AN: Here we are on chapter three. The boys are very good at getting themselves into messes. This chapter features a lot more of his work and he's really looking forward to some feedback As a disclaimer, I don't own any of the DC characters that you see, or the Young Justice universe, which this is set in. Thanks for reading!
Chapter Three
Things had not gone as planned. Tim stood helplessly in front of the two men he looked to as brothers.
"We lost him," he squeaked out. God, he hoped Steph was having better luck than he was; he knew he sounded beyond pathetic. Although, if he had to choose between breaking the news to Dick and Jay, or breaking the news to Babs, he'd take these two any day of the week.
"You…Damian's gone?" Dick choked out, springing up from Jason's faded couch. "He's gone?" Tim could only nod. He flinched as Jason let loose a pretty vivid stream of curses. It was impressive, Tim had to give him that. As long and as eloquent as he'd heard since the last time Steph stole all of his cigarettes.
"The kid's a sneaky little fucker, I'll give him that much," Jason said. "Stupid as hell though." Dick came to stand next to Tim, the younger boy could tell he was trying not to lose it completely.
"Tell us everything," he demanded. Tim could tell he was trying not to sound accusatory, only mater of fact. Tim could respect mater of fact. And so, Tim told him everything. How Damian was being really nice to him and Steph. How they came across the mugging. How the little brat had said he was going to help, but then disappeared. Tim knew the disappearing thing was something Damian had to have picked up from his father. He finished with how Steph was already on her way to tell Barbara. It surprised him to hear Dick swearing under his breath. At least Tim figured it was probably swearing; the muttering was done in Romani.
"We could... head over there now?" Tim offered, already pressing his mask back onto his face, but Dick walked over to a nearby wall, pulling a screen up from his wrist computer. Jason made a dismissive motion with his hand.
"No suggestions, Timmy. You've done enough damage for one night. Grown-ups are handling this now." Jason turned to walk over near Dick, who had moved the screen up onto a wall, a holographic keyboard in front of him. His fingers were racing over it frantically.
"Grown-ups? Aren't you like the least mature one out of all of us, Jay? I mean, even Damian..." The older man rounded on him.
"You're really going to compare me to that mouthy, psycho shit storm of a –" A whistle broke up their argument as Dick looked back at both of them incredulously before motioning to the complex stream of tracking sequences he was typing into the computer. Tim wondered briefly where Jason had been going with that rant – because he may as well have been describing himself.
Jason shrugged nonchalantly and walked deeper into the apartment as Tim scowled, watching over Dick's shoulder. A loud crash made him jump, spinning around as he reached for his bo staff, only to see Jason in the process of loading up.
"Aaa… Jay?" Tim asked as he watched Jason slowly, deliberately, pull the clip out of the grip of a pistol with a silver slider, inspect it to make sure it was fully loaded, shove the clip back in with a clack, and then shove the pistol into the back of his pants. Jason didn't even bother to look up as he walked over and started rifling through a drawer full of magazine clips.
"Yeah Timmy?"
"Do you really think you're going to need three guns?" Tim took a step back as Jason began to laugh.
"Five, Timmy," he said with a smirk, opening up his jacket to reveal his second set of holsters tucked under his armpits. "I have five guns, Timmy." Dick looked back from the screen for a brief second, his eyes flicking over Jason's arsenal.
"I think you might be able to tone it down just a little, Jay," he said, eyes instantly going back to the screen. Tim noticed Jason's full-on eye roll, even if Dick didn't.
"Right," Jason muttered. "Because between my charming personality, your ass, and Timmy's traumatizing fear of the female body, this mission is bound to be successful. As long as Damian's haughty air of superiority hasn't set him free already."
"I got him!" Dick yelled triumphantly, efficiently silencing the protest that was about to spring from Tim's mouth. He and Jason moved quickly to the screen.
"That looks like…" Tim couldn't even bring himself to say the name of the island. If that's where they were headed, there was no doubt Bane was involved in this. He pulled up his own computer, starting to cross reference Bane with any recent activity in the area. The fact that nothing came up was not as comforting as it should have been. "He's been off grid for a while," Tim said, watching as Dick nodded and Jason looked a cross between angry and board out of his mind.
"When do we leave?" Jason asked, this time slipping a small, sheathed, knife into his left boot.
