Bruce did his best to take note of every single thing he saw as they passed by rows and rows of simple, plain hallways. It was understandable that Dick had a difficult time recounting what their compound looked like, even with a clear memory and recall most people would struggle with remembering anything unique in all this monotonous grey. He and Deathstroke had tried to escape but were easily overrun by the Court's meta soldiers. Bruce was more desperate than ever to know exactly what flowed through their veins. Dick never displayed strength on this scale and that worried the detective because the small part of his brain that refused to place absolute faith and trust in even his family wondered if his son was holding back that whole time?
Bruce tried counting the seconds as they walked to confirm how deep into the compound they were but found it difficult to accurately gage because they were frequently stopped and waved through security door after security door.
"The masks are unnecessary now" Cobb had said after the second door.
Bruce's hands had been cuffed in front of him and Slade's behind his back. Unless it was for show, Bruce wasn't sure why they thought unregulated non-meta handcuffs would do anything against Wilson.
They were walked down hallway after hallway before finally coming to a particular turn. Bruce felt Wilson tense beside him and wondered what the meta heard or sensed to their right. They were ushered further into the new hallway and Bruce felt his chest constrict in fear and relief all at once. His boys were chained to the wall behind them, splayed out and chatting quietly behind large metal barred doors…well, most of his sons. Bruce did his best to refrain from any sharp movement or emotions but his boys looked up upon hearing footsteps approach. Jason looked worse for wear and had rust-colored dried blood smeared across his upper arms and face, His t-shirt was torn at the shoulders and he was in nothing else but ratty jeans and socks. Tim and Damian appeared to be doing slightly better with fewer visible injuries. All of their bright attractive eyes were dulled and shadowed with stress and lack of sleep. His boys should never have bags that severe under their eyes, Bruce thought grimly.
"B!" Tim said in shock.
"Father!" Damian exclaimed.
Jason became much more alert but sat up straighter without a word. They watched as he and Deathstroke were frog-marched to stand before the barred cell. Bruce was relieved to see that all signs pointed towards them all being held in the same vicinity.
"Well now, it's this nice?"
Bruce felt the urge to snap at Cobb but refrained and merely looked at him from the side. Cobb's beard was ticked up slightly in a smirk.
"I won't demand any gratitude but I would like to point out that it would be very easy to house you all separately, especially your boys"
Batman and Deathstroke stayed silent. Cobb turned to a slightly small man who was dressed in full-body combat gear and tactical chest equipment. The only thing visible were his eyes because his gold goggles were pushed up into his brown hair. Batman narrowed his eyes, that was the man who lead the mission to take his sons on the roof; he'd watched that recording too many times not to know who took his sons.
'Lincoln' Bruce thought darkly.
"You can only hope to instill quality manners and attributes while they're young" he sighed to his companion. Lincoln looked to Cobb and nodded slightly.
Cobb turned back to Bruce and Slade, "I can't say I'm surprised any of your boys turned out the way they did" he sniffed, "After all, you were orphaned and excluded from Gotham's quality demographic much too early, and you" he turned his judgmental gaze to Deathstroke, "Are lucky to have made it out as the lowlife bastard that you are"
Slade grinned, "My parents were actually married, thank you"
Cobb rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, "It'll be a treat to see this attitude and hope diminish as reality sets in"
Lincoln and the others moved forward on Cobb's signal. They crowded Bruce and Slade and began to forcefully remove their outer armor and gear. Bruce jerked against their holds but quickly found himself restrained by multiple metas and shoved into the barred door. His armor and chest pieces were removed. His cape and cowell were tugged off and he was groped relentlessly until they were confident that he had no more hidden compartments or weapons.
He watched from his peripheral as the Court's servants struggled with Slade's tightfitting under armor. After his mask and chest piece, everything was skin-tight and taunt against the mercenary's bulky form. Eventually, Lincoln whipped out a knife and started slicing down the kevlar padding and gauntlets. Bruce and Slade were left in just their basic sparring-appropriate shirt and pants, their combat boots, and nothing more. He did his best to ignore his boys behind him. He knew Cobb was removing his security and defenses from him in front of his boys as a show of dominance.
Cobb clapped his hands, "Well then, that seems to be about everything". He gestured slightly to the right, "Gentlemen"
Bruce and Derathstoke were ushered 10 feet to the left of the boys' cell and shoved into an identical one. They could see the boys but were technically held separately from them. There was only one single-slitted wall separating him from his sons. He stayed stiff to resist his handlers but was kicked in the back of the knees and forced down. He and Deathstroke were chained similarly to the boys. Their wrists were bound behind them and connected to the wall; luckily they weren't short chains. Bruce suspected it might be enough to kneel and straighten up.
