TWB Chapter 16
8 August 2013
Dick moaned as he came to. He felt all kinds of sore, in the way that one gets from sleeping in a weird position. He rotated his head around letting it flop and arched his back as he yawned. He went to stretch his arms up, but they stopped with a jerk, something thin digging in. Dick's eyes popped open and he quickly figured out that, no, he did not fall asleep on the couch again. Nope. It was much more than that. He craned his head so that he could see what his wrist was tied to and with what.
It really showed how fucked up his life was that he almost sobbed in relief to see zip ties biting into the skin. Zip ties. He could do those. Bruce taught him zip ties. He started going through his kidnapped process, and what did it say that he had one? That he still remembered it? Wrists were zip-tied to what felt like a metal conduit or handle, smooth and thin but firm. They were just above his head, equidistant at several inches to each side, just far enough that he couldn't quite reach either with his mouth. His hands were a bit clammy, but not numb. That was good.
He wasn't gagged, wasn't blindfolded. They had taken his shoes and socks, and all his pockets had been searched, emptied, and turned inside out. That meant his slinky was gone. Oh well. He hadn't gotten a cellphone yet anyways. They left his clothes, which was a relief. He was pretty grateful that his shirt was still a bit big on him, as it covered more of his arms, even though it had slid down a bit.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room, Dick was able to make out more of his surroundings. It was an unfinished room, most likely a basement. It felt damp and smelt of mold and sawdust. There were a couple windows at the far end peeking out from behind hastily placed cardboard, taped in place by duct tape. All the non-visible parts of a house—piping, electrical conduits, insulation, vents—were in clear view. The walls were a wooden frame with pink and white insulation bags covering the in between spaces and the ground was cold concrete.
Dick was tied to some exposed piping, hollow when he tapped on it, with his back to a concrete reinforced pillar. He could tell by leaning against the pole that it was load bearing. There was a certain way the vibrations of knocking against it sounded that told him. He couldn't knock with his hands, but his head was fine so long as he did it lightly. He was cold.
Time passed after his inspection of the room was complete to the best of his range of motion. No one came down to the basement. Dick pulled his knees in, trying to maneuver so that his shirt covered some of his knees. This gave him a decent ball, defensible for sure. He winced when he moved his right ankle and tried not to rotate it. He tugged at his wrists several times and tried to stretch out with his mouth enough that he could reach his wrists. When that didn't work, he tried tucking his legs under him and pushing up and trying again at the new height. Not only did that not work; it was pretty uncomfortable too. He stretched a leg out, but kept his other knee close, resting his head on it as he evaluated. He didn't stop trying to tug on his wrists, but it was more halfhearted.
Most of the methods, and all of the quicker ones, that Bruce taught him for getting out of zip ties required him to be able to reach them, with either his teeth or fingers. The long end had been cut off, and they were snug enough that he managed to accidentally tighten one instead of loosening. Yanking his arms forward real fast definitely didn't work, as he found out the hard way. He stuffed his pain in a little box and shoved it in the back corner of his mind with all the other bad feelings. Unfortunately, while the zip tie was slippery now, it was too tight to get it over his hand and moving too much just made more blood slide down his arms to drip from his elbow to the floor.
Dick heard them long before he saw them. Heavy footsteps and harsh breathing. There was the sound of a doorknob turning and a swish as the door swung open. Then, thump thump thump as three people came down the steps. There was no echo. The insulation acted as a dampener, absorbing all sound, which wasn't good for the child being held prisoner there. One set of footsteps sounded assured and confident. The second was hesitant, feet dragging, but still heavy. The last set of footsteps seemed determined, long strides moving along. They rounded the corner a second later. A couple beams of light, bobbing up and down, preceded his captors. Flashlights, most likely.
"Where's the damn light?" One of them said. There was a bit of fumbling around. A beam of light crossed over Dick's face, right in the eyes. He flinched at the sudden brightness, but it moved away as quickly as it came. There was the ka-klink of a switch being flipped by a string, and then light flooded the room, coming from a bare bulb in the center. His eyes slammed shut, but he immediately reopened them to a squint. Several blinks brought his captors into view.
