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Contrary to popular belief, Dyl didn’t fall into these situations on purpose. Most of the time, he was minding his own business until something happened to him rather than him doing something to end up here. Here being tied to a chair and barely waking up from a possible concussion. Yeah, not how he wanted his night to go.
From what he could remember, he’d really just been trying to walk to his apartment and passed an alley and apparently the people there didn’t like his face. (Definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact Dyl noticed suspicious cash and suspicious bags and decided the best thing to do was walk up and go: “Hey! Are you guys thinking of committing a crime?”)
There weren’t many lights on, making seeing the blurry shapes further down harder. He also couldn’t hear very well. Instead of trying to figure that out, Dyl focused on what he could see. There were boxes, some open, some not, filled with weird paraphernalia. None of them made sense with the other, but he didn’t have the brain power to try and figure out what was going on with them.
Tugging on the ropes proved they had a little give. Enough space between his wrists and the chair for him to undo the knot done on them. As long as he didn’t draw attention to himself.
Dyl looked up, squinting his eyes as his blurry vision started to correct. The people down there still weren’t looking at him. Either they hadn’t noticed he wasn’t awake or deemed him a non-threat. The second would be more insulting if Dyl hadn’t been haphazardly kidnapped.
It wasn’t his first time. Not that it was common, but enough that he knew if he waited, it would all be fine. Most of the time, it didn’t take longer than an hour for someone to realize what happened and find him. Most of the time that person was Jason.
All of the time that person was Jason.
Really, the man had a weird habit of tracking Dyl. When it took him too long to get a response from a text, he’d be calling. If Dyl wasn’t in one of his what Jason called “Checkpoints”, he’d get a call. If Dyl was more than five minutes late to them meeting up, Jason was already halfway to his location while rapidly texting.
In Jason’s defense, Dyl understood. After everything Jason went through, the man got a pass. Except the one time he woke Dyl up from sleeping in because Jason texted him only three times in an hour and Dyl just wanted a lazy day. Not on Jason’s watch, the asshole.
So waiting it out would be just fine. Dyl closed his eyes and once his hearing got better, he tried opening his eyes. Not blurry anymore. The people down the warehouse weren’t talking. They also weren’t looking at each. Dyl stared back down at his hands. They hadn’t bothered tying his legs to the chair. Amateurs, then. Much easier to escape from.
Being quiet while undoing the knots was another thing. They were easy, sure, but accidentally drawing attention was the last thing he wanted to do. He managed to get through most of the first one before his foot slipped and squeaked against the chair.
Dyl froze and slowly looked up from where he was undoing the knot. Both the goons at the other end were staring at him.
“Heyyy, guys,” he said, “Mind helping with this?” The goons laughed, at least.
“You’ve got some confidence,” Goon One said. No real reason for him to be One. Just the first one who talked. Was that sexist for him to be Goon One and the woman to be Goon Two? Goon Two kept talking: “Most folks in Gotham just look the other way when they see an obvious arms deal being planned out. Not you.”
“Well, I mean,” Dyl said, “I thought it would go differently.” There was a sound somewhere up in the rafters. A distinct zip. Relief flooded him and he didn’t look up.
“How?” Goon One asked. “That we’d all just sing kumbaya?”
“Depends. Do you have a karaoke machine?”
Red Hood dropped from the rafters before either goon could answer. Dyl went back to his restraints as he heard them landing blows. It wouldn’t take long, at least. He managed to get the first knot undone and with his hand free, he didn’t have to gnaw at the scratchy rope. Success!
He started on the second knot. There was a thud of two bodies. Dyl tried to work faster, but the relief of Jason showing up had dissipated a little. There was a lecture coming in about—
“What the hell were you thinking?” a modulated voice said. Dyl looked up, fingers stuttering on the rope.
“Would you believe me if I said this was an accident?” he tried. The glowing eyes of Red Hood’s helmet were less intimidating since Dyl had seen them more and more often. Jason shook his head and looked down before pulling Dyl’s fingers away and undoing the rest of the knot for him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. How many?”
“Y’know I wish I could tell you.”
“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Dyl couldn’t get a word out in defense. Jason grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the chair. It made the floor spin a little, but he managed to sling an arm over Jason’s shoulders as they made their way to the warehouse doors.
They got halfway before the sound of a gunshot caused Jason to pull them to the side. Dyl yelped at the change. Not like he could have done anything about it. Going to the gym didn’t mean shit when his best friend regularly slung himself around the city with a grappling hook.
His head throbbed as Jason pushed him against some of the wooden crate Dyl had been eyeing earlier. Thank God for warehouses and their weird boxes. Actually, this one didn’t have a label. Dyl kind of wanted to know what was in it. He stared at Jason’s crowbar on his back. The man wasn’t looking at him. Maybe he could…
“Just sounds like one more,” Jason said, “Do you at least remember how many there were when they took you?” Dyl squinted his eyes at the crowbar as he tried to think.
“Uh, three for sure.” he said, taking his mind off the crate at his back for now. His head still hurt and trying to focus on what caused the headache in the first place. When he’d walked down the alley, it opened up into a very small square. There were a few set-ups for people to sleep under and Dyl wasn’t sure if he remembered another person under one of them. Or if they were even part of the deal.