He watched Copbb with a deadly glare as the talons tightened his restraints and double-checked Slade before stepping back.
Cobb took that as his cue and paced forward with his hands behind his back, "You know, your second oldest is a loose canon, Bruce. If it wasn't for Timmothy being for the voice of reason, you might be down one son just from the inconvenience of his presence"
"You wouldn't dare" Bruce growled.
Cobb smiled grimly, "It's not as if all my blackmail would be gone. I would have 2 more. Besides, I suspect Jason is where Richard has learned many of his poor habits from"
Cobb put a hand to his chest and shook his head, "My god, the crude vocabulary that boy thinks he can use in my presence has increased tenfold!" He clapped his hands suddenly, "All the more reason to increase his training and integration"
Slade appeared very relaxed and comfortable on the floor with his tree trunk legs spread out before him, "We all know that half of that boy's appeal is his personality" Slade said.
Cobb nodded, "All too true, mercenary. Which is why it's so important that his training is completed, and completed correctly this time"
"If you touch him-"
"Come now, dear detective. It's taken you this long to get down here and you think you can make demands? I'd be more worried about how poor Richard is feeling about his delayed rescue"
"We've been over this!" Jason yelled from his side of the cell, "You can't have him, fucker!"
Cobb didn't turn to face Jason but rolled his eyes while still facing Slade and Bruce, "Do you see what I have to deal with?" he sighed exasperatedly.
"It's no use father!" Damian raised his voice, "They are too dense to accept that Richard will not bow to these low lifes"
"Hold your tongue, lest I have it removed, boy" Cobb snapped suddenly.
"Well isn't this wholesome" Cobb said with a grandfatherly smile, "I will let you all get acquainted and catch up. Although I can't say there will be too much to share. What with your boys having been in confinement this entire time and you having only found us by accident if I'm being truthful" After his last statement, Cobb's eyes flickered to Deathstroke and a dark haze overtook the frosty blue hue.
Cobb turned on his heel and nodded to Lincoln on the way out. The rest of the men followed Cobb without a word. The older man stopped outside the door once it had been closed and locked. He looked back to Bruce with a pitying expression, "I have other duties to attend to, namely Richard, but I will be back"
Cobb was barely around the corner when Damian spoke up, "Father! What is the plan? We haven't been able to find them yet, but we are almost certain there are cameras"
Deathstroke snorted, "That's cute, he thinks this is still part of the plan"
Jason cursed and thumped his head backward, "It took you forever and now we're all fucking trapped" he complained.
"Jason, we are under a portion of Gotham that hasn't been touched in years. Most likely since the 1900's"
Jason rolled his eyes, "And?"
"Jason" Tim hissed. He turned to Bruce, "Why does that matter?" he said calmly.
Bruce was thankful it wasn't just him and Jason down here or working together would be an impossible task and escaping would be even more far-fetched.
"We had to have facial rebreathers reconstructed and improved to get down here. The metal and density of the air have forced the pollution of Gotham to concentrate"
"So what if the air down here is just as bad as the air up there? Half the kids in Gotham are born with asthma nowadays"
"I like my kids better" Slade intoned beside Bruce.
Bruce glared at Slade and Jason, "The air isn't just unhealthy, Jason it's literally toxic. The air down here is almost pure carbon monoxide, no one can breathe it so I assumed it was impossible for you boys to be down here"
Jason grabbed his chest and looked at Bruce with a bland look, "I hate to break it to ya, old man. We've been breathing this air for almost a month now"
Bruce contained his surprise the best he could but Slade must have allowed something through and Tim caught it.
"What? Bruce?" his expression hardened, "How long have we been down here?"
"3 months"
Jason's eyes widened at that, "There's no fucking clocks and we only get to talk to one chick…are you kidding me?"
Damian was just as shocked, "Father, we must help Richard. We've only seen him once and he was awful and-"
He stopped himself as he suddenly remembered the image of a beat and bloody Richard being dragged away.
Bruce saw the struggle in his youngest and wished he could offer more support.
"He-He didn't look great Bruce" Tim finished.
Jason snorted, "He was being dragged away, he looked worse than 'not great'"
"How have you been treated?" Bruce asked his sons, "Has everything been alright…for the most part?"
He knew there must have been a few instances that took place considering Jason looked slightly thrashed and his other boys looked malnourished.
Jason shrugged, "We're given fresh underwear every day but these jeans are really starting to smell"
Tim agreed, "They give us some basics every day. We tried escaping a few times but Jason only got close once. Now I'm glad he didn't actually get out if the air would've killed him"
"Better than here" Jason muttered.
