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Jones’ sister had been obsessed with online quizzes recently. She only sent him the ones that she thought he’d enjoy, or she thought would be funny. This one was accompanied with a little description:
Text from: My Fav Sister 💞💞
See how your crime fighters compare 😎👊🏾
The quiz wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t weighed down by unfamiliar song lyrics. It didn’t rely on knowledge of the vigilantes beyond name recognition. All in all, a pretty friendly quiz. He sent her his results and saved the link for the next time they were trapped in the van for an uneventful stakeout.
“If you’re bored,” Jones began, grabbing his phone from the small desk. “I have a personality quiz my sister sent me. She thought it might be fun.”
Neal wasn’t one for personality quizzes, but at hour four in the van, he was willing to try anything. “Send it.”
As soon as he saw the link, Neal was elated.
Which Gotham Vigilante Are You?
Introduction: Are you a tired furry dad? A gunboy with a heart of gold? A lavender goddess of the night? A literal child?
By Stephiebby
“Everyone has to take this,” he declared. This was going to be his entertainment for the night. If the creator was who he thought she was, this was going to be a painfully accurate quiz and he needed to know his friends’ results.
“What is it?” Peter asked, glancing down as their newly established group chat buzzed with the link. “Gotham Vigilantes?”
Diana chuckled, already opening it. “I didn’t realize you were a fan.”
“Who doesn’t like heroes?” Neal shrugged and started his own quiz.
Steph had done a great job with it. There were some in-jokes passed off as normal questions, a couple incomprehensible pop culture references, and one memorable answer that doubled as a call out. He had to fight to keep his face straight as he read through the choices for “Which quote from my gf’s idiot brothers do you vibe with?”
He was curious to see what his description said. He and Steph hadn’t been close for most of their careers, but that changed when she became his Batgirl. It might not have been the best of times, but the three of them had formed their own little team. She was as much his little sister as Cass, and he wanted to know what she thought of him.
Diana finished first, announcing, “I got Robin.”
Dick perked up with interest, “Which one?”
“There’s more than one?”
Thankfully, Jones saved him from having to answer. “Think about it, Robin’s been around for almost 20 years at this point.” Dick tried not to wince at the gentle reminder of his own age. “There has to be more than one Robin.”
She shrugged, accepting the explanation. “Well it says I’m the littlest vigilante, so I guess that’s the current one.”
Dick chuckled. He could see the connection. Though Diana was smoother around the edges than Damian was, it took time to earn her trust, but once she decided you were hers, she was begrudgingly loyal to a fault.
“Who’d you get?” Jones asked, forcing Neal to hurry and finish his own quiz.
The results loaded as he’d expected. Well, almost. Where Diana had gotten a nice picture of Damian perched on the roof of an apartment building, Neal’s phone showed a shot of Nightwing mid swing. Steph, or someone, had edited it so there were sparkles and hearts surrounding him, or more specifically, his ass.
“What’s so funny?” Diana and Jones both leaned over to see the image. They chuckled, but Diana pulled back, giving him a pensive frown.
“Something wrong?” He regained his composure, already drafting a text to Steph, congratulating her for her incredible work.
She shook her head, “No, I just can’t see you as Nightwing.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I thought you were going to get Red Robin,” Jones confessed, putting his support behind his partner. “Sure you’ve got the sense of humor, and he’s a bit of a ladies’ man, but you’re too calculating. Nightwing always seems so easygoing. I mean, the guy gives interviews.”
Dick wanted to defend that he was… himself, but he could see where Jones was coming from. Nightwing had been freedom for him. Freedom he didn’t regret giving up, not for Damian and not for this mission, but he still missed it. There was a weight to Neal Caffrey that went beyond his two-mile tether.
Diana broke him from his thoughts and said, “Besides, no offense Neal, but his ass is much better than yours.”
Okay, that was uncalled for. “What the hell are you talking about? Nightwing isn’t hotter than me.”
The rest of the van erupted into laughter as Dick grappled with his jealousy of himself.
“He’s a superhero,” Jones argued. “Objectively, the man is in better shape. You can see his abs through his costume.”
He could hear Babs laughing at him from wherever she currently was. He was a performer. Part of his whole thing was that he looked good in his uniform. It made people trust him, and people smiled when they saw him doing his work. So what if it was a little form fitting? He was an acrobat, too much material would impede his movements and just get in the way. It was functional.
“I have abs,” he shot back, irrationally wanting some sort of win. “I could be Nightwing.”
Diana rolled her eyes, “Sure, Neal, I’m sure you could pull it off, but Jones is right. Red Robin’s a much better fit for you.
Tim was going to have a fucking field day with that one. Hopefully, his family would consider this a testament to his acting abilities, instead of an opportunity to tease him mercilessly.
“Anyway,” he subtly changed the topic. “Who’d you get, Peter?”
Peter clicked a few things on his phone and gave an appreciative hum. “I got Batman.”
“No.” Dick stared in slowly dawning horror as Peter turned his phone around.
The picture was a classic shot from before Dick had met Bruce. It was of the Dark Knight silhouetted by hazy moonlight as his cape billowed out behind him. Peter had gotten Batman.
If this had been a quiz made by some random fan, Dick would have understood. The people of Gotham saw Batman as the team leader. He was their constant protector. Even as the rest of the family grew, and changed, and moved away, Batman was always there for Gotham. But Steph’s description wasn’t of Batman, at least not in the public sense. She’d written about Bruce, and Dick had to admit, it fit Peter.
“Surprised?” Peter smirked at him, “Did I win or something?”
“Or something.” Dick shook his head. He could have a crisis about Peter and Bruce and father figures later, hopefully with copious amounts of alcohol. “It makes sense.”
He received some odd looks in response, but nobody forced him to explain the connections his brain kept drawing.
“Alright,” Diana broke the tension. “Jones, you took this, right?”
Jones nodded and chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I don’t know if it's that accurate though?”
“What do you mean?” Neal latched on to the new conversation. He was genuinely interested in how Steph’s realism fit with civilians’ perception.
“All I got was a picture of Black Bat that said ‘congrats.’”