Pushed, pulled. Stretched, compressed. Being tossed around like a rag doll. So… many colors. Everything was too loud. Everything was too quiet. He was floating away from his body. He was all too heavy.

Freezing. Burning.

It lasted an eternity. It lasted mere seconds.

Nothing.

His feet landed on a hard floor. His knees buckled. He was being held up.

Terry felt like he was going to vomit.

His… ears were ringing? His vision was blurry?

A muffled shout. It got louder and louder. Until something a bit more coherent was heard.

Someone was shaking him. He was still being held up.

"…ont you dare take him from me! Do you know how long it took for me to take him?! To find him?!" It… it was the kidnapper. "I will have Bruce Wayne and none of you will stop me!"

He thinks he blacked out a moment.

A rough shake jump started his brain. Disgusting bubbling within his stomach made him moan.

His vision started to clear a bit… and he… he was still at the gala?

What?

Hands holding him up. Holding him close?

Blink.

He was away from Spaceman.

Blink.

Someone was fighting Spaceman.

Blink.

His eyes rolled. They caught something…

Policemen? Costumed people tied up?

Blink.

A scared woman's face. Something familiar wriggled in his brain… she was… he knew her… what?

"Lori?" He rasped.

A shift. He was still looking at her. Her hair was not as white before… more blonde… and her dress… it was different… her wrinkles were gone… he could tell she was still Lori.

Someone spoke.

"Hey." They said again. It registered that it sounded altered. And that it was coming from whoever was holding him.

It felt hard to move his head up. It lolled if anything.

His eyes met red. Bright red. A bright red helmet?

"Who's Lori?" The distorted voice asked.

"Lori?" He repeated. "I… danced with… her…"

His voice was slurred. He felt exhausted.

He still felt like he needed to puke.

"Before… taken. Through… portal?" Everything was starting to swim again.

"Bruce!" Spaceman's voice was further away.

Was he being carried? When did that happen?

"Look different…" he mumbled as his eyes fluttered. "She look different…"

"Who?" That was a different voice.

His eyes wouldn't open.

"Lori… Bishop…"

He thinks he threw up.

He didn't hear anything after that. He didn't see anything after that.

Terry slowly came to feeling… comfortable. A little disoriented, but comfortable.

Groaning he cracked an eye open. A ceiling. A dark red ceiling.

Up ever so slowly. Sit in the very comfy bed. Look around.

The bed he was in was large. Larger than he really needed. Four or even five grown adults could sleep comfortably in it. It had grand posters that were engraved, reaching upward in its extravagants. Touching the sheets in between his fingers, he felt how incredibly smooth they were. Silk. Internally he hoped he didn't sweat at all. Silk and sweaty skin didn't really go well together. But since he didn't have to peel himself off while sitting up, he would have to assume he was in the clear.

The room he was in was dark, but not too dark. Just enough for him to know that it was bright enough outside to have lightened up the room. The, probably silken as well, curtains were closed as that had caused the room to be dark in the first place, but small slivers of daylight filtered through.

Blue eyes avoided the light. Never was it fun to get temporarily blinded by a drastic change of lighting.

There was a digital alarm clock that blared the time one thirty seven pm in bright red numbers on a nightstand next to the bed. It was odd, and old. Something that looked like it belonged to an antique store. The more he looked at it, the more it looked an awful lot like the first digital alarm clocks to be made. All bulky and made with wooden panels that were thought to actually look good.

Looking at the furniture, with its dark colors and elegant features, slow realization grew of how much it looked like a room back at Bruce's manor… one that he couldn't quite pinpoint down.

But how did he get back at the manor? Was he even at Wayne Manor?

He was at the gala last night when… when…

Like a train hitting him, Terry remembered about the kidnapper. The fucking Spaceman.

Scrambling out of bed, he ran right towards the door. He needed to make sure…

Ripping it open he was met with Wayne Manor's hallway.

Why was he in the manor? He was kidnapped… and then… and then…

Someone with a red helmet saved him?

There were a few options. Either the red helmeted person was a new vigilante that decided to do a big entrance since Batman wasn't there, a vigilante from another place that he haven't heard of and happened to be in Gotham, or maybe someone from Bruce's past.

Terry wouldn't be too surprised if it was the last option.

Although it would've been nice if the Red Helmet dropped him off at his house. Or maybe a hospital.

Taking a glance down to one of his scars peeking out of his sleeve made him reconsider those thoughts. Didn't need to have his mom freak out over it.

Wait a second.

"These aren't my pajamas." Terry mumbled in confusion.

Red and black plaid pants, and a super faded band T-shirt. Taking a closer look with squinted eyes, he tried to figure the band out.

