168 hours before (7 days):
Midnight
Mt. Justice

Tim had trouble processing the information Dick was giving them. Damian couldn't be... gone. No one kidnaps Damian, that just didn't happen (try kidnap an assassin-superhero brat that had been trained to kill since birth, not to mention that no one would want to be around the Demon Brat for long- seriously, who'd want to listen to his angry babbling (Jason always compared him to a furious kitten in those moments) for even a second?).

And on top of that, this was the second time in so many nights that Robin had been attacked. There was obviously someone after him and Tim had the bad feeling that Damian had been holding back information about his mysterious attacked earlier. There was no way someone could overpower Damian easily, especially not two times in a row. Yes, Tim didn't exactly like the kid- no one really did- but he respected him. Damian was probably the most skilled fighter at his age of them all and would be just as good as Batman once he had more experience and time to train.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, standing next to Nightwing. The whole team was gathered around them, asking for answers. His brother sighed tiredly. "I will explain everything once Batman gets here. I've told him about Robin and he'll arrive in an hour, until then, I suggest you change and rest or take a shower."
Without waiting to receive an answer, he turned around and walked out of the room, his shoulders slouching. Tim threw a worried glance at Jason, who stood to his left, the red helmet tucked under his arm and his brows furrowed in... worry? Concern? Annoyance? Tim wasn't quite sure, but he knew that, whoever had Damian, was gonna pay.

Their family may be a bit dysfunctional, but they were a family and you don't mess with one bird without having to deal with the others. Tim didn't know why Damian was abducted or if the kidnapper will come after them, too, but someone just started a war.
_

Dick flopped down on his bed with a tired sigh, closing his eyes to calm his mind. He gently tucked off his mask and let it drop to the floor. How could he have let this happen? He was sure that the man who took Damian was Castor, and that Damian was a bargain ship of sorts. His eyes flickered to the phone that lay on his nightstand. He wouldn't be surprised if it started ringing. Castor had called him before, so why not now? Why was he waiting, probably hiding somewhere... with Damian. What was he planning, what could be happening to Damian right now, while Dick was just lying there in the dark, almost hyperventilating because he had no friggin' idea of what might be happening to his little brother!
He took a deep, shuddering breath, squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists so tightly around the sheets that his knuckles turned white. Panicing wouldn't help Damian.

When his phone went off, he almost jumped out off his skin, grabbing the device in an iron like grip. He looked at the caller I.D. and sighed in relieve, and maybe even annoyance, as he realized it was only Barbara. The longer Damian was gone, the less likely it would be to get him back.
He tried to calm himself and faked a bright smile, putting a cheerful note in his voice.

"Hey, Babs, what's up?"

"Nothing really. I was just wondering something about next week."

"Next week?" he asked, only half his brain paying attention, while the other half tried to think of a way to find Damian.

"Yes, next week... your birthday," she said slowly and Dick could imagine a worry crinkle between her eyes. (Damian had one, too, when he didn't get a move right on the first try).

"Oh, right," he muttered, "my birthday."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Dick reassured her.

"Really, 'cause you've been talking about this party for months now. It's your eighteenth birthday, Dick, and you told me a hundred times over that you were so exited to finally move to Blüdhaven. What's going on?"

Dick sighed. He should have come to terms with Barbara being able to detect all his secrets a long time ago, but he just couldn't deal with her right now, no matter how harsh that may sound. He had to find his little brother.

"Everything's perfect, Babs. Just concentrate on getting better."

He heard her scoff through the phone. "Getting better? I'm paraplegic, Grayson, I don't have a freaking cold. I don't 'get better', so you better tell me what the hell is going on."

"Fine," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair, "Damian's missing."

There was a beat of silence, then Barbara hissed, "What do you mean, 'missing'?"

"He's been kidnapped, right from under my nose." He could hear his own desperation.

"And you weren't gonna tell me?" Babs asked quietly, her voice laced with hurt. Dick groaned. He managed to mess everything up today, didn't he.

"I- It's not like..."

"You think I'm useless now," she growled and Dick sat up, his heart clenching.

