Chapter Text
Damian wanders through the mall, Jon pulling him along behind him. Everyone turns to stare, which is unsurprising given the fact that they’re in costume, but Jon had insisted on ice cream after work. Damian called him childish, but didn’t fight. Work is getting out, so the mall is packed.
“It’s Robin and Superboy,” one person whispers, staring right at them.
Damian resists the urge to roll his eyes. Then a flicker of light in the corner of his vision has him stopping. But it’s gone just as fast. Jon pulls on his wrist harder, already whining, though Damian isn’t listening. He’s scanning the crowd around them, trying to figure out why the warning bells in his head are screaming. Then it flashes again, and Damian realizes what caught his eye.
“Bomb!” he yells, pulling out of Jon’s grasp. His wrist makes a harsh pop as he does, but he doesn’t slow down, or bat an eye. “Evacuate them!” he says as Jon runs up behind him.
Jon disappears as he zips away. Damian crawls under the table to the bomb that’s screen caught the dying light outside. The timer is ticking down already with less than a minute left. Damian grabs the sharpest knife he has, slipping it out of his boot. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the man not evacuating with everyone else. He’s moving closer, but Damian is too focused on his hands, and making sure they don’t all die to care what’s going on around him. Jonathan continues herding people towards the exits, trying to keep everyone moving in an orderly fashion. Not that it will help if Damian doesn’t do anything, they’re not fast enough to get away.
Right as it hits five seconds, he slices through the last wire he needs to, and the display stops. He stands, but a needle stabs into his arm before he can turn. His vision goes in and out as he turns, a blurry white blob behind him. Then he’s falling, and he can barely hear Jonathan shouting his name as he passes out.
He wakes up slowly, his head pounding. Voices filter in through the roaring in his ears, arguing from the sound of it.
“Leave him alone!” Jon’s voice gets through everything else, pulling Damian to consciousness faster.
He pulls his heavy eyes open, blinking heavily. Two figures come into view. One is Jon, attached to a chair with thick restraints. Damian can’t tell what they’re made out of from here, but he can assume. The other is a man in a white face mask. Damian is restrained to a table, tilted at an angle.
“Tell me how to get his mask off,” the man demands, turning to Jon.
Jon locks eyes with Damian, his eyes going wide. Damian winces as pain flares in his abdomen. It’s clear that the torture started before he woke up. Blood bubbles up his throat, and he quietly spits to the side. He glances down, wincing at his shredded costume.
“Ah, Robin, you’re awake. Good timing.” The man walks to the edge of the room, coming back with a camera. “We’re going to stream this, the identity reveal of the most violent Robin.”
Damian snorts, coughing blood to the side.
“Robin,” Jon says, his voice tight with concern.
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t be when I’m done with you,” the man says, turning the camera on.
“Here we have Robin and Superboy, and you all get to watch as I find out their identities. We’ll start with Robin.”
He approaches Damian, holding a knife up for Damian to see. Then he runs it down Damian’s exposed chest, a deep red laceration forming as he does. He does that a few more times, hands shaking a little more each time Damian ignores him, and doesn’t even wince.
“Well, unsurprisingly, Robin’s… difficult. I guess we’ll try a different tactic then.”
He pulls a rolling table from somewhere behind Damian. It’s covered in tools, but he picks up a syringe. He injects it into Damian’s arm before turning back to Jon.
“This will make him more lucid, meaning his pain tolerance training won’t help. He’ll feel it all as harshly as possible. Now tell me how to get his mask off.”
Damian has to force himself not to laugh again. Jon doesn’t know how to get his mask off, that would be a security risk if he did.
“I don’t know. He has something that keeps it on,” Jon replies, his fists clenched.
Damian can feel himself getting a little foggy, though it’s not too bad yet. It probably won’t have the effect that man wanted since Damian has a tolerance to most drugs. He doesn’t say that, turning his attention back to Jon.
“Fine, we’ll keep going until you feel like being more honest,” the man says, picking up a wrench.
He grabs Damian’s right hand, twisting it until he can get the wrench around two of his fingers. Then he slams his other hand down on the wrench, snapping Damian’s fingers with the force. Damian grunts, his nose scrunching up involuntarily.
Oh Mother would be so disappointed in me.
The man holds the wrench up, watching Jon’s face carefully.
“Alright, I can keep going,” he says when Jon maintains his angry and determined look.
He slams the wrench down onto Damian’s wrist, another crack ringing through the air. Damian lets his eyes flutter closed for just a second as the man slams the wrench down four more times, attempting to turn Damian’s wrist to dust. Blood drips down his torso, and his hand and wrist throb, pain radiating up through his whole arm.
“Superboy?”
“Stop,” Jon says, tears pricking his eyes. He locks eyes with Damian, who narrows his eyes.
“You want me to stop? All you have to do is tell me his name.”
“I can’t,” Jon says, choking on the words.
“Fine, then we’ll keep going.”
He forces Damian’s mouth open, jamming his fingers between his teeth as he grabs a pair of pliers with the other hand. Damian bites down as hard as he can, making the man curse. He backhands Damian before slamming the pliers into Damian’s teeth. He rips one out, making Jon scream. Damian’s mouth starts filling up with blood, mingling with the blood coming up his throat.
“Just stop!” Jon screams, tears streaming down his face.
“HIS NAME!”
Something slams in the distance, and Damian can’t see them yet, but he knows his family is here. Hears the soft thud of Red’s boots, and Hood’s angry growl. The man in on the floor in a second, Batman slamming a gloved fist into his face. Damian has to stop himself from laughing, blood dripping down his face. Red turns the camera off as Nightwing races to Damian’s side.
“It’s ok, Baby Bat. We’re gonna get you out of here,” he whispers, working on the restraints. “Hood’s dealing with the others,” he assures him.
Red pulls Jon out of the restraints, swiftly picking him up before he can fall. It’s clear that the restraints were starting to make him sick.
“We gotta go, B,” Red says as Batman approaches Damian.
He runs a gentle hand down Damian’s face, anger set into all of his features. Damian isn’t worried though, he knows he’s safe with his family. So he lets himself start to drift as Dick picks him up.