Just an FYI, This isn't a short arc. Those thinking there's gonna be a quick resolution, sorry. Far from. *evil laugh* now I must warn you, in the near future there will be a variety of torture coming along with quite a bit of training. I've had to cut most of it back in this version but this will get pretty intense. You get a taste in this chapter, but the next... you have been warned. All ye sadists, ENJOY!
Dick-16/17 Jason-13 Cass-11/12 Tim-9 Damian-3
Sacrifice
5 – The Day After
They changed cars twice. Once outside of Gotham and a second time after they left the neighboring state. Now he was in the back of a semi being forced into doing push-ups while the thing was still moving. Very, very difficult. Especially with Slade's commentary, orders, and his feet on his back.
"On your knuckles apprentice."
Dick gave him an exhausted and exasperated glare for a moment. He couldn't be serious?! He was barely keeping his balance in that thing! Perfectly formed push-ups with added weight was hard enough while in motion. But on his fists? Not even his PE teacher put him up to this! Sure Bruce told him how but… "Now apprentice."
The man waved the controller around. Gritting his teeth, the acrobat shifted his hands into fists best he could, wobbling as he continued. Slade told him to keep going until he said stop. That was over half an hour ago. How could he keep going? His muscles were on fire, sweat was pouring down his face, and he shook more and more with each squat. What number was he even up to?
"It's amazing you've made it this far on your own," the man started, watching him through his one eyed mask. Dick tried to ignore him as he talked, focusing on his task. His ears were starting to ring. "Most boys your age would have collapsed by now. Course, they don't have the sheer willpower you do. When a man's mind is made up, no force can stop him. Endure anything. With the right training, you alone could end a war."
'Wars are pointless,' the teen reminded himself, trying not to fall. 'They all end with peace talks. So just skip the killing and get straight to the talking.'
"I've had a hand in ending a few," he continued, "even before they've started. Taking out Kaznia's Admiral Chekov stopped a nuclear disaster. Maybe you'll be shooting down his successor in a few months."
"Ah!" Dick's concentration broke at those words, making him slip and fall flat on his chest, pinning his arm underneath him. He swore he cut his hand on something and bruised his sternum on impact, but that wasn't what really hurt him.
Shooting? Killing? That was breaking Bruce's second rule. Not to mention going everything he ever believed in since he was born. And Slade wanted him to do that in a few months? Horror filled him at the idea of what being his apprentice meant. He knew Deathstroke was the world's greatest tactician and one of the world's most dangerous men, but for a brief moment he forgot he was the leading assassin as well. His apprentice would one day take that role.
"Is something the matter apprentice?" He knew the man knew what was wrong. Dick could always tell when someone was amused just by their voice. Slade was baiting him into saying the wrong thing, he knew it. One slight wrong move and… "Don't tell me you're tired already."
Of course he was tired. The young man hadn't slept since his abduction, barely eaten anything. There was water nearby thankfully but he wasn't sure what the rules were yet. Maybe going for water without permission would be breaking them. Controlling his tongue and temper, the teen wormed his arm out from underneath him to try again. He tried not to think of the blood on his hands, both real and what would likely become real, as he tried to perform another set of push-ups. He collapsed again, this time from exhaustion. Stopping then trying to start something difficult again always proved harder. A third time he tried to get up, only for Slade's boots to grind into his back.
"That's enough. You've proven your dedication. Now," the man swished his feet away from him, walking around the collapsed boy on the metal floor, "drink up, take care of that hand, and be ready for your next evaluation."
"E… Eval… uation?" The acrobat panted laying on the floor, eyes bleary as the vibrations and hums of the vehicle carrying them went through his body. It was hard to think right then. 'Breathe, what's this guy planning? Breathe, ow that hurts. Breathe.'
"I know you're talented," Slade explained coyly. "But not yet polished. To be perfected, I need to know your flaws. To rid you of them."
'Then get yourself a robot,' Dick mentally ordered. No one was perfect. Not even Superman. He couldn't count how many times he and his family had one upped the man of steel.
"Now, that hand. And hydrate yourself. Can't have you collapsing in the middle of a fight now can we?" The man walked a ways off from him, giving the boy enough space to move around freely, if he were able.
The young man looked at his hand after a minute of resting and didn't like seeing it. He wasn't bleeding much and the wound wasn't big, it just hurt a lot and came from one of the creases in his hand. Plus his knuckles were scratched up from the earlier exercise. It was the palms, not knuckles, of his hands that bore calluses. It'd be some time before his body could adapt to the training.
Another minute or so passed before Dick rolled to a position he could push himself up from. Water, medical. They were right next to each other. Had to get there, had to survive. Somehow, he had to beat this, beat Slade. And that meant doing what he man said. For now.
"Mr. Wayne!" "Mr. Wayne!"
"Mr. Wayne, what do you have to say about claims of your son running away?"
"Mr. Wayne! Any opinion of why your son's belongings were found next to the body of Shereen Macamyre?"
