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Chapter Text

Bruce took a deep breath as he sat down in front of the Batcomputer. The white light of the electronic device casting the mostly dark cave into shadow.

It was well into the morning at this point. His patrol having run much later than planned. However that is not what dragged at his shoulders. What made him dread to open the Batcomputer. No, his hesitation laid with the new medical report from Dick.

Bruce had long set up an alarm for when a new report was submitted. His constent worry for his kids making it a necessity, at least in his eyes. Each of his children had personalized alarms. Allowing him to know which of his kids were injured even if they don't think it is a 'real' injury. 

The problem with getting his information from medical reports was that none of his kids filled them out properly! Oh, they filled them out. Just that there was NEVER enough information. 

Taking one more fortifing breath, Bruce opened the nights report. 

04/20/2024                              3:40am

Nightwing

Started patrol at 8pm. On roster as patrol route A12. 

Stopped a robbery of the new CVS next to Waffle House. Four armed goons. Two with guns, one with a crowbar, and one with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. The fight was quick. Three goons left for the police.

Went to Waffle House with Lawrence (goon 4, the one with the bouquet). Had a nice conversation about how it was his anniversary tomorrow and he just didn't have the money to buy the bouquet for his wife. Learned that Poison Ivy has taken over all the parks in little Italy forcing him to take drastic measures to get his flowers. (New menue item: triple chocolate cake blueberry waffle tower. We should definitely go as a family at some point.)

Ran into some LOA members stalking Red Robin around midnight. Had a discussion about boundaries. Roof top cleared of blood and other identifying marks. Need to be on look out for LOA movements over the next 2 weeks.

Came across Robin at 2am breaking curfew. Managed to get him back to the cave by 3am. B you really need to talk to him about why the curfew is important. I know we have all broken it, but this is getting a little out of hand. Apparently this is the third time this week he has snuck back out. 

 

Medical report link

 

Medical Report 

 

Name: Dick Grayson 

Designation: Nightwing

Time Of Injury: Around 00:00

Cause of Injury: 

Injury Type: 

Estamated Recovery Time: 1 week

Note: We need more gauze.

Bruce covered his face with his hands as he tried to calm down. Dick's medical report mocking him in his efforts. 

After counting to fifty Bruce gave up. Pushing his chair back. He stalked up the steps. Each second seeming to take a lifetime to pass. 

The family wing of the manor was dark even though the sun had risen. The blackout curtains pulled to allow its mostly nocturnal residents some sleep. 

Swiftly Bruce made it to Dick's room knowing his son was spending the night here after bringing Damien back. With a firm knock he entered to see Dick slowly rubbing sleep from his eyes. His heavily wrapped chest on display. 

With a soft sound of pain Bruce sat on the side of his son's bed. His hand carding through Dick's hair. "Hey, B. What's wrong?" 

"Did you have Alfred look at your injury?" He questioned as he cataloged the new brusies and scrapes from patrol.

"No, Alfred had gone to bed by the time I'd come back with Damien. I didn't want to disturb him. He gets so little sleep as it is." Dick said while closing his eyes. "But don't worry. It wasn't anything serious. Just a couple stitches and some patches. Had to use a lot of gauze because of the location. It looks worse then it is." 

"Okay buddy, just wanted to check in on you. You should have Alfred look at it when your up." Bruce replied before standing. 

"Will do. Night Bruce." 

Chapter Text

"Do we have a deal?" Asked Tim over the com. His voice betraying absolutely none of the pain he was no doubt feeling. 

Barbara hummed as she leaned back in her wheelchair. The monitors displaying Gotham and all it's glory. "Deal, but I can only buy you so much time. Make sure you are at least well on your way to San Francisco or there will be nothing I can do for you." 

Tim sighed in relief. "Don't worry. I'll call Kon. He can get me there before B even reads the report. Thanks O." 

"Just make sure you recover properly." Barbara replied a bit distracted as she pulled up the medical report form on her central monitor. 

