk into a cup, and though Nightwing couldn't see what was happening from where he stood, he heard it. A loud clatter and splashing sound filled the room. Nightwing moved closer to find that the employee had spilled the drink all over the floor.
"Oh no!" The boy cried, immediately scrambling to fix the mess. "I'm so sorry!"
Nightwing had been in the middle of saying: "hey, it's fine, pal" when an older woman exited a room down the hall and stomped towards them.
"What is going on here?" She screeched, her forehead wrinkled in anger.
The cashier jumped to his feet. "Linda, I can explain—"
"I'm sick and tired of your screw-ups, Billy!" Linda said as she stuck an accusing finger in Billy's face. "You've been nothing but a hassle for me, and I'm done with it! Look at you, causing a mess, you dumb boy!"
Nightwing stood there, shocked my the shamelessness of this woman to yell at her employee right in front of him like this.
"It was an accident!" Billy insisted. "Please, Linda. I've been working overtime, I'm the only one working the shift, and I'm exhausted! I just drifted off for a second! It won't happen again!"
"Oh, please. There are no customers other than this fellow here. You have no reason to be tired!"
"The place was packed just a minute ago! I mean it!"
"Lay off, will you?" Nightwing said in Billy's defense. "Clearly he's doing the best he can. And by the sound of it, you're mistreating him."
"Mistreating—!" Linda let out an indignant noise. "How dare you! I'm the best boss a little pipsqueak like him could ask for! He should be grateful that I don't throw him out of the building as we speak! Without me, he'd be dumpster diving, you know!"
Nightwing took a dangerous step forward and looked down at the woman. Even with the mask on, Linda froze at his penetrative stare. "Whatever the case may be, it doesn't excuse you to verbally abuse your employees and take advantage of their vulnerable positions. Do you even realize how quickly I can get you fired for—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a camera crew came running at him.
"What the—"
"You're on a TV show!" A man in a button up shirt hollered as he ran up to the vigilante. "My name is Johnny Quinn and you're on What are you Doing!"
It took a moment for Nightwing to register Johnny Quinn's words. When he did, he sighed in relief and cracked a smile. "Aw, c'mon. Really? That's messed up."
Linda and Billy—if that were even their real names—laughed along with Johnny and the crew.
"Sorry, Nightwing," Johnny said, not sounding sorry at all. "We never expected you to come to this restaurant where we were recording an episode."
"Well, I'm still kinda mad," Nightwing teased, crossing his arms. "I was totally invested. Though I had noticed that there was something strange going on with little Billy here . . . "
Johnny chuckled. "If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know. Now, Nightwing, please tell us, why did you speak up when you saw Billy getting yelled at by his boss?"
"Oh, that's easy. 'Cause it was the right thing to do," Nightwing said. "Duh. Anyway, does anyone think a guy could get a donut with some hot cocoa around here?"
Multiple people scurried around to fetch him his well deserved snack, and Nightwing found it oddly adorable. He hadn't actually minded being on the show. He had done what he felt everyone should do, but he knew that wasn't realistic. Many people were timid, or just selfish, and this show with its hidden camera did a good job of showing the types of people that were out there.
Nightwing stroked his chin in thought. He wondered how his family would have acted if they had been the ones to be on the show.
Oh. OH.
"Hey, Johnny Quinn. I think I know how you can make this up to me."
The next night, it was Batman and Robin's turn to go on patrol.
They were currently running in the direction where the cries of a child echoed from a distance. Someone could be getting kidnapped, or even killed. There was no limit when it came to Gotham. They found the source of the noise, only to find the anticlimactic sight of a little girl crying over ice cream.
"My ice cream melted and fell!" she whined, looking down at the purple puddle on the ground. A popsicles stick rested in her clammy hand.
"Sorry, kid. No refunds," the ice cream vendor not too far away from them curtly said.
Robin clicked his teeth and approached the vendor, pulling a couple of dollars from his belt. "I'll have one of whatever it was that girl had."
