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October 2nd, Wayne Manor...
Bruce was exhausted. He'd been up even later than usual for the past four nights, trying to plan ahead for Two-Face's next move, and figure out where Harley had disappeared to, and he wasn't making any progress with either goal, and he was not in any sort of mood for his current situation.
That situation was, in point of fact, finding himself falling face-first into the carpet in an upstairs hallway at four in the morning.
What had he tripped over? He was usually more aware of his surrounding than this, but the sleep-deprivation must've been getting to him. He couldn't let Tim find out, or his coffee-loving son would never let him hear the end of it for his hypocrisy.
Speaking of being less-than-aware, he twisted to get a look at whatever it was he'd tripped over, - Praying it wasn't one of Damian's pets again, - and pulled the odd, rubbery, white thing off his foot and closer to his face in the darkness.
It was a rubber chicken mask.
Because, of course it was.
Which of his children was it most likely to belong to and which of them would so carelessly leave it in the floor near the staircase?
...None of them. None of his children would leave something like this lying around and risk Alfred's disappointed gaze, or worse, the butler being injured from tripping. (Bruce or any siblings tripping would only provide amusement.)
It must've been one of the kids' friends, then. The first one that came to his mind in this situation was Bart. Considering the teen's innate forgetfulness, he likely didn't even realize he'd left it behind.
That settled, Bruce climbed to his feet, wandered to Tim's room, and left the mask there, so Tim would see it when he got home from Titans Tower. Then, the Big, Bad Bat picked up his now-empty cup, laid a towel over the spill, made himself another glass of warm milk to replace the one he'd lost in his tumble, and trudged blearily to bed.
October 3rd...
Tim blinked, - Equally as blearily as his adoptive father had just the night before, though unaware of this fact, - at the chicken mask sitting on his bed.
Then, he cursed Jason out under his breath and headed out the door.
Jason sighed, bone-deep and weary, as he reached his safe house, dropping his bag and beginning his usual, nighttime routine.
"Hello, safe house...
Hello bed...
Hello disembodied chicken head."
...
Some say the profanities screamed that night could be heard all the way over on Arkham Island.
October 4th, Dick's apartment...
When Dick woke up the next morning (afternoon), he found a note taped to his forehead. He must've been more tired than he'd thought.
He pulled it off, expecting it to be from Tim, who'd promised to come over and update his laptop's security over a week ago, before he'd inevitably lost track of time. But, instead of his second brother's coffee-stained and sometimes jittery handwriting, he saw his first brother's neat cursive and the chibi-Outlaws stationery Roy had given Jason for Christmas.
Dickiebird,
I know you're the one who started the whole "bird" aesthetic, but kindly keep it away from me. I don't wear scaly panties anymore and have no intention of adding feathers to my helmet. If I find another "gift" like the last one in my safe house, I swear I will -
The rest of the letter was far too profane and detailed to relay in a G-rated fic, but I'm certain you can imagine how very unladylike it was.
Only, the chicken mask wasn't Dick's. So, who had actually left it at Jason's safe house?
...Probably Steph. It seemed like the sort of chaotic thing she'd do. Odd that there wasn't any glitter involved, but it could just be Jason hadn't found the glitter bomb yet.
Dick's alarm went off and he reached over to turn it off, only to come face-to-face with the mask in question.
He's pretty sure he heard his first brother laughing outside the window, but couldn't be certain through the sound of his own screaming.
Stephanie did not like the chicken mask.
Stephanie did not want the chicken mask.
Stephanie was insulted that anyone - Especially Dick, - had thought that it was her idea. She had so much more taste.
...
......
......................
But, she was also a gremlin by nature, so she hid it in Damian's room, just to see the explosion it would cause.
Damian was going to kill someone.
Which of the idiotic cretins he had the displeasure of living with or near had decided that his bedroom was an appropriate place to leave such a childish, grotesque, fatuous -
It was probably Drake.
October 5th...
Tim couldn't believe it. The creepy chicken mask was in his room again. He called Dick to give him some choice words about it, but his eldest brother swore it wasn't him. But, who else would've -
"Stephanie."
Steph shrieked, as the chicken mask fell directly onto her head from the cabinet she'd been opening to get her box of waffle-mix from.
They'd messed with her breakfast, now.
This meant WAR.
Bruce was annoyed, but not overly-concerned with his childrens' current prank war. He was actually pretending to not be aware of it, so he'd have an excuse not to get involved and could focus on the bigger, probably-more-illegal-but-who-knew-with-his-children problem at hand.
