Drunk Texting | T. Drake ✔

[10]

I: Hood, I need your help.

J: if by that you mean murdering someone or hiding a body, then you don't even have to ask. I'm totally in.

I: a friend of mine got kidnapped. Again.

J: who? I'm guessing it's a Wayne boy, right? They get kidnapped twice every month.

I: yeah, it's Tim.

I: and I want you to help me in retrieving him.

J: ah, so that means I'll get to kick asses, definitely.

J: meet me at Crime Alley in five minutes.

J: I have a plan.

***

It had been off time and Irina was surprised to not see Tim come out of the building. Upon asking the gatekeeper, she found out that no one had seen him leave. But of course he had come to work that day, she was sure she had seen him go to Thomas' department.

"And no one is stopping for overtime?"

"No one Ma'am," the gatekeeper replied, "I checked the building before locking all the departments. There's no one inside."

Her brow furrowed in concern and the only thought that flickered across her mind was that Tim had probably gotten abducted.

Again.

"Maybe Mister Drake left when I was on tea break," the gatekeeper mused, "he would be at his house by now."

"Yeah maybe he left earlier," she nodded, "but you do remember that it's your job to keep track of who enters and leaves the building and when exactly. Don't go for tea break that long next time, understand?"

"Definitely, Ma'am, you won't get any complaint again."

"Good."

The driver was waiting for her so without any further ado, she got inside the car which took her back to the Luthor Mansion.

However, soon as she got there, she locked her room, changed into the vigilante suit and slipped out of the secret trap door. She left a note saying Do Not Disturb on her bedroom door though so that Nathalie or anyone else would refrain from coming in.

She stopped in wait near Wayne Manor, hiding herself in the shadows but still there was no sign of Timothy Drake. By then she was getting more and more convinced that he had been taken.

Whipping out her phone, she quickly wrote a text to the only person she knew would help: Red Hood.

Hood, I need your help.

It didn't take long for him to reply: if by that you mean murdering someone or hiding a body, then you don't even have to ask. I'm totally in.

A small smile flickered on her face, of course he was bound to reply thus.

A friend of mine got kidnapped. Again.

Seconds later, the text showed up: who? I'm guessing it's a Wayne boy, right? They get kidnapped twice every month.

She was surprised at how regular the situation was for Red Hood: yeah, it's Tim. And I want you to help me in retrieving him.

Her screen lit up again as he sent a reply: ah, so that means I'll get to kick asses, definitely. Meet me at the Crime Alley in five minutes. I have a plan.