Bruce picked up his 7th cup of coffee as he reviewed his notes in front of him. It had been too long since all 4 of his sons disappeared. Bruce didn't have 100% proof that they had been kidnapped, but he knew. There was no way this was a coincidence. He'd lost his grip over his thin control and had found himself prowling the sewers on the second nightly at this rate. He'd made the mistake of trying to learn about eh Court of Owls once Dick had returned when he should have been trying to find them first. He'd been scouring past notes, current news reports, and missing articles, but nothing was able to give him a clear idea of the Court and their behavior besides Dick. Granted, Bruce was able to pull confirmed experiments and missing persons articles but it was all just big red arrows pointing to the Court; nothing concrete.

Now Bruce was as good as lost. He knew that the sewers held the right clues and evidence but he had no idea where to start. Dick had confirmed that he had been underground while captive and that was enough for Bruce. He knew Dick was healing but he should've pushed for more information while he had Dick readily available.

He'd only been down there a few hours when he came across a note plastered to the grimy curved brick wall of the sewers. It read, "If you wish to retain your petty facade of being Gotham's protector. You will leave things as they are"

Bruce had almost lost himself to his rage if it were not for this new clue that kept his sanity intact and directed towards something. He wished he were a meta so he could effectively take his anger and frustration out on the sewer wall in front of him. His inner detective and logical conscience reminded him that this was the clue he was waiting for. This note confirmed that the Court had taken his boys and were actively hiding from him.

Bruce had investigated down that tunnel until 9 am when Alfred forced Wonder Woman, Superman, and Flash to come retrieve him.

The next night Bruce investigated the same tunnel but a different path and found the same note. He brought Flash down with him to cover more ground and found 5 versions of the same note on the same old thick paper. Every possible entrance to sewers had that note somewhere close by.

Bruce ran every finger, dust, handwriting, and DNA test possible, but the papers were inconclusive. Some were covered in rat feces but the reports came back as clean as if they were still boxed in the store. A copy of that letter was up on the screen alongside the recording of his boys and their last pinged GPS location.

Bruce had watched the video too many times. He was numb to the cries of Damian and Tim, he was numb to Jason's raging. He was numb to Dick's pain as he was beaten drugged and dragged from his family again.

Even then, Bruce couldn't stop watching. He would either find a clue he had missed or would enact punishment on himself for failing his boys all at once. Every time he wanted to cringe over a new splatter of blood or cry out at the sight of another gunshot in his oldest, Bruce reminded himself that he deserved these feelings of anguish.

Bruce replayed the ending again, watching as the instigator of the masked, armed talons spoke to Dick and had his accomplice smother him. Most likely chloroform, Bruce mused. Bruce confirmed that Lincoln March was the one to retrieve his sons but he hadn't been able to tell much else.

He had retrieved every camera footage and recording from every angle of the building but no one had been able to catch where his sons were dragged to.

Bruce suspected that they had hacked the cameras from somewhere close by as his sons were being attacked but they must be beyond professional as the recording that Bruce got a hold of held no evidence of tampering. Bruce wasn't sure why there was so much effort put into this cover up. The Court of Owls couldn't have thought that some local business owners in the ghetto would catch on to a hacked CTV camera? The Court also must have known Bruce would be able to connect the dots and deduce who had taken his sons, with or without the professional footage tampering. Bruce could only theorize that the over-the-top display of skill was a power move to show Bruce how skilled the Court was in every aspect. They must know that Bruce was still mostly in the dark in regard to the Court, their danger, and their motives. This exemplary display of tech tampering was their way of dropping hints as to how good they were.

Bruce narrowed his eyes...The Court of Owls was bragging.

He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to slam his fists against his desktop monitor again. He might break it if he kept abusing his electronics.

Superman and Wonderman were doing aerial flybys over Bludhaven and Gotham, trying to figure out where the boys might be. Bruce was almost certain they wouldn't be able to find them though. Dick, Tim, and Damian all had trackers underneath their skin on their upper arms. They were due to last about 5 months but either way, Bruce hadn't been able to access their trackers to confirm their location. A small part of him hoped that Superman wouldn't be able to find his boys through the sound of their cries either.

Bruce suspected this was either from the trackers being removed by the Court or the boys being placed somewhere so dense and barricaded that Superman wouldn't been able to see through the structural integrity of their compound. Maybe some form of a Kryptonite and adamantium steel combination. Clark still insisted on looking.

There were a few specific tunnels that no one could access due to the depth being so great that carbon monoxide gas had gathered over the years of Gotham's construction and pollution. This had caused the tunnels to fill with clear toxic gas that could not be smelled easily. Bruce easily singled those out as the boys could not have been brought into those tunnels as live hostages. That left 80% of the rest of Gotham's and Bludhaven's underground though.

