A/N: Thank you all for the feedback! I'm surprised you took to this so quickly. Thank you so much!

So, this chapter is in Damian's POV and though nothing too bad happens, I feel like I should put up a trigger warning for some of the things that are implied - even though they're not really heavily implied.

Basically, this whole story should have a trigger warning.

With that being said, enjoy the story.

Damian sulks in the corner, simmering in anger as his brothers – if he can even call them that – all lean against their respective walls, their heads leaned to the side in defeat. He can see the sweat lining Drake's forehead, the nervous darting of Grayson's eyes, the look of pure murder still set on Todd's face, and the bruises that have blossomed on all their necks. Damian's sure that it's on his neck too.

He scowls at the thought. How any one managed to get the better of him, he's not sure of. He's always been too good for that, too talented to be caught in this situation. He understands how the others could have been kidnapped – they've always been sloppy, in no way on his level of expertise.

Especially Drake. It's really no surprise Drake is here.

Damian doesn't remember much. He remembers he and Father were on patrol. Nothing was out of the ordinary. There was a hostage situation and the two got temporarily separated for a reason Damian doesn't even remember. Father probably told him to stay behind, totally against sending him into the scene. A few minutes later, Damian somehow ended up at the back of the building, most likely disobeying his father's orders. Batman may not have known it, but he needed Robin's help, and Damian wasn't just about to let his father's stubbornness stop him from helping him.

Then he felt something fly past and prick his neck, just slightly. So slight he thought nothing of it. Until blackness took over. It happened so fast, he didn't have time to think. One minute everything was normal and the next, he was conked out. Then he woke up here, groggy and sore and surrounded by these bumbling idiots.

That's just wonderful. They're bound to lower his chances of escape. He can't exactly just leave them here if he does get the chance to run. They may not be much, but the mean something to him.

Damn family loyalty.

But without a utility belt, gloves, or even his shoes, he doesn't have much in terms of defending himself. He doesn't even have a way of untying the binds on his wrists or ankles. He already checked; his hidden knives are all gone. Even the ones no other kidnappers he's ever faced have managed to find. These men must have patted him down thoroughly.

The thought makes his scowl deepen. It feels like a violation somehow. He hates the thought of those scumbags searching his clothing for hidden weapons – especially considering some of those weapons were hidden inside his clothing.

Creeps.

"Do you think they're listening to us?" Drake asks, breaking the long standing silence. Damian's eyes dart around the sterile looking white room on instinct. Are they listening to everything they say? They already made the fatal mistake of using actual names instead of field names… If they were heard, that could have some devastating results.

"It's probably safest to assume that they are," Grayson suggests. "Either they have this room bugged or they have cameras hidden somewhere. Either way, they could tell when we all woke up. There's some sort of device in here."

Damian looks around, hoping that if there are cameras in here, they catch his glare. He wants them to know that he's pissed. He wants them to know he's not scared of them. He hopes they see the silent threat in his eyes. He will take them down. Whether that's tomorrow or in a week from now, they're going to wish they were never born. That he's sure of.

"How will we make any tactical plans knowing they're probably listening to every word we say?" Drake asks.

"Well, we can't," Grayson answers. "They've already taken too many precautions not to bug the room. There's a 90% chance that they're listening to everything we say. We can't formulate a plan out loud without them hearing us and finding out how we work, and at that point, they already have the advantage."

"So what you're saying is, we're basically screwed," Todd supplies for him. Damian glares at him. He's given up already? Pathetic. Damian refuses to give up until he's taking his last dying breath. And even then, he'll be fighting tooth and nail.

"Don't be so quick to give in, Hood," Damian snaps. "We will find a way out of this. Somehow. We have a week to put our heads together, and no matter how thick yours is, I'm sure we can squeeze some valid ideas out of it."

Todd glares back at him in return.

"Gee, thanks kid. I'm so flattered."

In his peripheral vision, Damian sees Drake rolling his eyes, a grin on his lips.

"I'm sure if they are listening to us, they're very entertained," he jokes half-heartedly. Grayson lets out a half-laugh of sorts that sounds like it could be a snort. Maybe it's the dehydration making him loopy, or maybe he's just slap-happy, but Damian finds himself grinning a tiny bit too.

"Yes, you are correct about that. You four are better than television."

The grin dies just as quickly as it was born.

"Bastards!" Damian barks.

"Tsk, tsk," the distorted voice teases, making Damian grit his teeth in anger. He hates nothing more than being scolded like a child. "Such harsh language for a child. Do we have to wash your mouth out with soap, Baby Bat?"

Damian can see Grayson clenching his jaw in anger as soon as 'Baby Bat' is projected over the intercom. It's not much of a surprise. In fact, Damian briefly questions if their captor said that just to get to Grayson. For some reason he's never been able to fathom, Grayson is heavily protective over him. From some of the things their captor has said already said, it's like he can already tell that.

"Go to hell," Damian snaps.

The voice only laughs coldly.

"Oh Baby Bat, you're one to talk with all those kills under your belt."

How did he…?

Damian's tries to wipe the look of shock off his face. His assassin background is not common knowledge to the public or any enemies to the Bat Family. No one should know. So for this man to know his past…

Could he possibly be tied to the League of Assassins?

No, that's impossible. This isn't their usual MO.

Todd seems to scoot closer to him, as if subconsciously protecting him against the man speaking to them. His expression is as dumbfounded as Damian's.

