Author's Note:
We have yet another cliff hanger... I promise they won't all be like this. (And it ends as happy as it possibly can).
But we're almost at the final confrontation!
WARNINGS: Dubious consent to drug use mentioned here; it's off camera, but it happens. And Dick's in a terrible head space that spirals around self blame for events well beyond his /
Chapter Twenty: Rule #20 – Know When to Ask for Help
Dick knows when he's in hot water.
Knows when it's boiling around him.
Knows that he'd rather be poached like an egg under Bruce's disappointment than face the consequences of keep any potentially harmful secrets from him for even half a second longer than he already has – knows he'd rather let Batman ream him out like he deserves for his reckless and idiotic choices to endanger an underage civilian than to let Tim get hurt.
Dick doesn't know exactly what Babs told Bruce, but Dick intends to give his mentor no answers but the truest ones if he gets asked any kind of questions about what's going on.
He's got Spoiler on his bike behind him as he streaks into the alley way where Batman's going over schematics – her anxious grip so tight on his hips that he knows her fingertips will be leaving bruises. She seems to realize it as he pries her off to dismount the bike, but doesn't verbalize anything as she nervously follows suit – eyes scanning the blank back wall of the building where the bad guys are presumably holding Timmy Drake.
Spoiler hangs back as Dick strides over to join Bruce in going over the Obscura schematics. Alfred pops up in his ear to say, "Miss Batgirl is now less than two miutes out."
Nightwing can't resist the nod as he accepts the information, even though he knows Alfred can't see it, and he settles in to wait for her and to study what he can before Batgirl arrives. He knows that Batman will only be coerced to give the briefing once – that he'll wait until everyone relevant is present – and that no other concerns or conversation will be raised before the mission has successfully concluded.
Though, honestly, with how quickly the landscape keeps changing, Nightwing isn't even sure there will be a briefing. Robin might just call an audible and force them to adapt without any kind of overview or legitimate plan to guide them.
It would not be Jason's first time doing that.
Honestly, it wouldn't even be his most reckless move of the evening.
While he waits, Nightwing syncs his com to the frequency that Batman is on with Robin – keeping his end muted while he listens to Jason talk.
Connects the dots to conclude that he's talking to Tim directly – to conclude that since Jason's babbling soothing Robin nonsense, all while somehow managing to avoid saying that he is Robin outright. And since he's got that edge in his voice that says determined rather than inscensed, Tim's alright – which eases some of the ache in Dick's gut.
Jason has gotten Tim to participate in his own rescue, it seems.
Though Dick can't hear Tim's side of the conversation, he can hear Jason confirm the facts regarding Tim's placement in a loft on the south side, two open stories up from the main dance floor, and his acknowledgement of Tavian Ross being present along with two unknown associates in addition to multiple goons.
There's a brief pause, and Dick can't actually hear Jason's air catch in his throat over the boom of Obscura's music when he gets a visual on Tim, but he can feel it through the underwritten layer of relief that backfills Jason's tone with confidence and grit.
"Whatever he's expecting, I'll put money down on betting that he's not expecting us."
Dick agrees vehemently.
Nobody messes with his Family.
Jason is straightforward and brutal by the sounds of a few scuffles he gets into while bypassing the club's basic security in order to get upstairs to where Tim is being held. Nightwing can almost track his progress by sound as his gaze skims across the blueprints laid across the Batmobile's hood.
When Jason makes it to the loft, there's some snappy banter between him and Tavian Ross. Jason stays focused on Tim. Ross allows himself to be lead through the conversation.
The government black ops goon / gang lord has no intention of giving Tim up, and no real worries that Jason can take him without Ross's approval. Until Ross comments that Tim's up on offer if Jason were to have something worthwhile to trade – and Jason snaps back that he does have something worthwhile.
Ross's tone goes cool over his unconcered response, but what sends a shard of ice down Dick's spine is the voice the chimes in just seconds later. He'd recognize it anywhere.
It's Rwen Tolovi's voice.
Even as it's being picked up over the coms, there's no question it's him.
Somehow, he recognizes Jason as Robin.
And asserts that Robin is there with Rwen to trade for Tim.
It shocks the snark right out of Jason in a way that makes Dick's gut swirl.
Because Dick can't see Rwen Tolovi's face, but Jason can, and he clearly does not like what he sees. And Dick remembers all the scary statistics they've dug up on the middle Tolovi.
