I Reblog Things Here. Sometimes I Post Things Too

Behind Brad, his two buddies cheer and holler as emojis and reaction stickers float up across the screen. They set up their equipment and get started; throwing banter back and forth, egging each other on, and pushing each other to run more, lift more, punch more. Brad checks the stream chat and keeps up the commentary, challenging the chatters who say they’re doing their own workout. 

When they finish their work out and head out of the gym, they stop to order protein smoothies at the stand in the lobby, still talking shit as they drum up hype for an upcoming competition. The current topic of conversation? Well, who is the most manly and therefore the strongest winner, of course. 

Brad is holding his phone on a selfie stick, Matt and Darek behind him. “Shut ‘ur pie-holes. Imma gonna take both ‘ur asses down tomorrow. I’m man enough to take on anyone and both’a yous knows that.”

Matt finishes his water, twisting and crushing the plastic bottle before he tosses it off screen. “Oh yeah? Anybody at all?”

“Hell yeah, anybody.” 

“What about…” Snorting with laughter, Derek holds up a magazine from a lobby side table. “Even Tim Drake-Wayne?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bad Brad laughs at the ridiculous idea. He takes the magazine and holds it so the chat can see the cover where the Wayne in question poses in an expensive suit. Tim’s watch alone would cost more than Brad’s rent. “If he ain’t too scared!”

The three laugh as Brad throws the magazine back on the table and the chat flies faster, comments a blur of amusement, encouragement, or outrage.

“Nah, nah, that pretty-boy ain’t gonna get in the ring with you,” Matt gets out between barks of laughter.

Derek snorts again and agrees with Matt, “Probs’ not, Daddy Wayne will just bring out the layers.” 

“Mhm, but shit, imagine the press coverage, nothin’ like teachin’ a kid a lesson to launch my name out there.” Brad slaps the table with his free hand as he laughs again.

Matt goes to pick up their smoothie order and Darek pushes his face close enough to Brad’s phone camera that the lens picks up the sweat drying on his forehead. “You heard it here first, folks. Bad Brad is gonna teach Timmy a lesson if he’s not so scared that he hides in his fancy office.” 

Lifting up their protein smoothies, Bad Brad and Monstrous Matt and Daring Darek making a mocking toast to knocking out some of Tim Drake-Wayne’s perfect teeth as a milestone in Brad’s future MMA career.

Bad Brad signs off and closes his livestream, unaware of the can of worms that’s started spiraling across social media. 

===

The Reaction

It doesn’t take long before social media platforms are alight with the clip from Bad Brad’s workout livestream. The comments keep stacking up, Gothamites protesting the mockery and Bad Brad followers continuing the shit talk.

By noon, Tim Drake-Wayne has received no less than 10 messages from friends and family forwarding the clip to him. 

It the family group chat:

Steph: Ohmygodohmygod Timmmm you have to destroy him please please please.

Damian: May his destruction be eternal.

Dick: 👀 👀 👀

Babs: You probs already saw this, but just in case.

Jason: Say the word and I’ll punch out his teeth for you.

Cass: 🤔

And in the Young Just-us group chat:

Kon: So… what do ya wanna do about this?

Bart: Cool, I’ll be sure to bring the popcorn.

Cassie: Take 👏 him 👏 down 👏

And then Bruce messaged Tim directly. 

Bruce: Tim. Just ignore him. Please. It’ll blow over.

Bruce: I can come into WE and we can speak with the PR team.

Tim: DW. I’ll handle it.

Maybe it’s because he’s angry about how patrol went last night, or maybe because it'll be funny. He knows that he doesn’t have to prove anything or defend his honor or whatever. So maybe Tim wants to do something different. Maybe he’s bored, or maybe he’s stressed and overworked, or maybe he wants to do something reckless without thinking through all of the details. 

Tim’s reply is rather quite simple. 

After all, it’s a rather straightforward problem with a simple solution. 

And Bruce messages Tim again. 

Bruce: Tim. Not like that. Please take the tweet down.

Bruce: Tim

Bruce: Tim

Bruce: Tim

Tim ignores him. 

===

The Lead Up

“So, Big Bad Brad, welcome to the show.” 

Brad looking like he’s going to bust out of his cheap suit: “Sure thing, thanks for having me.” 

“When you and your friends made your initial comment, I bet you didn’t expect to end up here.” 

Brad: “Nope, not at all.” 

“And yet here you are, Boisterous Brad, claiming that you’re gonna take down Tim Drake-Wayne in what was initially a boisterous joke. So, do you stand by your claim?”

Brad: “Sure thing. Anytime, anywhere. The Waynes could even make it a charity thing, they like doing those, right? Just so long as Timmy gets in the ring. I’ll show him and all your viewers what makes a real man.” 

“Big bold talk, Bad Brad. You know, some people online are criticizing you for picking a target that’s smaller than you.” 

