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“C’mon, Anita, it’s time for the team meeting!” Bart exclaimed. He half-led, half-dragged a puzzled Anita toward the main conference room of the Catskills resort, where a whiteboard was set up and waiting for them.
Anita raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t see anything on the team calendar. And since when are you so excited for meetings?”
“This one’s different. It’s a secret meeting!” Bart said, as if that explained anything.
As she stepped into the room, Anita took in the gathered members of Young Justice. They sat in a loose semicircle around the rolling whiteboard with expressions ranging from bored to amused. Kon slouched in a chair with his Superboy jacket draped over the back, reading a magazine. Cassie wore a slightly sweaty Wonder Girl tank top and exercise shorts, looking like she’d been interrupted partway through training. Suzie, who also went by Secret, hovered a few inches above her chair and watched the squirrels play outside the window. She was a cloud of smoke in the shape of a girl; her hair and clothes dissolved at the edges, becoming wispy and insubstantial. Cissie, their retired former teammate, and Traya, the Red Tornado’s young daughter, sat together with textbooks open on their laps.
“Would someone care to explain what’s going on?” Anita asked her friends. She grabbed one of the unoccupied wooden chairs and sat on it backwards, with her arms folded on top of the backrest. Anita was in a halter top and jeans; she hadn’t had time to change into her Empress costume before Bart dragged her to the meeting.
Cissie glanced up from her history reading and rolled her eyes. “Bart had an idea and he won’t let go of it.”
“It’s a good idea!” Bart insisted. He stood before the whiteboard at the center of the semicircle, wearing his red-and-white Impulse suit. “Now that we’re all present, I hereby declare this meeting officially in session!”
Anita glanced around. “But Robin’s not here,” she pointed out.
Kon gave a lazy wave. “He’s busy with Gotham stuff. ‘Sides, the meeting’s kinda about Robin. You’ll see in a sec.”
Bart clapped his hands together. “Right! Anita, you hadn’t joined yet when we held our last secret meeting. Traya wasn’t there either. We’ll have to get you two up to speed.” There was a blur of super-speed, and when it cleared, the whiteboard had a list written on it in Bart’s messy handwriting.
Why Robin is a Black Cat (According to Impulse)
1. He naps in sunny spots
2. Always lands on his feet
3. Likes to perch on tall objects
4. Hates water
5. Hides in the shadows like a void, then pounces when his opponents least expect it
6. Runs around at all hours of the night
7. Acts aloof and mysterious
Traya read the list with a doubtful expression on her face. “Cats’ fur colors aren’t correlated with distinct behavioral patterns,” she informed the room. “A black cat isn’t more likely to be aloof than any other kind of cat.”
“Maybe not, but Robin acts like the idea of a black cat,” Bart explained. “People have ideas in their heads about how different kinds of cats act, even if those ideas don’t match reality.”
Meanwhile, Anita raised one hand to her chin in consideration. “Huh. You might have a point about Robin, mon.”
Cissie groaned. “Don’t encourage him.”
“No, please do encourage him, it’s so funny,” Cassie laughed.
“Traitor,” Cissie declared, dramatically pointing her pencil at Cassie. Cassie stuck out her tongue in response.
With arms folded, Kon objected, “Number four is wrong. Rob doesn’t hate water.”
“Nuh-uh. Remember when he refused to swim in the pool with us?” Bart asked.
“You mean when you tried to dunk him into the pool in full costume, but he dodged and swept you in instead?” Cissie smirked.
“Pshh. Same difference,” Bart scoffed.
“I think this is called confirmation bias,” Traya said with the end of a pencil lifted to her mouth.
Suzie raised her hand like she thought she was in class. Bart magnanimously deigned to call on her. “Yes, Miss Suzie?”
“I’d like to add something to the list. Robin has catlike reflexes,” Suzie said.
Cissie bit her lip in thought. “Hm. He did snatch my arrows out of the air that one time.”
“Excellent contribution, Miss Suzie!” Bart scribbled an eighth reason at the bottom of the list.
8. Has catlike reflexes
“He’s good at squeezing into tight spaces too. Like my grandmere’s cats,” Anita remarked.
“Good point! Cats are liquids, and so is Robin.” Bart nodded earnestly and added it to the list.
9. Squeezes into tight spaces
Bart stood back with his hands on his hips and looked proudly at the list. “Great! Now that we have established Robin’s black cat-ness, we can move on to the next part of the meeting: experimental results!” He turned to his gathered friends. “Team, report!”