"The… Eagles?" He muttered. He knew for a fact he didn't own that shirt. He doubted that it belonged to Bruce back in his younger years. Very highly in fact. Maybe it was DG's?

He shook his head. Something odd was going on. And he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Softly the door closed. Quietly his feet padded across the wooden floor. He had to find Bruce.

As he walked, however, he began to notice more… odd things. Some paintings have been covered up when they shouldn't be and vice versa. And there were obvious places where paintings were taken down entirely. Not to mention the same was said for the furniture.

It wasn't as dusty as it should be. Sure Terry has been helping Bruce clean the place, but it was a big building. Dust likes to linger.

And then he heard it. Voices. They were coming from the living room that was used the most. After all, it was always convenient to use that one from the others. It was cozy. It had a fireplace.

It had the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Very faintly he heard words.

"-what if this is permanent?"

"It's not. It isn't. We… We'll find a way."

"He'll be back to normal as soon as we…"

Slowly Terry crept closer. Unfortunately for him, he had stepped on what could have been the loudest squeaky floorboard to have ever existed.

The voices stopped abruptly.

Lord just kill him now.

Well, time to face the music.

Stepping out of the hallway, and into the room, Terry was greeted-

With a family?

There was an old man wearing an old fashioned suit a butler would wear. A thin man he was, with a balding head, and a mustache that was as gray as the hair left on his head. His eyes were… old if that were a thing. It definitely looked kind, and the shade of blue reminded Terry of the ocean during summer. He was standing attentively by the big chair that Bruce would normally sit in. His hands we behind his back and everything.

The tallest of the bunch was another man, but he was probably only a few years older than Terry himself. That one was standing by the fireplace with his arms crossed. In fact, the fire that, for some odd reason, was lit, managed to make his eyes look like they could be teal. It certainly helped bring out the brown undertones of his messy black hair out. Actually it looked a lot like Terry's hair did whenever he was running his hands through it about a hundred times out of stress.

(Terry would admit to being a little envious when he saw the man wearing a leather jacket in great condition. Ah leather. A punk kid's best friend. Pleather just doesn't cut it in a fight.)

Another man, who was sitting in one of the couches, looked to be probably somewhere in his late twenties. Terry mentality snorted at catching sight of the Superman t-shirt he was wearing. He looked more tan than… his brother? Yeah, his brother, and his own eyes were a surprisingly bright shade of blue. His hair was a messy black as well.

The only girl was sitting next to him. She looked to be of Asian descent, and her eyes were a rich brown, not unlike his own girlfriend's eyes. Her own black hair was cut into a short bob. She looked like she just came back from a workout, towel around her neck and all.

(Terry wouldn't be surprised if either all the siblings were half siblings or just flat out adopted.)

Standing behind the two was a teen possibly a little younger than Terry. He was very pale, with paler blue eyes that nearly looked gray. He, too, has black hair. It was apparently quite the family trait. And he was wearing… Actually he was wearing what possibly looked like the most comfortable hoodie sweatshirt. Terry got a little envious. Where could he get a hoodie like that? He and Dana could just snuggle in those sweatshirts and wouldn't need a blanket.

Wait no he had to stop fantasizing about the hoodies. But he'll ask about them another time.

And there, sitting on the rug with Ace was… Matt?

Eye wide with shock, Terry nearly stumbled backwards at the sight, but held himself. Green eyes locked onto blue.

Wait.

Green?

Taking a closer look, Terry realized that no, this boy was not in fact his little brother. His hair was shorter, his skin was darker, darker than the man with the tan, and his eyes were green.

A familiar green that Terry just couldn't place. Just where in the world has he seen such similar eyes?

And the dog. Terry just took a quick glance and he knew that the dog wasn't Ace. He didn't have that slightest hint of gray on his muzzle.

(Neither Bruce nor Terry actually knew how old Ace was. And Terry wasn't sure if dogs could go gray early due to stress. Ace certainly had plenty of stress in his life, that's for sure.)

Who were these people? Where was Bruce? Where was Ace?

Settling back on the youngest, he saw a fearsome scowl that could rival the old man's when he was in the worst of moods. Someone was clearly not having a good time.

Well, neither was Terry.

"What?" The child barked. With a slightly British accent? Huh. Unexpected, but okay.

Blinking rapidly, Terry came back to himself. Right. Random people in the manor.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head a little, putting a hand up to its side, "look, I don't want to be rude or anything, but who are all of you, and why are you here."

He totally didn't miss how everyone in the room tensed up for a moment.

"Well," the man wearing the Superman shirt started, "how much do you remember?"

He then winced after he finished that sentence. And then got smacked on the head by his younger brother.

And Terry? He crossed his arms and sent the man an unimpressed look.

The man winced again.

