Chapter Text
Tim's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of the warehouse assaulting his senses. Disoriented, he blinked several times, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
Where was he?
He was in a dimly lit warehouse, the air heavy with the scent of dust and musty crates. Tim shifted his gaze downward, only to find his worst fears. Thick ropes bound his ankles and wrists, digging into his flesh that surely will left angry bruise mark. He attempted to wriggle free, but the knots held tight as he was propped to sit on his bruised knees.
Tim had no clue where he was.
So an abduction then. Batman had trained all of them well, so Tim forced himself to slow his breathing, keeping it steady and controlled despite the pounding of his heart. He focused on cataloging the sounds around him, his senses on high alert as he tried to piece together his situation. Tim strained his ears in the dark, trying to discern any other presence.
He knew he was in a hostage situation. The events leading up to his abduction were hazy, but he remembered leaving Wayne building, wanting to head home. He had called Jason to pick him up since Bruce had banned him from riding his bike following last week's accident. Just as Tim ended the call, he briefly remembered that someone had crept up behind him before everything went blank.
So Tim was not panicking. He was fine. Being kidnapped was nothing new to him; he had experienced it countless times before, both as Bruce Wayne's adopted son and as the Drake heir. He knew the drill. This was just another Tuesday kidnapping. Everything would be fine.
Tim's breath hitched as he heard the sound of rustling clothes and movement nearby.
He wasn't alone.
After a few tense moments, a voice cut through the suffocating silence. "Tim, you there?"
"D-dick, is that you? It's dark, I can't see you." Tim stammered, fighting to keep his panic at bay. If Dick was here too, then this situation was far more serious than he had imagined.
"Yeah, baby bird, it's me," Dick's voice filled the silence, calm and steady despite the situation. "Are you hurt?" Concern etched into every word he spoke.
"I'm not hurt, as far as I can tell. I'm just ... feeling a headache," Tim lied. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle. He knew it was more than just a headache; his ankle was sprained from the earlier event. But he kept silent, not wanting to burden Dick with more worry.
"Do you know how we got here?" Tim's voice trembled slightly. As Red Robin, Tim was accustomed to facing danger head-on with calculated precision. However, in this situation, he had to cloak himself in the guise of a frightened, vulnerable multibillionaire heir.
"I remember leaving the manor after dinner. The next thing I knew, I woke up here, just like you." Dick replied as he shuffled closer to Tim.
Every movement felt like a battle against the unyielding restraints. The cold metal chains dug into Dick's wrists and ankles, restricting his movements. It was far harder than Dick had anticipated with his hands bound behind his back and his legs secured in a similar fashion but he needed to ensure his younger brother was safe, especially after hearing the tremble in Tim's voice.
Finally close enough to see Tim's appearance, Dick's gaze swept over him, searching for any signs of injury. There was a split on Tim's lips and a few minor cuts on his right cheek, but otherwise, Tim appeared relatively unharmed.
Tim sighed. At the same time, Dick scooted closer, offering a comforting presence, and Tim would never, not under pain of death, ever admit how much that helped.
"I don't know who's behind this," Tim admitted, the memory still raw in his mind. "I was just outside Wayne's Building when they grabbed me," he explained, chewing his lips in frustration.
Dick smiled. "Hey, don't worry. Bruce will definitely come for us. He's probably already on his way, tracking us down."
Suddenly, a groan broke the tense silence, causing both Tim and Dick to startle. A familiar, rough voice followed with a blend of annoyance and familiarity.
"Can you guys keep it down a bit?" The voice grumbled, its rough edges softened by a hint of exasperation. Tim's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice of his other older brother.
"Jason?" Tim called out.
Dick glanced at Tim, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes despite their dire circumstances. "Sorry, Jay," he responded with a sheepish grin. "We'll try to keep it down," he promised, his tone lighthearted .
"How long have you been up?" Tim asked, his eyes squinting as he strained to make out the shape of Jason's figure. Jason's silhouette shifted slightly in the dim light. There was a brief pause before he finally replied.
"Not long," Jason admitted, his voice gruff with discomfort. "But this stuff they shot me up with is no joke. Got me feeling like I went ten rounds with Bane," he grunted.
Tim frowned. "I can't believe they got you too."
"Yeah," Jason sighed. "Those fuckers caught me while I was trying to find you. I waited outside WE for what felt like an eternity, thinking you ditched me. Then, just when I spotted someone suspicious and decided to tail them, I got ambushed outta nowhere."
That's — That's not good. A knot of unease forming in Tim's stomach. Whoever had orchestrated their abduction was likely a professional, not some amateur thug. Why would they target three adopted sons of Bruce Wayne? What could they possibly want with them? Were they after something more than just ransom? Could this be somehow connected to their vigilante identities?
