Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited! It means a lot. Also, allow me to clear some things up: This takes place when Robin is 15, putting Roy at about 20. Everyone else's ages correspond accordingly. Julie Madison is Bruce's fiancée; I took her from the comics.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.
Anyways, here's chapter two! And Merry Christmas Eve.
The situation was almost laughable.
On the floor of the rent-a-truck sat six hostages, all bound in various ways and surrounded by armed masks. All six were related to four of the rich and most influential business people on the East Coast, including Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen- also known as Batman and Green Arrow. Not to mention the fact that they now had a pair of unpredictable heroes in their own right sitting in that truck. The retribution they were asking for would be brutal, and even for a crime organization employing Gotham's greatest villains, Dick thought they were in over their heads.
"Oh, you're really asking for it," commented Dick, earning himself a half-hearted kick to the side from the nearest goon.
"Why are you here?" hissed Roy, edging closer to the other boy.
"I came for a visit," retorted Dick in a low voice, rolling his eyes as he awkwardly pushed himself back into a sitting position. "Same as you, numbskull- clubbed over the head, thrown into the back of a van, brought to Chez Creepy to get publicly beaten up in a ransom video."
Roy looked at him, puzzled. "That's not what happened to me."
"Oi, shut up," snapped one of the criminals, prodding Roy in the shoulder with his gun. "You'll be doing no plotting under my watch."
"No plotting at all," agreed Dick innocently. This time, it was Roy who kicked him- or tried to, rather, a large amount of electrical tape restricting his movement.
As soon as the man had turned away, Dick murmured, "What happened to you, then?"
"Oh, you know, just your average five o'clock drinks with the coworkers when Bulls-Eye steps into the bar," Roy answered furiously, having trouble keeping his voice down. "Anyway, he's not subtle about it. He says that if anyone moves, they're dead, and he tells me that if I don't come with him, bodies will start dropping. So I come with him, intending to fight as soon as we get outside and there are less... civilian liabilities lying around." It was clear by this point that Roy was unable to whisper, and Dick was glad that their captors were occupied by two of the other prisoners, a pair of snuffling and whining twins.
"But they surrounded me, beat me, bound and gagged me, threw a sack over my head and tossed me into the trunk of a car. Not a pleasant experience. I almost suffocated." He frowned at the memory. "As soon as they opened the trunk, they whipped the bag off my head, snapped a picture and cut off some of my hair. I guess that's what they sent with the ransom note... I was transferred to this truck along with those two brats, and later we picked up grandma." He jerked his head towards an old lady sitting morosely in a corner.
Dick shook his head. "Sounds like you had an all right time of it, then."
The older boy snorted. "I can't believe they just strolled into a respectable establishment in a respectable part of a respectable city, which I make sure is respectable, and just..." He trailed off helplessly. "This sucks."
"Wiser words were never spoken."
A wail echoed around the metal interior of the truck, drawing all eyes. Where physical harm had served to subdue the elder prisoners, it had only incited the twins to cause a scene. They were by far the youngest captives- at least five years younger than Dick himself, putting them at about nine or ten. Both the boy and the girl were blonde, with large, brown doe eyes and pouting lips devoted to the sole purpose of complaining.
"I want to go home," sobbed the boy, clinging onto his sister's waist. "I want my daddy! Take me ho-o-ome..." Beside him, the girl buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking.
"Aw, c'mon, don't cry," cajoled one of the masks. "Look, your daddy is going to give us one billion dollars, and soon the whole Sanford family will be together again- minus a billion dollars, of course- just in time to watch the Injustice League take over the world."
At that, Dick's head snapped up. The Injustice League. Of course. Once again, Lex Luthor was making a bid for world domination, and this time the price was four billion dollars. A billion from Bruce Wayne, on the heads of his betrothed, Julie Madison and his son, Dick Grayson; a billion from Oliver Queen, in exchange for his ward, Roy Harper; a billion from Regulus Sanford of the Boston , for his pride and his joy; and if Dick guessed correctly, the fourth ransom note would be sent to Ezekiel Jacobsen, head of JackalCorp, on threat of his mother's life.
It was a bigger production than he had previously thought, and if this weren't nipped in the bud before the money was delivered, the Justice League and Robin's own team were going to have a very large problem on their hands.
When the truck slid to a stop, canvas sacks were pulled out and promptly slid over the heads of all the captives. Light and shadow could just barely be distinguished through the crudely woven threads of the sacks, and it was one of these indistinct shadows that caught him as he stumbled into the light of some large room.
"Bring them this way," ordered an oily voice.
