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Damian raced through the external grounds of the shopping mall. He scanned the perimeter for what felt like the hundredth time, trying, in vain, to find another way inside. The night was cold, the beginnings of a blizzard drifting into Gotham in the forms of fat snowflakes lazily dancing in the air as if their fall defied gravity. It was two weeks before Christmas and the parking lots were filled, the main entrance of the mall surrounded by police cars and ambulances that illuminated the darkness with blues and reds. Reporters, TV crews with bulky cameras, curious and horrified citizens with their smartphones all stood outside the large commercial edifice following the events with bated breaths. If the circumstances were any different, Damian would have perhaps be paying more attention to what they were saying, listening in to what the police and SWAT teams discussed over their radios. But in that moment, all that Damian could hear was his baby brother’s confident yet childish voice speaking to the Riddler.
“Ice. The answer is ‘ice.’”
“Correct!” He heard Nygma cry in delight. His own voice was boisterous, loud, annoying, and he was close enough that Damian and the his brothers could hear his amused chuckle through Richard’s comm. It made Damian’s stomach sink with dread.
Come on, Timothy… Find me an opening… Any opening!
“And for that, oh Boy Wonder, we get to release… hmmm… Let me see… Yes, five hostages! Who will they be?”
Damian pulled his grapple gun and went to the roofs yet again. His boots left impression on the thin dusting of snow that was beginning to stick. It brought to mind images of last Christmas, when Richard took Bruce by the hand during the season’s first snowfall and demanded they all play together outside. It was his first Christmas with the family, his first Christmas away from his parents. His little button nose had been as red then as it had been tonight, almost a year later, as he adorned the mantle of Robin, the Boy Wonder.
“The children,” Richard didn’t hesitate. Though Damian was not watching the live feed from the Riddler’s broadcast, he could easily imagine his youngest brother — his dearest baby brother, only nine years old and so small for his age — standing proudly in his uniform as the automatic guns Nygma had set up around the main atrium of the shopping mall pointed straight at him. “The youngest ones.”
Damian tried to visualize a mental map of building beneath his feet. Not far from his right was the opening Richard had used to slither his way inside. It was, as far they could tell, the only way any of them could get inside without risking the lives of all the hostages. Looking at it now, Damian cursed the blasted thing; it was still too small for anyone besides the little slim acrobat.
“Any progress, Nightingale?” He spoke into his comm as he watched the police hurry to the door to make sure the five hostages were released came out safely.
“I’m working on it, Batman,” Timothy said. Damian could hear the sound of his fingers flying through the keyboards. “But you know how Nygma works. He expects us to try to hack our way through security, to try to get control of his guns and other toys. He left metaphorical landmines all over the place. One wrong step and I could trigger a bomb or… I don’t know, something much worse.”
“What could be worse than a bomb?” Jason asked. The young thirteen year old was with Commissioner Gordon on the ground, monitoring the situation with them. There was an edge of impatience to his words that Damian could not fully fault him for.
“It’s the Riddler we’re talking about,” Timothy hissed. “Don’t ask questions like that. If he hears you, he’ll take it as a challenge.”
“Nightingale, focus!” Damian growled. His heart was hammering inside his chest with a helplessness he seldom felt when wearing the cowl.
“I’m trying!” Timothy said. “Listen, if I can get to the guns, then—”
But before Timothy could finish that sentence, Nygma was speaking again.
“Now, Boy Wonder,” Nygma voice had a melodious note to it that made Damian suck in his breath. “You know the agreement. One Riddle, one chance to answer. You get it wrong, I shoot some hostages. You get it right, they get go free, while you—!”
THUMP!
Crack!
“AGH!”
Damian frozen. He heard Timothy stop typing and Jason’s angry growl. Even knowing it was coming did not prepare him for what it would be like to hear his little Robin cry out and not be able to be there to protect him.
“You get punished. Just so I can still have my fun. It’s a win-win situation, don’t you agree?” Nygma chuckled. Damian’s hand curled into a fist. “Now, that was five hostages, so I think for this round you should get… Five bones broken. That seems fair, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, since they were children, they’ll be small ones.”