Please don’t be Ra's … The others don’t need to know how creeptastic that guy is. Seriously.
Dick's brow furrowed as he processed Jason's words. "We need to find a way out of here. But first, we need to figure out where 'here' is."
Before anyone could respond, the door exploded open with a deafening crash. Heavy footsteps reverberated through the warehouse, accompanied by the sickening stench of blood and cigarette smoke. Mocking laughter filled the air, suffocating the tense atmosphere and signaling the arrival of their captors. In the doorway stood three masked figures, their frames outlined by the dim light.
One of them, the bigger one stepped forward. His eyes, cold and calculating, fixated on Tim with an unsettling intensity, sending a shiver down Tim's spine. A sinister grin twisted his lips as he surveyed them, his gaze lingering on Tim with predatory intent. There was a laughter. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he sneered, his gaze sweeping over Tim's frame. Tim felt a chill run down his spine. Something about the situation felt off.
More laughter, followed by a dismissive comment. "Wasn't that difficult, really. But they're here now, and that's all that counts, right?" Tim could sense the arrogance in his tone. There was a hum before the bigger one started walking towards them.
Dick's brow furrowed in concern as he exchanged a worried glance with Jason. Tim could sense their unease that things were about to get a lot worse before they got better.
"The boss mentioned we could enjoy ourselves with these guys until he arrives. Says he's got some matters to attend to." The bigger man declared.
Then, the man knelt beside Tim, his rough fingers gripping Tim's chin and forcing his gaze upward. Tim took a moment to track each little detail of the man before him — The man had a rugged appearance, with a stubbled jawline. Scars crisscrossed his arms, his breath reeked of stale cigarette smoke and beer. "What a pretty little thing," the man said and Tim flushed at the comment, feeling a surge of humiliation rise within him. Instinctively, Tim tried to shake off the man's hold, but his grip only tightened, rendering him immobile.
Tim knew he was ... well, attractive. It was something everyone else always said. Sure, he had a delicate look, with his hair now flowing nicely down to his neck because he refused to cut it, a face that could almost pass for a girl's, and a slender, slim body with muscles in a few places. It was not his fault that he was gifted with soft features — naturally pouty lips, big blue doe eyes, long eyelashes, and a button nose. He enjoyed being called pretty by his family and friends, it made him feel proud of himself. But right now, Tim couldn't help but felt sickened by the man's objectification of him. It was as if the man's words were crawling under his skin.
Across the room, Tim saw Jason's face remain stony, devoid of any emotion as he stared at the goon beside him, his jaw clenched. Dick's gaze bore into the man before Tim, as if he could tear the man's throat out with his bare hands alone.
Dick's voice was low and dangerous, barely containing his simmering rage. "You lay a hand on him again, and you'll regret it," he warned.
The man chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. We've got plenty of time to play before the boss gets here. And I intend to make the most of it."
"You've got some nerve," Dick shot back, his muscles tense as he struggled against his restraints. Mocking tones filled the air as the other bad guys joined in the laughter.
The man before Tim paid no attention to Dick's warning, his smirk widening as he leaned in closer. Slowly, he reached out and caressed Tim's cheek with his rough hand. Tim flinched and risked another glance back at Dick, meeting his wide eyes to see the same controlled panic he felt himself. The man made a low noise in his throat, his eyes assessing Tim's form, deep in thought.
"Such a pretty face," he trailed off, his voice laced with malice. "So delicate. I wonder how long that innocence will last in here." Jason growled lowly under his breath. His jaw tensing at the remarks.
"You talk too much. Ever shut the fuck up."
The man's smirk faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "Touchy, aren't we?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you take your own advice. Maybe that would make things better, hm?"
With a grin, he withdrew a knife from his pocket, its gleaming blade catching the dim light as it slid into view. He pressed the knife threateningly against the corner of Tim's lips, eliciting a shiver from him. Jason seethed in silence, his eyes burning with fury, fists clenching at his sides.
Dick's eyes flickered with concern as he pleaded, "Please, just let him go. He hasn't done anything to you."
The man didn't utter a word as he let the knife to graze slightly against the skin at Tim's cheek, just below his right eye. Tim winced in pain, the sting causing him to whimper softly.
Drawing closer, his breath hot against Tim's skin, the man hovered over him. Despite the fear tightening his chest, Tim kept his mouth shut, his gaze defiant as he glared back at him.
The man said, "Consider it a taste of what's to come. Trust me. What's coming next will be far worse." He gave Tim's cheek a rough tap before getting to his feet and making his way over to others. Upon reaching the entrance of the warehouse, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Tim strained to hear the conversation, catching only snippets about their boss and being here. Was the boss someone familiar, or a completely new threat? Nevertheless, it seemed like they targeted Tim more than anyone else.
