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The Batcave was oddly quiet for a Tuesday evening, save for the hum of the Batcomputer and the occasional metallic clang from the weapons vault. Bruce Wayne was seated in front of the massive screen, analyzing reports on gang activity in Gotham’s East End. His expression was the usual mask of stoic focus, completely impervious to the chaos brewing behind him.
On the cold, reinforced floor of the Batcave sat Jason Todd, Gotham’s black sheep, former Robin, and current wild card of the Bat-family. He was cross-legged, a small box of bullets in front of him. One by one, he picked up a round, tossed it lightly in the air, caught it, and then flicked it at his family members.
"Bang," Jason said lazily, flicking a bullet at Dick Grayson, who was across the room doing pull-ups on a steel bar. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off his arm, but it was enough to break his rhythm.
"Jason!" Dick barked, hanging from the bar. "Stop it!"
Jason grinned, plucking another bullet from the box. He held it up between two fingers, inspecting it with mock seriousness. "What? It’s not like I’m actually shooting you, Goldie. Relax."
"Bang," he said again, tossing another bullet. This time it hit Dick square in the shoulder.
"DAD!" Dick yelled, letting go of the bar and landing with a loud thud. "Make him stop shooting me!"
Bruce didn’t even glance away from the Batcomputer. "Stop shooting your brother, Jay." His tone was calm, almost absentminded, as if he were addressing a minor dispute about television channels.
Jason smirked. "Sure thing, B." He plucked another bullet, this one aimed for Tim Drake, who was seated at a nearby workstation updating the Batcave’s database.
"Bang," Jason said as the bullet sailed through the air.
Tim sighed without looking up. He caught the bullet mid-flight and set it on the desk. "Really, Jason? I’m trying to work here."
"That’s what makes it fun," Jason said, grabbing another round. He flicked it toward Damian Wayne, who was perched on a nearby ledge sharpening one of his swords.
Damian’s hand darted out, catching the bullet between his fingers. He glared at Jason with the intensity of a kid who had definitely considered murder as a viable life choice. "You’re testing my patience, Todd."
Jason gave him a lazy salute. "Bang, baby bat. Bang."
Dick marched over, arms crossed, pointing accusingly at Jason. "You can’t just sit there and—" He paused mid-sentence as Jason flicked another bullet at his chest.
"Bang," Jason said again, the grin never leaving his face.
Dick caught the bullet, grinding his teeth. "This is why we can’t have nice things!"
Jason leaned back on his hands, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You’ve been shot for real before. This is, like, the PG-13 version."
"You’re literally the worst," Dick muttered, tossing the bullet onto the nearest table.
Jason cocked his head, mock offense playing across his face. "Really? Worse than Damian? I thought he still held the title for ‘most likely to stab a family member.’"
"I’ll stab you right now," Damian said flatly, flipping his sword in one hand.
"Enough," Bruce said, his tone still even. He didn’t turn around.
Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly debating whether or not to test the limits of his father’s patience. He plucked another bullet from the box and weighed it in his hand.
"Don’t," Bruce said, still not looking away from the Batcomputer.
Jason hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and flicked the bullet at Dick again.
"Bang."
"THAT’S IT!" Dick lunged forward, tackling Jason to the ground. The two brothers rolled across the floor, Jason laughing hysterically while Dick tried to pin him down.
"Get off me, Grayson!" Jason shouted, still laughing as he twisted out of Dick’s grasp.
"Not until you apologize!" Dick yelled back.
"For what? Giving you free combat practice?" Jason retorted, shoving Dick off of him.
"Free—? That’s it, I’m calling Alfred!"
Tim sighed, rubbing his temples. "Please don’t drag Alfred into this."
"Too late," Dick said, storming toward the elevator.
Jason sat up, brushing dust off his jacket. "Oh no, not Alfred. I’m so scared."
"You should be," Tim muttered. "He has access to your laundry."
Jason smirked but didn’t reply. He reached for another bullet, spinning it between his fingers.
From his vantage point on the ledge, Damian watched the chaos unfold with thinly veiled disdain. "You’re all children," he said, sharpening his sword with exaggerated calm.
Jason looked up at him. "Big talk coming from the literal child in the room."
"I’m more mature than any of you," Damian shot back.
Jason tossed the bullet up and caught it again. "Sure, you are. That’s why you sleep with a sword under your pillow. Super well-adjusted."
Damian narrowed his eyes, gripping his sword tightly. "Say that again."
"Guys," Tim interjected, his voice tired. "Can we not escalate this? Some of us are trying to be productive."
"Then leave," Jason said cheerfully, tossing the bullet toward Tim.
Tim caught it without looking up. "I hate you."
"You love me," Jason replied with a grin.
The elevator dinged, and Alfred stepped out, his expression a perfect blend of amusement and exasperation. "Master Grayson informed me of yet another… sibling disagreement," he said, raising an eyebrow at Jason. "Would you care to explain yourself, Master Todd?"
Jason stood up, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. "I was just having some fun, Alfie. No harm, no foul."
Alfred’s gaze shifted to the scattered bullets on the floor. "You’ve certainly made a mess of my freshly cleaned cave."
Jason scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Uh… sorry?"
Alfred sighed. "I’ll let it slide this time. But only because Master Wayne seems otherwise occupied." He glanced at Bruce, who was still glued to the Batcomputer, utterly indifferent to the chaos behind him.
"Thanks, Alfie. You’re the best," Jason said, flashing a winning smile.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Master Todd," Alfred replied, though there was a faint hint of a smile on his face.
As the family settled down, Jason leaned against the wall, flipping a bullet in his hand. He caught Dick’s eye and grinned.
"Bang," he mouthed silently.
Dick groaned. "I’m moving out."