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Bruce pulled in to the garage at Wayne Manor after what he would describe as a long and arduous day at Wayne Industries.
The tired billionaire contemplated the obligations and pressures of his day job. To sum up his feelings he would probably much rather risk a tangle with one of Gotham’s most dastardly criminals than deal with the endless rigmarole of paperwork and these damned dull meetings.
Strolling into the manor, Bruce immediately noticed something that was missing ... noise.
Usually when all 4 of his boys were under the same roof he was greeted by a cacophony of hooting and hollering. Silence was not typical, in fact it was near impossible.
‘Maybe they’ve gone out?’ Bruce asked himself.
But that couldn’t have been the case. If they decided to go somewhere all together, one of them, usually Tim since he was the most responsible of the 4 young men, would send Bruce a text message to give him the heads up. Either that, or Dick would send Bruce a grinning selfie of himself with all of his grumpy brothers forcibly crammed into the shot.
Bruce walked into the kitchen after hanging up his sophisticated business coat.
Nobody was in the kitchen. No Alfred either.
Bruce furrowed his brow as the lack of Alfred in the kitchen was definitely an extreme irregularity especially when it was so close to supper time.
Bruce was however confronted by the extreme mess in the kitchen.
Random ingredients were strewn around and spilled all over the floors and counters including some broken eggs and milk. Pantry and cupboard doors were wide open.
Bruce observed that a shelf in the pantry had been broken and that all of the contents that had been on that shelf were now on the floor. Cereal boxes containing cereals with fluorescent coloured marshmallow bits and other sugary monstrosities, had scattered everywhere. Glass jars from the pantry were also smashed to bits on the kitchen tiles.
Pots and pans and their lids lay abandoned on the ground, and the microwave was unplugged and emitting smoke.
On the counter sat a knife atop a cutting board. Some drops of blood on the cutting board caught Bruce’s eye.
Bruce tried to determine through his visual observation skills whether this was some type of home invasion and did that mean his boys were taken hostage? Where was Alfred? Had the elderly butler been abducted too?
“BOYS?! ALFRED?!!!” Bruce yelled, stuffing down his premature sense of panic.
Rather than trying to run all through the manor, Bruce hurriedly plucked his cell phone out from his suit pocket and dialled the first number that was in his phone’s call history, Timothy.
Bruce loosened his tie as the phone rang, the tie feeling more and more like a noose around his tense neck.
After several rings and going to voicemail, Bruce tried his next contact, Dick.... nothing. No answer.
Bruce knew deep down that this didn’t fit how usual home invasions and kidnappings tended to look. Why was the kitchen a mess, but nothing else? Where would the intruders have entered? The front and back doors seemed to be secure.
Panic clutched at Bruce’s broad chest.
Worry began to overtake Bruce’s logical reasoning fairly quickly as without his Batman suit on to provide an emotional barrier, he was just a plain old dad whose sons and father figure appeared to be missing.
Bruce moved to go down to the cave and get his Batsuit on. That would make sense to himself. He would need to hit the streets to find his family ... time was of the essence if this was indeed a kidnapping.
As Bruce frantically turned around to leave the kitchen for the study, he noticed a couple of blood droplets on the floor in the hallway. Examining the blood drops further, he could see that the person bleeding had been moving.
Based on the shape of the blood spatter, Bruce could tell which direction the injured party had gone. The blood was also still wet which means that the bleeding had occurred very recently.
A few steps later, the detective noticed more blood droplets which continued to leave a clear trail to follow ...up the manor stairs.
His heart pounded as he wondered who was bleeding and how bad it actually was. He figured it must be fairly bad to cause all of his boys and Alfred to be so quiet, but surely not so bad that a call to inform him was needed.
Bruce followed the blood trail which led all the way up to.... of course, Bruce’s master bathroom... that being the biggest bathroom able to hold his entire family at once.
Bruce attempted entry and was faced with a locked door.
“Boys?! Are you in there?” Bruce shouted as he pounded on the door. The agonizing suspense of the situation was fraying his nerves,
“Let me in!”
