AN: Thanks for all of the feedback you have given so far. Things start to get a bit more violent and a bit darker from this chapter forward – kinda hope you're as excited for that as we are. As always, we do not own DC comics or any of the related characters.
Chapter Four
Nothing was how it should have been. Cass sat perched on a table pressed up against the wall. She had made sure her back was to the wall, her eyes able to see everyone in the room at the same time. Every person, and every possible entry into the Clock Tower. She allowed her concentration to shift in and out of the conversation happening around her. While she could understand their words just fine, she preferred to watch. The way the three other women in the room held themselves, their ticks and quarks gave her more than enough information anyway.
"So you're telling me," Artemis's voice cut into Cass's thoughts, drawing her eyes to the only person in the room she didn't trust indisputably, "you're telling me that you found out about a kidnapping plot against Damian Wayne? That you brought this information to the boys, and Dick tried to brush it off?" Cass caught Barbara nodding along. "And then," Artemis continued, "and then the little monster goes out and gets himself kidnapped on purpose?"
Cass found herself nodding along with Barbara this time. She loved Damian, she loved all of her brothers, but there were times that they could be so… so infuriatingly stupid.
"They went after him," Stephanie added in, coming to stand beside Barbara, her hand resting on the older woman's shoulder.
"Not really helping their case, Steph," Barbara said with a heavy sigh. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at Artemis slyly.
"Remember when you and I used to scramble the password for our GPSs?" she asked. Artemis snorted, the corners of her lips quirking up in a smile. Cass couldn't help but like the way she did that.
"You mean when you worked your computer magic? I'm science and literature, Barb. Computers is a Bat-specialty."
"Yeah, well, let's just say I am seriously regretting telling Tim about that." Barbara said with a shrug, her eyes flickering back to a blinking on her screen.
"They want to do this on their own," Cass said, finally allowing herself into the conversation.
The tall blonde spun around, her hand already reaching for the crossbow at her hip. Cass did her best impersonation of a smile. She liked that the archer hadn't realized she was there. Cass liked even more that the other woman was alert and ready for danger. She could appreciate someone with quick instincts even if Artemis did need to work on knowing her surroundings.
"But it doesn't make it okay," Cass added simply. She glanced back at Barbara, who was sighing again.
"No," Artemis agreed. Cass watched the ease with which the archer's hands came away from the weapon, her arms crossing over her chest. "Dick already knows what happens when people decide they need to do things on their own."
The way the silence fell upon the room made Cass want to hold her breath. The looks on both Barbara and Artemis's faces spoke of loss and pain. Even Steph was frozen, all of the energy draining out of her. It was more feelings in one room that Cass was comfortable handling.
"So…" Artemis said finally shattering the dull ache that had been griping the room. "So, are they still in the city?"
"I doubt it," Barbara offered. Cass could tell she was more than happy to be back to work and away from the past. "They'd want to get out, and fast."
Artemis seemed to consider this a moment, her face screwing up in extreme concentration. Cass appreciated that look as well. She decided that it was one she would practice later.
"Doesn't Batman have a plane, or something?" Artemis asked, the tone of her voice suggesting she wasn't completely serious. Cass had been trying very hard lately to better understand tone. The way a person used their words, she was beginning to understand, could be just as important as how they held their bodies.
"Yes," Stephanie supplied. "But, c'mon they wouldn't be that stupid? To steal from the Boss?" Cass began nodding her head from the shadows as she saw Barbara roll her eyes.
"Please," the redhead said. "Jason has hotwired, "borrowed," or otherwise stolen three separate "bat" things this month alone."
Artemis threw her hands into the air. "A plane, the man has a freaking plane."
"Three," Cass offered, her eyes never leavening Barbara who now whipped her chair around to one of her secondary computer screens. Her long fingers flicked out over the keys at a rapid pace.
"I think…" Barbara said, her teeth pulling at her lip anxiously. "I'm locking in on them now!" she announced, one hand clenching quickly in victory, eyes lighting up and following the coordinates as they flew across the screen before –
Cass tried not to flinch as Barbara brought her fist down on the table. "I'm going to kill them," Barbara muttered under her breath. "All of them."
