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The first thing Jason thinks to himself when he parks his bike is, this could have been an email.
Okay, maybe not an email, it is a real-life fight after all, but regardless, there is simply no need for all-hands-on-deck, like Dickwad had demanded. There is simply no need for any Bats or Bat-affiliates or crime-lords at all! This is clearly a magic issue, and magic issues are best taken care of by fellow magic users, preferably in some sort of back alley instead of a main road.
Unfortunately, a stray purple sparkle streaks right past him and through his (expensive, reinforced, intentionally-hard-to-puncture) front tire, promptly dissolving the tire into a pile of purple glitter. Jason is thus forced to accept the reality that he will be stuck here for much longer than desired, and decides to actually scout out the scene.
In the center of the road is aforementioned magic-issue. An otherwise non-descript woman wields her wrists like weapons, each encased with a thick golden band. She looks enraged.
Nearby, Nightwing is crouched on the sidewalk, hidden from view by a glittery, dented car, and all around the both of them, the rest of the Bats make themselves known, emerging from the dark streets like shadows come to life… sans one.
“Where’s the Big Bat?” Jason asks. There’s a crackle of static, but he can’t tell if it’s the comm lines or the very air around him, laden with powerful magic.
“ETA two minutes,” comes the gruff voice.
“A lot can happen in two minutes.”
Jason nearly jumps at the voice, taking half a second to glance down at the hero that had seemingly materialized out of thin air next to him.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Jason asks, continuing his scan of the situation. A magic shot digs itself into the dented car Nightwing has hidden behind, crumpling it like a tin can and consequently blowing the man’s cover, and their skirmish is renewed.
“All hands on deck,” Signal says, shrugging. “That means everyone, daylight vigilante or no, right?”
“Yes, it does,” Nightwing confirms, shouting from across the street. “So can any of you get over here and help me?”
So, of course, all of the Bats in the vicinity swarm towards Nightwing; Signal, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, Spoiler, and Orphan descend from their respective shadows, moving to cover the oldest. At this moment, the witch finishes powering up her next freako spell, and, within a split second, all of them are blinded by purple glitter and, no matter how much Damian denies it, Jason knows he heard Robin squeak in surprise, right before the whole world seems to go dark.
The Batmobile swerves into the road just a moment too late. Batman keeps fiddling with the comms, trying to get any sort of response, shouting into them even as he gets out of the car, taking in the glittery, but seemingly empty street.
“Does anyone copy? Oracle, are you getting any sort of reading on them?”
“Negative.”
Batman walks towards a crumpled car, hoping to find a witness who could tell him where the hell the rest of the Bats went, but as he rounds the lump of metal, he sees…
Kids.
His kids. All of them. As kids. His kids are actual kids again, sans Robin, who is seemingly still eleven.
“Magic,” is all the answer Damian provides to Batman’s questioning grunt. The rest of the kids are blearily blinking themselves awake, seemingly between the ages of nine through twelve; thankfully, their costumes have shrunk down to size with them. There are only two changes of child-size civilian clothing in the Batmobile, and there are seven children.
“Did you see where the witch went?” Batman asks, on high alert for a potential attack. Robin shakes his head.
“What the fuck.”
The tiny voice is warped very strangely through the Red Hood’s voice modulator. Bruce has to stop himself from a chastising ‘language’.
“Oh my god, we’re tiny,” Dick says. Tim blinks, looking confused and exhausted; he’s once again built like a twig, looking like a particularly forceful sigh in his general direction would blow him halfway across the world. Cass, Steph, and Duke are ultimately unreadable, thanks to the masks obscuring most or all of their faces. Everyone, save for Dick and Jason, seems to be uniquely shy in comparison to their grown selves.
“We should get to the Cave,” Bruce decides. “This version of the Batmobile should have room for all of you.”
There’s a chorus of generally affirmative sounds and responses, and the seven kids follow behind the Bat like a fleet of ducklings, headed for the Batmobile. Bruce, however, keeps having to glance behind himself to reassure himself that none of the kids have run off or been snatched up; having them follow behind his line of sight is not easy on the mind. He pauses in the middle of the road abruptly.
“Stay where I can see you,” he states simply. His fleet of baby bats swarm to stand in front of him, save for Jason and Damian.
“All of you,” Bruce says. There is a moment of mild protest and grumbling before the other two walk to the front of the group, and begin their little parade towards the car.
Piling in is impressively easy; Bruce should pat himself on the back for having the foresight to bring the more spacious Batmobile to the all-hands-on-deck call. Damian insists that he sit in the passenger seat, despite Dick and Jason’s arguing. The rest of the group remains nearly concerningly quiet.
It is at this incredibly inopportune moment that Superman decides to reach out to Batman.
“Batman,” he says, his voice blaring out over the car speakers. Bruce grunts in response.
“Do you need something?” he asks.
“We have a situation,” Kal says. “A magic situation; Zatanna is taking care of most it, but there’s all this paperwork— some sort of intergalactic treaty, and an alien witch escaped from prison. We need you to zeta up and sign some forms.”