"Wait," Tim interrupted. "We have to tell Barb." He was extremely uncomfortable with the look that passed between his older brothers. "We don't even have a plan!" he yelled trying to get one of them to see reason. Jason he could understand. Jason was the hot head, the one who rushed in to danger headlong and shooting, and if they were lucky, he'd ask some questions on his way out. Tim turned his eyes to Dick, pleading with him. "Dick," he said. "Come on, you know we need a plan; you're the one who taught me that. You're the one who always says…" he trailed off, that frightening gleam tilting off of blue eyes, startling him.
"Not this time, Timmy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This time, Bane, and whoever else is with him, they came too close. They went too far."
Tim looked between the two of them, the slight smirk on Jason's face showing his approval. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Let me just patch through to Babs first…" Dick's hand on his wrist made him jump.
"No, Timmy," he said. "I want you to scramble the password to our tracking devices."
"Are you out of your mind?" Tim all but shouted. But Dick just shrugged him off.
"Maybe…" he whispered. And that was all it took for Tim to become scared. He opened up a link on his computer and did what he was asked.
"This is a terrible idea," he said, eyes staying glued to the screen and refusing to look at either one of them.
"I know." Dick replied, his hands scrubbing over his face as Jason finished snapping a few more clips onto his belt.
"I have always hated Santa Prisca," Dick said, causing Tim to look up.
"So…does that mean I should pack some explosives?" Jason offered, already pulling open another drawer.
"Not you too…" Tim sighed, more to himself than anyone else. He already knew no one was going to be paying any attention to his opinions for the rest of the evening. If he had thought the night was going to be rough before, he had been seriously underestimating how bad things could get.
It was time to make a plan. Barbara waited about thirty seconds after the girls had left to make her call. The comm. system she punched herself into was encrypted, but it was nowhere near difficult to hack her way into.
"Selina," she called out. Barbara heard some rustling in the background before the other woman answered.
"You, my dear," came the sultry voice, "Are not supposed to be able to hack this line."
Barbara couldn't help her laughter "And who told you that?" she asked, smirking.
"Who do you think?" Selina answered. Barbara could hear a cat purring in the background. She figured it was probably best Selina was still at home. Barbara wanted to launch right in and tell her, tell her how everything had gone to hell in the last few hours, but she couldn't find her voice. The pause seemed to stretch on forever.
"He's been gone for a while, hasn't he?" Selina said finally.
"Yes." Barbara could hear the disapproval in Selina's voice, the click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Despite her less than stellar past, Barbara knew the Cat Burglar turned…well turned something, cared a lot about all of them.
"How are you kids holding up?" she asked, sounding concerned. Barbara wanted to be able to calmly tell her everything, but calm wasn't something she could handle right now with her nerves as frayed as they were…
"I need your help," she blurt out. "The boys…they…" Barbara felt ashamed at the way her voice cracked. She was supposed to be in control. She was supposed to have everything put together, because if she didn't, who would? The slight tinkling of Selina's laughter snapped her back to reality.
"Which one of our dear little bird blunders needs saving this time?" she asked. There was another long pause before Barbara could answer; she could feel more than hear her breathing getting louder.
"Barbara?"
"…All of them…" she whispered. Selina swore on the other end, the sound of broken glass filled the air. Barbara was just glad she wasn't the wall Selina had thrown something at.
"Jesus Christ," she growled. "Who would be that…?"
"The Scarecrow is involved," Barbara interrupted, back to dealing with information. She could handle information. Information was simple. It could be chunked down, analyzed – unlike people, data could be controlled. "Something to do with the fear toxin, but they're cutting it with venom."
"Venom… mixing that… what would that even do?" Selina questioned, an edge to her voice. Barbara could hear her moving around now, the glass being swept up, a cat be shooed out of the way, and the swish of fabric. Her motions sounding hurried.
"I don't know," Barbara answered bitterly. "I think…I think the al Ghul family is involved in this some how." Barbara wasn't ready for the almost inhuman hiss that came from the other line.
"I swear to god if that woman has touched one hair on his…"
"Selina, focus," she begged. "I need information."
"Ha!" Selina laughed. "What makes you think I know anything about that Harpy?" Barabra knew she had to tread lightly; the anger of the older woman was coming across loud and clear.
