Chapter Text
Dick was not having a good day. He wasn’t even having a moderate day, which was almost always impossible, because his moderate day involved a certain wannabe-clown and a man named after inanimate object and an obsession with watching people suffer.
He was supposed to have a good day, however, because he was supposed to meet with Justice League today. Or, remaining of it. Clark and Diana was already insisting on being called uncle and aunt. And Dick was going on with that, because the duo made Batman’s mind blow out of water.
Only other time it happened was when Dick hugged Bruce. The man didn’t know how to respond to any kind of affection, and his only two close contacts – friends, Bruce! - were an alien with a heart big enough for the whole world and a warrior who would burn down the earth to protect what was her. (Dick didn’t know when dynamic duo entered that category, but he was happy with it)
Dick, excited simply because he was going out for a cape business, had been doing homework. Batman never did things by halves, and Dick knew a performance was expected. Homework was going through files Batman had about the other Leaguers. In the cave.
He was no longer in the cave.
So, yeah. Not a good day. He was laying down, staring at a white ceiling. He wasn’t tied down. He didn’t have a headache, either. Which meant no goon knocking him out with the week’s chosen melee weapon. Was it something he ate? But this would mean someone had access to Gotham Academy canteen, knew him out of cape, waited until he was in the cave, sneaked past the cave security and sneaked past Alfred, timed the dose just right for Dick to be in cave but Batman still out, sneaked up on him and got out.
No one sneaked past Alfred.
Still, kidnapping was his only reasoning. Perhaps he had gaps in his memory. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Hearing no sound, Dick sat up and took a look around. He was in the Robin costume, which meant he could fight without worry. He still had his mask, which also was a good thing because once he escaped, he could watch what happened and make sure it doesn’t happen again. He was in some kind of a medical facility, which was terrible. Only a few of Gotham villains or villainesses were rich enough and the ones who were had no interest in this sort of schemes.
Slowly, he slid down. The cot was unnecessarily high with no stool. Adult intended use. There was a tray, with a pair of generic clothes and a black, Kevlar-woven suit with a blue bird-like symbol on the chest. Adult size again. He would steal the suit if it fit, he liked it’s texture and reverse engineering was his hobby, but he couldn’t carry the suit around. There were two black escrima sticks, which Dick did steal. After checking for everything, though. They only had hardware to electrocute, and Dick wanted to replicate it. He raided the cabinets next, grabbing what he could need.
He could go out of front door. He probably was supposed to, since he didn’t know where he was, but he felt too exposed. He knew nothing about this place or how he ended up here. Here, in the windowless, small infirmary room. Where he would run out of air if there was no source, which would beat up the purpose of an infirmary. An alternate air source was needed in places like this.
Dick used the cot to launch himself to the ceiling.
His first two attempts ended up with him on the ground. At third, a panel of the ceiling fell with him. The noise was enough to fuel the urgency nagging him. He launched himself to the vent. It took him a little effort to crawl in, because the metal was annoyingly bad at creating fraction. If he was less familiar with crawling into vents, he would fall flat on his back. It wouldn’t be fun.
Now, all he needed was finding out where he was and how he could get back to Batman.
Dick crawled without a direction, trusting his guts. He took too long to crawl, with his fingers slipping on smooth metal. Who even designed this vent? As if they knew someone would try crawling. But it was not a problem. Circus escape rooms had crazier shit.
No swear jar if it’s not said out loud.
He stopped when he came to a four-way crossroad. He could catch his breath a little and then find a way down and a way to get out.
“Nightwing is gone!” A voice screamed from below. It took everything Dick had not to flinch and hit to the walls of the vent. Was there another prisoner? Could Nightwing be a code for Robin? But that wouldn’t make any sense. Codes were supposed to be shorter or clearer.
“What do you mean he’s gone, Hal?”
Hal. That was familiar.
“Our vents aren’t big enough for an adult, right?” Hal asked instead of supplying an answer. They were definitely talking about Dick, but why would they think Dick as an adult?
“Well, Batman made sure none of our regulars can crawl through it, so it shouldn’t be.”
