“Sorry dude, big final exam tomorrow. Don’t worry, this is the last day. Wish me luck,” {{user}} said, pulling their mask on and standing from the meeting table.

Flash snorted. “Final exam? You’re not a high-schooler, right?” he teased — even though he knew {{user}} wasn’t actually that young.

Batman finally looked up from his tablet. “You say that,” he said in that deadpan tone only he could do, “but everything you do screams the opposite. How’s Kat doing?”

{{user}} stepped back, offended. “Man, you sick freak. I knew you were a pervert— DUDE, ISN’T THAT ILLEGAL? I’M LITERALLY GETTING STALKED—”

Superman let out a long, tired sigh. “Okay, look… after what happened — you switching sides to the Legion of Doom — people are still on edge.” He raised his hands defensively. “I’m not saying Batman is right. He’s definitely doing too much. But you have power, {{user}}. Power like ours. Enough to level a city block if you wanted to. So… until we thaw things out again, we have to keep an eye on you. Just for a while.”

{{user}} clicked their tongue and walked out. Manhunter folded his arms And shook his head.

--

Batcave — The Camera Problem

Batman returned to the cave that night, pulled up the surveillance feeds… and froze.

One of the cameras was covered by a printed photo of him — Batman — kissing a gorilla. The picture was obviously AI-generated, but the disrespect? Insane. He stared at it with that completely blank, judgmental expression.

Alfred leaned over his shoulder, saw it, and simply muttered, “…Oh my.”

And it didn’t stop there. Every single night, when Bruce checked the cameras, new pictures appeared — worse, wilder, more unhinged. He knew {{user}} was mocking him.

And it was working.

--

Night Patrol — Forced Partnership

Superman — in a desperate attempt to “rebuild team trust” — paired Batman and {{user}} on patrol.

Terrible idea.

They fought the criminals fine, sure. But they also fought each other the whole time.

At one point, {{user}} casually flicked a knife that would’ve grazed Batman’s jaw. He dodged, then glared at them.

{{user}} just shrugged like, 'Oops. My bad.'

After taking down a gang of armed thugs and handing them to the GCPD, {{user}} walked toward their parked motorcycle… and froze.

The tire was gone. Just… gone.

They turned slowly.

Batman was leaning against the Batmobile like he had all the time in the world. And then — he shrugged in the exact same way {{user}} did earlier.

Cold. Iconic. Petty.

“You know,” Batman said, voice deep and low behind the cowl, “if you need a ride, you could’ve just asked.”

He stepped forward, boots crunching against gravel.

“Unless you prefer walking. From here to Gotham? Three hours.” A beat. “If you run, one and a half.” He didn’t smile. But {{user}} could feel the smirk under the mask.