"Because you keep closer tabs on her than I do. Hatred is a powerful tool." There was a pause from Selina, one that Barbara knew well; she had won this conversation.
"The regular meeting place then?" Selina finally said. "I'll need about ten minutes."
"Yeah." She allowed herself a small smile; she had almost forgotten how much she missed Selina, when she was behaving herself.
Barbara was glad that the "regular meeting place," a bench in the park, was only about five minutes from the Clock Tower as she maneuvered herself along the potholes of Gotham City's sidewalks. The late summer air was still hung heavily in the air making her sweat as she pulled up along side the empty bench. Not too far away, she could see Selina Kyle, dressed all in black, moving towards her, two cups of coffee in her hands, and a purse slung over her shoulder.
"You always know," Barbara said, taking the cup that was offered to her.
"You sounded exhausted over the link," Selina answered, plopping herself down on the bench, hand quickly riffling through the purse. "So, are you ready?"
Barbara nodded, drinking deeply from the coffee, before turning her full attention to Selina.
"There's al Ghul money involved in this. I'd bet all of my nine lives on it," Selina said angrily. "But, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Daddy Dearest is going behind his daughter's back," Selina said, her eyes narrowed. "As much as I want it to be her fault, I don't think she has any idea what's going on." Barbara didn't bother asking how Selina knew this. Frankly, she didn't care how the woman got her information, only that it was reliable, and over the past four years, Selina had never let her down.
"Do we know where?" Barbara asked. She had an idea, an obvious idea, but it seemed too easy.
"I'm only confirming your suspicions," Selina said flatly. "They're on Santa Prisca. So, that's Scarecrow and Bane working together off of al Ghul money?"
"Those idiots," Barbara swore. "They're going in blind."
"You're not in contact with them?" Selina asked, her eyebrows lifting skyward. "I thought… I guess I thought they'd just gone black." Barbara shook her head, draining more from her coffee cup.
"I didn't realize they were collectively that stupid," Selina whispered, her fingers finding Barbara's and squeezing lightly before letting go.
"Dick hasn't been…" Barbara had to stop, her teeth sinking quietly into her bottom lip. "He hasn't been the same since…"
"I know," Selina interrupted saving Barbara from having to delve into her own emotions. "And it doesn't help when Bruce goes off for weeks at a time to go save the world or whatever," she shook her head with a sigh. "You've got one, still avoiding the reasons he ran away," she began ticking the boys off on her fingers, "another still dealing with the fact that he died. The third convinced he isn't good enough – and finally Damian, who thinks he has to prove to the world he's good enough to be Bruce's son," she finished by clenching her fist. "Sometimes, I think he forgets just how badly those boys still need him." She stood to go, dropping a small flash drive into Barbara's lap.
"What's this?" Barbara asked, already sliding it into her pocket. Selina smirked.
"You probably already have it, but it's a map of the island." Her hand squeezed Barbara's shoulder reassuringly. "If you need me," she said, "call me. I'll come find you wherever you are."
Barbara watched as she left, all hips down the paved path of the park. She fingered the flash drive in her pocket before turning away. A look at her watch let her know that the girls would be back soon. Barbara could help the bitter laughter that came up through her chest. And she had thought the night was going to be a long one before.
This night had been nothing short of a nightmare. Dick failed to see exactly how it could go any more wrong. He tried, in vain, to figure out how he had gotten from gunning the engine of his motorcycle, laughing with the wind rushing past him and his little brother digging his fingers into his sides to this.
This was Jason, Timmy, and him currently sneaking in the back way to the Batcave. It had been Timmy's idea – to steal…no, "acquire" the Batjet, and it had been Dick's executive decision to break in. He didn't want to have to tell Alfred that they had lost the littlest monster. He hardly wanted to deal with it himself, having to look Alfred in the eye would have been next to impossible. Dick knew he was being irrational. He was supposed to be the adult here, and he just couldn't be. Not when everything falling to pieces around him; not when it was all his fault.
"Hey, Hack Wonder! A little help here?" Jason called, kneeling down next to an exposed computer panel hidden in the rocks.
Dick walked over quickly, his hands scrubbing over his face.
"Override RG-4," he said calmly. Tim spun towards him, eyes blinking in disbelief.
