There's like four paragraphs of angst, but beyond that, it's just normal me writing.
Also, longest chapter ever to have come from me.
So yeah.
xXx
Dick figured that, after the sixteenth episode of Young Justice, he needed to take a break from sitting around alone watching television. He needed company.
He left the home theater room, heading to the kitchen. He could usually find someone there.
No one was in there. Right, of course Alfred wasn't, he was out running errands. But Jason could almost always be found here getting some kind of food, usually bread.
Dick wandered off to Tim's room. Maybe the nerd was currently puzzling over a case there. But, alas, he wasn't. Dick checked everyone's room, to no avail.
He frowned slightly as he checked the TV room he had left. It wouldn't be the first time Jason lured him off just so he could commandeer the television for himself. But no, it was still empty.
Maybe they were training or working on a case in the Batcave. Yeah, that was probably it. Dick went to the grandfather clock and opened the secret door. "Guys, where are you?" he called ahead as he made his way down the stairs. "It's boring up here!"
The chair in front of the computer was empty. Bruce was at his day job, so Dick wasn't expecting to see him, but he was hoping to find Tim doing research, or even Jason watching illegally downloaded movies. Anything would be better than being this lonely.
Eventually, he resigned to pulling a Jason and started watching TV on the Batcomputer. It was bigger than their television anyway.
xXx
Jason had a headache. For a while, that was all that occurred to him as he sat there with his eyes closed. He sat there, trying to keep his cranium from throbbing more than it already did.
Then he remembered what had happened earlier.
He suddenly sat bolt upright, looking around him. He didn't recognize any of his surroundings beyond the fact that they resembled a warehouse. Okay, that's one cliché down.
As he turned in the chair he was tied to, he saw Tim behind him to his left and Damian to his right. They were arranged back-to-back in a circle. Well, it was more of a triangle, but who cares about technicalities like that. Their hands were tied behind them and almost touching.
Tim was slumped in his chair, clearly fidgeting with his hands. Damian was already gagged and looked ready to murder someone regardless of their involvement in his plight. By the only visible door, two men in ski masks and holding automatic rifles stood guard. Cliché number two.
Jason looked at the storage crates. Most of them were unopened, although some seemed never to have been sealed in the first place. What surprised him the most was the logo on them.
Waynetech.
The door opened, and a third man stepped in. This one was in a suit and tie, carrying himself like a businessman. Jason only knew what that looked like because of the time he spent at Bruce's company, and he wasn't sure he liked what it implicated.
"Good to see you're awake," the man greeted.
Cliché three.
"I apologize personally for the delay. We were waiting for your other brother to get here, but it seems that there were... complications. As of now, we'll be moving on with our plans. If all goes well, you should all be out of here within the next twenty-four hours."
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."
"Tim? What's going on?"
"They hit me... with a tranq. Aw... shoot. You... don't you dare...." His voice trailed off.
Dick could hear a loud clattering noise, then an ominous click as the receiver was hung up.
He set his jaw, revving his bike and racing out of the cave as he called Bruce on the comms.
xXx
Tim woke up slowly. As he stirred, he heard a man say, "Well, it's about time." He recognized the voice as that of the man in charge.
He opened his eyes to find him right in his face, almost nose-to-nose.
The man's expression was hard. "You nearly ruined this whole thing, you know that?" he asked. "We almost didn't have time to move you boys." He stood from his crouch in front of Tim, turning away. "You know... that really bugs me. I had everything worked out so smoothly, and you had to go and ruin it."
Jason was just starting to wake up, and Damian was a bundle of duct tape with almost nothing showing but his hair, eyes, and nose. He was almost indistinguishable from his chair, with the only thing not attached to it being his head.
Tim returned his attention to the man, who seemed pretty intent on monologuing.
"I don't like it when people spoil things for me," he was saying. He turned back to Tim and crouched in front of him, this time grabbing his hair in a hand, forcing him to look straight at his captor. His tone grew sharper. "You know that?"
Tim curled his lip. "All right, I'm sorry I spoiled your fun by trying to save myself and my brothers. Happy?"
The man shoved his captive's head to the side and drew a deep breath. "No. No, I am not."
He drew back his hand and struck Tim across the face.
