A/N: Thanks for the compliment mystery guest! :)

Chapter 8:

The drug still needed heat so False Face placed Dick on the floor in a corner of the shack. He built a fire in his circle of rocks, warmed up the pot and began to work. Twenty minutes later he put out the fire and let everything cool down. Seven minutes after that he had the rocks off the table, the pot on the floor and the boy tied tightly on top of the table. He removed a small, glass vial out of his pocket and filled it almost to the top with his dark liquid. Then he waited, pacing around the table, watching the formula as he swirled it around and glancing impatiently at the boy every few minutes.


Twelve minutes later:

It was still dark when Dick woke up with a headache, one that felt like a baseball was being repeatedly tossed against his brain. He was lying on his back, staring up at a small, crumbling ceiling and hearing the quiet lapping of calm water against solid land. Carefully turning his head over his left shoulder, he recognized the half-broken window of the tiny shack. The crescent moon was reflecting off the shiny surface of the lake and he could see several tiny dots of firefly lights dancing around the water. There was cold metal underneath his body and he realized that he was restrained tightly on top of the only sturdy thing in the rickety old building – the table that False Face had been using as a countertop when he was working on his formula. A soft mumble came from his right and he turned his head to find the source of the sound. False Face, his John mask removed, was facing Dick with his head down. A small ray of moonlight lit up his dark hair but his face was swathed in shadows. He was swirling a black liquid around in a glass vial and muttering something about an antidote.

False Face heard a quiet noise and lifted his head. Dick Grayson was finally awake, staring at him and doing his best to look angry – which is difficult when one is immobile and at the mercy of a villain. The boy looked more nervous than anything but False Face was impressed with his ability to remain semi-calm. The villain flipped up the switch on the lantern, the sudden change in light causing the kid to squeeze his eyes shut. False Face gave Dick some time to adjust; he wanted the boy to be able to see everything that was happening.

"I've been working on this while you have been resting," False Face held up the glass container, "and I don't know if it's perfect yet. So, I need a test subject and, since you're already here, it might as well be you." The villain grinned when Dick's eyes widened slightly. The boy obviously remembered the consequences of the last two times the drug had been tested. "This will give me the ability to control your mind," False Face continued. "I haven't even begun to try to figure out an antidote yet so, unfortunately for you, there is none."

Dick frowned and narrowed his eyes. "I'm not afraid of you or that liquid because Batman will be here soon and he will find you," he declared then quickly amended the sentence, "he will find us." He tried to sound brave but knowing that he wouldn't be receiving an antidote was un-nerving.

False Face grinned through his usual mask, "You don't sound very certain, Grayson."

Dick almost growled but remembered that he wasn't Robin and the ward of Bruce Wayne probably wouldn't be growling at a villain. So he growled in his head instead, wishing Bruce had allowed him to bring his extra Robin-suit. The Boy Wonder wouldn't be in this predicament because he would have been able to fight his way out of Mike's office. Dick, however, was not allowed to fight well enough to escape the situation so now here he was, tied to a table and about to be drugged.

False Face stepped forward and loomed over Dick's small body, the dark vial already slightly tipped over the boy's mouth. "Open wide, kid, so that I don't have to hurt you to get this down your throat," he stated calmly. He didn't like physical violence but he had to test the drug. The formula would go into the young teen's mouth by whatever means necessary. If he had to use force, so be it.

Firmly pressing his lips together and clenching his jaw, Dick shook his throbbing head. There was no way he was going to willingly let an unknown substance enter his body.

The villain sighed in disappointment and used his left thumb and forefinger to pinch Dick's nose. Dick couldn't breathe but still refused to open his mouth. He started to struggle after a few seconds, turning his head from side to side, but False Face held on tightly and Dick was forced to open his mouth to bring oxygen into his body. His gulp of air was quick, though, and he did it when his head was turned away from the villain's right hand, causing False Face to miss the opportunity to pour the liquid into the boy's mouth.

"That was a good idea, Grayson, but I have other ways to get this into your body," False Face sneered as he released the boy's nose and grabbed his chin. Dick immediately inhaled oxygen through his nose and was surprised when it wasn't cut off again. A touch of fear snaked around the edges of his eyes when False Face began to tightly squeeze his jaw. Dick squirmed in pain but now his head was immobile and the villain was slowly able to pull his lower jaw away from his upper one.

