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Bruce only knew about it because he was at the right place at the right time, on his way to deliver a few unwanted criminals that were causing unnecessary havoc that night to the GCPD when he overheard a group of the Penguins goons guarding the front of the Iceberg Lounge talking amongst themselves, the microphone in the Batmobile picked it up. “The Batman had better show up. I’m not standing outside in the cold all night for nothing.”
“Of course he’ll come,” another man scoffed. “Unless he doesn’t care about our little plaything in the basement.”
“Basement? What have we got in the basement?”
“Use your brains man! The little birdy being beaten black and blue!”
“Oh right!” A chuckle. “We got Nightwing.”
Batman put his foot on the breaks so hard that the men in his backseat began to complain about being thrown around, but Bruce didn’t mind them. A few quick button pushes on his gauntlet and Alfred’s face appeared on the windscreen of the car. “Sir, is everything alright?”
“Alfred, have I received any communication or transmissions from outside sources that aren’t a member of our squad?” He asked voice stained and clipped. Alfred must have picked up on it because he too sucked in a worried breath.
“I’m not sure sir. Give me a moment, I’ll check.” The sound of rapid typing could be heard through the com. “Yes, you’ve received one form a group of Two-Face’s men, one from Oracle regarding information she claims as unimportant, and one from… the Penguin?”
“Put it on,” Bruce said through gritted teeth and waited impatiently for the transition to appear on the screen. When it finally began to play, Bruce was met with the face of the Penguin and he growled low in his chest.
The video began with the rush of static. “’ello there Batsy,” the Penguin pushed the monocle further up his nose, his face too close to the camera. “I’m sick and tired off all this waiting you’ve put me through so I thought that it was about time for me to… expedite the situation.” He waved his hand to something off screen and Bruce listened to muffled grunting and arguing before the familiar face of Nightwing was shoved into view, his tangled mess of black hair darkened even further by his own blood, his face beaten the same shades of his uniform, his domino mask still thankfully covering his face and blood coating his normally white teeth where his lips were pulled back to smirk at the camera. “I’ve got this one ‘ere, and as you know, I ain’t too fond of dealing with your side-kicks. So we’re gonna keep him until you decide to show your ugly mug, and whatever happens to him between that time is entirely your fault.”
“Don’t sweat it, B,” Dick grinned cockily at the camera and Bruce felt something flutter in his chest- even in such circumstances, he couldn’t even bring himself to shut up for one second. “I’ll be fine. These guys don’t worry me. I’m sure I can keep myself alive until you show up.”
Penguin hit Dick in the back of his head with his diamond handled cane and he went reeling towards the camera with a spray of blood that Penguin didn’t even bother to wipe off the lens. He pointed the end of his new cane at the camera- the tip was sharp and glittering in the overhead lights. “This one talks too much, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep him alive until you get ‘ere. You’ve got two hours Batman! Two hours to meet me at the Lounge or this blabbermouth says his last words.”
Bruce was speeding thought Gotham before the transmission even finished and the Penguin's face was replaced with Alfred’s concerned one as the image changed. “Alfred, how long ago was this sent?”
“An hour and 45 minutes ago,” Alfred replied, voice tight and worried. “You’ve got 15 minutes to get there before the Penguin does some horrible things to poor Master Richard.”
Don’t remind me, Bruce thought but didn’t say. Instead, he answered. “I’m not going to get there in time. I’ve got two criminals in the backseat of the Batmobile and I’m almost to GCPD. I won’t get there and back in 15 minutes. Who’s on deck tonight?”
“I believe it’s Red Robin, Blue Bird and Blackbat. I’ll ask them to rendezvous at your location sir. If you’d like, I could attempt to get into contact with Red Hood? He won’t be pleased that you’ve called for him but once he hears about the danger his brother is in I have no doubt in my mind that he would come to aid you.”
“You do that Alfred. I’ll call Red Robin” Alfred nodded and without another word, his face disappeared and was replaced with Tim’s, a smile on his lips and. He didn’t even get a chance to reply before Bruce was talking, hurried and urgent and with no room for discussion. “I need you to get to the Iceberg Lounge and apprehend the Penguin. Bluebird and Blackbat are on patrol- collect them and make your way there together.”
