A/N: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, and all of our kind reviews! You all motivated me to finish up this chapter!
Rated T: for vague description of injury and language.
Nightwing's arms went lax, and he fell to the side as he welcomed the darkness that previously threatened to overwhelm him.
Jason was out of breath.
Being the protege of the Dark Knight, he's spent hours straight going through rigorous training and sparring until he passed out, but right now, Jason was panting as he ran down the labyrinth of endless fucking hallways because he was pushing his limits in his brothers were down here, probably doing something stupid, was enough for him to rush to their last location as quickly as possible.
Jason could see that Tim was probably just as worried as he was, not that either of them would admit. He and Red Robin ran at the same pace, with Batman following close behind watching their backs. All three had activated their night-vision features in they're respective masks to avoid running in the pitch black halls. In Jason's peripheral vision he could see Tim glance at the map on his wrist computer before every sharp turn they took as they ran.
They continued running for a few minutes before they eventually came to a stop at a dividing hallway.
Red Hood looked at Red Robin expectantly.
Pressing a few keys on his wrist computer, Red Robin pulled up the holo-map from earlier before speaking to them, looking back and forth between the hallways. "They definitely went down the right, but past here; they could be anywhere." He closed the computer once again before jogging down the hallway, the Bats close behind.
The Batfamily Fund, as Dickhead called it, allows for a satellite to always keep their tracking devices, comms, and computers connected; however, like most satellites, they have their limits in range. Goldie and Hell-spawn were god knows how many feet under, to where the million fucking dollar satellite couldn't even get a damn trace on his brothers. As soon as they were far out enough, they lost them.
The three bats reached the end of the corridor where the hallways were split once again.
The Red Hood lightly pushed past Red Robin and trained the lenses of his helmet down the halls and activated the infrared feature. Maybe, just maybe, his brothers left a trail of heat they can track.
Nightwing and Robin's last communication had been only twenty minutes before. All three have tried hailing them through the comm since then, but the depth of the sub-levels were interfering with the signal.
With the infrared detector, Jason saw the temperatures the items in sight were giving off. The hallways were blue, indicating that it was cold and unused. Being so deep in the ground and the lack of any ventilation system, the place was like a giant-ass refrigerator. Any heat signature would be long gone at this point.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath and deactivating the thermal vision.
"Batman. What are you doing?" Jason looked over at Red Robin wondering what he was referring to. Behind him Batman's fingers were tapping rapidly on the keys of his wrist computer.
Not looking up, Batman continued to work, "I'm attempting to activate UHF radio wave transmitter to wirelessly connect my wrist computer with Nightwing's, assuming we're in close enough proximity to each other to do so; however, the thickness of the walls may interfere with the transmission. We'd have to be close enough."
Jason hesitated, "So like a Bluetooth? If it can find a device, you can track it?"
"Precisely."
"What's the range," Red Robin asked as he glanced between hallways.
"One hundred meters." Before the two could say anything further, Batman turned and sprinted down the hallways, with the others close behind.
Jonathan Crane surrounded by a circle of his hires welcomed the bitter-cold Gotham night as they made their way out of a building a few miles out of the warehouse they were previously in. A hire opened the back door to a sleek black, dark tinted limo and Crane stepped inside only to meet the face of his employer.
The figure wore black, leather like clothing underneath a large black cloak that wrapped around their body. The hood over their head covered their face. "Did you succeed," the figure asked, not looking up.
Removing his burlap sack, Crane responded, "Of course. Nightwing was injected with the toxin. It is only a matter of time before it takes affect."
"What measures were taken to ensure your concoction will not be detected before then," they continued in a monotonous voice.
"I had a means to mislead them," Crane said as he leaned back into his chair. The figure nodded minutely, encouraging him to continue. "I released an altered version of my original toxin. The toxin in the air has delayed effects, but also a component intended to suppress the agents of the toxin that was directly injected into the boy."
Crane smirked, folding his hands together, "They won't know it until it's too late."
Tim continued to remain alert as he and Jason followed closely behind Bruce as he made sharp turns as they ran. Although in costume, they weren't heroes at the moment: They were a worried family. The men Jason had listened to earlier suggested that Crane and all of his men were prepared for their arrival, having predicted every move before they made them. He recalled what was relayed to him; Make the grab? They just need Nightwing? They knew exactly where each of them would be and planned accordingly.