"No, that's not true," he answered truthfully, but she didn't seem to believe him.

"I may not be Batgirl anymore, Richard Grayson, but I deserve to know about things like that! I can still help!"

Dick could tell she was seething with anger. "I'm coming to the mountain," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Dick sighed softly, his free hand massaging his temples. "All right, just be careful."

"And then we are gonna have a talk about our relationship, from girlfriend to boyfriend." And with those angry words, she ended the call.

167 hours before:
Gordon household

Barbara stared at the phone in her lap, a dark scowl on her face. She couldn't believe that Dick would do that to her. Yes, she wasn't Batgirl anymore, but she was still part of the Batfamily. Well, Dick seemingly didn't so. She sighed angrily and put the phone away, resting her head against the back of the wall. Why had she been so careless? One mistake and her whole life was just... destroyed.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" she said, putting on a convincing smile to greet her father. He sat down on the bed beside her wheelchair and gave her a long, analysing look. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she answered, trying to keep her voice light-hearted. He didn't seem to buy it.
"I recognize a fake smile when I see one, Barb."
With a defeated sigh, she turned the wheelchair around, facing her dad.
"Ever since the accident, I just feel like I'm... useless, you know. I feel like I lost everything. I can't do sport, I can't reach things on top of the cupboard, I can't..." she sighed.
"You can't swing around Gotham at night anymore?" finished her father, a knowing look in his eyes.

Barbara snapped her head around with a gasp, her eyes widening. She coughed loudly and tried to school her expression, but the shock of her father's words had left her reeling. "I don't-"
"Don't deny it, Barbara. I am your father. Do you really think I wouldn't notice my daughter sneaking out at night to play hero? I'm the police Commissioner, do not forget that."
"Dad, I'm sorry, I-"
He raised his hand to silence her and she lowered her head in shame. "That is a conversation for another time. Now, you tell me what happened."

She raised her head and looked at him with teary eyes. "Dad-"
He gave her a hard look and she swallowed. "Robin's missing and since I'm no longer Batgirl, I seem to be unimportant and useless to them."
She didn't even notice she was crying until her father wiped away her tears. "Babs, you are not useless. Your legs never were your strength, your mind is. And as far as I am concerned, your mind's as sharp as ever."

She shrugged. She had never measured her value simply based on her physical traits, but being a vigilante without any sort of movement below her waist was impossible.

On the other hand, vigilantism was not limited to literal fighting, most of the larger cases were actually spend in front of a computer screen or investigating suspects, so maybe her father was right.

She was not the same as before, but she was still a superhero. And her dad was right, she had never relied on her movement as much as on her mind. She wasn't just some girl who knew martial arts, she could hack into softwares like it was nothing and form plans out of thin air.

"You're right," she sniffed, rubbing at her eyes furiously and smiled watery.
Gordon gave her shoulder a squeeze. "But before you go off saving the world, I wanna know some details about them."
"I'm not telling you their identities," she said forcefully, crossing her arms.
Gordon chuckled. "I know. I was more thinking about embarrassing accidents, characteristics, what the deal with Red Hood is- seriously, since when do people who try to kill Batman wear a bat insignia on their chest- and why the hell is Robin using a Katana?"
Barbara laughed. "You sound like a crazy fanboy."
Gordon shrugged. "I'm just curious."
"Well, then let's start at the beginning."

165 hours before:
Mt. Justice

Barbara arrived two hours later and even though she was only reaching everyone's waists, no one dared to stand in her way as she wheeled to her boyfriend's side, glared hard and long at him and then moved past ihm, Dick following with his head hung low.

Despite the situation, Cass had to snicker and change a quick glance with her adopted sister. She had no doupt that Babs would kill Dick, and to be honest, he deserved it.

Cass may not be much of a talker, but she analysed Dick's behaviour and he was obviously lying about something. She just couldn't figure out what. If he knew a way to get Damian back, he would have said so, Cassandra was certain of that; Dick would never willingly put his friends or family in danger. Just what other motive did he have to hide something, if it wasn't connected to Damian's dissapearence?

