Damian felt the familiar drowsiness of sedatives, as he climbed back to consciousness. The slight pain from his cheeks and palms didn't even allow him a moment of believing they might have been administrated for benign reasons. If Alfred had been responsible, he would have given him pain killers that would numb such small pains. Keeping his eyes closed and his face slack, he tried to determine his current location and position through sound and feel.
Without moving, he could tell that his arms had been bound behind him. He'd have to shift to make certain, but the pressure felt too flat to be rope, possibly duct tape. He was grateful for his sleeves if it was. Duct tape and skin, over extended periods of time, was unpleasant. His legs felt unsecured, and he was laying on his side on something both cold and slightly rough, most likely concrete.
Somewhere close by, he could hear the sound of a fan. It was large, low to the ground, and not rotating, probably a box fan. There was also the slick sound of cards, but no accompanying laughter or grumbling. He couldn't hear anything as faint as breaths with the fan going, but if he had to guess there was only one man in the room and he was most likely playing solitaire to pass the time. It was a good idea. T.V's were loud and demanded attention. He'd snuck past countless numbers of goons distracted by the things.
He couldn't hear anything else of note. No echo, no dripping, no traffic, nor waves, nothing obvious that would tell him his location.
Carefully, he opened his eyes a slit. Just trying to peer a bit into the room to gather more information without giving himself away. The complete and utter darkness startled him into opening them fully. Nothing, he could see nothing at all. That made no sense. He quickly rubbed the side of his head to the ground, checking for some cloth that he hadn't felt before. No, he wasn't blindfolded, and he didn't have a sack over his head. The room was just completely dark, despite the fact, he could clearly hear the man moving cards around not six feet away. Had he been taken by a metahuman or was it simply a gang themed around night vision? He'd seen sillier motifs in his time as Robin.
"Ah, you're awake, good!" A voice cheered. Damian couldn't help the slight jerk he produced at the sudden sound. The voice was the same as the man from last night, the one who had tackled him. He tried to think back if there had been anything strange about the man's eyes or if he'd seen any specialty equipment. Nothing came to mind. The thud of footsteps heralded the man's approach. Damian felt his arm grabbed, and he was pulled into a sitting position.
The man patted his head. If he hadn't known better he might have thought the man was trying to beat him. He was apparently the type not to know the difference between light pat and full force swat. Not know or not care that is. "Now boy, you're going to help us make a video for your papa," His kidnapper said, "Then we send it to him, he does what we ask, and you can go home." He sounded almost cheerful. Damian couldn't tell if the man was the sort of delusional that would turn violent if things didn't go exactly as planned, or if he merely had been doing this so long that this was just a day job. They were two very different types of dangerous. "Don't be afraid. If you behave and your father does what he's told nothing bad is going to happen. Do you understand?" The kidnapper said. He apparently mistaken Damian's lack of response for fear. Now was the time to test what kind of person he was, before he found out that Father wasn't going to pay and the Batman was going to break all of his bones. Better to find out now, if he needed to rescue himself, than when the man decided he was going to try and send him home in pieces. Emphasis on try.
"How can you make a video if it's so dark?" Damian asked. It wasn't an insubordinate answer, but it wasn't what the man had asked for. It could also give him vital information on what kind of threat he was facing. The man's response to it would determine the sort of danger Damian was in.
Laughter wasn't really what he had expected. "It's not dark boy, you just can't see," the man said, he must have pulled a face because the man continued still amused, "Don't worry, don't worry, it's not permanent." The amusement suddenly dropped, and this time when he spoke he was nothing but serious, "Unless your papa doesn't want to cooperate, then we make it permanent. You don't want that. We don't want that, so be a good boy and everything will be good. You understand?"
"Yes," Damian replied. He knew who had him now. A group had been kidnapping those of means. Holding them for ransom. Using an experimental drug to deprive their victims of their sight, both to protect the kidnappers identifies and to control those kidnapped. The drug was indeed not permanent. From the case file he'd reviewed, all victims but one had fully recovered after being returned. The one that had not, had a family that had been caught trying to work with the police. They'd received one of their daughter's eyes in a box. It was a relief in a way, these were professionals. He'd be rescued long before they felt the need to harm the hostage.
"Good, good, now repeat after me."
End Notes:
Originally I was going to stop here. Everyone kind of knows Damian's going to get rescued considering the first chapter, so what's the point. Then I realized that the fact he's blind hasn't really hit Dami this chapter. He's still in how to survive mode, so you get another chapter. Maybe tomorrow, probably the next day. Don't have a lot of time to write today.
