A/N:

I didn't notice how pathetically short the previous chapter was. Ugh. Ah well, better than zilch, ey?

I'm really not liking this story so far, guys. My apologies that is sucks. But the whole point of this fanfiction writing from me is to get better at writing overall, and get some good whump in that I want.

I'm thinking of doing a story with one shot chapters so I don't have to have "plot." What do ya'll think? I would probably take requests. I think.

Tim watched as Damian woke with a groan. The young Robin was laying down on the med table in the Bat Cave with Alfred leaning over him. A glass of water in hand.. His only injury was a minor concussion, thankfully. Dick was over at the computer doing more research about the job Batman was working on that evening.

"Master Damian, drink this," Alfred encouraged as he helped the young boy up. Dick was immediately on his feet and putting his hands on Damian shoulder almost as fast as the Flash could have.

"Hey, Lil' D, how you feeling?" he asked, concerned. Damian swat his hands away and drank the water greedily. Tim walked over and the three of them waited for him to finish.

"Father has been taken." He said simply, putting the glass down. "We must hurry. The imbeciles disclosed the location they were taking him to while they thought I was indisposed."

"Really?" Tim asked, surprised.

"Like I said, imbeciles. Imbeciles with tech that momentarily disabled Father and I while they striped us of our weapons, then proceeded to take him while they knocked me out. It was some sort of sonic gun they used at first. It completely rendered us incapable for moments. Long enough for them to remove our things and do enough damage to Father and I to make escape difficult. The taser used on Father was high grade, definitely not easily obtained."

Dick chuckled lightly. "Sounds painful, but Batman could easily disable these weapons with enough time and energy. And he needs us to rescue him?"

The young Robin's face held no emotion as he replied. "Probably not. But we cannot ignore the possibility that whoever supplied them with these weapons has others,. These men were obviously trying to kill him. They were taking him to the docks to finish the job, and whoever is in charge could be present and more capable."

Tim shifted uncomfortably. "Then why are we wasting time? Let's go!"

"Young Master, I insist that you stay here and rest. A mild concussion or not is still a concussion." Alfred piped in, authoritatively. "Master Dick and Tim can handle this alone."

Damian hissed. "My head does throb, so if you insist. I'm sure Grayson and someone as incapable as Drake could handle it fine."

"You're so encouraging." Tim mumbled and Alfred gave Damian a disapproving look.

"Tell us where we're going Lil' D." Dick ordered as he headed towards the bikes.

"I'll tell you if you promise to stop calling me that."

Dick laughed hard. "No promises."

Despite what many people would think, not many of Batman's super villains wanted Batman dead. Not fighting crime? Yes. But dead, not so much. Ra's al Ghul found Batman not only a worthy opponent, but really at this point had to consider killing him out of the question due to family matters. Joker, as much as he loved killing Robin's wouldn't dream of getting rid of his favorite play toy. Two-Face had only a 50/50 chance of wanting to kill him at any moment, so that was unpredictable. Other villains were locked up, and a few loose...but the list gets smaller when you involve high tech.

Nowhere in Gotham was silent at night, especially the docks. But when they reached the place that Damian had said they were going, it was practically empty. The workers had either been scared off or paid off.

Inside the shipping warehouse, a hole in the floor had been blasted open. It lead directly into the current that swept right into the middle of the bay. Directly hanging over it was Batman, covered nearly head to toe in heavy chains. Standing on a platform nearly thirty feet away was a man, completely covered in black with little more than his eyes showing. He stood, holding a device. Probably what controlled the thing that held Batman suspended in air. The whole scene was so cliche, Nightwing balked.

"It isn't personal Batman, but I couldn't refuse the money." The figure continued from the monologue he must have started before Tim and Dick snuck into the warehouse. His voice was thick with an eastern european accent. "With what I'll be getting with your demise, I could easily build my kingdom."

"Tell me who is giving you the money, and maybe I'll find a way to match it." Batman asked. Nightwing smirked.

"Sorry, confidentiality," the man replied with an air of boredom.

"I'd like to know who has a price on my head before I die. Or is your client scared that if I don't die I'll go after him?"

