A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot fulfilling the prompt of "Collared and Chained" for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Then I took the idea and ran with it. Oops?

"How much longer will they be?"

James Gordon had to pull back his gloves to check his watch. "I'll give them another ten minutes." He rubbed his hands together to try and get some warmth back into his fingertips.

The officer standing next to him—Gordon's assigned body guard—huffed, causing the air around him to fog up. "The old Batman never took this long."

Gordon gave the man—Michael Heymann—a wary eye. The commissioner didn't know who was under the Batman mask, necessarily, but knew that for the last several months it wasn't the same guy. It happened occasionally, and he usually figured it was an injury. Mostly he was glad there was always somebody to patrol with Robin, because—especially with this newest one—he got the feeling that the kid would be out regardless.

But the Real Batman had never disappeared for this long before.

It was only a matter of time before somebody else figured it out, too.

"The new guy's always late to these things." Officer Heymann leaned back against the air conditioning unit attached to the roof and crossed his beefy arms. "Doesn't take his job as seriously."

Heymann jumped almost a foot in the air when somebody whispered, "Say it to his face, then."

"Robin," Batman admonished. The vigilante shifted, and it was as though the shadows unwrapped themselves from his cape. "Commissioner."

Gordon nodded. "Batman."

Robin cleared his throat.

"Robin," he added.

"Gordon," Robin nodded in acknowledgment.

Heymann recovered from his shock with annoyance. "What took you so long? We've been waiting out here an hour!"

Batman coolly stepped back to judge the other officer. "We came as soon as we could." He addressed the commissioner as he continued, "Apprehended five perps involved in a jewelry store robbery. They are waiting on the corner of fifth and Blackthorne."

Robin, facing Gordon, felt the other officer looking at him. He glanced over his shoulder to see an odd look on his face.

"We will send a crew to pick them up immediately," the commissioner said. He noticed Robin watching the other man, so gestured for Michael to step forward. "Batman, Robin, this is Officer Heymann."

Heymann nodded his head, and the vigilantes mirrored the curt greeting.

"You don't usually bring fans to these meetings," Robin grumbled. The man was big, built like a gym rat. And he kept sneaking glances at him like he was hiding something.

Comissioner Gordon frowned. "It was outside my control."

"I'm his body guard," Heymann offered. He stood a few centimeters taller as he announced it.

At Batman's questioning silence, Gordon continued. "Somebody has been sending me anonymous threats. We thought they were harmless, but the mayor and two members of city council received similar letters this morning, with blackmail."

Batman hummed in agreement. "Show me?"

"Right. This way."

The vigilantes and Officer Heymann followed the commissioner into his office, where he promptly closed the blinds and pulled open his laptop. A manilla folder had been nestled inside. "The threats were delivered through the mail, no return address." He showed a copy of one of the letters. "Typed in a 12-point font, typical printer ink, on basic printer paper."

He handed the copy to Batman, who examined it a moment before passing it to Robin. "And the blackmail?"

"Yes, I can pull it up on my laptop." The commissioner paused his typing to look up over his screen. "The victims asked we not share the direct evidence with many people. It is. . . private information." He gave Robin a pointed look.

Robin crossed his arms. "Is it sex? That does not bother me."

Batman pointed at the door.

Robin's face twisted with irritation. "I am not a toddler!"

"Robin." The voice was stern, but had an undercurrent of something more fond underneath.

Robin pursed his lips, but slipped out the door without another word of protest.

Heymann watched him leave with crossed arms. He only barely glanced over his shoulder at Batman and Gordon, saying, "I'll make sure he stays out of trouble," before he followed Robin out the door.

Damian decided to wait on the roof. It was too crowded inside, and too warm for his thermal Robin suit to tolerate. Grayson had to be sweating downstairs.

He sat in the shadow of the air conditioning unit, surveying the Gotham skyline, itching to get moving again. He and Grayson had already seen the gist of the blackmail; Grayson had warned him to feign naiveite for the night. He bristled under the censorship until it was explained to him that Alfred would encourage 'further discussion on the topic' if anybody knew he had seen it.

"Hey, kid." Damian's gaze shot toward the door. He was not at all surprised to see that the man had followed him. Some body guard he was.

Damian stood and faced him, stepping barely out of the shadows. "You may address me as 'Robin.'"

The man smiled, and there was that expression again. But it was sharper, wider. With a chill, Damian understood it better this time.

It was predatory.

He dropped his weight into the balls of his feet and his fingers curled into fists. "You are hiding something."

Heymann's smile stretched, and then a laugh bubbled out. "You're a smart kid, eh? Guess one of you would have to be."

He took a step forward. Damian realized belatedly that he was cornered between the air conditioning unit and the edge of the building. He could grapple away, but then he wouldn't get his answers.

No, he would fight this out. But first, he had to catch the guy.

"Look, I need to make this fast." Heymann pulled out a gun from his holster.

Damian froze. The fastest way out was over him, but the closer he got, the easier target. And the more deadly.

"Why don't you lie down and put your hands behind you head for me? It will make this easier on both of us."

Damian didn't dare look away from the gun. He didn't know enough about Heymann to know whether he intended to use it.

