Alternative title: Gray "I couldn't have just gone home with Bruce immediately because I wanted 15.000 more words of world-building" Son.
For extra feels, listen to "Hold On Just a Little While Longer - Detroit become human", "Unsteady - X Ambassadors" and "Coming home part II - Skylar Grey" while reading. That was basically my writing music for the past months.
Warnings for allusions to vomiting and child abuse. Canon-typical violence and all that Jazz.
AND A HUGE THANKS TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS GraceEliz and Scottishwaitress!
Gotham was a city that slowly devoured you, one thought at a time, and made you a piece of herself, while also becoming a part of you at the same time. You couldn't grow up in Gotham without gaining a subconscious understanding of how the city worked. The level of understanding depended on the person, of course. Someone from Little Italy might know all the interesting and unique little shops that were a one in a million kind of attraction while someone from the Diamond district could tell you where all the important and influential people of Gotham lived and someone born in the Narrows could point you to every gang in range.
Bruce had tried to collect as much information about Gotham as a whole as possible. Many of the Narrows' criminals were just henchmen for bigger fish like the corrupt politicians drinking expensive wine half across town. If he wanted to catch them, he needed to know Gotham better than everyone. Thus Bruce had watched and learned all about the sewers where gangs and homeless people resided, the rooftops where thieves and runners disappeared to as well as the brightly lit streets the rich walked and the little stores extraordinary people disappeared to.
None of that knowledge helped him now. The sewers of Gotham were one thing, the catacombs beneath them another. For one, they were older and ran much deeper. Nobody hid down there, because nobody ever returned. It already took some skill to navigate the sewers properly, but the catacombs were supposed to be a maze of an even worse caliber.
Batman had walked through the sewers for an hour before he found an accessible entrance to the catacombs. Many of them had been sealed off over the years, for what reason he didn't know, or just couldn't be opened due to rust or other time-related reason.
The entrance Batman used was high up north, under Crest Hill if he were to guess. The door was a curious thing, really. In a place like this, nobody would expect a thick metal door, fitting of a bunker, yet here it stood right in front of him, keeping him away from Richard. The owl scratched roughly into the metal looked like it was taunting him, but otherwise, this part of the sewers didn't seem all that remarkable. It was just as dirty and gritty as one would expect when shown the pictures of gutters.
But to someone who has walked through the dirty waters for some time, it was evident that this place was just a bit too clean, a bit too frequently occupied. Gangs would have sprayed this place, boldly declaring this their territory. This wasn't the case here. Somebody was actively trying to make sure nobody would go investigating here, trying to downplay the significance of this place.
Too bad they had managed to anger the Bat to the point where he didn't particularly care if he was kicking down the front door to the catacombs.
Batman pulled at the bolt of the door, and with a screeching tone, it opened. Time to face the music.
X
The catacombs didn't just look old, they also smelled possibly ancient like decay and foul. Yet they were surprisingly clean and light with the stone used to build them being white marble that had grayed only a bit over time. It must have been pure white when all of this was built. The further he walked, the lighter did the walls become as well. He tried to stick to the paths that looked like they were the most frequently used, though most of the time he was guessing. Given the directions he had taken, he must be beneath the Bowery or Robbinsville right now, but he could be wandering meters beneath Otisburg as well and he wouldn't be able to tell. The only markers this place had were the ones he left behind at every crossing. He carved tiny Bs into the walls so that he would know which way he had walked on his way back, or if he should run into a dead end.
He hadn't encountered a single one yet. Only ever more paths to take.
X
He didn't take any breaks, he just kept marching on, biting into one of his pocketed granola bars after a few hours so that he could keep going. He wasn't hungry, the stress and the adrenaline kept him wide awake and unaware of his needs, but he knew that sooner or later he would crash and that was something he couldn't afford right now. Richard was depending on him, Bruce had promised him a home.
He had to keep going.
X
The next time he looked at his watch, it had already been 11.00 p.m. for at least two hours going by his internal clock. A few seconds of observing his watch's second hand told him that it was broken. Maybe the battery had run out or the water damage from before had finally gotten to it. Either way, Batman was now also exploring this maze without any way to measure the time.
Selina would definitely kill him when he and Richard got home after she arrived in Gotham. Then again, he had never given himself a deadline for his search.
X
He was starting to lose his concentration and his arms felt like lead. Maybe he should take a break. Just sit down for one moment to catch his breath, rethink his approach, and get rid of the hallucinations of moving shadows. He wasn't seven and afraid of the dark anymore. There was nothing supernatural about this place, nothing to be scared of. At the end of the paths lay Richard and some conspiracy murder cult.
He sat down and closed his eyes.
Just one moment of rest.
X
When he woke up again, he felt refreshed. Not good by all means, but better. The shadows had stopped moving, thankfully, and he felt a little less like falling over on the spot. According to his internal clock, it was midday. Selina would arrive in Gotham in twenty-four hours. Hopefully, she wouldn't follow him down here.
After all, somebody had to feed the cats.
X
He was very grateful he had started carrying around snacks for Richard. Sure, Bruce could carry on without food for much longer, but he doubted he'd be in a good enough shape to get Richard home by the time he reached him without any meals until then. He just hoped Richard was fed at least something down here; otherwise, their escape from here would be much harsher than Bruce had anticipated.
Not that he had done a lot of planning before storming the castle; neither about how to find Richard or how to get out again nor about what do with Richard afterward.
Chances were that whoever took him, wanted him for a specific purpose that needed him alive. It certainly didn't mean he'd be healthy, but right now Bruce could work with alive. Malnourishment could be treated, broken bones would heal, and everything beyond that they'd figure out as well.
Right now, though, Bruce would do anything for a warm meal and some water. He still had a bit to drink, but it was barely enough to last him through the day, and his food rations were getting short as well. Bruce thought he had packed more, but he had been in such a rush to go chase after Richard, he had probably forgotten. It was a dumb mistake. He just hoped he wouldn't feel the repercussions too harshly.
