Work Text:
Typically they do their best not to have everyone at an event at once. There are two trains of thought to it. The first, chaos is a ladder, and their all dirty enablers. The second, if somebody were to attack the event, it was a lot easier to call in one of the Bats if they weren't all also trapped. Sure Bruce and Dick - and by extension, later Jason and Tim - learned to make due, but if they have the resources, why not utilize them?
They were all attending for some reason or another. Initially, Stephanie was going to take care of patrolling Gotham. That was the plan until she broke two ribs the night before and was put on strict bed rest by Alfred. It left the Birds of Prey on call, but the streets empty for the night.
Dick took refuge near the open windows, enjoying the slight breeze. Jason was almost directly across the room. They took turns muttering into their drinks over the unauthorized commlink they snagged from the cave. Jason was a master of talking shit about the other guests while somehow keeping a straight face.
Cass and Damian claimed a table near the kitchen door, intercepting each new food tray for first pickings before it circled the rest of the room. Bruce was full Brucie, holding court at the bar. Tim mentioned something about handling business before the night even began and has been speaking to the same group for the last hour.
A small beep interrupted Jason’s impression of Mrs. Emmer’s poor, tiny dog that she insisted be allowed to attend every event. “Sorry to interrupt, but we might have a situation,” Barbara said, sounding more amused than apologetic. “Surprise, surprise, like Mr. Carter’s nose, it seems the security team isn’t as legit as advertised.”
“Fuck,” Jason hissed under his breath, “Have you been listening to this entire time?”
“Just me and Bruce,” Babs said, practically laughing in their ear.
Dick groaned, then mimed out stubbing his toe when a few other guests turned to him with questioning looks. “We're in so much trouble.” He turned just in time to see Bruce’s glance from across the room, a clear indication he was still listening.
“Focus,” Barbara attempted to redirect the situation.
“Why?” Jason gave a half shrug that Dick could make out even across the distance. “It’s the typical Tuesday/Thursday Gala. Monday’s and Friday’s are usually catering or cleaning staff. Tuesday and Thursday are security. The weekends and Wednesdays - for some reason - are straight-up brute force. And what day is it Dickie?”
“Tuesday.”
“Yes, Tuesday.”
Jason was interrupted by the sound of Bruce clearing his throat before the line cut again. Dick snorted into his drink, coughing aggressively when he inhaled, and the champagne hit his lungs. A pair of women scurried over, fluttering around in concern. It took a few moments to catch his breath and a few minutes to reassure them he was okay.
“Smooth,” Jason commented when they finally left.
Dick rolled his eyes, “Babs, can you connect us to their comms? Get us an idea of what they're doing?”
“On it, Boy Blunder.”
There was a small patch of static when the first voice broke through, deep and rough like the man was recently gargling gravel. “-oing to be a big score.”
“Spoke to Kline,” A second voice, high and nasally in comparison. “Say’s they haven’t seen any signs of the Bats.”
“Could be good or-or bad?” A third voice, nervous and accented lightly in something eastern European.
“Shut up.” Voice one snarled. “Don’t fucking jinks it. I have a good feeling about tonight, okay? The bats aren’t around, the cops have no idea, and we're the security. These rich shits will be pissin' themselves when we pull the guns.”
“Wayne even brought the full pack. He’ll hand over a couple million for each kid. We could be living high off just him alone.” Voice two said. “Think of what -”
“All of his kids?” Voice one interrupted. “Even the pretty boy, Richie?”
Bruce, Jason, and Dick all tensed at the mention of Dick specifically.
“What got you all excited?” Voice two asked. He was voicing what they were all thinking and what Dick was dreading.
“Have you fucking seen'em? His ass was made to be fucked. I bet the bitch would beg for -.”
“Isn’t he a cop?” Voice three interrupted.
"You're telling me the pretty boy is a fucking pig?" Voice One sounded even more delighted. "Even better, I'm going to gag that fucker on my co-" the line cut. The silence burned in Dick's ears.
Across the room, Jason flushed with anger; even at a distance, Dick could see the pit bubbling under his skin. Cass and Damian caught on, cutting through the crowd towards their enraged brother, both confused and concerned. Dick was thankful Babs hadn't signaled them into the feed, he wished Jason and Bruce hadn’t heard it either, but he'll take what he can get.
Bruce, for his part, was grabbing Tim. His Brucie smile was missing. Instead, he had his tight frown and dark eyes that parted the crowd without question.
Dick pulled out his phone, pretending to take a call. An excuse to talk to Babs without sounding crazy. He didn't hit the call, not risking the chance they were monitoring transmissions. There was a small beep in his ear signaling a connection returning, meaning Babs was watching.