Damian stood on the roof. There was no way to get inside, no way to get to Richard. Not without putting even lives at risk by triggering one of Nygma’s numerous traps.
“Remember, Robin,” Nygma’s whisper was chilling as he spoke to Richard. “If you try to fight back, if I think you’re trying to resist me, I’ll kill all of those terrified dumb little citizens who are relying on you to be their hero.”
Damian heard the horrified gasp of the crowd before he did his brother’s scream. Another sickening crack resonated through the comms. Richard cried out, his voice — so young, usually so full of laughter whenever he raced down the stairs to greet Damian when he returned from work at Wayne Enterprises — breaking. It made something ugly coil inside of Damian, a darkness he had not felt since Timothy’s death at the hands of the clown slowly resurrecting.
Richard tried to catch his breath, but soon there was another crack.
The crowd in the parking lot gasped.
“Nightingale…!” Jason called.
“I’m working on it!”
“That’s two, which means we have three more to go,” Nygma said in that same casual tone. “I’ve noticed that you Bats tend to rely equally on both your right and left hands. Trained to be able to use both in case one is out of commission mid-mission, huh? Well, in that case, I say we need to even things out. With two fingers on the right hand broken, this means we have to break two on the left!”
Crack! Crack!
Richard held back a sob. The crowd watching the little Robin get tortured was not so strong.
“Oh, don’t worry, Robin. We have just one more bone left! Which on should it be…?”
For a moment, there was no noise coming from the other end of the comms. The silence stillness was almost as agonizing as hearing Richard’s cries.
Crack!
“UGH!”
Damian was frozen on the spot. Richard sounded worryingly breathless.
“Fucking bastard!” Tim snarled. The pit’s poison was clear in his voice. “When I get my hands on him…!”
“Ops!” Nygma said. “I think I might have broken two ribs there. Oh well. Ready for your next riddle, Boy Wonder?”
Damian did not hear Richard’s reply, but he must have given some sort of indication, for Nygma soon began speaking again.
“For the fate of the next five hostages—”
“One hundred and thirty-two,” Richard interrupted.
There was a pause. Nygma had clearly not expected Richard to recover his speech so quickly, much less for him to say those words.
“I beg your pardon?”
Damian did not like the slight note of interest in Riddler’s voice.
“There are… One hundred and thirty-two hostages who appear… to be under the age… of twenty-one,” there was something particular heartbreaking about hearing a voice that was so young and filled with pain, yet still brimming with courage and determination. “The next riddle will be to release all of them.”
For a beat, Nygma said nothing. Outside, the snowflake’s fall picked up in speed as frigid winds — the type that is only possible in the long and narrow corridors created by a city’s skyscrapers — began to blow.
“The riddle will be harder, if you decide to go with that,” Nygma said. “And my reward — your punishment — greater, too.”
Richard didn’t hesitate.
“One hundred and thirty-two.”
Nygma’s laugh carried genuine joy.
“Alright, then…! For the lives of one hundred and thirty-two hostages — children! Riddle me this!” a dramatic pause. “I’m strong as a rock, but a word can destroy me. What am I?”
This time, Richard did not answer right away.
Damian ran towards the back of the shopping mall, to the north end. He had already tried finding an entry point there, and though there were none that were viable, out of all facets of the large edifice, it was the easiest to breakthrough without being noticed right away. After over twenty years of dealing with Bats, Riddler knew their usual infiltration methods, he knew where to lay his traps and cameras, knew where they would look for alternative routes. Crashing through the glass roofs or breaking windows would certainly trigger the automated weapons that were currently trained on the hostages and on Richard. And if not, Damian was sure the buttons commanding it right in the Riddler’s cane. The water in the sprinkler system had been replaced by a deadly toxin, every elevator crashed on the main floor and every bit of electronic security under the madman’s command. Gotham’s shopping mall, during one of its busiest weekends in the year, was a fortress and Nygma was its king.
This was the reason why when Batman, Sparrow, and Robin arrived in the scene, they agreed with Gordon that it would be best to wait until Nightingale hacked into the system; there were hundreds upon hundreds of hostages at the Riddler’s mercy. Families with children, young teenagers who were meeting in groups to hang out on a nice Saturday evening, young adults working retail so they could afford rent, grandparents going through stores to find the perfect gifts for their grandchildren… All of them, nothing but inconsequential pieces to Nygma’s sick game of wit. Yet if they were not careful with how they approached the situation, with how they attempted to break through those heavy defenses, they could end up putting all those lives at stake.
