Chapter Text
The woman was frantic, wringing her hands as she paced in front of Dick Grayson. The high-profile gala at Wayne Tower was the last place she’d expected to find help, but desperation had driven her to approach Gotham’s golden boy.
“My daughter… she’s been missing for three days. The police—they don’t care. They said she probably ran away, but she wouldn’t! Please, I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Dick’s expression softened, his usual radiant smile tempered with concern. “Of course, ma’am,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Let me make a few calls.”
He stepped aside, pulling out his phone. Anyone watching would think he was calling a friend, but those who knew the truth would recognize the efficient precision of his movements. Within minutes, Oracle was on the case, cross-referencing known trafficking operations with recent activity. A quick text to Tim gave her even more eyes on the problem.
By the time Dick returned to the mother, his megawatt smile was back in place. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll find her.”
And they did. Twelve hours later, the child was safe in her mother’s arms, and an entire trafficking ring had been dismantled. The news reported it as a joint operation between the FBI and GCPD, but Gotham’s elite whispered among themselves that it was the work of the Wayne family’s shadowy influence.
When asked about it later, Dick simply laughed, his blue eyes sparkling. “I’m just glad the little girl’s safe. It’s what matters most.”
Vignette 2: Jason Todd and the Crime Alley Incident
Jason was just walking back to his bike, helmet in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other, when he noticed the black van idling across the street. The man leaning against the vehicle was eyeing a young boy playing with a ball nearby, his posture predatory.
Jason sighed. Not today.
He set the bag and helmet on the curb and crossed the street, his steps deliberate. The man didn’t notice him until Jason was right there, towering over him.
“Hey,” Jason said, his voice low and gravelly. “You got a problem?”
The man stammered, glancing at the van. “N-no, I’m just—”
Jason’s glare could have peeled paint. “Save it. I see you look at that kid again, and I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot in Crime Alley.”
The man tried to bluff, but Jason wasn’t having it. His jacket shifted just enough to reveal the handle of a gun at his hip. “You wanna try me?” Jason growled.
The man scrambled back into the van, shouting at the driver to go. Jason watched them peel out before turning back to the boy, who had stopped playing to stare up at him.
“You okay, kid?”
The boy nodded, wide-eyed. “Thanks, Mister Jason.”
Jason crouched down, ruffling the kid’s hair. “No problem. Go home, yeah? Tell your mom to keep an eye out.”
The boy beamed and ran off, leaving Jason to retrieve his groceries and bike. Another day, another reminder why Crime Alley would always be his responsibility.
Vignette 3: Tim Drake’s Park Incident
Tim just wanted a break. He’d been buried in Wayne Enterprises paperwork all morning, and the crisp air of Gotham’s central park seemed like the perfect reprieve. He had his coffee, his phone, and a bench in the sun. Bliss.
Or it would have been, if not for the group of men hovering nearby. He noticed them immediately, their poorly disguised glances and hushed whispers setting off every alarm in his brain. He sighed, rubbing his temple. Couldn’t he have one peaceful afternoon?
When they finally approached, Tim didn’t even look up from his phone.
“Michael Johnson,” he said, his voice casual. “Born January 17th, 1990. Lives at 315 West Monroe Street with his girlfriend, Sarah. Cute dog, by the way. Does she know about your gambling problem?”
The man froze mid-step, his friends exchanging panicked glances.
Tim continued, scrolling lazily. “Carlos Ramirez. Social security number 345-67-8920. Your sister just had a baby, right? Sweet kid.”
One by one, he rattled off their names, addresses, and incriminating details, his tone never rising above mild disinterest. By the time he finished, the men looked ready to bolt.
Tim finally glanced up, smirking. “If you’re looking for work, here.” He tossed a business card onto the bench. “They’ll help you find something better than whatever stupid plan you had today. Now leave.”
The men didn’t need to be told twice, scattering like cockroaches. Tim leaned back, taking a sip of his coffee. Maybe this was why people thought the Waynes were a mafia.
Vignette 4: Snow Day Shenanigans
The streets of Gotham were eerily quiet, blanketed in snow. Most citizens stayed indoors, but the Wayne boys? They saw an opportunity.
In the middle of the empty streets, an all-terrain Jeep roared past, towing Jason on a snowboard. Behind him, Dick cheered from the driver’s seat while Damian manned the passenger side, filming the whole thing. Tim, huddled in the backseat under a blanket with a thermos of coffee, muttered something about their collective stupidity.
“This is insane!” Jason shouted over the wind.
“Don’t wipe out!” Damian called back, smirking as he caught Jason nearly eating snow on camera.
Their antics were recorded by half the city, videos flooding social media within minutes. By the end of the day, #WayneSnowDay was trending, filled with clips of Jason’s snowboard tricks, Damian laughing maniacally, and Tim in the background muttering, “Why am I here?”