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This was bad.
Nightwing struggled against his restraints. His hands and feet were chained together around a support beam in some warehouse. All efforts proved fruitless. The cuffs were too tight and too thick for him to get out of, even if he used his vampiric strength.
Deathstroke knew better than to underestimate him.
The mercenary had caught him by surprise. One minute Dick had been patrolling, and the next… well, Slade had done what he did best: ruin Dick’s night.
Most of his gear had been taken. Nightwing could see his escrima sticks laying on a table across the room, along with his utility belt, gauntlets, and boots. His comm was gone as well. His mask was gone, too, not that it mattered. Slade already knew exactly who he was.
And speak of the Devil.
“Good morning, Mr. Grayson,” Slade greeted as he appeared in the stairwell.
Dick stood to face his captor. “What do you want, Slade?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“At least we both agree you’re old.”
Slade rolled his eyes. “Always so quippy. To answer your question, Richard, all I ‘want’ is to fulfill my contract.”
“So, what? You’re here to kill me? You could’ve done that already.”
Deathstroke smiled. “Right you are. So no, Grayson, I’m not here to kill you. Not tonight, anyway. See, my contract is to simply keep you occupied for a few hours while my client does business in Blüdhaven.”
Nightwing narrowed his eyes. “What client?”
“I’m afraid that’s none of your business.”
“And you really expect me to believe you’re just gonna let me go?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” Slade shrugged, “but the fact of the matter is, I’m not stupid. I know damn well your little Bat family is already on their way, and I have no intention of being here when they arrive.”
Slade was right. Dick had managed to press his distress signal before going down, so it was pretty likely that Babs already knew where he was.
Out of nowhere, Slade whipped out his pistol and fired a shot directly into Dick’s right knee. Dick immediately crumbled to the ground with a scream of pain. He’d been shot plenty of times, but it had never hurt like this. He felt like his knee was on fire.
“Consider that a parting gift, and a way to make sure you stay out of my client’s hair tonight,” Deathstroke sneered. He turned to leave before adding, “I hope you enjoy. I’ve been saving that bullet just for you. It’s infused with vervain and has a silver casing. Perfect for bats, no? Until we meet again, Richard. Try not to be so easy to catch next time.”
Dick barely registered Deathstroke leaving. He was in complete and total agony. With the cuffs changing him to the beam, he couldn’t straighten his leg out. He was half-kneeling, half-squatting while trying to keep as much of his weight as possible on his left side. The wound was bleeding profusely, which was not good. Not good at all.
An indeterminable amount of time went by – it could’ve been seconds, minutes, or hours. Between the vervain poisoning and the blood loss, Dick had long since lost track of time. Suddenly, two figures appeared in front of him: one hulking and black, one lithe and purple.
“Nightwing, report,” Batman immediately demanded while he started working on his ankle cuffs. Spoiler dug some gauze out of her belt and applied pressure to his wound. It made Dick gasp in pain.
“S-Slade shot me,” Dick replied with gritted teeth, unable to keep from shivering. He already felt feverish. “B-bullet’s made of silver and infused w-with vervain.”
“Shit,” Steph muttered as she examined his injury. “There’s no exit wound. Bullet’s still in there.”
“Y-you gotta get it out,” he pleaded. “C-can’t heal until it’s out.”
Spoiler looked conflicted. “The bullet could be lodged in the popliteal artery. You’d bleed out in minutes.”
“T-the b-bullet will kill me f-faster.”
Batman finished unlocking the cuffs around Dick’s ankles, allowing his legs to stretch out. Dick almost cried in relief. His father then moved on to the cuffs on his son’s wrists. “He’s right, Spoiler. We have to get the bullet out now so he can start healing.”
“But how do we stop him from bleeding out?” Steph countered as she continued to hold pressure. “I thought injuries made by silver weapons take longer to heal? And that’s not even taking the vervain into account.”
She did have a point. It was a lose-lose situation, really.
Stupid Slade.
“Just get it out, please,” Dick was begging now, tears streaming down his face. “I need it out.”
Bruce finished freeing Dick before gripping one of his hands. “You’re going to be okay, Chum. Just hold on.”
“Batman…” Steph trailed off, obviously conflicted.
“Remove the bullet,” Batman ordered. “We’ll do what we can to stop the bleeding after.”
Spoiler swallowed roughly but nodded. She dug some needle-nose pliers out of her belt and sanitized them. “Try to stay very still, Nightwing.”
After applying a tourniquet to Dick’s leg, Steph got to work removing the bullet. Dick clenched his teeth but couldn’t keep from screaming as the already intolerable pain erupted like a volcano filled with molten lava. His fangs shot out without his permission, and red bloomed across his vision.
“Um, B?” Steph warned, “his eyes are glowing.”
“Focus on getting the bullet,” Batman snapped. He then cupped Dick’s face in his hands. “You gotta focus, Chum. I know it hurts, but you have to stay in control.”
His father’s words were muffled by the loud heartbeats of the two humans in front of him. Steph’s face was flushed with adrenaline, her heart racing as she dug through his wound. And her blood… it smelled divine.