They each had a swath of cloth tied loosely over their mouth and nose, and baseball caps pulled low over their eyes. There was a bulky, muscular girl, a skinnier girl with a red tank top, standing tall, and a guy in a leather jacket. They were all taller than Dick even if he was standing. In case that wasn't enough, they all wore gloves and shoes. The girl with the red tank carried a briefcase in one hand, some technical gadgets in the other.
"Well, would ye look at that." The one to Dick's left, Leather Jacket, jeered. "'e's awake." He dropped into a crouch, eyes level with Dick's eyes. "Hello, kiddie."
"Jack." That was all the girl in the center, Red Tank, needed to say. Leather Jacket stood back up, towering over Dick as he leaned against the pillar. Too close. Far too close. Muscles took a step to the Dick's right, blocking Dick's vision in that direction as effectively as Leather Jacket was doing to his left. Red Tank stepped closer as well, boxing him in. She stood over him, looking down her nose at him. Nothing was said for a few minutes, as all three stared down at the young teen, taking him in.
Dick studied them back, looking for weaknesses and who was the biggest danger. Leather Jacket or Muscles seemed evenly tied. Red Tank was clearly in charge but didn't seem the type to sully her hands with the dirty work. She wrinkled her nose at his wrists, which were still bleeding a bit, the right more so than the left. She made some sort of gesture, and then Muscles had hands on his forearms and Leather Jacket was cutting the zip tie and pulling it out of the cut. A fresh wave of blood accompanied it. He heard a sigh but couldn't see who it was.
Plop.
Red Tank had set the briefcase down and was rummaging through her pocket. Dick couldn't see what she pulled out, but assumed it was something for his wrists. A moment later, he heard the click of a cap opening to his left. He swiveled his head over and up to see Leather Jacket squirting something out onto his hands. A shiver went up Dick's spine when he felt something cold touch his wounds, before they began to burn as Leather Jacket rubbed it in. The man followed it up with rough bandages covering the afflicted skin. Muscles pulled Dick's arms down with a jerk, and Leather Jacket zip tied them together in the front, and then to one of the loops on Dick's jeans.
Before Dick could test it out, he was swept up beneath his knees and back by Muscles. His wrists yanked a bit on his pants at the sudden movement. Red Tank led the way up the stairs, breaking off to enter a different room. Muscles and Leather Jacket, LJ, took him to the bathroom, and sat him down on the toilet, taking great glee in their control over him. There was definitely some humiliation there. Next, he was dragged to the kitchen and shoved down into a chair. All the curtains and blinds were closed in this room, no light coming through. They force fed him a bowl of runny oatmeal that he almost choked on and a cup of water.
Fed and watered, Dick was moved to an empty room, the one Red Tank had gone to, and dropped in a large chair across from her. The woman studied him with narrowed eyes. A few minutes passed, the dark room sweltering and humid in the August heat. A key clattered ominously in the door. Eventually, he heard a switch flip, and Red Tank leaned forward, looking him in the eyes.
"What's your name?" She asked.
Dick kept his mouth firmly shut.
"Speak." She continued. "What is your name?"
Dick still didn't answer.
"Here's the thing, sugar." She said, face close to his. "We have all day and all night too."
Silence.
Red Tank sighed. "And here I thought we could start with an easy one." She snapped once, and a needle dipped into the skin of his shoulder. Dick was confused for a moment, but then it started to sting, like a green head had taken a taste. Painful and itchy, and he couldn't touch it.
The next eternity passed with a slowly mounting pain scale. They would hit the same spot 3-5 times before moving to the next one. By the end, Dick was crying and sniffling, in agony, trying to itch at his neck. Yet, he hadn't said a word. When his captors returned him to the basement, their faces were coated with frustration. They had started yelling at some point, making it that much more unbearable.
