Chapter Text
Bring Damian home. That’s all Tim had to do. Bring the demon spawn to Wayne Manor and then he was free. It would have been a simple enough task, if Damian weren’t such a brat.
The kid insisted on fighting him every step of the way. They argued for ten minutes over who would drive, which was an argument that still made no sense to Tim. ’You’re ten,’ he had said. Somehow, Damian hadn’t seen his point.
Now the kid was whining about having to walk four blocks to Tim’s car. “You couldn’t have parked any closer, Drake?," he ranted as he pointed out every empty spot they passed, "You are incompetent in even the most menial task of chauffeur."
Tim took a deep breath and let it out in a short huff. Two more blocks to walk and an hour of driving was all he had left. That's it. He could make it.
“The garage was full due to the charity function,” he said through clenched teeth, “This was as close as I could get.”
“Well then, perhaps you should not have been late.”
“Shut up, Demon,” Tim snapped. One more block. One hour of driving. He could make it.
“Yeah, kid, shut up,” a voice from behind them said. The back of Tim’s neck tingled as he whirled around. Tim looked around quickly as a group of five men approached them from a side alley and encircled them.
Tim stepped forward, pulling Damian into his side. He could feel Damian’s eyes staring daggers at him for the patronizing act, but right now they were Tim and Damian. Not Robins, and it was expected of the older sibling to protect the younger one.
And, okay, maybe he didn’t want to see the kid get hurt, either.
His eyes darted around. The men were each holding onto guns hidden in their jackets.
They didn’t look like the typical muggers. Each man too clean and well dressed. What thug went around robbing people in business suits? In fact, they looked like they had just come from the function at Wayne Tower. The obvious leader, the one who told Damian to shut up, smirked at Tim.
“Well, if it ain’t the Wayne boys.”
Tim pulled Damian closer when he heard him growl. Someone needed to teach the brat when to shut up.
“Look, you can have my wallet, watch, bag, whatever. Just leave us alone,” Tim said, allowing a bit of fear to leak into his voice. He hated being trapped as Timothy Drake-Wayne in these sorts of situations.
“I don’t want your crap, kid, you are far more valuable to me,” the thug sneered.
A pit formed in Tim’s stomach. So, they were being kidnapped. Great.
“I’ll have you know there has never been a single successful kidnapping on any of us. You’re wasting your time,” Damian spat.
Tim elbowed him to get him to shut up. His attitude wouldn’t help. These thugs weren’t going to listen to a ten-year-old tell them off and suddenly see the light and change their ways. All Damian was doing was ensuring a good beating between now and when Batman rescued them. As amusing as it would be to see the brat get what’s coming to him, it was kind of his job right now to make sure the kid arrived home alive.
“I don’t want your daddy’s money,” the man paused and grinned, “I want him to suffer.”
The pit in his stomach morphed into nausea as he felt Damian stiffen from where he was pressed into Tim’s side. This was not good. They were probably going to have to fight their way out of this and possibly blow their secret identities.
Bruce was going to kill them.
“People like Wayne are what’s wrong with this world. He claims he loves Gotham, he’s from Gotham. Gotham, Gotham, Gotham, but he has never suffered Gotham the way the rest of us have. Gotham is a curse. She takes everything away from her people, forces them to live in poverty, in a life of crime.”
Damian slowly took Tim’s arm and wrapped his hands around Tim’s. It was a move that made him look like a scared little ten-year-old seeking comfort from an older brother, but Tim could feel him slowly reach up and press the panic button on Tim’s watch. Now Bruce knew. Bruce knew they were in trouble and would send help. All they had to do was stall for time.
Tim squeezed Damian’s hand in acknowledgement, then said, “What do you mean? Bruce’s parents were killed when he was a child right in front of him.”
The thug scoffed, “Oh please. Like he actually cared. Most children who lose parents become poor orphans tossed into state custody. Brucie became one of the wealthiest children on the planet with a butler as his guardian. That was not suffering. For all I know he arranged for his parents’ deaths. It’s not like rich folks don’t kill their parents for the inheritance.”
Hot anger was all Tim felt for a second. Bruce still suffered from the trauma inflicted by his parents’ murder. It affected everything he did in life. Then on top of all that, he had lost Jason. Jason who was murdered by the Joker, a name synonymous with Gotham. Bruce had suffered as much as anyone, and more than most, at the hands of Gotham City, and yet he still loved the city and dedicated his life to saving it.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had to keep the guy talking. Switching to anger now would just speed up whatever plan the guy had, and right now they needed time for Batman to get there.
“I can see you disagree. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re a spoiled brat, just like your father.”
Damian let go of Tim and stomped forward a few feet. “How dare you speak of my father this way,” he spat, clearly close to attacking the man with one of the dozens of knives he was sure to have on him at the moment.
Tim grabbed Damian’s shirt and pulled him backwards, just as the brat was about to take another step forward. He wrapped his arms around him protectively and hissed, “stop,” into Damian’s ear. Surely Bruce was only a minute away. He had been in Wayne Tower, just a couple blocks down the road. How long could it take for him to switch into the cowl and get there?
The thug pulled a small box-like device from his pocket and started pressing buttons on it. “This has been entertaining, but we’re running short on time. I have no doubt you’ve called Batman already,” he said with a smirk.
Tim paled. Of course he knew the Wayne’s had some sort of connection to Batman. They were out of time. If he gave him a boost, Damian could flip over the group and handle a couple of the men from behind. Hopefully the thugs weren’t as trained and quick as he and Damian were. Tim could then confront the other men and the leader. If nothing else, at least Damian could get a chance to run. Bruce would never recover if Damian died.
“Relax,” the thug said calmly, “I’m not going to kill you. That would be too merciful. Instead, you two are going to learn what it’s like to have nothing, and good ol’ Brucie will still suffer the loss of his two youngest sons.”
The man pointed the device at them, causing Tim to jump into action. He grabbed Damian and held his hands down as a springboard for him to take.
Damian understood in an instant, but before he could flip up and out of the circle, a bright blue light shot out from the device and engulfed them.
Blue turned to bright white and blinded Tim. All he could see was white.
The sounds of the city ceased and for a second and he heard a level of silence he had never experienced before.
Then, all at once, the sounds of civilization came rushing back like a river down a hill, overwhelming him.
Birds chirping. A gentle breeze. The clinking of a flag on a pole. A car with a squealing tire passing by.
His back hit the ground in a harsh thud and the white enveloping him turned back to blue.
Bright, vibrant blue. And some white. Puffy white. Clouds?
He blinked in confusion. He was staring up at the sky. But… it had been night.
Tim sat up and looked around. He was not in Gotham. It was… a residential area, almost like a suburb. But the suburb of a different town, a happier town.
Three feet to his left was Damian, unconscious.