"Give me something, Babs," Artemis begged coming to crouch besides Barbara's chair.
Cass turned her eyes towards Stephanie, watching the way she bounced on the balls of her heels, the way she held her hands close to her sides, and tried to muster up a smile when she finally noticed Cass was watching her. Hope, Cass decided. Stephanie looked like hope.
"The last bit I got from them places them somewhere in the Caribbean," Barbara announced. But the way she said it – Cass thought it sounded defeated; sounded like something Barbara had already know, but desperately wanted to be inaccurate.
"The island?" Artemis and Steph asked at the same time. Barbara nodded grimly.
"It all fits too well," she said apprehension coating every word. "I feel like there were too many clues. I wanted it to be someplace else because then it wouldn't have been so…"
"Obvious?" Steph offered, her eyes darting around to the different computer screens. "It's a trap isn't it?" she asked finally. Barbara wouldn't meet anyone's gaze. No one there needed to hear it aloud. It was a trap, all right, and three boys blinded by their desire to get back their little brother, had just walked right into it.
This was not how Jason had intended to spend his night. It had started out fine, a call from Babs, the promise of food, even if he did have to put up with his "family" to get it. Now he was running, with a pair of stupid green boots bouncing painfully into his stomach.
"Unhand me, peasant," the kid mumbled into his shoulder blade. Jason did not envy the headache Damian was going to have when he finally came back to reality – but it did serve the monster right for being an absolute dumbass. He was far too young to go out looking for so much trouble.
"Not now, Brat." Jason told him over the screech of alarms and the clomping of goons running through the halls after them. Jason was very glad to have Timmy in the lead. All of the hallways had looked the same to him on the way in, and they were only blurring together more as they sprinted towards what he hoped was going to be the exit. He shifted the kid's weight ever so slightly on his shoulder, making damn sure he could still reach a set of holsters.
"How's he doing, Hood?" Nightwing called glancing back at him.
"Heavier than I remember," Jason answered, twisting his body slightly to avoid ramming the kid into the wall as he took the corner a little too fast.
"No!" Jason had to clench his arm tightly around Damian's body as the kid began to struggle. His speech was still slurred as his fits began pounding weakly on Jason's back.
"You're not…no! Take me back!" he demanded.
"I'll get right on that, your highness," Jason bit back. "Nightwing, he doesn't seem very grateful to me." Nightwing just shrugged in front of him.
"Fools…You absolute imbeciles…" Jason couldn't help but wish the drugs had lasted just a little bit longer.
"Tell you what kid," he said. "The next time you go and get yourself kidnapped, we'll just leave you." He paused slightly to readjust, the boots now bouncing against the side of his ribs. Damian responded with a sick moan.
"So help me, Robin, if you puke on my jacket, I will drop you." Jason rounded the next corner and just barely avoided running head long into Nightwing, who had apparently not been able to avoid crashing into the back of Red Robin. They had reached a crossroad. Bane's goons were closing in on them from three sides, the fourth, the furthest from the middle of this intersection from hell – was still clear. Dick turned to face him, a grim set to his mouth. Neither one of them needed to discuss what was about to happen.
"Red Robin," Nightwing started, back to being the self assured leader Jason was used to. Timmy spun to face him, his panic evident despite the mask.
"No, Di – Nightwing! Don't do this."
"You're going to take Robin, and you're going to get him out of here."
Jason was already in the process setting the kid down on his feet. Damian managed to remain standing, but barely. The smallest of them swayed dangerously, his hands scrubbing over his face as if that was going to help him clear his mind of the drugs they'd pumped him full of.
"It's a trap," he mumbled weakly.
"No kidding," Jason agreed starting to do a quick head count. He turned to face Timmy. "Take the kid and go," he said, nudging Damian towards Tim.
"No!" Tim replied, but he held out a hand to steady Damian all the same. "I can help, I can …"
"Timmy," Jason said quietly, knowing the Big Guy would have his head for using civilian names in the field. "There comes a time in every man's life where he's got to shut the hell up and do what he's told." The younger boy turned to face him.
"Yeah, and when was that time for you?"