Damian was not a patient Batman, but he understood that waiting for Nightingale to fully hack into the system while keeping the Riddler engaged was the best option available to them. Nygma, after all, was motivated neither by greed nor blood-lust; rather, it was a deadly combination of pride and narcissism that fueled his every scheme, and as long as he could still, somehow, gloat smugly about his intellectual superiority over them, there was a way to keep the hostages alive.
That had been the plan, at least, until they’d been in the roof surveying the area and Richard had spotted the little vent, big enough only for one as small as him.
“Tic toc, little Robin. I need an answer.”
Damian used his cape to glide to the ground. Infiltrating from above was not an option. Waiting was certainly becoming less and less of one as well, hacking the systems be damned.
Batman would move underground.
When Richard next spoke, he sounded breathless, in pain. It caused Damian to falter in his step. Two broken ribs. Richard had two broken ribs and he was struggling to breathe.
“Silence. The answer is ‘silence.’”
A beat.
“Correct!” Nygma cried in delight. “I knew there was a reason why you were my favorite of the Bat Brats,” a chuckle. “Well, just as promised, the one hundred and thirty-two hostages get to go free! Go along, now! Quickly, if you please. You have served your purpose.”
Damian called the Batmobile to his location. He could see his warm breath meet the night’s cold air. The sounds of Gotham at Christmas surrounded him, even as the city was gripped by the events happening in the shopping mall. Every second spent waiting for the vehicle to arrive was a second longer he was not protecting Richard.
When the car finally arrived and Damian entered, he heard the roar of the crowd standing outside the mall as the one hundred thirty-two young hostages were released.
“Nightingale,” he called.
“I’m working on it as fast as possible,” Timothy said. “Nygma encrypted—”
“Never mind that,” Damian said. “I’m heading to the nearest underground station with a connection line to the mall. I need you to figure out a path for me to follow and to take control of as many cameras as possible.”
“You don’t think Nygma expected that?” Timothy asked. “The mall’s elevators are all grounded. I can guarantee you that he probably has the tunnels packed with explosives, toxins, automated guns… Everything programmed to kill you on sight so that he can keep his focus on that sick performance he’s putting on!”
“I know that” Damian had never been as interested in cars as his father or Jason. He never cared much about driving the Batmobile or going fast. But in that moment, he didn’t hesitate to use every tool and trick at his disposal to speed through Gotham’s streets. “But what other option do we have?”
It felt wrong to drive away from the mall. As the distance between himself and Richard grew larger, Damian could feel himself grow more and more nauseous, his grip on the steering wheel tightening so that his hands wouldn’t tremble.
They couldn’t wait anymore. The hostages were safe now, Damian knew that. Even the ones not yet released. They had never mattered that much in the grand scheme of things — not for the Riddler, at least. But now Nygma’s interest had shifted, and so had the game. Richard had managed to save all those people, but in exchange he’d given up his well-being.
Perhaps it only proved that Damian did not deserve to inherit his father’s mantle that he did not think such a trade was worth it.
Richard was his baby brother. His Robin. His boy.
“Now, it’s time for the fun part again,” Nygma said. In his mind, Damian could practically see the man circling the young child, spinning his cane as he spoke, that smug smirk playing on his lips. “What should we do? At first, I thought we should keep on with breaking your bones, but now that strikes me as… Highly unoriginal, don’t you think? Besides, if we continued to break a bone for every hostage, you’d end up running out of them pretty quickly. Unless we broke them on two or three places, that is.”
Damian grit his teeth.
“NIGHTINGALE!”
“I’m working!” Timothy yelled back, his voice clearly tainted by the pit. The underground station was coming into sight, but it still felt far away. “If you didn’t want him in danger, why the hell did you allow him to go in by himself?”
Damian pumped the breaks. He got out of the car without looking back. He was sprinting the remainder of the way to underground station, pushing through the heavy snow that continued to fall.
