Chapter Text
“We’ve been looking for you.”
Dick had been going for a quick trip to the grocery store. He was expecting to find people discussing, some teenagers smoking weed or a homeless person asking for money in front of his apparent building. Somehow, three men in suit and a black car with tinted windows hadn’t been part of his expectation.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” A guy with a knife trying to mug you in broad daylight? That’s just another Tuesday in Blüdhaven. But these guys? They’re not from here. They don’t fit, and that makes them dangerous.
As Nightwing, he could deal with them, but he’s not Nightwing right now.
“No, but we know you. You’re the son of John and Mary Grayson.”
That’s… unusual. Typically, that kind of people want to have “business” with him because he’s been adopted by Bruce. To bring up his parents in this is taking him out of his comfort zone.
“Yes I am,” he says, seeing no point in lying. “Why? Do you want a private show or something?”
They don’t seem to find his joke funny. “You’re going to come with us.”
Dick snorts. “No, I don’t think so. Not until I know what you want with me.” Around them, passerby are avoiding walking between him and the men, purposefully not looking at them. Dick can’t blame them; this is a city where one learns quickly to mind their own business.
“I see. It seems that our friend here needs a little persuading,” the one who seems to be the leader says, and, at the same time, as if choreographed, the two other get digital pads out of the suitcases they carry.
Dick would laugh if it wasn’t for the images on these pads. Wayne Enterprise, and Gotham high.
Bruce and Damian. Trough the eyes of snipers. His heart misses a bit.
“Isn’t it a bit excessive?” Whoever these guys are, the money isn’t just for show if they can hire snipers that can get past Bruce’s and Damian’s defenses. There is the possibility that the videos are fake but… is Dick willing to risk it?
“Our contractor isn’t a man of violence. We didn’t want to abduct you on the street.”
Dick snorts. Yeah, right. “And that’s not violence?”
“Not if you follow us.”
“You know if you mess with the Waynes, Batman will eventually show up,” Dick tries. He doesn’t like to get that card out, especially this early, but with Bruce and Damian as targets, it’s not like he can bolt or fight these guys.
“We are well aware of that. Now, will you get in the car, or should we choose who we’re starting with?”
Dick raises his hands in the air. He activates the distress signal hidden in a bracelet he’s always wearing as he does. “Alright. Lead the way.”
One of the men opens the door of the backseat and he gets in. As soon as the door is closed, he sees the light on his signal disappear. Jammers. Great.
The car windows are black even from the inside, and he can’t see the front seat. Two of the men are still with him, and of course, he doesn’t know what happened to Bruce and Damian. Now is not the time to try something.
He still tries to count the miles, and analyze the turns they’re making. It doesn’t take him long to realize he knows this road.
“Wait a second. Are we going to Gotham?” These idiots think they can escape the Bat in Gotham of all places.
No one answers him but the look on the men’s faces say enough. “We are, right?”
Still silence from his captors. “You’re not talkative ones, are you?”
Silence.
“Alright. You were looking for me, not because I’m Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son, but because of my parents. Why?”
For a second or two, he thinks no one is going to answer, and then one of the men says, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
And that’s all he gets from this car ride.
When the car stops, he’s pretty sure they’re in Gotham. The door opens, and the one who seemed to be the leader appears. They’re indoors, somewhere with no light.
“I hope you understand this is a necessity,” the man says while showing a blindfold and a noise canceling headset, as well as handcuffs. “I don’t need to repeat what will happen if you don’t cooperate, I suppose.”
Dick sends him a dark look, but he let the men put them on him. They’s right in one regard. He knows what will happen if he doesn’t cooperate. Though, by now, his distress signal must have reached them, there is no way of knowing of they actually took care of the snipers.
They make him walk, and take him to what he thinks is an elevator going down. It’s going down for a long time.
Gotham’s underground network. They’re not nobodies if the rogues let them in. Or maybe it’s a usual suspect? But why would they target Dick Grayson specifically, and not Nightwing? And why bring up his parents?
He doesn’t have time to dwell on it before he’s forcefully sat down on a chair and tied to it. He knows rescue is coming. He does. But something about this just doesn’t feel right.
His heart misses a beat when the blindfold and the headset are removed and he realizes where exactly he is.
The Owl’s nest. Dick thought it’d been concreted over after the Court had been destroyed. Apparently, part of it still exists.
There are courts symbols all over, and Dick hates it within his core. The Court is gone. It is. They can’t hurt him, or his family anymore. These people are just… They’re just reckless.
“You really aren’t scared of the Bat, are you?”
“Silence,” one of his captors says. “Our master is on his way.”
Dick puts on a brave face as the door opens. He can’t say part of him wasn’t expecting the sight, but he can’t say part of him doesn’t want to run and scream at the sight of a man with an owl mask.
“The court is gone, you wannabe cosplayer,” he says. He will figure out a way to explain why Dick Grayson has that information later.
The man laughs, sound distorted by the mask. “Is it, now? But there is still little old me.” He takes a step toward Dick. “They all underestimated me. They wouldn’t let me in on everything, but looks like I’m the only one left, now.” He takes another step, and his gloved hand cups Dick’s face. “No, Gray Son of Gotham, the Court isn’t gone, not as long as one of us remains.”
Dick feels an animistic instinct wake up in him when the uses that name for him. Not the violent kind. No, the kind that makes him feel like a prey.
He needs to get out of here.
“The Court isn’t gone. It simply is weakened, and we’re going to give it its splendor back.”
“We?” Dick asks, his voice a little strangled.
The man tilts his head, like the question is absurd. “You and I,” he says “we’re going to do great things together.”