There was some shuffling behind the door and a muffled shout.
At the lack of intelligible response, Bruce informed,
“Stand back, I’m coming in!”
Bruce kicked the door in on his first try, in a true show of his dad strength. No Batman strength was necessary in that moment. The powerful kick caused the wooden door frame to splinter into pieces.
The confusing sight that greeted him caused him to be rendered motionless AND speechless for a moment. When he did regain the use of his voice he exploded,
“What the hell is going on here?! Somebody had better explain all of this, right now!”
Tim attempted to speak but the thick layers of clear packing tape which covered the sock shoved into his mouth prevented him from doing so. The teen’s hands also appeared to be bound behind him.
Bruce looked over all of his sons, 3 of whom were shackled together at their ankles and the forth appeared as though he was experiencing some painful form of intoxication.
“Jason! Explain!!” Bruce addressed his second oldest son since his eldest son, Dick, was sitting on the floor in the corner clutching his head. Dick looked as though he was either on the verge of vomiting or passing out completely.
Jason grunted as he held his red, angry looking hand under the running tap. Water splashed out all over the countertops and the floors.
After a disgruntled minute, Jason finally barked out,
“Your fucking Dickhead genius of a son chained me and these 2 little runts together using unpickable locks, that’s fucking what happened!!! And then your other mini little birdbrain over there agreed with the big idiot that it would be a good idea to cook a meal all together like this,”
“Brr’thrly bondin’, B...”, a sad, weak, and strained voice answered from the floor.
Bruce bent down to check out Dick’s injuries. Definitely some type of a head injury, Bruce determined. The already purple goose egg on Dick’s temple served as a major clue.
“Oh chum, what happened to you?”
“Oh no. No no no..... don’t go easy on him, Bruce. I know he’s your perfect Goldie, but the fuckwit gave Alfred the night off and told him that we would cook dinner. Then when we all tried to take off, he managed to lure us back in and shackle us together. AHHH FUCK!”
Jason roared in pain at his badly burned hand and jammed it back under the stream of cold water from the tap.
Bruce once again took a look around in an attempt to continue to decipher what he was seeing and cataloging who had what injuries.
Dick had a concussion, Jason’s hand was burned, Damian had a deep laceration on his hand that he was preparing to suture closed on his own using his non-dominant hand; blood painted the immediate area near where Damian was sitting.
Tim, the unfortunate brother shackled in the middle of the three, appeared to be injury free although he still had his mouth taped shut and hands bound securely behind his back.
Bruce decided to help Tim out as he was pleading with Bruce via muffled noises and desperate eye contact.
Bruce grabbed a pair of scissors and slid one scissor blade carefully between the tape and Tim’s cheek. Once he managed to cut the tape, Bruce uncovered Tim’s mouth and then winced as he tried to gently pull the tape free from Tim’s hair. Tim gritted his teeth the entire time, at the horrible pulling of his hair.
Whoever wrapped the tape around Tim’s mouth and entire head clearly did not care that they stuck it directly to Tim’s shaggy black hair as well.
Bruce freed Tim’s hands after that.
“Fuck you guys!!!” Tim screamed after being freed,
“Maybe if you and the demon would’ve stopped yelling at each other in my fucking ear, I wouldn’t hafta tape your mouth shut. I would’ve done the brat too but he was all the way on the other end. Lucky you just happened to be closest to me,”
“And your filthy fucking sock!! Why did you shove that into my mouth?!” Tim picked up the sock and threw it at Jason’s head,
“For fun.” Jason shrugged smugly swiftly moving his head to dodge the incoming slobbery sock.
Bruce moved to Damian next to help his youngest stitch up his hand,
“And what have you got to say for yourself, Damian?”