Dick started to choke on the dark, bubbly fluid that slid quickly down his throat as False Face shoved his mouth closed and removed his hand. The liquid burned on the way down and, ten seconds later, what felt like sharp little needles were pricking all the nerves in his body. The pain slowly increased until it felt like the needles were slicing through his skin. He was shaking and sweating and trying to hold back a cry of agony when the feeling suddenly stopped. Gradually the trembling decreased and Dick realized that he didn't feel any differences between now and the time before he had been drugged, other than the lingering stings of the imaginary needles. He grinned – the villain's formula hadn't worked.

"Tell me that you hate Bruce Wayne," False Face demanded, carefully scrutinizing every detail on the boy's face.

Dick's grin became wider and he opened his mouth to give the villain a sarcastic reply. The words in his mind were different from the words that came out of his mouth, however. His eyes widened in shock when he heard himself say, "I hate Bruce Wayne."

The eyes of False Face widened, also, but his expression was one of glee. "I did it!" he yelled. "I finally got it right!" He ran around the table and out the door, performing a bizarre-looking dance of triumph before re-entering the shack. Staring smugly at the boy who had been troubling him, False Face stated, "You are going to call Bruce Wayne and tell him that Batman is no longer needed up here. Do you understand?" he demanded.

"Batman doesn't need to come up here; everything is fine," Dick's voice sounded somewhat robotic and False Face frowned. The phone call wouldn't be believable if the kid didn't sound like himself.

Stop, what are you doing?! Dick yelled at himself in his head as he cleared his throat and repeated the sentence.

False Face grinned again. Now the boy sounded normal and that would encourage Bruce Wayne to call off Batman. Quickly bending down, he picked up a portable phone that was leaning against a leg of the table, pleased that he had remembered to grab it from Mike's office after knocking the kid out.

"You are going to speak to Bruce Wayne and tell him that Batman is no longer needed here, that everything is fine. Do you understand?" At Dick's compliant nod, False Face held up the phone. "Tell me the number," the villain commanded and Dick obeyed. After punching in the numbers, False Face held the phone at the boy's right ear and waited impatiently for someone to answer.

"Wayne Manor," Alfred answered, surprised that someone would be calling Bruce at almost two o'clock in the morning.

"Bruce Wayne, please," Dick said and False Face was a little annoyed. The ward of Bruce Wayne wouldn't ask to speak to his guardian like that.

"Master Dick?" Alfred asked. "You don't sound like yourself, are you okay?"

"Yes, Alfred, I'm fine. May I please speak to Bruce?"

"Of course, young sir, I'll only be a moment." Alfred, who had returned to the Manor to retrieve some information for Batman, hurried to the service elevator and descended to the Batcave.

The boy was beginning to sound robotic again and False Face was suddenly worried. If Wayne suspected something was wrong then he wouldn't tell Batman to forget about going up to the camp.

"Clear your throat," he whispered frantically, remembering what Dick had done before. The teenager just stared at him, though, so the villain moved the phone away and squeezed the boy's throat once. Dick coughed then wheezed slightly and False Face returned the phone to the teenager's ear, hoping the action had worked.

"Master Ba…Bruce, it's Master Dick and he sounds...I don't really know how to describe it, sir," Alfred's eyes were concerned as he rounded the corner of the tunnel leading from the elevator to the Batcave. Batman had just finished skimming the contents on the dossier of False Face in the Well Known Criminals files and was preparing to leave – he just needed the information that Alfred had gone to obtain. The butler's words, however, stopped Batman in his tracks and he grabbed the extension to the Manor.

"Dick?" he said. There was no answer and Batman wondered if this was another threat from False Face. He tipped the phone down so it was away from his mouth and quietly asked Alfred if he was sure it was his ward. At his butler's confirming nod, Batman brought the phone back up, "Dick, are you there?"

Don't say it, don't say it, stop forming those words! Dick was continuing to yell at himself in his head even as he heard the sentence come out of his mouth.

"Hi, Bruce. Everything is fine now and we don't need…um…we don't need Batman anymore," Dick struggled to change the words but was losing the fight against the drug.

Batman narrowed his eyes, detecting a tiny sliver of distress in his ward's otherwise normal voice. "Dick, what do you mean? Earlier you said…"

"I know what I said earlier," Dick interrupted harshly, "but I was wrong. Please don't…" there was a long pause and Batman's eyes widened at the rude tone. The young teen had never sounded like this before; neither Bruce nor Batman had ever heard the boy so abrasive.