"It hasn't happened yet." Despite the situation, he heard Dick snort sharply. "But your time is now. Do as Dickie Bird says, take the kid, and go. We got this." Tim opened his mouth to protest again, but a short shake of Dick's head cut him off. Resigned, he lowered his head before sliding Damian's arm over his shoulders. With a slight shove to his back, Jason sent the two of them towards the open exit.
Dick watched his two brothers move toward the exit, though certainly not as quickly as he'd hoped. Tim wasn't as strong as Jason, so he wouldn't be carrying Damian, but Dick knew that he and Jason were capable of holding off Bane's thugs long enough for them to escape. They had to.
"So... we got this, huh?" He smiled at Jason as the two of them moved closer to the center of the crossroads, Dick already pulling out his escrima sticks.
"Sure, just like old times," Jason responded, cracking his knuckles as he eyed the goons from under his helmet.
"Back to back?" Dick twirled the escrima sticks in his hands, eyes narrowing as he stared down the thugs who continued advancing closer. He noticed they were leaving their guns holstered, and smiled for small miracles.
"Unless you have a better idea?" He shook his head at Jason's response.
"The last time we fought back to back, you broke my nose. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't going to happen again." There was a pause as Jason's hands dropped to his side.
"That was one. Time. You really need to let that go, Nightwing."
"You broke my nose!"
"Your nose tried to break my fist." Dick shook his head. Jason was almost never intentionally cheery, except when situations seemed most dire. Dick had asked him about it once, and Jason's answer had been something to the effect of when you've died once, the prospect of doing it again doesn't seem nearly as scary.
Dick's attention snapped back into focus as he heard Jason draw one of his pistols. "No guns, Hood."
"But Nightwing..." the younger man motioned vaguely towards the thugs.
"No. Guns. There's only ten of them. We've faced worse odds before."
"How sad is it that we consider ten on two "good" odds?" Dick smirked in response.
"It means he taught us well." Bane's thugs drew closer. "Here we go, for the hundredth time."
Dick took a step forward as two thugs came rushing at him from opposite sides. As it seemed to with all fights, the action seemed to slow for Dick. The guy on his right swung, a long looping punch that Dick had seen, and dodged, countless times before. He didn't think he'd been hit with a shot like that since one of his first missions with Batman. Dick ducked under the wild haymaker, jamming his escrima stick into the goon's kidney. As the man shouted, Dick shifted his weight to his right leg and fired a kick at the other thug's knee. The man went down with a howl as his knee made an unnatural crackling sound. In a flash, Dick stood, swinging his other escrima stick against the back of the first thug's head, sending him crashing down in a heap.
He heard a grunt from behind him and turned to see Jason stagger a few feet, holding his jaw. The bigger man dove at his attacker, tackling him to the ground before mounting him and quickly firing three punches into his face. The goon lay still. Jason quickly jumped off of him to fire two punches into another thug's midsection, before a strong uppercut sent the man flying through the air and crashing back down to earth.
Dick's head turned as a battle cry sounded near him. Pushing a hand into the ground, he launched himself into a back handspring, landing in a crouched position. A much bigger thug continued in, swinging wildly. Dick leaned back from one punch, ducked another, and then went to work. An escrima stick to the man's side, another to the other side, and a shot to each side of his head dazed the man before Dick wound up and used both sticks right across the man's chin, snapping his head around.
With half of the bad guys down, Dick noticed Jason started to show off a little. His hands by his sides, he leaned back twice as a thug swung at him before grabbing the man's collar and throwing him into another. He then calmly walked over and cracked their heads together, effectively ending their nights.
Dick grinned and dropped low as another goon came in, sweeping his leg behind his to send the masked man crashing to the ground. He then planted that same foot as he stood, his leg flying through the air, his heel connecting with a second goon's temple. That man fell like a sack of bricks.
A slight... cooing caught Dick's ear, and he turned, escrima sticks ready only to see Jason holding the last thug in a rear chokehold with one arm, the other hand stroking the top of his head.
"Time to go to sleep, little bad guy," he said, patting him as the man's legs struggled and kicked before finally going still as Jason dropped him to the floor.
"There," Jason said, placing his hands on his hips. "That wasn't so hard was it?" Before Dick could answer, more thugs started streaming in, at least twice as many as before. He turned to look at his younger brother.
