There Are Only So Many Times One Can Crash Leonardo Da Vinci's First Flying Mahcine Before You Lose Your

That's what i see and so do you !

Desperately need petty Alfred, whose form of bullying Bruce for something is, like, moving all furniture in the cave on one inch. Just one. A barely noticeable difference, and yet, it is m a d d e n i n g.

Bruce, blindly trying to reach for the pen as he realises that they are slightly, slightly lefter than usual: (Slow processing)

Bruce, raising his head to the celling, desperate : ...What did I do this time?!

Jason, who was adopted recently, confused: Is he... talking to God?

Dick, snorting: Something like this.

Dick: So, there is a thing... When Alfred is mad—

Many years later, Bruce and Tim return to the Batcave and realise that all stuff there is moved on one inch. Bruce is confused, because he is very, very sure that he didn't fuck up anything recently. Meanwhile, Alfred is just glad that his newly brought back alive grandson found a very healthy way to punish his father for not killing Joker.

I love my cats so much because I give them food and affection and they give me a look that says be gone with you you useless peasant

Joker Murdered

It's headline news. Bruce knows it wasn't Jason. He had been in the cave nearly all day, working on the motorcycles with Dick. When the news came in, Bruce was right next to him and saw his reaction. Jason was shocked to his core. Jason absolutely was not involved.

Bruce can't figure out who did it, and it's driving him crazy. He investigates the entire family, the Arkham staff, city officials—everyone. Tim is just as perplexed as Bruce. There are no clues at all. It's not that anyone cares that the Joker was murdered; the real issue is that they can't figure it out. That someone out there is so good that they didn't leave a single trace behind.

It's the fact that someone out there is better than the Bats.

Jason is the only one not stumped. The same day the news breaks, he approaches Alfred, giving the elderly man a hug with an almost soundless, "Thank you." As he trembles with emotion.

Alfred pats him on the back with a simple, "Anything for you, my dear boy."

Maybe now that his grandson's greatest fear, his own personal walking and living hell, has been vanquished, he will finally find some measure of peace. Perhaps, at the very least, he won't wake up screaming and crying as often.

If Randy's opponent isn't Aldis, they better have a giant return planned.

PUNK WANTS CUSTODY OF HEYMAN

nothing that a haircut and a wardrobe update and a detox and a sex change and a fake ID and getting medicated and selling all my stuff and faking my death and moving country can't fix