The next turn in the conversation sets Dick's pulse throbbing through his ears… he can't understand how the words are still making it into his ears and up to his brain when his heart beat is so loud. It should drown everything out, but Dick still manages to hear that Rwen Tolovi is offering up Jason to Tavian Ross as some sort of living test subject for some sort of experiment – presumably an experiment that involves the vile drug the Bats have been tracking.
They want to pump Jason, his Little Wing, full of drugs…
It makes Dick see red.
Not just for the horror of having his little brother subject to something so vile and deadly, but for the additional torment of knowing that Jason watched him mom die via something far too similar to make this ordeal anything but straight forward torture.
Jason had never explained as much openly to Dick, but Dick had been raised by Batman and he had done his own investigating. It had been mean-spirited research, begun when he'd first found out he'd been replaced as Gotham's Robin, but he'd had enough shame even then to know better than to use anything he'd found about Catherine Todd as ammo in their spat.
He'd buried the information, tucked away the knowledge in the part of his mind where he stashed the horrible things he knew better than to let himself think about.
Never let it show that he knew anything he shouldn't – that Jason wouldn't want him to.
But the idea of this nearly shatters everything that keeps him solid.
Beside him, Bruce has stilled as Dick had.
Bruce, not Batman, and Dick can feel the difference in the reaction radiating though him even from beneath the Cowl.
It only lasts a second, but it makes Dick feel better about his own almost break down.
Batman refocuses as Batgirl's bike roars onto the scene.
Nightwing refocuses while Batgirl gets her com synced and gets herself sorted.
There's been a pause in the conversation inside Obscura. Posturing.
A lot happening that needs to be seen to be understood – or narrated.
Slotting in his Nightwing voice to drown out the frantic worry inside Dick, he unmutes his com and says coolly, "Talk to us, Little Wing. We don't have any eyes but yours in there, so we need you to tell us what's happening."
It works enough to get Jason to recount the scene.
Prompts him to press again for Tim's release.
A bit of back and forth politicking happens between Rwen and Ross that Nightwing should probably care about, but he can't bring himself to examine it in face of Jason's successful gambit to get them to let Tim walk out the club's front door.
Nightwing volunteers to snag him, and rushes off without official confirmation from Batman – Spoiler hot on his heels, having missed just about everything going on, because she doesn't have a Bat com in her ear, until 'Wing mentioned Tim's imminent exit.
The tiny figure is unmistakable and Nightwing barrels into him with such force he's worried about causing harm. He can't stop himself however, and only manages to loosen up his hold in order to pet over every inch of Tim's form to check him for injuries.
He's wheezing and wearing a pained, distressed expression, but Nightwing thinks that has more to do with the fact that Nightwing has tackled him than any aches or injuries from prior to that instant.
It also probably has something to do with the fact that Jason is still inside – still in grave danger with no real escape plan.
Jason… who has got to be panicking about whether or not the Bats actually picked Tim up instead of allowing him to get snatched back by more bad guy goons.
Hurriedly unmuting his com, Nightwing promises, "We got him, Little Wing. Baby bird is safe and sound. We're sending him back to the nest, and Agent A is gonna take good care of him. You did good, Little Wing, and now we're gonna get you out."
While Nightwing's attention is split between Tim and Jason, Spoiler fingles her way into the hug to tackle Tim herself. "Kiddo!"
"Oxygen," Tim wheezes after a long moment, the sound clearly an effort to make audible.
Nightwing and Spoiler both give one last squeeze and then more or less release him – though both keep at least one hand on him as they essentially drag him around back to where Batman and Batgirl are waiting.
"Jeez, let the boy breathe," Batgirl says, a slight smile creeping across her face.
The situation is too serious to really joke, but it's always been a high priority for the Batkids to laugh in the face of imminent doom. It's part of their stichke, part of their characters.
Nightwing grins back at her.
Doesn't let go of Timmy.
Then Batman is looming over them. "Spoiler, you are to escort civilian Timothy Drake to his home and ensure that he stays there," Batman declared. "Then you are to head home yourself. And retire, as we discussed the last time you came out to patrol."
Spoiler glared to kill an army, but it turned sullen quickly against the indomitable blankness of Batman and she looked silently at her shoes instead of voicing any protest.
She and Tim are quickly shuffled into the Batmobile, obviously well before Tim's head has stopped spinning because he looks surprised and moderately betrayed when the vehicle promptly locks them both safely inside with no possibility for them to wriggle their way out.
