Chapter 319: A Rare Moment of Cracked Composure for Allen
After a long day of work, Barbara dragged her exhausted body home, feeling more drained than when she was out fighting crime.
She couldn't help but mentally curse the cruelty of capitalists and their shameless exploitation of the working class.
Still, capitalists were a necessary cog in society. They didn't require superpowered vigilantes to bring them down—there were countless human rights organizations to take up that role.
"I just wish I could eat something hot right now."
Keys in hand and arms laden with fresh groceries, Barbara remembered she still had to care for a certain lunatic at home. She suddenly recalled how, back when she and Nightwing were spending time together, she was usually the one cooking.
"What am I thinking? It's not like Allen and I are a couple."
She gave her head a quick shake, trying to toss away the absurd thought.
Click.
The key slid into the lock, and she pushed the door open.
Inside, she was greeted by the sight of Allen and the four members of the Birds of Prey seated around the dining table, all turning to look at her in unison.
"You're all here!"
Barbara smiled and said, "Then help me prep the ingredients, will you?"
"No need, Allen already made dinner."
Harley couldn't wait to lift the thermal cover, revealing a steaming plate of beef pan-fried buns.
As the saying goes—share blessings, share misfortunes.
They'd embarrassed themselves earlier that day, so of course they had to drag Barbara into the mess too.
"Allen, you know how to cook?"
Barbara gave him a skeptical look, eyeing him up and down like she couldn't quite believe it.
Tch...
With a haughty air, Allen tilted his head at a 45-degree angle to gaze at the ceiling and muttered to himself, "Am I supposed to tell you that I once worked as the head chef for the League of Assassins? That I opened a chain of restaurants at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters? Please, don't focus solely on my dazzling good looks—I have many hidden talents."
As he spoke, Allen lifted his hospital gown to expose his bellybutton with immense pride. "Take this, for example—my bellybutton is pink. Isn't it just adorably pink?"
"…"
The women all gave him a long, unreadable look… then turned away.
Clearly, spending time with a mental patient had started to mess with their own brain circuits.
Among them, Black Canary Dinah glanced deeply at Allen. It suddenly clicked—he really had been part of the League of Assassins.
She'd been with Green Arrow Oliver before and had even joined the League herself briefly, so she had some inside knowledge.
And to this day, the League's top bounty target was Allen.
It just hadn't occurred to her to connect the dots until now.
"Quit dawdling, come eat while it's still hot," said Pamela, tugging Barbara over to sit, clearly excited to see her get pranked.
Harley could barely contain her grin, already imagining the glorious moment when soup from the bun would squirt all over Barbara's face.
"This feels off…"
Barbara picked up a beef bun suspiciously, eyeing her teammates with doubt.
"You can question my innocence and chastity, but you may not question my culinary skills."
Allen arrogantly turned his gaze back to the ceiling, clearly avoiding eye contact out of guilt—but his over-the-top dramatics distracted Barbara from her doubts.
"We all ate already," Helena chimed in. "We saved one just for you."
"That's sweet of you. Thanks."
Truth be told, after a long, tiring day, Barbara really didn't want to cook. Sure, white-people food was quick and simple, but the flavor was often… uninspiring, and that did nothing to lift her already down mood.
With four pairs of eyes watching her expectantly, Barbara took a cautious bite of the fragrant beef bun.
"Ahh! My eyes!"
"Why'd it shoot into my hair again?!"
"Wait—this time it splattered outward?!"
"…"
Things didn't go as expected.
Instead of pranking Barbara, the bun's juice burst outward and sprayed all over the four women's faces and hair, leaving them all stunned.
What the hell just happened? This wasn't how the scene was supposed to go.
Four pairs of accusing eyes turned toward Allen's chair—
Only to find it empty.
"When did he disappear?"
Just then, Allen crawled out from under the table, wearing a look of pure innocence. "Oops, I made a mess again. You're all sticky now. Let me wipe it off for you."
As he spoke, Allen reached into the waistband of his hospital pants.
The four women instinctively sprang back.
"Allen, what the hell are you doing?" Pamela asked, her first thought being that he was about to pull off his underwear to use it as a towel.
"To get tissues. What else?"
Sure enough, Allen pulled out the loose end of a roll of toilet paper tucked inside his pants and began pulling—with both hands. The more he pulled, the longer it got. He didn't stop until the entire roll had been unraveled.
"Why the hell would you stash a whole roll of toilet paper in your pants?!" Dinah stared at him wide-eyed.
Allen responded with a cryptic smile and an embarrassed giggle. "I'm building a nest. To hatch a baby chick… that'll grow into a Kunpeng."
"…"
So he's finally admitting he's got a small one.
Poor guy.
The four women's expressions softened into sympathy. They no longer felt like scolding him for the prank.
They could all tell Allen had definitely rigged the buns to squirt like that—yet again making them the butt of a joke.
"W-What's with those eyes? I'm telling you, I'm huge! It's been a burden my whole life!"
Allen tried desperately to defend himself. "My psych ward buddies even gave me the nickname 'Amazon Anaconda'! I just didn't want to brag."
But the women's expressions only grew more pitying.
Excuses always meant denial. No man would willingly admit he was small.
"Fine! If you don't believe me, I'll just unleash the beast and show you what a real serpent looks like!"
Allen, ever the proud man, began pulling his pants down on the spot.
"We believe you! We believe everything you say!" Harley cut in with a mocking grin, making a hand gesture to suggest something very small.
"I can't live like this. I've lost all dignity."
Allen stormed off in a huff toward the bathroom—but his steps were tiny, because his pants were halfway down and wouldn't let him take full strides.
"What the hell just happened?"
Barbara was completely lost. Everything had seemed normal… then Allen suddenly lost it.
"These buns are actually pretty good. Anyone want one?"
"No thanks."
The moment they saw the buns again, all four women were fuming.
BANG!
The bathroom door flew open as Allen burst out, pants tenting impressively in front, casting a smug, disdainful look at them all.
"Did you seriously shove the cardboard tube from the roll into your pants?" Dinah shot straight to the point.
"Of course not! I've always been like this!" Allen insisted defiantly.
"Then why won't you look anyone in the eye? Feeling guilty?" Harley pressed.
Hmph…
Allen huffed and struck a proud pose. "My eyes can't tolerate even a grain of sand."
Crash!
A dark shadow smashed through the glass window, embedding itself in the dining table.
It was a bat-shaped shuriken—lodged at a diagonal angle.
"Batman!"
Harley's neck stiffened as she anxiously scanned the room, knowing the Dark Knight was likely lurking in the shadows.
After all, she'd had plenty of run-ins with him back in Gotham.
"So Bats has come to New York… must be that Gotham fell apart without me there to keep order. That guy can't manage anything on his own."
Allen squinted into the distance and declared, full of self-assurance, "I don't have my comedic costume with me, but that doesn't stop me from going online as Bat-Man."
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