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Dick had been too well trained to lose track of time. Despite the constant darkness and the irregular visits from his captors when they came to feed him and interrogate him and do other things Dick could barely even bring himself to think about, Dick knew it was three weeks, two days and eight hours since he had been chained to the bed. He had made a good escape attempt in the first few days. After all, he had been in this sort of situation before. He knew how to loosen bonds and pick locks but bad luck and a bad play had left him with a broken wrist, a broken ankle and a nearly broken spirit to boot. All he could do now was hold on and wait, cold and ashamed, for rescue to arrive.
When the door swung open and light flooded in, it took Dick's eyes a minute to adjust. The doorway filled with a huge, dark silhouette. For one swift moment, the height and the bulk made Dick's heart soar as he thought Bruce had finally found him. He was going home. But as his vision focused that hope darkened like a cloud across the sun. Dick could not predict if this was rescue or simply a new jailer.
"Well ain't this a pretty sight, little bird," said Slade, with a smile Dick could hear behind his mask.
