Author's Note: This chapter took far too long to finish, in my opinion. But it's nice and long, so I hope that makes up for it. I considered cutting it off in a couple places, but that would have required I come up with more chapter titles and opening monologues, and I'm simply too lazy for that. So I made you guys wait instead. Man, I can't tell you how much trouble this one gave me. But I really kinda like it. Except there's this one bit near the end where things get a little awkward, and you can kinda tell that's where I was stuck at for three days straight. Anyhow, Phantom was amazing, even though the chandelier didn't work in the beginning. And I'm going out of town again next week for a reunion my family's been planning for three years. Dunno how that's all gonna work out. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out before we leave, cuz I don't think we get internet at the retreat center we're staying at. Shoutout time! Eavis, I just realized I never answered your question. My theatre group is doing a production of Hi-Tops. It's an old 80's movie that had Crystal Lewis in it. The same Crystal Lewis that was in Roundhouse with Mark, Ivan, Dom, and David S., incidentally. I used King of New York for my audition piece. Anyway, yes, geometry sucks, and Race... Well, in his defense, it really wasn't his fault this time. I mean it was, but it wasn't... methegirl. Yes, I'm notorious for my cliffhangers, and I'm afraid this one isn't much better in that respect. But you guys are gonna have to trust me then, aren't you? *evil grin* And I'm glad you liked the "bathroom scene". That was one of my favorites to write. As was the closing scene of this chapter, for some sadistic reason I have not yet deciphered...

Workin' hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice
Just one more time
- - -

Chapter 13: Gamble Your Life Away

I mentioned yet dat Demon's got a nasty temper?

So here's da story. Turn's out dat Selina's heist da night b'fore was a set-up. Dey was plannin' on me snitchin' on her, givin' away her hideout an' all. Tryin' ta keep da capes busy fer awhile so's dey could snag me. Which dey did.

Selina made da grab. Never woulda pegged her fer da type ta work fer da likes'a Demon. She hung 'round Murder Alley a lot, an' she seemed real close wit' Rhino an' all. But anyway, dere ya have it. Honest ta goodness, I swear I din't go lookin' fer no trouble dis time. Last thing I wanted was Spot on me back again. All da same, dere I was, walkin' home from school. Spot an' Blink'd already headed out fer deir patrol, so I's left ta walk home by myself. Den da next thing I know, I's on da ground bein' blindfolded an' she's all purrin' in my ear tellin' me not ta scream.

I dunno where dey took me. My guess was da docks, but it's hard ta tell, wit' Gotham bein' on an island an' all, not unlike Manhattan. Everythin' smells like saltwater. An' den I hear Demon sayin' he wants his revenge, an' dat he's gonna get it one way or anudder. An' den Selina's all beggin' him ta leave her da Bat, cuz he's been gettin' on her last nerve lately. An' dat's when it hits me.

Dey's figured somethin' out.

Whether it's da whole truth, or dey's just on da right track, dey's figured I'm somehow connected ta Batman. Which is precisely what I didn't want happenin'. I mean, dat was a large part'a da reason I didn't want nuttin' ta do wit' dis whole Robin thing in da first place, was cuz I was already in pretty deep wit' Rhino, an' I didn't want it gettin' back ta Bruce an' da other's. It's a pretty lame excuse, I know, but still.

Afta dey'd finished arguin' over who was gettin' what an' how it was all s'posed ta go down, Demon started makin' all kinds'a demands, tellin' me he was gonna make me call Bruce an' relay his "requests". Dey didn't bother takin' da blindfold off. Weren't like I needed ta see anyway. Just kinda shoved da phone in my face an' told me when ta start talkin'

Bruce wasn't home. I didn't expect him ta be. Afta all, Al had told us earlier dat day dat Bruce was outta town. Well, Oracle intercepted da call, like she always does, an' when she heard what I's sayin' she started recordin' it. I knew I wasn't talkin' ta Bruce, but I had ta do somethin', so I just let her record my message, an' explained ta Demon later dat he'd get it when he got back in town.

Well dat weren't good enough for him, so 'bout an hour later – close ta da time when Spot an' Blink was s'posed ta be makin' da bust on Selina – he placed a second call. I guess Bruce'd made it back by den, an' soon's she could Oracle called him in ta listen an' hit da alert ta bring da boys in, too. Demon let me run my mouth fer little over five minutes b'fore he made his final demands and hung up. Den he got to smackin' me aroun'…

It was dark. Always dark. A perpetual stretch of blackness that was only interrupted by the rare sliver of light that opened up at the end of the tunnel of night. Occasionally, the sounds of grinding metal or shouting would pierce the dull silence that hung in the air. But for the most part, the only thing he had any sense of was his own shallow breathing echoing off the walls.