The Batmobile begins to silently roll out of the alley – quickly disappearing into the dark shadows of a Gotham midnight.
"I hope you're sending them to the Cave to be checked out by Agent A before they head home," Nightwing says, conscious of keeping his com muted so Jason doesn't hear about the potential wrench being thrown into Nightwing's promise regarding Tim's care.
Batman nods – just once, but irrefutably.
The gestures allows some of the tension in Nightwing's chest to unknot.
"So, now the question is how do we get Jaybird out of there?"
Batgirl jumps in to say, "Well, Obscura looks pretty damn inpenetrable without a ton of collateral damage and civilian casualties, so I don't think we're gonna be able to get him out – at least not before closing time. My guess is that they're going to be taking our boy, and the crate of drugs they nabbed from Robbinsville, out of here themselves – probably heading over to the Raven, if our data's giving us an accurate picture of their routine."
"We'll take them in transit, then, when they're most vulnerable and our manueverablility can effectively counteract the advantage they have in numbers," Nightwing concludes.
He looks to Batman with a curl of the familiar desperation he developed as Robin to be right, to be acknowledged and praised – to do good enough at being the hero to make his mentor proud. He'd left most of that unhealthy edge of anxious desperation behind when he'd finally come to terms with no longer being suited for the pixie boots, but apparently, he hasn't outgrown all of it.
Probably never will.
Definitely never will, if the excited flutter of joyous butterflies erupting in his stomach at Batman's nod of approval is anything to go by… but he can reflect on his own childish mental shortcomings later.
Right now he has a little brother to save – an incredibly bullheaded and brave and kind and stubborn but frightingly, stupidly, brilliantly reckless little brother.
"Will they be coming out of this garage?" Nightwing asks, refocused and nodding at the corrugated face of the sheet metal scroll keeping Obscura's delivery bay closed off.
"It's doubtful," Batman explains. "This garage only has the capacity to hold three large SUVs and the manner of backing them out onto the street would leave them obviously vulnerable. The sub-basement has a secured tunnel beneath it that could serve as a temporary staging ground for a convoy."
"The only catch is that the two outlets of the tunnel are over eight blocks apart, and neither of them point conveniently towards the Raven," Batgirl elaborates.
"Then which one do we stake out to get Jay back?"
The grim line of Batman's mouth tells Nightwing that he's landed right on the million dollar question. Which is unfortunate, because if Batman doesn't know, then all they can do is divide and conquer – stake out both places and hope the others can get to whichever one proves accurate with enough time to spare to effectively launch an interception.
The two outlets are only eight blocks away, but the Raven is only twenty blocks from Obscura. No matter what happens, it's going to make for a very tight timeline.
In a resigned sigh, Nightwing volunteers, "I take east, BG takes west, Batman hovers here to make it quicker to get over to whichever one turns out to be right?"
Batman gives another nod and BG flashes him a grim smile, holding out a fist.
Nightwing bumps both sides of BG's fist and then moves to straddle his bike. He and BG peal out of the alley seconds later, heading directly away from each other.
It doesn't take long for him to reach the area where his end of the tunnel lets out, but it's definitely long enough to make a difference in their rescue attempt – which is a thought that does nothing to soothe his nerves as he scales a building to get a clear look at the exit.
Once fully settled in his perch, Nightwing radios the update, "In position, clean visual on exit, no activity."
Just over a minute later, Batgirl relays the same information.
The next five minutes of radio silence is excruitating.
Made even more unbearable by the fact that Jason hasn't said anything on his frequency in twice that time. Dick is both desperate to know why he's gone quiet, and achingly anxious for the reason to be something innocuous – like there's nothing happening to report on…
This has gotten way out of control and Dick knows that he can't handle it.
He probably can't even handle it with Batman and Batgirl taking up the lead.
This has spiraled into something way bigger than anything the Bats can control – their whole ability to successfully enact and manipulate other situations is entirely dependent on their control over all the information in a given scenario.
They don't have that advantage right now.
They don't even know half the information right now… and even what they do know keeps being rendered ineffective as unknown breeds of metas are consciously and actively altering the informational landscape.
This is the kind of situation in which they need to meet raw power with raw power.
Dick's already in hot water with Bruce as it is, so he doesn't think much of disobeying one more order as he flips his right forearm to expose the microcomputer built into the underside of his gauntlet.