They weren't gentle with him. He was dragged downstairs, hitting every bump and the side railing a few times. They threw him against the pole and tied him up. Tight. Turns out, LJ had left to get climbing rope. They kept his hands where they were and just attached him crookedly from waist to just below his shoulders, a weave making it difficult to shrug off. The lights went out once more, and he was left alone.
Dick wasn't sure how long he was down there, but the light from the windows had faded, leaving him alone in complete darkness, the kind where you only know where things are by logic and memory. Dick struggled a little with the ropes, trying to at least scratch at his itches, but they were fairly secure. He did manage to remove the zip ties. Now that his hands were together, it was only a matter of maneuvering to reach the ones on one hand with the fingers of the other and shimming out. He straightened his arms and slowly, starting from his waist, wove his arms up and out.
When a bit of moonlight started to appear in the cracks of the window, Dick was running on empty, but both his arms were free, and the bindings had slackened enough that he was able to carefully stand up and step out. His legs shook and he tripped, barely able to get his arms in front of him in time to stop himself from faceplanting. He wobblily got on his feet, staying at a low crouch to keep his balance. The room swam as he stood up, and he almost fell over again, but managed to catch himself on the wall.
Bare feet quiet upon the basement floor, he crept to the outer wall, and felt his way along it, looking for a door. He circled the room once, getting a few splinters and cuts, and finally ran his hand into a hinge. He gave a puff of relief and started feeling around for a doorknob. To his surprise, the knob turned with a soft creak, and, while it took some force, he was able to get it open.
The door led to an open backyard. There was no furniture out there, but there was a staircase to a deck. Dick stayed beneath it and hugged the wall, ducking under windows as he passed them. He ignored anything he stepped on, with the exception of a pile of broken beer bottles that sent him sprawling, He picked himself up and pushed himself to keep going. Once he reached the edge of the property, he slipped through a set of hedges to the next one. Then, hugging the hedges and staying below their height, he slipped into the woods behind the house, to find another backyard.
Suburbs, then. He walked through the yard to the front of the house and started looking for toys in yards or any other signs of where happy children played during the day. He passed by about ten houses before finding one that looked the part. There were a few small bikes and a sprinkler, as well as a climbing tree. There were lights on, but Dick still hesitated to ring the doorbell. It was early, really early. Way too early for anyone sane to be up. As if hearing his thoughts, a few raindrops began to hit Dick's skin. He looked behind him and shifted uneasily when he saw the bloody footprints he had been leaving behind. There was a rumble of thunder, and the rain began to come down harder, and he knew that staying outside was a bad idea. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
When there was no movement after the first ringtone sang out, Dick waited a few minutes before ringing it again, hunching in on himself and glancing furtively back the way he came. Another light switched on, so someone was up. No one came to the door right away. Then, a little kid's voice drifted through the door.
"Daddy. Mommy. There's someone at the door."
Dick shifted again, now shivering fiercely and swaying more than a little. The edges of his vision were dark, but at least his bangs weren't quite sticking to his face yet. A little face peeked out through the curtains to the side of the door. The kid was only a few inches shorter than Dick, if that, but he still had baby fat, so probably not middle school. The kid's face looked away, letting the curtains fall back over the door.
"It's a big kid." He informed the adult that had come down the creaky staircase. "He looks cold." The porch and foyer lights flicked on and Dick winced at the sudden brightness after the however many hours he'd been stuck in the dark. A tired looking man opened the door, running a hand down his face and looked out, higher than Dick's head. Then, what his kid said must have registered because the man looked down. He blinked, eyes drooping a bit, and just stared at him for an awkward minute or so.
Dick's feet were really starting to sting, and the rest of his body was aching. He managed a squeak, but the words stuck in his throat. He tried to get his point across on his face. Wally always said his eyes were super expressive. He held up 9 fingers then 1 then 1. 911. Help.
It was enough. It took a sec for the man to fully register the scene, but he could see when the shock gave way to understanding. The man ushered him inside, the kid scampering out of the way, and called up the stairs. "Hun! Get my phone!"