Okay, Batman designed this place. Then it could be an alternate hideout that Dick hadn’t been in, yet. Was it discovered and now being used for crime or did Batman bring Dick here? But the latter was unlikely. And for the first, Batman had informants and allies, but among them only Leslie and Lucius were trusted enough to know some of Batman’s hideouts. Dick doubted even Alfred knew them all. So, it meant the hideout was compromised.
Just what he needed.
“But he’s gone, Barry, and I was waiting at the door. Only way out is the vents.”
“I’ll speed around.”
This one was Barry, Dick assumed. He wished the vents had grills so he could take a look.
What was the chances of these two being the Hal and the Barry he was going to meet today? But this would mean he was either at Hall of Justice or the newly constructed Watchtower. In both cases, he knew their locations and means of entry, so there was no need to knock him out and kidnap him to there.
He couldn’t just go down and ask if they were who he was supposed to meet. It’d be against everything Batman taught to him until this very moment. Too many unknown.
The duo separated beneath him, he could hear the one too fast and one rushed pair of footsteps. If Dick had to make a guess, they were after him. It was just his luck. Or paranoia of Batman was finally getting to him, which wasn’t too terrible since it saved Dick more often than not.
Dick wandered in random directions again. There were no grills and it was annoying. How was air being circulated if it had no outlet? But Batman wouldn’t take chances with someone spying through the vents. Which meant the outlet would look just the same as the usual ceiling, just like at the infirmary. Which meant he had no means of knowing if he was standing on a disguised grill.
Comically, the realisation came just a mere second before the plate beneath him gave up.
Dick braced. He let his knees take the brute and launched himself to a forward roll as soon as his feet had support. His knees ached. He didn’t do any stretching before this and he was regretting.
As soon as he could, he took a look around. It was some sort of kitchen and a green Martian was sitting on the counter. Staring at him. Staring at his soul in a way that reminded D-Robin Batman. Martians were telepaths. And shapeshifters. What could prove this one was the Martian he was supposed to meet today? Sure, to guys and their names, as long as this man’s species aligned perfectly, but Justice League was public. Names and species were public information. What if a group was impersonating them?
He wished Batman had told his codes with Justice League to Robin so he could confirm. Or would it be pointless? Martians could just rip the information from someone else’s minds and the weren’t even the only people with psychic powers.
And this one really liked staring.
“Uh,” Robin straightened. “Good day, sir.”
He slowly walked to the door as the Martian smiled, not turning his back until the very moment he started dashing through the corridor. He needed going back to the vents, because corridors were dangerous. Too open. He could spot the cameras, even. Robin wasn’t meant to be recorded.
Just perfect. He spent his whole year hidden from Gotham Gazette and left no trace of himself when fighting goons. Sure, Batman’s Rogue Gallery knew him, fought with him, but Robin stayed as a myth to the wider Gotham and its underworld. Now he was being recorded with a spotlight.
Turning from a corner, he ran into someone standing. He was in civvies, as tall as Batman. Well built, at least from back, but it wasn’t like Batman well built. More like how Dick wanted to be, more lean and subtle.
He didn’t need to duck the swing coming. The man aimed high. Green flashed and Dick threw himself forward. He didn’t want to be at the receiving end of that fist or anything that was beyond laws of physics. He looked back only once to confirm the look, though. It looked like the Green Lantern he saw in the files.
The swing left the man's head very open, though, and Robin wasn’t going to waste a good opportunity. He aimed the chin and pushed himself off of the floor, knocking the man out.
Robin heard footsteps coming in, fast. He went back to the corner.
The blur that peeked through the corner after curses met with his baton extending. Dick swung when the staff found its target, knocking the second incomer out. He didn’t need to worry about this two for a little bit. But how many people were in this strange place?
Guessing game would be pointless. Dick moved forward. He had to find an exit or a computer. Directions would work, too. Why there were no signs when every hall looked identical and there was too many turns?
Right. Batman designed this place. Signs were a security hazard.
He took the next turn, but apparently, his luck ran out. An arrow was pointed on his head. Dick hadn’t heard anything! This was so unfair, to wait in the corner and jump on people. Dick was a child and surprise element evened the odds!
Dick turned his attention to the man holding the bow onto his face.
Shock wasn’t what he had expected to see, but it was all he needed. He side stepped and the man released the arrow, sending it where Dick was standing a moment ago. It’d pierce his shoulder, probably. Dick lunged forward and caught the arm holding the bow, twisting it with a practiced motion before kicking the man’s knees, sending him head first to the wall.
