It is dark, as it always is, inside Wayne Manor when Robin finally comes home after a night of celebrating new year's eve with his friends. Batman sits in the parlor, fully dressed in his costume, a multi-monitor display parked in front of him. He grunts as Robin sits down on a chaise lounge, confetti in his hair, a kazoo stuck in his mouth like a cigar. The jubilant expression on his youthful face irritates Batman, who has spent the last three hours browsing the internet with a scowl on his own weathered visage.
"Happy new year's, Bruce," says Robin, trying to break the ice.
"Have you seen this?" barks Batman, pointing at one of the monitors. "More fake news about the Russia investigation. I've never seen such a witch-hunt. It's goddamn disgusting."
Robin sighs. He knew it would be like this, that ever since the election, Batman's obsession with right wing media had overtaken his life to a disturbing degree. He had hoped that the new year might bring forth another change. It seems that he was mistaken.
"Clark was there. So was Aquaman. We had a drinking contest. Guess who won?" says Robin, desperate to change the topic.
"I took a look into Mueller's record. You won't believe the shit he's done. He's deep state. We're watching the integrity of the United States disappear before our very eyes and no one's doing anything about it," growls Batman, who takes a long sip from a flask that he removed from his utility belt.
"Wonder-woman, that's who won," says Robin quietly. "They asked about you."
"Did they?" says Batman, looking at Robin out of the corner of his eye. "What did all the illegal aliens have to say?"
"Jesus, Bruce. They've been your friends for years," protests Robin.
"I'm not friends with anyone who hasn't been through the proper vetting process," says Batman, shaking his head. "You think Clark has a social security card? Where's his birth certificate, huh? Doesn't that strike you as a little bit suspicious?"
"He's from Krypton, Bruce. He's an alien from outerspace, not Mexico," says Robin.
"Too many of them," mumbles Batman, turning back to his screen. "Taking jobs from real Americans..."
"Name one person who can fly at supersonic speeds, has immense strength, can see through anything, and who can shoot laser beams from their eyes," says Robin.
"I don't know where I went wrong," says Batman suddenly, finally turning to face Robin. "You grew up reading the Federalist papers. I read the Constitution to you as a bedtime story. You were eighteen before you saw a movie that didn't have John Wayne in it. Goddamn it, Robin, I taught you to kick ass and wave an American flag. You used to not ask questions before beating the hell out of somebody. What the hell happened to you?"
"I grew up," says Robin, standing. "Happy new year's, Bruce."
"Goddamn it, call me Batman!" Batman roars. He punches through a monitor and waves his arm around. It seems to be stuck, but Robin doesn't turn back. He's getting tired of these arguments. There has to be a change.
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