Someone had stolen what could only be described as a remote control for humans. It came with some kind of receivers that attached themselves to a person's neck, and then the remote could be used to force their body to comply with any order. It wasn't exactly mind-control, as it didn't effect the mind at all, but it was equally unsettling.
And that is why Bruce was not currently stopping whatever had Tim and Jason Shrieking and Stephanie cackling and clucking like a mad-woman out in the hallway.
October 24th, Wayne Manor...
Duke was not having a good time.
First, there was his crazy foster-family, who all slept in the daytime, while he slept at night, and used violence as some kind of love language. Then, there were the family dinners and, even worse, family game nights. He physically shuddered at the memories.
But, the worst thing of all had to be the prank wars.
He'd never personally been involved in one of said wars before, mind you, but it was looking like that would change very soon, considering the weird, creepy, chicken mask sticking not-so-innocently out of his dresser drawer and looking at him like it wanted to eat him.
He'd been hearing whispers of a chicken mask, both at the manor and over comms, for weeks now. Every time it was brought up, Tim had cursed loudly and looked around himself, like he thought the thing would sneak up on him. Jason growled like a giant, red pitbull. Stephanie overheard both once and giggled so much she gave herself the hiccups.
Duke had thought it was some kind of code, or maybe just the other Bats gas-lighting him. But, now, looking at the thing...
It had what looked like some of Steph's glitter smeared across one side.
Under the opposite eye, someone had drawn a red teardrop in what he was hoping was Damian's oil paint and not real blood.
Someone had stuck a fake mustache to it.
It had a Hannah Montana-esque wig.
It's beak had been ripped off at some point and replaced with the animatronic one from an old Furby. (Blue, judging by the fur protruding from the hole all around it.) The new beak was both way too small and so much worse than the original one had probably been.
What kind of lunatics was Duke living with?
People - Mostly her family, but sometimes others, - often told Cass that she was the best. The best at sneaking. The best at awareness of her surroundings. The best at reading people. The best at listening. The best at dancing. The best at so many things, outside of spoken and written language.
She wasn't so sure she was the best at all those things, but she knew she was good at them. And, as for awareness, she could only think of a handful of times she'd been genuinely snuck up on.
But, she had to admit, seeing a giant shadow open in the library wall - She wasn't worried, because she recognized it as one of Duke's, - was surprising. And, while the chicken head that was suddenly - What was the word Tim and Dick liked to use? Yeeted? - that was suddenly yeeted at her through said shadow wasn't exactly sneaky, it did make her jump in a way she hadn't in a very long time.
She did not appreciate that, Duke.
Duke was living in fear.
He'd accidentally thrown the chicken mask at Cass.
Cass.
Thankfully, she'd taken one look at him and known he hadn't meant anything malicious towards her. Once he'd explained that he'd sent it flying into the library because he'd been aiming for Jason, she'd been confused, but seemingly on board.
And, she wanted his help figuring out how to continue the prank.
Only, when they went looking for other siblings to mess with, - No more shadow-traveling chickens, thank you, - they found them all in one place. Apparently, they'd started family game night off without them and the festivities were already getting heated. Duke turned to share a commiserating look with his oldest foster-sister, only to find she was now wearing the stupid mask.
He looked between the tangle of fighting ninja-siblings and the lone ninja-sibling wearing a chicken head, and dove into the throng.
After wearing the chicken mask all through their game night and thinking it over carefully, Cass decided to leave it in Dick's closet. He was going back to Bludhaven tonight and it would give her siblings a few days' peace to let their guard down before it was located again.
October 27th, Tim's apartment...
The mask's name was now Delilah and she was going to burn.
Tim refused to do said burning, himself, though. That mask was as cursed as they came, and he didn't want to turn the wrath of that curse on himself. Better to let one of his siblings do it.
Maybe he should hide it at Jason's again. Jason loved fire and explosions. Not any more than any other Bat, really, but he was much more open about it.
Yeah. He'd leave it at Jason's place, along with a free container of gasoline as a hint.
...Actually, you know what, maybe he should just leave a note.
One of Jason's many, many safe houses...
Jason hated Delilah with a passion. He hated her somehow even more, now that she had a name. (Another brilliant move, Timberly.)