"Will do. Red Robin out." The com clicked off leaving her to the relative silence of the clock tower. 

Cracking her fingers she readied herself for maximum pettiness.

Medical Report 

 

Name: Barbara Gordon 

Designation: Oracle

Time Of Injury: 7:00

Cause of Injury: Accidently hitting the nightstand when trying to turn off the alarm clock. 

Injury Type: Slammed finger

Estamated Recovery Time: 1 minute

Note: I should really just use my phone for my morning alarm. However the last time I did I threw it across the room and broke it. What do you use as your morning alarm system B? Or do you still have Alfred wake you up?

 

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MedicalReport 

 

Name: Barbara Gordon 

Designation: Oracle

Time Of Injury: 12:10 

Cause of Injury: Wheelchair 

Injury Type: Pinched my fingers in the wheels

Estamated Recovery Time: 30 seconds 

Note: I have been thinking of upgrading my wheelchair to the new electronic one so I don't have to wheel myself around. Do you think Wayne Tech has one of those? I can't remember if you already made some. If not it's okay. I know Lex Corp has some really cool electric wheelchairs. I could always blackmail some from them. 

 

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Medical Report 

 

Name: Barbara Gordon 

Designation: Oracle

Time Of Injury: 13:30

Cause of Injury: Book

Injury Type: Paper cut on my right index finger

Estamated Recovery Time: 2 days

Note: Why is it that the more minor the injury the more it hurts? I mean I have had knife wounds less painful. I have watched a tik tok on wearing bandaids over your fingers to prevent paper cuts if you work with a lot of paper. Maybe I will try that. 

 

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And on it went. Every minor inconvenience she has suffered for the last week. Each one getting their own medical form submission. Why was she doing this? 

Well you see Bruce had to read each medical report as they were submitted. No skipping. It was a program she created after all. And Tim, wonderful Tim, has just bribed her into flooding the system. 

Plus she was always up for messing with B. With a cackle worthy of a super villain she submitted her tenth report. 

Chapter Text

Jason stared at his laptop trying to glare the medical form into submission. Why he even bothered filling these out alluded him. 

Well that's not true. If he didn't fill these out then he was hounded by his brothers. He once woke up to Dick hovering over him like some creepy vampire watching him sleep in the dark. How he even knew which safe house Jason was in still confuses him. 

Another time he walked into his kitchen to make breakfast only to find Tim sitting at the counter. A full pot of coffee ready, in the coffee machine he was one hundred percent sure he did not own. So it was just better to fill these things out. 

Shifting on his couch he winced as his newly sowed stitches pulled. 

Medical Report 

Name: Jason Todd

Designation: Red Hood

Time Of Injury: At some point after 10 pm

Cause of Injury: Territory Dispute

Injury Type: Stabbed 2 times, Gunshot wound, Couple nicks, Blunt force trama

Estamated Recovery Time: 24 hours or whenever I feel done being injured

Note: Fuckers got too cocky 

 

 

That should do it. Now no one can bitch about him not doing his paperwork.

Standing he made his way to the kitchen. Recipes floating through his head. Only to be interrupted by a phone call. The very distinct sounds of Darwin Deez's Bad Day playing. 

Huffing he hung up. There was no way he was talking to the old man. He filled out his report. Now it was Jason time. No bats, birds, or merry men. Just him food and a good book. 

Only his phone really didn't like his plan. With a groan he answered. 

"Todd what have you done?" Demanded the Demon Brat. Voice echoing slightly. No doubt still in the Cave. 

"Your gonna have to be more specific, Brat. I've done a lot." Jason drawled head in the fridge. 

With a huff Damian warned. "Father is panicking and rushing over to your safe house, Todd. What have you done?" 

"What?" Jason pulled the phone away looking at the time. Two minutes have passed since he answered the phone. "When did he leave!?" He demanded cutting off whatever Demon Brat was saying. 

"He left 5 minutes ago in the Batmobile." Damian replaid as if he thought Jason was an idiot.