Kon gave him a sloppy salute. “This is S.B., reporting in. Yes, Rob likes head scritches.”
“What’s happening now?” asked Anita, feeling lost once again.
Cassie filled their newest member in. “At the end of the last meeting, Bart suggested that we all perform ‘experiments’ to see what other cat traits Robin has. He assigned one to each of us.”
“A positive result!” Bart cheered. “Tell us how you conducted the experiment, Superboy!”
Kon said, “Well, it started when I noticed that he was sleep-deprived again…”
A bleary-eyed Robin sat at the main computer, typing up a mission report. Two empty cans of soda lay on their sides by the monitor.
Kon poked his head into the room. “Dude, when was the last time you slept? February? You gotta get more shut-eye.”
Robin let out a loud yawn, then resumed typing. “Not now, S.B. Too much to do.”
Rob might have been one of the smartest, most responsible people Kon knew, but he was also absolutely terrible at taking care of himself. Kon knew from experience that words alone would not convince Robin to go to sleep. It was time to try a different approach.
He drifted over to hover behind the computer chair and began slowly combing his fingers through Robin’s dark hair. If he were in full possession of his faculties, Robin might have pulled away or asked Kon what he was doing. In his sleep-deprived state, he leaned into the physical contact, and his shoulders loosened a fraction. Progress.
Kon transitioned from combing to lightly scratching, gently running the tips of his fingernails down Robin’s scalp. A little shiver went down the vigilante’s spine, and his muscles untensed further. His head started to droop. After a few more minutes of relaxing head scritches, Robin’s fingers went still on the keyboard, indicating that he had fallen asleep. On his way out, Kon draped a blanket over Robin’s slumbering form and quietly closed the door behind him. Mission accomplished.
“Aww, how sweet,” Suzie said, clasping her hands to her chest.
With another blur of super-speed, Bart erased the whiteboard’s contents and replaced them with new writing.
Experimental Results!!!
☑ Likes head scritches
Bart pointed at Cissie with the dry erase marker. “Ciss! Mission report!”
Cissie sighed. “No, Robin is not afraid of vacuum cleaners. I don’t know why you thought he might be.”
Robin lounged on the common room sofa, flipping through what appeared to be case files. Cissie glanced over at him from where she stood behind the sofa, then down at her phone, where Bart had sent her a text message that read, “do it! u got this!!!” followed by several thumbs-up emojis. She let out a long-suffering sigh. If this would get Bart off her case, then she supposed she could indulge him just this once.
Cissie turned on the vacuum cleaner and started to push it along the floor. A moment later, Robin poked his head up over the back of the couch. “Thanks for cleaning, Cissie!” he called, yelling to be heard over the noise of the vacuum.
“If you really want to thank me, do a better job of cleaning up after yourself!” she replied. She could’ve stopped there, having proven that Robin was not scared of vacuum cleaners, but once she started, it felt wrong not to at least finish vacuuming the room. As expected of a location occupied primarily by young teenagers, it really could use a good cleaning.
When Cissie next looked up from her task, she was surprised to find Robin gathering up the snack wrappers and empty chip bags scattered about various surfaces. “You’re right,” he said as he tossed a handful of trash into the garbage bin. “Words are cheap. I can do better than that.”
She smiled at him, and together they tidied up the Young Justice common room.
Bart looked slightly crestfallen, like he was genuinely disappointed his teammate did not experience an irrational fear of loud household appliances. Some of his energy returned as he turned to Cassie. “Wonder Girl, how about you?”
“Wondy here, reporting in. Yes, Robin enjoys tube treats,” Cassie confirmed.
Cassie sat at the kitchen counter with Bart, kicking her feet and drinking a Go-Gurt. When Robin wandered in, seemingly lost in thought, she saw the opportunity and took it. She hopped off the kitchen stool, grabbed an unopened yogurt tube from the refrigerator, and waved it at her teammate. “Hey, Rob. Want one?” she asked, tone casual.
“Sure,” he replied absentmindedly. Cassie kept her face straight as she tossed it his way, a feat for which she thought she deserved an acting award. With characteristic agility, Robin snatched the object from the air without even looking. As he drifted back out of the kitchen with the snack in hand, Cassie and Bart exchanged a triumphant high-five.
“I don’t know if that counts,” Cissie said dubiously.