But, every time he went to destroy her, she'd look at him with those big, soulless, mismatched eyes - One had been gouged out by Damian last week and Jason had cheered, but then she'd made her rounds and returned with a laser-pointer haphazardly duct-taped into the hole, - and he just couldn't do it.
Face down world-ending monsters? Sure. But, that was when he was running on fear, adrenaline, and stubbornness. He could do anything while running on fear, adrenaline, and stubbornness. He'd proven it more times than he could count.
But, face down a creepy, probably-haunted, chicken mask, after his adrenaline high had melted away and he was tired and alone in a dark, empty safe house, and his mind was playing tricks on him in the dim light glinting off the glitter Steph had added on sometime around week three of this little... Problem?
No. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen. He'd rather track mud on Alfred's carpet.
...Better let Dickie do it.
October 30th, Dick's apartment...
Dick had to admit, as fun as this had been at the beginning, this thing with the mask was getting out of hand.
He'd actually had a nightmare featuring the stupid thing the night before.
He'd been wandering through the manor by candlelight during a storm, looking all around for his family. He'd seen light seeping out from under the library door and assumed that's where everyone else was. But, when he'd opened the door, it had been a lone lamp shining in the center of the room, but, instead of a lampshade, atop of it was Delilah. The light from the lamp was shining through her rubbery skin. Her laser-pointer eye was aimed directly for his heart. And, possibly worst of all, her stolen, Furby mouth was opening and closing on its own and making a noise like Chica from Five Nights At Freddy's.
And, now, nearly twenty-four hours after he'd woken up from that nightmare, he'd gotten back from a mission late at night to find the mask hooked over the lamp in his living room.
He turned around, locked the door, and dialed Wally. He'd rather be in a city without chicken masks for a while, thanks.
October 31st, A random warehouse in Gotham...
She'd done it. She'd actually done it! Her! Harley Quinn!
Just before her, bound in the floor, were most of the Bat Clan, glaring daggers, but stuck for the moment.
But, only for the moment, she knew. She'd seen this old song and dance a million times before. With herself, with Mistah J, with every other villain in Gotham and probably a few outside of it.
They would get loose if she gave them the chance. So, she wouldn't give them the chance.
She attached one of the little devices to the neck of each of the little Birds and Bats before her, then hit the button on the controller. They all went stalk still, clearly struggling within their minds to resist, but unable to make their own bodies comply.
Harley had won and she'd done it all on her own!
No. She couldn't get ahead of herself. She needed to test it. It wasn't mind-control, after all, it was bodily control. The Bats were as strong-willed as they came, and would probably find some way to fight it soon enough, so she had to work fast.
Only, she hadn't really expected to get all of them so quickly.
Oh, well. She guessed she'd just cause some chaos while she thought over her next move.
"What's the weirdest picture you have in your phone," She demanded, pressing a button and pointing at Red Hood.
The man hesitated a moment. Despite the helmet, he seemed somehow very confused.
But, then, the ex-Robin replied, "I was giving my second brother a wedgie, while he had my youngest brother in a headlock and was trying to make him eat a Monopoly hotel, while my youngest brother was simultaneously kicking my second brother and shooting my older brother with a NERF gun, while my older brother was braiding my younger sister's hair, while she was shooting the camera the bird, while my third brother was standing behind us all, shaking his head in disappointment, and my older sister was standing next to him, wearing a creepy chicken mask that I keep finding in my safe house every few days, before I hide it at someone else's place, before they hide it at someone else's place, before it eventually winds up back at mine, because we honestly have no idea where it came from, and none of us wants it."
"...Can I have it?"
"TAKE IT, PLEASE!"
The unanimous response from all the Bat-Children simultaneously was almost as surprising as the second Robin's answer.
Then, Superman burst through the ceiling, zapped all the control-bug-things with his laser vision, and the game was over.
Jason could not believe he'd actually answered Harley's question so honestly, but it was like he'd had no control over his own mouth. Luckily, he'd still had enough control over his own mind to keep any names out of the story he'd been forced to blurt out.
Bruce was currently grumbling at Clark nearby, as Harley, cuffed and now wearing the chicken mask, was put into a car. Looked like The Dishonorable Robo-Judge Delilah Josephine McLasereyes, esq. - Dick's idea for the middle name, Steph's for the last name, Jason's for the formal titles, and Duke's for "Robo", - was Arkham's newest patient. Good riddance.
Bruce would mope about being rescued by Superman for the next few weeks, no doubt, but it was more than worth it to be rid of that stupid mask.