When he had to choose between going right to the safe house or taking a detour to get a ride, Jason really regretted not taking one with in the first place. If someone had broken in and gotten the kid he'd need to move faster that he could on foot, but if the kid had somehow gotten out on his own, then the extra time to taken to get a motorcycle might have been enough for him to get back to Batman.

In the end, chose to risk the kid being thrown into danger sometime in the future, than being in the hands of someone with enough smarts to get past his security.

Jason grappled to his the dilapidated building containing among other things, his weapon cache and an assembly of vehicles for different purposes. He grabbed some more ammo and while he was there, just in case and swung a leg over one of the faster bikes.

The thought of having to repeat the nerve-wrecking task of rushing the kid through Gotham gave him pause before he set off and his eyes turned instead to the cars. He chose a nondescript SUV and checked which perimeter alarms had been tripped while he waited for his camera footage to download remotely.

Whatever had happened, the perpetrators had been sloppy, setting off every alarm on their way down the fire escape, and a lot of those weren't even very well hidden. And the descent had been slow, very slow. Jason growled under his breath at the confirmation that if he'd gone right to the safe house he might have been on time to stop it.

The first chunk of camera footage loaded up and Jason turned his attention to the screen. He fast forwarded through the kid channel surfing for half an hour after Jason had left on patrol, then get up and hobble over to the kitchen.

Brief irritation flared up at the kid's refusal to stay put, if he'd fallen and re-broken his ankle when there was no one around he could have risked more permanent damage. Then Jason remembered his own inability to keep still when he really should have and decided he'd let it fly. He was just considering getting some crutches when the kid reappeared in the living room with a knife.

Jason thought for maybe a second that the kid might have heard someone braking in and gotten the weapon to defend himself, then the kid made for the window. The footage cut off there, but the intent was clear.

The Red Hood gripped the steering wheel so hard he heard the plastic crumbling under his hands. Leaving that window with only simple security had been a contingency incase he had to move fast, he should have known to put his emergency exit somewhere more well hidden, but there was always the chance the kid would need it when Jason wasn't there.

He'd spent weeks working to build up the funds to make sure just that wouldn't happen, and now it might have all been for nothing. The Bats had all sorts of protocols for things like that and the chances that the kid hadn't contacted them yet were slim to none.

With a grunt he eased up on the gas and took a more leisurely ride back to the Bowery.

'Can get himself killed on the streets for all I care.' Trying to help him had been a bad idea in the first place.

He paid only marginal attention to the road, studying the bright lights of the city as he drove by. Jason let a small smile curl on his lips, since he had the money and his plans were shot, there was no reason he couldn't take a break.

((LINE BREAK))

The room was dark, too dark for Tim to see anything beyond the pale light coming through the small crack under the door. His hands were zip tied behind him, and when he'd tried to break the ties he'd only been rewarded by hard plastic digging into his skin, bloodying his injured wrists.

Barely audible words floating in from just outside the room didn't tell him anything useful other than that there were men guarding the door, so getting out of the ties would be dangerous unless he did it fast and without injuring himself further in the process.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself into a sitting position, taking a few seconds to wait for the blood rush to his head to pass over before he tried to get his bearings.

His hands we're too numb for him to feel out his surroundings, so he kicked out with his socked feet, running them along the crates surrounding him. His toes brushed against something that clattered along the floor with a metallic twang.

His hissed when moving himself towards the object caused his shoulder – definitely dislocated – to bang into something that, judging by the sound, was made out of wood.

"Hear somethin'?" One of the voices got closer, heavy footsteps stomping towards the door.

Tim curled his toes around the metal object and kicked it within reach.

The door swung open and Tim forced his eyes not to close against the sudden brightness so he could study his captors. Not that it helped much, most of their featured were silhouetted by the light at their backs. One of them was quiet clearly part of the group that had caught him in the alley, the dark pink scar marring his face not completely hidden in the shadows.

"Looks like Mister Drake finally woke up." There was a grin in the thug's voice as he approached. "You don't have any complaints about the 'ccommodations, do ya?"

Tim's first instinct was to glare back at them as they surrounded him, or make a quip about the cliché lines they'd quite blatantly ripped off from an action movie. Two of them lifted him roughly off the ground, bringing him level with the other guy's grungy face.

