conversations overheard through the batkid com lines pt 37 (masterpost here) (league days edition) (direct sequel to pt. 36)
Dick's voice, distant, coming from Damian's com: -with like, some roast potatoes. maybe some gravy...
Alfred, equally distant: of course, Master Richard.
Dick, delirious: they were tryna'- tryna put Tim in a bath.
Alfred, placating: were they now?
Dick: he does- he needs it Alfred. he's like a stray cat. he needs the bath.
Alfred, tired: yes, Master Richard. count backwards from ten.
Tim: i hope he drowns in his own fucking blood.
Jason: *snickers* he on that good shit.
Tim: Robin, are you coming back out or staying with Wing? i could use your help over here, it's kinda busy.
Damian: Father is staying with him, so i shall come back out. Batman, do you need any more assistance?
Bruce: not so fast. Robin, Red Robin, Hood; what happened?
*silence*
Robin: it feels unfair for you to do this when i'm the only one that has to look you in the eye.
Jason: sacrificed.
Damian, instant: fuck you Jason-
Bruce: BOYS.
*silence*
Bruce: what. happened.
Tim: *tentative* ...Nightwing got stabbed, i feel like that's self-explanatory...?
Bruce: *intimidating Batman voice* Nightwing was undergoing a routine takedown when he was injured so heavily that he has been forcefully knocked out to undergo surgery. do you three understand how serious this is? Dick is skilled enough that this would not have happened unless he was being sufficiently distracted, and you three certainly seemed to be acting unprofessional when i joined your line. so i will ask again. what happened.
*tense silence for 5 seconds*
Jason: ....talk about toxic,
Tim: -you really just expect Nightwing to be that skilled all the time-?
Jason: what, is he not allowed to make mistakes? talk about fucking pressure; that poor kid's expected to be perfect at all times-
Tim: -no wonder his blood pressure is through the roof- B you really need to re-evaluate your priorities regarding your children like come on,
Damian: *quiet snort*
Bruce: OI.
*abrupt silence*
Bruce, seething: i swear to you, i am at the end. of my tether. Red Hood and Red Robin, come back to the cave.
Jason: ...ok well no,
Tim: yeah not after that? what are we, stupid?
Bruce: *large intake of breath* ....ok then. we'll do this the hard way.
Bruce: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, if you are not in this cave within the next twenty minutes, then i will hire Damian as your personal secretary at WE, and every time you need something done for you, you'll have to convince him to agree to taking orders from you. Damian, if you do not comply with this, then Titus will be put up for adoption.
Damian: ex-CUSE me?
Tim: HOLD ON- HOLD ON?
Jason: *evil chuckle* oooooh, that's brutal,
Bruce: and Jason... *trails off*
Jason, suddenly gleeful: yeah, go on. tell me one single thing you have to hold over my head. i dare you.
*silence*
Tim, grumbling: s' some bullshit,
Jason: i'm waitin', B.
*silence*
Damian: he has nothing, i can see it in his face.
Jason: fuckin' knew it,
Bruce: -i'll ground Damian to the manor for six months.
Jason: ...eh?
Damian, indignant: WHAT THE HELL.
Bruce: unless you join us in the cave, Damian will be unable to leave the manor for anything except school, for the next six months. which means if you want to see him, you will also have to be at the manor.
*silence*
*more silence*
Jason, definitively: Ra's was right. caring about people is a weakness.
~burst of static~ ~fast forwarding noises~
Bruce: now; what happened.
Jason: *sigh* we were playing league days. goldie joined the line half-way through the round, so he didn't understand what the fuck we were talking about. my guess is he decided trying to get context was more important than not getting stabbed, so it's not really our fault,
Tim: -yeah, like when Damian was listening to a podcast during a weapon shipment raid and he ended up with thirty stitches. you didn't blame the podcast hosts for that, did you?
Damian: i'm gonna set you on fire for bringing that up- don't you flip me- FATHER HE'S FLIPPING ME OFF.
Bruce: can you two just- just stop. for once.
Tim: i can't be blamed for having high amounts of energy right now. i'm still reeling from actually winning the round.
Bruce: yeah- Dick was mumbling something about steak and pizza rolls on the drive to the cave, what was that about?
Jason: oh, i told Timmers here that if he fucked up the round then next gala hosted at the manor he would have to interrupt whatever speech you gave by riding the old antique bathtub from guest room twelve down the stairs while it was full of water. Dickie-boy was a little confused about what kind of stakes we meant, so,
Damian, absently murmuring: well he's dyslexic, we can't blame him.
Jason: exactly, he's- *abrupt wheeze* *cackles*
Bruce: ...*tired sigh* ok. i'm going to need you to go through what happened, clearly and concisely. can any of you, with your intense training under various detectives and experts, manage that?
Tim: i mean i don't know what you'll gain from this but ok-,
Damian: it is not complicated, Father. i believe Grayson simply became confused about the nature of the prompt.