The truth was that Damian hadn’t wanted to let him go. If he had his way, Richard would have stayed by his side, just where he belonged. If he had his way, Richard would not even be Robin, still only nine and still far too young to be going against the worst Gotham had to offer. But when they found the vent and discovered that it was a possible way into the building, Richard had left him with no choice.
“You have to let me go so I can help them!” he had cried. “Come on, Batman. Don’t you trust me?”
The words had sealed his baby brother’s fate. They had made Damian scowl, tugging at an old wound that though healed, had left a great scar on the man.
Everyone knew that regardless of Batman’s origins as a lone wolf, what he needed most was a partner to keep him from being consumed by Gotham’s rot — a rot that existed deep within him as well. Damian, however, was one of the few who also understood that what Batman’s partners needed most was to know that they had the Dark Knight’s trust.
Damian was only ten when he first took the skies by his father’s side. He was ten and he was talented, trained, and tenacious, ready to prove his worth. But he was also a cocky child who, though it took him years to be able to admit it to himself, was desperate for his father’s approval. Bruce himself had been young, inexperience with children, inexperienced with teamwork, and disapproving of Damian’s upbringing. They clashed more often than they got on, angry shouts and solemn silences, matching glares that were heavy with frustration and stubbornness, cold words cutting deeper than even the sharpest blades. Few were the nights when young Damian did not hide in his room after patrol, his hands curled into fists as he tried to control his breathing… As he tried not to hate himself as much as he believed his father hated him.
It would take two years before Damian felt like his father was not just demanding unquestionable loyalty. Two years before he started to feel like Bruce did, in fact, trust him as partner. But in those two years, that initial lack of trust him had made Damian question his own self-worth, made him wonder if he was deserving of being by his father’s side… If he was worthy of love at all. As a result, even after the trust to face Gotham’s darkness had been earned, it would be along time before their relationship as father-and-son could flourish; it would be years before Damian could recover from that perceived initial rejection. Even to this day, the now twenty-two year old man still felt a lump in his throat whenever he thought about all those times he watched Batman’s back as he walked away from him, leaving Damian behind as he charged into the night.
Damian never wanted Richard to feel the way he did. He never wanted to be the reason why Richard would feel so unloved or so unwlecome. He never wanted Richard to question Damian’s trust in his ability, to question his place in Damian’s life. Damian loved his father, yes, but the last thing he wished to do was emulate the man, the parent, he had been during those early years. That was not the relationship he wanted with Richard.
Bruce had shown he did not trust Damian. Damian had been determined to prove that he trusted Richard.
And for that, his little Robin was suffering.
“Oh, I know what we can do. Come closer, Robin,” Damian heard Nygma say through Richard’s comms. The boy was panting but he didn’t seem to hesitate in following the Riddler’s command. There were gasps from the hostages. Damian was descending the steps to the station, going past the police barrier without a glance to the officers who demanded to know what Batman was doing there. “Remember, if I think you’re fighting back, everyone here dies.”
Damian used his grapple gun to hook to the top of a stationed train. Christmas songs were blasting through the speakers, the poor acoustics in the empty platform made them as comforting as the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Damian got to the top of the trains, then ran along its length and jumped in front of it. He started to run through the tunnels, in the direction of the shopping mall. Light was replaced with darkness. It took three seconds for the lenses of the cowl to adjust.
He needed to get to Richard as soon as possible.
Jason sucked gasped, “We have to go in now! Riddler is—”
Timothy must have been watching the broadcast feed from the cave, “I’m going to fucking kill that bastard—”
Damian was about to demand them to fucking focus when a loud noise rang out.
BANG!
Damian could not breathe. His heart stopped, his mind was blank.
That was a gun shot.
That was a gun shot far too close to Richard.
Distantly, he heard Jason call out Robin’s name while Timothy seemed to have thrown something against the walls of the cave. But neither of those sounds truly registered in his mind; for half of a second, there was complete silence on the other end of Richard’s comms.
No. No. No no no no no no nonnonononononononono—
Richard… Richard… RICHARD!
Then, Richard screamed. His voice broke as he sobbed, as he struggled to breathe. It was the most awful, agonizing sound Damian had ever heard, one that would forever haunt his nightmares forever, but it was also as beautiful as a robin’s song in the beginning of spring. Sheer relief flooded his body.