"Please don't what, Dick?" Batman demanded an answer.

"Don't…uh," Dick gasped as he continued to resist the drug that was now slowly decreasing its influence on his brain, "don't need Bat, um, Batman. Everything is fine he…he," Dick's mouth was working to form the word "here" but his brain was yelling "help".

"Dick, what's going on?" Batman was really alarmed now. His ward sounded like he was gasping for air and his voice was trembling noticeably.

The fight was taking a lot out of him and Dick was straining to stay awake. "At camp," he gasped again. "We don't need help," he struggled to emphasize the last word then closed his eyes and slipped into darkness.

Batman heard the 'click' of a phone being turned off. "Something's really wrong with him, Alfred. He would never interrupt me like that..." he trailed off as Alfred nodded his head.

"I'm afraid you are right, sir. There was a strange tone to his voice…" it was Alfred's turn to trail off as Batman sprinted to the Batmobile and uncharacteristically jumped over the driver's side door.

Batman was furious with himself as the engine roared to life and he left the Batcave. Dick was in danger and Bruce Wayne was the one that had put his ward in this situation.

False Face pulled the phone away and turned it off. The conversation hadn't gone how he had envisioned it and he was sure that Bruce Wayne would tell Batman that something was really wrong. There had been too many pauses, too much gasping and the ward of Bruce Wayne probably wouldn't interrupt his guardian as harshly as Dick had done. False Face frowned, opened the door and threw the phone as far as he could into the lake before turning back to glare at the now-unconscious boy.


Several hours later:

Bronte was worried as he raced toward the office of the camp director with Dick's note crumpled in his hand. A "late-night run" meant that his friend would be back before morning, not that his bed wouldn't be slept in and he would be missing.

"Mike!" Bronte yelled as he burst into the main building. He slammed to a stop before he could crash into the director, who was about to walk out the front door.

"Whoa, Bronte, calm down, what's going on?" Mike asked gently, instinctively bringing his hands up to prevent the collision. Bronte was having a hard time coping with Walter's death and the director was surprised that Dick Grayson wasn't with him.

Bronte was trying to catch his breath after sprinting from his cabin to the main building so he just handed the note to Mike, who read it and became concerned.

"Bronte, where is Dick?"

"He never…he never came back!" Bronte shouted, fear for his friend plainly evident on his face. "I haven't seen him since he left the campfire last night and I found that," he pointed to the note in Mike's hand, "on my pillow before I went to bed!"

"Go to breakfast, Bronte, I'll take care of this. We'll find him, there's nothing to worry about. The forest can be like a maze at night and I'm sure he'll be back soon." Mike was trying a little too hard to reassure the boy and could tell from Bronte's dubious expression that he wasn't buying it.

"I want to help look," Bronte declared. "We can all help. Walter just died two days ago, Randy is really sick and now Dick is missing. Please let us help! You can put us in groups with adults in each group. Please, Mike," Bronte was practically begging the man.

Mike looked at the grief gliding through the eyes of the fourteen-year-old and made a decision, another one he would later regret.

"Okay, but breakfast first. If you're going to hike through the forest, you're going to need fuel. Tell all the kids to be in the cafeteria in half an hour."

Bronte nodded and ran out the door. Mike thought for a moment and then called Donovan, who was by the fireplace watching the exchange, over to him.

That man is always in the right place at the right time. The thought flashed through Mike's mind and was dismissed as quickly as it had appeared.

"I need you to find all the adults, immediately. We have a serious situation and I need everyone's help."

"A serious situation?" Donovan sounded concerned but there was an undetected hint of nervousness. "What's going on?"

"Can you just follow my instructions and get everybody here? We don't have time to discuss this one by one!" the clearly stressed director yelled at the man. Donovan quickly left the building as Mike strode into his office and around his desk, plopping onto his chair upon arrival. This situation felt all too familiar – sitting in his old chair and rubbing his head, which was aching as bad as it had been on the day Walter had died. He rolled his neck, attempting to release some of the tension, and noticed a dark splotch on the floor. Pushing his chair back and crouching down, he touched the abnormal spot then lifted his finger to his nose and took a sniff. Mike had been a police officer and camp director long enough to recognize this particular smell, even though it was completely dry: blood. His eyes widened and he quickly stood up, turning in a slow circle in order to carefully peruse his surroundings. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary until he noticed a patch of dust-free floor. That's where his bat had been. His eyes landed on the shelf directly above the circular shape. The portable phone was no longer there. He ran both hands through his white hair – Dick Grayson was not just missing, he had been kidnapped and it had happened in Mike's own office.