“Dick, look at me,” Bruce demanded, blocking Steph from his line of vision. “You can do this.”
Dick tried, but it was all too much. The pain, the blood loss, the poison, it was making him delirious. Delirious and hungry.
“Nu te lăsa să scapi, fiule. Reluați controlul.” {Don’t let yourself slip, son. Take back control.}
Bruce’s use of his native language snapped him out of it. Dick leaned forward and touched his forehead to his father’s. “Încerc, tată, dar mă doare atât de tare.” {I’m trying, dad, but it hurts so much.}
Batman’s hands remained fixed on his son’s face. “Știu că ești, Dick. Stai puțin mai mult pentru mine.” {I know you are, Dick. Hang on just a bit longer for me.}
“I got it!” Steph announced triumphantly, holding the bullet up like a trophy.
Dick slumped back against the beam in relief, his fangs retracting as he did so. His knee still hurt like a bitch, but at least the molten lava had been downgraded to smoldering charcoals.
“He’s bleeding really badly,” Spoiler reported grimly. She had discarded the bullet and returned to holding pressure against his wound. The once white gaze pads were dyed dark crimson. It made Dick light-headed looking at it.
“Chum, is there anything we can do to make you heal faster?” Bruce questioned.
Dick blinked, his thoughts slow and murky. “B-blood. Fresh blood helps.”
Batman didn’t hesitate. He ripped off his gauntlet and shoved his wrist under Dick’s mouth.
“N-no,” Dick tried to refuse. “Not you. N-not when I almost l-lost control.”
Dick never fed on live humans when he could help it. He mainly fed on donated blood and the occasional animal. He had fed on Bruce a few times in the past, but only in the most dire of circumstances. And none of them had involved vervain affecting his control. It was too risky. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt Bruce in a feeding frenzy.
“We don’t have time to rob a blood bank. Dick. You need blood, and you need it now. I trust you, Chum. You won’t take too much.”
He didn’t have the willpower to reject Bruce’s offer a second time. He reluctantly protracted his fangs then, after one more encouraging look from his father, sank into the offered flesh.
The fresh blood was like ambrosia on his tongue. He lapped at the puncture wounds greedily, relishing the feeling of the hot liquid running down his throat. Every drop made him feel stronger, bringing him back from the brink of death. He could almost feel his vasculature starting to repair itself as the fresh blood negated some of the effects of the poison.
Stay in control, he reminded himself as the pain lessened enough to clear his thoughts. Don’t take too much.
As soon as he knew he had enough to survive the ride back to the Cave, Dick shoved Bruce’s arm away from him. The Dark Knight nodded and accepted some fresh gauze from Stephanie.
“Did that help?” Batman questioned. Dick wiped his mouth on his sleeve and nodded, though his cheeks were warm with embarrassment.
Spoiler inspected his wound. “It’s bleeding a lot less now. I’m going to dress it and immobilize your knee, Nightwing. Then we can get you out of here.”
“We’ll get you more blood when we get to the Cave,” Batman promised as he finished bandaging his wrist. “You still look pretty pale.”
“It’s the vervain,” Dick rasped. “It’s still in my system. Just need to… sleep it off.”
The adrenaline high from Bruce’s blood was quickly fading. That combined with the poison still coursing through his body made his eyelids grow heavy.
The strong hands of his father carrying him to the Batmobile was the last thing his brain registered before he passed out.
When Dick woke up, he felt worlds better. His broken knee was in a brace propped up on some pillows, and he no longer felt feverish. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw he was in his room at the Manor.
“How are you feeling, Chum?”
The voice belonged, unsurprisingly, to Bruce. His father was seated in a chair next to him, his tablet nestled in his lap.
Dick pushed himself to sit up. “Better. Thanks, B. You really helped me out of a tough spot.”
Bruce moved his tablet to the nightstand then put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Of course, Dickie. Taking care of you and your siblings is my most important job.”
The eldest Wayne child scoffed. “I’ll bet when you signed up for fatherhood you weren’t expecting to have to act as a walking blood bank.”
“I knew every child I took in would have their own specific needs,” his father said with a small smirk. “Besides, I’d do anything for you kids. And as I said, I trust you. I knew you wouldn’t take more than absolutely necessary.”
“You had more faith in me than I did. It’s been so long since I’ve dealt with vervain, and coupled with the blood loss and silver… I was terrified of hurting you. I almost lost control.”
Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “But you didn’t, Chum. You didn’t hurt me at all. I’m just glad you’re going to be okay.”
“What about Deathstroke and his client?” Dick asked.
“I’ve got Cass and Jason looking for Wilson, but you know as well as I do that they probably won’t find him. As for the client he was keeping you away from, I had Tim do some digging. Turns out, Blockbuster was trying to make a deal with Black Mask. They brought Kate in as backup and busted up the deal.”
Dick let out a sigh of relief. Slade’s mission had failed. His family had taken care of everything.
Rest came easily after that.