It Comes With the Cape

The Wayne Brothers

Boy, he's on a schedule and everything. 

"In the meantime, though, I have to make some negotiations with your father. Now, if you'll excuse me..." he left, signaling the guards to come outside to talk.

Cliché number four, and we are good to go.

Not ten seconds later, Tim had freed himself. He stood up, dropping the ropes that had held him and revealing the Swiss Army knife he had used to cut them.

"Get me! Get me!" Jason whispered loudly.

Tim started to cut at Jason's ropes just as the guards walked in.

He placed the knife in Jason's hand and bolted behind a bunch of crates as the guards yelled "HEY!" --That's the fifth-- and started running after him.

Jason quickly sawed through the ropes on his wrists and launched himself at the guards. He was thinking along the lines of, If Tim can get out, he can get the rest of us later. Of course, that was placing a lot of trust in Replacement, but that was a risk Jason was willing to take.

Tim climbed a stack of crates and reached the skylight as Jason did his best to just hinder the guards and keep them from shooting his brother. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Tim was in the clear. Jason was so relieved that he didn't see a third guard enter with a tranquilizer gun. He heard a gunshot, and suddenly he was on the ground, staring at a rapidly fading ceiling.

xXx

Tim ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He had to find a way to contact someone, anyone. He didn't have his cell phone, and the waterfront-- Cliché six--  was deserted. Cliché seven. 

Although he didn't doubt his skills in running, he figured he would have pursuers soon enough, and they would have rides.

I just need to find someone with a cell phone! he thought to himself. In his rush, he almost missed his solution.

A payphone.

As he fished desperately through his pocket for spare change, he stared at the old device, hoping against hope that the ancient thing still worked-- it  looked like it hadn't been touched in years. He almost cried out in relief when he found a quarter among the lint and paperclips. He shoved it in the slot and was relieved to hear the dial tone signaling him to punch in a number.

In the middle of a Paranormal Activity marathon, Dick jumped sky-high when he heard the phone ring. Pausing the movie and giving himself a moment to shake out his jitters, he answered it, admittedly with some annoyance: "Heyo, it's me."

"DICK! You answered! I can't believe this thing works! We're being held in a warehouse on the docks! It's an old Waynetech place--"

"Woah, woah! Slow down, bucko! What happened?"

Dick heard him take a deep breath. "Some guys are holding us for ransom down by the waterfront. The guy in charge left for negotiations not two minutes ago. Unless you want Bruce to lose half his fortune, you might want to get moving!"

Dick ran toward the display case with his suit. "Do you have a more specific location than that?" he asked as he started to change.

"I didn't see what the number on the warehouse was, but right now I'm by 622-A, and I ran west a while. About twenty-five swings."

"Okay, so you were about twenty-five swings east of warehouse 622-A. Anything else you can tell me?"

"Yeah, they've got Jason, Damian, and tranquilizers. You need to--" Tim paused. His speech was slower and slightly slurred as he pseudo-cussed, "Oh, fuuuudge."