"I can't believe that one still works!" he said, sounding almost giddy.
"Neither can I," Dick agreed with a shrug. He extended his hand smoothly to help Jason up from the ground. The younger man just rolled his eyes.
"Geeks," Jason muttered, "let's get this over with. I'm not looking forward to hotwiring this thing…again." Dick just smiled as he followed him in; trying not to laugh at the incredulous look Tim was sending Jason.
"Jay, exactly how many times have you hotwired one of Bruce's vehicles?"
"This year?" Jason asked, already fishing through one of his pockets.
"Enough," Dick said, effectively ending the conversation. He stood back, giving Tim plenty of space to work, watching nervously as Tim easily bypassed the security system of the jet. No more than three minutes later, he couldn't help but smile as Tim pulled away.
"And we're in," the youngest said with a smile.
Jason was the first one inside, already on his back underneath the control system by the time Dick had made it on board.
"He keeps trying to update the system," Jason called, sounding only slightly irritated.
"Can you do it?" Tim asked. Jason's laughter filled the cockpit.
"Something no woman has ever asked me," he replied, just as the engine roared to life.
Dick rolled his eyes before nudging Jason out of the way with his foot so he could take the controls. He opened up the navigation system, deftly inputting the coordinates from Damian's tracking chip. He really, really hated Santa Prisca.
Three and a half hours later, they were finally nearing Santa Prisca. It was finally because over the course of the trip, Dick had threatened four separate times to use the ejector seat if Jason and Tim hadn't stopped arguing; they'd played the quiet game twelve times; and Jason had checked and rechecked each of his guns at least two dozen times.
Before the island was in view over the horizon, Dick sent the Batjet into a steep dive before pulling up just above the wave tops. He didn't want to give Bane's goons any advance warning that they were coming. A flashing light on the panel in front of him caused his eyes to glance down. Someone, which meant Barbara, was trying to get a lock on their GPS signal.
"Jason."
"What, asshole?"
"The flashing panel to your right. Punch it." There was a stunned silence for a few moments before Jason spoke.
"What?"
"Jason, I'm telling you to break something in this damn plane. Do it before I change my mind." Dick heard a snort of what he could only assume was pure glee from behind him before the crash of glass followed. The flashing light in front of him faded to black.
"Mind telling me what that was?" He knew Jason really didn't care what it was he just broke, but wanted to know if it was something important he could brag about later.
"The jet's GPS tracking system. Babs was trying to find us." Dick turned to see Jason shrug, sliding his gloved hands behind his head. Timmy's eyes were wide.
"Oh she is so going to kill us, isn't she?"
"Boy Worrier, you speak too much." Dick rolled his eyes.
"Don't worry, Timmy. I'll just tell Oracle this was all my fault. She'll believe me. And send my count up a few... hundred more." He pushed the Batjet even lower as the island, still dark in the predawn light, began coming into view. Dick reached above him, hitting a few switches to send the jet into stealth mode. While screaming engines of fire would certainly get them to their destination faster, it would not be so good on the stealthy end of things.
He pulled the Batjet up to just above treetop level as they zipped over the beach. Dick knew from previous missions to the island where the main factory was, and the most likely place Damien was being held. He swung the jet around and set it down in a small clearing about a mile from that location.
After shutting down the Batjet and locking it down as well, Dick led both his brothers down the ramp. As he stepped out, his feet sinking ever so slightly into the most earth of this Caribbean hellhole, Dick heard the unmistakable scrape of metal on leather directly behind him. He twirled, crouching down, only to see Jason standing on the ramp, frozen, a gun in his grip.
"No. Guns." The words were forced out through clenched teeth.
"Aw, c'mon Nightwing. I didn't fly more than three thousand miles just to punch a bunch of guys in the face."
"No, Hood. We flew over three thousand miles to rescue our brother. And since I know you don't carry silencers for those things... no guns." Jason tried to stare his older brother down for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, holstering his pistol and pulling his helmet down over his head.
The three boys moved quickly but quietly through the jungle. It wasn't the first time any of them had been to the island. Dick's mind drifted back to one of the first times he'd been to Santa Prisca. What had been given as a simple recon mission turned into the entire venom factory being destroyed. He smiled. Jason would have been proud.
