Dick walked into Tim's room without even knocking. "You busy? I've got something I need deciphered."

Tim glanced up from his laptop. "Not particularly. What is it?"

Dick handed Tim an index card which looked like it was written in pink gel pen. "I found this, but I can't tell what the hell it's supposed to say. It's just a bunch of random letters, and I've tried matching them with every language I know to come up with some message, but nothing has made any sense. Unless someone wants Batman to deliver them two hundred thousand pounds of mayonnaise somewhere I've got nothing."

Tim laughed as he looked at the card. "Dick, it's text speak. It says they have Robin, and unless Batman gives them two hundred thousand dollars they're going to kill him."

Dick looked from the index card to Tim. "You're lying. There's no way those random letters translate into that."

Tim tried to keep from laughing again, but failed miserably. "No, that's what it says."

Dick rolled his eyes. "You know, I really miss the days when we used to get ransom letters starting with 'Dear Batman, Dearest Batman, To whom it may concern (Batman), and stuff like that. There used to be a time when everything was perfect spelling and grammar, and when you had to decipher a message it was because it actually took detective skills. Now, it's all terrible spelling, text speak, and threats. What happened to the good old days?"

Tim just shrugged. "I don't know, but isn't it kind of nice that you don't even have to bother going to save Robin, 'cause in about 15 minutes, he'll come wandering in griping about their incompetence, or better yet, they'll just drop him on a rooftop with a note that says, 'Sorry you have to deal with him.' I mean, it's kind of nice...all things considered."

Dick was about to scold Tim, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted-by the sound of a slamming door, the stomping of feet, and the distant noise of Damian complaining. "Rope...they used rope...as if that could hold me. They didn't even check me for weapons. Those kidnappers were complete idiots. They deserve to die just for their sheer stupidity." He came storming into the room a few seconds later. "My father said that criminals were a cowardly and superstitious lot...he forgot to mention completely moronic as well."

Dick and Tim burst into laughter, which only seemed to infuriate Damian more. Before a fight could break out, though, Dick went over and ruffled Damian's hair. "Come on, we'll go get some of Alfie's hot chocolate, and you can tell me all about it."

Damian huffed out a breath of annoyance as Dick ruffled his hair, but he had long since given up that fight. "Fine, but I demand cookies as well."

Dick nodded as he started leading Damian out of the room, and tried to calm himself, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. As the two of them were walking out of the room, Tim's soft, 'I told you so,' could be heard loud and clear. Dick chuckled softly at the response, and ignored Damian's demands that he be informed of what Tim had told him. Maybe the old days weren't the only good times.

The End