Sure, Jonathan Crane was a mad genius, but he was first and foremost a scientist, mostly focused on biochemistry and psychology. Tim just knew there was a higher-up involved.
The detective in him attempted to run through possible options in his head, but the brother continued to drag him down with worry. Whoever was behind this knew how the batfamily operated, otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to predict that Nightwing and Robin would be making the bust while the rest of them remained in stealth outside; they wouldn't have been able to predict Batman's plan so accurately.
Based on Tim's years of experience, he knew kidnapping wasn't Crane's M.O. and having a counter-plan as extensive as this one wasn't either. He also knew that the amount of hires he had throughout the property was far more than he knew he could afford. Gathering as much men as he had, and the amount of weapons would have taken much longer, unless they were paid enough. Crane had just gotten out of Arkham, and he's only been out for a few weeks, yet he possessed the means to create a new formula, and access to a grand facility that must've been built on the down-low for years. Whoever it was, they likely had access to a large fund, and they went through all this trouble for Nightwing. What could they possibly want with Nightwing, and why did they want Crane to execute their plan?
The blackness of the hallway gradually diminished as they approached the dim light at the end of the corridor, suggesting that there was a wider, illuminated space directly ahead of them.
"Wake up! You fool!" Red Robin quickened his pace as he listened to the distressed plea that echoed through the concrete walls.
The three came to a stop at the entrance of an open doorway that lead to a catwalk that overlooked the wide space. From their level of the catwalk, the rafters that stretched throughout the higher level, and built around the support beans, could be seen.
Looking down, Tim could see the fading reminisce of a pale green fog originating from the center of the room. In the midst of that fog, he make out the silhouette of Robin crouched over a seemingly unconscious Nightwing layed out on the floor.
"Rebreathers. Both of you," Batman said as he placed his own rebreather in his mouth and ran down the rafter closest to the left side of the room. "Hood. You're with me. We may still be able to catch Crane. Red Robin; check on Nightwing and Robin."
As Red Hood ran after Batman, Red Robin jumped down from the rafter above the center of the room and dropped beside his brothers.
Dick was sprawled out on the floor, eyes shut. Unlike their past experiences with fear toxin, Nightwing's face appeared to be relaxed, almost like he was sleeping peacefully and not having the usual fitful nightmares the toxin was known to induce.
Red Robin saw that Robin had too had a rebreather in his mouth. The distress was clearly written on the kid's face as Damian pressed his hands on Dick's shoulders, attempting to shake him awake.
"Robin," Red Robin stated calmly in order to grab the youngest's attention, but he didn't look up. "Robin," he tried again. "You're going to hurt him."
It was likely he already was. Up close, Dick didn't look so good. Although his face was relaxed and seemingly free of pain, angry, dark bruises could be seen on his upper right cheek bone that stretched over to the eye on that side, and a split lip below that. The sleeve on his left arm had a portion torn out, revealing a gun shot wound that appeared to still be bleeding.
Tim cursed under his breath, then checked his pulse with one hand as he pulled pressure bandages from his belt with the other. Robin, surprisingly, didn't protest as Red Robin gently pushed him aside and started dressing the wound.
"Did you administer the anti-toxin," Red Robin asked as he continued to work to stop the bleeding.
He could hear Robin shuffle slightly in his position crouched slightly behind him.
"Yes," he stated after a moment. "Just as father instructed, but why has he not awaken yet? He should be awake, yes?" Panic began to creep into his voice, not that the Demon would admit.
It was times like this that Tim actually thought the kid was adorable. Sure, he tried to keep the tough guy act up all the time, but in reality, he was still a kid; and things like watching your battered brother lie unconscious as he bleeds out is really not something a kid should see. He really emphasized with Damian in that respect. He was worried. They've all seen things they shouldn't have too young. The kid was tough, and they've grown to get along over the past year after Bruce came back. Sure, he was still a little shit, but he was less of a shit.
"I don't know, kid. Did you breathe any of it in," Red Robin asked as he jutted his chin towards the machine that gradually stopped releasing the green fog into the air.
Robin shook his head, "No. I had a spare rebreather and placed it in my mouth before I could. I dropped the one I had earlier." His eyes were trained on Nightwing's face. "I retrieved Nightwing's spare as well, but he had already breathed it in. It would have been useless at that point."