Now, internally Terry preened at that. He was practicing Bruce's look. That man could make you feel ashamed for just about anything.

"You're going to have to be more specific." Terry said, voice as dry as a desert.

Again, the man flinched.

"What he means," a voice piped up, "is what do you remember from last night?"

It was the man by the fireplace. His face was blank. He was staring right at Terry. Searching. For what, Terry didn't know. But for a moment, the teen felt like he was back on the streets with Charlie. Sizing an opponent up, seeing if Terry would win.

Terry could play the long game.

"I was at a gala last night," he began, slowly, "when Lori Bishop came up to me and asked for a dance. We danced. Then, as I was heading back to where I was before, some… guy wearing a fake spacesuit and what was apparently a real gun, kidnapped me."

He then shook his head. "It was weird, he shot it and… I don't really know how to describe it other than… well, than a portal. And he dragged me… through it."

Memories of being inside… whatever it was rolled over him. Just thinking about it made him feel nauseous. Maybe that was why the guy's helmet was tinted.

"God it was so strange. It… I don't think I could describe it." The more he thought about it, the more sick he felt. The way the colors were, the sensation of movement.

He didn't know he was swaying until someone grabbed a hold of him. He didn't know his eyes were closed until he opened them to see the man from the couch was the one holding him. It took another second to realize that he began sweating.

Ew.

Well, at least he now knew that the Superman fan was a little taller than he was.

"Come on," the man said, "let's sit down."

Not arguing, Terry let himself be led to Bruce's big chair.

The chair itself was a very nice chair. It looked soft, comfortable… expensive. Terry never actually sat in it, but he would watch how his boss would sink into it. Would it be surprising if the chair was good for those old bones? Not really.

It certainly felt very soft and comfortable as he was being set down.

In fact, Terry felt like he was going to be swallowed by it if he wasn't careful.

So he was careful in his endeavor not to be sucked into the chair as he let himself stabilize. He should just forget about the whole portal portion of his night. He just might vomit if he won't stop.

Actually no. He would vomit. No 'might' about it.

As he sat there, Terry began his breathing exercises. Bruce had taught him it back during those first few months as Batman in order to 'help him think clearly.' It was totally a ploy to try to keep his anger in check, but Terry managed to find it useful for whenever he got sick to his stomach. Or, well, when he just felt nauseous as hell.

A few moments later, he was starting to feel better. And he was well aware of the fact that everyone was staring at him.

"I'm fine." He croaked, voice betraying him. God damn it.

Someone snorted. He didn't know who it was. But with a quick glance, he saw that the hoodie kid was glaring at the man over by the fireplace.

Superman fan shook his head, and stood attentively at the side of the chair. He then turned his attention back to Terry and asked, "what happened after that? When you got out of the portal?"

It was nice to know that he was somewhat believed in.

Terry shrugged. "Hard to say. I think I was on the verge of blacking out the whole time until I actually did." He then put his hand to his head, rubbing his temples. "I think we didn't actually go anywhere? We were still at the gala, so maybe that portal was some sort of trick to disorientate me? It worked if that's the case. But I think the police was there, and my kidnapper even said not to call the police."

He heavily sighed. "I don't know if what I saw was actually real or not. I mean, I sure would've known if anyone was wearing costumes to last night's gala. Well, anyone invited anyways."

Shaking his head, he tried to remember what happened after that. "I think someone managed to get me away? I think I saw Lori again, but I'm not even sure it was her. And I think I might've thrown up on someone wearing a red helmet."

Soft clanking reached his ears. A cup full of tea was put in front of him.

Blinking, Terry looked up to see who had offered him the cup.

It was the old man. A kind smile was on his face, as something that looked like grief crossed for a mere second.

For a moment Terry wanted to take the cup. But then he remembered that he didn't know this man, and the fact that no one was telling him anything.

But still, Terry smiled and shook his head. "Thanks for offering, but no thank you."

It was clear that the man was hiding his disappointment. Unfortunately for him Terry could be very stubborn.

Thankfully the man nodded and didn't push it. Terry watched as he set the cup down with the rest of the tea set on the table next to the chair.

No one else got up to take a cup.

"You sure that's all you remember?" It was the teen.

"Unless I remember something later, yes that's pretty much it. Why? Did I black out and did some crazy things?" He asked that last part sarcastically.

Quickly, the Superman fan shook his head, waving his arms around. "Nope! We just want to make sure since you were pretty out of it last night, and slept through the whole morning!"

Terry just stared at him with half lidded eyes. Yeah okay. Totally not suspicious at all.

Rolling his eyes, Terry crossed his legs. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair and he held his head on his hand. "Okay, cool, I answered your question. Now will you answer mine?"

