It starts innocently enough. Steph had the phone out, grinning from ear to ear, the flash already on as she announced, “Alright people, ‘Suspect Edition: Batfam Roast Challenge.’ No takebacks, no hard feelings, no lawsuits. Got it?”
Everyone groans in sync — which is basically Batfam for “yes.”
She pans the camera dramatically toward Dick first, who’s smiling too confidently for someone about to get obliterated. “Alright, Nightwing, suspect number one,” Steph declares. “Suspect’s only power is a triple backflip.”
The Cave erupts.
Tim actually wheezes. Jason is on the floor. You’re crying into a pillow. Even Damian snorts — Damian! Dick just stands there, clutching his chest in mock pain. “Wow. Okay. Acrobat slander. You’re all jealous of the thighs and it shows.”
“Yeah, bro, real useful when someone’s got a gun,” Jason laughs, doubling over.
“Shut up, I can dodge bullets,” Dick fires back. “Gracefully!”
Steph zooms in dramatically. “He can’t though.” Cue more chaos. Then she swings the phone toward Jason, who smirks, ready for whatever’s coming. Or so he thinks.
“Suspect,” Steph says solemnly, “is such a drama queen that instead of telling his dad he was alive, man had to put on an entire Broadway show.”
The room explodes.
Tim chokes on his coffee. Dick collapses against you, laughing so hard he can’t breathe. Damian’s trying to look unimpressed, but his mouth is twitching. You’re wheezing so loud Alfred appears at the top of the stairs with a towel like, “Do I even want to know?”
Meanwhile, Bruce goes rigid. His jaw tenses. His eyes flick briefly toward Jason — and Jason just grins.
“Yeah, well,” Jason shrugs, voice dripping with mock pride, “at least my comeback tour had good reviews.”
That sets everyone off again. Even Bruce cracks the smallest, tiniest smile before quickly covering it with a sigh and muttering something like, “You’re all insufferable.”
Steph’s cackling as she pans to Damian next. “Alright, tiny suspect number three—”
Damian immediately scowls. “Do not—”
“Suspect is such a tryhard,” Steph starts, barely keeping a straight face, “that he does like seven different martial arts, owns fifty-six katanas, and only goes on patrol once a week because he is seven.”
The scream that comes out of Dick is ungodly. Tim falls off the couch. You’re half bent over, smacking the floor with your hand. Jason’s gasping for air, repeating “because he is seven!” like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
Damian looks personally offended. “I’m thirteen,” he grits out, but his ears are red and he’s definitely fighting back a laugh.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether to ground everyone or just fake his death again.
Finally, Steph turns the camera to you. “Suspect,” she says sweetly, “is the only girl, raised by men, and yet is the brattiest girl in existence.” The boys lose it. Jason’s wheezing out, “She’s not wrong.” Dick’s like, “Confirmed.” Tim adds, “You could weaponize that attitude.” Damian, deadpan, “You already do.”
You throw a pillow at them, miss, and flip the camera off. From somewhere upstairs, Alfred’s voice echoes, “I heard that, and she’s right.”
The whole Cave goes silent for a second, and then everyone bursts out laughing again, even Bruce, who shakes his head but doesn’t stop smiling.
Steph ends the video with a dramatic zoom on Bruce’s face. “Final suspect: Dadman. Suspect thinks emotional repression counts as a personality trait.”
Jason falls off the couch. Dick screams. Tim’s hiding his laughter behind a mug. Bruce just gives her the look. The one that could silence Gotham itself.