"We get fed in turns so none of us are ever uncuffed all at once….I am also slowly starting to understand Richard when he promised me he almost died of boredom one time" Damian reported.
"What about fuckface over there" Jason suggested to Slade, "Can't he break out of these handcuffs?"
Bruce was wondering the same thing but couldn't voice it in front of their captors.
"These seem to be meta-dampening cuffs," Slade said simply, "They feel like regular handcuffs do to you"
Bruce tested his binds as best he could while he looked around their new cell. It wasn't large and was just as desolate looking as the rest of the Court's compound.
"Well", Slade said suddenly. He eased back into his seated position and tipped his head back like he was taking a nap, "We might as well get comfortable and wait for William to return"
"How do you know him?" Tim asked, "We all know you've known more than you let on about the Court"
Slade didn't reply and kept his eyes closed.
"Is he pretending to sleep?" Tim asked the room incredulously.
Jason sniggered, "At least someone here has a sense of humor"
Gray Son struggled to contain his trembling as Lincoln laid a towel over his shoulders. It never helped after these particular sessions but he always accepted it because he liked the small flutter of warmth in his chest that Lincoln's kindness gave him. This time had been 'water conditioning' although if we were being honest, it didn't feel very strengthening. His training was improving and he had to contend with more opponents and targets in combat and shooting practice. Grandmaster told him he did a good job today, and then he had to fuck it up by asking questions. Grandmaster said they were family and that he could trust his grandfather. Gray had been having more dreams about the black man and the pirate, so he asked about them. He asked Grandmaster if he knew them.
Grandmaster ordered Gray Son to forget them, he said that they were bad news and a horrible influence. He said that Gray Son's life would be better if he forgot everything about them and focused on the present reality. Gray Son was set, he'd gotten his answer and had even received praise that day for his efforts in sparring and combat practice. Then he had to say one word….why.
Gray Son had asked why and Grandmaster had lost his temper. Gray Son had been thrown into isolation and then went straight to water rehabilitation. Gray Son was pretty sure it was called dunking or waterboarding though. In all honestly, Gray Son still wasn't quite sure why he couldn't have received an explanation. He understood that the mean boys and the pirate were bad for him. They never appeared in his dreams and made him feel good. If anything, they were usually mean and cruel. In the better dreams, they weren't mean but made him feel sorrowful. But he wanted to know why forgetting them would make him a better tool for the Court. He wanted to understand why forgetting them would make him better and more at peace. Was it literally just as simple as removing them from his thoughts would remove his sadness?
Gray Son found that hard to believe but Grandmaster had no patience for anyone testing his word. His word was law and as a Talon, Gray Son couldn't cross him or argue with him. He was also his grandfather so Gray Son owed him some level of respect…apparently. He tried not to think too hard, as pathetic as that sounded. Focusing on conflicting and confusing thoughts gave him a migraine. If his dreams were filled with a black man with large ears or a pirate they were filled with flashes of bright red and glowing veridian green. He always saw different shades. Sometimes the green was shaped like small almond eyes that looked tired from glaring too often. Sometimes they glowed with rage and filled Gray's vision until there was nothing but greengreengreen. Sometimes the green was deeper and swirled with a soft blue that crinkled like it was trying to convey a positive emotion but it came across as too awkward.
It helped to focus on whatever he was able to listen to. He mentioned the chaos in his head calming when there was music or someone speaking for him to focus on. The next day, a doctor came by and gave him a shot, and let him listen to some soothing recordings. He could barely remember what the playbacks were of; sometimes they sounded like the same words being repeated over and over again, while other times it sounded like old drill commands being spoken calmly and repetitively.
Gray sighed, it was no use moping over things he couldn't change. His purpose was to improve for the betterment of the Court and his Grandfather. He'd ruined the day with his big mouth and loose lips but more attitude wouldn't solve anything. He was usually only given about a 30-minute break to catch his breath after punishments anyway. Grandmaster asked him not to call them punishments and to try seeing them as practice pushing his boundaries, but they still felt like punishments.
"You feeling better?"
Gray glanced at Lincoln from his peripheral but didn't reply. He could only get away with attitude and sass with Lincoln Logs because Lincoln said his personality is half the fun.
"Come on, Gray" Lincoln sighed. He nudged his shoulder to get him standing.