Nightwing could almost hear the humor in his voice. He relaxed knowing that Batman had the situation under control.

"You wish," the man said as he released the button. "I will not be failing today."

Nightwing readied himself as Batman took the plunge. Tim, as quietly as they had entered, had started to move towards the man who held their mentor captive. A large splash was heard as the chains hit the water. Batman's escape could have hardly been seen by an untrained eye.

All hell broke loose.

The hefty thugs that surrounded the man made pool jumped into action. The captor above hardly seemed surprised, and had an aura of anger and amusement. "Get him!" He shouted and the thugs were onto Batman within seconds. Nightwing came out of hiding and grappled his way down to join the the fray. Tim emerged from the shadows and attacked the boss.

As soon as Nightwing hit the ground, he heard a loud screeching in his ears that brought him to the floor. If he didn't know better, he would have guess Black Canary's imaginary cousin was there. Swiftly he pressed a button on the contraption covering his ears and he was fine. He pulled out an extra set for Batman, who was also struggling on the floor as the thugs (who were apparently wearing something similar) kicked at him. Surprisingly, Batman was getting up and attacking, despite what Nightwing had experienced as uncontrollable pain and disorientation. But he was The Batman, after all.

After making eye contact with Bruce, Dick threw him the earpiece and began attacking the thugs, keeping in mind the tasers they were pulling out. He took a second to look over at how Tim was faring.

Red Robin, though up to par couldn't land a man in black had some serious training, and hardly looked concerned that he was being attacked. In between punches and kicks from Tim he would spout out another order.

"Nightwing!" he heard, suddenly in his ear, after he went back to fighting the thugs. The thugs, though idiots as Damian had pointed out, were quick, strong and well equipped.

"Red?" he relayed, confirming he heard.

"He's got another plan. He just motioned to another man across the warehouse, southeast corner. He's sounding pretty confident. I've got my hands full."

"On it." Nightwing replied, flipping over a few guys and looking in the direction Tim had indicated. A man was sitting the rafters, with some sort of large gun aimed.

Before he could ascertain much more than that, or go after him, he heard a loud slam in the direction Tim and the black clad dude were fighting. He looked around to see what had happened, while keeping some attention on the man with the gun, waiting for another signal or movement.

The man in charge had Tim on the ground on the platform, his large boot on the ex Robin's chest, a small gun aimed at his head. Tim was sluggishly rolling his head side to side.

"Call in all the backup you want, Batman. I'll still get what I want. The collateral even makes it easier," he said, with the same amusement/anger he was talking in before. Sometimes that is what scared a hero the most. If the bad guy thought he was winning, even if it looked like he wasn't, there was usually something he knew that you didn't.

Then Nightwing remembered the gun.

Batman had paused momentarily. "Let him go, Trafkensk."

Trafkensk? The name was familiar, but he couldn't place the name to anyone.

"Don't worry, Batman. You won't care for much longer." As he said that, his eyes flickered upwards and he made a small signal with his hand. Nightwing hadn't even realized till that moment that he was already moving in the direction of Batman. There were a lot of thoughts running through his head, though. He should have just taken the gunman out when he had the chance, instead of getting distracted by his little brother getting pummeled. That sounded a lot easier to say that do, though. Really, he didn't think he had more than a split second to get between the gun and his father. He doubted the bullet could pierce his kevlar suit, but with it aimed assuredly at Batman's heart, he was sure his shoulder would be a safer place for impact if the bullet was made of something stronger. Batman could have also known about the gunman, and moved in time...but Nightwing really didn't want to take the chance. This man was out for Batman's blood, and he would not have it.

Before he could even be slightly relieved that he made it in time, and that his efforts had not been in vain because Batman was only turning around at the sound of the gun firing, he recognized that whatever had been shot was indeed not a regular bullet.

His last thought as pain erupted from every single cell in his body was that if this didn't end up killing him, Batman most assuredly would.

Ok, this should hopefully be the last chapter I have to painfully write. I don't care who the badguy is or what he's doing. I don't care about the action scenes in this. So...I was in a hurry to write something plausible and could get a plot. Really, I know it sucks. Deal.