“Mail them.”
“We need to get this done now, B,” Kal insists. “The witch was just in your city, surely you’ve seen how much damage she can cause.”
Bruce grunts. Thankfully, Kal is mostly fluent in Bat-speak, and is able to interpret the affirmative undertone.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll see you at the Watchtower.”
So there is now a new problem.
Bruce’s kids, despite seeming to have retained their adult memory, have not only been turned into children, but have also developed child-like energy and emotional regulation. Bruce glances at the backseat; Dick is practically vibrating out of his skin already, fidgety and not at all comfortable sitting like a normal human. Jason’s face is hidden, so only his body language betrays his grumpiness and discomfort. He kicks at Damian’s seat for no reason other than to be annoying. Duke has removed his helmet and looks to be on the verge of a tearful panic attack. Tim… fell asleep. Steph is leaning in conspiritorially to whisper to Dick and Jason, and Cass is staring dead into Bruce’s face, sitting completely still.
And, somehow, Bruce has to get to the Watchtower to sign these papers. This leaves him with two options:
- Leave the kids with Alfred (terrible idea— though Bruce has no doubt Alfred could school all of them into behaving, it is simply inhumane and immoral to dump an entire family of baby Bats onto anyone with no additional help)
- Bring the kids with him (they may wreak havoc upon the Watchtower)
Bruce sighs. While he weighed his options, the conspiratorial whispering devolved into a full-blown argument over cereal and Serendipity (2001). Tim has been shaken awake and has joined Duke in the club for kids who look like they’re about to burst into tears. Dick unbuckles his seatbelt and stands, ready to lunge for Stephanie—
“Bats,” Bruce says, raising his voice slightly. “Kids, listen. Dick, stop that— everybody listen.”
The kids hesitantly pause their mischief.
“I need to go sign a few papers at the Watchtower. You are all coming with me.” Jason, Steph, and Dick seem to light up at the statement, troublesome plans visibly brewing within their little minds. Bruce frowns.
“The Justice League has very little knowledge about the Bats and Bat-affiliates as a whole,” he continues. “My co-workers have a very blurry idea of who I am and who I associate with, and I have no desire to sharpen that idea in any way. You will all be staying in the cape; you will not leave the cape; you will not speak unless spoken to, and you will not allow the Justice League to see you. Within the cape, you will be unable to be affected by Superman’s x-ray vision and J'onn’s telepathy. Does everyone understand?”
A series of uncertain and reluctant nods is made. Bruce steps on the gas, headed for the Cave, and for some reason, when he piles all of them into the safety of the cape, using his hands to pin it shut and prevent any unwanted escapes, he feels as though something is about to go horribly wrong.
The Watchtower meeting room is full, and Bruce is able to stride in confidently, giving no clues whatsoever as to why he’s particularly shadowy today.
“The witch is an alien,” Diana is explaining to him. “She was released from her intergalactic prison due to a miscommunication regarding ourselves, her alien race, and the other alien race responsible for running the prison; we just need everyone to sign these papers. Once they’re submitted and she’s returned to the prison, her powers will be restricted again, undoing all of the spells she’s cast since her release.”
And my kids will no longer be the pint-sized terrors of Gotham’s night, Bruce thinks to himself thankfully.
The Flash runs over to grab the papers and get them to Batman.
This spurs a very specific, terrible moment into action, which seems to play out in slow-motion: Bruce reaching out to grab the paper; the cape opening up just the slightest bit; Cass poking her head out of curiosity; and Dick, the little monster, seeing the light in the darkness and leaping towards it.
“Oh, no,” Bruce mutters, eyes widening as he watches his oldest somersault out of the cape with a flourish. Jason follows, running out from the darkness. Damian, though he was shoved out of the cape by Jason’s escape, dutifully stays in place at Batman’s side, glaring out at the unfolding madness; Duke pokes his head out, but ultimately shields himself with the cape, going back to his hiding.
“No, no no no no,” Bruce whispers, his voice gradually increasing in volume when he sees Tim running out, Stephanie perched on his shoulders. Cass has climbed up Bruce’s arm, which is still gripping the papers, and is making her way up his shoulder, grabbing for the ears of his cowl.
“No!” he commands, lunging for Tim, who sqwaks indignantly at his capture. The papers are scattered on the floor in the process, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s successfully re-captured one of the kids, dragging Tim back into the cape. Stephanie, unfortunately, takes the opportunity to vault herself away from Tim’s shoulders and run off with Dick and Jason.
“What. The hell,” Flash says, staring at the small group of kids as they promptly turn the room into (and its heroes) their own personal jungle gym.
“My kids!” Bruce exclaims, running after Dick first; out of all of them, Dick is the most likely to find a way to get onto the ceiling, and then it’ll be impossible to get him down again. Behind him, Damian surveils the situation, and opts to chase after Jason, who is making a beeline to the general direction of Wonder Woman.
“Your kids?” Superman asks, glancing around the room as quickly as possible, trying to gauge what exactly is happening.
