So, as I mentioned last chapter, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice. If I had enough funds to buy Young Justice, I'd probably use the money for college.

Chapter 3

The first thing Dick registered when he woke up was that he was not under a blanket. The next thing he registered was that Peanut was missing. Finally, he realized that he was not laying on the soft, heavenly surface of his rather large bed or the less heavenly, but still soft beds at either the Cave or Wally's house. In fact, he didn't seem to be on a bed at all. Dick clamped down on his groan so as to not inform the kidnappers, because he was sure he had been kidnapped, of his wakefulness. Groggily, the boy kept the position that he woke up in and tried to get a taste of his surroundings.

The air smelled rather musty, but no scents came immediately to mind. He focused, and made out a thin oil smell, and maybe hay? No, not dry enough. Wheat flour? Yeah, maybe that. So, maybe he was in a restaurant backroom? He could work with that, but… the sounds weren't right. There was a loud, constant humming sound, and crunching gravel, then a whooshing sound, and back to the crunching gravel, kind of like a highway. He could also hear muffled country music and voices. There was a large bump and Dick was thrown upwards, hitting what felt like hollow metal.

Ok. That confirmed it. He was in a car, probably the trunk if his analysis was correct. It certainly didn't feel like a cushioned seat. Deciding that the likelihood of someone else being in the trunk with him was zero to none, Dick slowly forced his eyes open… to meet utter darkness. He blinked a few times to see if that would help, but there was no improvement and he noticed that his eyelashes seemed to be brushing against something. He figured that he probably had a blindfold on. He could confirm or reject that theory later, but it seemed solid to him.

Dick moved to assess his other body parts. His wrists were bound firmly behind his back with very little give. The rope was itchy, and hurt when he moved his wrists, so he let it be. Further investigation revealed that his ankles were tied with the same rope, albeit less firmly. He moved to lick his lips and found similar rope blocking his mouth. Great, bound, blindfolded, and gagged. Just his luck. This sucked.

Dick thought back to that morning. He and Wally had talked on the phone before school, and agreed to call when the bet was over, mostly so Dick could gloat. They knew Artemis would be so confused, but Dick personally didn't care. She could be confused. He truly believed he would win. He wondered whether he or Wally had actually won. The bet was over at 5:23, but he was in the middle of a fight that ended with a kidnapping at that point. Huh. They'd have to call it a draw, when he got back. Wally probably knew he was missing by now.

Dick wondered what the ransom would be this time. They had been getting more and more ridiculous lately, but Bruce often had a way of retrieving the money and throwing the kidnappers in jail in the past. Maybe these guys would be modest. The media never reported the amounts of ransom, choosing to ignore that number, so as to not piss off Bruce Wayne by seemingly challenging the kidnappers. His last ransom had been $5 million, and the kidnappers, both men and women, had not hesitated to beat the shit out of him. He came home with five broken bones, three cracked bones, a shattered pointer finger, and too many cuts and bruises to count. Those men—and women—were now spending time at Arkham, in a nice cell right next to the Joker. Bruce didn't mess around.

The car passed over another bump, and then another and another, and slowed to a stop. Dick steadied his breathing and closed his eyes. He figured he could go along with the kidnappers until he was outside and then kick them in the face, get the blindfold off, and run for it. Car doors slammed, but no one came around to the trunk. In fact, the footsteps were fading away. A bunch of voices got louder and then faded like a door had been opened and closed. There was silence around Dick. He waited patiently, but no one came. He furrowed his eyebrows and listened hard.

Yep, nothing.

Dick decided to take advantage of the lack of kidnappers and attempt to get out. Moving carefully, he maneuvered his hands over his legs and in front of him. It hurt slightly, but worked. His hands immediately moved to the blindfold. After tugging and pulling on the duct tape, he was able to get it off enough to see slightly, but was unable to get it completely off. They had done an unusually good job of taping it on. Seriously, he though, they might have even done as well as the psycho kidnapping of '08. That blindfold took Superman's laser vision to get completely off. Did these people want him to be blind for life?

He used what little sight he had and started searching for a switch to open the trunk. There was often at least one in old cars, and the trunk didn't feel very big. As he searched, he made sure to make plenty of noise in case someone who was not his kidnappers was walking by.

Dick smiled around his gag when his hand lit upon an inlet, but then stopped smiling when he realized that the hole was where a button to open the trunk used to be, not where one currently was. He shifted getting closer, leaning against the trunk roof, in order to get a better grip. No good. He tugged, and pulled, and pushed, but nothing happened to the trunk. It was stuck. Dick imagined it was so stuck that it would take a crowbar to open the trunk. That wasn't encouraging.

Dick took as deep a breath as he could and gave up trying to open the trunk. He decided that he would prepare to run when the trunk was, in fact, opened. He pulled his ankles close to his wrists and started working the ropes off. The tightness of the ropes around his wrists increased the difficulty of the task by preventing his fingers from being too nimble, but he managed to get the job done. Ankles unbound, Dick waited. Occasionally thumped the trunk loudly. And waited, Eventually, he fell into a light doze.

