Her eyes darted. She searched for an exit. A source of light. A tool for escape. Anything. All she saw was darkness.

Although her hands were tightly restrained behind her back, Barbara Gordon could feel her heart pumping. It was so fast and loud that she could hear the individual beats. Whatever notions she had once had about fear and the effects it can have on the mind and body, she was wrong about all of them. The terror Barbara felt was unlike anything she had ever known, like that of a nightmare you couldn't remember as soon as you woke up but still left your body trembling all the same.

She tried to calm herself. For whatever reason, the panic she felt had only kicked in once he had left her sight. He had left her alone. She had no idea where she was. She guessed that this must have something to do with her father. What better way to demand a huge ransom than by kidnapping the Commissioner of Police's little girl? At least, she hoped that was the reason. This was Gotham. Anything could happen in this city.

Her chest tightened as she tried to consider her options, only to quickly come to the crushing revelation that there were none. She was unable to move. The handcuffs and connecting chain to the wall saw to that. And even if she could move, then what? He almost certainly had this place-wherever it was-locked down. Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he thought the chains would be enough and hadn't even bothered to lock the door. Perhaps he was overly cocky. Perhaps he slept next to a loaded shotgun, making him easy to shoot in his sleep. Perhaps...

She quickly realized this line of thinking was getting her nowhere.

She forced herself to take a deep, long breath, but what came out sounded more like a loud wheezing noise than anything. She searched her memory for anything her father might've told her to do in this situation. She knew she had heard him mention once that the key for any captive to survive a kidnapping was to try to befriend her captor.

Yeah, she had already tried befriending him. Look where that got her.

She wanted to cry...to somehow release her emotions in the hope that doing so would somehow make her feel better. But no tears came. It was probably because she was very dehydrated. She couldn't remember the last time she had a drink. It was probably just as well. One of the last things she wanted to have right now was a full bladder.

In times like this, she knew that other people would turn to God, but Barbara stopped believing in God around the same time she stopped believing in Santa Claus. It wasn't because of a traumatic experience that shook her faith, or because her father hadn't raised her to be religious. It wasn't even because of her mother. The truth of the matter was, she didn't know why she didn't believe. She only knew that prayer wouldn't do her any good right now.

Except that...there was something she believed in. It wasn't God, but it was someone who was almost as mysterious.

"Batman," she softly prayed. "I need you."