“No, it totally does! People call those treats ‘Go-Gurt for cats’, right? That means Go-Gurt must be ‘tube treats for humans’!” Bart argued.
Traya leaned closer to Anita to whisper, “I don’t think they’re following the scientific method.”
Anita chuckled and gave Traya’s hair a gentle ruffle. “I don’t think so either, kid.”
Suzie raised her hand again. “My, um, ‘experiment’ was a success.”
From her vantage point inside the air vent, Suzie watched Robin walk down the hallway. He had his right hand tucked under his chin, and his expression told her he was deep in thought. Robin didn’t spot the washable marker Impulse had planted on the wooden floor until his boot landed on it, and the cylindrical object sent his foot slipping out from under him. He let out a squeak of surprise.
Suzie tensed, ready to rush out and catch Robin before he hit the floor. She was happy to be included in group hijinks, but only if no one got hurt. Fortunately, Robin didn’t need to be caught; he planted one gloved hand on the floor and turned his fall into a messy backwards cartwheel, landing in a crouch. He glanced to his left and right, checking whether anyone saw his tumble. Seeing no one, he picked up the marker, dusted himself off, and sauntered down the hall like nothing happened.
It was, without a doubt, the most “I meant to do that” moment she had ever witnessed from a human. She had to stifle her giggles until Robin was out of earshot.
“Great work, Secret!” Bart declared. He added the newest result to the growing list on the whiteboard.
“That’s hilarious, I gotta find a way to get that on video,” Kon chuckled.
“How’d your experiment go, Imp?” Cassie asked.
Bart grimaced. “Well, first I put out a cardboard box, because everyone knows cats love boxes.”
Bart crouched behind a potted plant with his video camera pointed at the large cardboard box he’d left in the middle of the common room. Imagine using a whole separate device just to take video recordings; it was so retro! He got a little distracted playing with the settings on the piece of ancient technology, but he turned his attention back to the room when Robin strolled in.
His teammate took two steps into the room, then halted. He looked at the potted plant. Then at the cardboard box. Then back at the plant.
“Bart,” he said slowly. “What are you doing?”
Grife. How did Rob spot him? His hiding spot was flawless!
Bart shot to his feet. “Nothing in particular! Just trying out the settings on this camera!”
Robin looked unconvinced, but he let it go. “Alright. Are you still using this box?”
Brimming with excitement, Bart shook his head. “Nope! You can have it!”
Robin picked up the box… and collapsed it down flat. Bart stared uncomprehendingly as Robin folded the flat cardboard into a smaller rectangle. This was not black cat behavior. “Why did you do that?” Bart asked.
“I’m collapsing it down to put in the recycling,” Robin said, confused.
“You don’t want to sit in the box?” Bart questioned.
Robin shook his head.
“Not even a little bit?”
“Bart, is this a future thing? Or a video games thing? I promise we don’t sit in cardboard boxes in the past,” Robin said. He walked out with the flattened remains of the box, oblivious to the hopes he’d crushed as easily as the cardboard.
“So I tried another experiment with a can opener,” Bart continued. “Cats are supposed to come running when they hear a can opener, right?”
For the second time that day, Bart opened a can of tuna as loudly as he could. When the lid was halfway off, he glanced back at Robin. The vigilante was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a comic book, and completely ignoring the sound of the can opener.
“Robin,” Bart sing-songed. “I’m opening a can of tuna.”
Robin looked up from the comic with a quizzical expression on his masked face. “Um. Good for you?” His gaze returned to his reading. He flipped a page.
Bart resisted the urge to slam his face against the kitchen cabinet in frustration.
“Bart, I don’t know what else you expected,” Cissie said, exasperated.
Bart finished writing down the team’s collected results with a flourish.
Experimental Results!!!
☑ Likes head scritches
☒ Not afraid of vacuum cleaners
☑ Enjoys tube treats
☑ “I meant to do that”
☒ Doesn’t sit in boxes
☒ Won’t come running at the sound of a can opener
He frowned at the list. “Ah, grife, it’s tied 50/50. That’s not satisfying.” Then he gasped and slapped his open palm with a fist like he’d just had a brilliant idea. “I know what we can do! Empress, you haven’t conducted an experiment yet! You can be the tie-breaker!”
“Oh, no. No, mon, you are not dragging me into this.” Anita stood up from her chair and backed away, shaking her head. “This was fun, but that’s all. I’m not going to— to bait Robin with a feather toy, or whatever other idea you’ve come up with.”
