A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice

Voila. Le ransom.

Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt suggested that I use numbers when talking about the individual Dingbats instead of saying "Dingbat 1." Let me know which way you like better, please.

Chapter 5

Bruce had the VCR set up with his office TV and was fiddling with Dick's watch, by the time Alfred and Commissioner Gordon, as well as a few officers arrived. Wally had arrived one minute ago, with Artemis in tow so as to not look suspicious. He was pacing. Jason had texted him the news. Bruce looked up as they walked in, put the watch down with the rest of Dick's stuff, and grabbed a hold of Jason's shoulder.

"A VCR tape?" the Commissioner asked. Bruce nodded in response.

"Ok. Play." He said, and the officer who'd initially been guarding the office pushed the play button.

The video opened, with shaky graphics, on Dick. Bruce sucked in a breath at his son's condition. He was firmly bound to a metal chair around the wrists, ankles, waist, and chest, and gagged as well. There were bruises on his arms and beginning to form near his wrists, as well as one on his right cheek. His clothes had already been removed in the picture, and he was shivering in only his boxers, and some weird black material that was hiding his hands, almost like mittens. Kid Flash's bright red goggles were sitting atop his head, for some reason, causing Wally to suck in a breath. Artemis recognized them as well.

"Hey, why does he have your goggles? I thought that you know who had them." Bruce shot Wally a look that clearly said "Watch yourself."

"Uh, they're probably just similar goggles. Or something to screw with us." He indicated with his eyes to the police in the room, who had paused the video, and were observing the exchange between the teens. "Continue." Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, feeling that they were hiding something, but nodded to the officer to do so.

A man in dark clothing with a thick, black ski mask moved behind Dick. The boy attempted to keep him in his sight, leading to him rolling his eyes up and leaning his head back when the man stood directly behind him. The man grabbed his head, and forced him to face forward, towards the camera. Keeping one hand in the boy's hair, the man pulled a knife from his pocket and started fiddling with it, leering at the camera.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne. A pleasure to speak to you, as always. I'm sure you've noticed by now that your delightful son has been missing for a while. Don't worry," the man leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Dick's waist. "He's in excellent hands, if I do say so myself." The boy was frozen, his teeth clenched and his eyes caught between disdain, anger, and a tiny bit of fear, which you could only see if you knew him really well. So, basically, Wally, Alfred, and Bruce could see it at that moment. Bruce's fingernails were starting to cut into his skin. He glared at the screen hard enough that if he were Superman, it would have exploded by now. The man on the screen started to pet Dick's hair.

"However, if you want to see little Richard again, you'll need to do a teensy favor for me."

"Anything." Bruce hissed, despite knowing that the man definitely could not hear him.

"I'll need three million untraceable US dollars wired to the account numbered CH76 0344 2012 6573 2020 97 by Thursday midnight. Feel free to pay it sooner. When I have asserted that the correct amount has been placed in the account and it has been transferred without trace, I will disclose your son's current location to you, and no sooner. Don't bring any police with you to the pick-up site, or I will shoot him. If you or he pisses me off, I will take my time. If not, you'll be able to ride to his rescue maybe six hours after I receive the funds."

Dick looked horrified at the idea that he would have to spend at least a week with these psychos. His eye flicked back and forth between two spots in front of him and, almost pointedly, straight ahead at the camera. His fingers appeared to be moving inside the dark sac, but not enough that they could make out any signals.

The man gently splayed a hand over the back of Dick's head, one finger touching a sensitive spot on the back of his neck, causing him to reflexively shrug up his shoulders. Finally, Dick looked straight at the camera seeming to beg Bruce to end this. The man nuzzled his face against Dick's, causing the boy to shiver, and stroked Dick's chin with his free hand. Dick's eyes slid to him, and he tried to lean away but was hindered by the ropes around his chest.

"Against my better instincts, I won't do anything naughty to your precious boy, Mr. Wayne. But if those funds aren't in my account by midnight Thursday or earlier… well, I'll just get to have my fun." The video ended there, to the horror of those watching. On the one hand, it was proof of life; on the other, Dick didn't look to be in the best condition. Plus, the time stamp was from Friday evening.

Dick knew they were eating. He could smell the food. It smelled like fried chicken, fast food. They weren't exactly being quiet with their chomping. The car had slowed a little bit ago as well. His stomach growled. They had fed him something before they left the shack, and again the day before yesterday, right before his third escape attempt. What they had given him was not filling at all.

Food sounded good. It would taste good, too. Were they planning to starve him until they gave him back to Bruce? He could go a while without food, but that didn't mean he didn't want any. Although, poisoned food might be a good thing to avoid, if he wanted to live and all. Thankfully, they had given him water several times, so he didn't have to worry about that.

He had tried to escape twice more since they left the shack. Once the same day and again the day before yesterday. Definitely not some of his smarter moves, but something felt fishy about the situation. Heh. Fishy. Alfred makes excellent fish dishes. Like the one he made last Wednesday. Jason's face when he saw the dish was great. Jason doesn't like fish very much. He prefers chicken, and cookies. They both like cookies, with milk. Alfred makes the best cookies ever. He had some secret recipe that equaled perfection.

Anyhow, back to the escape attempts. After the ransom video, Dick had been fed, and then they had replaced the gag and gave him a weak sedative. As it kicked in, he noticed that the men seemed to be dirtying him up. They did something with the video camera that he wasn't fully aware of. As soon as they were finished, they had immediately shoved him back in the trunk of the car and fixed the trunk so that it could only be opened by a crowbar again. So, there had been no chance then. Hmm. Crows. Crows liked corn. Corn sounded good about now. Did you know that the majority of corn crops went to livestock, such as cows? Alfred made excellent cornbread, too, but he only made it occasionally and for Thanksgiving. Mmm. Corn.