X
Bruce woke up to a pounding headache and a stiff neck, the latter originating from his uncomfortable sleeping position. Lying down in the batsuit really hadn't been a great idea. Groaning, Bruce got up and stretched. Then he moved forward. He had yet to find a sign of anything at all.
X
There was a fountain in front of him. It was made out of the same marble as the walls, bright and grand and kept in good shape.
Bruce thought he was hallucinating. What the hell was a perfectly functioning fountain doing right in front of him? It didn't make sense. Perhaps he was still sleeping and dreaming.
However, dream or not, he hadn't had something to drink in a while, and his throat was dry, whether from the lack of speaking or drinking he couldn't tell.
He forced himself over to the crystal clear water and took off his gloves to dip his hands in the cool wet. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that he shouldn't just drink out of some miraculous water fountain found in a shady place like this. His thirst decided that he didn't care, he'd be no use to Richard if he dropped her from exhaustion in some dumb refusal to drink. The first mouthful felt like ice, cold, and burning his throat on the way down. The next one was better.
The water stirred where he touched it, creating small waves. He hadn't dared to take off his cowl so far, but so far he also hadn't really seen anyone. With a relieved sigh, he pulled off his mask and ran his fingers through his hair. It was greasy and gross, and his face looked terrible. His reflection in the water showed him a tired man with hollow cheeks and bags under his eyes. He looked at least a decade older than he actually was, but what really caught his attention was the dark shadow above him.
Then nothing.
X
Bruce woke up to harsh light and the sound of a thousand voices screaming at him. When he tried to shield his eyes with his hands, he noticed that he couldn't lift them far from the ground. Thick, silver chains locked him down to a white and black checkered floor. Groaning, he tried to recall how he had gotten here.
The last thing he could remember in clarity was drinking out of that fountain and then looking at a shadow- no, a person. It had been a masked person. He should have known that it had been a trap, how could he have been so stupid?
Slowly he lifted his head to look at his surroundings. The hall was illuminated by giant chandeliers, casting not a single shadow. To Bruce's right stood a figure, female he guessed, though the armor they were wearing made it hard to tell. They were clad entirely in black with bronze colored highlights and their head was covered by a strange mask imitating an owl.
This was the person who had attacked him, Bruce was sure.
They stood unnaturally still like a statue, moving not a single muscle, and they didn't even look at him. Their attention seemed focused solely on their spectators. Those sat high up in rows on red cushions, drinking expensive alcohol, laughing and screeching like they were waiting for the theatre play below to start.
Men and women, all hidden behind white owl masks.
So this was the Court of Owls.
Suddenly, the noise quelled down, and only whispers ran through the room until even they silenced. They all turned their heads into the direction of a man standing up at a podium. He was dressed in a suit whiter than any shirt Bruce had ever owned and, above that he wore a dark ceremonial cloak. If not for that, you wouldn't have been able to pick him out of the crowd of masked figures. By the way the others reacted, Bruce concluded that he must be the leader, or at least very high up the command chain.
"Today," the man began to speak, "is the beginning of our rising. For too long have we been leading this city from behind the curtains of passivity, allowing others such as the Bat to make himself at home in the shadows. This will end now. He will be eliminated, this vigilante uprising quelled at its roots, and from it, our Gray Son will rise to shape this city as it was meant to be!"
Thunderous applause followed the man's words. Every man and every woman joined in the celebration, praising the exclamations like devoted followers might react to the orders of their god.
Bruce tugged at his chains. He didn't know how to get out of them and he sincerely doubted he would leave this room alive and whole. This cult of the rich and insane sounded very much in favor of killing him for messing with their schemes, whatever those were. Most likely something along the lines of the elimination of the Narrows, Park Row, the Bowery and every other part of the city they didn't prefer. There had been many attempts in the past to just bulldoze those districts, none of them very effective due to the sheer amount of people living in those dark parts.
"Any last words?"
It took Bruce a few seconds to realize the leader was dressing him. His mouth was dry, he didn't know whether he'd be able to get out a single word.
"Where is Richard?" Bruce whispered.
"Where the Gray Son is supposed to be. Bat of Gotham, the Court of Owls sentences you to death. Kill him."
The masked shadow that had attacked him before made their first move. From out of nowhere, or so it seemed, they pulled a thin and black knife with a decorated hilt.
Like a machine, they approached him, a steady grip on their weapon.
He was going to die.
Bruce tore at his chains energetically, trying hopelessly to break free. He couldn't just go down with a fight. He had clawed his way out of a dirty alley, that couldn't have been for nothing!
The blade was seconds away from Bruce's neck when-
"Grandmaster."
One of the men suddenly spoke up and the Court's leader motioned for Bruce's attacker to stop.
Their blade was still at Bruce's neck. One move and he'd be done for. He'd die down here without ever truly having accomplished anything at all. If he could just lift his hands, do something to defend himself, he could maybe find a way out. Try to find the fountain again and then the marks he had left behind.
"Speak," the Grandmaster ordered.
"He is young still, and talented. He has much more value to us if he stays alive."
"We don't need an usurper like him. We already have the Gray Son, he will be the next great Talon like his great-grandfather before him."
A murmur hushed through the ranks. The men and women started whispering amongst themselves. Not loud enough to be considered rude or interrupting to the important conversation happening in the front row, but still loud enough to point out that they wanted their opinion known.
"Still," the first speaker insisted. "Another asset might be helpful when training the Gray Son. He listened to the Bat before. If he sees him fight for us, he will follow him. I would personally oversee their training."
The mask hid any expression the Grandmaster could have made, and Bruce found himself hoping he wouldn't die on this floor without anybody knowing. Years ago he had celebrated every birthday with a silent surprised 'look, I'm still here, Mamma', working earnestly to make it to the next year.
He couldn't die here, not when he had made it so far already.
"He is a fighter," the Grandmaster finally said. "You have two months to get me results. If the Gray Son doesn't improve from this, the Bat is to be removed."