He stared down the man in front of him, looking at him like Mr. Wayne does to a particularly irritating business man. When he spoke, he made his voice cold and hard. "Who are you and why are you all in the manor?"

A flicker of sadness crossed the man's face.

Why was he sad?

Suspicious indeed.

"We-" the man started only to get stopped by the man in the leather jacket.

"We're new employees. And a package deal." He said.

Oh that was a lie if Terry ever heard one.

Laughter began to bubble up deep within the teen. He let it out as small chuckles. He let it evolve to a full on, head thrown back, laughter. Shoulders were bouncing, his stomach was hurting. A few tears even developed. Wiping his eyes, Terry stood up.

He stared the man down. He walked up to the man. The man stared at him, looking a little disturbed. Only a little. But it was enough for Terry.

They knew who the bigger one was. But it was obviously Terry who held the room. And he gave the man a shark sharp grin. One that even the old man would approve of.

"Ya know, I think it's rather insulting for how dumb you think I am. I would know if we got any new employees. And well? You're certainly not a new employee."

His arm shot out to take a hold of the man's shirt. Quickly, he yanked the man down to his level. Rage twisted Terry's face.

"Who the hell are you really?" He growled.

The man just put his hand on Terry's. "Name's Jason." He said. His breath faintly smelt of cigarettes. Gross. "We're actually tasked with watching you to make sure you're okay. And you know, make sure you don't get kidnapped again."

A single eyebrow rose. "Is that so?" Terry asked.

The man, Jason, grinned. All teeth. "Yep." He popped the 'p' as he slowly took Terry's hand off of his shirt and stood back up. "You were just knocked out when the Commissioner asked us to do it. We just brought the squirt and his dog because he was being a brat."

Terry let his hand fall to his side and… Terry thought about it. It does sound very plausible. It would explain how he couldn't find Bruce… so far. For that last bit, Terry could help but think of Matt and if they ever got a dog. He would probably do something similar. After all, how many chances could you get to live in a manor?

But…

"First of all, why you." Terry poked sharply at Jason's chest. "Second of all, is it actually wise to bring your kid brother to a place where you're supposed to be 'protecting' somebody?"

Jason shrugged. "Classified information."

The teen's eyebrow twitched. "You know, that doesn't really help your case." He drawled.

Again the man shrugged. "As for the kid, we don't really trust him with anyone. Lord knows that demon brat's going to maim someone the second we leave him alone."

He could hear the kid scoff behind him and another person mumble the words 'that's an understatement.' Turning behind him to look at who said that, he saw how the child and the hoodie wearing teen were glaring at each other.

Great. Terry is in vincisity of a murderous child. How fun.

Not.

So. Odds are they're probably telling the truth, but they're hiding something. All of this was fishy as hell after all.

A heavy sigh escaped. "Fine!" He threw his arms up in exasperation. "You can stay here, but you leave the moment that Spaceman gets put in prison."

"Spaceman?" Jason asked.

Terry sent him an unimpressed look. "Dunno his name. Looks like some retro spaceman. So. Spaceman." He then squinted at the man. "You wouldn't happen to know who he is would you?"

A rather ungraceful snort was what he was met with. "Hell no. If we'd know who he was we would probably be out there kicking his ass."

If Terry didn't agree with that statement…

"Besides," Jason continued, "I'm sure Red Hood would find him sooner or later anyways."

Red Hood? Tilting his head in curiosity he asked, "who's Red Hood?"

"The guy with the red helmet that saved you."

What. Terry blinked rapidly. "Wait. Are you telling me that he's called Red Hood? Like Little Red Riding Hood?"

Someone snickered in the background.

"Uh, yeah." Jason said. The 'duh' was highly implied. "And no not like Little Red Riding Hood."

"But he wears a helmet? Not a hood?" Terry asked incredulously. "Who would name themselves Hood when they don't even wear one? And how do you know it's not Red Riding Hood."

At this Jason sputtered. "B-because it's not! That man is a crime lord and has chopped drug dealers heads off!"

Some sort of strangled noise tore its way out of Terry's mouth. "I was saved by a crime lord?!" He shouted, voice high pitched and cracking.

Suddenly, a hand clapped down onto Terry's shoulder. Whirling around, he saw that it was the Superman fan.

"Sorry!" He yelped, pulling his hands up in the surrender gesture. "But uh, I really don't think now's the time to talk about ex crime lords." The man stressed the 'ex' portion while glancing over to Jason.

"Lunch time." The girl suddenly piped up.

On cue, Terry's stomach growled. Loudly.

"Come on let's go." The eldest brother began to drag Terry away.

He let himself be dragged.

A crime lord though? REALLY?

He really needs to talk to Bruce.