The little girl gasped, a grateful grin growing on her face. Batman stood further behind, wordlessly watching his son.
The vendor accepted the cash and handed Robin a purple popsicle. The little girl shyly reached out her hands to accept the ice cream, but her bright expression dropped at once when Robin unwrapped the popsicle and gave it a lick.
"Wh-what?" The girl said with a tremble in her voice. She looked as if someone had told her Santa wasn't real.
Robin continued to lick his treat. "Next time don't blubber insufferably over a simple ice cream. And be more careful, fool."
Batman sighed with disappointment, shaking his head. He tried to say something, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the little girl wailing into the sky.
Robin was unyielding. "You are only proving my point," he said coldly, and the ghost of a smug smirk marked his features. That was until he heard the footsteps.
"HI, MY NAME IS JOHNNY QUINN AND YOU'RE ON THE TV SHOW WHAT ARE YOU—"
The popsicle hit the floor with a mushy plop. Horror ran through Robin's veins as he maniacally bolted away from the cameras and shot himself in the furthest direction with his grappling hook faster than the Flash himself could have managed.
Johnny Quinn spun to Batman. "It's an honor to meet you Batman! The entire time, you've been on—"
"I know," Batman said, his voice low and deep.
"I—oh really?" Johnny asked.
"Yes," the vigilante answered. "The hidden cameras weren't actually very hidden. Also, it's clear that the actors were speaking loudly to grab our attention."
Johnny listened attentively. "Oh, I see. Wait, does this mean you watch my show?"
The small twitch of Batman's lips revealed a hint of hesitation, but he eventually sighed and gave in. "Yes. I love it, actually. It restores my faith in humanity."
Johnny Quinn beamed, ecstatic at what he was hearing. "You hear that, folks! Batman watches What are you Doing!"
Before they ended the episode, Batman quickly added, "Robin is not mean, by the way. He is actually a very sweet boy that cares very much about—"
The next victim was Red Hood, and this time it was during the day. He was leaning against a wall, idly inspecting one of his pistols as he listened to a child get bullied by some peers. They were across the street, waiting for the public bus.
And Red Hood was cracking up.
"Yo mama's teeth are so yellow, when she smiles at traffic, it slows down," one of the bullies said.
"Yo mama so fat, when she went to the beach, the whales started singing We Are Family," another added.
"Oh, oh! I got a good one," the third snickers. "Yo mama so ugly that Bob the Builder looked at her and said, 'I CAN'T FIX THAT!'"
The three children cackled, along with Red Hood.
The bullied kid clenched his fists and shouted, "just leave me alone already!"
The tallest bully shoved him. "Hey, remember who you're talking to, Jack."
"I don't care who you are," Jack said. "I want you to stop bothering me! And stop dissing my mom!"
The tall one didn't seem to like backtalk. With a frown, he pushed Jack hard enough to have him hitting the concrete ground with a yelp.
Red Hood's body language became tense. He lowered his gun, no longer interested in it, and closely watched the kids across the street.
"We're gonna go get some slushees, loser. Y'know, something you probably can't afford? So you better prepare yourself for a butt beating when we come back," the leader of the bullies warned. With that, they walked away to a nearby gas station.
Red Hood stood up, now sobered by the show of physical violence, and walked up to Jack, who glumly sat on the ground that he had been fallen on. "You're just gonna let them treat you like that?" he asked, putting his pistol in his holster.
Jack stared at him, wide-eyed. "Red Hood . . . ?"
The outlaw lightly knocked on his helmet. "Yep. You plan on answering the question?"
Jack scratched his head. "I—well, they're stronger than me . . . There's nothing I can do about it."
"Pfft. Yeah, right. Listen, if you put your hands in a fist and strike when they least expect it, you'll manage."
"Uh—"
"If that isn't your thing, then that's where bats come in," Red Hood said, offering a gloved hand. "And I'm not talking about the animal or vigilante. Do you play baseball?"