Tim frowned. “You know I’m not normally one to question your judgement, but the Penguin’s been quiet tonight. What are we breaking into his place for?”
“He’s using Nightwing as a hostage and I won’t get there in time,” Bruce watched Tim become immediately alert. “I have to drop my passengers off with Cash and Gordon at GCPD and I’m not going to make it back in 10 minutes. Penny-1 is contacting the Outlaws for backup, see how much you can deal with before we get there.”
Suddenly serious, Tim nodded and stood from his crouch on the rooftop he was perched on. “Will do Batman. I’ll let the others know. We won’t let you down,” his voice lowered to something close to a whisper. “We’ll get him back, B. He’ll be fine.” And then the transmission was ended and Bruce was left alone with nothing but a blank screen and the dark, winding roads of dirty, night-time Gotham.
And the two thugs in his backseat who chuckled deeply in his plight. “Looks like the big-bad-bat is about to lose a birdy.”
Bruce didn’t waste his energy on an answer.
When Bruce finally, eventually, arrived at the Iceberg Lounge and made his way into the complex through a shattered skylight on the roof, he was met with Cassandra picking off a few of the remaining guards and thugs who didn’t know when to quit and Tim standing over Penguin as he crawled defenceless across the ground. Every time he got too far or tried to stand up, Harper would zap him and he would still. “You really think you scare me, birdy?” Penguin spat at Tim who approached him lazily. “Out of all four of you Robins, you’ve always been the weakest. The least intimidatin’. You really think you’re going to get anything out of me?”
“Not me,” Tim laughed. “I’m just stalling. We were waiting for him,” and then he pointed behind him at Bruce who glided towards them on swift feet and lifted the floundering Penguin up by the collar and shoved him up against the nearest wall, forcing the Penguin to squeak in fear and reach his fat meaty fingers up to grip at Bruce’s hands around his neck. “Take it away, Batman.”
“What have you done with him?” Bruce growled in the Penguins face voice low and deep and filled with more rage than he thought he could muster after such a long night and Oswald shrunk back away from him as far as he was able into the wall. “Where is he, Cobblepot?”
It took every inch of Bruce’s hard-worn self-restraint to keep himself from breaking every bone in the Penguin’s body and that didn't help when he chuckled in that flighty way of his. “You’re too late, Bat. ‘es gone. I sold ‘im off.”
“What?” Harper demanded, heated and dismayed. Her hands were bunched up at her sides. “Your message said that we had two hours and the time isn’t up yet!”
“Yeah, ‘ell, I got bored.” Oswald bore his teeth at her in a wicked grin. “Sue me.”
His words were cut off when Bruce slammed his head up against the wall and he had to stop speaking or bite off his tongue. “Who did you sell him too?” Penguin didn’t speak so Bruce gripped his collar tighter and lifted him higher off the floor. “Tell me!”
Fear was beginning to set in for Oswald and he gulped thickly. “I-I don’t know! They paid well though. I tend not to ask questions when people pay that kind of money. All I know is that he was calling from one of the abandoned warehouses at the docks, but that’s all, I swear!’
Growling, Bruce slammed his head into Oswald’s face and the man crumpled in his grasp, nose crushed in and blood pouring down his face. Bruce dropped him carelessly onto the ground where he collapsed into a mute pile and turned to face his team, patiently awaiting orders. “Red Robin, take Cobblepot to GCPD and alert Gordon to the goons here- tell him to send a squad to collect the rest. Blackbat, Bluebird, help me scout all the docks around Gotham and let me know if you find anything. If you come across the Outlaws or any of the rest of our team, let them know the situation and spread out.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Tim asked, putting a hand on Bruce’s arm before he could walk away. His voice sounded calm but that was overlayed by the thick and barely concealed worry and Bruce knew that Tim was just as afraid and concerned as he was.
For a moment Bruce considered changing his assignment but after a pause, he shook his head. “No, you’re the only one I trust to take care of Cobblepot. Deal with him quickly and then join us when you’re done.” There was a brief moment of reluctance from Tim before he steeled himself and nodded, clasping Bruce’s hand before he scooped up the mildly moaning Penguin and dragged him away. “Blackbat, could you go scan the perimeter? Meet up with as many members of the family as you can on the way and alert them all the situation. If you run into Red Hood, get him to come with you regardless of which way you go.” Cassandra nodded once, her face completely hidden behind her mask, and disappeared into the shadows.