His head was still slightly foggy from the lack of air and the concentration of frigidly cold water in his sinuses. His eyes stung like there was chlorine in them as well. Gray sniffed and pulled his scratchy towel closer. Lincoln sighed and motioned to someone. Gray realized he'd thought they were alone this whole time. A man in a lab coat approached them with something in his right hand. He was equipped with latex gloves and a small face mask over his mouth. The two men nodded to each other before Lincoln stepped closer and grasped the sides of his face with both hands. Lincoln's hands were rough from training and too much equipment handling, but they were familiar and familiar felt safe. Gray caught Lincoln's gaze and noticed that the bright lights of certain rooms made his brown eyes seem almost hazel of chocolate.
'I like chocolate', Gray thought aloud, causing Lincoln to smile at his impulsive thoughts.
Gray didn't feel an inkling of motivation to resist or question the strange hold, content to let Lincoln direct his gaze to him at that moment. The doctor stepped closer and Gray hissed as he felt a pinch on his upper arm. Lincoln held tight and wouldn't let him move his head to look at the doctor or where he was given a shot.
After a moment Lincoln smiled warmly like Gray had passed a secret test. He swiped a thumb across his cheekbone before he released his face and stepped back. Gray's feet were feeling more like lead and less like feet. Wait, no, they were feeling more like water and less like legs. His head was still cloudy but now in a different sort of way. He touched the tips of his fingers together, relishing in the feeling of contact, even if it was just himself.
Lincoln seemed to find something amusing in his vacant stare and small movements, "You feeling better?" he asked again.
It took him a moment but he nodded. Lincoln smiled at that. It made Gray want to smile back.
Bruce watched grimly as his cell door was closed and he was left to pull himself together. Bruce was always chained to the wall by his arms and legs, but was allowed one hand while he was given his meager food each day. One guard always stayed until he was done and it made him curious as to what the boys pulled to make this a policy amongst their prisoners now. Wilson was kept chained to the far while in a similar position but was given a daily shot before each meal. It didn't do anything besides slow him down. Wilson reported the feeling as multiple sedatives or a coffee crash for non-metas. The syringes were a blue/green color and it made Bruce wonder as to the connection between the sedatives and Dick's dreaded cryo shots.
They hadn't been fed today but that wasn't uncommon. The boys were given 2-3 meals while he and Deathstroke were provided 1 if they were lucky. The only reliable constant in their captivity was their daily interrogation. They'd each be dragged off to a different room and questioned on the Batman's activities, fighting methods, and styles. He would be smacked around and doused in cold water if he didn't divulge any new information on Dick's upbringing, Wayne Enterprises' newest military contracts and more. The Court knew a lot, but they didn't know everything and were determined to lessen that information barrier. While Bruce didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for the man, he couldn't help but notice that Deathstroke came back from his own private sessions much worse for wear than Bruce. He was often oozing blood where Bruce would be bruised, but his healing factor had only been slowed, not stopped so Bruce suspected that the Court's servants were also practicing interrogation tactics while testing the meta's true recovery abilities.
They'd both been stripped down so while the boys were in their street civilian clothes from when they were kidnapped, he and Wilson were in their padded body suits. Their armor had been confiscated along with their gloves, gauntlets, weapons, and boots.
While Bruce despised the idea of losing his armor and the technology embedded in it, he was more worried about the boys' state. They had no jackets or coverings and had been in the same clothes since their kidnapping.
Tim had informed Bruce that the Court was doing the bare minimum to prevent serious harm though. Apparently, the Court allowed the boys a new change of underwear each day, during their individual bathroom breaks, to prevent any bacteria or infection from spreading. It didn't stop the odor or smell from permanently attaching to their bodies though.
Even though Bruce and Deathstroke were separated from the boys, they could still see them in their cells. Bruce was relieved to be able to talk with them, even though he knew the Court was always listening. It allowed him to determine the internal state of his boys. Damian was still in good spirits as he took every chance to complain to Bruce and plan punishments for individual members of the Court of Owls. Tim was trying to stay optimistic and motivated, but Jason was the hardest to read. Bruce wasn't sure if his second oldest was raging quietly inside or slowly losing hope. He spent more of his time glowering at others and shifting positions.
He must have been the one to take the fall for any escape attempts because he was the only one who was truly injured. He wasn't harmed routinely but wasn't taken care of either so his injuries and bruises were healing incredibly slow. The cold air and lack of proper food hindered his body's pace as well.
They'd been here for a while now. Bruce's internal clock told it had been a few days at least but, as the boys reported, it was difficult to tell time with the state of their confinement.