"Hey, need-"
"Already on it, head to the hall on your right - end of the hall to the left is a bathroom. Once inside, pick the lock on the opposite door. It opens to an office. Its other access point is blocked by a table on the outer side, meaning unlikely anyone will enter." Dick nodded along, following instructions. He could feel eyes following him, some good and some not. "The door opened inwards," Babs continued, "not the brightest security, but enough to keep the average citizen away and still give you all an exit. The others are following, by the way. I've already looped the security feed in the hallway, and I've set off a minor disturbance on the other side of the hall to draw the attention of the guys watching you."
"So I wasn't imagining that," Dick muttered, slipping into the hallway. Across the ballroom, there was a crash followed by a woman's cry of outrage.
"Sorry, Boy Wonder." It was a little quieter and significantly more sincere than her usual sass. He could hear the unsaid, "I'm sorry for not cutting the feed sooner."
He hummed, waving the apology away because how could she have known. He slipped into the bathroom, pulling his wallet, which contained his hidden lockpick set. Dick went to work.
"Bruce and Tim," Barbara announced. A sharp knock punctuated the statement at the door.
"Occupied," Dick called over his shoulder, just in time for the lock he was working to click open.
Babs snorted in his ear.
The bathroom door opened, showing Bruce and Tim crowded in the doorway, and over their shoulder, Dick could see Jason. Jason’s arrival meant Cass and Damian had also caught up.
“Welcome,” Dick pushed himself to his feet, leading the way with a bright smile. It was fake, and none of them believed it. If anything, it put everyone even more on edge. Bruce took up the rear, locking the bathroom door behind them.
The office was elegant, made of dark wood, and accented in a deep green and gold.
“We have a situation,” Bruce announced, leaning heavily against the desk.
Jason took to pacing along the wall. Damian, Cass, and Dick all took the couch.
“Let me guess,” Tim pretended to think, dropping onto the armchair, “It’s Tuesday, so must be corrupt security?” He flashed a playful smirk while pulling the emergency comm unit from the lining of his suit. Cass and Damian moved to do the same.
Bruce conceded with a slight nod, surprising Tim, Cass, and Damian when he didn’t make his usual exasperated Bruce face; It was expected when they made jokes like those.
Tim looked closer to the tight lines around Bruce’s eyes and the clench of his jaw. His gaze darted to the ever-pacing Jason, then over to Dick, who was avoiding everyone else's gaze. “Did something happen?” He asked.
Jason snarled out a “yes” at the same time Dick darted to his feet with a firm “no.” They glared at each other for a long moment before Bruce broke it up. “It's irrelevant -” Bruce began.
“Bullshit,” Jason interrupted.
Bruce sent him a dark look, “It is irrelevant,” he said again with a little more force, “Dick, Cass, and Damian can slip out the back. There is a stash a block over to change. Tim, Jason, and I will stay here and play captive.”
Something else was going on, something unsaid under the surface, not that anyone was doing a good job of pretending.
Jason squared up to Bruce, “Why can’t I go with Dickie and Cass? Leave Demon Brat here to play hostage. Better yet, all four of us will go.”
They could see Bruce working his jaw, clenching and unclenching before speaking. “You will stay, as Jason Todd-Wayne. The others will go, and that is final.”
“Why’s that? Don’t trust-”
While they were arguing, Tim pressed the commlink to Oracle, “Babs, requesting access to their comms, I can mon-”
Four voices, including Barbara herself, cut him off with a resounding, “No.”
Dick sighed at the look of shock on his younger siblings' faces. He ran a hand over his face, "Fine," he said before the others could ask, “One of the guys made an inappropriate comment towards me. Now it’s just a little more personal.”
“He was the leader,” Babs jumped in, “The guy, Jackson Pass, head of security for the event. Everything I found leads back to him. And it was more than just an inappropriate comment.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dick shrugged, “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“Excuse me?” Jason cried, “What the fuck does that mean?” From his spot at the desk, Bruce paled.
Dick rolled his eyes, very much over the conversation. “Now isn’t the time,” Ideally, never would be the time, but Dick knew better than to say it out loud. “If anything, we can use it to our advantage. I’ll stay, the rest of you can go. I can distract them long enough for you guys to go, change and come back and save the day.”
As expected, no one loved the idea; Bruce and Jason were very against it. Damian took their side, stating Dick didn’t deserve to sacrifice himself when others were volunteering. Tim and Cass hesitated to take any side, both leaning heavily towards the first plan.
