𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ᴄᴀᴛᴏᴘᴛʀɪᴄ ᴛʀɪꜱᴛᴇꜱꜱᴇ

The car's interior was silent except for the engine's smooth humming. The droning helicopter blades had long since disappeared from their vicinity, and Vin was at a loss. Everyone would know that they were at least somewhat allied now.

A bad guy and a hero.

They didn't exactly appear friendly on the reel. Being in a violent car chase would get almost anyone to put aside their grievances for the time being. At least, that was what Vin tried to reason with himself. All they had was one incident of reluctant comradery—no more, no less.

However, it wasn't the masses Vin was concerned about. No, his father and grandfather would know better than idle speculation. And from what he has seen and heard of Damian's father, Batman would also immediately see through their ruse. If he hasn't already, that is.

Vin snorted, which soon turned into full-on hysterical laughter. "We," He said breathlessly. "-are so fucked."

Damian grunted and sat back against his seat, letting his hands loosen from their constricting hold around the wheel. "I find myself unsure of how to proceed." He admitted grudgingly.

"Well, it's about dinner time. Want to grab something to eat?" Vin suggested with a one-shouldered shrug.

Damian raised an eyebrow, "In our current state and wear?" He looked him up and down, deliberately staring at the array of weapons stashed on Vin's person, and the rifle settled on the delinquent's lap. Their uniforms also had rips and slashes, streaks of drying blood dashing along their faces, and the unmistakable scent of oil, engine exhaust, and gunpowder.

In other words, they were a brutal, gory, exhausted mess, and any sane person would scream and run in the opposite direction at the sight of them.

...Good thing this was Gotham.

Vin rolled his neck and sighed at the painful cracks that followed. "We've already been on live TV, pal. Everyone and Solomon Grundy know what happened. Our families will eventually track our asses down, and we just busted out of the highest security prison in the damn country. Might as well have some leisure time before we get grounded to the grave and the great beyond, right?" He nudged his vigilante accomplice goadingly.

Damian's white lens squinted consideringly.

"Yes, can I get a six-piece nugget with a Mango Passion Tea Lemonade and a..."

Damian leaned towards him and whispered, "Veggie wrap with a Cloudberry Sunjoy,"

"Veggie wrap with a Cloudberry Sunjoy," Vin repeated to the intercom.

"Will that be all, sir?" Came the tinny voice in reply.

"Yes, ma'am," Vin said and pulled forward behind the sports car in front of them. "I promise to let you have a least a week with my ride for this, pal." He promised Damian as he felt the finely tailored seams of the Batmobile's wheel. He felt like he was dreaming, being in the driver's seat of the most badass and cutting-edge piece of machinery Gotham (and probably the Milky Way galaxy) had to offer. When Damian had demonstrated all of the bells and whistles, he remembered gawping like an idiot. This hunk of lead and fiberglass was more tank than car.

"I will hold you to that, Bertinelli." Damian guaranteed, crossing his arms.

The giddy smile Vin returned fell as soon as he perceived yelling ahead of them. Scowling, he leaned over and stuck his head out of the window. "Hey, Janice, this is Chick-fil-A; you don't come here for the nutritious fibers! You've been holding up the line for seven minutes, so quit bitching about your boba motherfucking tea, or move on!" He hollered to the woman. The lady with the 70s puff atop her head looked back, ready to involve him in the argument, only to see the infamous and recently escaped criminal from TV waving happily with blood-soaked clothes from the fucking Batmobile.