When Bruce turned to survey the rest of the Lounge, he caught sight of Harper, holding Dick’s escrima sticks in her hands and looking down with a downcast expression of distress. He walked up to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to come. You’ve done more than enough. You can go home and check up on Cullen if you want- we have this handled.”
Harper tightened her grip on the weapons, weak electricity sparking off of them faintly. “No. Nightwing is my family too now, just as much as Cullen is. I’m going to help you find him.”
Nodding, Bruce walked towards the Batmobile parked outside the Iceberg lounge and turned back to Harper, who was still gripping Dick’s weapons as if her life depended on it. “In that case- need a lift?” Determined, Harper strolled towards the Batmobile and Bruce helped her into the seat before jumping into the driver’s seat and gunning the ignition.
He drove towards the docks like the devil was chasing him.
The last person Bruce had expected to see when he was jumping across the rooftops of the many deserted boatsheds and warehouses that populated the docks with the rest of his team fanning out around him was Jason, looking at something through the visor on his helmet and making some very angry sounds beneath his mask. “Red Hood,” Bruce said as he landed on the same roof and Jason immediately tensed. “I wasn’t expecting you to come.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to come at all,” Jason’s voice was clipped and he was more interested with the joints on his glove than looking Bruce in the face. “I was going to let Alfred know that you could shove it where the sun don’t shine but then he told me that Dick was missing, and no way in hell am I letting anything happen to Dick if I get a say in it.”
“A temporary alliance,” Bruce said. “I can work with that. What have you found so far?”
Jason scoffed and walked over towards the edge of the roof and Bruce wordlessly followed. “I haven’t been around Gotham much so I don’t know how your wack-bags operate anymore, but even for me, crucifying faceless dead bodies and hanging them naked on a wall is totally bazaar.”
Frowning, Bruce glanced over the wall at what Jason was describing and indeed saw a row of crucified bodies, skin marred and bloodied faces covered in once-white bandages. “I know Hush has done something like this before, but he never hung them up on display. Have we got any ID on the victims yet?”
“Robin and Oracle are sorting that out now but it’s a slow process,” Jason shrugged. “Which might be a good thing. Babs wanted Damian to do it in case we found Dick in a bad condition, so I think she might be taking her sweet time on purpose.” He pointed in the direction of the row of bodies and where they tapered off into the darkness. “If you want my opinion, I think we should follow the trail of breadcrumbs. Hopefully, it’ll lead us right to Dickybird.”
There was something nagging on the back of Bruce’s mind, something he felt like he ought to know. Something he was missing. “This doesn’t sit right to me…”
“Oh, you mean a trail of dead bodies with their faces removed is something you’re normally A-OK with?” Jason quipped before leaping off the roof and sprinting into the darkness. Sighing, Bruce had no choice but to follow him and heard the metaphorical wings of the rest of his team behind him.
Stephanie had seen it first, crawling up a fire escape and pressing her face to a dirty window to see inside the dimly lit interior of one of the most dilapidated warehouses illuminated by a single light in the centre of the room, the back of a rotund man facing the window, a body on a table, blood on the floor. She had almost screamed when she saw it, but instead covered her mouth and shut her eyes and fell back as silently as she could against the metal railing. Curious and afraid, Bruce joined her on the fire escape with Tim close behind to couch with a sobbing Stephanie, and saw the discarded chest piece of Nightwing’s armour thrown unwanted and uncared for on the ground, dented and scratched.
“We need to go in,” Bruce said glumly but with his voice filled with more malice that he thought he was capable of. “Right now.”
“You want any tactics or just go straight in, guns blazing?” Jason mocked with an air of importance and like he had better places he’d rather be, but by the way he gripped his gun like it might snap into tiny pieces in his grasp, Bruce knew he was just as worried as the rest of them. “Or should we, you know, do what we normally do? Spread out and drop in from above.”
“You all know what you need to do,” Bruce was hardly listening- too busy mentally hitting himself for not following the loud trail of opera music straight to the warehouse as soon as he’d gotten to the docks and saved Dick some time. “You’re old and trained enough now to take initiative and not wait for my every order.”