"Fuck!" Shutting off the phone he grabbed his helmet, guns, and jacket before hauling it out the window. His stitches protesting the sudden movement. 

Down below he could just make out the sounds of the batmobile racing to his apartment as he started free running across the roof tops. There was no way he was dealing with Bruce today!

Chapter Text

Tim stared down at expensive looking box of designer cookies sitting innocently on his desk at WE. It was six o'clock in the morning after a grueling late night, more early morning patrol, with back to back meetings scheduled. 

Tamara Fox stood next to him eyeing the box like it was going to explode. Which honestly wasn't completely off the table yet. 

Carful he pulled the letter off the suspicious box. The deep green envelope labeled with Detective clearly pointed it as from Ra's. You would think blowing up a person's life long work would make them hate him, but no. Tim's life could never be that easy. 

"Do you think they're poisoned?" He asked Tam while shredding the letter. 

"I would be surprised if they weren't." She replaid with a scowl. "Remeber your first meeting is at nine. Poisoned or no you need to show up to the proposal."

"Got it Tam. Don't worry I will be there." With that she left closing the door to give him privacy. 

Taking a seat he pulled up his report on last night's patrol. His hands flying across the keyboard. He would have gotten this done earlier, but he had just ended his patrol at five.

Pulling up the medical report that needs to be filled out after he accidentally took a hit to the shoulder. 

Medical Report 

 

Name: Timothy Drake-Wayne

Designation: Red Robin

Time Of Injury: 2:00

Cause of Injury: Goon

Injury Type: Shoulder

Estamated Recovery Time: 

Note: 

 

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Satisfied he reached over and bit into the delicious chocolate cookies. Their rich flavor energizing him. They went absolutely perfectly with his coffee. 

Hours passed as he he filled out WE paperwork, went to meetings, and reviewed proposals. Around three he realized he was having a bit of a problem holding a pen. His hand twitching as if his muscles were spasming. 

Cautiously he looked over at the now very empty box of cookies. The cookies that had obviously been poisoned. 

Pulling up a new medical report he began filling it out. Hoping that no one would notice. 

Medical Report 

Name: Timothy Drake-Wayne

Designation: Red Robin

Time Of Injury: All Day

Cause of Injury: Ra's Al Ghul

Injury Type: Central Nervous System 

Estamated Recovery Time: Unknown 

Note:

 

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Hitting submit he turned back to the paperwork. It was time to see how much he could get done until what he assumed was a low grade paralysis really kicked in. 

Chapter Text

Stephenie cackled maddly as she filled out her medical report. Bruce has complained for months now that memes were not in fact sufficient information when filling out a report. Months of his nagging and nitpicking. But now, NOW the jokes on Bruce! 

Forcing her to rewrite the medical reports for the last week of patrol will be his down fall! He's in Steph's game now. And the best part of all of this? He will have to read it. The old furry can't ever not know things. Well now he can use his research skills to his own detriment! 

The trick was getting the one hundred word limit just right in the note section. 

Medical Report 

Name: It's Stephenie, Bitch

Designation: Superbat

Time Of Injury: Night

Cause of Injury: These reports

Injury Type: Sanity

Estamated Recovery Time: Never

Note: 

Clark turned to Bruce after the Justice League meeting finally ended. Their eyes locking as the last person left the room. 

 

It had been such a long time since the two had last been alone together. After all operating in separate cities left little time for private meet ups.

 

The man of steel quickly stepped forward pressing his hands into the table on either side of the chair boxing the bat in. The tight jumpsuit doing nothing to hide Clark's intent. 

 

Slowly leaning in Clark whispered in Bruce's ear. His voice unusually husky. "Will you be good for me Batman?" 

 

Chapter Text

Bruce squinted as he looked at the strings of emojis filling Cass's medical report. He was pretty sure it wasn't actully legible, but was to afraid to ask at this point. He had seen his children use these images to substitute words before, but never had it only been emojis.

The problem was that Cass, his sweet precious daughter, had actually filled out a medical report. A report Bruce couldn't read. 