It hadn't taken Racetrack very long to figure out that he was being kept in a shipping crate on the north docks. This conclusion had come less from a sense of his surroundings and more from deductions of Demon's behavior. The north docks was where the Murder Alley gang had held their Death Ring matches. It was where Demon's right hand man, Bull, had been killed. Because of a fixed fight.

Because of a fight he had fixed.

That was why he was here. Demon was looking for revenge. And someone had told him who was fixing the bets for Rhino. Snake, or maybe Twitch. It didn't matter now. The point was, he was probably going to die. He knew Bruce would do everything in his power to get him out. But he also knew that Demon was bound and determined to get his satisfaction from this whole ordeal, one way or another. Even if he had to cross the Batman himself to get it.

Race had no clue how long he'd been there. It had obviously been longer than a day, possibly even two, but his entire sense of time was skewed by the frequent visits Demon made to his makeshift prison to "rough him up a bit", as he put it. And also by the fact that every time the crate was opened, daylight could be seen pouring in briefly from outside.

Like now. The metal door of the crate grated open a fraction, letting the bright sunlight pierce through blindingly for a moment before it was once again extinguished. Race held his breath as the sound of footsteps echoed in the small space, making their way deliberately toward the center. But when the small, electric light on the ceiling was lit, he was surprised to find that it was not Demon this time who had come to pay him a visit.

Selina let her gaze roam over the dim interior of the shipping crate. When at last she saw the little Italian curled into the far corner, she smiled and settled her lithe body comfortably into the single chair at the center, her knees up to her chest and all but perched on the wooden back. Her green eyes sparkled as she watched him. "Scared yet, little gambler?" she breathed, her voice coming out as smooth as silk in the close space.

He shrugged casually and let his muscles relax a bit, pointedly avoiding her gaze. After a moment, he let out a small sigh. "What day is it?" he asked softly.

"Saturday."

The way the word rolled off her tongue, it almost sounded like a judge's sentence. He nodded to himself, thinking. He'd been picked up Wednesday. Which meant he'd been there for three days already. After drawing as deep a breath as he could manage – what with his now-permanently sore ribs – he asked the one question that had been plaguing him since he'd arrived. "Why'd ya do it, Selina? Thought we was on good terms."

Draping one arm over the chair back, she cocked her head to the side and regarded him carefully. "We were," she replied. "I told you, kid, I like you. You've got spunk. What you don't have is brains."

"So I keep hearin'," he muttered.

Selina unfolded herself from her perch and crept closer, searching out his eyes with her own. "You know I don't work for any one side. I'm a free spirit. I see something I want, I take it." She paused, kneeling down in front of him and trailing a clawed finger across his face thoughtfully. "You have connections that I need."

Race shuddered and pulled away from her. "So I guess it don't matta what happens ta me in da end, right?" he spat. "Just as long's ya get what ya want out of it."

"I can't control Demon any more than you could," she said with a shrug.

"Well I hope you burn fer dis. You's a no-good scamp, ya know dat? An' dat's all you's ever gonna be."

With a snarl, she reached out and snatched a handful of his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look her in the eye. Her face darkened dangerously as her voice hit a threatening tone. "No one speaks to me like that," she hissed. "And certainly not some deranged street urchin. I've killed grown men for less."

"Who's da deranged one here? You's da one dat looks like some freakish cat."

She gave a final growl before tossing him back against the metal wall of the crate and rising to her feet. On her way out, she paused, one hand reaching out toward the light switch, and turned back to him. "You'd better hope Demon kills you before I do," she warned. "Because I will make it slow and painful."

"I can't believe we were set up!" Spot exclaimed, his blue eyes flashing. The echoing sounds of his voice bounced faintly against the cave walls for a moment, disturbing a few sleeping bats as it traveled back into the dark maze of expansive caverns. He clenched his fists and shook his head. "The museum robbery was just a decoy, something to keep us busy. And they knew he'd tell us where we could find her. They knew. How did they know?"

It was Saturday. Bruce was gathering his equipment, preparing to set out for the docks, while Spot and Blink were busy trying to piece together everything that had happened in the past couple days. Everything was falling into place with a gut-wrenching precision, all just a little too late.

Blink rubbed the back of his neck as he racked his brain with the same questions they'd asked themselves a million times already. "Maybe they didn't know," he suggested. "Maybe they just guessed. I mean, you guys picked him up in the alley that night. If she saw you, it doesn't take a lot of brains to put two and two together." Spot grunted in reply and impatiently tapped the ground with his cane, listening to the echoes for a moment. "The question is," Blink went on after a moment, "why did she turn Tim in to Demon in the first place? I mean, I was under the impression that she was in good with Rhino and his gang. So why go to the rival gang with info on their bookie?"