Brad moves to play his arms out over the back of the couch: “Yeah, I can take the heat. It’s about commitment and dedication. Gotta keep my eye on the prize.” 

“You want to punch Tim Drake-Wayne’s lights out that badly?”

Brad: “Nah, this is just a step to becoming the next greatest MMA fighter. The stage is the prize.” 

“Okay, so that’s all that we have time for tonight–”

Brad gets up and moves to the center stage: “All right, lets hear some Big Bad Brad noise!” 

Brad hypes up the audience. 

Brade takes off his suit jacket and his button-up shirt looks very tight. He puts his fists together in front of his chest, hunching forward as he flexes and rips his shirt at the seams. The muscles in his neck strain and a vein pops out on his forehead. 

The crowd goes wild.

Brad: “Hell yeah! You hear that Timmy? You better meet me in the ring! Your nepo-baby hands won’t be able to catch what T’ll be throwin’ down.” 

~~~

Once again, Tim’s response is simple. 

And the next day he does multiple reps of weights that are much more than Tim’s body weight.

And the next day he wins an MMA competition for national qualifiers. 

And the next day Bad Brad runs a marathon. 

At the end of each video, Brad puts his face up close to the camera, bold and smug and confident, saying that he’s gonna “beat little Timmy’s ass,” and how “I’m gonna throw him outa the ring,” and “I’m gonna show that pasty white boy what’s what,” and “Timmy weighs, like, 90lbs sopping wet? I just lifted 500lbs,” and “this is what’s gonna happen when I punch Timmy in the face,” and “they better have med-evac ready, ‘cause ‘ur gonna need it, Timmy,” so on and so forth because– clearly and obviously –Big Bad Brad is so much more of a man than Tim Drake-Wayne ever hopes to be.

Each time, Tim’s response to the training videos stays simple. 

And that just makes Brad train harder. 

~~~

The video shakes and blurs a bit like the person holding the phone is walking quickly. Viewers can see a side walk with a few people, a street of slowly moving cars, and the side of an old gothic office building followed by the side of a brutalist smooth concrete skyscraper, before a figure comes into frame and the camera settles. 

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! A moment, please,” the person behind the phone says, their other hand coming into frame as they hold up a fluffy microphone. 

Dick Grayson-Wayne turns around, his face lighting up in a smile. He’s wearing a navy blue hoodie over a pair of gray slacks along with black and red sneakers. In one hand he has a cardboard tray carrying four coffee cups to-go and his other hand is holding a reusable bag that appears to be full of snacks. “Hey there, what’s up? And please, Mr. Wayne is my father, ‘Dick’ or ‘Grayson’ is great.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grayson. Your brother, Tim Drake-Wayne, has yet to make a public appearance. As Media Manager for Wayne Enterprises, do you have any commentary on his upcoming fight with influencer Bad Brad?” 

Immediately, Dick’s cheery customer-service mask breaks out into true glee as he snorts a laugh before suppressing his giggles by biting his lip. He’s trying and failing to contain the grin that reaches all the way up to his eyes, stumbling over his words as he restarts his sentence. “He’s, um– Tim is– I mean that– It’ll certainly be a show.” 

The person behind the camera holds up their mic a bit more insistantly. “Can you please elaborate on that statement?”

“Actually, look at the time, I gotta go. Have a good day!” Dick says as he backs up and then turns around. The camera watches Dick walk away for a moment and it’s clear that his shoulders are lightly shaking with laughter as he shakes his head and steps around the next street corner. 

Within moments of the video being posted online, the comments start stacking up.

~~~

Another video that’s a bit blurry and shaky as the holder moves into position. Clearly, they’re in a lobby of some sort with polished black floors and glass windowed walls where employees in suits move in the background. The video focuses on none other than Jason Todd-Wayne and Damian al Ghul Wayne as the camera holder holds out a microphone. 

“So, anything you want to say about your brother’s upcoming fight? Any concerns for him? Any advice? Any bets?”

Despite being Head of Security for WE, Jason is wearing a well-loved red zip-up hoodie over a white button up shirt and cargo pants, a utility belt probably somewhere on his person. He looks down at his brother (because Jason is 6’6 built like a shit brick house) and smirks wildly enough to flash his teeth at the camera. “No comment.” 

As Charity Director for the Wayne Foundation, Damian is wearing a lovely gray suit with an emerald green tie. Even with being on the taller side of average height, he has to slightly tilt back his head to meet Jason’s eyes and his responding smirk is more controlled but no less impactful. “Indeed, no comment.” 

“Oh, uh, really? Because it sure seems like you have some thoughts–” 

Jason waves a hand in dismissal while Damian turns and walks towards the elevators. “We said, ‘no comment,’ now get lost unless you want me to direct you to the exit.” 

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” 

The video blurs as the camera falls down to the floor and is immediately cut off. Once again, the comments go wild with their assumptions. 