Ten minutes later the counselors were standing in the main building, listening as the camp director explained the unfortunate circumstances. Mike left out the kidnapping part, since it was mostly a theory, but expressed the seriousness of the situation. Everyone started talking and asking questions all at once.

Mike held up both hands, indicating for silence. "We're going to put the kids in groups with at least two adults in each group." He pulled out a map of the campsite and the surrounding forest, placing it on the tall table near his office door. "I'm separating the forest into quadrants and we'll also have a group searching the camp itself," he said and began drawing on the map.

Nobody noticed that there were only eight attentive adults. The eyes of the ninth were darting nervously around the room, searching for the tenth, who was nowhere to be seen.


The next time Dick woke up, the sun was high in the eastern sky and the little needles were pricking his nerves again. The pain was minor, however, so he didn't dwell on it. The only thing he remembered was telling Bruce that Batman wasn't needed anymore. He began searching his brain, looking for any clues as to why he would say that, especially since there was a picture of False Face floating behind his eyes. Memories suddenly rushed back and he started squirming around, attempting to free himself from the rope that was tightly wrapped several times around his small body.

Dick frowned as he remembered the battle in his head that had eventually led him to darkness. False Face had been able to control Dick's mind for a short amount of time but maybe Bruce hadn't believed him. Maybe Batman had heard the strain in his ward's voice and was still coming for them. The drug seemed to have worn off and, looking around as best he could, the teen didn't see the villain anywhere. He began to rock his body from side to side and hoped that somehow he could gather enough momentum to release himself from his bonds. How rocking the table would help him escape he had no idea but it was better to try than just lay there and wait for False Face to come back and finish him off.


Twenty minutes after Mike had talked to the counselors, the kids and adults were in the cafeteria being placed in groups and given assignments. False Face, wearing his John mask again, had unobtrusively returned from the shack by the lake and was in a group with Bronte, Serina and Donovan. They had been given the northern portion of the camp boundary and False Face was nervous; the lake marked the border. He made a decision, slipped quietly into the kitchen and snatched a knife off a counter. The groups were ready to leave when False Face grabbed Serina, whirled her around into a choke hold and pointed the knife at her neck.

"Everybody stop!" he yelled and everyone froze. Shock and fear were written all over their faces and Serina was crying.

"John!" Mike exclaimed. "What are you doing?! Let her go!"

John snarled at Mike and, to the director's astonishment, Donovan stepped up next to the head chef in silent support of his actions. John whispered something to the man, who immediately left the cafeteria while the villain commanded everyone to clump into a group. While the others began obeying the instructions, Bronte began inching toward the front door. John noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Bronte," he warned loudly, "back here now or she dies!" He pushed the knife against the girl's neck, causing a small drop of red to appear.

Serina gasped in fear and Bronte raced to the cluster of people. By the time he got there, Donovan had come back carrying a two liter bottle filled with a gas-like substance. John nodded at the other man, who then walked over to the group.

"Donovan!" Mike shouted. "What are you…why? You've been here six years!"

Donovan looked remorseful as he stated, "I'm sorry, Mike, but what I get paid here doesn't help my family right now. This man," he flicked his head back at John, "is going to give me a lump sum of money that will get my kids and I out of a tough situation."

False Face had come up behind Donovan and shoved Serina at Mike, who grabbed her tightly. Snatching the bottle from the other counselor, the villain shoved him into the group, also, and stabbed the side of the container. Gas began to glide out of the slit and False Face tossed the bottle into the group. He grinned as seventeen kids began falling to the ground, victims of another of Scarecrow's toxins, this one a fast-acting sleeping drug. The adults were lasting longer so False Face left them with a parting comment.

"If anyone comes after me, little Dick Grayson will meet an untimely death and it will be your fault. I suggest you make a good choice," the villain sneered but many of them had already succumbed before he finished the sentence. He laughed delightedly and turned to leave, performing his signature heel click in the air right before walking out the door.


Somehow Dick had wiggled and squirmed enough to tip the table onto its side and was now lying on the floor, still tied to the table and attempting to breathe through the pain of landing solely on his left side. He was pretty sure that his left shoulder was dislocated again and trying to think about anything except the pulsing ache was proving to be extremely difficult. The room was going in and out of focus and rainbows were dancing around in front of him. The door to the shack was flung open but Dick didn't even hear the loud noise. He was struggling to concentrate on finding a way to escape and his brain couldn't register anything else at the moment.

