"Nightwing!" Jason called, the sound was distorted by the voice modulator in his helmet. Redhood dropped from the apartment building's rooftop onto the rusting fire escape. His steel-toed boots clanged against the metal stairs as he climbed down them. Stealth was the Bat's thing, Redhood liked to let his foes know he was after them. Jason called for the missing hero again. No reply. He checked the tracking device in his hand, the tracker inserted in Dick's arm was right by him, but nobody was in the alley save for Jason. The vigilante touched the button over his ear, activating his communicator.
"No sign of Wing. I'm right over his tracker, but he's not here." A gruff voice replied to Jason's comment.
"Whoever took him knew about the tracker in his arm. This isn't some run of the mill villain." Jason gave a grunt in return and continued his search. He was about to peek behind a dumpster when a crack came from beneath his boot. Jason lifted his foot to reveal Dick's tracker, now broken from the weight of his step. Redhood cursed aloud, he hated when Bats was right. The helmeted teen returned his tracking device to its rightful pocket along with Dick's tracker.
"Everyone return to the Batcave. We'll have to continue the search tomorrow." Batman's voice had an exhausted undertone to it. Rightfully so, he had been awake for 72 hours now. Redhood made his way back to his motorcycle via rooftop. His mind raced with questions. Where had Dick gone? Who had taken him? When would they find him? Would he be alive when they found him? Jason shook away that last question. Sure, their line of work was dangerous, but he could only recall a few times when one of them had been close to death. Most nights the Bat Family returned home with just bruises and scratches, maybe a sprain or broken rib. Jason searched his memory for clues to Dick's whereabouts. The day of Dick's disappearance had been like any other in the Wayne Manor.
"Give me back the remote, Todd!" Damian attempted to climb the said teen's leg. Jason held the plastic device just out of reach of the younger's grabbing hands. Dick entered the roomwith Alfred, whom he had been previously chatting with over tea. The acrobat scooped Damian into his arms — much to the child's dismay. He plopped him onto the leather couch and swiped the remote from Jason's hands. The action was simple because the younger teen had been rolling on the floor with laughter at Damian being carried like a toddler. Dick flipped to the true crime channel and settled down next to Tim. Damian took the right side of the couch, far from Dick. Jason, who had recovered from his laughing fit, took a seat next to Dick. The destructive teen tossed his legs over Dick's haphazardly. The Cop's intro blared and things settled down in the manor. Damian and Jason enjoyed the tasing, Tim critiqued the officer's equipment, and Dick studied police procedure. Despite being a vigilante , Dick felt like he didn't do enough for the city. When he was a child, police officer was his second career choice — the primary being trapeze artist, of course. The four non-blood siblings fell asleep piled together on the couch. Later that night, Dick awoke to a clicking noise. No. It wasn't a click, it was a tap. He silently untangled himself from Jason's legs and followed the strange noise into the kitchen. Then the dining room. Just as he entered a room, the sound would stop and begin again in another room. Dick continued this mysterious game of Marco Polo until he reached the back door of the Manor, the one that lead to an extravagant garden. The tapping didn't stop this time, it intensified. The tapping became so violent that Dick feared that the window would shatter. The ebony haired teen reached for the door handle, prepared to fight whoever was outside. He leapt through the open door hands up in a fighting stance. The only sound outside was his panting and the chirp of nighttime insects hiding in the garden. Dick closed the door and decided to take a walk in the garden to ease his racing heart. The stress of senior year and lack of sleep must be getting to him. He casually strolled along the concrete paths,, occasionally stopping to enjoy the feeling of the well kept grass on his bare feet. It was cool and damp with shimmering diamonds of dew. Dick began his return to the manor when a cackle came from the bushes behind him. The acrobat whipped around, muscles tense, ready to defend himself and his family. A metal clank shook dick's ears, the source of the sound rolled slowly towards him. It was a can with a green and red smiley face painted on the side.
"Who's there?" Dick called out to the shrubbery; he approached the plant cautiously.
"Come out and fight!" He tried to lure the trespasser into the open, but it wasn't working. He steeled himself and ripped the branches of the bush aside. Much to the teen's surprise, nobody was there. Dick turned to examine the can that had rolled to his feet. He picked up the mysterious object, which let out a hiss. Before he could react, a blast of gas hit him directly in the face. Coughing and stumbling, Dick dropped the cannisstar and fell to his knees. The chloroform worked it's way into his system quickly. As the world spun and turned fuzzy, Dick watched his attacker approach his lim body. The purple suitpants and black leather shoes blurred as he slowly blacked out. A sharp cackle like the one that emitted from the bushes earlier was the last thing Dick heard before he plunged into unconsciousness.
It's been a while, lads and lassies! I decided to take a whack at a Bat Fam fic, which was originally hand written and is now being transferred to a digital format so you all can enjoy it. This one is going to get dark and bloody and oh so interesting. I hope you all enjoy! I've been taking AP Language — where we often study different writing styles— so I've really improved on my writing (like that neat lil' em dash I used there and there and there too).
Until next chapter!