Red Robin nodded. "Are you injured?" Tim prodded Nightwing's chest, assessing his injuries.
Robin shook his head. "I am fine. What about Grayson?"
Raising his brow, Tim considered reprimanding him for using his name on the field. Damian was usually the one yelling at everyone about that. He must've been really panicked for him to slip up. He studied the youngest for any injuries, but he was up and talking so he didn't think any injuries he had were at all life threatening.
"I'm guessing he has a few bruised ribs. A few cracked. Two broken at the most." Red Robin trained his eyes on Nightwing's face, then pressed two fingers on the right side of his neck, checking for a pulse once again. "I don't know why he isn't waking up. Pulse is normal." As he pulled his fingers away from his neck, his eyes caught sight of a small red dot, leaving a thin line of blood trailing down the left side of his neck, surrounded by a pale bruise about an inch and a half in diameter.
Tim's eyes widened slightly behind his mask. "Shit, Robin. Did you inject him in the neck?" Injecting directly into the neck could be potentially dangerous. If Damian accidentally incorrectly punctured one of Dick's carotid ateries, he could've bled out, or prevented blood from flowing to his brain.
Damian was physically taken back. "What?! Of course not! I told you; I injected him as father instructed! I injected him here," he held his arm out, palm up, gestering to the crook of his elbow to demonstrate where he administered the anti-toxin. "Crane's men did that!"
Brows furrowed, Red Robin attempted to wake his brother up. Pulling a small light from his belt, Tim used his right hand to hold open Dick's eyelid as the other shinned the light to test pupil reaction.
"Concussion. Minor one by the looks of it. Why'd they inject him when they had an already airborne toxin?" Putting the light back in it's place, Red Robin placed a hand on either side of Nightwing's face as he lightly slapped him.
"Come on, buddy. Wake up. You're freaking Robin out." Beside him, Robin scoffed. Tim didn't have to turn around to know he probably crossed his arms and was pouting.
For a few minutes, Red Robin continued to attempt to awaken his brother, even bringing out smelling salts, as Robin sat closely behind, but to no avail.
"You're not hitting him hard enough." The two looked up to see Red Hood crouch beside them.
"I don't want to hurt him," Red Robin stated, brows furrowed in annoyance.
Jason scoffed, "He looks like shit. He's going to be hurting anyways." Before either of them could stop him, Jason wound his open palm back and launched it downwards onto Dick's face.
A loud, SMACK! echoed throughout the walls of the large space.
"Hey! Jay, what the fuck?!" Red Robin exclaimed as he caught Red Hood's hand before he could release another powerful slap on Nightwing's unsuspecting face.
The Red Hood turned towards Red Robin, his hand still lifted above his face and Tim's hand still holding it in place, "You got a better idea, Replacement," he growled in more annoyance than anger.
Reluctantly, Tim released his hand, and Jason released another powerful slap.
Thankfully this time, Nightwing sat up upon impact.
"Holy-! Gah," Dick used one hand to cup the right side of his face, where Jason had just slapped him into next week.
Ha, Jason thought as he smiled smugly as he removed his helmet, seeing as the fog cleared up. I knew that would work. He turned towards Tim as if to say, "I told you so."
Nightwing now sat upright, his legs out straight out in front of him. Dick blinked rapidly and looked around, his eyes finding his brothers.
A look of pure confusion crossed his features, replaced almost instantly with a grimace in pain as he doubled over and crossed his arms over his chest, grabbing at this midsection.
Red Hood and Red Robin grabbed his shoulders on either side, easing his grip on himself. "Hey, calm down," Tim began calmly. "You may have broken a rib or two. Don't move too much." Together, they maneuvered him to lean back onto a leg of one of the tables.
Dick whined over dramatically, as he tried to calm his erratic breathing. "Holy mother of - Was I...hit by a...semi," he struggled between breaths.
"-tt-" All three of them looked to Damian. "Do you really think a semi could fit down here? That car must have hit you pretty hard," he smiled slightly as he removed the rebreather from his mouth, probably deeming it safe after Jason removed his helmet.
Beside him Tim snorted, and Jason himself tried not to laugh. Did the kid really just tell a joke? That's fucking adorable.