Dick didn’t check if he was out or not, pushing himself to flee once more. After a little bit, he found himself at an opening with yellow gates. Boom Tubes, Dick guessed. Now all he had to do was hack one.
The one in the middle began to shine. Dick froze and held his breath. His hand reached out to the smoke bomb hidden in his belt.
Batman stepped out.
Dick let go of his breath. "Batman."
Batman's head snapped towards him.
He looked... shocked. As if Dick wasn’t what he expected to see. But if he didn’t expect Dick, why was he here? It didn’t make any sense.
“Robin,” Batman cleared his voice. The word seemed to physically strain him. He was tense. Dick didn’t give Batman a reason to be tense around him lately. No patrol injuries, no school incidents, no chandelier.
“Batman?” Dick questioned. What's wrong, he meant to say. It was a blessing both of them could read between lines. Or read toning, for Dick could recognise over twenty hums as commands. Batman wouldn’t answer to the question, though, when they both had to fill each other in to make sense of whatever this was.
“Robin, report.”
The group chasing him made through the corner, freezing at the sight of Batman. Dick steeled his shoulders, but Batman didn’t even twitch. If Batman wasn’t doing anything about them, he too wouldn’t.
“One: Martian Manhunter. John Jones. Detective. All my knowledge is coming from your files. Shapeshifting, invisibility, phasing. Superhuman in means of strength, speed, stamina, senses and such. Regeneration, flight, heat vision. Telepathy, mind manipulation and control. Telekinesis. Only known weakness is fire. You should let me carry a lighter, really. I don’t want to find out if grenades will do the trick.”
“Two, Green Lantern. Hal Jordan. Military pilot. He wills to construct. His constructions are as strong as his will. But he’s more inclined to think on his feet unless it’s an operation. This means he won’t be very creative with the ring and stick to basics like shields and fists when he’s startled. Because when a missile locks on you, you use your most trusted manoeuvre. You gotta keep him on his toes and make him doubt. Or steal the ring, but then stick to ranged because I know when I see a swing I don’t want to be at the receiving end.
“Three, Green Arrow. Current CEO of the Queen industries. Human. Bow is his main weapon. Stick close and aim for the arms. Better chance than facing with his shots unless the environment allows dodging.
“Four, Flash. Barry Allen. Forensic Scientist. Super speed is his main power. I don’t think your files are complete, what if he’s able to outrun time? Universe’s expansion? How do you even go against someone who can get to you before you can blink? Best bet is to stay hidden. He can’t fight something he doesn’t know. I think I was halfway through his file before whatever happened to get me here so I may be wrong, but you mentioned extreme temperatures.
“I get only two advantages. One, they were unaware of my presence. Two, they don’t want to hurt or scare me, thinking I’m just child and human, and they don’t know what I can take and what I can’t. Which is why I’m still alive and free, because if they went all out, I’d have no chance against experienced and enchanted individuals without some serious preparations and tools and luck.
“I still don’t know how I came here. While I knew you were going to introduce me to the League today, I have no memory of coming here. I was sitting in front of the computer at the cave just moments ago.”
Batman stared at him with an open mouth. What the fuck? The cowl was on, there shouldn’t be any room for emotions. Especially not for shock. And wasn’t this what Batman wanted? For Robin to think like Batman, be like Batman? Hadn’t Batman demanded this every time they faced someone new? They’d fight with the goons and sometimes one of them would be better than usual. When reached to the car, Batman would give him ten minutes to run a background check, then ask a report. Robin would tell and it would please Batman, though emotionally incapable man he was, he wouldn’t praise. But next day Bruce would wake up early just to see him off, and squeeze a little extra to his pocket so he could spend at the overpriced school canteen, before going back to sleep until noon because he had to catch up with his sleep before he went out to check WE.
“B?” Dick asked. “Batman to earth?”
Batman flinched. But before he could answer, boom tube beamed, and Dick’s head snapped towards it. A child wearing his colours and his costume came out. Dick should have realised. This “Batman” was out of character. This “Justice League” was out to catch him. There was a child in his colours.
“You are not my Batman,” he hissed, and before anyone could jump on him, he fled.