His boy was still alive!
“I think one bullet should equal… Fourty-four hostages. Yes. That seems fair, don’t you think, Robin? That means we still have two more to go,” Nygma said. Richard held back sobs as he struggled to keep his breathing under control. “Contrary to what many might believe, getting shot in the upper arms and thighs can actually be quite dangerous. That’s where your brachial and femoral arteries are located, and if you hit one of those by accident, you’re as good as dead. Not very fun if we want to keep playing, is it?”
BANG!
Damian still couldn’t move. In that moment, it was as if nothing existed but Richard’s cries.
“I just hope you don’t have to use your hands and feet for anything too important.”
BANG!
Richard didn’t have the strength to scream this time. A strangled sob was all that escaped his lips.
“Robin…” Damian’s voice lacked the Batman’s usual growl. It lacked any of its usual strength, any of it’s confidence. “Richard… If you can hear me… I—”
I’m sorry.
This is my fault.
I shouldn’t have let you go.
I should have protected you.
I’m so sorry I failed you.
I love you.
“I’m coming for you,” Damian clenched his left fist. He took in a deep breath, straightened his back. Something inside of him was steeling with determination. If Richard was strong enough to withstand this, then Damian had to be a Batman worthy of Robin. “Just hang on tight, I’m coming for you.”
There was a silence on the other end.
“Nightingale,” Damian called. This time, even to his own ears, he sounded like Bruce. “Are you with me?”
He heard Timothy take his own deep breath,
“Yes,” he gritted between his teeth. “What do you need?”
“I’m in the tunnels heading to the underground station in the shopping mall. I need you to shift your focus from cracking whatever it was that Nygma did to the mall’s security system to being my eyes and ears as I approach the area. But I still need you to keep an eye on the situation inside,” a pause. “Can you do that?”
There was a silence as Timothy typed something into the Batcomputer.
“It doesn’t appear as if Nygma took over Gotham’s public transport system,” Timothy answered. “I have access to the cameras and can see you right now. I can guide you until about 500 meters from the station, then everything is under the Riddler’s command.”
“That will do. When you lose visual on me, return your attention to the hacking. See if you can deactivate the automatic weapons, and forget everything else. If we take those down, then we can get in and free the hostages. We’ll deal with the other traps if necessary.”
“Got it.”
“Sparrow?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to go to the roof and wait my signal. When I say it’s safe, when the guns are down, you let Gordon know they can come in, and then crash in from the top. Understood?”
“What about Robin?”
“We’ll save Robin.”
When Jason next spoke, he sounded as resolute as Damian.
“Understood.”
The cowl’s night vision lenses helped him navigate through the darkness and avoid obstacles, but Timothy keeping an eye ahead also helped him evade motion detectors and other traps that Nygma had place the closer he got to the mall. He used his grapple gun to swing through the tunnels, traveling faster than he would by foot, but still not fast enough.
“Well, Boy Wonder. This has been fun, hasn’t it?” Nygma chuckled. There was a smacking sound and a grunt, and Damian nearly missed his fall as he realized the bastard had hit his baby brother with his fucking cane. “But tell me, do you really think these imbeciles are worth saving? Are they really worth all this pain?”
Richard’s breathing was raspy, short bursts, wheezing. Yet, he still managed to speak.
“Four hundred. Four… Four hundred next.”
Even Nygma seemed surprised by the boy’s determination.
“The riddle will have to be harder than the previous one,” Riddler reminded him. “And my reward for you getting it right will have to be even greater. Are you sure you can handle that? Why, you can’t even stand up right now.”
Richard was gasping as one did after nearly drowning.
“Fine…!” Richard spit out. Damian could barely hear his voice. “Make it… Make it Four hundred and ten, then.”
Another stunned silence. The laughter that followed was manic enough that it could have belonged to the Joker.
“Well, well! If you are so certain, then! Your next riddle will be for the life of four hundred and ten hostages! I take it you’ll want those to be the eldest ones this time, huh?”
