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Wayne Family Updates | @WaynefamGotham

The ENTIRE Wayne Family sighted at the San Juan airport! Looks like they're heading on a Christmas vacation. 🎄✈️

Bruce Wayne is an absolute fraud. Sure, Batman is a cool, calculating, warrior of the night who's always in control. But take away the cape and the punches, and he's a pampered-from-birth rich guy who's probably overstimulated and has too many thoughts running through his head to process a single one of them. Since this vacation is technically Batman work, he thought it would be simple. But remembering to pack everything he needed, making sure his children did the same, and ensuring they all got to San Juan on time was a surprising challenge. Besides, Batman couldn't get through a day without Agent A. anyway, and Alfred had stayed behind at Wayne Manor.

"Everyone have their passports out?"

"I can't find mine!"

"Are you serious?

"Just kidding." Steph waves her passport back and forth and flashes her tongue. "Damn, you're easy to fool!"

Jason extends a finger in the air. "Excuse me, there seems to be a problem with mine."

Half of Bruce's soul releases into the air when he sighs. "Jason, it wasn't funny the first time, and it's not funny now."

"I just don't understand, who is this Teddy Peterson character? I've never met a Teddy Peterson in my life."

"Shhhhhhh." Bruce hadn't known any of his kids when they were very young, but sometimes he feels he's not missing anything. "Keep your voice down. Teddy Peterson is you. You're a family friend spending the holidays with us while your parents work through marriage problems. Stick to it."

Puffing out a breath, Jason fans his face with the passport. "Gosh. Hope Mom and Dad work things out."

Meanwhile, Bruce fails yet another headcount. "Where are Dick and Damian?"

Duke points beyond Bruce, where Dick has one arm extended to punctuate his words as he walks ahead with Damian. His blood son, in a shocking innovation of human biology, is somehow in a worse mood than usual, and has been ever since he learned he would not be home for Christmas. Seems that Dick put himself on Damian Duty in an attempt to cheer him up. Bless his heart and his pursuit of things that will never happen.

"Cassandra, this way."

In a rare display of distraction from Cass, she whips around on a heel to stay at Bruce's side, without ever taking her eyes off her phone. She still hasn't fully accepted the fact that Barbara isn't coming with them and has made it her mission to send her photos and videos chronicling their entire cruise, from touching down in Puerto Rico to the flight back home. Barbara, meanwhile, would have fought Bruce tooth and nail about missing Christmas with her father, but it didn't come to that; they need Oracle at her station to help them catch their runaway criminal.

An unregistered metahuman attacked the CEO of Gotham's leading pharmaceutical company. Robert Sweeney, in typical CEO fashion, was more worked up over his stolen funds than the safety threat. Left mostly unharmed, his recount of the situation depicted the meta setting off a series of explosions before killing the power and disappearing out the window. The Wayne's have followed the trail of money to the San Juan Airport, where the entire place is under Oracle's all-seeing eye. Every social media post geotagged to this location is at her disposal, and comparing the post time of photos with security camera footage and the dozen malfunctions airport security has experienced today, she's narrowed the subject down to a male of average height in a black sweatshirt and camo-colored pants. He was last seen in the B-wing exit, entering a black vehicle, which Barbara followed all the way to port, where the only public vessel ready to board was the island's newest cruise ship.

Brilliant, genius Barbara, is probably not answering Cass's texts because she's on the phone with Tim, going over all these details once again. If not, Bruce isn't sure why he's mumbling to himself through the airport. When Bruce brushes his shoulder to keep him moving in the right direction, he shoots off the ground.

"Our driver just texted me; he's waiting at the B-wing. Jason, keep moving."

"Excuse me?"

"Teddy."

"Thank you." He glides past Bruce, running over one of his $1000 Dior shoes with his rolling luggage in the process.

Bruce holds his breath. Counts to three. Resists the temptation to call Alfred, as well as the other temptation to run back to his jet and leave these random children to wander around San Juan. He recalls what Rob Sweeney said when they questioned him:

"I don't care what you have to do. He's destroying my business. Bring him to justice."

Justice. That's what they're here for. This better end with their guy on his way to prison. If not, Bruce might bury himself in the Puerto Rican sand until New Year's.

"Brown, this is entirely excessive."

"Back off, runt, I'm on vacation."

Steph is working on her third gelato. As soon as she found out she can get as many as she wants with just a little swipe of her ID medallion, a monster was unleashed. She's curled up in the corner of a velvet sofa, her feet wedged under Tim's thigh. Tim, who was 100% gung-ho about finding their stowaway, fell asleep the moment he sat down.

"Well," Damian sniffs, "When you feel ill, I will be showing you no sympathy. You've brought this on yourself."

"Hey, Satan?" With his feet kicked up on the coffee table, Jason doesn't look up from his travel-sized book of crossword puzzles. He speaks with a singsong: "If you don't shut up, I'm going to call up Santa Claus and tell him to come kill you."

Damian snorts. "If you think I will ever fall for your stupid American traditions, you're even dumber than you look, Todd."