"The thing you have to remember about Catwoman," Bruce interjected, "is that the only side she works for is her own. Obviously Demon paid her; she doesn't do anything unless there's money involved. But I have a feeling there's another reason."

Spot's head snapped up. "We've been cracking down on her lately. That's why Demon wanted you to bring the ransom money. He gets compensated for his losses, and they both get a shot at taking you out of the picture."

"Good work." Bruce tossed him the two-way communicator that Oracle had given him. "Robin, go get suited up."

"Wait, why?" Blink asked, confused. "Demon said you were to go alone."

"He said things would get interesting if I didn't. Think about it. What is Demon?"

Blink shrugged. "A thug? A gang leader?"

"A gambler," Spot answered for him. "It was the only thread of civility between the two gangs. And to 'make things interesting', gamblers put down bets."

Bruce nodded. "I think having you there will do more to improve our odds than to hurt them. Nightwing will be on the roof with the communicator, keeping Oracle up-to-date on what's going on in case something goes wrong."

"What about the money?" Blink asked. "Are you even gonna bother bringing it?"

With a sigh, Bruce stopped what he was doing and bowed his head. "If there's even the slightest chance it'll ensure Tim's safety without a fight… then yes."

The north docks of Gotham City were mostly deserted, now only used by drug dealers and gangs for their various illegal activities. Not surprising, really, given the proximity of the Narrows. The few remaining dim street lamps cast ghostly shadows between the piles of abandoned shipping crates that littered the docks. There was no telling how many of the crates still had stuff in them, seeing as most of them were heavily locked and the keys long-lost. A few without locks, however, had some time ago been emptied and were now used for any number of unspeakable purposes.

When they found Demon somewhere in the maze of crates – accompanied only by two goons with guns and Selina herself – Blink was pretty sure that one of those purposes was the holding of prisoners. The thought made him shudder.

Demon stepped forward to meet them, the nasty smirk on his face growing wider by the second. Right beside him was Selina, a coy grin matching her sauntering step and a length of rope coiled over one arm. Blink felt his anger flare up at the casual demeanor of the pair. They were acting as if a person's life wasn't at stake. And the cold, calculating look that the gang leader was giving him made him positively sure that it most certainly was.

"So," Demon said, his smirk breaking into an all-out grin of sick pleasure. "You chose to ignore my warning. This should be fun."

"Where's the boy?" Batman demanded.

"Oh don't worry about him. You'll see him soon enough. But first, the money."

Reluctantly, Blink handed the briefcase with the ransom money in it to Selina. She set it on a nearby crate and proceeded to count it. "It's all there," Batman assured them, his tone indicating that he was losing his patience. Selina glanced up with a nod to confirm this statement, once again taking her place beside Demon and handing the briefcase to him. "Now take us to the boy."

"All in good time," Demon leered, his intent gaze still on Blink.

Suddenly, at some unspoken signal, Selina reached out and grabbed a fistful of the boy's blonde hair, her other hand coming to rest on his throat. He reached up to pry her hand away, but the claws on her fingers pressed uncomfortably against his skin. The two goons brought up their guns to keep Batman at bay while Demon moved toward one of the large shipping crates, a ring of keys in one hand. "You see, Batman," he said evenly, his voice rising slightly to be heard over the sounds of Blink's struggling and the rattle of the locks, "my right-hand man, Bull, he was murdered in a game we low-lifes here like to call the Death Ring. Murdered, I say, because the game was fixed. Rhino, he set me up. And I'll get my revenge on him eventually. But right now, I want even with the kid who set it up. And Selina here, she wants you off her back. And so I figured, what better way to accomplish both goals than to hold our very own Death Ring match right here? But then, of course, you had to bring your little side-kick along for the ride. And I'm thinking to myself, I'm thinking, just how much better would it be for you to watch your partner participate in this match instead? Especially if you can't do anything about it."

As soon as he had one of the doors open, Selina shoved Blink inside, throwing the coil of rope in with him. Demon pulled a gun out of his back pocket and tossed it in as well before slamming the door shut and locking it again. He pulled out a second gun and pointed it at Batman's head, the smirk now gone from his face and a wild look in his eye. "The boy and your partner. Twenty minutes. If they don't kill each other before then, my friends here will do it for them."

Blink stumbled forward and fell to his knees as everything around him was plunged into complete darkness. His heart hammered in his chest, and he briefly wondered if Spot was getting help. Not that it would do them much good, he soon realized. Demon's voice echoed faintly from the other side of the door, and suddenly he understood what was going on. Things were about to "get interesting".