Tim placed a light hand on his shoulder, Stephanie now on her feet and clutching her staff. “You’re still Batman, and we still follow your lead.” Silently, Tim waved his fingers about and one by one the rest of the family wordlessly disappeared into the darkness, leaving only Tim and Bruce alone on the fire escape. Tim looked like he was about to say something heartfelt and meaningful, but thought better of it, and sighed. “We’ll wait for your signal.” And then he was gone, grappling onto the roof and preparing with the others.
For a few, seemingly short moments, Bruce dimly listened to the others bicker over their coms from where they were stationed around the warehouse, but he was much more focused on the still and bandaged-clad form of his first Robin, his son, lying motionless under the knife of a madman, the metal glinting in the overhead lights. He had barely even acknowledged the curious conversation rattling in his ears before he was smashing through the dirty window and rolling across the floor of the warehouse in a spray of shards that glittered like diamonds, his team members scrambling to follow.
As soon as he sprung to his feet, Bruce glared at the man who was now looking around in shock and confusion as seemingly every vigilantly in Gotham burst through the windows and brought his fist to his belt. “Enough!” Bruce announced evenly but there was more rage than he was expecting, and the man jumped around to face him. “Let him go. Right now.”
The snorting was confusing and so was the cracked, blood speckled plastic pig mask, and for a moment Bruce wasn’t sure what he was looking at until Cassandra, standing beside him, spoke for the first time that night. “Pyg,” She breathed and looked over at Bruce who felt his lungs in his throat.
Before Bruce could react, Professor Pyg spun around and lifted the bloodied and bandaged body off the metal table and held it limply in front of him like a shield. The remains of the Nightwing uniform were a stark contrast to the white of Pyg’s scrubs and it glinted in the light. Pyg seemed to be holding him as if Dick’s legs couldn’t support his weight, his chin resting on his chest and his head tossed about every time Pyg waved him around. “No, no, you can’t hurt me. I was only fixing him. Making him perfect and pretty.”
“What did you do?” Bruce growled, teeth grit. Everything inside him was screaming at him to rush forward and rip Dick from his grasp and disappear, but he couldn’t do that yet. Pyg had a tray filled with knives of different shapes and sizes and he could easily grab them before Bruce reached him.
“I made him perfect,” Pyg snorted. “I tried my best, but he’s not pretty yet. I can still fix him if you want him prettier.” He rubbed his mask against the back of Dick’s head. “I couldn’t fix his eyes though, no, his silly mask wouldn’t come off, so I left those till last.”
Behind him, Harper smashed her hands together and her gauntlets ignited in stunning electricity that crackled around her arms and Pyg turned to her with a squeak. “Let him go. You better not have hurt him or I swear to God…”
“Hurt?” Pyg sounded offended and he scoffed as he waved a butcher knife around with one hand and held Dick to his chest with the other. “No, Pyg doesn’t hurt. He helps. He heals. He makes people perfect! Pyg fixes that which is broken! And this one-” He tugged Dick closer to him and he moaned softly under his breath “- is very broken indeed. Broken and ruined on the outside and the inside, but Pyg can only fix the outside. Pyg can make him wonderful.”
“I’m sick of this,” Jason announced from Batman’s left and raised his gun at Pyg. “Let him go or I’m going to blow your brains out all over the wall.”
Snorting, Pyg backed up against the table and jerked Dick in front of him, who groaned at the sudden movement and slowly blinked his eyes open. He mumbled something unintelligible and Pyg stroked a hand down his cheek. “Don’t worry my darling, Pyg will fix you soon.”
“Ow,” Dick murmured, voice thick and heavy. “Why does it feel like I got run over by a truck?”
“Hush, my pretty,” Pyg whispered into his hair. “Pyg will finish make you pretty soon, make you happy, make your life worth living.”
Stephanie growled from beside Tim and twirled her staff around in her hands. “Shut up, you barnyard animal. You were just going to make him into another one of your Dollotron’s and break him until he was just a plaything.”
Pyg made a wet gasping sound and shook his head, looking over his shoulder no look at her. “No, no! Not a Dollotron! Pyg was going to give him back, but he was so broken, I needed to fix him. Make him feel no pain! Make him happy to be alive!”
Dick, blinking blearily and swaying on his feet, caught sight of the black blur that could only be one person, and smiled at him, though he wasn’t sure that translated from under the bandages. “Oh, hey B. Don’t worry about me, I’m alright.”
