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“Shit.” Dick bit back a wince as his arms were pulled behind his back roughly. The tie that had been loosely tied around his neck was now wrapped around his wrists tightly. He huffed out a sigh as his nose was pressed into the cold tile of the bank,
“Tying a man up with his own tie? That’s just wrong.”
The man behind him pulled on his wrists harder, adding one more knot for good measure, “Shut up, officer.”
“Detective.” He snapped back, grunting when it earned him a solid punch to his right kidney.
All he had wanted to do was deposit his paycheck and go home for the weekend. Yet, here he was, laying on the floor in the middle of a bank heist. Honestly, who even did these anymore?
“Hey!” Dick yelped as rough hands began to feel along his ribs. His department issued handgun was pulled from its holster and thrown in front of him. The hands continued down past his ass and to his ankle and a small knife at his ankle was tossed next to the handgun. “Take me out to dinner before you feel me—”
The same rough hand grasped a hand full of his hair, yanked his head back, and then slammed it forward into the hard tile floor. The impact made a resounding crack throughout the otherwise silent lobby. Dick’s vision went black for a minute and when it came back the room was spinning.
“I told you to shut up!” As Dick tried to blink his eyes into focus, the man behind him reeled back his foot and drove it into Dick’s ribs. “So, shut up!”
Dick coughed and pressed his cheek to the floor, panting quietly. There was blood pooling in front of him pouring steadily from his (probably) broken nose. Stars still danced in his vision when he heard a distant crash.
This is going to be embarrassing.
There was a total of five minutes of gunfire and screaming before there was silence again. Dick blinked slowly as two heavy combat boots stopped in his line of vision.
The boot wearing man in front of him squatted down and he found himself looking up at a shiny red mask, “Hia. Dickiebird. You look like you need a hand.”
Dick spit out a mouth full of blood and grunted, “Do not pick me up, Hood.”
“It wouldn’t be much of a rescue if I didn’t carry you out.”
The vigilante made quick work of the restraints on his wrists, bringing his arms around slowly and rubbing circulation back into his hands. Dick didn’t even have a chance to say anything else before strong arms were looped under his knees and behind his back. His was cheek pressed against worn familiar leather,
“Put me down, I’m not a damsel in destress! I’m a detective.”
His demand went unanswered, and he was carried to the front of the bank. As Dick was brought toward the front he watched quietly as Red Robin and Batman cuffed the three bank robbers. He was going to get an earful after this one.
“Why is it that all of the hostages go unharmed, except for you?” Hood mused as he pushed open the front door, making his way towards an ambulance.
“I was obviously a threat.”
“You didn’t look very threatening, caught in your own tie.” There was a modulated laugh and Dick resisted the urge to punch the other man in the shoulder—he did not want to get dropped.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Dick grumbled as he was deposited onto a stretcher. “I’m going to fill out the direct deposit paperwork, so I don’t get paper checks.”
“Sure, you are.”
“And I am very threatening.”
Red Hood just hummed, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder before he turned to walk away.