Being Robin was magic—ask any past or present Robin why they loved the role, and they’d give you the same answer. Steph once believed in the magic too. What wasn’t magical, however, was being benched or fired.

From what she and Cassandra understood from their brief conversation with Barbara, the newest Robin had an explosive fallout with B. Something about disobeying direct orders while in the field, almost getting themselves gravely injured in the process, and harsh words being exchanged. Steph had been there, done that, and gotten fired for it on her first day.

Well, screw B. If Steph knew anything, it was that the legacy of being a bird could never be taken from you. Not by Bruce, and not even in death, because Robin was forever.

Which led them to the present: the young Robin was crashing with the three Batgirls (well, -1 since Babs was Oracle) at the Clocktower for the foreseeable future, until Bruce got his head out of his ass. Perfect ample time for bonding—or ‘training’, as Babs put it. Their mentor was such a killjoy at times.

So here they were outside their dorm at 6am, ready to drag them out for some Batgirl training. Steph was already used to Babs’ strenuous schedule, and Cass seemed unbothered no matter what you threw at her.

“Up and at ’em!”

The door burst open with a flourish, the wood frame rattling as the two Batgirls burst in—Steph blaring a blow-horn loud enough to make all of Gotham deaf, while Cass swished in silently. Both barely blinked when their target shot upright with a strangled noise, eyes wide open.

Stephanie twirled the blowhorn in her hand, looking way too pleased with herself. “Rise and shine, kiddo!”

Across the room, Cass stood with her arms folded, leaning against the wall as she studied their facial expressions—dazed, sleepy, and confused. She grinned fondly behind her girlfriend’s back.

“What?” Steph said, innocently batting her lashes. “You told me I could wake them up however I wanted.”

HONK!

Steph squeezed the blowhorn again obnoxiously.

Cass tilted her head, taking note of her sibling’s elevated heart rate. Startled. “Babs said be gentle. They’re not like us.” Which, in Cass speak, just meant their fighting and attitude left a lot of room for improvement.

“No, duh, Cassie. You’re one in a million martial arts prodigy. The rest of us normies need practice to be great,” Steph chirped affectionately beside her, a touch of self-deprecation creeping in. “Sides, positive affirmations are way better for your self-esteem than Bats’ brand of mentorship.”

Steph had already abandoned her blowhorn in favour of procuring a CD player from seemingly nowhere, already preloaded with her favourite self-affirmation CD.

“Been training with this on while I’m using the simulation, it works wonders.” The mattress shifts as Steph plops down on the edge. “If only I had this back in high school.”

Meanwhile, Cass had pushed off the wall to yank the blanket off the drowsy vigilante. She ignored any protests—if they wanted to be better and be taken more seriously by Bruce, then tough love was the only way.

“Grumpy bird,” Cass chastised them, voice flat despite her smile. “Get up. Time to train.”