9 August 2013
When Ethan Scott went to sleep the evening of August 8th, after having put to bed all three of his children, he was not… well, he was hoping he would sleep until his alarm went off at 7 to get ready for work. It was never a guarantee in this house, but his children were all happy when they drifted off. He was hoping their dreams were full of little fish and turtles.
Of course, Mandy was just short of 4 and a regular ray of sunshine would wake her, despite the fact she slept with a rocket ship nightlight. Connor and Cooper were little rascals but seemed to trade off keeping the other up with snoring or nightmares. So, who knew?
There were many reasons Ethan might have woken up with a start at going on 3 am. The doorbell, well, what was at the door, that was a new one. Cooper woke on the first ring as well, and Ethan heard him pounding down the steps while Ethan tried to rub sleep out of his eyes. He yawned as he got up and followed in the boy's wake as the door rang a second time.
"Daddy! Mommy! There's someone at the door!" Cooper called up the stairs.
'Yes, Cooper.' Ethan thought. 'The doorbell rang. Of course there's someone at the door.' What they were doing there at 3 am, was another question. Cooper was peeking through the curtains when Ethan got to the door, looking at whoever was outside. He looked up with a far too awake face at his father.
"It's a big kid." He informed Ethan, stepping away from the window when his father nudged him back a bit. "He looks cold."
As if in response to these words, there was a flash of lightning followed 10 seconds later by a loud rumble of thunder. Ethan turned the lights on because it was early and also dark outside. He glanced at Cooper, making sure the kid was out of view before opening the door a crack.
There was a kid there. A big kid, as Cooper had said. He did indeed look cold. That was about all that processed for the first little bit. He just stared for an awkward moment because it was way too early for a kid to be out. He didn't really believe it because why. Why him? Why at 3 am when it was raining and a bit chilly? The kid was shivering and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
Finally, it processed that yes, there was in fact a kid outside his door. And it was in fact raining. There was no good reason a kid would be outside so early in the middle of the suburbs, and he didn't look like any of the neighbors or their kids. Ethan had yet to meet everyone. It was a big enough neighborhood that he might never know everyone. But he had met most of the kids. This one wasn't familiar.
The boy had light colored hair, maybe blond. It contrasted a bit with his skin tone, which was a mix of tan skin and red rashes. He wore a torn t-shirt and jean capris that went just past his knees. He didn't have shoes or socks on and was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His hands were wrapped around his chest, holding onto each bicep. He let go and tried to say something, but Ethan couldn't hear anything really, and was not awake enough to try to read the boy's lips.
The kid solved the problem by holding up his hands and signing 9-1-1.
And that was all Ethan really needed to get his sh-self into gear. He yanked the door open and ushered the boy inside as Cooper helpfully moved out of the way. "Go get some towels." He told his son, wincing when he saw the bloody pool left behind on the doorstep. A glance at the path left behind showed clearly how heavy the bleeding was. Cooper scampered off. "HUN!" Ethan called up the stairs to his wife Bets. "Get my phone!"
Directing the boy to the kitchen, Ethan started going through a mental list of things to do now that he could see the boy, and his injuries, more clearly. First, he sat him down at the kitchen table. Then, he grabbed supplies: the first aid kit, pain meds, a pen and paper, some cheese cubes and crackers, a cup of water… Cooper ran in with the towels before his wife made it down the stairs, although he heard her call out a question or two. Connor followed in Cooper's wake, looking around curiously.
"What's going on?" Bets asked. "Who's this?" Ethan shook his head because he still didn't know. It didn't matter at this moment in time. There was a hurt kid. That was enough. "Oh." Bets said then and reached for the boy's left wrist. There was a medical bracelet there. Ethan hadn't clocked that yet. "Richard." She read and looked to the boy for confirmation. Richard gave a short nod. Bets ran her finger over a rough bandage. "What happened here?" She asked. The boy didn't say anything, but a chill ran over him and he shook his head. "May I?" She asked. She unraveled the bandage on the left wrist, while Ethan set the snack by the boy's right elbow and snatched up the phone.