"That's not a part of the plan," argued the rough tone of Bulls-Eye. "We're supposed to keep them downstairs until the ransom is delivered."
"There's no sense in just leaving them down there," replied the first speaker irately. "I may never get such a chance again. They may as well serve a second purpose during their brief infringement on our premises."
"Lex doesn't want them to see the rest of the compound," growled the second. "You want Ollie Queen's personal army storming in here because of some tipoff the boy gave 'em?"
"This is not up for debate, unless you wish to tangle with Luthor himself," snapped the other. "They are going to be our test subjects."
"I have a lot of trouble believing he would have told me one thing and you another. If one of these hostages die before they're paid for, we're short one billion dollars! Can you afford to throw away a billion bucks?"
"Bulls-Eye," said the first softly, and with his voice came the sound of a gun being cocked. "I have a bulls-eye right between your eyes right now. Can you afford to throw away your life? Walk away."
Star City's favorite villain retreated, muttering darkly under his breath.
The trip to their destination- wherever that might be- seemed to drag on forever. From the way their footsteps echoed, Dick assumed they were navigating their way through a warren of tiled hallways, not unlike that of an office building or hospital. From behind him came the occasional grunt or sniffle, as the other captives struggled blindly to keep their footing.
At last, they came to a stop, pulling the bags off. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate a square room, covered in the kind of ceramic tiles one might find in a pool or bathroom. Showerheads lined two of the walls, four to a side, and the floor slanted inwards slightly, towards a drain set in the center of the room.
"This can't be good," remarked Dick. Much as he would like to believe that the villains were just giving them a chance to wash the blood and dirt from their faces, he sincerely doubted it.
The doubt increased when he turned and found himself faced with the sloppily stitched grin of the Scarecrow himself, master of fear.
"Nice to see you all." He twiddled two fingers in a half-hearted wave. "Now we're going to leave you six alone, and mind you behave yourself." He beckoned Two-Face and the masks out, closing the door behind him with the ominous click of a locking mechanism being engaged.
Immediately, the Sanford twins raced to the portal, twisting and tugging at the handle to no avail. "Let us out!" screamed the boy, smacking his fists against the unforgiving metal.
"Here, let me try. Do you have a hairpin?" Dick asked the girl, shouldering his way between them. She nodded tremulously, removing a pink barrette from her wispy hair.
"Thanks." He twisted the bit of wire into a crooked line, knowing that it wouldn't be that easy, knowing that they had to be watching somehow, and knowing that he still had to try.
As soon as he inserted the metal into the key slot, an electric current jumped from the hairpin to the fingers in his good hand, sending a pulse up his arm and locking his muscles. His vision went white, and convulsions racked his frozen body for several seconds. Just when he thought his veins might burst, it ended.
"Dick!" Roy caught him as he fell, vision swimming. "Are you okay? Can you hear me? That was dumb as hell!"
Working his tongue with difficulty, he licked his lips. "I know," he replied. "But whatever... whatever comes next will be worse. So it was worth a try. Now let me go." Roy released him, and he sagged back against the wall. His pulse throbbed in his ears, quick and erratic. Julie hovered beside him, reaching towards him in a comforting gesture, then pulling her hands back to bite her nails.
Mrs. Jacobsen, the sixth member of their unfortunate group, hurried over. "Sit down," she urged, putting a hand on his shoulder. Too tired to resist, he slid down the wall onto his butt, and she sat down beside him with a creak of her knees. "I used to be a nurse," she explained as she eased his sneakers off, followed by his socks. "Just as I thought. If only we had ice..."
He could already feel the burns on the bottom of his foot where the current had exited, but that didn't stop him from looking out of morbid curiosity. The sole of his left foot was marred by angry red marks that were rapidly cooling into white blisters.
"It'll be fine," he said, stretching his legs out with a sigh. "Just give me a minute, and-"
With a hiss, all eight showerheads turned on at once. But instead of water, out came a haze of sickly yellowish gas, slowly spreading through the air in nebulous clouds. "Cover your face!" Dick snapped, pulling his shirt collar up to cover his nose and mouth. He silently cursed the fact that he had been taken while wearing the expensive finery befitting the son of a billionaire playboy, and was now left with only a thin, ripped silk shirt to protect himself with.
"What's happening?" demanded the Sanford girl, her frightened voice muffled by the sleeve she kept pressed to her mouth. "What are they doing? What is it?"
This latest development explained the part of Scarecrow. "Whatever you do," Dick told them, "don't believe anything you see. Nothing is real. Don't move, don't touch anyone, don't do anything. Actually, just close your eyes."