X
Bruce got stuck into a small cell. They stripped him off his uniform and left him in the tiny space in nothing more than his underwear. It was cold but not as chilly as it should be. Probably a benefit of this place having to house a bunch of rich snobs for their secret murder cult meetings. Room temperature catacombs and cells so they could comfortably watch the executions of whoever pissed them off in their most elegant clothes. Or at least Bruce thought that he was still underground in the catacombs. He had no way of telling how much time had passed since he had been knocked out at the fountain or how far away from it he was. Maybe he was actually in a building topside?
He couldn't imagine a bunch of those well-off people disappearing beneath Gotham, but he also hadn't known about a mysterious cult existing in the first place, so maybe Bruce's information on Gotham wasn't as dense as he had thought.
The assassin who carried him into the cell hadn't revealed anything either. In fact, they hadn't made a sound at all. The man who had insisted on him being kept alive for training hadn't said a word either. He had accompanied them to the cell, taken one more look at Bruce, unmasked and defenseless against his attackers, then turned around to leave even before the assassin disappeared.
X
Bruce didn't dare to fall asleep again when he was surrounded by enemies with no idea where exactly he was and how much time had passed since he had disappeared beneath Gotham. He hoped Selina hadn't come after him. The chances that she would find him and get out here alive were non-existent. Either Bruce would manage to save Richard and himself on his own, or they'd both die here – that was if Richard was still here.
The Court hadn't said his name, but they had spoken of a gray son, and the leap from gray son to Grayson wasn't that big.
After a couple hours, or so Bruce guessed, the masked man who had advocated for his prolonged life returned. He was wearing a different expensive suit this time, and his graying dark hair was slicked back. The owl mask hid his face, and if not for the slight tremor in his hands, Bruce wouldn't have been able to tell him apart from all the other wealthy cultists. Hours ago, he hadn't been able to pay proper attention to it, but he had taken notice of the shaking. Perhaps the shaking stemmed from a little too much alcohol every day or was caused by shock or an old injury. Bruce had seen all three working in his clinic. Either way, it was most certainly a weakness Bruce carefully cataloged for the future.
"I hope you are well-rested," the man said.
Bruce frowned and eyes him skeptically. He doubted the man returned here for small talk.
"What do you want from me?"
"Loyalty, strength, and training first and foremost. You will ensure the Gray Son cooperates with us in the future and help raise him to new heights. Now get up, we have work to do. Two months aren't exactly enough time to achieve the progress that has been asked of me and trust me when I say that I do not want to disappoint the Grandmaster."
The man pulled something from his suit's pocket, a small and shiny object. Bruce was only able to tell that it was a key when he moved closer to the cell. The Owl wanted to open the cell, Bruce realized.
"I suggest you play along if you want to see the Gray Son again. You can, of course, kill me right here and now, though murder isn't really your usual approach, is it? Nevertheless, it doesn't matter. Leaving the underground without me will be impossible."
"Why should I believe you?"
"I'm many things," the Owl's tone was downright patronizing. It made Bruce feel like a helpless child all over again. "Many things, Bat, but I'm not a liar."
Bruce scoffed. "Then what do you call hiding behind a mask?"
"Self-preservation. I believe you're familiar with it. Now, do you want to see Richard again or not?"
Bruce weighed his options if his slim chance of survival could be called one. The man opened the door to his cell and waited for Bruce's reaction. Slowly he stood up but made no move against the man.
"I knew you'd decided wisely."
The man walked out of the room, and Bruce followed him without a fight.
X
The pathways of the catacombs were only sparsely illuminated, but that didn't seem to bother Bruce's warden at all. It would be so easy to knock him out and hide his body in some dark corner, but that wouldn't help Bruce, and especially not Richard, either.
After a while, the sound of fighting reached Bruce's ears. He could hear someone scream; light, pained, and familiar.
"Robin!"
Bruce immediately broke away from the man. He didn't look back to see whether the Owl cared that he was running off, he had more important things to focus on, such as finding the origin of these cries. He had made it this far, he couldn't be too late now. He had to reach Robin in time, make sure he was okay.
He took a sharp turn at the next corner, reaching a bare corridor ending in a metal lattice gate, separating the path from an arena. The tiled floor of the arena was bloody. A multitude of throwing knives lay on the ground and in the center of it all stood the assassin who had nearly killed Bruce. Below them, cowering on all fours, was Robin.
For a split second, all Bruce could see were Robin's injuries, the blood, and the unmoving body, so very similar to his mother's body bleeding out on the ground.
Then he noticed the rise and fall of Robin's chest.
He was still alive. Still breathing.
"Get up," Bruce whispered. "Get up, get up!"
He shook at the gate, but it didn't budge, not even an inch.
"Leave him alone! Robin, get up and move! You have to get away! Robin!"
Robin turned his head, only so slightly to look at Bruce. His eyes widened. Bruce could see his lips move, then he crashed to the ground, unmoving.
"Robin!"
It didn't matter what he did, he couldn't push past the gate no matter how much force he put behind his shoves. He was barely ten meters away from Robin. If he could just move forward, if he could just reach him-
"You shouldn't run off here. You could get lost."
Bruce turned around and came face to face with the Owl again. He leaned a bit to the right to look past Bruce into the arena, to look at Robin, still lying on the floor.
"We're late it seems. Training is already over."
"Training!?" Bruce echoed. "You're not training him, you're beating him up! This is torture!"
Anger welled up in Bruce. Hot and scalding, dictating his every action. He rushed forward and the next second his hands were at the man's collar, pushing him up against the wall.
"Let him go. Now."
The man didn't react physically.
"And who will take his place then? You?"
Staring into a black void where there should be eyes was deeply unsettling. Bruce couldn't get a read of the man. Wealthy, flawed, in-control, but so nonchalant about his own life. He sounded almost amused at Bruce's terror, like all of this was just a game.
Like a child wasn't bleeding out on the floor just a few steps away from them.