He'd learned the pattern and routine his boys had been living this entire time over the last day or two. He'd only slept once or twice but tried to stay awake to see how his boys had been treated. They received portioned meals 2 or 3 times a day while he and Slade received 1 or 2; if they were lucky. The boys were always fed by a young girl with a short braid and thick hair. She looked about Damian's age but with Dick's coloring and lighter skin. She was in full body gear and only let one person eat at a time with 1 hand; while being watched. Bruce felt the urge to smirk, his boys had caused a ruckus and made the Court of Owls weary of them. Everyone was quiet at the moment and his boys were sleeping. Wilson hadn't moved in a bit so Bruce wasn't sure if he was faking sleep to catch valuable information or if he was truly resting. The man took almost nothing seriously so Bruce was pretty convinced he was genuinely asleep after one a day or 2 captive.
Bruce rested his chin or his chest and tried to relax his neck muscles to keep from any strain or cramps from making their home in him. He heard footsteps pass them every now and then but he did his best to stay lax. He would either rest and regain some energy and strength or he'd catch a conversation they only felt comfortable speaking before unconscious people. Nothing was guaranteed but a short time later, Bruce picked up on multiple steps of feet walking at the same pace. They were leisurely so Bruce guessed that they didn't have a set destination in mind. One set of feet was crisper and the other was heavier but quiet. They stopped close to him but directly in front of his position.
There was no sound or spoken words for a while and Bruce almost opened his eyes to confirm there were people in front of them.
"Have you contacted Al Ghul?"
"Yes. He was doubtful that we had his grandson and the detective."
"He listened though?"
"Yes, the addition about Timmothy did indeed pique his interest"
"He's on his way?"
"Yes"
….
"How is the boy?"
…."Better"
"You worry for him"
"It's hard not to. I know we didn't keep our association or bond subtle the first time he was with us, but it's difficult not to fall back into that mindset"
"He's a difficult person to resist"
"We need to resolve his memory relapses if he is to stay with us permanently"
"He will stay with us perman-"
"I misspoke. I meant willingly…He-he is still connected to the Bat. He dreams of him and his brothers a lot"
"They are not his family"
"I know they aren't but…they are. At least until he stops viewing them as so"
"That boy gives out his loyalty like cheap business cards in the great depression"
The younger of the two let out a breathy chuckle.
"Distance and time will help cement his true place. Distance and time help heal all wounds"
"I think they'd be much quicker to call us the wound"
The older of the 2 took a deep breath, "They have used and abused his skills and loyalty for far too long. Our boy is as whipped and tarnished from their toxic love as they think he was from our training"
"He has died in our care. I don't think we have the right to verbalize that we haven't abused him"
"Watch your mouth boy"
…..
"My apologies, Grandmaster"
"You're lucky I've let you attach yourself to that pathetic boy and cater to his whimsy emotions"
"Thank you. Grandmaster"
The older voice let loose a long exhale, "We are lucky we have unlimited time now that he has gone through the process, but keep in mind that the Court will never let him live free. If the Court cannot have him, he will be executed"
"We can hide him? We have only put him to sleep a few times, but we can put the plan on hold until the others have outlived him. We only need 40-50 years until the Bat is dead and his children aren't physically capable of resisting us"
"We may have to consider alternatives like that if this year does not go as planned"
"The conditioning is working well"
"That is good to hear but conditioned phrases will only go so far in a true battle or test of loyalty…Where is he now?"
"Resting"
"Good. Was he given an additional dosage?"
"Yes. I oversaw it. Dr. Amanik said that he is wary of how drowsy the LSD combination makes him"
"Side effects are fine as long as he is not dying. I want you there for every injection"
"I will be"
"Come, we have other duties to attend to while that troublemaker is resting"
Bruce maintained his slack facade while the footsteps echoed to his left. He cracked his eyes open a sliver, just in time to catch the back of a black suit and white hair.
Bruce watched them go as the gears turned over in his head.
"You better hope they don't go with plan B"
Bruce turned to look at Slade, who still appeared completely limp and asleep against the wall they were bound to.
Bruce didn't reply so Slade opened his eye and gave Bruce a small knowing smile, "Just imagine it. The Bat dead. The Bat boys are all 60 and 70, too old to be a threat. And Dick, aaaallllll alone and no more than 21, maybe 22. His only ally; Slade Wilson"
Bruce felt his face heating with rage and snarled lowly, "That will never happen. Cut the shit, Wilson"
Deathstroke grinned, "Then you better get us out of here, Brucie"
Bruce leaned in, "I'm going to enjoy finding my son, alive and well. Then turning around and leaving you to rot down here"
"At least we're more than 6 feet under" A voice chimed in.
Bruce turned to look across the way to see Jason looking at the two of them with a small smirk.
