You and Dick run through Wayne Manor with Jason's clothes. A naked Jason chases after, only to be stopped by Bruce and thrown over his shoulder. This reminds Bruce that Jason needs a bath and takes him upstairs while you and Dick are cackling.
The frantic patter of bare feet on polished hardwood echoed through the cavernous halls of Wayne Manor. I glanced at Dick, a matching grin of pure mischief on his face as we clutched our prize—Jason's uniform, boots, and all—tight to our chests. We were a blur of motion, darting past suits of armor that seemed to watch our chaotic flight with stoic disapproval.
"Get back here, you thieving little bastards!" Jason's furious roar reverberated from behind us, closer than I would have liked.
I risked a look back. Sure enough, there he was. A stark naked, thoroughly pissed-off Jason Todd, all teenage fury and flushed skin, thundering after us. His bare feet slapped against the floor with determined, vengeful rhythm.
"Keep running!" Dick wheezed, laughing so hard he almost tripped over an antique rug. "He's gaining!"
We put on a burst of speed, skidding around the corner into the main foyer, our destination—the grand staircase—agonizingly close. Freedom and the satisfaction of our prank were just seconds away.
Standing like an immovable object at the base of the stairs was Bruce. He wasn't in the Batsuit, just a simple dark sweater and slacks, but he might as well have been a brick wall for all the chance Jason had of getting past him. He had his arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in that patented expression of Bat-disapproval that could wilt flowers and intimidate supervillains.
Jason, seeing his chance of catching us vanish, tried to swerve at the last second. It was a futile effort. Bruce moved with the effortless speed that always defied his size, one arm shooting out to hook around Jason's waist. In one smooth, fluid motion, he hoisted the squirming, naked, and now utterly bewildered teen over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Jason's yelp of surprise was cut off as he was unceremoniously draped face-down over Bruce's broad shoulder. His legs kicked uselessly in the air.
"Bruce! Put me down! They have my—" Jason started.
Bruce adjusted his grip, giving Jason's bare backside a firm pat that was more disciplinary than comforting. "Hold still." He said, his voice a low rumble of calm authority. "You're tracking dirt all over the floor, and you're in desperate need of a bath."
Dick and I had skidded to a halt, doubled over with laughter. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the spectacle. The mighty Robin, reduced to a squirming, naked captive over his father's shoulder.
Bruce turned his head, his eyes finding ours. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face. It was the kind of smirk that promised retribution.
"And after Jason's done." He said, his voice laced with chillingly sweet amusement. "It’s your turn. With Alfred."
The laughter died in my throat. I felt the blood drain from my face as I exchanged a wide-eyed look of pure horror with Dick. The cackling stopped. The humor of the situation evaporated, replaced by a cold, creeping dread.
Not just a bath. ‘An Alfred bath’. We both knew exactly what that meant. Water heated to a temperature just shy of boiling. Scrubbing so vigorously it felt like he was trying to remove a layer of skin. The meticulous, unyielding lecture that accompanied it about hygiene, responsibility, and the proper care of Wayne Manor's floors.
Bruce's smirk widened as he saw our reaction. He turned and began his steady ascent up the grand staircase, carrying his still-protesting cargo. Jason's muffled complaints faded as they disappeared down the hallway.
Dick and I stood frozen in the middle of the foyer, Jason's clothes clutched limply in our hands. The victory felt hollow now, tainted by the impending doom of an Alfred-administered scrubbing.
"He wouldn't." Dick whispered, his voice barely audible.
"He would." I replied, my own voice just as shaky. "He definitely would."
We looked at each other, the same thought passing between us. Maybe, just maybe, we could hide. For a week. Or two.
