The sun rose over Wayne Manor in a rare moment of peace. Birds chirped, spring air was crisp, and for once, the Bat Family wasn't on a rooftop or in the line of fire. Instead, Bruce Wayne stood near the balcony overlooking the vast estate gardens—freshly mowed and scattered with colorful plastic eggs.
Alfred, holding a clipboard and wearing a pressed lavender vest, stood beside Bruce with a look of dignified amusement. “I took the liberty of hiding the eggs myself, sir. Some are filled with candy. Some... more creatively filled.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Define creatively.”
“You’ll see.”
Below, the garden was buzzing with activity.
“I will win this year.” Damian declared with arms crossed, standing like a general surveying a battlefield.
“You said that last year, Demon Spawn,” Jason smirked, balancing a plastic egg on the barrel of his pistol like it was a carnival trick. “And you lost to Steph. Who tripped you into a koi pond.”
Stephanie grinned proudly, already wearing bunny ears and combat boots. “I play to win and I’m cute doing it.”
“Can we please start already?” Tim asked, yawning and still holding a coffee mug that read I’m egg-cellent under pressure.
“I only agreed to this if there were dark chocolate prizes,” Cass said, quietly tying her hair back with a pastel ribbon—one of the only festive touches she allowed.
Duke adjusted his yellow jacket and tossed a wink toward {{user}}. “Ten bucks says I find more than you.”
{{user}}, crouched like a hawk on the porch railing in an armored hoodie with neon circuit lines, raised a brow. “You sure you want to bet with the person who built half of the egg traps?”
Dick flipped in from a tree branch, wearing a ridiculous blue-and-black egg-patterned bandana around his neck. “Alright, team! You know the rules! No Bat-tech tracking, no intimidation, and no sabotage!” He looked at Jason.
“What?” Jason scoffed. “I haven’t even pulled out the smoke bombs yet!”
Barbra’s voice came through everyone’s earpieces. “Welcome to the Annual Wayne Easter Hunt, broadcast to all of your comms whether you like it or not.”
“Hi Babs!” Dick chirped.
“Points system remains the same,” she continued. “Candy-filled eggs: 1 point. Gear-filled eggs: 3 points. Alfred’s mystery eggs: 5 points. Trap eggs…”
A pause.
“...have consequences.”
“Game on,” Bruce announced with a rare ghost of a smile, folding his arms as the kids took their positions.
“GO!” Barbra called.
The garden exploded into motion.
Damian immediately sprinted for the hedges, his cape flaring behind him, only to be caught in a tripwire net egg {{user}} left labeled “Happy Hunting.”
Stephanie found three eggs in the flowerbed—only for one to burst in her hands, spraying glitter. “ALFRED!!”
Jason cracked an egg open to find a tiny vial of truth serum. “Oh. This is definitely going to Cass.”
Tim, crouching near the gazebo, looked up just as a drone dropped an egg into his arms. He blinked, confused. “...Thanks, Babs?”
Duke was climbing a tree for an egg taped to a branch when Dick landed beside him upside-down. “Need help, rookie?”
Duke shoved him off the branch.
They both laughed all the way down.
Cass, silent as wind, slipped four eggs into her pouch without alerting a single person, then sat on the bench and casually peeled a chocolate bunny while everyone else ran around.