Damian did not hear a verbal reply, but he was certain his brother must have nodded. Thanks to Timothy’s warning, he managed to just avoid a large quantity of acid that was poured down from a previously non-existent compartment on the top of the tunnels.
“He truly did build his defenses like a castle,” Timothy murmured.
A castle that was Damian’s job to infiltrate.
“How noble,” the Riddler said. “Your determination to proceed forward is certainly admirable, Robin. And to think your talents are being wasted with the other Bat Brats. You know, if you were under my tutelage, I’m certain you’d be able to accomplish great things. It would certainly be a better use of your brains and creativity than whatever it is the current Batman makes you do.”
Damian let a low growl. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Deathstroke had showed interest in his baby brother, did he also now have to worry about Nygma, of all people?
“Not… In… Terested…”
“What a pity,” Nygma managed to genuinely sound disappointed. “Maybe you’ll change your mind in a few years once you grow bored playing sidekick. Regardless, we must move on. Can you riddle me this, Robin?”
“There are a few motion activated guns coming up ahead, Batman,” Timothy said. “They’re trained on the ground, so stay high.”
“A nightmare for some, a savior for others. My hands are cold and bleak. It is the warm heart they seek,” Riddler whispered with a smile. “What am I, little Robin?”
Damian aimed his next hold twenty meters ahead. He tucked his feet close as his body went up and used his free hand to tug at the bullet-proof fabric, encasing himself inside the cape. His heart felt like it was racing a marathon, his attention split between moving as quickly as possible and paying attention to his Robin.
Richard’s reply was barely a mumble.
“Death.”
Damian landed on the ground and continued to race.
“Correct!”
“Fuck,” Jason cursed. Neither Timothy nor Damian could admonish Jason for his language. “Where are you, Batman?”
“I’m almost there, Sparrow. Stay put.”
“Fuck that!” Jason cried. “You don’t have visual on Di— on Robin! You’re not seeing how much blood there is! He is only little! He can’t handle more of this!”
Damian knew. Damian knew, he knew, he knew. And he was trying to get to his boy as fast as he could, but it didn’t feel fast enough.
“If you’re not here by the time he frees the next batch of hostages, I’m going in!”
“Negative,” Damian avoided yet another pour of acid. “You’re going to stay put and wait for my signal.”
“I’m not going to just sit here and watch as my little brother is tortured!”
“And I’m not letting you risk Robin’s life because you were too foolish to follow orders!” Damian was swinging midair, avoiding another round of automated bullets. “If you go in there before we know it’s safe, not only are you putting yourself and the hostages at risk, but Robin as well! And if anyone else gets hurt, all his suffering will have been for nothing.”
“Who ca—”
“Robin told us to trust him!” Damian yelled. “So we’re going to trust him. I’m getting there as fast as I can and you will not put your or his life in danger! Do you understand me? Stay. Put.”
Jason didn’t reply, but that might have been because the four hundred and ten hostages were released. Through the thirteen year old’s comm, Damian could hear the sound of the police and paramedics coming to check on them as soon as they walked out of the door.
“Batman, you’re three hundred meters away from the last camera I have access to,” Timothy said. “After that, you—”
“I got it from here, Nightingale. Focus on getting control of those guns,” Damian instructed. “Inform me as soon as you get it done.”
“Got it.”
Damian could see the end of the railway tunnel a good kilometer or so ahead of him. The Gotham City Shopping Mall Station was located two levels underground. To his knowledge and memory, there were at least two sets of escalators, one set of stairs, and one large elevator connecting the platform to the ground level, the entrance being within the mall’s north lobby. The Riddler held the hostages and Dick by the south atrium, right by the building’s main grand entrance. Once on the same floor, Damian had to run through the entire length of the mall while avoiding Nygma’s other traps and hoping he could get to them in time before the man decided to make Richard and the hostages pay for Batman’s interference.
It was risky. Perhaps Damian should have followed his own orders and waited while Timothy could assure them that he would not put any more lives at risk when crashing into the scene. It was stupid and it was risky…
But Damian could not let his baby brother be tortured any longer.
He was a hypocrite, yes… But when it came to Richard, he didn’t care.
Jason could yell at him all about it later, once they were all home, Richard was patched up, and they were all alive and safe.