"You's got ta answer when the Boss talks ta ya." One of them wacked Tim behind his head.

"No." Tim bit out, his eye's locked with those of their 'Boss', dark and rimmed with red, a dead giveaway that there had to be something in his system. Most gang leaders didn't sample the products from off the streets, ergo the man staring Tim down wasn't the one in charge.

He would have remembered any major players with defining feature like that scar, even if the man was just a proxy for their true boss. So either they were new to the Gotham scene, or they were just amateurs who'd been lucky enough to recognize Tim Drake wondering around a place he really shouldn't have.

A meaty fist lifted and Tim swore he'd find out exactly who they were when he got out, then it crashed into him and for a second his only thoughts were centered around the stars bursting to life behind his eyes. After few more hits that left Tim's head ringing the man spoke again.

"No?!" The man screamed, getting in close enough that drop's of his spittle landed in the boy's face. Confirming Tim's deduction that that he'd been smoking something recently, but another fist slamming into his cheek kept him from finding out what exactly it had been.

"I don't…" Tim spat out the blood that had dribbled from his nose into his mouth, "…have any complaints about the accommodations."

A confused frown dominated the man's expression, and Tim's frustration with his situation grew. To have been caught by such idiots… So much for him being the smartest of Bruce's protégés. He bet Ras would be laughing his head off if he saw Tim right then.

"Well I don' care 'bout yer complaints." Their 'Boss' said. "I care that ya do what we say."

"How much money do you want?" Tim asked, keeping his head low so the blood would drip more easily to the ground and stop clogging up his airways.

"You think we's stupid?" The man on Tim's left growled. "Soon as yer free you'll go to the cops an give us up."

Tim would have said something about not knowing their faces, but his eye's had adjusted and he could see all three of them clearly. One of them flicked out a knife and Tim's insides churned, figured they'd be smart enough to know that, but too dumb to keep their eventual plans for him a secret.

"Wait!" Tim called out, his voice hoarse. "You are doing this for ransom, right?"

The men traded incredulous looks, as though Tim was the one who had the IQ of a fig tree. "What do you think?" The one with the knife said.

"They'll pay faster if you send them proof of life." Tim did his best to not sound like he was slowing down his speech to be more understandable. "I'll tell them to pay, you can let me call and…"

He was silenced by a harsh backhand that got his ears ringing.

"So they can trace the call?" The Boss demanded. "I know how you's rich people gets the CSI to find yer kids fer ya."

"What about a video then." Tim's eyes were still on the knife while he subtly twisted his hands, cutting his wrists up more and slicking them with blood, just needed a little more friction to free his arms. "If you dropped it off somewhere without them seeing it." The men traded glances again. "Bruce won't pay you a cent if he doesn't have some proof I'm alive."

That got the only spark of understanding he'd seen from them. The Boss nodded and Tim was dropped back to the ground, hearing a snap as he landed on his newly healed fingers.

The door shut and Tim was left alone in the darkness again. He dragged himself over to where he'd tossed the piece of metal earlier. It was too dark again for him to see what it was, but he felt around for it with his swollen hands anyway.

He chuckled when he ran his hands along the object and found it to be the knife he'd used to facilitate his escape from Jason's apartment. It was too blunt to outright cut his ties, but he maneuvered it around to press the dull edge against them anyway.

The voices grew more frantic outside the door, some banging and clashing thrown in as his captors fought. Whatever they decided, Tim knew he didn't have long, maybe he didn't have any time at all. Trying to cut the ties was agony, it rubbed feeling back to his hands, and his grip on the knife kept slipping the more blood coated his hands.

When the ties finally snapped, Tim had to actually pull the ties out from under his flayed skin. He took a second to make sure his lightheadedness wasn't because he'd nicked any important arteries, then satisfied that he wasn't bleeding to death – yet – he got the knife in front of him and tried to get into a position from where he could at least try to defend himself.

The door scraped open again when he'd barely gotten to his knees. A new man, this one a bit on the smallish side and covered in tattoos tried to grab a handful of Tim's hair. The boy ducked under and thrust out with his knife, digging the blunt utensil into the soft spot behind the man's knee cap hard enough that it drew blood.