Bruce felt despair swell in his chest and overtake his fury momentarily. It seemed hopeless, what if Bruce chose the wrong cavern to investigate and happened upon an underground crime ring he hadn't known about, starting another drug war with the Bat and Gotham's criminals; further delaying his search?

Alfred had been down every half hour with food and drink, trying to coax Bruce up to bed. He'd promised that he would wake Bruce after 2 hours but Bruce couldn't sleep even if he was tired. His guilt and self-consuming detriment ate away at his head and heart.

How could he do this? He had unlimited resources at his hands, he should have had someone tailing the boys. He should have had protocols in place for if his electronics were tampered with. He should have forced the boys to let Alfred go with them everywhere.

He should have been there!

Bruce clenched his eyes and inhaled a long hard breath to push away the pain and wetness behind his eyes. His son had been returned to them and Bruce had gone to work instead of being by his side. He had promised Dick that he would be safe, that he could place his trust in Bruce to keep him out of the hands of this unknown group of assassins and criminals. He rarely felt this helpless; ever. Part of being Batman was so that he would never feel like that small weak child in an alley, ever again. He would never have to watch his loved ones suffer because he was incapable of stopping their pain and attacker, but here he was, unable to take on the burden of his oldest son. He was unable to stop their pursuers and it had cost him his sons.

"Master Bruce" Alfred's voice chimed in over the cave intercom, "There is a guest here for yo-"

"Send him down" Bruce barked before he refocused on his screen. It was Clark checking in again. He hadn't left Bruce alone for more than a few hours and was giving unnecessary updates on his search from the skies.

Bruce had already impressed upon the other Justice League members that unless they actually found something, they didn't need to bother him. Clark had ignored that directive and was still checking in on Bruce occasionally. It was most likely because the boy in blue believed Bruce to be crumbling. Bruce was indeed fraying at the edges, but his mental focus and acuity had never been more on point. He had something crucial to focus on and Bruce thrived in high-stress atmospheres.

"Are you sure Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

Bruce sighed before reigning in his tone, "Yes" he said simply. Alfred didn't deserve his irritation and anger. The butler had just lost all of his grandsons at once, the man was struggling to find ways to help as well. He was even contacting any east coast MI5 agents from back in his militant days with the British armed forces.

Bruce leaned back as he reviewed the additional evidence he laid out on his large screens. The boys' locations were MIA and there was no way to trace the one clue the court had left for them.

Should Bruce reach out to his underground contacts like Selena or Ivy? Would they be able to put out a message that the Batman was willing to talk?

He sighed, maybe he was wasting his time and should just scour the sewers until he found his boys. Dick had never been able to confirm exactly where he escaped or entered from. He just remembered multiple memories and visions of the same dense concrete hallways.

"Well, I'll admit I'm surprised it was this easy" a deep voice purred.

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he jolted out of his musings and spun around to find Deatnstroke in the cave. Bruce growled as Slade shrugged a shoulder, "I thought it would be harder to get in and have a word with you" he said smoothly.

Bruce stood suddenly and clenched his fists he he realized there were no weapons on his person. He'd have to make it across the room to the sparring mats where the staff and Damian's swords were racked. Bruce glowered darkly as he considered if it would be worth it to attack Deathstroke and take some of his frustration out on an opponent who could take a punch.

Slade Wilson was in his civies, save for a few weapons strewn across his torso. He had a simple t-shirt on beneath a tan leather jacket. His jeans were clean and pressed but he wasn't trying too hard to hide the 2 guns inside his jacket, the knives under his jeans, or the small hand pistol strapped to his combat boots. His white hair was clean and slicked back against the nape of his neck and his eye patch was firmly set.

Slade grinned as if he knew his presence alone would instigate Bruce's ire, "You thought I was one of your little search party parol members, didn't you?" he taunted lightly.

Bruce grunted, "What do you want Wilson? You seemed eager enough to lay low and under my radar when we needed information on Nightwing's time with the Court"

Slade shrugged again as he peered around the cave and its equipment, "Just because I'm invested in your oldest, doesn't mean I can take vacation days that easily. A man's gotta work, Bruce"

Slade stopped his meandering and shot Bruce a flippant teasing look, "Well.. most men" he said. Slade dragged his eyes from bottom to top in a condescending manner.