Jack accepted the hand, got pulled back to his feet, and craned his neck to look behind Red Hood. "Shoot! They're back!"
Red Hood looked over his shoulder, watching as the bullies walked out of gas station before they abruptly halted in fear upon seeing the anti-hero. He chuckled, turning to face them. "Not so tough anymore? C'mon, repeat what you were saying earlier. You're not gonna give him another push?"
The bullies seemed uneasy, but they were determined. "What's it to you?" The tallest one said, though he looked ridiculously short compared to Red Hood.
The other one chimed in. "Yeah, mind your own business, helmet face!"
Red snorted. "Helmet face? That's the best you got?"
The kid flushed with embarrassment. "Whatever . . ."
The third bully commented, "if anyone needs a helmet, it's Jack! To cover his ugly face!"
"Hah! no wonder he has no friends."
Red Hood had had enough. He stepped forward, causing the bullies to flinch, but he just grabbed their slushees and dumped it over their heads. The bullies stood in place, now covered in red and blue juice, shock written all over their face.
"Alright, I think you three are gonna apologize to my buddy Jack before he grabs his baseball bat from his bag."
Johnny Quinn and his crew rushed to the scene before things got violent. "Hey, it's a TV show!" the host assured. "My name is Johnny Quinn and you're on What are you Doing!"
Red Hood groaned, running a hand over his helmet. "Just my luck."
"Red Hood, please tell us, why did you approach Jack and defend him?" Johnny inquired.
"Honestly?" Red Hood said. "It kinda just irked me that the kid wasn't throwing some hands after getting shoved like that, you know? And messing with someone just because they're weaker isn't cool. You hear that, viewers?"
It was closing time when Red Robin entered a small café to get a quick coffee. Two girls—one who appeared to be in middle school and the other an adult—were arguing in front of the barista.
"You're just a little kid," the woman criticized. "I need it more."
"Well, this is going to be my first time trying coffee! And my birthday is next week, so I think I deserve it more," the preteen countered.
Red Robin walked up to them. "What's going on here?"
The two girl's didn't seem the slightest bit surprised by his presence. Just annoyed.
"There's only one coffee left since they're cleaning up and closing the place," the child grumbled, "and she won't let me have it!"
"More like you won't let me have it!" The woman said with a venomous frown.
The two girls looked at him, probably expecting him to intervene. He had a response, but not the one that they were probably looking for. "Oh. Actually ladies, I was wondering if I could have it?"
"What?" They both exclaimed.
Red Robin shrugged. "You're both arguing that you need or deserve it more, but I've been up since 4."
"Okay? It's only 8 'o' clock," the preteen said.
"4 AM," Red Robin clarified.
"Oh . . . "
"Well, I'm pulling an all nighter, studying for my exams. I'll be up for pretty much 24 hours," the woman boasted.
Red Robin cleared his throat. "Sorry, I should've been more clear. I've been up since 4 AM yesterday." The girls couldn't hide their bulging stares. "I've been investigating some cases and going on patrol and . . . and . . . man, could I just get the coffee, please?"
Instead of running to the scene like they usually did, Johnny Quinn and his crew gently approach the hero. Red Robin didn't react much when he learned that he was on What are you Doing, claiming that he knew something was up, but hadn't cared enough to investigate.
Johnny Quinn rested a hand on Red Robin’s shoulder and said, "boy, thank you for what you do for this city but, please, get some sleep."
Red Robin sighed happily as he took a sip of his coffee.
"What the heck," Dick muttered, pressing the power button of his remote to shut off his TV.
Damian had been shameful, Batman uninteresting, Jason surprisingly pleasant, and Tim just concerning.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand next to him and called Bruce's number. He really needed to have a talk with this strange family.
Did Dick regret it, though? No. Would his brothers try to kill to him when they found out he was the one behind the pranks? Definitely.