There was a scream and the man fell over, giving Tim access to his pockets. His hands closed around a much sharper knife, and he used it to slice the legs of the men trying subdue them.

At least a dozen men poured into the room at the sounds of their comrades' surprised screams. Tim's sloppy escape attempt hadn't accounted for so many, and his head felt lighter and lighter by the second. A deafening bang and the smell of gunpowder stopped the escape in it's tracks.

For a moment it was like all sound had been leached from the world, then red blossomed at Tim's shoulder, staining his pale shirt and bringing his attention to the metallic tang of blood in the air.

He never got a look at the shooter before his eye's rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed amidst the four screaming men he'd taken out.

((LINE BREAK))

Jason didn't care much for most of the dives he frequented. He didn't look old enough for anyone to take him seriously at most of them, and going drinking as the Red Hood was a physical impossibility.

There were still some he enjoyed though, places that didn't ask if he didn't tell and left him to brood over his beer in peace. He went to those places for the atmosphere than the alcohol though. That and the little pieces of news he was able to pick up.

He wasn't intentionally picking up information that night though, just watching the comings and goings of the other patrons, he still kept his ears open, just in case.

Talk about the rich and famous of Gotham wasn't exactly new, hearing gossip about which of those rich and famous were involved in unsavory activities was really one of the most popular conversation topics. Jason normally let that talk slide right over his head. If he had someone on his radar, he was going to need a lot more than bar gossip to go on.

So when he heard Tim Drakes name some up in one of those strings he didn't think very much of it, but that group was sitting closer to him than any of the others, so their words carried over more easily than gossip about Bruce Wayne running for mayor.

"Could be, he was laid up in the hospital, that's how Janie's ma got hooked."

"Yeah, and rich kids are always down by crown point buying, not surprised you saw him."

"Tim Drake at crown point?" Jason scoffed over his beer. "Someone with that kinda cash woulda had it delivered."

"Well maybe Daddy Wayne cut him off, don't you ever watched the news?" One of them shot back at him.

"Those kids are always on the news." Jason downed the rest of his beer and ordered another, he wasn't inebriated enough that it would impair his thinking, and it was easier to make people talk when you actually looked like you'd been drinking. "None of it's ever true."

"Yeah, well it is this time. No one's seen the guy for weeks, and all the reporters keep getting is no comments." A girl who looked about ready to topple over slurred.

"Well my Pa seen him in the Bowery. All shaky and in his PJ's, then those meat heads from Bludhaven show up and cart him away." The guy that said it tried to get to his feet, but stood for only a second before dropping back into his seat.

Jason chuckled and drank off half his beer before shoving some bills to the bartender and standing. "Yeah sure, maybe your Pa needs glasses."

"He does." The guy whined taking raising a bottle to his lips. "But Pa saw what he saw."

Jason waited until he was three blocks away from the bar before he let his expression shift. He didn't speed towards the Bowery, that would get him flagged by traffic cameras and he didn't have many cars that hadn't been.

His gear was still in the boot, so he parked a block away from his safe house and brought up the chunks of footage that had kept downloading while he was in the East End.

He watched the kid stumble down the alleyway on the grainy screen, and turn out of sight. At that pace, he wouldn't have gone very far, but if the kid knew about the camera's then the snail's pace could have been a ploy to throw Jason off.

The laptop clicked shut and Jason stepped out of the car, activating it's security before grappling up to the safe house.

There was a compartment under the fridge where he kept a small stash of emergency supplies, including a dozen burner phones. Jason dug out one of the devices and began dialing up the dealers he knew worked the streets the kid could have passed though.

Everyone knew the Red Hood was building up funds, and any newcomer who tried to take such a high profile payday out from under him should have expected some retribution.

Turned out there were lots of dealers who were willing to talk in exchange for a cut of the ransom, and if things went according to Jason's rapidly evolving plan, his money problems would be over very soon.

Tip-offs led him to an old bakery smack between Crown Point and Crime Alley. He'd gotten some extra supplies and changed cars before heading there, including a blanket and a thermos of coffee.

The kid's kidnappers didn't exactly have a reputation for taking care of their hostages. Newcomers who'd fled from the hell that had been Bludhaven since Dick had pissed off the wrong people and gotten the place bombed, they'd been trying to make a name for themselves in Gotham.