Meanwhile, Jason's voice broke through the tense atmosphere. "We need to get out of here. Fuck! Where the hell is old man?!" He let out his frustration as he scanned their surroundings, searching for any possible means of escape.
"We'll find a way out, Jason. Stay focused. We've been in worse situations before." Dick replied, his voice steady and his expression calm. Tim forced a nod. Right, the only logical thing to do now was to find a way out. If Tim could be lucky for once, and these guys were just mobs, then they were probably after the Gotham Baddie Standard Package: Bruce Wayne, money, ransom, etc.
"Can't you see what they did with baby bird over there a while ago? They're a bunch of creeps. They'll have to step over my dead body before they lay a hand on Tim again."
Tim's heart skipped a beat as a figure stepped into the dimly lit space. Wait — Robert Cole? What's he doing here? Tim's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. The last time Tim had seen Robert was at a charity gala, where their interactions had been anything but pleasant. Robert's eyes met his and Tim's pulse quickened, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Then, Robert smiled. But the sight of him now filled Tim with a mix of disgust and anger.
Everything's clicked into place.
"Look who's landed themselves in a mess," Robert grinned and made his way to Tim. "You always did have a talent for attracting trouble, Drake," he continued, his smirk morphing into a grin.
Tim kept his mouth shut, glaring.
Jason and Dick were already shooting him suspicious glances, they were all trained detectives after all. None of them would have missed the familiar way the man was talking to him.
Robert stepped closer, his gaze lingering on Tim's bruised face. "Seems like my men already got their hands on you," he said, then knelt, his fingers trailing over Tim's cheek.
Tim gritted his teeth. He knew he must look a mess right now — cuts littering his face, dark circles under his eyes, and his once neatly tied back hair now a tangled mess. He must look pathetic.
Tim recoiled from his touch. "Don't touch me, you fucking weirdo," he spat.
Suddenly, Tim's head is jerked upwards by a hand in his hair. He groaned at the uncomfortable force behind it, eyes watering again.
"You've always been a smart-mouth, haven't you?" Robert sneered. "Should've gagged you from the start."
"You sick bastard," Jason spat, his voice filled with disgust. "Try that again and I swear, I'll — "
Robert interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand, cutting off Jason's threat. "Save your breath, tough guy. You're not calling the shots here," he sneered, his grin turning predatory. "I am."
"You think you're tough because you've got us tied up like animals?" Jason mocked, amused, but Tim could almost hear how tense he was. The metal chain clanked while his muscles strained against the bindings. "You're nothing but a coward."
Robert clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed by Jason's words, before snapping his fingers at the goon standing behind Dick. A shiver ran down Tim's spine as he watched Dick's protest turn into a desperate shout when the man behind Dick pressed a gun to his head.
Jason fell silent. If he wasn't careful, someone else might get hurt. The whole situation was already fucked; one wrong move and they were done. Jason let out a breathy hiss, his knuckles white from how tightly he gripped the cuffs.
Robert stepped back, a smug smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the scene before him. He seemed to relish in the fear and tension that filled the air, his gaze flickering between each one of them with a calculating gaze. Without a word, he gestured to his men, silently instructing them to keep a close watch on them. Tim watched the goons tighten their grip on his brothers while Robert walked over to the chair in the middle of the room and sat down, his posture relaxed. His gaze fixed on Tim and after what felt like an eternity, he motioned Tim to come over, clearly enjoying it.
Tim shook his head, refusing to move. "Fuck you. I'm not coming anywhere near you." he retorted.
"Why are you doing this?" He demanded, his voice wavering slightly. He couldn't be sure if it was from fear or angry. "If you want something from me, leave my brothers alone. They're not involved in whatever shit we had. This is between you and me."
For a moment, Tim could see the hot fury beneath Robert's smug demeanor, but it quickly faded, replaced by a charming smile. His smile widened as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Tim. "Ah, Drake," he said, his tone smooth and mocking. "Always so defiant. It's admirable, really."
He paused, as if savoring the moment before continuing, "As for why I'm doing this, well, let's just say our little disagreement at the gala left me displeased. Embarrassed, even." He leaned forward, his expression serious. "But this isn't just about the gala. It's also about being removed from being WE's shareholder. I didn't take too kindly to being ousted by a teenager."
So, this was all about. Tim couldn't believe Robert was holding a grudge and taking such drastic actions against him.
"I don't give a damn about your ego or your feelings. You're the one who messed up, not me. And now you're resorting to kidnapping? Pathetic."
The memory of that night flooded Tim's mind. He recalled the argument that had simmered between them, the sharp words exchanged in front of Gotham's elite. Tim had refused Robert's offer, sensing ulterior motives behind his seemingly innocent gesture. Their argument had been explosive, ending with Tim publicly removing Robert as a shareholder of WE.