Cass sighed lowly and tried to clear her head. She could worry about Dick later, right now, she needed to find her other brother. Her gaze found Stephanie's and the two girls tured back towards the holo screen before them, the others gathering around.

Before Babs had arrived, they had been analysing the video material from their mission, trying to figure out who was behind the kidnapping. The shipment turned out to be a prisoner of the Leauge, but during the assult on Robin, the assassins had managed to get away with their prey.

Connor growled. "We already cleared up that the guy can't be from the League and that he's not one of the villains we have faced. There was obviously a third party involved, but without more information, we won't get much further." Cass said nothing, but agreed with a nod of her head. Connor was right, if they didn't find any other leads, there was no possibility to locate Robin's kidnapper. The man had worn a black outfit and a black mask, covering his whole head. Steph seemed to think the same way, because she nodded and shut down the screen. "Connor's right, we won't find anything now. Maybe we should call it a day and all get a round of sleep before continuing our search tomorrow."

"That's probably a good idea," said Babs, who wheeled up behid them. She seemed tired and worn out and Cass felt sympathy for the older girl. This had hit all of them hard, but Babs had had her fair share of tragedies just a few months ago, she didn't need another drama.
"Hey, where's Dick?" asked Artemis, and Barbara sighed deeply, shrugging her shoulders. "He got a call from someone and kicked me out." Cass frowned and dread pooled in her stomach. It wasn't like Dick to be rude, especially not towards Barbara. What the hell was going on here?

Meanwhile:
Secret location

The words that shot through Damian's head as descriptions for his situation were anything but child-friendly. To be fair, this kind of predicament wasn't new, but it never ceased to annoy the crap out of him.

One, his head was killing him. Being rendered unconscious by Chloroform always left him was a headache that threatened to split his head in two. It took all of his willpower not to groan and give any sign of consciousness.

Then there was the constant throbbing in his side and Damian could feel his pulse through the injury. Something warm and sticky coated his hip and he guessed he was suffering from blood loss. Keeping his eyes closed and breathing regular, Damian tried to assess what had caused the injury. He felt light-headed, which meant he'd lost too much blood already, so the weapon that had hit him had gone deep, but the pain was centred on one point only, so it had to have been thin and sharp. A knife, probably.

He tried to listen if anyone was in the room with him, but the blood rushing though his ears was too loud and his senses were still affected by the Chloroform.
The cold that crept into his skin made him aware of the loss of his shoes and gloves and- to no surprise- his utility belt. His bare hands and feet were bound to a cold chair- probably metal- with thick iron chains. Overkill much. His chest was also bound to the chair, the weight making it hard to breath. Feeling the comforting fabric of his domino mask, he decided to just play dead until his captor decided to 'wake him up'.

164 hours before:
Mt. Justice; Dick's room:

Dick felt bad for sending Babs away like that, but the second his phone had rung, his heart had begun racing and his thoughts were only on Damian. He recognized the caller ID from his last call with Castor. He accepted the call with trembling fingers.

"Where is he?"

"Not here."

Dick frowned at the voice. It was distorted through a voice modulator, but it was obviously not Castor's. The speaker seemed older and again, strangely familiar.

"Who are you?"

"Is that what you really want to know?"

Dick's frown deepened. The new speaker was obviously more mature than Castor, and not only in age. He didn't seem to have that crazy vibe around him and Dick knew that this man was way more dangerous. He seemed to have his head in the game, to actually know what he was doing. Castor had given away a lot in their first call and had gotten straight to the point. This man would not.

"Where is Robin?"

"Your brother is alive. Al Ghul's are hard to kill."

Dick knew what had been left unspoken, alive, but not necessarily unarmed. Al Ghul, a name not many people knew.

Figuring out Robin was the son of the billionaire Bruce Wayne was one thing, but no one but a selected few knew about his past with the League of Assassins. Whoever this man was, he did his homework.

"What do you want?" From me...

"I'll send you a text. Figure it out and you will get your brother back in one piece.
And Grayson, if the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives, why is Rickon dead?"