"Did you have a nice rest kid? I know that teenagers need at least 8 hours" Slade taunted lightly.
Jason didn't respond. His gaze was firmly set on Bruce, and Bruce could feel the solidarity of Jason's stare conveying his determination to Bruce's words. They would escape, they would find Dick, make him well and happy again. And then leave Slade Wilson to rot in this cell, 6 feet under.
Their group sat there for a few more days. Bruce ate everything that was given to him and made sure all his kids did so as well. The lack of sunlight and activity was taking its toll on his boys. Damian had a permanent headache and Tim was nauseous half the time. Bruce stayed firm and forced them to eat every time that girl came by. Tim called her Ella but Bruce didn't like his effort to reach out. She'd most likely been here since birth or very young. She had almost no chance of being turned or having genuine sympathy for Tim and his brothers. She was merely a loose end and a walking guilt trip. Tim was in the middle of telling Bruce everything he'd suspected of how their door locks worked when they heard a group walking towards them. They all fell silent and watched as Cobb came into view with his hands behind his back. At his side was Lincoln, their Talon. Behind them were 3 other men in full-court uniforms, they were pushing a stand while another held something long and sleek in his arms. They stopped before their cell, halfway between both separations, and started to set up the stand and other objects.
Bruce watched Cobb as he stayed silent and observed his prisoners. Lincoln Marsh stayed slightly to his left, just as quiet. Bruce quickly realized that they were setting up some sort of TV or broadcasting system. He felt cautiousness start whispering in his ear. What were they planning? Bruce did his best to smother the dread that he felt as he thought back to the conversation he heard about Ra's. Was Cobb planning to sell them to the League of Shadows? For what? Money? Favors? The system was set up but not turned on. Cobb stepped forward to gather the prisoners' attention. His gaze was dark and severe like the color of ice that frostbitten people see before death sets in.
"I wanted to stop by to let you know how Richard is doing," he said simply. The severe silence that met his statement made Cobb's voice almost echo in the small room.
Bruce kept his face blank and watched Cobb steadily.
Cobb's gaze roamed over the people before him, "His training regime has increased every day and his durability has been heightened" Cobb tried to resist smiling, but the corner of his lip ticked up, "He is quickly becoming a masterpiece. Sooner than anticipated actually, so", Cobb clapped his hands together, "We are going to discuss our next steps; mainly what is going to happen to you lot"
Bruce straightened up, "You're going to sell us to the League of Shadows"
Cobb smiled more deeply, "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to eavesdrop where you aren't welcomed, Bruce…Oh wait"
Bruce couldn't resist glaring as Slade snorted beside him.
"The Shadows are sending a convoy to pick some of you up. The rest of you are going elsewhere"
"We aren't dogs you can ship off for sale" Damian sneered.
Cobb turned towards Bruce's youngest with a malicious sneer, "You are most certainly dogs. Wild. Beneath us. Weaker. Need I go on?"
He turned to Bruce and Slade, "The Shadows have paid quite a sum for your boys, so they are spoken for"
Bruce felt his chest hitch at the word 'boys', " Ra's wants Tim, Damian, and Jason?"
Cobb shook his head, "You misunderstand me. Timmothy and Damian are going back with the convoy. Sionis has already purchased Jason and the Light is currently trying to outbid the Shadows for you, Bruce"
All at once, yells erupted.
"Fuck you! Black Mask doesn't own me!"
"You can't do that! You can't sell us!"
"Nobody owns me!"
Cobb sighed like the commotion was a drain on his energy. He looked to Lincoln who upholstered a gun and loudly checked the clip. The sharp sound of the clip and barrel made everyone quiet down slightly.
"Sending my boys to any of those people is a death wish, Cobb," Bruce said.
Cobb nodded and stared at Bruce expectantly, "And? Do you think I care? Your brood has been a thorn in my plans since Richard turned 8. I've waited many years to be rid of you and now I get to be paid to dispose of you. I see no downside to this"
"I can pay you"
"Hah! Oh, that's rich. No, Bruce, you are not going to be buying your own ransom. The point is to be rid of you. Not to set you loose so you can run amuck once again"
"When is this happening?" Tim asked.
"It is a bit of a 'to be announced ' situation, my boy. The Light is making a bid for the Batman as well and I don't wish to make two trips in case the Shadows do outbid the Light"
"Where is the one eyed-fuck going?" Jason exclaimed angrily. He's shot to his knees and was straining against his bonds.
"Our dear Deathstroke? He's not going anywhere. He'll stay right here and pay his dues"
"What?"
