Coming into consciousness upside down is a bewildering sensation. Dick's heart hammering in his skull dragged him across the threshold into awareness and the searing burn in his arms and legs sharpened the edges of his surroundings. His arms were secured, his hands weighted below his head, adding more burden to the bounds around his ankles. This definitely was not his preferred position to be in.
The ashen texture of his surroundings made him feel like he was somewhere industrial, perhaps a warehouse, possibly those formerly used for manufacturing parts not far from the Riverstreet Pier. The room was poorly lit, a light shining directly on him and another lantern sitting beside a large man slouched in a folding chair. Dilapidated skeletons of timeworn machinery stood tall in the shadows of the vast room. An intriguing bright light shown through a door off to the right.
"Hey Bud," Dick locked onto the surly looking man before him. The man was rather ordinary looking besides a large ragged scar cutting across his right cheek.
"Shut it, Batshit."
"I really appreciate you all trying to get me those extra inches of height I've always wanted but I've got an itch on my …"
A built-in glove blade was Dick's hope of getting loose from his entanglement. That his wrists were bound and hands weighted separately made the maneuvering difficult. He figured he was hanging around waiting for some reason, something to happen or someone to show up.
"I said shut your pie hole," the man growled, the chair screeching back as he stood and grabbed the bat near his feet. "Or I'm going to do it for you."
The first blow hit Dick squarely in the chest. While his body amour spreading the impact out made the blow insignificant, the pull on his shoulders and knees as he swung was excruciating.
"You know, I know a pretty good cream for your fa…"
As a trio more of shocks hit him, he concentrated on steadying the blade in his fingertips enough to begin to slice through the ropes on his hands.
Dick coughed, the air taken slightly out of him by the last hit. "Your face could be as smooth a baby's bum in no time."
The scarred man's face grew even uglier in rage as he swung the bat back again.
"Enough, Monty," came a voice from behind Dick. A door slammed and Dick heard the shuffling of many feet. A skinny man with a green Mohawk came into view. "Boss is here, he wants the Bats alive," he sneered at Dick. "For now."
Dick felt the rope tying the weights to his hands give slightly. Only a few more minutes now…
"You seem different, Batman" came a different, higher pitched voice from behind Dick's back.
This voice registered as familiar somewhere in Dick's memory. It had been a long time since he'd heard it; perhaps he had been much younger at their last meeting.
"Thanks, I've been laying off the carbs, doing more water yoga Pilates. I think they're calling it Yo-lates now days"
The comm link in Dick's ear beeped quietly. "10-4, Batman, I've tracked you to the Bayside Industrial District, Building 320, Robin's on the way," came Bab's voice in Dick's ear. Followed by, "I can't believe you made the call word 'Yo-lates'."
Despite his precarious position, Dick couldn't help but smile slightly.
"That's not it, Batman," the man's voice from behind Dick continued. "We've known each other for many years. We have a HISTORY! And you, my dear Bats, seem different."
"Be careful, Batman," came Barbara's voice in Dick's ear once more, quieter than before. "We have plans on Saturday after all."
The man who came into Dick's view was short, portly even. He was older than when Dick had last seen him and leaned heavily on an umbrella he used as a cane. The hair showing out from under his top hat had heavily grayed.
Oswald Chesterfield Cottlepot, the Penguin.
"Penguin, long time no see." Dick needed to buy time. "Last time I saw you, GCPD was shutting down your club and hauling you off to Arkham. Did you miss me?"
Penguin slowly paced back and forth staring at the hanging Batman. Penguin stopped pacing and stared at Dick intently before nodding and shaking his finger. "That's what it is. You are smaller. You sound different. And you're a chatterbox." Penguin smiled and cocked his head to meet Dick's eyes. He had little doubt that Penguin had figured him out.
"You're murdering children, Penguin. It stops now." All Dick needed was a few more minutes. "What's your plan? Rebuild your club with funds from your organ harvesting and drug sales? That sounds low, even for you."
Penguin's head lowered and he resumed his pacing. "Birdbrain, I wish you had stayed out of this." Penguins labored movements were of a heavily burdened man. "I'm helping you out by ridding the streets of those homeless street urchins! They have no families or future, they're destined for crime. We're practically teammates."
Dick felt sick thinking of the dead children. "We're not on the same team, Penguin. You're sick." Dick made it through the last rope so that he was now holding the weights in his hand, ready to drop at the right moment.
"THEY'RE WORTHLESS!" Penguin screamed. Dick had hit a nerve and was intrigued. He sensed that there was a personal connection here. "Never mind, it doesn't matter who you are, I can't have you messing up my plan. Time is of the essence."
Dick dropped the weights he was holding and began to swing. "I'm going to stop you," Dick yelled to Penguin's turned back as he hurried away.
Penguin ran over to the man with the Mohawk and spoke quietly, "Make sure Maria is out clear." And then louder he yelled, "Kill the Bat!"
It was as though Dick was in the circus again, swinging back and forth in front of a crowd. The group of men in the room began to converge, weapons drawn. Penguin was making his way to the back of the room, Dick swung harder, he wanted him. Dick was so focused on not losing sight of Penguin he barely caught the two Bat-a-rangs that flew by his head. A smoke grenade clinked onto the concrete and Dick heard the whoosh of a cape. The cavalry had arrived…