Bruce stood and straightened his back as much as possible, "Either get out or tell me why you've decided to show yourself now, coward"

Slade tsked as he took a step towards Bruce, "Come on, Wayne. You know it isn't a coincidence. You found out about Richard and mine's little rendezvous' and convinced him not to go out anymore, so I kept watch from afar. I had to make sure you didn't fuck the boy over again"

He stopped walking and faced Bruce head-on, "I was right at least, you've now not only lost Richard but you lost his brothers as well. In broad daylight, it seems" Slade intoned, "I'm not upset, I'm just disappointed, Bruce" Slade mocked.

Bruce gritted his teeth and considered charging Deathstroke. "They hacked your equipment, correct?"

Bruce crossed his arms and didn't reply.

Slade nodded as if Bruce had confirmed his question, "They shut down 4 of my safe houses and my surrounding tech as well. I didn't know Richard was gone until I booted it back up later that day". "If you knew all of this, why are you just reaching out now?"

"I was under the impression you wanted me to stay away?"

"You aren't now"

"Now, it's apparent that you can't be trusted to watch 1 traumatized young man, much less 4" Slade sneered.

Bruce snarled and took a step forward threateningly, "Don't test me, Wilson. Who knows what the Court could be doing to Dick again, much less Hood, Red Robin, and Robin"

Slade didn't reply but his eyebrow ticked up in monotonous exasperation as if to say, 'You think I don't know that?'

"I'll ask one more time" Bruce gritted out, "Why. Are. You. Here?"

"Just to confirm a few suspicions before I start my own search" Slade replied cooly.

"You can't locate the boys through their little dog chips, correct?"

After a moment, Bruce nodded.

Slade nodded as if he suspected that already, "While I'm not certain, I do believe they are still in Gotham, underground"

"Most likely" Bruce rumbled.

Slade glanced at the screen behind Bruce, "Well it looks like you and your girl scouts are already eliminating some of those underground tunnels for us" Slade observed.

Bruce didn't like the 'us' that Slade threw in. Just because they were both looking for Dick, didn't mean they were a team. The moment Slade Wilson found Dick, Bruce would bet half of Wayne Enterprises that Slade would leave the rest of his sons to their peril and just rescue Dick. Even then, the word rescue was very ambiguous in Deathstroke's terms. The man could redefine anything to fit his own agenda. He was one of the only other people Bruce had ever met that liked wordplay as much as Dick.

"There is no 'we' Bruce told Slade sternly.

Slade looked over his shoulder from where he was starting to rifle through some papers left on a desk close to the stairs, "Oh? And why is that? Because of my title or because you want to throw your little self-sacrificial tantrum alone?"

Bruce snarled and narrowed his eyes as Slade's eye filled with glee, "Don't mistake me for your boys, Bruce. I call it like I see it" Slade crossed his arms haughtily, "And you are a very selfish immature man. You throw most of your tantrums just so that Richard will come and appease the emotional floundering side of your soul"

Bruce opened his mouth but Slade kept on, "You start fights with Jason when any mature parent would know to never instigate your most hot-headed child. You let Timmothy grow up much too fast so that you had someone to stay up until 4 am and drink coffee with. Need I continue?"

Bruce had schooled his emotions halfway through Slade's tirade and met his gaze head-on. "There is no 'we' because you can't be trusted. I can't trust you with Dick and I can't trust you to put my other boys ahead of your own safety and interests"

Slade nodded, "Well, you were always logical" Slade replied, "Dick was always right about that. No, Bruce, you can't trust me. But would you rather turn away my aid and risk your boys any more than they already have been?"

Slade pretended to inspect his nails, "You're right on one thing. Who knows what they're doing to Dick this time around. Most would assume they've learned from his last captivity and are more effective this time"

Bruce felt his breath catch, "What do you mean more effective? What do you know Wilson?"

"Sorry, we aren't partners. I don't share information that easily, Wayne"

Bruce took a deep breath and cursed whatever God genuinely dictated his world. Wilson was right. He would much rather get going and gather some aid to save his boys on a risky move than wait who knows how long to save them on his own.

Bruce moved to put down his empty cup when he realized he had run out of space on his desktop. Bruce sighed at the 10 other coffee cups before him. He moved to call Alfred over the intercom when the digital clock on his touch screen caught his attention.

4:46 AM

Alfred was surely asleep and Bruce didn't want to disturb him. He would be up around 5 or 6 am anyway. Alfred was a godsend, working to keep any fallouts with Lucious and Wayne Ent. to a minimum since he ran out on his last board meeting and never went back to work.

Bruce rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he peered over his shoulder grumpily to spy Slade Wilson leaning back casually at a desk parallel to his. Slade was reviewing different files in his hand while he had an unattended iPad propped up in his lap; his large limber legs were splayed out over Bruce's desk. Bruce despised that man. Clark, Diana, and the others had been adamant that working with Wilson would be a bad idea but Bruce had informed them that this was his mission, his city, and his children. If they didn't like his methods they could leave anytime.