"Someone has to be fighting there tomorrow, and we don't have too many options."
He was waiting for a reply, for Bruce to agree to play along with whatever charade he was setting up here.
"Fine," Bruce hissed. "I'll do it. But Robin- Richard gets to rest. Somewhere I can see him."
The Owl let out a dry laugh. "You're not really in a position to be making demands, Bat. But alright, I did keep you here to help with the little bird's spirits, and he really isn't in a condition to train for the next few days. Let's see if that will change when the Talon's done with you."
They opened the gate and let Bruce inside. He ran to Robin's side and pulled the child into his arms. Quickly he began to check over Robin's injuries. None of them were fatal, but there were a lot of them. He needed medical attention as soon as possible. When Bruce looked behind himself, the gate was already closed again, locking him inside together with the assassin. The Owl was also nowhere to be seen.
"He needs to get treated," Bruce told the assassin, but they didn't seem to care.
Instead, they stared up at the stands, waiting.
"Can you understand me?" Bruce tried again. "Parli italiano? Español? Hànyŭ?"
Still, they didn't react and Bruce cursed. He didn't have anything here to fix Robin's injuries properly, but if nobody else was going to do anything, he had to make do. Wouldn't be the first time and hopefully also not the last.
The bronze armor they had put Robin in was sturdy enough to work as casts. If he bandaged the arm guards properly, it should hold his arm steadily enough. He'd have to wrap the more heavily bleeding cuts, and with luck, nothing would get infected.
"Are you ready for training, Bat?"
Bruce looked up to the stands where the man was sitting now. So that was where he had disappeared to. No wonder the assassin had been staring up there so intensely.
"Richard needs to get treated," Bruce said.
The man nodded. "He will after you're finished. Try not to faint too fast, alright?"
That was the only warning Bruce got before the assassin attacked him.
X
Bruce had thought that he was a capable fighter. Not trained, no martial artist or a professional of any kind, but he'd been able to deal with everything Gotham threw at him until now. The assassin quickly proved that Bruce was everything but skilled. He stumbled over his own feet, trying to avoid the attacks. None of his punches ever hit their intended target, and every attempt to pick up one of the knives was put to an end before he could even touch a blade.
"That's enough, Talon," the Owl said. "Finish him."
And once again he was thrown into darkness.
X
This time he woke up with a start. Awareness cut into him like a knife and Bruce immediately raised his arms, ready to defend himself and hyperaware of his surroundings. The movement, however, was much too fast for his sore muscles and bruised side. Everything was hurting and Bruce wished he had a couple painkillers on hand to do something against his headache. At least his other wounds had been bandaged, and he wasn't stuck in his cell anymore. Instead, he found himself in a proper room. Checkered tile floor, white walls, toilet and one big curtain shutting off half of the room. Curious of what laid behind, Bruce got up from the mattress he was sitting on. He winced as he got up, but didn't let that stop him from moving forward. Carefully he pushed the curtain aside, revealing another bed, an IV stand and Richard's sleeping form.
Relief washed over Bruce. The Owl had kept his word, Richard was here, and his wounds had been treated. Bruce sat down on the mattress as carefully as he could and ran his fingers through Richard's hair.
There was hope for them yet.
He held onto that thought even when the Owl returned hours later to take Bruce to the arena again.
X
Richard slept on for the next days. Whether he woke when Bruce was out, he didn't know. Sometimes, Richard was conscious for a short while, but those moments of wakefulness were accompanied by incoherence. He didn't seem to recognize Bruce then or even just remember where he was. But at least he wasn't forced to fight, or train as the Owl called it. Richard was in no shape to do anything exhausting at all, much less endure the harsh beat down that had gotten him in the sickbed in the first place.
Bruce honestly wasn't sure how much longer he could stand up to the assassin, the Owl's Talon, until he was put out of commission for a longer period of time as well.
The Talon fought to kill. Every hit was possibly lethal, Bruce was only still alive because the Talon had been ordered to hold back.
"Not yet," the Owl had said. "We haven't been able to utilize him yet."
Bruce honestly didn't want to know what that would look like, but he doubted he had much choice in that either.
X
Dick woke up to the all too familiar bitter taste of poison on his tongue. Ever since he had been brought here, the taste of anesthesia had accompanied him. He hated how it had become a part of him, as much as the numbness of his limbs. Dick was used to being in full control of his body. His parents had taught him from an early age on how to feel and use his muscles so that someday he'd become an acrobat as great as them. Their craft was a dangerous one, lethal even as the last months had shown him. This disattachment to his body made Dick uncomfortable in his skin. He didn't know what the masked people did to him when he was unconscious, but he was sure that it was their fault that he was cold all the time and couldn't feel the wounds he saw when he unwrapped his ever healing injuries.
He hated staring at the bleeding wounds and not feeling anything. It scared him. He was supposed to be hurting and in pain. Sore muscles were something Dick was used to, minor injuries as well. He'd always tried to follow his parents faster than he was supposed to and, as a consequence, had once suffered a sprained ankle and a torn muscle. It had taken ages for those to heal.
Down here, a cut seemed to heal within hours.
Every day he was forced to fight again and again and again, and the battles only ever stopped once he blacked out. The man in the white mask said it was for a magnificent purpose, that he was preparing him for the future and training him to do what he has been born for.
Dick had been born to fly, to amaze and entertain, and maybe to fight crime with Batman, but not for whatever the masked one imagined him doing.
He had never missed home more than now. He wished had had just gone with Batman, with Bruce, immediately when the man had asked him. Then he'd have never been adopted by that stupid family and taken away. Instead, maybe he'd be curled up next to Batman. Dick didn't even care if Batman lived in the sewers. Everything was better than this.
If he kept his eyes closed a little while longer, Dick reasoned, he could keep on pretending that he was hiding beneath his parents' blanket in their trailer, or wrapped up in Batman's cape on a stakeout.
Unfortunately, somebody chose right that moment to reach for Dick's shoulder. His breath hitched and he could hear the blood rushing through his ears.
