The game was Mafia vs. Civilians. And everyone, everyone, knew this was a mistake the second Bruce announced it.

The long table in the Wayne Manor living room was dimly lit now — Alfred had turned down the lights “for dramatic effect,” and it somehow just made everything ten times more intense. Shadows stretched across everyone’s faces like they were in a crime thriller.

Clark sat back in his chair, smiling awkwardly. “Okay, so… I think I get the rules this time. Mafia picks people off in secret, civilians try to find out who they are, right?” “Correct,” Tim said, shuffling the cards with way too much seriousness.

“Alright,” Bruce said, looking around the table. “No powers. No enhanced hearing. No reading heartbeats. No x-ray vision. Fair play.”

Jon raised a brow. “That’s basically half the room banned from existing.”

“Precisely,” Bruce said.

Cards were dealt. A silence fell. You, Jason, and Dick exchanged a glance. Just one. That was all it took.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed instantly. “That’s a problem.”

“Already?” Clark asked, laughing a little.

Bruce just shook his head. “You don’t understand. They’ve already made a silent pact. This game is over before it’s begun.”

Because you — sitting there between Jason and Dick — had that grin. That quiet, plotting grin that made everyone else’s survival instincts kick in. Jason leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, lips quirking in amusement. Dick was smiling too, all sunshine and charm — the kind that hid pure chaos behind it.

Kara whispered to Jon, “Why do they look like they’re planning a war?” Jon whispered back, “Because they are.”

The first round began. And every time someone tried to accuse anyone, the three of you just… looked at them. Silently.

Jason drummed his fingers against the table, you tilted your head with that soft little smile, and Dick would just stare — the perfect bad cop, worse cop, worst cop lineup.

Kon, usually loud and unbothered, visibly gulped. “Okay, nope. Nope. I’m voting them out.” “Which one?” Kara asked. “All of them. They’re like—” he waved a hand between you three, “—the Batfam version of Japan, Germany, and Italy in World War II. They’ve got the alliance of doom.”

Jason snorted. “We prefer ‘strategic partnership.’”

And it just went downhill from there.

Jon got voted out first because Jason smirked when his name was mentioned. Kara got paranoid and accused Alfred. Alfred. Then somehow, in the chaos, you leaned in and whispered something to Dick, and his grin turned feral.

Clark leaned toward Bruce. “Are they—are they coordinating without words right now?” Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. “They don’t need to talk. That’s the problem.”

By the final round, it was over. The civilians were in shambles, Alfred was sipping tea like it was a horror movie, and you three were just sitting there in smug silence as the last card flipped — all of you were Mafia.

Kon threw his card down. “NO. NO WAY. YOU THREE AREN’T EVEN HUMAN.”