In the end, their arguing becomes a moot point when Babs interrupted to announce the security team was on the move. She narrated as Jackson Pass took to the stage, signaling for music to pause. She patched through the audio just in time for him to request Richard Grayson to come to the stage.
The others disappeared out the window, and Dick slipped back through the bathroom, down the hall, and into the back of the ballroom. He pretended not to know what was happening, pretended he doesn’t feel the eyes follow him around the room. A guard caught him before Dick could make it too far into the crowd, gripping his elbow with enough force to leave a mark. The crowd parted for them, clearing a path to the stage.
It wasn’t hard to figure out which one was Pass. The man eyed Dick like a piece of meat with a crazed look in his eye. Dick suppressed a shudder; instead, he pretended to be the part of the innocent and confused party guest.
“What’s going on?” He demanded, giving a half-hearted attempt to shake off the man holding him hostage.
Pass smirked, eyes, never leaving Dick, but speaking directly into the mic, “This Mr. Grayson is a stickup.” The man licked his lips and eyes trailing down Dick’s body. “Johnny, stay out here and make sure everything runs smooth. Rust, follow me and make sure you bring the Pretty Boy.”
One of the men on stage stood forward while Pass led Dick and his escort through a door behind the scene. In his ear, Dick could hear Babs giving the others a play-by-play of the situation.
"Tie his hands," Pass yelled, holding the door open long enough for the other two to enter and locking it behind them.
There was a clinking sound from the man at Dick's side, and with a sinking feeling, he realized he was going to use his belt. Dick struggled again, this time the panic in his voice just a little more real. He gets a backhand to the face that throws him to his knees.
His escort follows him, using the momentum to tie his hands tight at Dick's back. His call of "Done" confirmed he was voice number two from earlier. Dick was pretty confident that man number three was voice number three.
"Didn't I tell you, boy's?" Pass stood over Dick, forcing him to tilt his head back unnaturally to maintain eye contact. Dick ignored the man's body, head pressed too close, how it fueled his disgust and anger.
In his ear, Babs announced, "Bat eta in ten."
"Look at these fucking lips," the man cupped Dick's jaw, "made to be wrapped around a cock."
"Fuck you." Dick spat.
The men laughed, "Other way around, sweetheart." Voice two called.
"You're going to be fun to break," Pass continued when he finally caught his breath. He squeezed at Dick's jaw, forcing it open; with the other hand, he shoved three fingers into his mouth. "Look at this bitch. You're going to be a handful, I can tell. Mouthy and loud, going to have to gag you. You know the trick?" Pass dropped it from three fingers to one and loosened his grip enough to allow Dick control over his jaw again. "The trick is giving them something to suck on." There is a long pause where no one moves. Pass pulled a gun and pressed it to Dick's forehead, "Suck."
The next few seconds were chaos. An explosion, advised after the fact as a distraction placed by Jason, could be heard in the distance. It was followed by cries over the security radio of bats. Dick took this as his best opportunity to escape and did the first thing he could think of, and he bit down.
Fun fact number one: despite popular myth, you can NOT bite off someone’s finger, let alone it being as easy as taking a bite of a carrot. Fun fact number two: it will still hurt regardless of the finger stays attached to the body or not.
Dick, with a growing feeling of dread in his stomach, realized they might have underestimated the crazy level of the gang leader. From his ear Babs was urging the others to hurry up, the responses turning to static when the man pulled a knife from the holster on his ankle.
Fun fact number three: a knife CAN cut off your finger if you have enough of either or a combination of the following, a sharp enough blade, and/or enough determination.
Pass smiled down at his own left pointer finger laying on the floor, pausing for a moment to do a half-ass job of wrapping a scarf around his bleeding hand. He scooped the finger up, smiling wide and crazy in a way that had even the two men on his side flinching back. “Someone get me the duct tape.” He demanded, “If the pretty boy wants my finger so bad, he can have it.”
Barbara went from a five to an eleven on the urgency scale shortly after their return. She demanded they get the tape off of his face before they even got past the door. Pass and the two other men in the room went down quickly. It was Cass who got to Dick first, crumpled on the floor, duct tape looped around his head, barely leaving his nose free to breathe.
Cass originally started careful picking for an end when Babs desperate plea to just rip it off won Jason over. He pushed the other woman out of the way, and he used a knife to cut the tape, slicing carefully but quickly at the back and using Dicks hair as a buffer. He tore the tape away, and with absolute horror, they realized the first thing out of his brother's mouth was a severed finger.
It was followed by a lot of vomit and Dick passing out.