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Dick groans at the pain in his skull, eyes squeezing shut against the bright light that surrounds him. His head is fucking killing him, making bile rise in his throat, sour and nauseating. Fuck, did someone tale a bat to his skull? Because he’s had that happen before, and the pain right now really isn’t all that fucking different.
He shifts, his limbs heavy and sluggish, and finds that he can’t move more than a couple inches. His hands are bound by something in the small of his back, his ankles stuck together as well, and there’s something pressing over his face, trapping his jaw shut and making Dick groan again.
Great, just great. He’s been captured, apparently, and he can’t even remember what the fuck he was doing before waking up here. Was it on patrol? As a civilian? Dammit, because he doesn’t have enough on his plate right now—
“It’s time to wake up, Nightwing,” a deep voice says, a deep voice that Dick knows, that sends an uneasy chill sliding down his spine. It makes him force his eyes open, braving the painful light in order to regain some control, if that control is only the ability to see.
He’s in his Nightwing suit, sans gloves and boots. He’s lying on his side on concrete, and as his vision blurs he can make out the bleary form of a pair of boots standing in front of him.
Something hard but not sharp presses at Dick’s chest, and Dick doesn’t have the strength to fight it, falling limply onto his back. His head rolls, vision swimming as the world shifts around him. Nausea bursts again, and he barely swallows it back, not eager to test whatever is over his mouth against vomit. He has no interest in swallowing any of that, thank you very much.
Doing his best to breathe through it, Dick’s vision eventually clears enough to make out the man standing above him.
He wishes this wasn’t such a familiar sight, even if the last time it happened he was sixteen instead of twenty-two. Eddie has barely changed an inch—same long black hair, thick muscles, tan skin. Hell, he’s even wearing a white tank top like he used to all the time, and there’s a bo staff in his hand like he’s fresh off training.
God this is familiar. Too familiar. He had to hold back some of his skill when he was learning under Eddie—unwilling to give away the Robin secret, despite how much he looked up to the man—which meant a lot of the time ending up on the ground, losing against Eddie’s fighting prowess and metahuman strength.
It...hurts a little, to be here again. It hurts to have another piece of evidence that Eddie hasn’t changed, that he and Liu played Dick for a fool once more despite what he learned last time.
Maybe it was naïve of Dick, to hope he never saw Eddie again. After everything that happened with Vigilante...Dick was pathetic enough to hope that the other man would handle the problem from there. He had a vendetta, and made it clear that Dick’s instincts when it came to Liu and Eddie couldn’t be trusted.
He was right, of course he was right. It didn’t stop Dick from feeling absolutely horrible about it, but he was right. So maybe it was just better if Vigilante handled the problem. And since Dick didn’t see any of the three of them again, he just assumed...
Yeah, naïve of him. But fuck had he hoped.
“Hello, Nightwing,” Eddie greets, and Dick is soothed to at least realize Eddie still doesn’t know who he is. To Eddie, this isn’t personal, not the way it is for Dick. Not the way it would be if Eddie knew.
Dick wiggles his jaw from side to side, testing, and feels smooth leather restrict the movement. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose when he realizes it’s a muzzle, and glares up at Eddie with all the rage he can muster. He fucking muzzled him.
Eddie’s answering smile is placid and confident, like the rage of a highly skilled vigilante is nothing. Considering the way he currently has Dick trapped, he’s not really wrong.
“Don’t worry,” Eddie says, tapping Dick’s shoulder with the end of the bo staff before twirling it idly. “My issue isn’t with you. You’re simply...bait.”
A sick, humiliated feeling thickens in Dick’s chest. This is always the way with Eddie. As Dick Grayson, he was only useful to get to Bruce. And as Nightwing...
“The Vigilante will come for you,” Eddie continues, and Dick blinks in surprise, because what? “He has been a nuisance, and might be more of a killer than you are, but even he cares what happens to his ally.”
Oh, great. So Dick’s safety is contingent upon incorrect information and the whims of a madman. Brilliant.
Maybe some of his disbelief and contempt shine through in his gaze, because Eddie shifts the bo staff, pressing the end of it on the underside of Dick’s chin and forcing his head back, neck arching. Spots dance across Dick’s vision as the world shifts again.
“Don’t worry,” Eddie says. “As long as you behave, you are likely to get out of this alive.”