Please, he begged. Please don't make me go again.
He didn't dare move, not even a bit, as to avoid alarming whoever was checking up on him this time. Silently, he started to count. One, two, three… Dick kept going, yet the hand on his shoulder didn't move away, nor did anything else happen.
He risked alerting them should he move. On the other hand, if they wanted something from him they usually just took it. He hadn't been able to sleep in since he got here, fear and the weird schedule the masked one seemed to be working on prevented it.
Alright, he could do this. He was a Flying Grayson, he was Robin. He was magic, and he was brave and most importantly, he was sneaky. Slowly, only ever moving a few centimeters at once, Dick pulled the blanket off his head. He had to be extra careful because of the tube sticking out of his hand, but he managed to pull off the sheet and peak at the person.
A man was sitting at Dick's bedside, clad in the same black outfit the masked one had given Dick. He was sleeping in the chair, with his upper body sort of lying on Dick's mattress. He didn't look like a Talon. The golden garnishments were missing from the dark uniform and his visible veins weren't dark. But he certainly wasn't a masked one either. For one, he was missing the mask and his face was one Dick knew.
It was just Batman, resting there like this was exactly the place he was meant to be.
Oh, alright.
Dick sat up and looked around, trying to see if he could spot whatever fluid they had given him this time. They had drugged him before, causing hallucinations. If he could figure out which one it was, maybe he could fight against it next time.
Dick slipped off the bed and tentatively took his first steps. His feet were a little shaky, but not overly so that he had to worry about falling. He checked behind the other curtain, but there was nothing except a second mattress.
Weird.
Beneath his bed, he didn't find anything either, and that were already all the hiding spots Dick could think off. Frustrated, he sat down on the bed again. He must have made enough ruckus for his hallucinated Batman to stir.
"Robin…?" He muttered and sat up.
Dick chose to ignore him. Nothing good had come out of talking to a fake Batman before.
The fake rubbed his eyes and stretched, then hissed and twitched. Dick was still ignoring him. This wasn't real, Batman wasn't here. He was probably somewhere in Gotham beating up criminals, or maybe he was searching for Dick. Dick was reasonably sure that Batman liked him enough to search for him.
"Robin!" The fake exclaimed, sounding pretty shocked. What for Dick didn't know.
"Go away," Dick said and crawled beneath the blanket again, pulling the covers above his head.
Perhaps, if he didn't see the other, he'd disappear faster.
"Robin, you're awake! Shit- are you alright? Does anything hurt? Ro- Richard, look at me, please. I'm so, so sorry I wasn't here any faster. I promise everything will be alright again and you can be mad at me all you want later. I promise I'll take you wherever you want to go after this. I'll even track down Haly's again, but please- just- Richard, please look at me."
Dick hated the fake's words. He spoke just like Batman, except not really. He didn't growl, and he sounded way too worried to be Batman, but he said just what Dick wanted to hear and it wasn't fair! Batman wasn't next to him, he was walking through the streets far away from Dick, leaving him all on his own down here.
"Richard, please," the fake begged, and Dick had enough.
"Shut up!" He screamed and chose that moment to jump up right at his hallucination.
It was fake. It couldn't hurt or touch him. Dick had tried it before, he had passed just right through it, and even though it hadn't gone away then, it had been good to realize that it was really just a dream.
This Batman, however, was apparently solid as Dick crashed right into his chest, leaving the man wheezing.
"What-?" Dick was at a loss for words. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. He was supposed to fall right through Batman onto the ground, hurt himself, and feel like an idiot. Instead, he was leaning against Batman, who was quick in putting an arm around Dick.
"I've got you, Richard. Everything's okay, I've got you, I promise."
Hesitantly Dick raised his hands to poke Batman's chest to test whether he was really tangible. It was impossible. There was no way, no chance, that Batman could be here, yet his fingers refused to pass through the black fabric the man was wearing and the skin that was beneath it.
Dick looked up into Batman's face. His eyes were red, like Dick's in spring because all the pollen made him cry.
"B…?"
Batman smiled in that awful sad way of his like he was always half torn between a smile and a grimace. "Hello, Richard."
"You're here," Dick said, emphasizing every syllable. "I'm not dreaming, you're really here."
"Of course, I am."
And that was all it took for Dick to burst into tears. Ugly sobs escaped him as he threw his hands around Batman.
"You- you're-" Dick hiccupped. He couldn't get out a proper sentence. He pressed as close to Batman as he could, trying to feel the warmth the last weeks had been missing.
And then he kept on crying.
X
Batman kept Dick in his arms, and for the first time in weeks, Dick thought that maybe everything was going to be alright. Batman had managed to find his parents' killer and track Dick down even here in this darkness. Surely he'd find a way to get both of them out of here as well.
"Do you have a plan?"
Batman hesitated. "Not yet. I need to know more about this place first. Is there anything you can tell me? What are they planning to do?"
Dick shook his head. "The only thing they ever say is 'Gray Son this' and 'Purpose that'. And then they throw me back into- into-"
Dick could feel the tears coming back. He shut his eyes and hid his face in Bruce's chest. He had to be strong. He shouldn't start crying again because it would be no help to anyone. Robin wasn't a child. Robin was Batman's fearless and brave partner in crime- well, justice actually, and Dick had to fulfill his role.
"I don't want to go back into the ring," Dick said, voice wavering despite his best efforts.
Batman's hands were warm on Dick's face, wiping away traitorous tears.
"I know, I'll think of something. I promise we'll go home soon."
X
Batman's idea of 'coming up with a plan' left Dick staring in horror from the stands of the arena as Bruce faced the Talon in his stead. The Talon seemed to be even harsher to Batman than she had been to Dick, pushing him until he collapsed and couldn't get up again.
But Batman didn't scream, he didn't even cry, unlike Dick who hadn't been able to stop himself from begging her to stop with her assault on him. He just took every punch, kick and cut and got up again and again until his legs didn't hold him anymore.