Several hours later, footsteps returned to the car. The doors opened, and slammed shut, causing Dick to jerk awake. To his disappointment, the car began to inch forward, turned a few times, and moved onto, based on the sound he could hear from the ground, the on ramp for the freeway. The tires churned gravel and concrete and the car shot forward with an acceleration so fast that it caused Dick to bang against the back of the trunk.

He led loose a moan, but no one gave any indication that they heard him.

16,692 seconds later, the car pulled off the highway, and onto a dirt road. Dick bumped around even more in the trunk as they moved over the uneven surface. If the trunk hadn't been slightly padded, as Dick had discovered around 3,456 seconds, he would have had a multitude of bruises. By the time the car pulled to a stop, Dick was more than ready for the world to stop shaking. He prepared himself to make a run for it, although he worried that they had driven too far from civilization for him to reach help.

It wouldn't have been the first time, but he had great survival skills because of that first time it happened. After being stuck in the woods for a couple days, and almost dying from an infection and poison berries that Bruce luckily managed to stop him from eating, Batman decreed that both Robin and Robin, Jr (as Wally had dubbed Jason) would have an intensive wilderness survival lesson with everything from no supplies but those that nature provided to everything they should have with them at all times. When Flash heard about it, it took him all of five seconds to decide that, no matter what Batman said, Kid Flash was going too. Speedy, for he was Speedy then not Red Arrow, also joined. He'd grown up on a Native American Reserve, so he knew a lot about wilderness survival, but he could still learn more and teach his little brothers.

Footsteps approached the back of the car and Dick coiled his body to spring out the second a sizeable gap appeared. He heard a metal tool being lifted—huh, he was right. They did need a crowbar—and the trunk cracked open. Dick leapt into action. He head butted the man directly in front of him and spun around. Quickly taking in his surroundings, he headed for the woods, wincing once from his lack of shoes or socks.

Running full sprint with partial visual coverage, he didn't register the arm that swung out until it was too late. He crashed directly into it, and cursed the KF rashness that had led him to believe this was a good plan. He scrambled to his feet, to get up and run again, but a pair of hands grabbed him around the middle and clenched his arms, pulling him from the ground and ignoring his struggles as he screamed for help through the gag. How did he forget to take that off? A silent figure, the one who must have hit him, moved forward from the tree line. He was wearing a mask. Dick decided to call him Dingbat 1.

"Shut up, brat." A voice, who Dick decided would be Dingbat 2, said behind him. Dick increased his struggling and wails, but someone, Dingbat 3 because Dingbat 2 hadn't let go of him and Dingbat 1 was still in front of him, hit him the back of the head. He quieted at the hit, but continued to struggle a second later.

"Don't we have sedatives?" Dingbat 2 growled with a grunt after Dick managed to land an elbow blow on him.

"We do, but we need him awake for the ransom call."

"We need him alive, not awake." Dick stilled his struggles. If there was going to be a ransom call, there was a chance to tell Bruce where he was. He needed to be awake to do that. "Hmm. That got his attention. Shut up and don't move, brat, or you won't be able to say hi to Daddy."

The Dingbats moved inside a damp, dark shack and set Dick down into a chair with arm rests. Dingbat 3 grabbed Dick's forearms firmly, holding them level with his face as Dingbat 2 let go of him. Dingbat 2 removed the rope from Dick's wrists, to his relief.

Before Dick could do anything to help himself, Dingbat 3 slammed his arms onto the armrest and pushed down on them so hard that Dick was sure it would bruise. Dick reciprocated by kicking Dingbat 3 in a very tender area. Dingbat 3 gave an unmanly yelp and loosened his grip a small bit in reaction to the pain. Not enough for Dick to get out of the grip, but enough to make him feel better. A second later, Dingbat 3 recovered and squeezed his arms harder than before. Heh. At least he tried. Dingbat 2 rebound Dick's wrists firmly, and then tied a rope around his waist and another around his ankles. Meanwhile, Dingbat 1 was setting up a camera.

As the ropes were bound around, Dick noticed something… his clothes were missing. Well, not all his clothes—he still had his boxers and there was something resting on his head—but his school uniform, socks, shoes, and watch were gone. Goosebumps abounded on his arms as wind roared against the side of the shack. He supposed that meant that his belt was gone too. He just hoped that no one had seen it when they took his clothes off. It was hidden in a secret pouch, but they could still potentially find it.

"He took part of the blindfold off. Should I take it off and put a new one on, or just add to the one we have?" Dingbat… 2, he thought, asked. They had shifted. Still hadn't gotten the voices straight with the faces. The blindfold covering part of his vision didn't help. As if that wasn't enough, they kept moving. The Dingbats were too unstill. It was annoying.