"Fine, don't believe me." Jason scratches out another answered prompt. "But when he drops onto the deck with a rusty knife, I will be showing you no sympathy."

WHACK.

"Owwwww."

Across the atrium, Cass is taking in her new surroundings by way of recording every bright color and loud noise to send to Barbara. Dick's in the bathroom, changing into his "vacation clothes." And Bruce has been at the front desk asking questions as soon as they were welcomed aboard.

Which leaves Duke with his hands in his lap and a restlessness he can't ignore.

"Bruce?"

"In a minute, Duke. So the family WiFi plan will cover eight people...?"

"I just wanted to know if you needed help carrying the bags to the room."

Bruce looks up from his conversation with, frankly, a very patient concierge. "The staff will take care of that; thank you, though."

"Oh. Okay. Is there something else I can do...?"

"At the moment? Not really. Why don't you go sit with your–" once again he almost says your siblings "–the others."

Duke turns back to where they're sitting. Without even meaning to he takes a step back, bumping against Bruce's elbow.

"Or you can go explore the ship."

That seems to be the only option. It's only a few steps into his new direction that he remembers to turn around and say, "Okay."

"Need some help?"

Duke has found Cass standing over the seat of an empty armchair, squinting in frustration as she props her phone against the back. At Duke's words, though, she lights up and thrusts her phone at his chest. When he looks up, she's standing with the ocean view to her back, a hand on her hip and a beaming smile.

"Take my picture."

He'd figured as much. He waits for her smoothen out her black miniskirt and waits again as she re-clips the white flower in her hair. Then it's picture time. Living in a house with two girls has gotten him pretty decent at playing photographer, especially when Steph has her bimonthly crisis about her Instagram page not being "aesthetic enough"– it's usually Duke who gets stuck helping her fix that. And Cass doesn't ask for much, but when she does, there's not much wiggle room for saying no. After what he'd call a pretty decent photoshoot, she's grinning even brighter than she was in her photos.

"Thank you."

A grin of his own works its way onto his face. "Yeah, it's no problem– I like helping. Are the pictures for Barbara?"

"Mhm." She's already buried in the blue-light, the text delivery sound chiming from her phone every few seconds.

"You... really miss her, huh."

A long breath pushes a lock of hair out of her eyes. Duke opens his mouth to ask her why; maybe Barbara's the one who makes Cass feel like she belongs here. Maybe he's not the only one who can't bring himself to sit down in that cozy corner, feet on the coffee table and wolfing down a gelato.

But whatever he was just thinking about is wiped from his mind by the metal club that nearly decapitates him. If Cass hadn't yanked him to the ground with her, it very well would have.

Duke gapes at Cass as their blonde attacker saunters away like he has no idea he nearly just killed them both with– "Who the hell still carries around a selfie stick?"

Cass sniffs what's definitely an expletive in Cass Language.

It's only after the adrenaline simmers down that Duke recognizes the stranger through his pale green Hawaiian shirt. That yellow visor should have been a dead giveaway, but when it comes to earth's heroes Duke always forgets this dude is one of them.

"Booster Gold?"

He whirls around, already possessed with a smile. "The one and only! What can I get for you guys? Pics, autographs?"

"Why are you here?"

His smile twitches. "Gold Rush Cruises offered me a paid partnership! A free trip if I vlog my experiences. Seeing as how I'm the golden hero, y'know?"

Cass's face sinks to such a deep level of unimpressed that Duke fights back a laugh. "That's– ahem– that's cool. Look, uh, we've gotta get going. Have fun with your..."

"Paid partnership," Cass finishes. It hurts to choke down the snort.

"I will! And hey, if you wanna be in my videos, don't be afraid to ask!"

Duke nods, his face oh-so-serious. "Will do, man, will do."

They skitter around him, dodging the selfie stick before rollicking down the hallway. They're so lost in snickers and whispered jokes that even Cass jumps when they nearly crash into Dick. Finally sporting the "vacation clothes", consisting of a pink polo shirt, khaki shorts and Birkenstock sandals, he looks like he was always meant to be here.

"What're you two giggling about?"

"Nothing." Cass nods in vigorous agreement.

He raises an eyebrow, but his lips trail into a thin smirk; Dick's always cool about the shit the rest of them get into. "I'm gonna go check out the pickleball court up on deck. You guys wanna come?"

Cass beats Duke to the punch: "What the hell is pickleball."

"It's like tennis! Baby tennis. I think. I dunno! But I wanna go find out. You guys in?"

Before either of them can answer, his voice bounces down the hall: "Dick? Dick Grayson?"

Dick has to be one of the friendliest guys Duke knows. The kind of guy who loses track of time chatting with strangers– sometimes Duke wonders how Dick is so damn nice. This is not one of those times. Because when Booster Gold drops his full name, Duke sees the cracks in Dick's smile and, for a split second, a half-roll of his eyes.

"Hey, Booster."

"Damn, you got big! Last time we talked, you were fifteen and wearing eyeliner. Wow!"

