"What the hell just happened?"
The perpetrators frenzy at the loss of the lighting; thinking quickly, they all congregate near the bank's main vaults, formulating a plan of action.
"I repeat: what in the freaking hell just happened, man?!" demands one of the robbers.
"I dunno man," replies another, "but I know that it ain't good. At all. Frankie?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," answers the third, who happens to be the leader of the (former) sextet of armed robbers. He sinks to the ground—both legs collapsing under weight that seems all-to substantial at the moment—and removes his ski-mask amidst a river of budding droplets of liquid that engulf his forehead. Breathing deeply, he shifts to the other members of his band, and asks, "Any of you seen Sidney? Or Ralph?"
There is no response; only movement, as an objects suddenly racks the ground, sending the men into crippling fear. The pattering sound, "tick-tack-tick-tack-tick-tack!" reverberates through the atmosphere of the spacious building as the object draws closer and closer and closer. Finally, it comes to a stop, and silence once again fills the void of the abandoned building...
... until there is a bang.
POP! BANGBANGBANG! Bright, sparkling bursts of luminescence deluge the air as the flash bang detonates. Terrified, the robbers mindlessly fire their weapons, and round after round of ammunition floods the surrounding area in what seems to be an endless span of metallic destruction.
High above, within the rafters, in which the darkness of the surrounding area is at its pinnacle and utmost potency: the Batman observes. He then smirks—focusing on the two punks that of which he had incapacitated a few minutes earlier—and thinks, Two down. Four more to go.
—
The sound of howling, echoing laughter rouses me. Being dragged... try to make out your surrounding, try to... Oh, God. I can't... I can't see! Is there something over my face...? I can'tican'ti'cant...
No. Do not go into shock—not now, not yet. The Titans are counting on you! Stay calm, and remember your training; remember what Bruce has taught you (I can't remember his face... why can't I remember his face?...). Concentrate. There's a bag surrounding my face, and a gag over my mouth (not blind, not deaf... just disabled for the time being). Don't struggle: preserve all of the strength that you can muster for the time being (just go along with it, whatever this is).
...
This person (or people, quite possibly) has stopped dragging me. And, seeing as my gag was just removed, we must have arrived at my kidnapper's desired destination.
"Where am I?" I rasp, throat crackling due to hours (maybe even days) of inactivity.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, my dear boy," says a voice. I recognize it immediately: Joker. "Constant consumption of birdseed has been particularly damaging to your mental capacity, hasn't it? Of course, I'd gamble that continuous contact with twelve by seven inch crowbars would also be quite detrimental to a growing youth's health, but you seem to enjoy our little skirmishes, don't you?"
He's removing the covering that is surrounding my face. I can see... My God.
"Have any clue of where you are now? You're home, where else?! HAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHA!"