Chapter Text
“And we’re live in front of a packed audience in our studio tonight! I’m your host, Hibiki!”
He pauses for a moment to give a bright, toothy smile. His teeth shimmer in the lights and the audience cheers. It is a well-known fact that Hibiki’s quirk, Sparkle, allows him to make any part of himself appear glittery.
“All right, all right, bring it back down everyone. Tonight’s episode is something a little special. See, for the viewers out there who may not know, our goal here on Make A Case is to pick a topic that’s a bit out there and argue in favor of it. It can be an obscure hobby! It can be a genre of music, or a highly contested culinary technique! It can even be, our personal favorite here-” he pauses again and holds his mic out to the crowd.
“A CONSPIRACY THEORY!” the studio audience roars.
“That’s right! Now, we’ve always kept it cute here. The studio execs told me when I first pitched the idea for this show, ‘Hibiki, we love it! But you be sure to stay away from politics. We don’t want to see any lawsuits because you claimed our former Prime Minister was the son of a yakuza enforcer on primetime by citing quirk similarities, okay?’”
“So, from the inception of this show, every conspiracy we’ve covered has been, ultimately, about something inconsequential. And that’s fun! It’s great! We need that in our lives. But now we’re going to walk the line here, everyone.”
Hibiki looks directly into the camera, “Today we’re going to talk about The Robin.”
The crowd’s reaction to this is comically varied. Some people gasp. Others start clapping. Two elderly ladies sitting together in the front row appear furious. The cameras pick up both nervous and delighted laughter. Hibiki lets his words linger, milking the drama.
“For anyone not in the know, this morning a government official announced that the vigilante popularly known as The Robin is a myth. They gave a whole explanation for what they think The Robin Phenomenon actually is, but we won’t be getting into that because it doesn’t matter here in this room!”
“I don’t buy it! And, you see, if The Robin is officially a matter of urban legend, then I’m allowed to share this theory of mine that’s been stewing in my brain for months! The door has been opened, and boy am I going to walk through it. Everyone, I’m here today to make a case that not only is The Robin real, but that they’re actually an organized operation of quirkless vigilantes using the same name. We’ll get into it after the break!”
The channel cuts to a commercial featuring pro-hero Uwabami eating a popular brand of instant noodles.
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Two and a half years ago
It’s an average night in Gotham, except in all the ways that it’s not. The weather is an expected level of dreary. An Arkham breakout including over ten of the city’s most dangerous criminals at once was reported three hours ago, and it’s clear that they are, against all odds and negative interpersonal histories, working together. The city’s young vigilantes are out in full force. Nightwing is back, and the five of them with a very specific shared history tail the five criminals that head towards the same abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the Bowery.
Nightwing, the Red Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Robin converge on the roof. They all look at each other. Red Robin is the first to speak.
“Statistically speaking, coincidences are bound to happen, but it’s-”
“-best we don’t assume this is one of them,” Nightwing finishes, taking the lead. “Did any of you notice any signs of communication? I was on Mad Hatter, and if he was coordinating with anyone he did a great job of concealing it.”
“Nope. Two-Face was actin’ pretty standard.”
“Nothing suspicious from Crane.”
“A cold lack of clues to report from Dr. Freezy.”
“Tch. It seemed as if Riddler was headed to this location regardless of my intentions to pursue.”
Nightwing frowns, and he isn’t the only one. There’s something strange happening and they all know it.
“Oracle here, I’ve got another negative to share. They weren’t using any devices. By all accounts, every escapee is running around the city aimlessly, but these five all decided to head to this address the moment they grabbed one of your notice.”
“Oof. I call magic.”
“Damn it Spoiler, it’s less likely when you don’t say it out loud.”
“Thanks, O. Do you have any eyes inside the warehouse?”
“Not a one. Black Bat and Big Bats have located Joker and need my assistance. You guys be careful, Oracle out.”
“Right,” Nightwing speaks up again, “me, Hood, and Robin descend for recon inside the building while Spoiler and Red stand watch?”
None of them object, and so they split up.
Damian wakes up disoriented on the ground of an unfamiliar alleyway. He hears a voice whispering, as if directly into both his ears at once, Curse of the displaced you cannot evade, for three years I cast you away . A shiver crawls down his spine. How thoroughly unpleasant.
It suddenly registers that one of the noises he’d been filtering out in his confusion was a woman screaming for help. She is muffled by distance, perhaps two blocks over? Damian moves to right himself and only succeeds in tripping over Todd’s ridiculous helmet. The others are spread around him and show no signs of waking.
The woman’s voice is failing her now. Damian grabs his katana from where it lies on the dirty floor and rushes to the scene.
It is as abhorrent as he suspected, if not also strange. The woman in question is a birdlike meta. Four men surround her, plucking feathers from her skin as she cries in pain. Damian deals with the criminals in short order.
“Wh- who are you?” the woman asks in Japanese, eyes wide and still very wet.
“Robin. Do you require an escort home?” he responds.
“I’ve never heard of you before, and you’re a little young to be a hero, aren’t you? I’m very thankful, but shouldn’t you– hey, where’d you go?”
Damian, already on the neighboring building’s roof, scoffs. She spoke as if young heroes weren’t a well-established norm. Clearly she is well enough to walk herself home, so he heads back to the alleyway he woke from. The others are awake when he arrives.