“Four hundred and ten,” The chilling calmness in Nygma’s voice made Damian wish for that manic delight from moments before. “That’s a little over thrice the number of hostages released before. Now, I ask you, Boy Wonder, what could be three times worse than being shot three times?”
Damian broke into the light. The platform was long, stone walls with old architectural pillars and grimy flooring with faded yellow lines all around. Its speakers, too, blasted those Christmas song that sounded so eerie when played in an empty space.
Damian’s feet barely touched the ground before he fired his grapple gun at an old grotesque atop one of the pillar.
Richard didn’t answer the Riddler. His heavy breathing was the only indication Damian had that his baby brother was still alive.
“You did catch me uncharacteristically unprepared,” Nygma cooed. He was closer to Richard’s comm than he had been since the boy managed to sneak inside. “I predicted a lot of different scenarios, but Batman putting his precious little Robin at risk? Why, if I had known we would play this game, I would have brought more toys along with me.”
Midair, Damian released the hook and then took aim at a light on the ceiling in the middle of the escalator. The angle of the curve was sharp, painful, but Damian doubted it could compare to what was waiting for his Robin.
“But you know what they say,” Nygma’s voice was even more of a whisper. Damian could make out just the slightest smile. It made his breath into a lump that got stuck in his throat. “Limitation is the mother of creativity!”
Richard screamed. It sounded breathless, hoarse. It kept going and going, broken by sobs, broken by desperate gasps for air.
Damian felt nauseous. He felt his limbs shake as he arrived at the ground floor and ran to the atrium, ran to where his little boy was. He could not imagine what Nygma was doing to him, but he knew the man was going to pay.
There was another scream. This time, Damian didn’t need Richard’s comms to hear it. They echoed inside the mall so that note and every note of agony and anguish and pain was magnified.
“I wouldn’t scream so much if I were you, Robin,” Nygma said. He must know by this point that Damian was on the ground floor even as he chose to keep his focus solely on Richard. “There are still quite a few hostages you have to release, and you’ll need your voice to answer to answer my other riddles.”
Damian used the grapple gun to cover more distance quicker, swaying through obstacles such as kiosk, escalators, and little indoor gardens. He passed through the large aquarium that Richard always ran to whenever they came to the mall together, greeting each fish by name as if they were all old friends.
Another scream. It was broken by a sob and gasps. Damian was sure his heart would leap out of his chest.
They were in sight now. All of them. For the first time since Richard entered through the vent, Damian had a visual on the scene. The remaining hostages were hurdled together in front of a Bath and Bodyworks store, Riddler’s automated guns pointed at them. Many had tears in their eyes, others were angry but dared not take a step forward least they trigger one of the Riddler’s traps. None could stand the horror in front of them, almost all either covering their ears, closing their eyes, or doing both. The smell of vomit was unmistakable.
There was blood on the ground. Not enough to kill someone, but enough to leave them dizzy, lightheaded. Enough to be worrying, enough that the only way someone could have lost such large quantities would be through a painful injury. Enough to need a transfusion, especially if all of it belonged to a little nine year old boy who had always been small for his age.
Richard was on all fours on the ground. Him and Nygma were right at the center of the atrium, as if they were demonstrators showcasing a new product. The water fountain behind them was still on. Richard was gasping as he struggled to breathe — two broken ribs. Pulmonary contusion could be a risk. In the cold, so could pneumonia — and his arms, which supported his weight, shook. There was a pool of blood beneath him, a gunshot wound on each of his feet. His left hand had also been shot and Nygma was pining Richard to the ground with a knife that pierced through the wounded flesh.
“Ah, Batman!” Nygma was crouching, standing too close to Richard. His cane — the cane he used to beat Damian’s baby brother — was discarded on the ground beside him. He turned to look at vigilante slowly, with a condescending smile. He did not release his hold on the knife. He did not step away from Richard. “Finally decided to join us?”
“Step away from him, Nygma!” Damian growled.
“What a tempting proposition,” Nygma made a show of thinking. He twisted from one side to another. Richard bit back his lower lip, holding back a sob. It made Nygma chuckle. He repeated the action. “But I think I’ll pass.”