And all Dick could do was watch from the stands with the masked man who usually fixed up his injuries. He observed the match attentively, tilting his head ever so often in thought or drumming his shaking hands against the railing. The Owl was here every day for Batman's fights but never moved an inch when Batman got injured.
Dick had to help him. It was Robin's job to make sure Batman stayed safe. They would go home soon, Batman had promised it. And Robin wouldn't leave this place without Batman.
"Let me fight," Robin said.
The Owl looked away from the match to turn to Robin.
"Let me fight together with Batman," Robin repeated, staring right into the Owl's black eyes.
Determination filled Robin, let him stand up straight.
"Go," the Owl said, and Robin immediately rushed into action.
He jumped over the railing of the stands and landed on his feet on the checkered floor of the ring. The Talon acknowledged his presence with nothing more than a slight shift in her stance, adjusting for another opponent attacking her from the left.
Batman tried to protest Robin's presence, but after the hit to the throat he'd taken, he wouldn't be able to speak properly for another few hours. Robin could easily ignore the raspy prompt to get back where he came from. Besides, Batman had no right to look so surprised. By now, he should know that Robin didn't listen to dumb demands.
He took another breath to calm himself, then Robin picked up the nearest throwing knife and ran towards the Talon.
X
"This was beyond stupid," Bruce ranted. "You could have gotten hurt- Richard, are you even listening to me?"
Dick blew a raspberry. Bruce had been talking for ages, ever since they both woke up again in their room, all bandaged up. He was still sore from the fight, but his wounds weren't as severe as Dick had thought they'd be. Worse than the pain though, was Bruce's name dropping. He seemed to put a Richard at every end of a sentence, and it was driving Dick insane.
"I don't know, Batman, am I?" Dick replied, putting as much emphasis on the name as he could, dragging out the vowel for exaggeration.
Bruce made a face. "Don't do that. This is serious."
"Well, yes. But you don't see me going all fancy with names, do you? No need to tag a Richard into every sentence."
"But it's your name."
"Dick."
Bruce raised an eyebrow, the perfect picture of someone daring you to repeat what you just said. Dick just grinned.
"Nobody's ever called me Richard. It's always been Dick."
Dick deciphered from Bruce's look that the man was not buying it. He guessed that it was fair. Dick had been born in Europe, and many of the kids he'd been around then hadn't spoken English. By the time Dick had learned what his nickname also meant, the name already stuck. He didn't mind, though. To him, the nickname was connected to precious memories.
"Really, I promise. I wouldn't joke about names. Names are important, you have to cherish them."
Bruce's smile was torn somewhere between resignation and amusement.
"Alright then, Dick. If you want to be called that, I'll call you that."
"Great!"
X
Bruce was far from pleased when Dick continued joining him in the fight against the Talon, but what choice did Dick have? Sit aside and watch as Bruce suffered? That simply wasn't a viable option for him.
Besides, it wasn't like they ended up unconscious on the ground every time. Slowly but steadily they improved and eventually their fights expanded into them pushing the Talon back instead of merely trying to block her hits. They still hadn't found a way out, but Dick hoped that once their tag-teaming would be strong enough to defeat the Talon, perhaps they could give her the slip when she escorted them back to their rooms.
She never said a word, was even more silent than Bruce most of the time and didn't show any reaction to anything whatsoever. The only hint that there wasn't some kind of mechanical robot hiding behind the black mask – and yes, Dick had considered it despite Bruce's incredulous looks – was the fact that she seemed to be softer on Dick. She didn't hit him as hard or targeted him as often as Bruce.
Dick wondered who she was. He wanted to know, and if she didn't tell him, Dick would simply have to ask.
"What's your name?" Dick asked the Talon a couple weeks into their stay down here.
There was of course always the possibility that she was mute and unable to speak, or simply refused to. The only thing Dick ever saw her do was fight against them for the masked ones. There wasn't much use for talking then, was there?
The Talon stared at him, all expressions hidden away behind her mask. Dick wondered what face she was making.
"I'm Dick. You may call me Robin," he said. "And his name is Bruce, but don't call him that, he'll get cranky. He listens to Batman."
At first, the Talon didn't respond, as if unsure of what he wanted from her. Then she leaned towards him and in one swift movement, Bruce pushed Dick behind him, although that didn't seem to deter the Talon. Instead, her hand now rested on Bruce's face and she slowly began to trace something on Batman's exposed skin.
M A R Y.
Dick let out a breath he didn't notice holding. He stepped out from behind Bruce's shadow and held out his hand. "Hello, Mary. It's nice to meet you."
X
Nothing seemed to change after learning the Talon's, Mary's, name. They still fought, she still didn't say a word. But the walks back to their room were less tense. It felt a little less like a warden leading them back to their cell and more like a friend accompanying them. Maybe she could come with them when they escaped. Certainly, nobody lived down here out of their own free will.
The Owl overseeing them definitely didn't, but perhaps he should. Dick was good at reading people, he had to be if he were to grow up to become a great performer, and Dick could tell that the Owl was getting restless. If even Dick and Bruce, who was something of a chronic terrible sleeper as Dick had learned, could get some shut-eye in this place, then a rich guy like the Owl should as well.
"You think he's angry his latest shipment of gold sprinkled chocolate didn't come?" Dick tried to joke.
"Unlikely," Bruce replied. "He's been getting more nervous when watching us with every session-"
Bruce stopped talking and frowned.
"Everything alright, B?"
"Yes, yes, it's just…" Bruce abruptly stood up from their mattress, leaving Dick to fall over.
"Hey!" He protested, but Bruce didn't pay him any mind. Instead, he crossed the room to walk over to the door.
Right next to it they had started marking off the days. Each morning they made a new mark to keep track of the schedule.
Fifty-nine little scratches decorated the wall, almost two months. By Dick's estimation, it would be Christmas soon.
"Two months," Bruce said. "It's been almost two months – time's up."