"Take it off. We're all wearing masks, and Daddy might want to see baby brat's eyes." If the other one was Dingbat 2, then this one was Dingbat 3 talking. Dingbat 1, the guy who had yet to speak, grunted in agreement. So he could make sound. "Be careful though. Don't rip his hair out." Dick closed his eyes as Dingbat 2 carefully removed the rest of the blindfold from Dick's eyes. When it was fully removed, he opened them and blinked a few times to sharpen his vision, and then carefully took in his surroundings in greater detail.

All three men were clad in dark clothing and combat boots with a ski mask covering their entire head except their eyes. The lighting in the shack was dim, so Dick had trouble making out any specifics like eye color or loose hair color. It didn't help that the men were purposefully avoiding his eyes. Dingbat 1 was the shortest, and judging by lack of bulk, seemed to have the least muscle mass. Dingbat 2 and 3 looked almost identical with similar builds and heights. They were off by maybe an inch. That didn't help in telling them apart visually.

The camera, which Dingbat 1 was setting up, was a small, handheld video camera, ancient by today's standards, but able to do the job. Dick's heart sank as he realized that the video camera was the kind that filmed to a tape, rather than filmed live. He wouldn't be able to talk to Bruce. More accurately, Dick thought as he remembered the gag cutting into his lips, Bruce wouldn't be able to speak with him. Dick might not have been able to speak to him anyways, but it would have felt good to hear Bruce's voice.

Dick tore his eyes from the video camera when the Dingbats, appropriate name, he decided, because of the black clothing, moved to aid with the set up. Seeing no immediate danger, Dick observed the rest of the room. The shack was average sized for a shack. It was dark and damp, as he already mentioned. He could faintly see a pull chain for a light bulb that the men were currently in favor of ignoring. The walls were made of folded metal. There was little in the room besides Dick and his chair, the camera, and the Dingbats, but Dick could see some rusted garden tools in the corner of the shack. Those would come in handy in another escape attempt. So would the chair. Although, he kicked experimentally at the leg and the chair didn't budge; there wasn't any give. The chair might be bolted down. He leaned forward as much as he could, mindful of his bindings. It was pretty far, all things considered. He looked down at the legs of the chair and saw bolts nailed into the floor. So much for using the chair.

"Hey!" Dingbat 3 called, glancing back at Dick and seeing that he was pretty far from the position they wanted him in. Dick's head popped up as Dingbat 3 took a step towards Dick (that's how small the space was), grabbed Dick's shoulders, and slammed him back into position. Dick gave a little squeak at the sudden move.

"Give me more rope," he demanded, keeping one hand on Dick and holding the other behind him for the rope. Dingbat 2 put a long length of rope into Dingbat 3's free hand, and Dingbat 3 set to work binding Dick's chest and back to the chair back. Dick held his breath to loosen the ropes, like he had seen a horse do once. Also knowing the trick, Dingbat 3 punched Dick in the stomach, causing him to lose his breath. Dingbat 3 pulled the rope tight, and then let go and admired his handiwork. "Try to move around that, brat," he muttered loud enough for Dick to hear. Dick wisely decided not to test it.

Dingbat 3 seemed to think of something, and then grabbed two small black mittens with the thumb tied off. He forced Dick to ball up his hands, then pulled the mittens, which were actually kids' mittens and too small, on. There was a drawstring on the side. Dingbat 3 pulled it tight and locked it into place. He checked the tautness of the ropes for any give. Not finding any, he sent a look towards his peers.

"We're ready." Dingbat 2 stated, answering the unspoken question. Dick tensed, eyes switching between the men in front of him. Dingbat 3 pulled the drawstring, and light flooded the room. The camera clicked on.

A/N

Aaaaaannnddd Scene! Please Review. Flames will be used to make s'mores and all comments will be used to improve future chapters.

For those who are curious, 16,692 seconds is 4 hours, 38 minutes, and 12 seconds. I originally put 300,692 seconds, but then I realized that that's at least three and a half days… They would have stopped for the night again long before that and no one can count for that long without falling asleep, or getting incredibly bored and stopping. The first time the car stopped, they were stopping for the night at a inn off the highway. It was about 1 am, but there were still people up because the inn was connected to a Tavern... Yeah, I put way too much thought into this. They left the inn around 5 or 6 am. Dick didn't actually have a chance to get someone's attention because they parked pretty far away and people can dismiss thumps as their imagination at that time of night/morning.

I'm considering writing a short story about the Psycho Kidnapping of '08, but that won't come for a long time if I do write it.

I've had a couple questions about the picture for this story. I was looking through my photos for a suitable one, and happened upon a photo of a sock that I decorated last year. I put it up because of this chapter. It will change when I come up with a good design and get to a point in the story where it will make sense.

I got into College! :)

The next chapter will be out around New Year's. I'm not going to be near my computer for a week starting Friday, and I'm not satisfied with the next chapter yet. Don't let that stop you from reviewing! Happy Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, New Year's, Winter Break, whatever you celebrate! :)