"Mr. Wayne! How will your son's disappearance affect Wayne Enterprises?"
"Any idea who could have assisted your son's disappearance?"
"What are your holiday plans now that your son is gone?"
"How are your other children handling the disappearance of Richard Grayson?"
"Any leads on who could have taken him?"
"Mr. Wayne!" "Mr. Wayne!"
The crowd of reporters was always annoying the past, but now it was unbearable. Everyone was trying to get a statement, from The Inquisitor to The Gotham Gazette to The Daily Planet. Dick wasn't gone for more than twenty-four hours and everyone was hounding him for details. He hardly had any, him or the police.
Bruce narrowly avoided being mobbed by reporters, saying 'no comment' or nothing at all as he left police headquarters. The FBI was staking out his house at the moment in case a ransom demand was made. But with only the body and Dick's belongings in a well-crafted warehouse labyrinth as a lead, they hardly had anything. All he knew now was the same as what he learned when he first made it to the crime scene.
Now he was home, with the press outside his gates and federal agents and police going in and about his house. The kids gathered in the study shortly after Alfred took them home, waiting for their dad to find time to sneak into the cave. Their home felt invaded and empty at the same time; and the truth was only one person was missing.
It was nearly night time again before Bruce could make it into the study where they were waiting. He dragged his feet, slowing down with all the overwhelming feelings surging through him, as he came inside, firmly shutting the door behind him. He locked eyes with them, seeing their fear and desperation for answers, only for him to close his eyes and shake his head in grief. "I'm sorry. We—"
He couldn't get the words out. How could he explain…
But he didn't need to. Seeing his state, all four of his children ran to him. The man fell to his knees and gathered up as many of them in his arms as he could, desperate to keep them there where it was safe. He wanted them safe. Happy, warm, and whole. And yet without Dick, all of that was gone. A gaping hole appeared in their lives, one he couldn't fill himself. All he could give them was what he had right then and there, strong arms to hold them, and a cave to hide away from the rest of the world in.
Bruce had his head in his hands, leaning heavily against the computer console in the cave, taking in every emotion he tried to suppress throughout the past thirty hours. Every piece of anxiety flowed through him, trying to form tears but constantly being burned away by rage. Dick was missing, and he had no means to find him. Every person he knew was against him or the League, and knew the connection between them, was accounted for or had a signature he would have recognized. This was someone entirely new.
"Why didn't you call me first?!"
He gave a sardonic smirk at the voice. "I wondered when you'd show up." The tired and worn man looked towards the red and blue Boy Scout floating next to him, just as enraged and worried as he was deep inside.
"I was at the police station," Superman insisted, glaring daggers, "and at the front gate. Why didn't you call?"
"Because at first I didn't know he was kidnapped." Bruce looked beyond him to the medical beds on the far side of the cave. None of the kids felt safe in their beds with all the FBI and police people in the manor and the reporters outside. Word had spread quickly and now the whole family was under attack in smaller ways. Under most circumstances, when any of them felt scared, he'd just have a crowded bed. Not this time. "Then I couldn't find an opportunity. Too many people."
"Of course he was kidnapped!" The kryptonian barked. "What other option could there be?" He received a long look from the mortal and blinked. He never saw the man so worn. Tired yes, but not like this. "He wouldn't just run away… right?"
The man shook his head, not knowing. "Dick and I… we've been fighting. On Halloween I… well, suffice to say, we haven't been on the best of terms the past couple months. I… might have given him reason to want to leave—"
"But he wouldn't," his friend insisted, believing in the lad.
"No, he wouldn't." Bruce looked away mournfully, seeing his children again. "If it were just the two of us, I have no doubt he would have left to cool his head. But he doesn't abandon his siblings. He loves then too much—"
"He loves you too—" Superman cut in.
But he ignored him. "And they need him. Dick wouldn't run away from them. And certainly not like this.
"I've been giving him space," he continued, "trying to figure out what I should do to… Help him? Raise a teenager? Let him go? Still don't know what I'm doing. I pretend I do but…" Bruce shook his head tiredly. "Before he left yesterday, he made promises. We were going to talk, hopefully figure this out. He's stayed out late and all night before so I thought…"
"You thought he might have stayed over at someone else's place?" It was beginning to make sense now.
"For a little bit," he admitted. "Bad traffic, lost track of time, normal things. Then his signal made no sense. No alarms, no sirens, I couldn't be sure what had happened. I didn't want to call you in until I was certain something was wrong. You or anyone else. Searched all night. It was Jason and Tim who found a lead, and that's only given more questions."
"So you didn't call me in," Superman interpreted, setting his feet on the ground at last, "because you didn't know for certain if he was taken or being a rebellious teen still mad at you."
"In a way." He actually didn't call him in because this was something of a personal matter and he was thinking as a frantic worried father instead of as Batman at that time. The former vigilante should have called his friend for help first. Maybe they would have found that warehouse sooner and the car that took him. "By the time I thought of you or the League, the police and FBI were involved."