Slowly, he inched one leg down into a kneel. Heymann's ugly smile got wider. "That's it, easy does it."

Without warning, Damian rolled forward and lunged at the man. The gun clicked when Heymann's finger closed on the trigger. Damian smirked. Empty. This would be easy.

With his momentum, he managed to knock Heymann back a few steps. But it didn't seem to so much as wind the big guy. As Damian retreated, the man swung his gun arm around and managed to make contact with his shoulder. It was hard enough to send him off-balance.

Damian rolled with the momentum it gave him, gritting his teeth when it put pressure on his throbbing shoulder, to stand behind Heymann. He reached for the larger man's right arm to pull him into a pin, but the man ducked and swung a leg back, narrowly missing sweeping out Damian's legs. Damian changed directions, pivoting to land a hard kick to the side of his head. Heymann grunted, but dropped his gun to grab at Damian's leg.

Damian pulled back fast, but not fast enough. With a hard yank, Heymann pulled him closer. With a careful twist, Damian's leg slipped free again.

Damian couldn't help but feel like the man was toying with him. Fast enough to catch him, but slow enough to lose him again? Something was up. Damian frowned as he leapt over Heymann's lunge. He used the man's body as a springboard to launch himself several feet out of his reach. Grayson had taught him that.

Before Heymann could recover, Damian pulled his right arm out and over into a pin, bending the larger man into a kneel.

He took a moment to catch his breath, not daring let his grip soften. He had to use two hands to reach around his arm, and it took his all of his weight on his back to keep the man from rolling over. "Why don't you tell me what you're hiding." Damian smirked in triumph. "It will make this easier on the both of us."

Heymann was panting heavily, but between inhales his breath caught in cloudy puffs of laughter. Damian tightened his grip, pushing the pin a little further.

Without warning, Heymann dropped his left side and rolled. Damian dropped his arm to step back, but not fast enough.

There was a pinch in his thigh. Every muscle in his body contracted as one. Damian dropped like a stone, head cracking against the roof's concrete. Little arcs of electricity leapt from his neck to the comm in his ear, from his chest to the tracker hidden in the 'R' insignia. He clenched his teeth and involuntary tears welled up in his eyes.

"Not bad, kid," Heymann chuckled. He stood up and brushed concrete dust off his uniform pants. A quick roll of his shoulder, and it made a small popping noise before settling.

Heymann watched Damian writhe with a soft smile. "You put up a decent fight."

Finally, he picked up the Taser gun and turned off the electricity. Damian's first instinct was to get up, keep on fighting. His second, much stronger instinct was to sleep. Everything hurt.

Heymann pulled the Taser probes out of Damian's thigh. "It would have been so much easier if you would have just done what I said." He clucked his tongue when Damian glared up at him. "It's the fake Batman's fault, teaching you like this. He doesn't do it the right way."

Before Damian had figured out how to move again, Heymann pulled a syringe from the inside of his jacket pocket and uncapped it. "Wonder where the best place to inject this is?"

It was all beginning to click into place. "You planned this. You're the one who sent the threats."

Heymann shrugged. "I needed some way to get you here, on my terms. And separate you from that imposter."

He knelt over Damian. The boy weakly fought to push him off, but the large man effortlessly pinned Damian's forearms beneath each of his knees with crushing force. The first two catches in his Robin uniform were unclasped too easily; the emergency defense system must have shorted out with the Taser. Heymann pushed Damian's chin up, exposing his neck. "This may pinch."

He thrust the syringe into his neck and pushed in all its contents.

The effects were instantaneous. Damian could feel his muscles relaxing, gravity increasing its pull. Heymann hefted Damian up over his shoulder, and there were a few terribly dizzying seconds of swaying confusion before they entered a small and dark enclosure—the utility closet, his brain supplied. Heymann laid him down almost gently in the corner, where the cold instantly started to leech into his still limbs.

Just as Heymann started to close the door behind him, Damian found words. "Wait."

Heymann paused, reopening the door a sliver of a fraction. "What is it, Robin?"

The way he said it sent chills down Damian's spine. "If you're so mad at him, then why come after me?"

Heymann's braw drew together. "Gotham needs a Batman." He squared his shoulders. "And Batman needs a Robin."

The door shut.

"You think it's a fake," Batman deadpanned.

Gordon nodded. "That's what the evidence points to: an elaborate hoax. But somebody had to have the access to these people, somebody who wouldn't be noticeable—"

There was a loud, rapid series of knocks on the door. Gordon strode to the window and checked who it was before opening it. "Officer Heymann." He frowned. "Where's—"

Heymann was wearing a grave expression. "The kid bolted. I followed him to the roof, and he jumped to the next building over, using one of those things." He mimed using a grapple gun with one hand.

Batman's jaw set, and he let out a curse under his breath. Gordon pressed his lips into a thin line. If Old Batman had heard him talk like that—

Batman had a finger to his ear. "Robin." He waited a second. "Robin, come in."

There was no reply, not even static.

"Which way?" Batman demanded.

"East, toward the financial district."

Batman shot to the roof and took off running toward the rising moon, unaware of his unconscious protégé hidden only a few feet away.