Bruce: which was?
Damian: ...whether or not it is true that Grandfather's birthday gift to me when i turned nine was Jeff Harmening kissing my boot and offering me his personal pet iguana.
*silence*
Jason: Jeff's the CEO of Totino's, so...
Tim: i mean he's the CEO of General Mills; Totino's by itself doesn't have a CEO, it's a part of a group of brands all owned by the same company that Harmening has been running since twenty-sevent-,
Jason: oh WOW what a gleaming well of information you have there Replacement. such wisdom. it's so sexy you must be drowning in pussy-,
Damian: *wheezes*
Bruce, affronted: JASON.
Tim, flatly: ...you are no longer my brother.
Jason: *evil snickers* look B, it's not that wild of a story. back when Damian was little he went through a phase where he wanted to try junk food-,
Damian: -because you told me if i didn't then my immune system would be weak to 'civillian food' and withot a tolerance i would die the moment i set foot in a modern city-
Jason: yeah, whatever- so Talia told Ra's he had to be nice to Day for his ninth birthday, and Ra's doesn't know what that kind of terminology means, so when i had personal guard duty in his chambers he told me that since i was 'freakishly emotional just like the little runt' that i should just pick something for him to get myself. so i said, 'well why don't you get him Totino's pizza rolls, because he's wanted to try that for a while now and i just haven't been on a mission anywhere that has them', and Ra's gave this weird little grunt and then told me to fuck off and check on the donkeys or something; i don't remember.
Tim: -i want it to be recognised that i had to listen to this story for the first time from Damian, completely alone on patrol with nobody else on the line but Jason, who kept trying to drink his slushie while laughing so hard he was breathing in chunks of ice. i want praise for keeping my cool.
Damian: keeping your cool- no wonder your nose is naturally so big; spouting shit like that all the time,
Jason: *cackles*
Tim, offended: i- what? my nose isn't- B my nose isn't that big is it?! B???
Bruce: *gritted* boys. keep on track.
Damian: *sigh* well, on my birthday Mother was called away for a potential league uprising emergency and she needed akhi's personal agents to help her. of course, since they only answer to Jason, he had to go with her, and after promising to celebrate my birthday the day they got back, i was left with Grandfather. who apparently decided to hit two birds with one stone. he said that i was safer outside of the compound until Mother returned victorious and decided my birthday would be spent personally visiting my present.
Jason: *still struggling not to laugh* thing is, Ra's sense of geography was very outdated, and at this point Dami's like, hardly ever left the desert. only city he knew well was Nanda Parbat from when me and my buddies would smuggle him into the bars for an evening. so those two together alone in fuckin' Minnesota? trying to get a sense of direction?
Damian, unimpressed: yeah. it took us like, a while. eventually we got it though, which was where i found out Grandfather had taken Jason's suggestion way too seriously and bought me the brand Totino's, rather than a box of microwavable pizza rolls. he then to establish dominance over his new 'underlings', demanded the CEO kiss my boot.
Jason, absent: -and then tried to get you to-
Damian: -and then tried to get me to take his iguana, yes. which i denied. because Jeff was crying and i felt bad.
Jason: *snort*
*a long stretch of silence*
Jason: ...so, B. yay or nay? truth or lie?
*a beat*
Bruce: -huh? what- no, Jason, i'm not playing the game. the entire point of this was to get you to realise how dangerous getting distracted by these trivial little games is while on patrol. both for you and your brothers!
Tim: so you don't wanna know if that whole story was bullshit or not? i mean it's a grown man kissing your nine year old-
Damian, quietly: on the boot,
Tim: -which is objectively weirder,
Bruce: fine then. well? was it true?
Jason: ...oh we aren't fucking telling you until you guess.
*a beat*
Bruce: *incredulous* Jason-
Damian: he's right, Father. you have to play.
Bruce: i am not encouraging this-!
Jason: *tongue click* ok well, i'm just saying Tim actually got it right; so like, if you don't also get it right, we're proving right here and now that he's surpassed you in detective skills.
Tim, smug: yeeeeeeee~ bitch,
Jason: come on, what's it gonna be. yay, or nay?
*three seconds of silence*
Bruce, grave: ok that's it. this conversation is over. everybody go take off their suits, we're done. Oracle, you can stand down for the night.
*faint echoing boots* *disconnecting ping*
Tim, quietly: pussy.
Jason: *whispering* fucker's logging off so he can stall, he's just waiting until we go into the changing rooms so he can google who the current main investor of Totino's is.
Damian: jokes on him. i told my stocks and bought a boat years ago.
Tim: ...you did?
Jason, fond: oh yeah, i remember that boat. i lived on that boat for a while, y'no.
Tim: you were in the middle of a desert??
Damian: yeah i was nine, it wasn't a smart financial choice. it looked cool sat on the sand dunes though.
