Winging Death

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Dick was not on the good side of health, so much so he didn't even notice as the door slid open and strong hands wrapped around him. He was carried out of the room and felt light burn his eyes, instinctively he closed them and felt sleep instantly take him.

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It had been a week and what should have been an easy case was still showing no leads. And it infuriated the Dark Knight immensely. Bruce was sat behind his computer again, ignoring the calls for help from Gordon as he searched through for what he was missing.

"Oracle, have you had any breakthroughs with the other suspects?" He asked.

"I'm going to have to give you the same reply I did an hour ago," She sighed, "No."

Bruce could tell she was getting frustrated as well, maybe more so than Bruce was. She had even gone so far as to say he had to tell the other heroes, let them help. Of course, she'd taken the public out of his hands, posting about the kidnapping of Richard Grayson. The reporters had instantly come down on the Wayne household and he could only imagine they were outside again this morning. That would be the only reason Damian was coming down anyway.

"Appearances matter, father," He said, "You are no closer to ending this case than you were last week. Show the reporters your worried face going to work."

Damian was well trained, better at holding back emotions than Bruce. But the Caped Crusader could see through the façade. See the worry on his face.

"I have informed mother of the situation as well," Damian continued, "I have been assured that they are searching for him high and low."

Bruce grunted in reply but his son didn't give up.

"Babs can continue the search," He explained, "And... I promised Alfred you'd come up for breakfast."

"You're persistent," Bruce commented as he swivelled round to face the boy, "Come on, I hope he's made eggs."

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Dick didn't know how long he'd been asleep but it wasn't long enough as pain woke him up. It quickly ran its course and Dick came to the conclusion it must have been some sort of injection. The first thing he did was try to move, but he found metal restraints on both wrists, ankles and one at the base of his neck, all holding him down to a metallic table which he could only assume to be an operating table. It was bright, flooded with white light and the reflective surfaces didn't help with the glare. And then his eyes focused on who he was in the room with, Batman to his right and Superman on his left.

"Good Morning, Grayson," Batman crooned, "I was getting worried you'd never wake back up."

"Yes, I had to give you a little something to help," Supes explained, "After all, we have a lot planned for you."

"But don't worry," Batman cut over him, "We made sure that it's all within your limit, can't have you dying on us."

"Why are you doing this?" Dick asked, some logical part of his brain trying to tell him this wasn't real, it was a set up, but right now the emotional side was stronger. The fear.

They didn't answer, instead turning to a tray next to him and picking something up. A sick smile split Batman's face as he turned back around with a scalpel.

"Superman, you might want to turn away," He said and the American icon did as Batman traced the scalpel lightly down Dick's face to his bare chest, and then started cutting.

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Jason was fuming. And the punching bag knew it as it split open for what must be the hundredth time in the past couple days. The search of Dick's personal 'Batcave' had proved fruitless, the only thing they'd been able to do was stop the bidding. No one knew who had set them up at the base, or if they did they were keeping it secret well.