The hostages were looking nervously between Batman and the guns. Damian ignored them. His entire focus was on his Robin, his baby brother, his boy.
“I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
Before the Riddler could respond, Damian aimed the grapple gun at the cane. Nygma realized a second too late what would happen, but by that point, the rope and hook were receding, bringing the cane with him.
Damian tossed it behind him, out of Nygma’s reach. For half of a second he considered snapping it in half, then quickly discarded the idea. Knowing the Riddler, he had some contingency plan prepared, some sort of defense mechanism built into the thing that would activate should it break.
Nygma stood up. His knife was still pinning Richard’s hand through the wound. The little boy could barely raise his head, yet he still found the strength to turn it and offer Damian a shaky watery smile as Batman charged towards the Riddler.
That smiled gave Damian’s punch all the more strength. The feeling of Nygma’s nose breaking beneath his fist was perhaps the most satisfying thing he had ever experienced.
Nygma was on the floor. Damian watched from the corner of his eyes as Richard pulled the knife from his hand. The boy sucked in his breath and got to his feet, cupping his hand close to his chest.
Dick had faced many Gotham’s rogues, petty criminals, and mobsters in his short time as Robin, but Damian had yet to see him in such a state. Blood coated the majority of his clothes, the knees of green pants were now colored red, the yellow inside of his hooded cape stained and ripped at the bottom. He was curving inward, not able to stand up straight, his breathing far too shallow. His hair was matted, some strands sticking out where Nygma had apparently grabbed a handful and pulled. There were bruises forming in his face, his lip split, and his black domino mask did not hide the redness of his button nose or the tears that streaked his cheeks.
Damian gritted his teeth and stalked towards the Riddler. There was a fire burning inside his chest, a fire Damian could not contain. He needed to set it free and let it burn the man who hurt his baby brother.
Damian picked the Riddler up by the collar with one hand. The man still had the audacity to smile even as blood dripped from his nose.
“Do you really think this is wise, Batman?” he laughed. “Now, if your predecessor were here, he would know that—”
“Batman!” Timothy’s voice cut through. “I’m in! I cut off Nygma’s control of the system! His guns are down! Everything is down!”
Damian smiled.
“Time to come in, Sparrow.”
Jason crashed down from the roof, his expression lacking Sparrow’s usual impish smile. With a kick, he knocked down one of the automated guns, and turned his attention towards Richard.
Seconds later, Commissioner Gordon, the GCPD, and the SWAT team were rushing into the mall, along with the paramedics. They had received Sparrow’s signal. As they charged through the doors, half of them ran to the hostages, while the other half was coming to where Batman and the Riddler stood.
Damian kept his grip on the man’s collar punched Nygma one more time. As he heard the steps of the police with their guns drawn, he tossed the villain to the ground. Nygma grunted in pain. It was less than the man deserved. It was a lot less than what Damian wanted to do to him. The fire burned inside, urging him forward, demanding he show Nygma what a pissed off Batman was truly capable of.
But Damian had more important things to worry about.
Jason stood by Richard’s side, supporting him him up, softly talking to him while giving him smiles brimming with praise. Commissioner Gordon was the only other person who approached the small hero, kneeling in front of Richard and dressing the hand wound. He looked every bit his age in that moment, his eyes looking at the boy with worried affection of a experienced father.
Damian rushed towards them.
Richard looked up. Damian could not see his eyes beneath the domino mask, but he knew that expression well. He smiled that toothy grin that showed off his recently lost baby teeth.
“Batman…!”
And just like that, the fire had been extinguished. In its place, only worry and love for his little boy remained.
Damian pulled him into his arms. He was as gentle and careful as if Richard was made of glass. The boy rested his head on Damian’s shoulder, his arms looping with difficulty around his neck. Damian wished he could hold him so tight as to become a shield that would protect him from everything.
“Knew… You’d find a way in…” Dick whispered.
Damian snorted.
“Of course,” a pause. “And I knew you I could trust you to be strong and protect those people.”
He felt Dick grin again against his shoulder, the boy’s hold tightening just slight. Behind them, the Batmobile stopped right outside the doors of the shopping mall.
“You did well, Robin,” Damian said. “Now let’s get you home.”