"You just had to say it, didn't you?"
Of course he had to say it. Who did Dick think he was, Timmy? Someone who just cracks some skulls, wipes the dirt off his hands, and then wait for Daddy Brucie to tell him what to do next? No. Dick had fought him, and beside him, for too long. Dick knew he was the type of guy to kick an unconscious thug, light a match off his chest, and smoke a cigarette in celebration as he sat on them.
He felt his brother's back against his as the new wave of thugs started coming at them. Jason wasn't sure if this had been Bane's plan, or if this was just when the new guys got here, but this wasn't going to be all fun and games again. Ten on two was something they had both encountered quite often flying around with Batman. This was closer to twenty on two, and even as experienced as they both were from years of training and fighting, Jason didn't like those odds.
As the first thugs reached them, Jason struck. With elbows and fists flying, he leapt into one goon, cracking him across the chin with an elbow. A knee to the stomach and a kick sent him flying back into another goon. The sharp pain of a fist connecting with his midsection pushed the air from Jason's lungs quickly, and he gasped as he ducked another swing. He planted his feet and sent a fist hurtling into the man's chin, a grimace appearing under the mask as he felt pain shooting up his side. There was at least one broken rib there, but he'd fought through worse.
Jason reached back to feel for his brother, but felt nothing but air. He spun, ducking another wild swing as he did so, to see Dick somersaulting and twirling through a gang of enemies at least as big as his. His escrima sticks moved faster than Jason's eye could track, and an explosion of light emitted from the end of one into a thug's chest as Dick electrocuted one of them. Jason smirked, but reached down and pulled out his two guns from his thigh holsters and fired off a few rapid shots from his knees at Bane's thugs. One by one, they started to fall.
"Hood!" Jason knew that was coming. "I told you not to use guns!"
"You told me we were fighting back to back!" He fired off another couple of shots. The advantage of knowing Dick would chastise him was also having a witty comeback waiting. Dick paused for a moment, opening his mouth to say something before back flipping over a lunging attack from another thug.
"Fine, use the guns. Just don't kill them." Jason rolled his eyes. In fact, he rolled his eyes so much he was sure Dick could see it even through his helmet.
"Yes, Oracle." Okay, that one may have been a low blow. But it had been building for most of the night. Jason could tell that it hurt Dick. It physically stunned him. It was the first time Jason had ever seen his older brother freeze in battle, and Dick paid for it with a shot across the jaw from some opportunistic thug. That same opportunistic thug then tried to get in another shot as Dick crumpled to the floor. A well-placed bullet from Jason's pistol through the man's knee ended any notion of that quickly.
And a shot to his kidneys from a goon who had come up on him from behind quickly ended any notion that Jason had that he and Dick had the upper hand in this fight. Jason spun, still on his knees, and sprayed into the crowd of goons. Efficient? No. Effective? The number of howls and thugs dropping to the ground, plus the slowed advance of the gang as a whole told him it was.
He glanced back to check on Dick, who was just getting up from the ground and swung a leg at two thugs trying to keep him there, knocking them flat on their backs. As Jason turned back, a fist connected hard with his jaw, sending the helmet flying from his head. He could still feel the domino mask around his eyes, but now he was pissed. Jason lunged for the helmet, but a kick to his left wrist made his hand go numb. The pistol went flying out of his hand, clattering against the ground. He grimaced in pain and leveled the pistol at the man who had kicked him. A squeeze of the trigger and the man dropped, clutching his shoulder. Jason scurried over and grabbed the helmet, swinging it back around into the thug's head. He lay still.
Getting to his feet, Jason began working methodically. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, click. Use gun as a hammer. Swing helmet. Drop first gun, grab other gun from the ground. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet. He continued to take the sporadic hit once in a while, but he was doing a lot more damage than they were doing to him. But he couldn't help but notice the new wave of thugs streaming into the crossroads. With a yell, he ran right at them, swinging his helmet into two other goons before winding up and launching it as hard as he could at a thug running towards him.
This was not at all how he had intended on spending his night.