Dick woke up again much later. He was still drowsy from the sedative though, and dozed off instead of trying to get the ropes off. After another hour or so, the car pulled to a stop. As they pulled Dick out to transfer him to another car, he seized the chance to bolt, completely forgetting that he had neglected to remove his bindings. Luckily, his legs weren't tied, or he would have face planted immediately. As it was, Dick blindly ran straight into one of the Dingbats, who instantly caught him and lifted him up from the ground. Had he mentioned he hated being short? Couldn't one of them be shorter? This was way too easy for them, especially since he couldn't pull a Robin move that was guaranteed to get him out of their hold.

Whichever Dingbat was holding him carried him towards the other car. He managed to blindly kick one of the other Dingbats in the stomach and head-butted the one behind him. The Dingbats both grunted, but unfortunately didn't sound injured. Oh well, he tried. For his troubles, he received a prick on his shoulder and no food for the day. When he woke up from the sedation, he found he was propped against a wall, with something cold against his neck. He tried to lean forward, but immediately stopped when there was a sudden pressure on his throat causing him to choke slightly.

After that, Dick decided that it would be easier to get past a single Dingbat than all three. He had targeted Dingbat 1 as the easiest to get past, from what he could remember of his build. If he could wait until only 1 was guarding him, he was sure that he could get away.

The chance came the next evening. They stopped in a wooded area for the night, not too far from the road but sufficiently hidden. They fed him a small cup of what tasted like a cheap potato and cheese chowder, which sounded really good around now. He ate quickly, not putting it past them to get bored with feeding him and not give him the full serving. For some reason, the Dingbats hadn't bothered to redo the gag, probably thinking he had learned his lesson about trying to call for help. He had. After dinner, two of the Dingbats went to sleep while the third kept watch, as seemed to be the normal nightly routine.

1 had the second shift, so Dick decided to take a short nap before attempting anything. All day spent in the trunk of car allowed him to carefully loosen the ropes around his wrists without the Dingbats noticing. In about an hour, he loosened them enough that he could easily slip his wrists out at any time, but stopped there so as to keep up appearances. Dick woke up during the shift change. He waited until people stopped shifting around, and he didn't feel any eyes on him. Then, he quietly slipped one hand out of the slack ropes, raised it to the collar around his neck, and started picking the lock with a needle he'd picked up the night before. The Dingbats had wrapped a blanket around him so he wouldn't freeze to death—given that it was November and all. The blanket easily hid his actions.

There was a soft click as the collar unlocked. Dick froze, and listened for any signs that Dingbat 1 had heard it. There were none, so he turned on stealth mode, took the collar off and slipped his other hand out of the ropes. He reached up to take the blindfold off, standing up as he did so.

Suddenly, Dick was smashed against the tree, held up by an arm on his neck. He let loose a yelp as his head collided hard with a bump on the trunk. Someone grabbed one of his wrists, twisting it and pinning it above his head.

"Waz going on?" Dingbat 2 asked. Whoever was holding Dick's wrist tightened their grip. Dick gave a wheezing cough. 2 instantly sounded more awake. "Woah. What are you doing? Why did you untie him?"

"I didn't." A soft voice, which he hadn't heard before, stated directly in front of him. "We underestimated the rich brat." 1 leaned forward, holding Dick up with 1's body weight. 1's arm, which was pinning Dick's neck to the tree moved away, and his now free hand covered Dick's mouth and nose, effectively suffocating him. Dick thrashed under his grip, getting a few good kicks in, before going limp as his vision went black.

When he regained consciousness, he was trussed up again in the back of a car. The collar and gag were back and the ropes around his wrists and now ankles were tied so tight that he couldn't feel his fingers or toes. He could, however, feel a slight ache in his stomach, which decided to make itself heard with a loud gurgle.

"What was that?"

"Donno. Sounded like a wild animal."

"Whatever it is, we can take it."

"Naturally."

Dick whimpered softly. They continued for about an hour, country music blaring, before the car made a bunch of turns and slowed to a stop. The Dingbats got out. Straining his ears, Dick could hear the sound of another car unlocking, and something clinking. The trunk opened and he felt two pairs of hands grasp his arms and legs firmly.

"Can we put these on him with the other ropes still tied?" Huh. These what? New restraints? Maybe the Dingbats wised up to his stubbornness and upped their game. Joke's on them. Robin knew how to get out of boundless types of restraints. All he'd have to do is activate the lock picks in his glove pointer fingers and… Oh wait; he wasn't Robin at the minute, no gloves. Dang it.

It might be a good idea to get away before these new restraints were on him. Yeah, the new ones were probably something he wanted to avoid. Dick coiled his muscles, planning the best course of action.

Click.

Too late.

Mwa ha ha.

Please review. Especially about the Dingbat # versus # question.

For reference, most of the Dickie-bird scenes in the next couple chapters take place the day before the Bruce scenes in the next couple chapters. I originally had it organized so that scenes happened virtually simultaneously, but my beta suggested that I should reveal the chapter that was originally going to be Chapter 5 later, so I reorganized them, and added a scene to my outline that would explain something I'd left out.

I googled foreign bank account numbers when writing this in order to get the structure. Forgot which country I chose, but I added a digit in a random place, just in case I accidentally picked a real bank number.