"Check his feet," Ethan muttered in Bets's ear. He dialed 911 on the phone and set it between his ear and shoulder.
"911. What's your emergency?" The operator asked, somehow sounding very awake.
"Hello. This is Ethan Scott at 9110 Mayberry Avenue. I'm calling about a lost, or, I guess found, child. He came to my door and looks hurt. Can you send the police? And maybe an ambulance? No Connor. No ice cream."
"It's not for me. It's for him." Connor protested. Cooper helpfully handed Connor the ice cream scoop. Bets glanced up but left the decision up to Ethan. She had the first aid kit open and was cleaning Richard's wounds with a wet towel.
"Ice cream?" The 911 operator asked.
"Sorry. My son." Ethan said.
The police arrived about ten minutes later. Lights flashing, but no sirens running due to the time of night. By this point, Cooper and Connor had made sundaes and handed one to the kid, who first picked at it, and then gobbled it down once his hunger kicked in. Bets had finished bandaging where she could and was working on hot chocolate for the kids and coffee for herself. Via a mix of charades and fingerspelling, they managed to get an age, 14, and full name, Richard Wayne, from the boy, as well as a succinct description of the situation… "kidnapped" and "escaped". Right as the flashing red and blue lights reached them, Mandy wandered down dragging her stuffed toy behind her with one hand and rubbing at her eyes with the other.
The police questioned them for a while, and then the paramedics came and took the boy over to the ambulance. They complimented Bets on her first aid, and had the kid lay down on the stretcher so they could look at his feet. Bets had dabbed most of the blood away, but they were still bleeding. There was some glass imbedded in the sole along with several splinters. The medics took him, and a travel mug of hot chocolate, to the hospital to get a tox screen because they didn't like what their travel machinery told them.
And that was that. The police left at 5 am but told them they would be in touch. It took another half hour or so to wrangle the little rascals into bed, and so Ethan sent a message to his supervisor telling him there was an emergency overnight and that he would be late to work and could give more details when he got in. Bets sent something similar and they both exchanged a meaningful look before shutting off their respective alarms. The kids would wake them up. Then, he and Bets collapsed onto their bed and went back to sleep.
A/N
Hey all. I'm sending my computer in to get fixed, so posting this now instead of later. I'll be offline the next few weeks until I get it back.
Dick gets himself out. Because he can. Because he's Richard John Grayson-Wayne, the first Robin and first successful child sidekick. A leader in the hero world who literally everyone respects, even though he is the most kidnapped and tortured character. Here starts the return of Dick's self-confidence and strength.
Story Time about this chapter:
I was working on, basically finished with, Ethan's scene back in late August, early September, the day before someone rang my doorbell at 3 am. I did not have the same reaction as Ethan. I had two roommates, and thought I was dreaming it for the first half hour, since this was fresh in my mind. Then, I realized that no, the doorbell actually was ringing. Both my roommates were out cold, and didn't wake up when I knocked on their doors, but they were present and accounted for. I couldn't for the life of me think of anyone friendly who would be ringing the doorbell at 3 am. Most of my friends graduated with me in May, and those who stayed on for their Master's like me did not know my address yet. My roommates were both foreign exchange students, so I thought they weren't likely to have anyone ringing the doorbell at 3 am either. I couldn't actually see the front stoop without going downstairs, and I didn't have a fearless little kid to follow down like Ethan did.
So, I called the police. Turns out, one of my roommates had a friend visiting from Europe and did not tell us. They went out to a club and the friend went home with a girl. Not expecting the friend back that night, my roommate went to sleep, again without telling us he had a friend in town. This friend was the one ringing the doorbell.
No one got hurt. And we got it sorted out. But it was definitely a contrast to this scene. I debated changing it, but the flow was good and, well, someone with kids might react differently than I did, so.
End Story Time