Cobb's eyes widened and a large smile marred his neat beard. He turned to Slade, "They don't know of your involvement? What a joyous turn of events"
Slade's face gave nothing away but his one eye watched Cobb religiously.
Cobb looked at Bruce and the others, "Dear Mr. Wilson here is the sole reason Richard first came into our care, to begin with"
Every head towards Wilson at once.
"Deathstroke was hired to eliminate the Bat brood and bring in Nightwing. He completed half the job so he's lucky he was paid at all but after Richard was brought to us. Deathstroke aided us in some rudimentary conditioning and training exercises. Unfortunately, Mr. Wilson forgot his place and thought it would be a profitable idea to take our Gray Son"
Bruce watched Slade but the man was acting like he was made of stone, "Eventually we caught up to the two and brought Richard back home" Cobb sighed regretfully, "We really should have cut off his head. It would have kept him dead longer"
"Unfortunately, Richard was allowed out too early and got it into his head to start off on his own not too long after. We will be better about the timing of his outdoor excursions moving forward"
Bruce was speechless. The monster before him was acting so nonchalantly about the abuse and imprisonment of his teenage son. On the other hand, the monster to his right had lied about killing and capturing his son as a job for the Court of Owls. He'd tried to take his bruised and beaten son on the run to try and hide him from his family as well.
Bruce's voice was quiet, "Did you shoot him in the thigh?"
Slade looked at Bruce calmly, "No, the gunshot wound on his scalp was me. The Court assured me Richard had already died and gone through the Talon process, and would come back from a lethal shot"
Bruce snapped to his feet but stumbled when he couldn't get taller than his knees. He jerked and reached for Deathstroke but the man merely tensed and watched Bruce like a predator. In the back, Bruce could barely make out the sound of Jason's voice throwing curses like they were grenades in a war. He could barely hear his sons' cries and anger over the sudden buzzing in his ears.
Jason's eyes were lit like a green lame inside a jack-o-lantern. Damian was similarly struggling against his bindings, outrage smeared across his eyes and lips. Tim looked to be in utter shock. His eyes didn't know who to focus on; the man that had dropped this bomb, Deathstroke, Bruce, or his out-of-control siblings. The room had erupted in volume that was 10 times the quiet it had been experiencing so far.
"You low life! You had my son for years and lied to my face!" Bruce snarled.
Slade's face was unreadable, "Technically he was only with me for a year and a half but we can round up if you'd prefer"
"Come now, come now. I didn't come to speak with you to cause another ruckus. God knows your boys can do that all on their own. No, as amusing as this is to watch, I only wanted to inform you of where you are expected to be transported in the near future. Oh, and this"
Cobb nodded to the others who stepped forward and turned on the monitor. It stayed gray for a moment before it flickered and Bruce's breath was stolen. It looked like high-quality CTV color footage.
Of Dick.
At the sudden digital presence of Dick, the entire room went mute as if someone had clicked a button on a TV.
He was sopping wet and curled into a corner. He was in a cell similar to theirs but smaller and was struggling to contain his trembles against the cold. He was shirtless and only had a pair of wet tight sweat pants on. Dick looked like he was bulking up again despite the obvious stress and trauma he was suffering through, and this made Bruce worry that they were pumping Dick full of steroids and muscle enhancers. Dick's back and shoulder muscles popped and strained as he shivered horribly every few seconds. His legs were curled up to his chest with his head resting on his knees. His hair was growing out again and looked long and shaggy against his neck.
"If you keep waterboarding him, you're going to accidentally instill a fear of drowning in him," Slade reprimanded Cobb.
Bruce looked over to Slade and identified overwhelming fury, wavering just below the surface.
Cobb dismissed him, "The boy is fine. He needs to increase his durability and resistance in every way possible"
"This isn't resistance training, this is torture!" Tim exclaimed. His eyes were wide and glued to the monitor.
Cobb sneered, "To mortals and weak men it would be. This is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Our Gray Son can take so much more. He has no limits"
"Looks pretty limiting to me" Jason muttered as he glared. His green eyes were taking on a bright Veridian glaze.
"I'm going to raze this place" Bruce promised, "I am going to destroy you and the Court of Owls and make you wish you'd never touched a hair on my son's head, much less looked at him or his mother"
Cobb glared at Bruce's threat, "Do not threaten me, Bruce Wayne"
Bruce couldn't contain himself. The heat in his chest and pain behind his eyes as his son sat alone and hurt in a cell on that monitor taunted him and his failures, "You are nothing but an attempt at strength. Immortality won't get you anything except more chances to fail. And you will always fail. Dick won't be yours. The Court won't rule Gotham. You. Will. Not. Break. My. Family."