The rebuilt factory came into view as they got to the edge of a cliff. Security seemed lighter than Dick remembered it, but he wasn't complaining. The three of them scaled the cliff quickly, dodged a passing guard, and made it to a side door.
Quickly, he started tapping away at his wrist computer while Jason and Timmy stood watch. Dick tapped a few buttons, trying some basic attacks to get past the door's security. Those attacks were rebuffed and he frowned. He hadn't expected higher levels of security on something like a side door.
"Hey, Hack Wonder, let's get a move on. It won't be long before that guard comes back around."
"Because heckling from the peanut gallery makes this whole thing so much easier, Hood." He frowned, as his typing grew more frenetic. The first layer of security was down, but there was something that wasn't right...
"Uh, Nightwing? He's coming back." That was Tim's voice, slightly worried in tone as Dick's fingers continued to fly over his holographic keyboard. He wished Barbara were here.
The door slid open. "Inside. Move." Timmy raced past him into the factory, but Dick had to grab Jason by the collar of his leather coat and drag him into the building before he could grab his gun to aim at the approaching guard. Once inside, Timmy hit a panel beside the door and it slid shut.
The three moved almost silently through the factory. When they found a computer terminal, Dick stopped, hooking a small cord into a port. Timmy looked over his shoulder while Jason sighed heavily.
"I thought we were here to rescue the brat, not check status updates." Jason's voice was low, but a growl. Dick knew he was getting impatient.
"I'm hacking into their security cameras, Red. Unless you suddenly developed a keen sense of smell or the big guy's X-ray vision, this will be the quickest way to find him." Dick's fingers flew over his keyboard. Security inside the factory was easier than the outside. An alarm bell went off in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.
"There!" Timmy pointed to the upper part of the screen, drawing Dick's eyes to a small figure clad in red and black with green combat boots.
"Bingo. Level three, room 16." A few more taps onto the keyboard and Dick smiled. "Security cameras are now all on a loop. Let's move." Dick unplugged his wrist computer from the terminal, and the three were off again.
It took them about twenty minutes, dodging a few factory workers and guards, before they reached the hallway where Damian was being held. Dick kneeled down, reaching into his belt for tools to pick the lock on the door, when suddenly it flew open with a bang, a black booted foot by his head. His eyes narrowed as he glared up at Jason.
"Way to be stealthy, Hood. We're lucky the whole area didn't hear that."
"I'm tired of this sneaking around bullshit, Nightwing. They took our brother. I'm here for a fight." The three of them walked into the room, and Dick immediately cringed. He could tell, even from this distance, that there was something wrong with Damian. He was slumped, mouth open against his collar bone, restraints behind the chair the only thing keeping him even semi-upright.
"Red, check his vitals. Hood, keep watch on the door... quietly."
"And what about you? Observing me standing watch?"
"I'm going to find out what's going on here." Dick quickly moved over to a computer in the room as Timmy rushed over to Damian. Jason shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, his hand resting against a pistol.
Dick slid a small thumb drive into a port on the computer. "What is it with you and these damn computers, Nightwing," came Jason's exasperated voice near the door.
"I want to know why they took Robin, Hood. I want to know what they wanted with him." He punched the enter key and a progress bar appeared on screen. "I'll figure it out back at the cave."
"He's breathing but he's drugged. Something strong. Pulse is pretty weak," Tim said, trying to open Damian's eyes to get a look at his pupils.
"See if you can get him upright. If not, we carry him out." Dick typed a few keystrokes while staring intently at the computer, his foot tapping nervously. The progress bar continued to scroll.
Timmy reached behind Damian to cut the restraints on his wrists. As he did, Damian's chair tipped back ever so slightly. Alarms suddenly rang out all throughout the factory.
"Aw, shit. Carrying him it is." Jason sprinted over to Tim and Damian, helping cut remaining restraints quickly with the knife from his boot before putting his shoulder into the boy's stomach and lifting him over his shoulder. "Time to go, Nightwing."
"I know, I know..." Dick stared at the progress bar for a few seconds until it flashed "Complete". He grabbed the thumb drive out of the port, slid it into his belt, and then destroyed the computer screen with a quick shot from one of his escrima sticks. "Alright, let's get out of here."