"Who came up with the runaway theory?" That was what struck the man of steel. Who would think Dick would just leave like this?
"Some federal agent not interested in finding anyone." Bruce brought up the records of an Agent Farrel, glaring at him. The man didn't look too bad really, but he wasn't on record for solving many cases. Writing people off as runaways seemed to be his MO. "He thinks Dick left on his own accord because there was no struggle and he left everything he was wearing behind. Thinks he's been planning this for months."
"Everything?" He looked at the man oddly. "But he only has one term of school left right? And it's nearly Christmas. This really doesn't make any sense."
"He left his parents' wedding rings behind." The haunted, serious gaze in the CEO's eyes struck his friend. It was what sealed the deal for him. "Dick never takes those off. I couldn't trace those even if I tried and he knows it. If he really ran away, he'd take clothes, cash, and every piece his family owned he could carry, then run to Haly's Circus. But they're in Europe right now and everything is where he usually puts them. He wouldn't ruin other people's holidays like this and he definitely wouldn't have left before graduation."
"So he was taken."
"Manipulated." Bruce's computer program finally finished running, exposing the data it'd been running for the past half hour. Quickly he opened it to see the results. "His clothes were folded properly, no signs of a fight at all. It's likely he was lured out there, then used Shereen Macamyre to coerce him somehow."
"Shereen Macamyre?" The reporter hadn't heard that name before.
"The dead woman they found in that place. Probably killed to keep her quiet. A perfect murder."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because no one can do an autopsy on her without violating their doctor oaths or being under threat of lawsuits." His eyes narrowed on the information before him. "Her family's faith requires the body to be whole for burial. Coroners can't even determine cause of death beyond looking over her body and taking blood samples. She'll be cremated in two days."
"Giving me two days to do X-rays and gathering samples without anyone being the wiser," the other man murmured slowly. That could satisfy a few Leaguers and one worried bat. Superman saw the frustration growing on his friend's face then looked at the screens. "What is it?"
"Dick was getting a series of texts from different burn phones," Bruce growled, slumping back into his chair. He was hoping to get more information from his son's phone, but someone had sent out a magnetic wave before leaving that building. Recreating the device's memory was nigh impossible. "One of those had to be luring him out and all I've got is a garbled message!"
The alien looked over the message the program managed to piece together and frowned.
-mily's secr – und-wor – truth - S14D3 – alo - 4p - eat Expect- mi-
"Looks like someone knew something about you guys." His eyes widened, jerking over to Bruce's face as he pieced it together. "You think someone figured out you were Batman and that you're supporting the League?"
"That or who Damian or Cassandra's other parentages' are. Either way," the man wasn't happy as he reached the obvious conclusion, "Dick must have been convinced someone knew the truth about something and was going to expose us to our enemies. A meet was set and Dick went."
"This could break down Ferrel's runaway theory."
"Or reinforce it." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "If we can figure out who this person is, or what they knew, we might have a solid lead."
"Can't trace where the other person bought their phone?" Bruce just gave him an annoyed glare. "Working on it?"
"Tracing phones, even burn ones, takes time. There are millions of numbers issued out there and a computer, even this one," he motioned to the giant contraption before them, "needs time to go through them. I'm running all the leads I can under the circumstances."
"Ah." Superman looked over the pieced together text for a moment and frowned. "I'll go take care of Shereen Macamyre then do a few sweeps through the city. With any luck, you'll get a call from the kidnapper before I return."
The man just nodded, still staring at the screen as the kryptonian left the cave. He barely heard him murmur, "I have a feeling this isn't going to be that simple Kent. Not this time."
A/N: See how thorough Slade's been? He's made it so no one can find out about the probes effects or of their existence for a while, scrambled Dick's cell (did quite a bit more trickery with the texts too), even changed vehicles to unnoticeable ones. Commercial trucks don't get stopped that much in the northeast for human trafficking, right? I think they do near the Mexican border but that's about all. Anywho, here Slade has a lot of resources and is using them to keep Dick hidden. And training started immediately. Knowing how hard it is to keep your balance in the back of a pickup, I'd think Dick having trouble with this and anything else Slade has him doing in those things. Wintergreen for the most part is doing to be their driver.
As for secrets/scandals, Bruce has a lot. Let's count them! Supporting the League, Retired as Batman, Cass' parents are both world class assassins, Damian's out of wedlock and his mother is the heiress of the League of Assassins/Shadows, Knowingly dating Catworman, Nearly killing Joker for what he did to Jason, Dick's involvement in Zucco's capture/death... I'm certain there are others too, but those are the major ones. And don't stocks go down if the company's owner has some personal crisis going on? Dick getting taken like this spells a lot of trouble on so many levels.
In other news, this marks a full year of being on . Special thanks to all my readers this past year. Hope I can keep at it for another one. I think I'll make some lemon bars later to celebrate. TTFN! ^^V