He drops a quick line in an encrypted email to the Titans and hits send with a feeling of resigned hopefulness. Turns back to his vigil with determined focus rather than high strung anxiety. Settles in to wait it out – shifting in slow circuits of a gentle routine composed of moves from tai chi, gymnastics, pilates, and yoga to keep his muscles warm.
He listens carefully to the frequency Jason's com is open on.
Latches on to the fact that the pulsing riot of music is beginning to fade – like they're moving Jason away from the club floor.
It's still eerily quiet, with none of the goons or gangsters saying anything at all – without even Jason's usually constant mouthing off. Whatever posturing is happening is entirely body language, and it's all forceful and tense enough to keep a lid on the verbal back and forth.
Dick does not like it.
Wishes for some sort of super special kind of x-ray vision.
The stark white lenses on his domino have multiple filters – including infrared – but none of it helped at Obscura when the main floor was packed with people and the mass of bodies was blocking off any hope Dick had of seeing through to the level he actually wanted to see. And it certainly doesn't help now that what he's looking at is a blank door over an empty tunnel.
Which just adds to the already compounding frustration in Dick's gut.
It eases slightly into anticipation as he picks up the sound of car doors opening and closing through the com. The convoy is getting ready to roll out.
They'll be getting Jason back in the next twenty minutes.
The thought gets his blood pumping hard through his ears.
So hard that he almost misses the sound of doors closing and then that of a drink being poured and then Jason's snort of blatent derision before he comments, "Lemonade? I didn't think drinks were gonna be served on this trainwreck of a drug deal you and Ross got goin'."
"It's not just lemonade," Rwen Tolovi drawls, making Dick's stomach drop with dread of aching certainty, "And it's not exactly a drug deal. It's a little more illegal than that."
Dick can hear Jason's raised eyebrow in the silence that follows.
"The drug starting to appear on the streets of almost every major American city is being leaked from the meltdown of an experimental government program – the current… restructuring is creating a lot of disgruntled former employees with high level access," Rwen casually intones. Like he's discussing the recent rash of rain storms.
He sounds almost bored, but there's an energy behind the words that make Dick think he's watching very carefully for Jason's reactions, "Those people are all rather enterprising individuals who are distinctly not pleased to be missing out on a fat retirement fund and are currently compensating."
Rwen pauses a beat, possibly as Jason nods – or rather, knowing Jason, as the teenager shoots snark filled look that questions where the story is going and why he should care.
"My brothers and I have been… correcting their rash, selfish decisions and erasing their supply lines. However, I was part of that project and my formula has recently begun appearing among the leaked samples. I'm blackmailing Tavian to return the bulk of my research to me."
This time, when Rwen pauses, Jason huffs a laugh.
"So straight up treason instead of just the string of felonies found in the counts of murder and drug possession," Jason synthesizes. "You assholes don't fuck around."
Dick wishes again that he could see Jason's face. His tone is lose and joking, impressed almost, in a way that Dick doesn't understand – can't tell if it's bravado or genuine ease.
"No, we don't," Rwen replies – voice soft and light and even more unreadable than Jason's is when coming over the com. "Invulnerability will do that to you."
Without a pause betraying any hint of anxiety, Jason snorts, "So you really think you you asshats are totally invulnerable?"
There's a long moment of silence over the coms and then Rwen sighs.
"You need to drink that if you want to survive the night," the drug lord says – voice empty of anything Dick could hope to identify. It's emotionless and steady, broadly clinical as he goes on, "You might be genetically compatible with my serum, but if your system isn't prepped before a real dose, even something small will send you into shock. That will help."
"Sure, it will," Jason returns with an aggressive skepticism.
"If I was going to kill you I would have done it already," Rwen sighs, bored but also… indulgent. "That is a lower dose of what else you'll be receiving tonight, along with some special fillers of my own design. It will help ease the transition. I told Tavian that you were an informed volunteer, but we both know that's not true, so you're just going to have to trust me."
"Why did you tell him that?"
"I enjoy seeing him panic, for one thing," Rwen responds right off. "And the unauthorized administration of a new Serum formula to an unknowing human subject is one of the things I'm blackmailing him with."
There is the sound of ice shifting in a glass, like someone shrugged.
Or, Dick realizes with an ache in his gut, like someone drank something. The sound was quiet, so Dick hopes that if it were the later, it was Rwen drinking and not Jason.
Just a few more minutes and they'll be able to get Jason back, Dick tells himself again – hopefully they'll be able to do it before Jason is coerced into ingesting any of the drug himself.