~~~

The video clicks on and a young woman smiles at her camera as she holds up her phone. She’s wearing coveralls over a button up shirt, thick working gloves tucked in her pocket and a utility belt around her waist. It looks like her nametag reads ‘Lizabet Droite’ even though her username is ‘CroissantCrusher.’ “Everyone say ‘hi’ to Miss Cass!”

As Lizabet scoots her rolling desk chair next to Cass’s, Cass leans into frame and waves. With her hair buzzed down to half an inch, Cass is wearing a moon and star patterned lilac blouse over black cargo pants.

“In return for how I’ve so generously helped to deliver a huge box of letters, Miss Cass has agreed to share a few words about her brother’s upcoming fight,” Lizabet explains. 

Nodding, Cass gives the camera a smile that could be described as knowing. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s what we all know, but what do you think about the fight? Your brother is going to get mauled in that ring!” 

The corner of her black-lipsticked mouth lifts higher and Cass gives a double thumbs-up to the camera. 

For a moment, Lizabet looks flabbergasted and then she doubles down. “Okay so are all of you Wayne kids mad at Tim? Did Timbit do something? Or is there something that we just don’t know about?” 

“Time to go back to work!” Cass says cheerily, thumping an absolutely massive bin of letters onto the desk in front of Lizabet. 

“No, wait, but I need more information!” 

Cass maintains eye contact with Lizabet for a few more seconds before she slowly rolls away in her office chair. 

“S'il te plaît !” 

But Cass appears to be gone. 

Lizabet brings her phone in close so that her face takes up the screen and in a very serious tone she says, “Okay… so angry-siblings not confirmed, but a trick-up-their-sleeve also not confirmed? Something is definitely going on.”

A letter appears to bean Lizabet in the head. 