Damian looked Bruce dead in the eye and replied,
“Richard had a noble idea by allowing Pennyworth an evening of respite, although I do not agree with his means of shackling me together with these imbeciles,”
“Hn,” Bruce replied, looking up quickly at Damian to continue the story,
“Drake wouldn’t cease his incessant blathering, and he was preventing us from completing the meal which would have led to us being unchained by Grayson, so Todd subdued him and I helped,”
“Oh right, blame me you little brat,” Tim interjected, “the reason I was yelling was because Dick blew up the microwave trying to cook whole eggs in there!”
“Seriously though, Bruce. Did you know Dickie was that big a moron?”
“Todd, you’re one to talk, your lack of balance caused our injuries,”
“Nope you little shit. That was your precious Richard’s fault. He fucked up the microwave then he started to climb the pantry shelves to get to the cereal boxes from the top shelf and the shelf broke,”
“Wait, was Dick going to serve his awful cereal for dinner?” Bruce questioned,
“That’s the only thing he can ‘cook’, dad!” Tim answered,
“See! He might be a little ‘special’, Bruce” Jason added, “how has he not starved to death living on his own?”
“....p’zza deliv’ry ....” Dick defended himself with a pained groan, “n’ crreal...”
Bruce shuddered inside. The billionaire made a mental note to force Dick to spend a day learning to cook with Alfred.
“How did the shelf breaking lead to everyone else’s injuries too?” Bruce waited for the answer, eager to know how this colossal calamity unfolded,
“Well the damn shelf broke and Dickie fell and hit his head, he bumped into me and I burned my hand on the stove” Jason grumbled,
Tim finished, “yeah and the overgrown Zombie bumped into me and since I couldn’t grab onto anything for balance, I fell into Demon spawn. He must not be very good at using a knife if a tiny bump caused him to cut himself so badly,”
“I’ll show you how well I can use a knife, Drake!!”, Damian exploded while lunging at Tim.
Bruce yanked Damian back down by the arm that was connected to the hand he was finishing the stitches on.
Bruce finished the stitches and wiped some excess blood off of Damian’s hand with a towel.
Bruce sauntered over and peeked at Jason’s hand. Jason pulled his hand back stubbornly, not allowing Bruce to examine his burn.
Bruce sighed and grabbed some bandages and soothing lotion as well as some painkillers from the medical supply kit in the bathroom drawer.
He popped these items down in front of Jason.
As Bruce began to contemplate his next move he heard a startled voice yell out from downstairs.
Bruce sighed heavily again and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger,
“Well, it seems that Alfred has returned home. Tell you what fellas, don’t worry about dinner. Alfred is going to get his night off as promised and I am going to take him out to eat. We might even buy a new microwave on the way home,”
Bruce looked over the pathetic state of his group of Robins and added,
“By the time we return, I expect that kitchen and this bathroom to be spotless, am I understood?”
A series of grumbles resounded through the large bathroom,
“Am. I. Understood?” Bruce stated more firmly this time,
“Yes, father.”
“Yes, Dad,”
“Fine,”
“Mmm’kay, B”
Bruce recognized that Dick was in no state to help with the clean up. Bruce addressed his younger three boys,
“You three are also responsible for taking care of Dick until he is well enough for his punishment, looks like that might take a few days though,”
What the punishment was going to be... Bruce hadn’t determined that just yet, but as the ringleader, Bruce would think of something special for his first Robin.
Bruce walked to leave the bathroom when a curious Tim asked,
“Hey Dad, can we get a little help with these locks?”
Tim held up his foot indicating the bonds holding him and his brothers together,
“Oh silly me, of course,” Bruce answered over his shoulder as he continued walking out of the bathroom, “I’ll get on those locks as soon as Alfred and I return from our meal.”
Bruce smirked as he heard the volcanic arguments erupt amongst his boys at the revelation that they would be tied together for at least a few hours longer.
On his way downstairs, Bruce intercepted a terrified looking Alfred who was running up the stairs at the commotion. The butler was surely confused and concerned at the state of his kitchen and the welfare of his young masters.
“Master Bruce, is everything alright?”
“Yes, Alfred. Get your coat, we’re going out. I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”