Even over an escrima stick electrocuting another of Bane's thugs, Dick heard Jason yell. He saw his younger brother throw, yes throw, his helmet at a new group of goons running into the crossroads. Dick mentally went over the odds in his head. They weren't good to say the least, but Jason's strategy was probably best. Full frontal assault to catch them as off guard as possible. Twirling his escrima sticks, Dick charged into the fray after his brother.
As he reached the outer edge, Jason was already buried deep within the swarming mass, which Dick estimated to be at least thirty strong. Dick swung, one escrima stick connecting with a goon's face before he jumped into the air, contorting his body sideways to avoid a thug diving at him. Rolling off the man's back, he ducked down, swinging a leg out in a sweep that knocked two more thugs to the ground. He planted his escrima sticks into their chests and pressed the end, sending more electricity into their bodies.
But there was a problem. One of his sticks sputtered and died, out of juice. The other had an indicator light on it that said its energy level was dangerously low as well. It seemed he'd have to start doing things the old fashioned way again. In a fluid motion, Dick stood and jumped, launching a spinning kick to a thug's face. Landing back on earth, he swung his escrima sticks rapidly, moving around the blocking attempts of another goon before grabbing the back of the man's head and smashing it down against his raised knee.
Dick could see Jason doing what he did best: brawling. His younger brother was punching, shooting, pistol whipping, and kicking the thugs around him as fast as possible. It wasn't the most efficient form of fighting, but right now simply causing as much pain to the enemy might be the most effective strategy. Dick saw Jason drop a pistol, out of ammunition, and grab two more from his shoulder holsters.
While Jason's brawling mentality was well suited to large numbers of enemies, the sheer concentration of Bane's thugs was making it difficult for Dick to fight the way he preferred. He didn't have the space for his more fluid fighting style, and it was showing. As the thugs pressed in tighter, they began landing more and more shots. One of them pulled a knife and came in swinging wildly, forcing Dick to retreat. One swing sliced through his sleeve, cutting into his skin. A sharp hiss escaped from his lips and Dick leapt back as the thug kept coming. As much as he wanted to keep his attention solely on the knife-wielding thug, a fist flew in and connected with his ribs. Dick fell to one knee, his breathing labored. Another swing of the knife sliced open the chest of his outfit, a thin red line of blood beginning to trickle out. Scowling, Dick took both escrima sticks and brought them up under the man's chin. He flew back into another thug with a crash.
Deciding he needed more distance, Dick back flipped backwards, only to land on the body of a thug either he or Jason had dispatched earlier. Pain like fire shot up his leg, and he let out a small yell as he grabbed at his ankle. Looking up, he saw Jason being grabbed by three thugs, with more trying to pull him to the ground or coming in to take swings at him. A thug stepped forward, laughing lightly.
"Bane said you boys wouldn't be much trouble. Not sure where these fearsome reputations have come from. You're just boys in over your head." Dick smirked through the pain as he got to his feet.
"Yeah, well, we're used to that." Dropping an escrima stick, Dick grabbed a batarang from his belt and threw it at the thug. The man ducked, and the batarang flew past him. He chuckled.
"Looks like you missed, little birdie." A soft chuckle escaped Dick's lips in all the chaos.
"No, it just went over your head," he taunted. Behind the thug, the batarang flew right at the thugs dog piling Jason. It embedded itself into the back of one of the goons for a half second, before exploding with a grey gas. The thugs all started coughing as the gas enveloped them. When it cleared a few seconds later, Jason was standing over a group of unconscious thugs. Dick smiled.
"Neat trick, bird boy, but that won't help you with me." The thug started forward, raising his knife when a shot rang out, catching the man in the back of his knee. As he crumpled down to the ground with an agonized scream, Dick looked up to see Jason aiming a pistol in the thug's direction, nodding as he pulled another from the back of his pants. The older man nodded back at his younger brother as he walked over to the thug, who was still clutching his knee, and sent him into darkness with a kick to his face.
Another of Bane's thugs was sent flying by a kick to the chest when Dick felt a sting in his neck, just above the collar of his armor. He shook his head, not sure what it was, when that old familiar feeling began creeping up on him.