"What time?"
Bruce didn't reply right away but started pacing instead. Dick hated it when he did that. Bruce got so dark and broody then, and that never helped anybody.
"Come on, B. What are you talking about?"
Bruce stopped and sighed.
"When I arrived here, the Grandmaster, the leader of the Court, wanted to kill me immediately. It was the Owl who asked him to leave me alive a little longer."
"What for?"
"You, your training to be more precise. The Grandmaster gave the Owl two months to prove it would be worth it, I assume. And if our calendar is correct, tomorrow we've reached the end of those two months."
"You're joking, right?"
Bruce shook his head. "No."
"So what do we do now? What if they kill you? They can't do that, I don't want to be left behind. B, we have to get out of here. They- we-"
Dick closed his eyes to count to ten, the next moment Bruce was already at his side. "We can't let them take you away."
"We'll figure something out."
X
They spend the rest of the night talking in hushed whispers about possible escape opportunities. Perhaps they should run as soon as someone opened the door of the room? They knew which way led to the arena, so running the opposite direction seemed to be an excellent first step. But then there was the maze to consider and the fact that neither of them knew how to navigate it. If they could make it to one of Bruce's marks, they might be able to find their way back. Otherwise, they'd be utterly lost and most likely captured within minutes.
When morning finally came, and the door opened, they did not act.
Dick tried to jump up, but Bruce held him back. After Dick had fallen asleep last night, exhaustion finally catching up to him, Bruce had stayed up and calculated.
He had always been good at math. Right next to reading, that was the subject he had excelled at when he had still attended school. And afterward, survival was nothing more than calculating chances.
How much food did he need, how many clothes, how long would it take him to race from the Bowery to East End, how likely were they to catch his thievery, how many patients had he treated, how much money did he have, how much of himself did he have to sell?
The Court had taken Bruce because they had needed him as a pawn for Dick's training. Dick, on the other hand, they wanted. Such a slim chance of escape wasn't worth risking Dick's life.
Charity is a life savior, Tesoro.
Therefore Bruce told Dick to stay silent, listen to their orders, and to endure just until the path to the outside was a little clearer.
X
The arena was a horrifying familiar place. It was scrubbed clean after every battle, but Bruce imagined seeing the blood stains he knew had been there every time either way. The belts holding his knives suddenly seemed much too tight.
Just like the first time Bruce had been here, the hall was full with the masked wealthy, men and women cackling with their fake voices. The Owl was, once again, standing next to the Grandmaster, but Bruce didn't need to see his face to understand how nervous he was. This was a test for him just as much as it was one for them. Bruce didn't think the Court would execute their own members, but he was fairly sure that disappointing the Grandmaster was something to avoid.
"My dear Brothers and Sisters," the Grandmaster began to speak. "We're here to witness today what the Gray Son can do. Let's see if the Bat was if any use. Talon, fight them."
Bruce immediately fell into the stance that had been drilled into him in the past months. Mary wouldn't give them a split second to prepare for her assault, she never did. Dick was at Bruce's side, slightly behind him to reach for Mary in the moments she was trying to get away from Bruce.
Usually, they started with melee and built their way up to the knives once Mary decided to use them. This time, however, she immediately began with throwing a knife. Bruce barely managed to dodge and retaliate in kind. Mary was unbothered by it and jumped up, ready to kick Bruce.
Bruce knew that move. She had done it almost every training session, and Dick and him had long since learned how to dodge it. Bruce crouched down, getting out of Mary's path while Dick used Bruce's shoulders to propel himself upwards. His foot connected with Mary's shoulder and pushed her to the ground. She fell into a roll and immediately assaulted them again, using knives once more.
Bruce frowned. She always managed to keep them on their toes the entire time, pulling new techniques out of nowhere every day. All of the attacks she threw of them now they already knew. There was something off about this battle.
Mary threw another knife, yet again, and Bruce blocked once more, completely missing the way she rushed at him to continue her attack physically. Her fist hit his abdomen and Bruce was thrown to the ground, his left knee connecting with the floor with an unpleasant cracking sound. In one graceful turn, Mary now faced Dick.
Dick mostly avoided attacking Mary. He relied on Bruce to create an opening for him to operate within. He jumped out of Mary's way at the last moment and picked one of his knives to make Mary lose her balance.
Unfortunately, that move didn't work out at all as Mary avoided the blade like a child's play and raised her arm instead to strike Dick.
Dick wouldn't be able to block that punch, Bruce realized. In the split-second it took him to realize that, he was already halfway between Dick and Mary. The force of the jump knocked Dick down, Bruce's body towering above him like a shield. Mary didn't hesitate and adjusted her stance to accommodate for a second target.
"I've seen enough," the Grandmaster's voice boomed through the arena.
Mary's claws were just an inch away from Bruce's neck, aiming straight for the kill, similarly to the first time Bruce had been fighting on the checkered floor. At the Grandmaster's order, she fell back into an upright stance, no longer looming over Bruce. Her hands she kept behind her back, and she looked up to the Grandmaster like a picture perfect obedient doll. With a hiss, Bruce pulled himself up as well while Dick still lingered in his shadow.
"The Gray Son has improved with leaps and bounds. You have done well."
It wasn't clear who exactly he was talking to, the Owl who stood up straighter at these words, Mary who didn't move at all, or Dick who didn't dare to let go of Bruce's shirt.
"The Bat has aided in the Gray Son's growth well. Yet, against the Talon, he still lacks. The effort of keeping him doesn't make up for what he costs us."
At these words, the Owl startled. "Sir, you can't be serious. You must see how much stronger he has grown while he was in my care."
"Of course, I can see that. But look at his eyes. Can't you tell that he will only grow stronger to rebel against us? He is an unnecessary risk to our organization."
"But-"
"Silence, doctor. You have done your part, now destiny will move forward. The Gray Son will be further trained, the Bat won't. Talon, kill him."
Mary pulled a knife from her back. Bruce didn't think their audience could see it from this angle, she did so incredibly slowly.