"What-" but he only received static. "Damn it!" Dick dropped his head in his hands and sank to the floor, back resting against the wall. How did everything go south so fast?
A shudder run down his spine. He really shouldn't be surprised that the man knew he liked Game of Thrones. And the message was clear. Tell the other bats and Damian dies. Though seriously, quoting Game of Thrones? He shook his head and blinked back angry tears. His shoulders tensed when he heard the beep of his phone.
The chase had begun.

You want your brother back? Come find me. Though I do have to say I do not understand why you would want the brat back. After all, you are the first and only Boy Wonder, wearing your big boy pants or not. But remember, you're on a deadline. If you are not able to find him in time, you have zero chance at getting him back. In one piece anyway.
I give you one advice, don't come looking. I wouldn't want the replacement to spoil our reunion. But, if you do decide to search for him, do it in three hours, or I'll start sending back body pieces. He has been a thorn in my side for far too long, and I may not be a saint and won't go to haven once I'm dead, but neither will he.
Good luck.

Dick messaged his temples. This guy was testing him, testing his mental agility. He wanted to see how long Dick could keep going, could live with the weight of a missing brother on his shoulders, could keep following clues and grasping at straws, how long he would keep this bystander act up and could lead the others to believe that everything was fine. The man, whoever he was, was wondering how far he could push before something broke- Dick's mind in this case. And with this text, he was testing his intelligence. Dick had to find Damian with the information given.

Looking over the text once again, Dick realized that the guy should prove-read his texts. Heaven is not... Dick's mouth dropped open slightly. Not heaven, haven. Blüdhaven. It would make sense, considering he wanted to move there after his eighteenth birthday. Just that 'Haven was a big city, so where...

His eyes raced over the text once again, looking for hidden meanings.
After all, you are the first and only Boy Wonder.
First and only. 1? Maybe he had to look for a house number, a street name or something like that.
"Deadline," he mused, chewing on his lip.
If you are not able to find him in time, you have zero chance at getting him back.
He had a number right there.
0.
And then the replacement thing again. Maybe another 1? After all, he was the first Robin. Or a 2, because Damian was the second Robin?
But, if you do decide to search for him, do it in three hours,
Another number. 3.
His eyes searched the text again, but he couldn't find anymore numbers. 1023? Or 1013?

Dick's eyes widened as he looked at the last sentence. He has been a thorn in my side for far too long, and I may not be a saint and won't go to haven once I'm dead, but neither will he.
It was all so obvious! How could he not have seen it before? A thorn in his side, 1013, Blüdhaven!
1013 Parkthorn Avenue. The apartment he had been looking at with Bruce only days before. His future home. They were there, Dick was sure of it. Damian was there.

160 hours before:
Secret location

Robin raised his eyebrows at the man leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a crazy grin on his face. He wanted nothing more than to wipe it off. Strangely enough, the older hadn't said anything yet, just stared at the Wayne with those cold, blue eyes. Damian glared right back, his blue-ish eyes blazing with anger. How dare that imbecile chain him to a chair and laugh at him. He was Damian Wayne, Robin and the son of Batman, the Wonder Boy of Gotham. No one humiliated him like this and got away with it. He played every scenario of the man's death over and over in his head, imagining how good it would feel to sink his Katana into his opponent's grinning face. But sadly, he had neither his Katana, nor the chance to actually do anything but glower.

"You look cute when you're angry," mocked the man, leaning close to pinch his cheek, but Robin turned his head and his teeth snapped shut where the other's fingers had been only milliseconds before. He didn't bother to reply otherwise.

Damian hadn't said a single world since the villain had come in an hour ago.
"Now, that wasn't nice," chided the blue haired man and Robin smirked wickedly, raising his eyebrows in a silent challenge.
Castor didn't fall for it. "Don't worry, little birdie, he'll be here in about an hour."
Damian kept his face blank, trying not to show his confusion. Sure, he had no doubt that his father was on his way, but even Batman would need more than a few hours to find him, if no one left any clues.