“Ach! Okay! Okay! I’m going!” Lizabet groans dramatically and then mutters without any anger, “Bête…” and then the video clicks off. 

~~~

For now the ring is clear, but outside of the ring is rather a flurry of commotion. On their own sides of the stadium, Tim Drake-Wayne and Bad Brad are getting ready to throw down. 

As an MMA influencer, Brad is a big guy who's in shape and he's won a few fights already. As he stretches and warms up, Monstrous Matt and Daring Darek are there to hype him up. Some audience members who are sitting in the front row nearest to Brad can hear how much the three friends are shit-talking and making fun of Tim. It would almost make one feel bad, if they weren’t so excited to see the carnage. Bad Brad looks fired up and ready to go. 

On the opposite side of the stadium, Tim looks itty bitty in comparison. For the moment, his family surrounds him, either glaring daggers at the pointed news cameras or radiating utter glee with laughter and big smiles (even the Official Unofficial Wayne kids, Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas, have shown up). Except for Bruce who radiates Dad Energy has he hovers and fusses. Finally, Jason appears to herd everyone off to their seats, leaving Dick to help Tim wrap his hands. 

For a moment, audience members (or at least those who are paying attention to Tim’s corner of the stadium) are surprised to also see MMA fighter Luke Fox standing with the two Wayne brothers, but that isn’t startling enough because he's also a lot more fit than people were expecting. Tim Drake-Wayne– adopted by the Prince of Gotham, CEO at 17, and occasional model –isn’t normally seen outside of a three piece suit between work, galas, and public event appearances. However, today, Tim is wearing basketball shorts and a fitted tank top that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. 

He’s got good muscle tone, well defined arms and legs, and maybe even the outlines of pecs and abs under his tank top. And on top of all that! He’s got more scars than people expected! (Which was zero). Not only are his arms and legs peppered with the pale marks, but his throat has clearly been slashed in the past and are those burn marks over his shoulders and the back of his neck???

Tim Drake-Wayne: adopted by the Prince of Gotham, CEO at 17, occasional model, and native Gotham blood through and through. 

Audience members and viewers alike start whispering, start doubting how they expected this match to go. And when Tim hops into the ring and he squares up like an actual fighter? Well, that’s when people start sweating about the bets they placed. 

Then the bell rings and Tim wipes Brad across the fucking floor.

He's fast and ruthless, immediately rushing in to close the distance, clearly using his smaller stature for speed and getting inside Brad’s defence. Brad tries to duck and weave, attempting to dance away, but Tim is just too fast, too precise. He blocks two of Brad’s hits and then he is in Brad’s space and climbing him to lock legs around the guy's neck and throwing him to the mat with his momentum. The fight is fast, which people expected, but not because Tim is being pounded into the mat. It's actually Tim who hammers Brad and takes him down before he knows what's happening, which isn't what anyone expected. 

Or at least it wasn't expected by anyone who doesn't know Tim.

All of the Waynes are wildly cheering.

Tim doesn’t really have to keep Brad pinned on the mat– maybe he could or maybe he couldn’t, considering their difference in size –because Brad appears to either be KO’ed or too stunned by what just happened to get up while the referee counts “3, 2, 1, out!” and the first victory bell rings. 

The second fight goes differently. 

“We’re going to do a dollar drive!” Tim announces as he hops into the ring again. “One dollar may not seem like much, but if everyone were to donate just one dollar to the Neon Knights, then we’d be able to raise thousands of dollars together! Come on, everyone now, just one dollar. Scan the QR code on the banner, or for those of you who have cash, my family is going around through the audience with buckets.” 

As Tim works the crowd, Big Bad Brad just watches, once again stunned. 

It’s like this is a performance for Tim. 

Just another charity drive. 

On the screens hanging above the center of the stadium, the total donation numbers start rapidly ticking up one by one by one. Apparently the next stretch goal is that Brad will be put in a dunk tank. Brad does not remember agreeing to this. 

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!” Tim calls. He squares up, his stance wide, center of gravity low, and fists up to protect his face, which is still cheerfully– confidently –smiling. “And! If you’re feeling generous after the dollar drive, then for every blow that Bad Brad manages to land on me, I hope that you’ll consider donating another dollar.” 

Brad squares up, a mountain of muscle that is parallel in form to Tim’s lean stature. “Then you better hope that everyone has deep pockets, because I’m not holding back this time. I’m gonna beat your ass.” 

Tim just smiles. 

The bell rings and they’re back at it. 

Brad leads with heavy fists and Tim dodges easily, weaving from side to side and ducking, and then Brad’s fist actually connects with Tim’s cheek, knuckles practically cracking against his cheekbone and whipping his head to the side. The stadium goes completely silent before breaking out into a ruckus of cheers and the donation numbers continue to rise. 

Appearing somewhat surprised that he actually landed a hit, Brad goes still for a fraction of a moment, but it’s all that Tim needed to push himself against the ropes of the ring where he’d been cornered to launch a flying, double-footed kick right to the center of Brad’s chest. As Brad rolls across the mat, Tim lands in what can only be called a Super Hero Pose, before he’s springing back to his feet and closing in on Brad who scrambles back into position.

Brad manages to land one more hit to Tim’s ribs before Tim has Brad back down on the mat, thighs locked around his shoulder and hands holding his arm, holding Brad’s arm in a way that is just on the verge of dislocation. Brad yields and the second victory bell rings.

As Brad steps out of the ring, carefully rolling his strained shoulder, he narrows his eyes at Monstrous Matt and Daring Darek as they each drop dollar bills into the bucket that’s being held by Dick. 

“What?” Matt asks defensively. 

“We can support both you and the charity,” Darek explains. 

“Thank you for your donation!” Dick practically sing-songs as he walks away. Then, when he passes, Brad, he says in a quick string of words, “That’swhatyougetforpickingonmylittlebro. Okay, byeee~” 

Brad whips around, snarling at the oldest Wayne sibling’s retreating back. “Get back here and say that again, you dick!” 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” Dick blows a mocking kiss and saunters back to the Waynes’ side of the stadium. 

And again, the third fight is different from the first two. 

With every hit that Tim lets land, he just bounces back without any trouble. Brad’s taunts have fallen silent and it’s rather appearing more like he’s just trying to keep up. Tim’s fist to Brad’s chin. Brad’s foot to Tim’s side. Brad just picks Tim up and throws him, but Tim summersaults through the landing. Brad’s foot to Tim’s mouth. And then Tim catches Brad’s kick, twisting his leg in a way that throws Brad’s whole body to the mat. 

While Brad lays slightly dazed, probably thinking about how badly he’s lost 3 to 0, Tim delicately touches a finger to his split, bleeding lip while saying, “I yield.” 

The referee stares in at Tim with wide eyes because Tim is currently the one who is standing while Brad lays on his ass. “Uh, lad, are you sure?” 

“Yeah, we still have a few more donation goals to reach,” Tim says, like it’s obvious. That’s what makes people really realize that Tim is letting the match draw out to get the most donations and betting that he can. 

It’s only after Tim steps out of the ring that the bell is rung for Brad’s first victory. 

The fourth match is rather the same as the third. 

Once again, Tim yields suddenly during the fight, as he and Brad are circling each other with their fists raised. However, both of them look rather worse for wear. While Tim has clearly outmatched Brad, the blows that Brad has landed on Tim’s pale skin show up as startling red marks, if they aren’t complete bruises already. 

With two wins each– regardless of technicality –it’s the second wind that Brad needs to try and clutch the fight. 

He puts on a good show, but in the end, it is indeed Tim Drake-Wayne who puts Bad Brad down on the mat in a complete KO: unconscious and probably concussion-inducing knock out.