"Yeah, that–" Cass's definitely getting as much of a kick out of that as Duke is, because Dick's actively trying to not look at either of them. "–that was certainly a phase of my life. Uh, we're here with... family."

"Bruce is here?"

Duke barely knows this guy, but Dick's pained smile is all it takes for Duke to know it is not a good thing that Booster knows Bruce is here.

"Yeah, he's... he's pretty busy with work, though."

"Oh, like CEO stuff? Or..." His voice drops. "...other stuff."

"Uhhhh..."

"It is the other stuff." Booster lowers his selfie stick and for a moment, his phone lingers close to the ground. "I can help. What are we doing?"

"Look, it's nice that you wanna help and all, but..."

Duke rushes in to help Dick out: "...but you should enjoy your vacation. Work on your partnership thing. Leave it to the pros."

Booster frowns. "I am a pro!"

Dick sucks in a breath. The Nicest Man Alive is thinning away to a ghost, right before his eyes. "You're right. Thanks for the assist, Booster."

"Yeah, of course! Now, let's get started."

The trek down the hallway is a long one and a quiet one. Duke and Cass huddle on Dick's either side, whispering questions of what's going on.

"Booster's nice and all–" Dick hisses. "–but he's a clout-chaser, and the last thing we need is him getting in the way of a covert operation like this." Muddled in a sigh, he laments, "Bruce is gonna kill me."

His foreboding words don't extinguish the twinkle in Cass's eye. "Eyeliner, huh."

Dick grimaces. "It was a phase, okay? I was trying something out."

"I'm telling Steph."

How is Bruce already getting sunburnt. Armed with $200 sunglasses and some fancy herbal sunblock, yet he could still feel the Puerto Rico sun chipping away at his skin.

He sits tucked in a corner on the pool deck, wishing he hadn't left his sweatshirt in the cabin. It might be nearing 80 degrees, but at least his hood would have given him a little more protection. At his side, Tim squints at his laptop, looking just as miserable.

The sweat beads on his temple are nearly blinding to Bruce. "We'll need to watch the passengers. Maybe get to know them a little. His eyes trail beyond their shadowy corner, where Steph is trying to coax Damian into the pool with her.

"Bruce. Bruce!" Louder than any other guest would hope to hear, Steph yells from the edge of the pool, waving her dripping arms over her head. "I told you to watch me. You didn't watch me!"

She backflips into the pool. She's making the acrobatics look easy now. The result of a lot of practice. He flashes her a thumbs-up.

"Why don't you go sit by the pool? Just to dip your feet in."

"Yeah, that's a great idea with my expensive laptop full of sensitive material."

"Actually, yes. The humidity's screwing with my laptop." He rises to his feet and flaps a breeze under the front of his shirt. "We have room service, right?"

"Ye–"

"Awesome." With his closed laptop outstretched, he carves a path through the crowd and disappears.

"You look glum."

Jason is a sight unreal. Wearing only shorts, he straddles a stool at the corner of the bar, a dainty pink cocktail cradled in one hand. The girl beside him giggles under the rim of her glass, eyes transfixed on him,. Frankly, he looks like a poorly written fictional version of himself.

He's too far for Bruce to respond with words. Instead, he raises his eyebrow. Jason accepts the invitation, but not before whispering something to the girl that makes her laugh out loud.

"Can't say the same about you, though," Bruce comments when Jason is within earshot.

"I'm Teddy Peterson. And Teddy Peterson–" He takes a delicate sip of his drink. "–loves cruising."

"Who even served you? You're underaged."

"Oh, this? My new friend Bridgette got it for me. She's in med school."

"Well, you'd better not forget that we're on duty. And not only that, but you're also representing the Wayne family. This is important, Jason, and I expect you to treat it that way."

"Alright, old man, chill. You're the angriest guy on the Bahía de San Juan right now. Yeah, that's right: Teddy's bilingual."

"Is that so?"

"Por supuesto que lo es, perra, creció en Gotham. Jason might have helped him a bit."

Bruce facepalms.

"Now, if you excuse me, they're playing Little Women in the theater lounge, and I'd like to get a good seat."

"Jason–"

"It's Teddy!"

He doesn't look back as he downs his glass, leaves it on a waiter's garbage tray, and saunters off.

He should have just gone by himself. It would have meant missing Christmas, but half of them are miserable and the other half are having too much fun. And none of them are any closer to finding their missing guy. This couldn't be going worse.

"Bruce!"

Duke's frantic voice twists a knot in his stomach. Suddenly Cassandra is at his side, urgently tugging on his shirt. He dares look out, and immediately he wishes he hadn't. There's Dick, slicing x's in the air and mouthing apologies. And there's Michael Jon Carter. Booster Gold. Holding his cell phone out.

"Of course your first family vacation is a work mission. How can I help?" He follows Bruce's eyes down to the phone in his hand. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not recording. I was just looking back at the stuff I already recorded. So, what's the mission?"

Even if it hadn't been playing in the corner of his vision, Damian's piercing scream is all Bruce needs to know he fell into the pool. Now it couldn't be going worse.