Chapter Text
Barry
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Barry was in Gotham specifically on a mission assigned by Batman. The man had been particularly salty about it, assigning rules and ‘sending my supervision,” which wasn’t really threatening. Shocker.
As the sun set, Barry skipped into a diner, where a robbery was apparently happening; already the fifth, sixth? And it’s only the downtown area.
“Put your hands up in the air!” a maniacal man with green hair beside a blonde woman shouted. Shoot. He didn’t have his Flash costume. He wasn’t allowed to just run around saving lives either, Batman would be… prideless. A man stripped of pride.
Talking them out of this would be the only option then. He was half sure it would work, it worked on his rogues. Kind of. Enough to make them regret murder.
“Guys, don’t do this,” He sighs, “This isn’t who you want to be. Green guy, Blonde woman, what’s your name?” Barry said, raising his hands up in the air.
Silence fell onto the diner.
“What?” a patreon who hadn’t stopped eating, casually sitting on a seat asked.
“I dunno either, what a silly guy!” The blonde woman smiles, showing her pearly teeth; Barry smiles back.
“Miss, I’m sure your family wouldn’t want this. And sir, are you sure you want to go to prison?” Barry convinced. They genuinely looked shocked. The green haired man’s face twists into a strange mix of mocking and compassion.
It was working.
Suddenly, Barry watched as the customer started cracking up, laughing manically.
“Did someone release the joker gas?” Another victim shouted.
“Nah I didn’t do it. Did ya, Mr J?” Mr J rubs a hand over his face. Barry gets a feeling he usually doesn’t look this distressed. Poor man. First robberies are the hardest.
“No Harley, darling. Hand over all your valuables, I am so, sick of this.” Barry has to try harder.
“Don’t do this. People could get hurt, lose their lives. You could go to jail.” Barry insisted. These people were just good people having a bad day.
“No way. No fucking way. Is he trying to fucking dissuade Harley Quinn and The Joker from committing a crime?” a voice
asked in disbelief. They must be in shock.
“No way. Did anyone get this on tape?”
“Oh my god- I can’t-“ someone fell right ontop of the green-haired man.
How had Barry not noticed him- them before? It was two people. One well-built man dressed in a biker’s jacket with a red helmet and enough guns to fill a tank. Another, a messy haired teen with a X-shaped utility belt on his chest, with a expensive camera.
Kids who wanted to be superheroes, his mind supplied. Gotham was horrible.
“Sure should’ve tried that tactic when you were getting wrecked with the ‘bar huh?” the younger teen said. The man turns his red brick head slowly towards the teen.
“Shut-up, RR. O? Please tell me you got that all on tape. Send that to Dickface right now.”
“Rude, and unrelated but holy, bro the jokerized fries are so good what do they put in these?” the customer, still somehow eating, replied.
“Right? Like personally I always thought they were too salty but like their out of this world. Still can’t find the recipe to this day.” The man with the helmet chatted.
“You’re just mad he beat’cha up.”
“RR, take down Harls.” The man with the biker jacket pointed to the blonde woman who was waving excitedly. “Hi y’all! How’s the big man?”
“Not bad. Hey want me to break ya out of prison later? S wants to go on a shopping spree.” The younger teen replied, pulling out a bo staff.
Before Barry could tell them to stop, the teen made swift work of the blonde woman who had seemed so intimidating before.
“You guys are kids! Don’t fight them!” Barry protested. Snickers ran through the diner. Both the hooded man and the teen sighed in disbelief. Someone in the criwd complains about being late to work. ‘Free Flash entertainment,’ another replies.
“Here, you run real fast right? Give these two to the police. No more shit about reforming. These two are mass murderers.” The teen threw the duos limp bodies into Barrys hands. Mass murderers was slightly extreme.
How did he know Barry was the Flash-No, ge probably just thought Barry looked athletic enough.
The eating customer rushed to pay the bill, and handed the waiter a tip before running after the vigilantes.
Who were those people?