"You must not have done your homework," Todd speaks to the ceiling. "I'm the one who kills in this family. Bats would never let his Robin break the golden rule."

'Except he has,' Damian corrects mentally. He killed NoBody while he was Robin, which none of them have been informed about. Otherwise, he's been on the straight and narrow. But the man didn't say 'kill'. He said 'kills'. There's no doubt in his mind that this man knows his real identity.

And if he knows his, that must mean he knows everyone's.

Psychopaths have this annoying tendency to be overly intelligent.

"Playing innocent will do you no good, Red," the voice taunts. "I know the boy is a cold-blooded killing machine. I admire his work, really. He's a truly talented little boy. I would love to see him in action."

Something about his tone makes Damian shudder. He can't really explain it – the man just sounds way too excited. He can see that Grayson noticed it too. His jaw is set, his shoulders squared like he's prepared to lash out, and his eyes aflame. Hell, even Todd and Drake look unsettled by the way the man was talking about him. It's like they know something Damian doesn't…

What the hell did they notice that he didn't?

"You stay away from him," Grayson hisses, malice evident in his tone. Damian's taken aback. He's never heard Grayson talk that way, even to the criminals he fights.

Todd squirms around in his binds, glaring up at the ceiling like if he gazes long enough, it will burst into flames.

"When I get out of here, you're gonna see me in action," Todd promises. "Lay one hand on any of them and you're dead."

"Oh, so if I don't touch your brothers, you'll spare me?" the voice teases. "How merciful of you."

Todd clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. Damian swears he can see him shaking in anger.

"Let me rephrase that," he grounds out. "Touch any of them and I'll make your death nice and slow. I'll draw it out as long as possible until you beg for me to put a bullet in your brain."

'Not if I beat you to it,' Damian thinks.

"Keep dreaming, Hood," the man scoffs, sounding terribly unimpressed with Todd's threat. "You're not in the position to be threatening me. I can kill you with the snap of my fingers. All I have to do is tell one of my men to pull the trigger on that sniper I have pointed at your temple and BAM – your brains will add some much needed color to the drab walls."

It's like four sharp inhales of breath happen simultaneously.

Damian doesn't want to believe him. He sees no possible way a sniper could have Todd in his scope. There are no windows or doors in the room. The only thing there is a dumbwaiter. Albeit a very large dumbwaiter that could probably fit a grown man.

But it's hard not to believe him when he's repeatedly proved to be one step ahead of them.

"You're bluffing," Todd insists, his eyes darting around the room analytically.

The man chuckles softly, as if he's talking to a child. Damian scowls. He hates the condescending criminals most of all.

"Am I?" he asks jokingly. "Take a look around you. Do you see the holes in each wall?"

Each of them scans the room, eyes darting from wall to wall. Sure enough, there's a small, brush-handle sized hole poked in each piece of drywall. How he didn't notice this before, Damian isn't sure. He feels like smacking himself for not being as observant as he should have been. Drake, Todd, and even Grayson make stupid mistakes like that. He doesn't.

"Currently, I have three snipers pointed at the Hood, Little Bird, and the Golden Boy."

Damian narrows his eyes in suspicion. If he doesn't have a sniper waiting for him, there has to be a reason. The kidnapper hasn't played all his cards yet.

"Even if you move, the bullets are bound to ricochet off the tile floor and with a room that size, I wouldn't want to take my chances with where it was going to hit."

Grayson moves in front of Todd almost automatically, trying in vain to shield his brother from the oncoming attack. Damian resists the urge to snort.

Stupid family loyalty.

"What do you want?" Grayson growls.

"Simple," the man answers.

"I want the Baby Bat."

Damian's breath catches in his throat, his legs seizing up automatically.

It makes sense all of the sudden. Of course their kidnapper wouldn't kill the hostages they took the time and effort to catch and restrain. Grayson, Todd, and Drake aren't the targets here.

He is.

"Why?" Drake asks. Damian briefly wonders why Drake even cares. But logically, he knows.

Drake has always bought more into Grayson's 'we're all a family' spiel than Damian has.

"Because that's just the mood I'm in today," he replies snappily. "Make your choice, Baby Bat. Either crawl your way inside that dumbwaiter or your brothers will pay the price."

"Don't do it!" Grayson insists, trying to scoot his way over to Damian, intending to stop him. He's more willing to get a bullet in his brain than to let Damian be taken away from him.

For a brief second, Damian tried to imagine Grayson with a bullet hole through his head. He tries to imagine those bright blue eyes glazed over and unseeing, his body stiff and cold, a pool of blood forming around him.

The image makes him shudder.

Even when he replaces Grayson's image with that of Todd or Drake, the result is the same. The thought of them dead – because of him – shakes him to his core.

He's never considered them his brothers, except maybe Grayson. Maybe. Even then, he doesn't want them dead. Not even Drake. Well, not anymore. He's been working on that.

Every fiber of his being screams at him not to get in that dumbwaiter. It's suicide. Whatever they plan on doing to him, it won't be pleasant. That's a given. But at the same time, he wants to get in that dumbwaiter. He needs to. If it spares Grayson, Todd, and Drake a bullet to the head, then it's worth it.

It's what they would do for him.

With that thought spurring him on, Damian braces himself against the wall, standing up and full height and pushing himself backwards into the dumbwaiter.

Grayson tries to lunge for him, but he's not quick enough.

Damian is plunged into darkness as the dumbwaiter races upwards.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Please tell me what you think! :)