Behind himself, Bruce could hear Dick whimper.
There would be no escaping this. Bruce wasn't enough of a fool to think he could defeat Mary. His leg was injured, he'd never be fast enough to move away from Mary without endangering Dick. Never mind, that he'd only had one knife left to himself and Mary would never give him the chance to pick another one up when she was told to execute him.
It wasn't her fault, Bruce told himself as he put his right hand on Dick's head, then moved it to cover his eyes. Mary had been doing this for decades, the Owl had let that particular piece of information slip a while ago. That she had managed to still tell them her name had been a miracle.
Bruce breathed in.
He hoped Dick could get away and find his way to Selina. She'd make sure that they would disappear somewhere the Court couldn't find them.
And out again.
Mary threw her knife, fast and precise and it impaled its target right in the forehead, cracking his white mask.
Bruce stared in shock at the collapsing form of the Grandmaster. Hysteric screams erupted all around them as Mary threw herself into the action. First, the Court members right next to the Grandmaster died, then the rest. Blood sprayed as she executed the members of the Court one by one as they tried to escape. Knives went flying everywhere and Bruce couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Batman?"
Dick had pried away Bruce's hand and was pointing at the gate that was usually blocking off their way from the arena. Right now, however, it was open and the Owl was standing there, waving at them.
The Owl was a tall man, but he wasn't a Talon. Even injured, they'd be able to take him.
"Let's go," Batman ordered and marched in the Owls direction, Robin following him quickly.
He tried to ignore the screaming and the harsh outcry whenever he used his injured leg. When they reached the Owl, Batman was ready to fight him off.
"Take the first turn right," the Owl said. His suit was surprisingly clean considering the massacre behind them. "Then run straight and turn into the third junction left. The second junction left. Fourth junction right. At the end of the path, you'll see a door, it'll lead down to the cave system near Wayne Manor. From there, follow the lights to the sewers. Go."
"Why should we trust you?"
"As I told you before, I'm not a liar. I have nothing to gain from leaving you here."
Batman thought that the Owl had plenty to gain from leaving them here, but behind them screamed the masses, so what choice did they have? He doubted that a trap would be awaiting them at the end when everybody, but the Owl was so concerned with escaping Mary's wrath.
"Third junction left-" the Owl began to say again, but Bruce interrupted him with a harsh "I remember."
He shared a glance with Robin, and off they went.
X
Robin ran in front of Batman, always checking if somebody was trying to ambush them when they took a turn. That was something from before, something Batman had taught Robin.
Don't just open doors, you don't know who's standing behind them. Look out for everyone, just because they seem to be weaker, doesn't mean they actually are.
To their surprise, they didn't encounter a single soul on their way through the maze. It put Batman on edge. All of this screamed of a trap. Who was to say that the people Mary had killed weren't actors and the path they were taking wasn't leading them down even deeper into the abyss?
The blood loss was making him dizzy. He wasn't alert enough for this kind of endeavor, but it wasn't like they had much choice in the matter.
"Fourth junction right," Robin muttered. "This is it, right?"
He turned to look at Batman and Bruce knew that this was the last chance. Robin was tired, that much could be deduced from the bags beneath his eyes. Above even that though, the bone-crushing exhaustion and hope Batman saw in his eyes told him that Dick wouldn't be able to continue much longer if this wasn't the end to the past months.
With every step they took in the corridor, Bruce could feel the bile rising in his throat. He hadn't prayed for anything at all in years, not since flimsy words hadn't done anything to help him. But this time, just this once, he begged that freedom would lie behind the door they were approaching.
"Ready?" Bruce asked.
"Ready," Dick replied and both of them started to push at the door. Surprisingly, it opened rather easily. The door Bruce had used to enter the maze had been much more difficult to force open. It had creaked and protested. Compared to that, this one was as silent as a cat.
The first thing Bruce registered when the door was open, was the darkness. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to it, but sure enough, there was no polished marble on the walls in front of him. Instead, they found themselves standing in the caves the Owl had told them about.
"There are the lights."
Dick was pointing at one wall. A light chain was attached to it, with one light bulb every few meters, but Bruce didn't allow himself to relax yet. They still weren't out of danger, they still weren't outside. Silently, Dick and he marched on, but Dick obviously grew more anticipated with every second that passed.
Soon after, the caves seemed to become lighter, and the sweet sound of harbors reached Bruce's ears. Ships, and seagulls and the hum of a living city echoed through the caves. Dick couldn't be stopped anymore. With whatever energy he had left in him, he rushed forwards towards the presumed exit of the caves. Bruce found himself speeding up as well, trying to keep up with Dick.
They were going to make it, they weren't going to die in the light.
Wind hit Bruce's face.
Gotham lay in front of him, tall, dark and familiar. The only thing separating them from the main city was the river, but to their right, Bruce could see the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, one of the three bridges connecting Gotham to the mainland.
They had survived.
Bruce slowly sunk to his knees. The gravel that made up the beach scrunched under his weight. Dick was standing by his side, half leaning on Bruce, really, staring up into the night sky with awe.
They were finally home again.
This chapter was a bitch to write. Honestly, I might have actually cried. Anyway, now we got a trained Dick and Bruce who actually know how to fight thanks to the Court! And the Court has been reduced to a smaller problem due to Mary! Those of you who don't know her, she's part of the Birds of Prey in the New 52! She was born in the 1930/40s and was part of Haly's for a while before becoming a Talon and later on joins the Birds of Prey. I choose her because I didn't want to make an OC.
Also, nothing like torture and fighting to make a child touch starved, right? By the way, shout out to Tom King for creating a more and more terrible Batman. I wrote the end of this chapter in one go, driven by spite after seeing the latest update (no, I didn't even read it. I had better things to do lmao). So thanks for absolutely nothing but giving me motivation.
Also. Uh. Jason probably won't make an appearance until chapter 5. Sorry about that.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'd love to hear what you think!