Bruce knew they wouldn't, they loved Dick dearly. He had wormed his way into every Justice League member's heart within his first 2 years of being at the Bat's side. They had continued as they were and pretended that Slade wasn't always in the corner of the cave, but Bruce didn't have time to feel guilt over the treatment of his comrades.

Slade's chair creaked slightly as he leaned back more before he sat up fully and caught the touchpad before it slipped down his thighs.

"This says you have checked the original transport tunnels," Slade asked without looking at Bruce.

Bruce spun around fully to look at Wilson, "Those are the deepest tunnels that filled with monoxide and other hazardous gases early on" Bruce replied.

"That wasn't my question" Slade intoned as if speaking to a child that kept insisting on the wrong answer being right.

Bruce exhaled heavily, "Yes" he ground out, "I ruled those tunnels out first"

Slade nodded absent-mindedly, "Who went down there? Superman or Martian Man Hunter or Wonder Woman?"

Bruce's brow furrowed. Did Deathstroke not hear him, those tunnels were filled with poisonous gas that was reconfirmed by city officials every 5 years, since the equipment to do so was made possible.

Slade looked up when Bruce didn't answer and he saw something on Bruce's face that answered Slade's inquiry.

"You never actually checked those tunnels out?" he confirmed again.

"Gotham City officials check those tunnels every few years, there is nothing down there but poisonous air" Bruce replied coldly.

Slade leaned his head back and took a deep breath as if trying to maintain his patience, "You mean to tell me that you, the Great Detective, just took a city official's word on if there was a cult in the sewers? After how many cops are bribed in this pitiful city..."

Bruce glared deepened, "I have been down there. My breathing equipment never got me further than 20 minutes down there and there have never been any signs of life"

Slade faced Bruce as well, "Am I hearing this correctly?" Slade shook his head scornfully, "You've made it too easy on them, Wayne. Chances are that your boys are down there"

Bruce shook his head, "Even if they took the boys down a tunnel that was filled with toxic air and hazardous particles, they'd have to supply every single one of their members with face masks and breathing equipment for every second of the day. To do that, they'd have to have an equipment transport system set up to bring in new oxygen and masks at least every other day, probably every day. The semantics are too difficult and we would have noticed something if this were the case, Wilson" Bruce sneered.

Slade's eye narrowed at Bruce's tone before he slapped a specific piece of paper face up on the table before Bruce. He leaned down into the younger man's face, "Are you truly this stupid?" he spat. "The 4 tunnels you never checked yourself for more than 20 minutes are the same group of tunnels that your boy in blue can't see through because of the amount of metal that had been compounded underground"

Bruce glared back with equal spite but felt realization slowly start to trickle in. What if Wilson was right, a small voice asked. It truly was the only tunnel he had ruled out so far without actually investigating himself. Superman wasn't able to see through the floor, and Bruce hadn't found his boys yet. The letters he'd found had all been at the entrances of the tunnels he'd personally ruled out. What if they were trying to lead him away from those tunnels on purpose?

If they had a new serum that rivaled the one pumping through Deathstroke, then why couldn't they create something that would shield them from Superman's impeccable vision?

Bruce felt Slade fade away as his mind began to spin with possibilities. His boys might be there, he might've disregarded their true location too early. What if the Court found some way to hide behind the gas, they were manmade immortals, after all.

Bruce spun around, still ignoring Wilson's increasingly smug aura, and started to pull up every city confirmation he had. Gotham had only been able to send employees into the tunnels and confirm the toxicity levels of the air in 2001. Before that, the equipment was only available to the military or not tested enough to be used reliably. Anything could have been taking place before 2001 and even now, officials reported turning back once toxicity levels in the air were measured to be greater than the percentage of oxygen in the tunnel's air.

He focused on the reports in front of him and concentrated. He'd even had each employee's background vetted and confirmed to weed out any payoffs or possible corruption. He knew he should call Clark or Diana back, they would want to know and to be involved, but after their disagreement, Bruce was hesitant to reach out first. Unfortunately, Dick was always the natural when it came to extending the olive branch. It was the most likely reason Bruce hadn't been driven out of his son's lives nor the Justice League itself. He hated that he could hear some of Wilson's words about his dependency on Dick's good nature ringing true in his head. Ever since Dick was a teenager, he'd usually been by Bruce's side to smooth things over and give the much-needed sympathetic and humane touch to their interactions.

Bruce looked up to see Slade had taken a step back but once their eyes connected a dark grin spread across Slade's face.

"Let's go get my apprentice back" he purred.