All three remained on the floor, semi-surrounding Nightwing as he shifted in an attempt to alleviate the pressure on his ribs. Jason looked back at Dick, whose eyes were wide in astonishment. "Robin, did you really just...you did. You did." Dick blinked a few more times. "That was funny. You told a joke."
Red Robin shook his head and rolled his eyes fondly at his older brother's antics. "Red Hood, where's Batman?"
"He'll be here in a minute. We found another access tunnel hidden behind a wall of crates," he gestured in the general direction of where Batman was. "We tried following Crane's escape route, but he's long gone. Bats sent me back to check on you."
As if on cue, Batman jumped down from a high stack of crates and looked down on his sons. His gaze shifted to all of them. "Are you all alright," he asked as he took a knee beside Nightwing.
"Just peachy, Bats," Jason responded sarcastically.
Batman ignored the sarcasm, and furrowed his brows, "Why are you all not wearing your rebreathers? This area was just infested with toxin," he practically growled.
"Relax, Bats," Jason began as he stood up. "The three of us took them off after it seemed like it was all cleared."
Batman glowered even further, now looking up at his second son from his crouched position beside Nightwing. "Seemed clear. Residual chemicals may still be in the air."
Jason waved his hand dismissively, "Relax, we're more than likely fine. Even if we did breath it in, we should be fine. Dickface looks fine to me," he gestured to Nightwing still leaning his back on the table.
"Yup," Dick stated with gritted teeth. "Peachy...Absolutely," Dick forced a smile through clenched teeth, but it looked pained rather than reassuring. His failed attempt to lighten the mood was almost humorous, if it were not for the situation, Batman may have smiled, but probably not.
Looking at his battered son, Bruce placed a hand on the shoulder of his uninjured arm, and placed two fingers on the side of his neck, and flashing a light in his eyes, following the same check-up routine Tim had done only minutes before, only this time asking a plethora of questions as he tried to completely assess the extent of his injuries. Grabbing his chin, Bruce turned Dick's face completely to one side, now studying the bruise on his neck.
Dick attempted to wave him off the entire time. "I'm fine," he said as he focused on the lenses of Batman's mask. A look that said, stop worrying.
Batman glared, then stood up, Red Robin and Robin following suit. Batman's eyes looked at his youngest son. He focused his gaze on him to access injuries. Aside from heavy bruising and a split lip on his face, he seemed relativity fine. He noticed his tense stance and took note to have Alfred access his injuries further when they arrived home. "Robin, go out ahead and prepare the Batmobile. Alert Agent A that we need him to treat injuries and prepare a toxicity test."
Robin nodded tersely before running in the direction of the door.
The Dark Knight turned back to his sons. "Help him outside. I'll remain here and collect samples."
Red Hood and Red Robin stood on either side of Nightwing and gently hoisted him up and positioned him where he had either arm on either of his brother's shoulders.
Red Hood shifted his position in an attempt to make him more comfortable. "You're lucky we even found you two as soon as we did," he said as they began to walk at a slow pace towards the door.
Nightwing's brows furrowed in confusion, "Why didn't you just follow the lights in the hallways?"
Red Hood exchanged a look with Red Robin. "What do you mean? what lights," Red Robin asked studying his brother's face.
"The emergency lights down the hallways. That's what me and Damian were following to get down here."
Shaking his head, Red Hood slowed his pace more to match Nightwing's. "Wing, there were no lights. It was completely dark heading down here."
Nightwing hummed in thought. "That's weird. Maybe Crane turned them off to stall you all from getting to us."
"Probably just enough time to stab that needle into you and then gas up the room," Jason said absentmindedly. "Which begs the question: Why the fuck aren't you flipping your shit? Didn't Crane just shoot you up with drugs?"
Nightwing rolled his eyes. "Jay, you make it sound like i'm on drugs."
"I meaaaan -" Jason began, but Nightwing cut him off before he could continue. "I don't know, alright. Whatever he gave me, it's probably not working. Good news for us, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Batman listened to his sons conversation up until they left the area. Looking at the contents of the table, the World's Greatest Detective began to collect samples and placing them into his belt. Pulling out a miniature camera, he took pictures of larger items, and stashing any papers left around.
Jonathan Crane was no idiot. He was an experienced chemist who, by the looks of it, had every means to create a concoction more extensive than anything he's ever made before. Whatever toxin he created would not have simply failed.
He was going to get to the bottom of this, then he was going to chastise his oldest son for being so damn careless.