Tim could feel Jason and Dick's hard stares behind him, knowing he needed to explain everything to them. He shut his eyes, the headache he had been feeling earlier coming back.
Robert laughed. "You don't get it don't you?"
Standing up from his seat, he strode over to Tim, who met his gaze with a steely glare. Without warning, Robert grabbed a fistful of Tim's hair, yanking him close to his chair. Dick shouted, but Robert ignored him, dragging Tim to a nearby chair and throwing him near it. Tim winced as pain shot through his sprained ankle from the impact of the fall. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Settling back into his chair, Robert grasped Tim's face firmly. "Don't play games with me, Drake."
Tim's mouth shut in a thin line. Being on his knees, with tears welling up in his eyes and a desperate look, he must have looked pathetic. He felt exposed, vulnerable.
Then, suddenly, a hush fell over them. Tim didn't know what Robert was thinking, but his gaze made him uneasy. Robert made a low, thoughtful hum. With deliberate slowness, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a sleek, black gun — the metallic click as he checked the chamber, making sure it was loaded. Without a word, he forcefully grasped Tim's face with his left hand, squeezing it tightly, while his other hand forcefully pushed the gun barrel into Tim's mouth. Tim's breath hitched. Tears ran down his cheeks as he struggled to break free from the man's grasp.
"Open up."
Robert pushed the barrel past Tim's lips, causing Tim to choke and triggering his gag reflex as he struggled to suppress the urge to retch. He let out a small gasp, feeling humiliated and disgusted. His face burned with embarrassment, and he could feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. He flushed with shame as Robert pulled away the gun, revealing a string of saliva.
"Let him go, bastard!" Dick snapped, his voice cracked with protectiveness and in response, the goon behind Dick swung his gun, striking him hard across the face. Dick grunted, his cheek already starting to bruise in angry red, blood trickling from a cut on his lip. He grimaced but didn't cry out, his jaw clenched in pain. At the same time, Tim strained against Robert's grip, tears of pain and humiliation stung his eyes. Though he couldn't see Jason, Tim could hear the curses intended for Robert and the thud of Jason restraining himself from pounding the floor.
Robert's grin widened, all sharp. "You see, I hold all the cards now. So unless you want your baby brother to meet a tragic end, I suggest you cooperate." He taunted, pushing the barrel of the gun past Tim's lips in a mocking way.
"Would you like to make it up to me, pretty?"
Tim’s heart leaped to his throat. He couldn't look away from the terrible grey of those eyes. He knew exactly what Robert was insinuating. Fully submit — let Robert do what he want with him. He was only vaguely aware of Dick calling his name, voice sharp with concern. Horror crept down his spine, like ghostly fingers tracing the contours of his bones, descending with chilling intent.
Tim had been trained from an early age to withstand nearly all kinds of torture.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt.
Tim didn't even realize Robert had unzipped his pants and forcefully maneuvered him towards his groin. He tried not to gag when the thing reached his mouth. He felt the weight of Robert's member pressing into his mouth — the sensation heavy on his tongue. The touch was repulsive, and Tim struggled to maintain any semblance of control over his own body. His thoughts drifted, desperately seeking escape. There were a few whistles from the men, their lewd gestures and sounds. From behind, he could hear Dick's wounded noise and Jason's horrified shout.
Jason's voice exploded in a fury that was just too loud for Tim to understand, but it was hot and protective and Tim wanted nothing else in the world but to bury himself in his big brother's side.
Suddenly, Robert's weight lifted off him, a whirlwind of movement caught Tim's blurred, teary gaze. Batman was upon Robert, delivering punishing blows with a controlled fury. Batman’s eyes narrowed and his whole body seemed to clench in rage. It was hard to get a good reading on Bruce through the mask, but his hands began to shake where they were beating Robert. That was odd. The Batman never shook, his hand was impossibly steady, his aim deadly. Looking around, Tim saw Orphan, Robin, and Spoiler moving with practiced precision as they fought the goons. The goons, caught off guard by the sudden assault, attempted to fight back but were no match. Some tried to flee, only to be swiftly brought down. Dick and Jason had broken free from their restraints. Dick darted towards the goon behind him, deftly attempting to disarm him. Jason, however, was enraged, delivering repeated punches to the man who had harassed Tim earlier.
It was all too much for Tim. The realization hit him like a freight train, overwhelming his senses. Desperate to get away from all the noises, he crawled even though his sprained ankle screaming in pain. He tried to stand but his knees buckled under him, and he would have hit the ground hard if not for the strong arms keeping him up. "Tim, son — "
Panic rose up in Tim’s chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Bruce's unmasked face face swarm into view in front of him, but Tim couldn’t seem to focus on it. His lips moved, but no sound reached Tim's ears. A loud ringing filled his head, drowning out all other noise. The room felt devoid of air, and his lungs burned for breath. Then, everything went black.