Work Text:
It had been a while since Tucker had held a steady job. After bouncing from one gig to the next, he had finally landed a position at Wayne Enterprises.
The office was sleek and modern, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.
On his first day, Tucker couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu as he walked down the hallway. The way Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne moved with a certain precision, the way their eyes swept over their surroundings with an intensity that was almost unsettling – it all clicked into place.
He had seen it before, back in high school with Danny. The same casual posture that belied an underlying readiness to jump into action at a moment’s notice. The way he always studied the room, as if he was mentally cataloging every exit and potential threat.
And here it was again.
Tucker couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he continued his work, occasionally stealing glances at the dynamic duo. He knew he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but come on, it wasn’t rocket science. He figured everyone in the office had to know by now.
Bruce Wayne was Batman and Tim Drake-Wayne was Red Robin.
It wasn’t like Tucker had pieced together a complex puzzle, he figured it was one of those 'don't ask, don't tell' situations. Like Danny's secret back in high school.
The townsfolk had known, of course, but it was one of those unspoken agreements. You didn’t go blurting out someone’s clandestine night gig unless you were looking for trouble. Especially if the GIW showed up in their starched white suits, flashing badges and asking questions. Those guys could shove it where the sun didn’t shine for all Tucker cared.
Basically everyone knew unless the feds were asking.
That's how it was with Danny.
So when Tucker saw Bruce and Tim doing their thing at Wayne Enterprises, he just nodded to himself and kept his mouth shut.
He obviously figured out the other vigilantes' identities too. It didn’t take a detective to spot them.
But Red Hood had him second-guessing.
Tucker knows intimately what death feels like, and when he looks at Red Hood, he sees it reflected in the vigilante.
Red hood is dead.
And Crime Alley was his haunt.
Tucker has learned early on to NEVER cross the line and venture into someone's territory without their say-so.
So, he stays faaar away from Crime Alley.
And, it's not like he's a saint, mind you. Tucker’s got his own shadows he keeps tabs on. He keeps a close ear to the ground, mostly for Danny’s sake.
Tucker always made it a point to keep his finger on the pulse of the criminal underworld.
It wasn’t for any grandiose purpose, but rather a self-preservation instinct that had been honed over the years. Plus, it paid to know who was who and what was what when you’re in the business of not getting killed.
Tucker’s not exactly a saint himself, but he’s got lines he won’t cross. Not anymore.
So, he makes it a point to leave important intels on the Waynes desk every morning before anyone else shows up. Just little scraps of paper, folded neatly in half, with the day’s date scribbled on the top. Nothing fancy, just a heads up on what’s going down in the dark alleys that the Bats might want to know about.
Tucker doesn’t bother with the formalities. No need for fancy codes or encrypted emails. He keeps it simple, straight to the point.
"The Riddler will attack this location"
"The Joker is planing an escape at this time"
"Here is the locacion of a child trafficking ring"
That type of information.
Simple and straightforward.
So he's not exactly sure why he's currently being interrogated by the Bats.
"Look, I didn’t think it was that big a deal! I figured everyone already knew who you guys were.”
The room went silent.
Nightwing raised an eyebrow. “You... what?”
“Well, yeah,” Tucker said, confused by their confusion. “It wasn’t hard to figure out! I mean, Bruce Wayne suddenly adopting a bunch of kids who all just happen to match the ages and fighting styles of Gotham’s vigilantes? You’re not exactly subtle.”
Red Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god. He thinks we’re obvious.”
Tucker frowned. “You are obvious. Everyone knows! They’re just polite enough not to say anything.”
Batman's eyes narrowed, his tone icy. “No, they don’t. We keep our identities secret for a reason.”
"Uh, yeah. Obviously.” Tucker raised a brow. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to have the Feds breathing down your neck? Keeping a low profile is, like, rule number one. I assumed it was the same for you guys.”