False Face strode angrily into the shack and laughed when he saw Dick's situation. "Isn't that the same shoulder you hurt before?" he asked, crouching in front of the boy as he began to peel away the face of John. "I bet it really hurts now. Did you actually think you could get away?" That question was accompanied by a swift kick to Dick's left arm as False Face stood back up.

Flinching at the spike of severe discomfort, Dick grunted, "Well, I wasn't going to just lay here and let you get away with this." He suddenly remembered that he wasn't Robin and shut his mouth. The additional pain from the kick had subsided slightly and Dick tried to focus on the voice of the villain.

"It looks to me like you don't really have a choice," False Face sneered as he finished removing his disguise. They both heard a loud noise coming from the direction of the camp and the villain turned around, slowly opening the door. Dick attempted to grin; he recognized the sound of the Batmobile. False Face, however, frowned – he had heard that engine too many times in his criminal career.

"Now that Batman is here," the villain sneered, "he'll be coming after me. Like I said before, he doesn't care about saving a bunch of bratty rich kids. Even if he does look for you," False Face declared, "he won't be able to find you. By the time he discovers this place, you will be in a watery grave."

Dick tried to glare at the villain, a touch of fear outlining the edges of his agony-laced eyes. Batman was smart – he would find Dick and everything would be fine. Unexpectedly, the pain in his throbbing joint flared up again, causing him to gasp as the rainbows turned into holes of darkness. False Face disappeared from Dick's line of vision and the teen couldn't push back the darkness anymore. The villain had the bat in his hand again but realized he didn't have to use it when the small body of the boy stopped moving. He did it anyway, slapping the bat on the back of Dick's head and re-opening the wound the kid had received in Mike's office.


Fifteen minutes later:

Dick was cold and his shivering woke him up. False Face was right in front of him, although for some reason the man was upside down, and staring at him with a slight smile. The teen's legs, all the way up to his waist, were resting in the nearly freezing water of the mountain lake. His wrists were tied to something above him, his straight arms the only things supporting his weight. There was some kind of dirty rag in his mouth and wrapped tightly around his aching head. That pain didn't even compare to the one in his extended shoulders: the joints were bobbing in time to the tiny waves and every movement was like a hammer pounding against his bones. The left one felt like it was about to fall off his body and Dick briefly speculated that he would be grateful if it did.

"Let me explain your situation to you," False Face began speaking and Dick stared blankly at him, attempting to make sense of the man's words. "First, you are under the dock on the lake, tied to the pole that is closest to land, making it the darkest one out of all of them. Don't worry, the bottom of the lake is about ten feet down so you still have plenty of space to drown. Second, your legs – which I'm sure you can tell are wrapped around the pole – are tied together and a large rock is chained around your left ankle. Third, as you obviously know, you are gagged and cannot call for help. Finally," and False Face took out a knife, "I'm about to free your hands from the plank to which they are secured. When that happens, you can either fall to your death or try to wrap your arms around the pole. If you do the latter, the only thing keeping you from slipping under the water will be the strength of your small arms. I don't think you'll last long with that dislocated shoulder, though. You can remove the gag if you want but you probably won't be able to hold yourself, and the rock, up with one arm while you do that."

Dick understood enough of the speech to know what was about to happen and he shook his head rapidly, alarm in his eyes.

"Okay, because I'm nice I'll put you all the way at the top," False Face said as he grinned and wrapped his hands around Dick's arms. He pulled the teen's small body up until his elbows were bent and his head hit the dock.

The water was only at the boy's knees now but the villain had intentionally pulled the left arm more forcefully than the right. Stars burst behind Dick's eyes and he wanted to allow the darkness that was prowling around the edges of his mind to swallow him whole. False Face suddenly grabbed the short piece of rope that was holding the young teenager's wrists together and sliced it apart. Dick immediately slipped down but managed to wrap his arms firmly around the pole after going only a few inches – the water was at his thighs. He wouldn't be able to hang on long, he realized, because his entire left arm was now on fire and his body was trembling from the pain, the fear and the icy water. He felt himself beginning to panic and squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Batman sprinting toward the lake. The image allowed him to push the feeling away, albeit slightly.

"You should have kept your mouth shut," False Face sneered. "Goodbye, Dick Grayson," and then he was gone.