Dick has to check his mic is muted when it seems like Jason responds to his whispered plea that he hold off on drinking that horrible drug for just a little longer, saying slowly in a clear play for time, "You say this stuff will help me survive the night, but why would you bother? Like, I get that you could've killed me a hundred times over, but why help me not get myself killed?"
Rwen sighs again, his patience clearly beginning to wear through the indulgent understanding that had coaxed him to answer Jason's previous questions.
"The data, mostly. Tavian wants to see how my formula affects an unaltered system, and I won't turn down a chance to gather more evidence of the fact that my hypothesis is correct. All data is helpful data in science, to a point, at least," Rwen tells him. "Besides, contrary to popular belief, I am not a completely psychotic monster. I don't enjoy death or killing. I enjoy the fight, certainly, and I can be ruthless and unyieldingly brutal at times – but mostly for the sake of protecting my Family."
Jason huffs at that, and Dick understands why.
It's hard to deny the appeal of being absolutely vicious to keep his Family safe – and Dick knows the intoxicating appeal has to be twice as tempting for Jason, who was forced early on into a world view that desensitized him to violence as he did what it took to survive Crime Alley.
"So, I drink this shit and what happens?" Jason asks, running out of options.
"It hurts," Rwen replies without any gentling. "And then everything starts to itch, and tingle. Once the buzz settles, it'll feel like you're up on nothing more sinister than an unhealthy amount of caffeine. Exactly six and a half minutes after that, you'll be able to take twice the dosage with the same severity of mild side effects. If you can finish that one with at least four minutes to spare before Tavian wants you in the ring, you might survive the dose Xansa will put you on for the fight."
"Fight? Who will I be fighting?"
"My little brother, probably. And possibly Alistair Blake, as well," Rwen returns, adding with a clipped edge hurrying his tone. "And you'll need every advantage you can get to have any hope of surviving a bout with either of them, so drink."
Dick holds his breath – right up to and beyond the last second.
The sound of Jason making a disgusted noise makes Dick's stomach pinch and he nearly bites right through his lip – tastes the bitter tang of blood as his teeth push through the skin.
"God damn that's rank," Jason splutters and coughs, his voice rather hoarse. "Got any vodka to wash it down with?"
Rwen almost chuckles. "You think vodka would resolve the flavor issue?"
This time, Jason laughs.
It's a sharp, bitter bark of a laugh, but a laugh none the less.
"Vodka resolves a lot of issues," Jason supplies, "And since it feels like I just chewed up a whole damn pack of frickin' expired cigarettes, yeah, I think some vodka would fucking help."
"Noted," Rwen replies, still far too amused with it all for Dick's taste.
Dick is prevented from letting his thoughts start to spiral off into picturing exactly what he'd like to do to that Tolovi bastard by the sound of gears shifting at the tunnel outlet across the street from him.
He's about to radio it in when Batgirl beats him to it, saying, "I've got movement."
With grim foreboding, Nightwing unmutes his com and comments, "Me too."
"There's two convoys," Batman supposes, pained with resignation. "These people are trained, well trained. Experts in urban military tactics and modern day espionage."
The theory resonates uncomfortably well with what they know about Rwen Tolovi and those he associates with in the underworld.
But Dick keeps trying to convince himself it isn't true until he sees a line of four identical humvees roll out of the tunnel – all of them with blacked out windows and hints of a good number of other special enhancements – and hears Batgirl report in that she's watching the same thing on her end.
"Can we tell where Jaybird is?" Dick asks, pushing down the wavering ache.
"I was hoping that it's just been the tunnel lining that blocking his gps, but unfortunately, we're still blind," Batgirl announces.
"Robin's GPS is actively being blocked by the vehicles," Batman concludes, confirming Dick's fear. "Nightwing, Batgirl, each of you follow the convoy in front of you. I will rendezvous at the assumed destination. Do not engage. Even if you get eyes on Robin, wait for back up."
"Copy that," they both reply at once.
Both of them are vocally opposed to the course, as made clear by their aggravated tones, but they both know better than to disobey in this scenario.
Getting Jason back is the priority – but rushing in like desperate idiots could only serve to make the situation more dangerous, and it might end up getting all of them killed.
It's painful to stalk the convoy without knowing if this is the one where Jason is being held – without any way to tell which car he's in if they even could tell which convoy.
It's impossible for Dick to keep track of the conversation between Rwen and Jason as they carry on talking – discussing a few of the finer points of the science involved that Dick won't bother pretending he will ever understand.