“Are you hurt?” Bruce asked, his voice strained but full of relief.
Shrugging, Dick tried to look around the room at the rest of the team, who all sent him identical looks of relief. “I have no idea. I only just woke up like, 30 seconds ago. I don’t even know where the hell I am but it’s nice to know that the whole family came together to save my ass.”
Pyg waved Dick about some more and he made a weak sound of protest. “You can’t have him yet! Pyg isn’t finished fixing him! He isn’t perfect yet! He’s still broken and rotten inside out! Ruined! Pyg must fix him!” Another grotesque ugly snort. “Let Pyg fix him!”
“You know, Lazlo, I honestly thought I was pretty before all the bandages,” Dick quipped and he heard the collective groan from around the room and couldn’t help but grin. He looked at Jason, holding the gun steady. “Well? Are you going to take care of this or not?”
“I don’t have a clear shot,” Jason replied, trying to aim at a Pyg where Dick wasn’t, which was hard with him being waved about and swaying. “I don’t want to shoot you.”
Dick sighed. “Just get on with it. I’m tired and need a nap. I’ll be fine.”
Reluctantly, Jason pulled the trigger while Pyg was mid-announcement and was cut off as the bullet sliced through the air and went through Dick’s shoulder and straight to Pyg, who feel back with a squeal of pain, releasing Dick who fell to the ground with a grunt, holding his bleeding shoulder with one hand and his face with the other, keeping himself upright using his elbow. Bruce sprinted towards Dick while the others fell onto Lazlo, and slung his arm over his shoulders, carrying most of his weight out the door. After a moment, Jason rushed up to join them and supported Dick’s weight on the other side, and together they carried him outside and laid him on the grass. “I think Lucius is going to need to make me another suit.” Dick joked, resting his head heavily against the wall.
Slowly, cautiously, Bruce couched down and began to gingerly remove the bandages that covered Dick’s face and dropped them onto the ground. His domino mask was still safely over his eyes and apart from a few cuts and bruises, he seemed to be fairly unharmed. As soon as Bruce saw that cocky smile on the corners of Dick’s lips and the twinkle in his eye once he had removed his mask, he breathed a sigh of relief and crushed his son to his chest. “I thought I’d lost you,” He murmured into his skin.
Surprised, Dick wrapped his arms weakly around Bruce and chuckled deep in his chest. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, old man.” He was silent for a moment. “Although, I really do feel like I’ve been stepped on by a very fat elephant, or like Superman threw me into a couple of brick walls. It might be from when the Penguin’s cronies beat me up or from whatever Pyg gave me to knock me out, but I think I need to nap for a couple of years.”
Behind them, Jason laughed as the others began emerging with Lazlo's unconscious and newly bloodied form behind them, but Bruce ignored them, too busy grabbing Dick’s chin between his hands and turning his head left and right. “We’ll have Alfred give you a full check-up when we get you back to the cave,” Bruce reassured. “You’re hardly in any condition to go leaping across rooftops. You’ll ride in the Batmobile. I’m not sure I could refuse Damian to ride with us.”
Frowning, Dick glanced around at the rest of the family not gathered around him and squinted in confusion. “Where is Dami?”
“Babs is keeping him distracted and occupied with the bodies.” Tim laughed, reaching down to pat Dick on the shoulder. Steph gave him a thumbs up and Harper looked like she was about to cry in relief. “Glad you’re alright, Dick.”
“That sounded like sarcasm but that might just be what happens when you add my name to the end of any heartfelt sentence- oof!” His quip was cut off when Cassandra, who couldn’t wait any longer, fell to her knees and crashed herself to Dick’s chest, sobbing into his shoulder and holding him as if he was about to disappear. No words were said but they didn’t need to be as Dick’s expression softened as he held his sister close to his chest. “I missed you too Cassie.”
Bruce watched as Dick’s eyelids began to flutter shut from exhaustion and the rest of the gathered family slowly went silent. Laughing softly, Bruce bent down and gently lifted his oldest son into his arms and cradled him to his chest as he rose and walked towards the Batmobile, the rest of his family close behind. “Come on,” he whispered into Dick’s hair, smelling of dirt and coated in his own drying blood, but Bruce didn’t care. He was still his son. “Let’s get you home.”