“You assumed what?” Red Hood—Jason Todd—sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
“Secret identities,” Tucker explained slowly, “are so the government doesn’t get their grubby hands on your tech, your gadgets, or your DNA.”
Batman frowned, his arms still crossed. “Our secret identities protect our loved ones from being targeted by criminals. Not… the government.”
"Wait, wait, wait,” Tucker said, holding up his hands. “So you’re telling me—seriously telling me—that secret identities are to protect your family from your rogues?”
“Yes,” Batman said flatly, arms crossed.
“Not to, you know, keep your family or the government from dissecting you?” Tucker added, eyebrows raised.
Red Robin blinked. “Why would we be worried about that?”
“Oh. Ohhhhhh.” Tucker leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “That… actually explains so much.”
Red Hood frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well,” Tucker started hesitantly, “hypothetically, what would you think about a vigilante whose rogues all already know his identity, but his family doesn’t? And he wants to keep it that way because, uh, he’s pretty sure his family would kill him if they found out? Is that normal?”
The Batfamily stared at him, varying levels of concern and confusion crossing their faces.
Nightwing finally said, cautiously. “Why would his family be the bigger threat?”
Tucker flinched. “Hypothetically.”
Batman stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “Who are you talking about?”
“No one!” Tucker said quickly, holding up his hands. “Just, you know, a random thought. Totally not based on anyone I know.”
Before Batman could press further, Tucker shook his head and pivoted back to his earlier rant. “Wait, wait, wait....You’re telling me your rogues don’t know who you are out of costume?” Tucker asked, his voice incredulous.
“They don’t,” Red Robin said flatly. “That’s kind of the point.”
“But… how do they know where to attack?” Tucker pressed.
“They don’t know where to attack," Nightwing cut in, his tone calm but clearly confused by the line of questioning. “That’s why we keep our identities secret. So they don’t know where to go or who to target.”
Tucker blinked, his brain clearly trying to process what he’d just heard. “So you’re telling me you want your rogues to attack at random?”
"No,” Batman growled. “When we fight them, we arrest them. So they don’t attack again.”
Tucker blinked, completely baffled. “And… if they escape?”
“We put them back,” Red Robin said, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.
“There is no scheduled fight,” Batman said, his voice sharp. “The goal is to stop the fighting.”
Tucker stared at them, jaw slightly slack. “Wait, you make them stop? Completely?”
“Yes,” Batman said again.
“What about their obsessions?” Tucker asked, throwing his hands in the air.
The Batfamily collectively froze, their expressions ranging from confusion to cautious alarm. Tucker's tone wasn’t accusatory—it was genuinely baffled and concerned.
Nightwing finally asked, his brow furrowed. "What exactly do you mean?"
"If they don’t fulfill their obsessions, they’ll die! You guys can’t just… stop them without replacing it or redirecting it!" Tucker's voice was rising with genuine panic now, and he stared at them like they were the crazy ones.
The heroes, not knowing a thing about ghost culture and not realizing they were on entirely different wavelengths, exchanged increasingly uneasy glances.
Finally, Red Robin hesitantly ventured, “Uh… that’s what therapy is for?”
Tucker blinked at him, deadpan. "Therapy? Therapy?! HOW IS THERAPY GONNA HELP ANYTHING?!"
His outburst made the room go dead silent.
"If they don’t fulfill their obsessions, they’ll die!" Tucker continued, his voice full of earnest horror. He gestured wildly as if the Batfamily was being obtuse on purpose. "Like, cease to exist! Fade out! Poof, gone! No afterlife, no second chances, nothing! They need their obsessions to survive!"
Now it was the Batfamily’s turn to panic a little.
Nightwing blinked. "Wait… what?"
"You think I’m joking?” Tucker threw up his hands again. “I’m serious! You make them stop without giving them something else to latch onto, and they’re done for. You might as well pull the plug yourself!"
The Batfamily just stared at him, utterly baffled by his words.