How he knew how long he'd been held captive?
Well, for one, he was hungry and his throat was too dry. He had eaten a few hours before the mission, but his hunger wasn't as bad as that he could have been here for more than thirteen hours. It was probably around noon, a bit earlier if he had to guess. Not to mention that he had trouble keeping his eyes open. The past few days had been stressful and he'd only cought a couple hours of sleep and forced unconsciousness isn't restful either. From his calculations, Batman should be able to find him in about five to seven hours, not one. Sure, his father was the world's greatest detective, but no one had told him why he had been abducted so far and it just wouldn't make sense to leave clues for Batman to follow, not if Castor wanted something from Damian.

"Well," mused Joker's son, fingers stroking an imaginary beard. "I guess it's hard to lose the Bat after one of his sons was snatched right from under his nose, but I have faith that he'll be able to escape daddy's watchful eyes. After all, he's a big boy now, almost a legal adult even."

Rage painted his vision red as he realized that the- now obvious- trap wasn't meant for Batman, but for Nightwing. And another realization slammed into him like a speeding train. Castor knew that Grayson was almost eighteen, meaning... their identities have been compromised.
"Who are you?" he growled, the tremor in his voice hidden by rage. No one touches his big brother.
"You'll see, little one, you'll see."

159 hours before:
Dick's soon-to-be apartment in Blüdhaven

Dick took a deep breath as he opened the wooden door, arms raised in a defensive position. His heart hammered in his chest, but he tried to appear as calm as possible, taking careful steps and keeping his hands from shaking. He stepped into the apartment, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Dick's hope to find Damian was crushed as the lights turned on and he had to shield his eyes against the blinding light. Blinking furiously, he could see the silhouette of a man sitting on a couch, legs outstretched, but no sign of Damian.

Dick had known that it wouldn't be that easy, but deep down, he'd hoped to get Damian back as soon as he opened that door. The kid was arrogant and thought himself better than anyone else, but he was his little brother and Dick would do anything to get him back.

He blinked a few more times until the silhouette of the man came into focus. His hands were buried deep inside the pockets of a hoodie and Dick couldn't see above his nose under the dark hood. He was sitting on the leather couch, his posture relaxed, feet propped on the coffee table. For a moment, Dick didn't say anything, arms still raised, but the man made no move to attack him.

"Where's Damian?" Dick demanded, eyes glaring at the stranger. The man cocked his head to the side, a small smile on his lips. "The brat's fine." Dick tensed at the voice, fists dropping to his sides slowly. It was the same voice he'd heard over the phone three nights ago, when he'd discovered Joker had a son.
"You're Castor," he stated, frowning slightly. The man in front of him seemed... sane enough, and his voice was void of any laughter.
"Do you truly not remember me?" asked Castor, not acknowledging Dick's interest in his father.
Dick shook his head no.
With a swift move, Castor pulled down his hood, pale blue eyes glaring into Dick's baby blue one and memories hit Dick like a crashing plane.

_
Dick was nine, small for his age and couldn't speak English very well, not to mention that he'd just watch his parents fall to their deaths.
He watched numbly as people in uniforms swarmed around the circus tend, one of them talking to Mr. Haly, pointing at Dick and saying something while gesticulating wildly with his hands. Dick ignored them.
His eyes were trained on the ground, where his parents had laid before four people took them away in black sacks. Dick had protested, pounding against the hands holding him back as tears streamed down his face. He didn't want his parents to leave.
But the person had hold onto him until the four men were gone and Dick had sobbed into the man's shoulder.
The man had introduced himself as James Gordon, had given Dick his jacket, seeing the small boy shiver in the cold.
Now, Dick could still smell the blood on the floor, his small hands clutching the nice man's jacket around him.