'Trying' being the operative word. It was just too bad for them there first big job had gotten them on his radar. He couldn't risk having people who weren't under his control knowing what was going on.

Having time to set up something more elaborate would have been preferable, but he'd make do with what he had.

Jason cut the power and snuck in from one of the dusty, boarded up windows.

He moved silently through the dark space, listening for the sounds locations of the men in the building.

One of the loudest voices was shouting for the other's to check the fuse box, but Jason heard a few screaming about Batman, or checking on the prisoner. Jason smirked when he heard glass breaking, followed by curses and more screaming. As Robin watching crooks jump out of windows had been one of the more entertaining parts of the job.

There was more shouting about the prisoner and finally the men began breaking into groups, some to check around outside or move to the fuse box. The one's who'd been chosen to look in on their hostage complained loudly about the job, making it easier for Jason to follow them.

He stayed out of sight, treading silently behind them as they followed the beams of dim flashlights into a basement. They paused in front of a door to a separate room, trying to be stealthy about opening the door, and Jason retreated to one of the further corners. Only when they'd been inside for a few seconds and he heard a gurgling groan did Jason follow further.

Thwip. Thwip.

Two silenced shots later and the men's bodies fell to the floor. Jason deactivated his night vision and picked up one of their flashlights.

"You know, I had half a mind to leave you here." He said to shivering kid on the ground.

"Hood." The kids watery eyes looked up at Jason and he looked like he was going to try to crawl away before the fight went out of him and he slumped back into the bloody ground again.

"This'll get old real fast kid." Jason shook his head and carefully lifted the kid into his arms, mindful for any new injuries he might have picked up.

The inside of the building had been freezing, but Jason knew that wasn't the only reason the kid was shaking. Jason carried him back out the way he'd come and the few blocks to the car.

The streets weren't as empty as he would have liked, but removing his hood once he'd put some distance between him and the place that went up in smoke minutes later was enough to turn aside most inquiring glances.

Getting the car door open without jostling the kid too much was hard, but Jason judged the lack of pain filled moans to mean he'd suceeded. Then he gently laid him on the back seat and cranked up the heat tucking the blanket around the kid, he felt a tiny bit of relief when he didn't have to look at the blood anymore.

They were halfway to his crime alley safe house before Jason though it was safe enough to pull over. He parked the car in a narrow alley, well hidden from any security cameras before he twisted back in his seat to get a better look at the damage.

The kid was pressed into his seat, shaking just as badly as he'd been when Jason had first found him.

"Come on." Jason sighed and climbed into the back seat, the kid flinched away from him, but Jason ignored it. He pulled the kid up, and hissed when he got a look at his bloody wrists. "This is gonna hurt." He got out his kris, glad for once that he hadn't had a chance to use it yet that night.

"Jason don't." The kid's voice came out in a panicked whisper.

"Longer it's on the worse it'll be." Jason said. "Suck it up." He was as careful as he could be when removing the ties, but he had to pull them out from under a layer of congealed blood and there was no way he could make it painless.

Once they were free, the kid pulled his arms close to his chest and took a few deep, shuddering breaths before sagging limply against the seat.

"That a bullet wound?" Jason asked, eyeing the darker circle of blood at his shoulder.

The kid nodded shakily, bringing one of his wrists to cover the wound protectively. "Don't touch it."

"I'm not gonna try and dig it out of you." Jason rolled his eyes and reached for the thermos that had rolled under a seat. "That and your hands, anything else?"

Another shake of the head. "Are you going to let me go home now?"

"Yeah, you're definitely in shock." He poured some coffee and brought the dark liquid to the kid's lips. "Drink up, it's just to warm you up a little."

When the thermos was empty, Jason tucked the blanket back around the kid.

"You're fucking lucky I found you before they were done calling in their ransom demand." Jason shook his head as he started the car back up and began the drive over to a certain bad tempered doctor's office. "They sent fingers with their notes, fucking bastards."

The kid didn't respond, his head pressed against the tinted glass of the window, that same steely look in his eyes. Jason refused to care that the kid was still set on getting away from him. Hopefully in a few days it wouldn't matter anymore.

'I'm gonna have to kidnap another doctor.'