“Maybe… Maybe a fourth?” he still said.
“We’re gonna have a talk about your situational awareness,” Jason said as more gunshots rang out. They were getting closer. Jason grabbed Dyl and kept them crouched down as they found another shelter to sit behind.
“My situational awareness is fine,” Dyl argued, “I saw money and cash and heard ‘guns’ and rightfully determined it was an arms deal.”
“Yeah, and most people don’t walk straight up to people planning an arms deal!”
“… I didn’t tell you that. How did you know that?”
“Barbara, you idiot.” Dyl hummed as they stopped behind new boxes. He should have know Babs would’ve found some type of camera angle on him. But now they were at least taking down one side of the arms deal. See? He was being helpful. And he was tired.
“What are the chances I get a nap?” Dyl asked. Jason whipped his head from where he was looking over the crate to try and find the Goon Three. Dyl stared at him as he waited for an answer. Naps always helped his headaches.
“No!” Jason hissed. “No nap! We have to check if this—” he flicked Dyl’s forehead which earned an ‘ow’ “—Is bleeding in the Batcave.”
“Ugh, you’re so mean.” Jason sputtered. Another shot rang out and Dyl winced, sliding further down the crate.
“Stay here.” Jason said. He stared at Dyl and Dyl raised his arms in surrender. He learned his lesson… sort of.
Jason checked his ammo and pointed at Dyl before stalking off. Dyl stared at the floor and traced shapes in the linoleum. What kind of warehouse even had linoleum flooring? It probably belonged to a shell company.
In the distance, there were the typical sounds of Red Hood fighting off a goon. It shouldn’t take him too long, but now Dyl was bored. Probably a good thing after everything that just happened, but he didn’t like being bored.
Dyl looked behind him at the crate. The lid wasn’t nailed down and was partially open. He listened for a moment before hurriedly turning to peer inside the crate. He squinted in it and the multiple plastic packages. When he pushed the lid a little, he grinned.
Inside the wooden crate were several plastic bags of soft looking blankets. Dyl shifted the lid back bit by bit before stopping so it wouldn’t fall off. He pushed through them, looking at the labels before finding one that was long and wide enough to wrap around himself properly. Plus, it was blue.
The plastic only made a few sounds as he opened it. The thing smelled musty, but he was right in determining they were soft. Softest thing he’d ever held, actually. He unfurled it before sitting up a little so he could wrap it around himself. Fuck Jason and his no nap rule. This was the peak of comfort.
“Dyl.” Dyl slowly opened his eyes. Jason was staring down at him, chest heaving.
“There’s like forty more if you want one,” Dyl said. Silence. “This one matches your eyes!” Dyl grabbed the corner and held it up, closing one eye to make it look like the blue sat just under the helmet’s eyes. “Okay, well not right now but—”
Jason grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled Dyl up. He glared at the man and grumbled about not being comfortable anymore, but at least Jason didn’t take the blanket away as they finally got out of the warehouse.
“Jason, he’s literally fine. He just needs to rest.” Tim said. Dyl was watching the brother’s argue from afar, wrapped in the blanket he stole, and sitting in a not spinny chair. They took his spinny chair away because he kept spinning while Tim was trying to do tests. Shining a light in his eyes was rude and he stood by that.
“You didn’t even rule out if he has a brain bleed or—” Jason started. Tim poked him in the chest as he interrupted:
“He passed everything else. It’s a mild concussion and he didn’t even throw up. He just needs to lie down and not look at screens for a while. And also avoid people selling illegal goods.”
“Hey!” Dyl shouted. It echoed in the Batcave. “I helped take them down!”
“You helped age me by five fucking years,” Jason shouted back. Dyl stuck his tongue out at him. Jason flipped him off.
Concussions weren’t really that big of a deal. It wasn’t like he had anymore than any of the Bats. They all knew the plan by now when one happened. Jason just had more of a protective edge than most of the Wayne’s. It happened a month ago when Dick fell through a roof in the middle of a fight and not even two weeks ago when Tim got hit by rebar.
But, if Tim said he could rest, that meant he could sleep. The brother’s had started arguing again anyway. Dyl leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He was just starting to doze when he heard Jason get closer and then pat his shoulder. Dyl groaned but stood and started walking towards the stairs. He still didn’t open his eyes and got a “there’s a chair there” warning right before he hit it.
“Asshole,” he mumbled, “Help me.” Jason grumbled but Dyl could hear him walking over. An arm slung over his shoulders before Jason started leading him to the stairs. This time, he gave him a warning to step up instead of letting Dyl run straight into the thing.
“Seriously, Jason,” Tim said, “He shouldn’t even be thinking too hard.”
“I’m just going to read to him!” Jason said. “My voice is very calming.”
“More like grating,” Dyl said.
“Excuse me?” The arm around his shoulders disappeared. “Make your own way to the guest room.” Dyl opened his eyes as Jason made his way up the stairs to the clock. He glared at the retreating figure and curled the blanket around him tighter.
“Oh, I’m Jason Todd and I’m such a good friend I left my best bud dying on the stairs.” Dyl grumbled to himself.
“Your legs work fine!”
“DYING!”