Bart started to turn towards Traya, but Cissie’s protective glare communicated “back off” so clearly that he immediately pivoted right back to Anita. He looked up at her with big eyes and a pleading expression. “Please, Anita? Pretty please with seventeen cherries on top?”
“No,” she scowled.
He pushed his lower lip forward in a pout. His hands came together with fingers interlaced. “Pleeaase?”
Anita tried to resist, but Bart’s puppy dog eyes were too powerful. “Fine,” she agreed. “One experiment.”
That was how Anita Fite wound up in the hallway outside Robin’s room, holding a cucumber and arguing with Bart in whispers. It was two hours after the end of the meeting. Robin had just arrived at the base in the Catskills mountains, complaining about the Arkham breakout that had delayed him. He sat at his desk with his door open, tinkering with a gadget of some sort.
Suzie hovered near the ceiling, watching them with a look of mild concern. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered.
“Of course. All she has to do is sneak in and put it behind him while he’s distracted,” Bart encouraged quietly.
Anita gazed at the cucumber dubiously. “First of all, I don’t think Robin, a crimefighting vigilante and the de facto leader of this team, will be scared by a vegetable. Second, you know you shouldn’t do this to actual cats, right? They’ll think the cucumber is a snake. It stresses them out.”
“It’ll be fiiine,” Bart said, pushing her gently towards Robin’s room.
Anita gestured for the other two to stay where they were, then slowly crept down the upstairs hallway with a hunter’s silent gait. All she had to do was somehow sneak up on a vigilante trained by Batman himself. Shouldn’t be too hard, she thought sardonically.
To her credit, she made it all the way inside the threshold of his room before Robin reacted. He spun his swivel chair around, and she immediately hid the cucumber behind her back and plastered an innocent smile onto her face.
“Um, hi!” she said. “Hi, Robin. How, um, how was Gotham?”
“Full of crime,” he deadpanned. “Did Bart put you up to this?”
“P-put me up to what?” she asked.
Robin folded his arms and gave her an unimpressed stare. Even with the domino mask in the way, she could’ve sworn she could feel his gaze pierce right through her. Her resolve cracked.
Anita sighed. “Yes, he did.”
There was an indignant squawk from the hallway. “Snitch!” Bart accused.
Robin put his tools down and stalked out into the hallway. “Impulse, I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, but please stop roping our friends into your hijinks.” He glanced up at Suzie, who gave him a shy little wave. “That includes both Anita and Suzie.”
“But it’s for science!” Bart protested.
Anita leaned against the doorway. “He thinks you kinda act like a black cat, so he cajoled us into finding out whether you have other cat behaviors.”
“Double snitch!”
Robin pointed at the vegetable in her hand. “Is that why you’re holding a cucumber?”
“Yup.” She tossed it high into the air, letting it flip end over end, and caught it on its way down.
Further down the hallway, Cissie, Cassie, and Traya poked their heads out of Cassie’s room. “Did Rob finally catch on?” asked Cassie.
“Only ‘cuz Anita ratted me out!” Bart complained.
“You’re the one who roped me into this in the first place, mon,” Anita groaned. “If anything, it’s your fault you were caught.”
Drawn by the noise, Kon floated up from downstairs and hovered by the top of the landing. He leaned against the bannister, watching the proceedings. Robin took in the gathered crowd, and a playful grin formed on his face.
“You know,” Robin said slowly. “It’s especially ironic that Bart, of all people, said I act like a black cat. He practically radiates orange cat energy.”
“No, I don’t,” Bart said automatically. Then he frowned. “Do I?”
Robin began listing off traits on his fingers. “He’s highly food-motivated. Leaves hair all over the place. Brings chaos wherever he goes. Has lots of brain cells but uses none of them. Bart is a vocal, affectionate orange cat.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. “Whoa, Bart is just like an orange cat. He even gets the zoomies!”
“No, I’m not! I-I use my brain cells all the time,” Bart protested.
“I dunno, the Boy Wonder makes a good case,” Kon grinned. He sidled up next to Bart, put an arm around his shoulder, and vigorously ruffled his hair. “Admit it, Imp. You’re orange through and through.”
“No fair!” Bart yelled, trying and failing to extricate himself from Kon’s grip. “You can’t turn this around on me!”
Robin smirked like the cat that got the cream. “I disagree. Turnabout is fair play."