Cobb's expression morphed into rage at the insults. He clenched his hands and looked like he was going to move or take a step forward. He froze and caught himself, taking a deep breath. He ran a hand through his beard and studied Bruce, "I understand you are upset, most things have been given to you in life. You are lucky I am not going to hold Richard accountable for your words. I am going to leave this here with you and visit again tomorrow. Let's hope you are more amicable after some quality time with Richard"
With that, Cobb swiftly exited and left the hallway; leaving one attendant by the monitor.
Bruce did his best not to look at the monitor but his determination wavered and he couldn't stop his eyes from pulling up and to the left eventually. Even if he wanted to avoid the agonizing guilt that landed his son here, even if his state of being pained Bruce's soul; he was desperate to see his son. It felt like he was back in the mentality that he existed in 5-6 years ago. Where his oldest son was dead and it was his fault. He almost felt like he was just looking at an old picture of Dick on those days, where merely remembering him became too much.
A few times Bruce was convinced it was a picture, but then Dick would shift slightly, or sniff. For the most part he was as still as a statue. His bare back was curved and this forced his muscles to flex slightly. Bruce wasn't sure if Dick had dried or become numb to the cold of his cell. He came back to himself slightly and looked at his other sons. Jason was watching the screen and grinding his teeth. Tim's brow was permanently pulled inward, and Damian looked ready to bawl. Damian felt his father's eyes on his and looked to Bruce. His dark green eyes were glistening and Bruce's emotional exhaustion and rage started to wage a war inside of him again.
"Richard…" Damian whispered. His tone sounded broken. His sons should never sound like that. His words fell off like he wasn't sure what to say.
"Don't watch the screen Damian" Bruce said. His pain came through before he could reel himself in which forced Jason and Tim to shoot Bruce scathing looks.
"Fuck off," Jason said. Tim glared at Bruce but kept quiet.
"We'll get him, Damian. Don't let this get to you. It might really suck but Dick has faced worse than this" Tim placated. No one pointed out that Tim didn't mention the dirt, smeared blood, and his state of undress. Damian nodded but that only caused the welling tears to finally fall down his dirty cheeks.
"We will" Bruce reaffirmed for his sons. "You know that Dick can take much much worse. They are trying to break us down and know that this will hurt us. Don't let them get to you. Dick will never give in to them"
Jason's eyes fell to the floor and Bruce felt his gut clench. He knew Jason was remembering how they found Dick. How for the first few months after they found Dick, they assumed Dick had been broken by the Court. How Dick couldn't even ascertain the difference between himself and who he had been forcefully conditioned as. No one said anything for a while. Damian, Jason, and Bruce watched the monitor screen while Tim counted the cracks and discolored spots on their cell floor.
Movement caught his eye and Bruce looked up to see Dick shaking his head. Droplets flew from the longer strands of his damp dark hair and his hands came up to grab his hair. He hunched over even more but that didn't seem to help him so he shot to his feet and started pacing. Bruce focused on Dick's face and saw that his eyes were a canary gold between blinks. He paced for a while before he suddenly let out a yell and Bruce almost jumped. Their cells had been so quiet and Dick had been voiceless he assumed the footage had no audio. Dick's face scrunched and Bruce had difficulty determining if it was in pain or anger. He stopped and leaned forward against a particular wall, bracing his forearms against the cell wall and letting his head hang forward.
He was muttering something under his breath and Bruce had trouble reading his lips from the CCTV footage angle. Eventually, he started repeating it louder and louder and Bruce's insides froze as he listened and hoped he was wrong.
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son!"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son!"
"Gray Son!"
"Gray Son!"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son"
"Gray Son?"
Dick was repeating the word to a rhythmic pattern and Bruce wondered if it was supposed to be a song. Before Dick was diagnosed with ADHD, he'd often find it quirky and strange that Dick would break out in song or tap out a whole melodic pattern with his fingers without even realizing it. The doctors said it was a quirk for now but for more traumatized adults, it was viewed as a coping mechanism or disorder. It wasn't until Leslie finally had a full examination and sit down with Dick that she was able to inform Bruce that Dick was ADHD and OCD, most likely from childhood trauma paired with his energetic upbringing and lifestyle.
All his sons were staring at the screen now with concern marring their features.
"We need to get him out," Jason said aloud.
Bruce nodded and bowed his head, rubbing away the headache and worry that was filling his head and heart. He had to keep a clear mind to think properly.
He looked to Slade and realized that in the past couple of hours that the monitor had been left before them, Slade Wilson hadn't looked away once.