And it seems like there's a building interference as fewer and fewer of the words make it clearly to his ears – as bursts of static begin to block some of them out.
A part of Dick is glad that Jason is getting Rwen to talk about all of this – certain that these details will help Bruce and Babs concoct a cure, or at least find a way to help Jason come down from this high without permanent damage.
Dick can hear the purr of something wrong in Jason's voice, not quite bravado or adrenaline, but something affecting.
It has to be the drug Tolovi fed him starting to assert its influence.
They're still three blocks from the Raven when Rwen makes Jason down another drink.
Jason makes the same protesting gurgles at the taste, adding, "Lemon or peach vodka might actually make this shit taste like lemonade, as advertised."
This time, Jason seems to feel it more – and feel it faster.
He doesn't remark on it, but Dick can hear the way his breathing changes – the way it deepens and mellows almost like he'd settled in to a quick pace on a treadmill run.
It's easy, unbothered, not at all concerned with direction, duration, or distance – just on the workout and the potential to push himself a little bit further than he could before.
Jason's voice changes, too.
It gets deeper, warmer, and there's an extra oomph to the growl – but it's pure confidence and openly calm aggression, without any of the fear or fury Dick would usually expect to hear behind it from Jason.
Which doesn't seem like it could possibly bode well.
And to make the worried, guilty swirl twisting in Dick's gut just that much worse, Jason stops talking shortly after that – so Dick can't tell anything about his coherency or mindset. He can only stalk a convoy of humvees as he listens to a drug lord wire up his little brother on something so dangerous the government barely acknowledges that the threat exists.
Dick has failed Jason, here.
Yet again, Dick has failed to be the big brother Jason needs, and the worst part is that he can't figure out exactly what went wrong – can't identify the crux where it all went off course and he clearly should have done something different.
There must have been one, though.
There must have been a moment when he could've stopped this from happening… even if he'd just gone with Jason to check on Tim before patrol… or thought about it sooner and convinced Jason to drag Tim out for dinner at Wayne Manor…
The convoy Dick is following – and the one Barbara's chasing – both arrive at the Raven before Dick's thoughts can spiral much further.
Batgirl, Nightwing, and Batman gather on the Raven's rooftop, feeling the pulse of the club's music vibrating through the structure.
They watch in silence as the SUVs circle up in the club's empty backlot and the goons and gangsters begin to unload.
Dick is nearly overcome with the shock of relief that strikes him when he sees Jason step out of an SUV. Dick is unbearably grateful to see Jason moving under his own power, and also somewhat unburdened to observe that Jason has stepped out of an SUV that had been part of the convoy Batgirl had been tailing.
He feels a bit bad about the relief he feels for that, but he knows that Barbara won't beat herself up half as much as Dick would from the realization that he'd been so close to Jason and been unable to do anything to help him.
The goons and gangsters begin shuffling into the Raven as the Bats watch from the shadows above. They've all studied the Raven's schematics enough to know that Jason and the crate of drugs will be heading straight down to the sub-basement.
This one, since they've had more time to study it, is not entirely inaccessible.
And all three Bats can take different routes inside – Nightwing through the airvents, Batgirl through the slim windows that line the ground floor, and Batman through a few layers of carefully dearmed security access doors from the shodows outside the backlot.
A quick discussion cements the plan for Batman to cause a distraction once the trio gets inside and for Batgirl and Nightwing to work together to obtain a sample of the drug in Jason's system and to get all three teenage vigilantes out alive.
Jason is the priority, so if a sample can't be easily obtained by Batgirl or Nightwing, Batman himself will attempt to acquire one before getting out himself – though, only after the other three are safely away.
It's not the best plan Nightwing has ever been a part of with Batman, but it's the best one they have for getting Jason out safely and as he slips carefully into the airduct and begins to fluidly twine his way down to the basement, Dick feels absolutely certain that the plan will at accomplish its primary objective.
And that's enough for now.
Author's Note (Part II):
If it seems like Dick is a bit overly angsty, it's because I'm writing him under the idea that this is the first time since his parents fell that he's had some one he loves and calls family being placed in such directly life threatening peril (and he is not reacting well to that). He does address that aspect eventually, but right here he doesn't even realize that it's why he's reacting so particularly poorly... that there even IS a separate 'why' behind it.
NEXT TIME: Tim... does /things/... He's a genius and an effective plan-maker / plan-executor... He is NOT good at making healthy, reasonable, level-headed decisions...