He leaned forward on the desk hands interlaced as he stared contemplative at the screen. The glow of the Batcomputer adding a moody depth to the look as he pouted. 

Near silent footsteps sounded behind him as Nightwing leaned over Bruce's shoulder to squint at the report. Masked eyes scanning the 'text' with a grim set to his mouth. 

Straightening back up Nightwing stalked off to the shower rooms. "Tim! What does Cass mean she had to rescue you from assassins in France?" Scrambling and the sound of items dropping rang through the cave as Bruce watched Nightwing stalk around the corner using the reflection on the Batcomputer. "Don't you run from me!"

Tim came tearing back into the main cavern. Hair dripping wet and half dressed as he frantically dodged a very concerned Nightwing. "We talked about this! You have to tell people when your injured. You weren't even the one to write the medical report. Cass did." 

The two tore through the Batcave as Bruce turned his attention back to the report. His eyes landing on the little group of emojis Cass obviously used to identify Tim.

Medical Report 

Name: ❤️👦

Designation: ❤️🐤

Time Of Injury: 🌑🕧

Cause of Injury: 🟢🥷

Injury Type: 🧠, 🤜, 🦶, 🦴

Estamated Recovery Time: ???

Note: 

❤️🐤 ⛓️ 🚇 🟢 🥷 🇫🇷🗼

⚫️🦇👣 🟢 🥷 🗡 

🔑 ⛓️ ❤️ 🐤 

🏃‍♀️ 🇫🇷 

🫂❤️👦

👁🟢🥷🔪

👁🟢🧟‍♂️🥷☠️

 

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Perhaps he should corner Tim later to find out why Cass wrote a medical report for him. God knows he isn't going to be able to decipher it.

Chapter Text

Damian hummed thoughtfully as he read over his medical report. His eyes quickly scanning for any missed details or spelling errors. It wouldn't due to send father a perfunctory document. 

Medical Report 

 

 

Name: Alfred

 

Designation: The Cat

 

Time Of Injury: 07:23

 

Cause of Injury: Batarang

 

Injury Type: A small cut to Alfred's right front leg

 

Estamated Recovery Time: Two Weeks

 

Note: 

The Veterinarian declared that the injury is superficial and shall heal up well. 

Satisfied Damian submitted the report before turning to his injured cat. His front leg wrapped in bandages to keep it free of dirt. Damian's eyes softened as he stroked the cute little black cat. The creatures yellow eyes closing in satisfaction. 

"Worry not Alfred, I shall hunt down the imbecile who left that dangerous toy out in the open. They shall rue the day they disobeyed father's direct order to keep all bat tech out of the manor."

The young child swept out of the room dramatically to begin his hunt, leaving Alfred on his bed. A bed surrounded by sharp pointy objects. Some on display. Some hidden in inconspicuous locations.

Alfred murped before shoving his head underneath Damian's pellow. His butt and tail straight in the air as he rummaged. Finally with a triumphant meow, Alfred pulled out a batarang. The matte black throwing knife cutting a little into the sheets as he dragged it. 

Chapter Text

Duke stared at the Batcomputer screen with painfully squinted eyes. His head pounding as he gazed at the back light screen. It had been a long day of patrolling Gotham and he just wanted to go to bed. He wasn't like the nocturnal furry brigade that liked to state they were human, Duke knew they were lying, he needed sleep.

His hands lingered on the keyboard unsure of how much to write. Duke always had a hard time working out what needs to be in a medical report. Sure Bruce says to put everything, but he is pretty sure that his chronic light sensitivity doesn't need to be added.

Medical Report 

 

 

Name: Duke Thomas 

 

Designation: Signal

 

Time Of Injury: Day

 

Cause of Injury: Criminals

 

Injury Type: A couple

 

Estamated Recovery Time: Don't know I'm not a medical major

 

Note: A solid 3 out of 10

There that should do it.

Duke logged off the computer and stretched. His shoulders popping causing a satisfied groan. 

Yeah it was time for Signal to call it a day and hit the sack.