“You actually have kids?” Wonder Woman asks, as though said kids weren’t wreaking havoc on the meeting room right in front of her very eyes.
“I thought Robin was an urban legend!” Green Lantern exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. As he says this, Damian dashes by, purposefully stepping on the man’s feet as though to say I am not an urban legend, before swerving to chase Jason again. In doing so, he runs by Bruce with a whoosh, accidentally flipping the cape up just enough to free Tim. Duke, like Cass, is too shy to join the madness, and firmly settles himself within the cape once again. Cass, meanwhile, is now sat on Bruce’s shoulders, both hands gripping the respective ears of the cowl.
“You’ve met Robin more than once!” Superman argues. “All of us have, but… I mean, I figured they were volunteers or something, not B’s actual kids.”
“I still can’t believe he has kids,” Flash says again, watching Tim make a break for the control center. Batman, however, has shifted his attention from Dick to Tim, fully aware of who is more likely to take virtual control of the Watchtower when given the opportunity, and is able to grab him before the boy gets very far. No longer the sole object of Batman’s attention, Dick runs across the room to scale up onto Superman’s shoulders, much to the man’s surprise. Batman tugs Tim along with one arm, the other reaching to quick-release his cape.
“Hold this,” he says, pushing it into Wally’s hands and then directing him to hold it out, turning it into what almost looks like a portal into an endless black void. Duke pokes his head out from… somewhere. In the void.
“Holy— that’s a real void,” Hal mutters. “Spooky’s been wearing a real void on his shoulders this whole time—”
“Stay,” Bruce commands, depositing Tim into the void with Duke. Wally remains where he is, holding up the void, looking incredibly confused. Just then, Damian appears with a successfully apprehended Jason, and tosses him carelessly in with the other two; Bruce, now on the sole mission of getting everyone back under the cape, where they belong, promptly places both Damian and Cass into the void, and then is off to capture Stephanie.
Stephanie, who has been tasked with helping Dick get to the ceiling light, after Dick removed himself from Superman, who seemed to be on the verge of joining Bruce on the capture-the-kids mission.
Dick jumps up from her shoulders, sucessfully grabbing onto the completely smooth light with no holds (acrobatics training only gets you so far; either this kid is secretly a meta or he’s gotten his hands on some really sticky candy recently).
Bruce snatches Stephanie off the table and squirrels her into the void, and is then forced to capture the most difficult of them all: Dick.
He starts by standing on the table and jumping up to try to grab the unruly child. Dick swiftly dodges the attempt, grinning madly.
“Nightwing, get back in the cape,” Bruce says, keeping his voice flat and stern. Dick laughs, reaching out to grab the rim of the light and start climbing around its perimeter like some sort of enormous mono-monkey bar.
“Nightwing. Get. In. The cape,” Bruce commands, pointing at the void, still held up by Wally.
“Dick,” Bruce says, deciding to call the kid by his name. Dick ignores him, continuing his quest of circling the enormous ceiling light for no apparent reason other than to give Bruce twice as many gray hairs as he’s currently sporting.
“Richard John Grayson, if you don’t get off the ceiling light and back into the cape by the count of three, I will revoke your Alfred-cookie privileges, or so help me—”
“Fine!” the kid squeals, swinging off of the light and doing a mid-air flip before landing on Hal’s head, using it to kick off and launch himself into the cape void. The little figure is swallowed up in the darkness, at last secured with the rest of the kids.
Bruce sighs in relief, seeing all seven kids poke their heads up from the cape. He walks over to Wally with the gait and posture of a defeated, worn-down father, grabbing the edges of the cape and wrapping it around his person, securing himself into the dark fabric and ensuring that there are no gaps from which children can escape.
“I will sign the papers after their bedtime,” he says curtly, sharply turning away from the stunned group of heroes and marching towards the exit of the meeting room, slipping through the cracked door like a slick of black oil, taking with him the many quiet murmurings of the children in the cape.
With the Bats gone, the room falls silent.
“I really didn’t think he was actually a dad,” Hal mutters, rubbing the sore spot on his head from where Dick had launched himself only moments prior.
“It explains… some things,” Diana says.
“And it raises far more things to be explained,” Wally retorts. “First of all, it doesn’t even begin to explain why he has a VOID for a CAPE. How can he fit all of those ex-Robins in there? And seriously, more than half of those kids have been Robin, we’ve met all of them. Does he only adopt kids so he can have more Robins? And the kids must be adopted, since they’re all the same age—”
“Only one is biologically mine, and I’m not telling who,” comes a familiar voice from the nearest dark corner. Hal jumps, and Batman swans in, minus the cape. “They’re all very different ages, but they were hit by a spell by the escaped alien witch. I’ll sign the papers and we can put this whole mess behind us.”
“I thought you said you weren’t coming back until after their bedtime?” Hal asks.
“They are in bed now. So, bedtime.”
“...are they still in your cape?”
“They are in bed.”
“Is the bed in your cape? Is your cape the bed? We have questions, Spooky.”
“They are in bed. Give me the papers.”