Jason, who had just woken up, yelled, "Hey!" and Damian let out a slight grunt of protest.
Tim found his next breath driven from him with a vicious blow. Before he knew it, the man was raining punch after slap after jab after clout. He struck his ribs, his jaw, his stomach, anything remotely vulnerable. He was vaguely aware of Jason struggling to free himself as the enraged abductor beat him, on an on. Blow after blow came, striking already-bruised flesh. It got to the point where Tim was afraid that the man would kill him rather than getting the ransom.
However, after what seemed like an eternity, the man stopped himself. He wiped the blood off his fists and straightened himself out. "Must look good for negotiations," he muttered to himself.
He left the room, signaling the guards outside to come in.
Tim groaned, trying to shift his weight to hold him less painfully. He felt a warm liquid dripping down his chin, and wiped his bloody nose on his shirt.
"Tim, are you okay? Besides the obvious, I mean?" Jason asked worriedly.
Tim shrugged. "I got blood on my most comfortable shirt."
"So you're not, like, in immediate danger of dying?"
Tim turned to him and grinned weakly. "Nah. I'll live." He started to pick listlessly at the ropes pinning him to the chair.
Out of the blue, Nightwing dropped on top of the guards, knocking them out. He turned around, and when he saw Tim, his eyes grew wide. "Are you okay?"
Tim winced as Dick cut the ropes tying him to the chair and he started to move again. He stood up, then promptly fell down again. "Gimme a second, then yeah."
Dick freed Jason, then started to work on the cocoon of duct tape that was Damian. "There's cops and an ambulance on the way," he told them.
As Tim started to stand again, Jason stopped him. "No way. Stay there."
By now, Dick had Damian's upper torso free. "Jason, this will take a while--" he started.
Jason cut him off. "I'll stand guard. You're better at taking off duct tape than either of us anyway."
"No, I'm just nicer about it," Dick corrected. He freed Damian's torso and started cutting at his ankles. Damian took a batarang and started to work at his waist.
Tim blinked hard. "Would it be okay for me to just pass out?" he asked.
"Just a couple more minutes, and the police will be here," Dick told him. He was almost to Damian's knees, and Damian was about a third of the way down his thigh.
"Stupid duct tape," the assassin muttered to himself.
"You said it," Dick agreed.
When they could hear sirens approaching in the distance, Nightwing stood up and ran to check for any guards that could potentially put up a fight with the police, leaving Jason to help Damian to remove the last of his cocoon.
As Jason yanked the last of the tape off (Damian yelped), the door opened, and a police officer came in, pointing his pistol around warily. Seeing the boys, he lowered it and asked, "Are you all right?"
Tim sighed exasperatedly and slumped in his chair. "What does it look like?"
xXx
Their captor was arrested during the negotiations he made such a big deal about. Upon learning the captive Waynes were safe, the police moved quickly, and he was behind bars within the hour to await trial.
Tim passed out as soon as they got him in the ambulance. He didn't need a hospital visit any more than he had in the past, but this time it was Tim Drake, not Red Robin, who was hurt. They could afford for him to go this once.
He awoke to see his surrogate father and brothers by his bedside. Even Damian was there, albeit asleep.
Bruce smiled that comforting, fatherly smile and patted Tim's arm. "Good to see you awake."
Tim blinked hard. "I'm on so many painkillers right now, aren't I." It wasn't a question.
Dick chuckled. "How could you tell?"
Tim held up three fingers. "Two things. One, I should be in so much more pain."
"And two?"
"I don't have two."
Dick snorted.
Tim turned to Bruce. "Hey, Bruce, ask me if I'm okay."
Bruce raised his eyebrows amusedly. "Are you okay, Tim?"
"I'll say it now: I'm on so many drugs right now, if I wasn't, I would be concerned!" Tim started laughing. He looked at Dick. "I haven't been this smashed since Jason spiked the once-alcohol-free punch!"
Dick tried his best not to laugh too hard. However, the endeavor was completely fruitless. He had seen his fair share of funny things, but seeing Tim like this took the cake.
Jason covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to shake his phone camera too much. That would decrease the value of the blackmail, and he hadn't had a new addition to his collection in weeks.