That feeling like the walls were closing in. That feeling like he couldn't breathe. That feeling like he was failing, over and over again. He stumbled. Dick tried to rub his eyes through his mask. It literally felt like the walls were actually moving closer, like the floor was tilting wildly. He blinked heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, opening them just in time to see an assailant come at him, swinging wildly. Dick barely ducked, more like staggered, out of the way, and landed his foot into the back of the man's knee as he tried to catch his breath.
What was happening? He hadn't had a panic attack like this in years, not since... not since Wally died. That one had lasted for hours. He shook his head again, trying to push back the walls that were closing in through shear force of will. 'Snap out of it, Grayson,' he thought to himself. 'You're better than this; you can beat this. Just breathe.'
He started sucking in deep, slow breaths and the world started closing in a little less. Things seemed to stabilize. Not return to normal. No, normal was a long way off with whatever he'd been hit with. But it seemed like he was starting to improve. And that, in and of itself, was a good thing. The goon whose knee he'd ruined started to turn, reaching for something. An escrima stick to the head ended any notion of that quickly.
What was happening? His mind was so cloudy, his vision so blurry. He again started to feel like he couldn't breathe. How long had it been since fear had overtaken him like this? The word struck him. Fear. He'd been hit with something, he knew that, and it had instantly triggered a panic attack. There was only one man who he knew could do this. Dick staggered again, holding his head.
"Hood..." he managed to rasp out, before a hand wrapped around his chest. Dick felt a body behind his, and then cold metal pressed against his neck.
Jason heard Dick call his name, even over the repeated staccato of his pistols. His aim was getting, well, let's just say he wasn't taking Dick's earlier order of "just don't kill them" quite as much to heart anymore. Jason wasn't aiming for kill shots, he just didn't particularly care if they died at the moment. Jason fired another shot, which was followed by another of Bane's goons crumpling to the floor. There wasn't even enough time to pivot towards Dick before the next voice spoke.
"That's enough, Red Hood." The voice was sharp, guttural, and modified. Jason knew who it was before he even turned to look, a pistol raised at the voice's owner.
"Scarecrow." The burlap bag mask for a face with glowing red eyes and a gas mask for a mouth was recognizable anywhere. He held a silver applicator gun to Dick's neck, and Jason's pistol was aiming directly for his forehead. "Give it up, hay bag. It's a pretty easy shot from this range." His other hand held his second pistol in the opposite direction, attempting to deter any remaining thugs from thinking now would be a good time to make a run at him. A twitch of movement from one of the goons drew his eye from Dick for the briefest of seconds.
"That may be, Red Hood, but it's also a pretty easy shot from this range." Scarecrow squeezed his finger on the applicator's trigger as Jason's eyes flashed back to him, and Jason immediately saw Dick's body seize. His own finger tightened on the trigger of the pistol he held.
"I said that's enough, Mister Hood. Lower your weapons, or he gets a third dose. And I'm quite sure that will kill him. I'd rather not do that."
"A third dose of what, Scarecrow?" Jason's voice remained hard; his eyes focused on the glowing red targets the man holding his brother was providing for him. He knew Dick wasn't faking. Scarecrow never would have been able to get the jump on him when the original Boy Wonder was one hundred percent. And Dick's reaction after Scarecrow injected him a second time wasn't acting. Something was in that vial, Jason just didn't know what. He did not lower his pistols.
"A new and improved Nightmare toxin, Red Hood. Combined with venom, it's now more powerful, more concentrated. It feeds off adrenaline. Adrenaline makes it work faster, more potently. The nightmares are said to be much more... vivid." Jason watched as Scarecrow pulled Dick even closer to him, the man's thump flicking over another switch on the applicator, loading a third dose. "To be quite honest, I'm not sure what I've already given Nightwing won't kill him. I've never tried giving someone a double dose before. But I know a third will end his life. Put your weapons down." Jason hesitated again. So that's why they'd kidnapped the little brat. They wanted someone to experiment on who had experience with high doses of adrenaline. Or maybe it was just a trap set up for the rest of the bat boys, one they had all plunged into headlong. Jason's jaw clenched before his arms relaxed.
"Don't kill him, Scarecrow. I..." he swallowed hard. His next words sounded like they were being squeezed out of him. In a sense, they were. "I surrender." As Jason flipped the pistols around so they were facing grip out in his hands, he saw Dick's eyes roll back into his head.