"But what is it?" Julie asked, unsuccessfully attempting to bury herself in the low-cut neckline of her dress. "What are they doing?"
"I don't have time to explain. Just do it." They all stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Now!" he shouted impatiently. "All eyes, shut. And remember: Nothing is real."
Despite the cloth covering his face, Dick could already feel the paranoia begin to set in. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe shallowly, but he was only delaying the inevitable.
His skin began to crawl, and he twitched, trying to dislodge the feeling of spiders crawling up his arms. When the sensation reached his face, he dropped his shirt and began to swat frantically at the imaginary bugs, forcing himself to keep his eyes shut.
From somewhere to his right, a half-strangled scream sounded, and his eyes shot open. Through the noxious cloud that now filled the room, he could just make out a couple of large, indistinct figures, sitting still. But where-
Abruptly, the two children tumbled out of the mist and crashed into Dick. The boy screamed in terror as his sister raked her pink, manicured nails across his face. "Leave me alone!" she shrieked, wrapping her hands around his throat. "Leave me alone!"
That was when Dick's mind began to play tricks on him- or had it been playing tricks on him before? Was the Sanford girl transforming into a shrunken, slavering Joker-child, or vice versa?
He didn't care.
Jumping to his feet, Dick leapt at it, shoving it off its victim. A sharp pain shot up his injured arm, but adrenaline overrode it. On the floor, the creature began to writhe, letting loose unearthly cries of anger and aguish. "Leave me alone!" It wailed again, clawing at his arms. The whole time, the warped red smile stayed fixed in place.
"No!" Dick whipped around just as a pair of pale hands descended on him, pulling him off of the Joker-child. He found himself shoved against a wall, those awful, blood red nails curled around his shoulders. Without thinking, he pulled his fist back and slammed it hard into her face, slackening her grip and sending her reeling.
She fell to the floor, and as Dick stared down at her, he realized that he was looking at the face of Mary Grayson.
Backing up in horror, he gagged clapped a hand over his mouth. She looked exactly as she had the night she died- body lying twisted and broken, limbs bent into unnatural positions, and just beneath her still-bright blue eyes was the bruise he had put there. He hadn't saved her. He had as good as killed her. He had killed her.
"Please, no..." he turned away as the bile rose in his throat, suffocating him. He closed his eyes and threw up, the remains of his last meal jerking themselves up from his stomach for a violent exit.
This wasn't happening. It wasn't real. None of it was real. He was Robin, and he knew how to master his fear. He brought his breath under control and tried to swallow the terror threatening to choke him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy Harper lumbering out of the haze, red hair wild and matted with an even redder liquid that hadn't been there before. Upon catching sight of Dick, hunched over and leaning against the wall for support, he stopped, muscles going rigid.
There was no cry of fear, no explanation or warning. In less than a second, Roy was on him, tackling the smaller boy to the floor. He went down hard, cracking the back of his skull on the ceramic. Above him, Roy's wide eyes seemed to shift in and out of focus, pupils dilated with blind fear. His weight crushed Dick's ribs, making it impossible to breathe, and before the other boy had time to strike him, he was unconscious.
Leather straps bit into his skin, restraining him.
He awoke claustrophobic and immediately began to struggle, pulling futilely at the tight bonds. An attempt to yell left him coughing and gasping for air, and he subsided, pushing the strangling fear to the back of his mind. For now, he seemed safe enough. He was alone in some kind of small, white cubicle, shirtless and shoeless. All the blood and dirt had been scrubbed from his skin, and gauze was wound around his broken wrist, bruised ribs and burnt foot. When he tried to lift his head, he felt stitches tug at the back of his skull, and he winced at the memory.
With the sharp scrape of metal on metal, the curtain slid open, and in stepped none other than Maria Lucette.
"Awake, I see," she commented. She had shed the sapphire robe of last night for a skintight black-and-green suit, and in her hand was a glass of water.
"Traitor," he accused, looking at her darkly. Her eyes glittered back at him, cold and hard, and he knew he had been right about her.
"I never betrayed anyone," she replied, unbuckling the straps around his arms and chest. "No one ever said I was on your side in the first place. A lot can change in fifteen years." Sliding cool hands under his back, she lifted him into a sitting position and put the glass to his lips.
When it was finished, she set it down on the floor and began to undo the leather binding his legs. "Good news," she murmured, producing a pair of handcuffs that she locked around his wrists. "The ransom is ready. As long as Bruce doesn't try any funny business, you'll be going home in one piece."
He didn't believe her for one second.