Chapter Text
Waking up chained to a wall was never a good sign.
Tim groaned as he struggled to get his bearings. He was in a dark cell, possibly underground based on the lack of windows. The concrete floor beneath his body was cold and unforgiving, contributing to the deep ache in his bones. The last thing he remembered was walking to his car after a business dinner with some WE clients. Based on the dull throb in the base of his skull and the slight blur in his vision, he’d probably been drugged.
Wonderful.
He did a quick, internal scan of his body. Post-drugging hangover aside, he didn’t seem to be injured. His suit jacket, tie, and shoes were all gone, leaving him in his sleek button up and dress pants. Since his phone and watch were also missing, Tim didn’t have access to any of his emergency beacons.
He gave his chains an experimental tug. They were tight—the coarse grit of the iron bit into the skin of his wrists and ankles every time he attempted to move. Even if Tim were to dislocate his thumbs, he wouldn’t be able to slip out. He was completely and utterly stuck.
Tim took a minute to steady his breathing. This wasn’t the first time he’d been kidnapped as a civilian—not by a long shot. He could keep himself alive until someone found him.
And they would find him.
As soon as Bruce realized Tim wasn’t coming home, he’d immediately start looking for him. No one in his family would stop until they rescued him.
It was a comforting thought.
Somewhere outside his cell, he heard a door creak open. Seconds later, a man wearing a crisp black suit appeared on the other side of the bars.
“Looks like somebody’s finally awake,” he jeered, peering at Tim. The man’s face was mostly covered by an old-style hockey mask, similar to the one worn by Jason Vorhees in Friday the 13th—except, instead of being mostly white, this one was painted blood red.
Tim let an expression of fear fall over his face. “Who are you?”
“Who I am is of no concern, Mr. Drake-Wayne, though you may refer to me as ‘The Baron’. What matters is what I’m going to get from you.”
Internally, Tim rolled his eyes. This guy was so stereotypical. “So it’s money you’re after?”
The Baron cocked his head. “Money is not nearly as valuable as what I want. See, I have a source within Wayne Enterprises. Originally, my goal was to use them to gain access to corporate secrets I could sell to the highest bidder, but then, we stumbled onto something much, much better: a connection to the Batman.”
Dread poured over Tim like a bucket of ice water. “W-what do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve been lead to believe that Wayne Enterprises supplies Batman with all of his toys—maybe even funds him directly. Does that sound about right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim argued, shaking his head. Though, a bead of relief blossomed in his chest. The man clearly didn’t realize just how deep the connection went. Still, the fact that he didn’t nab Tim for a simple ransom certainly complicated things.
His captor seemed undeterred. “I thought you may be uncooperative, so I hired a couple of friends to help me. They specialize in interrogation.”
That didn’t sound very promising. Tim’s eyes widened, and he started squirming. He had to come across as a scared kid—a scared kid that didn’t know anything. “I’m telling you, Wayne Enterprises doesn’t have any connection to Batman!”
“And I’m telling you, Mr. Drake-Wayne, that my intel is sound. So, unless you’d like to experience pain unlike anything you’ve ever dreamed of, I suggest you think long and hard about what you say next. Now, my question for you is simple: who is the Batman?”
Tim had been threatened with torture over Batman’s identity before—it was an occupational hazard for Robins—but he’d never faced it without the mask and cape. Where Red Robin would laugh in this guy’s face and take the pain with a smile and a few quips, Tim Drake-Wayne didn’t feel nearly as confident. He felt woefully unprepared for something like this.
But that didn’t mean he was going to give in. Not by a long shot.
He scowled at the man in the mask. “I don’t know Batman’s identity.”
“I’ve done my homework on you,” his captor warned. “People are always talking about what a genius you are. Therefore, I find it very hard to believe you haven’t figure out the Dark Knight’s identity while working so closely with him.”
“Except I’m not working closely with him!” Tim snapped. “I don’t know where you got your so-called intel, but it’s bullshit. Besides, even if I did know anything, there’s no way I’d tell an asshole like you.”
The Baron shook his head, making a ‘tsk tsk’ sound. “So you want to be a hero, huh? Very well. We’ll see just how long that lasts.”
He slunk back into the shadows after that, leaving Tim alone. Real, genuine fear started to creep into his bones at the thought of what was to come next.
He could only hope that Batman found him before it was too late.
Bruce was freaking out.
Not on the outside, of course. Batman had perfect control of his emotions at all times. But underneath the cowl, Bruce Wayne was a different story.
Tim was missing.
He’d never made it home after his dinner meeting. When Batman and Robin had tracked the boy’s phone, they’d found it broken and abandoned in the alley between the restaurant and the public parking lot. Tim’s car was right where he’d parked it, locked and undisturbed.
“Oracle, have you found anything on the security footage?” he demanded.
“Negative,” Barbara said, her voice tight with frustration. “I’ve got Tim leaving the restaurant at 2043. He enters the alley but never comes out the other side. There’s nothing but static from 2044-2049. Someone must have interrupted the feed. Whoever took him knew exactly what they were doing and how not to get caught.”
A pit formed Bruce’s stomach. “Robin, any hit on forensics?”
His youngest son had been combing the alley for clues while Batman checked out Tim’s car. He shook his head. “Nothing, Batman. There’s no signs of a struggle and no traces of blood or other organic matter that my scanners can detect, so they must have knocked him out quickly.”
Dammit. Every dead end landed like a punch to Bruce’s gut. He needed to find his son now. But they had next to nothing to go off of.
“Okay, Robin, start knocking on every door in these buildings. Someone had to have heard or seen–”
“Batman, that’s not a good idea,” Nightwing’s voice crackled over the comms. Bruce had sent out a mass alert to everyone in the family as soon as he realized Tim was missing.
A spike of anger flared in his chest. “It’s the most logical next step in our investigation, Nightwing.”
“I know that, but Tim was taken as a civilian, remember? How are you going to explain to Gordon why you started canvasing a neighborhood investigating a crime that hasn’t even been reported yet?”
His eldest was right. If Batman started looking for Tim before the police did, then that would put all of their identities at risk. And what if the kidnappers called in a ransom and Bruce Wayne wasn’t there to answer?
He needed to get back to the Manor.
“Right,” he breathed. “Of course. Red Hood, Batgirl, and Spoiler, start patrolling the surrounding areas and see if you find any suspicious activity. Robin and I are going to return home and call Gordon to report Tim missing. If anyone finds anything, I want to be notified immediately. Understood?”
He got a chorus of affirmatives.
“I’m heading to Gotham to help,” Nightwing added. “We’ll find him.”
Of course they would. Bruce wouldn’t accept any alternative.
He refused to lose his son.