He looked up as someone lightly tapped his shoulder. A woman stood in front of him. She wore a white blouse and a white skirt, her shoes clicking on the ground. She looked at him with warm brown eyes, but Dick didn't like the pity in them. He just wanted to be with his parents, but no one would let him.
"Richard?" the woman asked and Dick pulled his attention back to her. He nodded timidly, Gordon's jacket pulled closer around himself.
"I'm Jean Hawkins." She extended her hand and Dick looked at her with questioning eyes. What was he supposed to do? With a small smile, the woman- Jean- dropped it again and crouched down to look him in the eye, careful not to get her skirt dirty. "I'm sorry for what happened to you."
Dick didn't understand all of her words, but he caught her sad tone and swallowed.
He didn't think his parents would come back soon.

She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, locking her eyes with his. "I know that this is hard for you, but..."
She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and even though he didn't really know what she was saying, it probably wasn't good.
"We have been looking for a place for you to stay, but all orphanages are full already, so you'll have to stay in another place." She sighed deeply and Dick detected tears in her eyes. Why was she crying? Did she miss her parents, too? "I'm so sorry." He understood those words and clasped her hand tightly, looking at her with big blue eyes. He didn't want to be left alone again.
_

The Juvenile Detention Center was not a nice place. The boys were mean and the adults were mean, too. The jacket Gordon had given him had been taken away and the only thing left was Peanut, his faithful elephant pet. At night, when he couldn't sleep and sat in his bed, the thin blanket thrown over his head and cuddling with peanut, he wished he could go back to Mr. Haly and his family. He didn't understand why they'd left him.

One day, when he was hiding in the wash room (two of the mean boys had stolen his food and Dick was trying not to cry), he heard the door open and pressed himself closer to the wall beneath the sink. Light footsteps came to a stop in front of him and Dick screwed his eyes shut, knees hugged to his chest. "Hey," whispered a soft voice and Dick peeked at the boy crouching beside him. He seemed to be a few years older and had a gentle smile on his lips. Dick slowly uncurled himself, but stayed where he was. Turning his head, he could get a proper look at the other. Dick had to stifle a snicker and bit his lips. He had funny hair.

"My name is C, at least that's what everyone calls me." He extended his hand and Dick hesitantly took it, letting C pull him to his feet. "Don't worry about those idiots," he continued and Dick hugged himself, arms trembling slightly. His English had gotten better and he now understood bits and pieces. "I will protect you, little one." Dick's head shot up and he gasped at the blue haired boy, eyes wide. "Why?" he whispered, still clutching his own shirt. "Because everyone has been the new kid at one point," explained C, shrugging nonchalantly, "I know how hard it is."

From there on, whenever another mean boy tried to take his food or hurt him, Castor was always there to protect him.
_

Dick stood stock still, eyes wide in shock.
"So you do remember," Castor said, eyes trained carefully on Dick's face. He'd expected that kind of reaction, though he'd hoped to get something other than a blank stare. Tears, maybe, or an apology.
Dick seemed at a loss for words, mouth slightly agape. "You- I- how?" he stuttered, confusion written all over his face. He shook his head, closing his mouth and standing straighter. "Why are you doing this, C?"

Castor pressed his lips together, hands balled to fists at his side. "Why?" he echoed, eyebrows pulled together. "Because you betrayed me!"
"I-"
But Castor was too engrossed by his rage, not letting Dick finish his sentence as he stomped towards him. "I protected you, made sure you were fed and able to sleep! I saved you!" By now, he was mere millimetres away from Dick's face, eyes blazing. "And then you decide to leave with that billionaire."

Dick didn't react, only fuelling Castor's anger. "I- I was adopted, I didn't belong there," he stuttered, trying to wrap his head around the surreal situation.
"But you owed me! You owed me everything, you belonged to me, you are mine!"
Dick's eyes hardened, his own anger boiling. "You are right, I owe you a lot, but you do not own me," he replied, voice calm and void of its usual happiness. "No one owns me and I belong to no one."

Castor moved to wrap his hands around the younger's neck, wanting to yell that yes, he did belong to him, when the com in his ear turned on.
"That's enough. You will have enough time to deal with him later. Come back to the base," ordered his partner and Castor flexed his fingers to resist the urge to choke the living hell out of the man who had betrayed him.
Instead, he grabbed him by the arm, growling, "I'm gonna bring you to the brat," leading him out of the apartment.
Dick didn't fight him.