The sounds of shallow breathing matched his from somewhere on the other side of the crate. Tentatively, he reached his hands out in front of him and started to crawl forward. The fingers of his right hand brushed against something cold and metal. As they closed around it, his stomach lurched. A gun.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and he heard something shift off to his left in response. "T-Tim?" he called out, feeling his voice crack with the effort. He stood and walked toward the sound, banging hard against something in the process. He swore under his breath as his hand found a wooden chair in his path. "Tim, is that you?" he called out again.

A faint voice finally responded from what he guessed was the far corner. "Blink?" Relief washed over him as he continued making his way in that direction. "Whaddaya doin' here?"

Blink gulped down the ache rising in his throat. "Death Ring, Race. You and me. Demon's pitted us against each other in a Death Ring match." When he reached what seemed like a wall, he turned his back to it and slid down, the gun clattering on the floor as he slumped over.

"What… What was dat?"

"A… A gun. There's a… a rope in here somewhere, too. Race… I'm not gonna like this, but… explain to me exactly what a… a Death Ring is."

There was a deep sigh from somewhere near his left shoulder before the answer came. "Dey… Dey stick two guys in a crate an' make 'em fight to da death. Sometimes, ta make it innerestin', dey put weapons in wit' 'em an' give 'em a time limit."

"I think Demon wants to make it interesting."

"Makes ya say dat?"

"He said we had twenty minutes before his goons did the job for us."

Race could be heard muttering various curses under his breath. Then there were some small scraping noises as – Blink assumed – he rose to his feet. "Wait, den dat gives us twenty minutes ta figure a way outta dis. Right?" Blink didn't answer right away, and he could hear the panic seep into the Italian's voice. "Right, Blink?"

"Race, I… I just don't see any way out of this. I mean, it's not like I want to try to kill you, but—"

"But ya already got da gun," Race finished coldly, the sound of his voice and footsteps moving slowly backward until a faint thump could be heard.

Blink choked on his reply. The sound of the gun sliding against the metal floor of the crate as he picked it up grated harshly on his nerves. His mind raced. Precious minutes dragged by before he finally pushed himself back up to his feet. The sounds of his own footsteps echoed ominously in his ears. With his left hand guiding him along the back of the crate and his right clutching the gun in a death grip, he made his way forward.

"Hey, Blink, c'mon now," Race pleaded, shuffling along the far wall back toward the door. "Don't play aroun' like dat. Dis ain't funny." There was a heavy thud accompanied by a panicked grunt, and then the sounds of scrambling and what sounded like something long and slender dragging along the floor. "Look, I know you's… You's probly mad at me. An' ya got every right, but… But… Blink, c'mon. Just put da gun down."

There was another soft thud as Race's back hit the front end of the crate. Blink's resolve wavered momentarily as he listened to his friend's pleas, but he blocked them out. The sound of the gun clicking resounded loudly in the close space as his thumb slid the hammer down. A string of expletives came from somewhere in front of him. He aimed the gun in that general direction. "Race," he gasped out, his breath coming short and fast. "Don't move…"

He squeezed the trigger. The shot went off louder than he expected. Someone yelled, though he wasn't sure who because his ears were ringing. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. In the brief flash of light, he saw the shocked expression on Race's face as he stood pressed against the door with the rope in his hands. And then all his senses were once more plunged into darkness.

"Dammit, Blink!"

Blink let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and let the gun clatter to the floor. His hands were shaking and he felt dizzy. But he wasn't done yet. Shaking off the feelings of panic, he braced his feet a moment before charging toward the door. When he'd reached the other side – as best he could judge – he pitched his shoulder forward and slammed up against it.

The metal creaked as it gave way.

Author's Note: Please don't kill me. Reviews would be nicer. On a different note entirely, this story is now officially my longest. And when I say officially, I mean without author's notes and such. It currently stands at 24,706 words, whereas Despair's Edge, my only complete chaptered fic, wrapped up at 23,769. Naturally, what with my notoriously long AN's, it looks much longer on the site... But yeah. We've got four chapters for sure to go, five if I decide to do an Epilogue. But I don't know what it would be about yet, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see what the next few chapters look like. The titles are fun, and we've just hit the climax, so I'm really excited. OH! Speaking of which, I want to poll you guys. The next chapter, I have planned a very heated argument between Blink and Race (cuz you know there is anger floating around right now). I also had this great conversation in my head for Bruce and Race, but I don't know if that would slow the plot down too much. Jason's death is coming up fast, and I just really don't want to slow things down with a bunch of dialogue. So here's my question: Include the Bruce/Race conversation, or make it a separate oneshot to preserve the pace of the fic? Let me know!