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The labworker avoids her knee, stabbing the needle into her arm without much care for what it hits. Blood slowly fills up the syringe. Traci twists in her restraints and manages to at least kick him in the shin this time. Bearing her teeth when he sends her an annoyed glare.
Luther is still droning on in the background. That man has a thing for monologuing. Loves to hear himself talk.
Besides her, Virgil sneers at the woman taking his vitals. A truly impressive stream of insults leaving his lips without pause, and in multiple languages no less.
Beyond him, Robin is still dead to the world. Whatever drug they injected him with earlier was doing its work and he hadn’t made a move... Leaving their best chance of escaping out for the count.
Traci can physically sense Klarion all over her own shackles. Skin itching where the metal touches it. The constant leaching of her magic leaving her drained and nauseated.
Perhaps she can empty her stomach all over Lex’s designer shoes next time he ventures close. That would be satisfying.
“You already tried this, and failed miserably if I remember correctly.” Traci interrupts when she just can’t stand to listen to Lex's spiel a second longer. Luther gives her a look of pure disdain in return.
“The plan may have failed back then, but it was a useful test run. This time the plants will be successful.”
Virgil manages to headbutt the labworker when she checks his eyes. He must have broken her nose too, if the crunch is any indication. Blood drips down the front of her white labcoat and something about messing up the pristine fabric is extremely satisfying.
“Nice hit, 10 out of 10.” Traci shares a wicked smile with her teammate. She expects him to meet the expression with his own smirk, but Virgil’s eyes are all wrong. The desperation in them is only growing and his breathing is a little too fast for comfort. Each inhale stutters around the inhibitor collar like it’s choking him. Wrists red and raw as he keeps fighting the restraints to no avail.
Traci knows this situation brings back horrible memories. Knows his time with the Reach was hell. Frustration burns in her eyes because she can do nothing to help. Only try to distract him and pray rescue won’t be too late. It’s either that or a miracle.
They are both gonna need extra sessions with Dinah after this. Repressing fear doesn’t make it go away.
“Don’t know if the lack of head protection means the sun baked your brain,” Traci smirks at Luther. “Or if you really think we didn’t learn anything from your little ‘test run’.” Having her hands suspended over her head doesn’t stop Traci from doing quotation marks. Luther looks like he smelled something foul.
“What’s the saying about repeating things and insanity?” Traci tilts her head. “Not like your continued feud with Superman hasn’t proven your lack of brainpower a long time ago. His is bigger, you can stop measuring.”
Virgil splutters out a startled laugh beside her. Traci lets out her own snicker at the sight of Luther going completely red in the face. A scowl more murderous than anything he shows the public.
“At least Luther can recommend you a good plastic surgeon.” She shots towards the labworker, who is still trying to stop her nosebleed with a ward of gaze pressed to her face. The women only glare in return.
“We don’t need your tongue for the process,” Luther states dryly.
“Seems a bit redundant to remove it when you’re planning to clone another.” Traci rolls her eyes, ignoring how it nearly has her vomiting onto the floor. “If the copy isn’t insulting you with every chance she gets, nobody is going to buy it.”
“At least we would have some peace in the meantime.”
“Don’t you start Mr. monolog, you’ve been yapping non-stop since we got here. No wonder you need a skyscraper, your inflated ego takes up half the building.”
Luther looks about five seconds away from strangling her and Traci resolutely doesn’t consider things like consequences at the moment. At least Virgil is looking a lot calmer, one side of his mouth pulled into a smirk. Provoking the supervillain isn’t her smartest idea, but it’s an effective distraction. Proven by how half the staff around them is still looking between her and Luther like they are waiting for the next serve in a ping-pong match.
“Perhaps we sedated the wrong teen, nothing that can’t be ratified.” Luther’s tone is all tightly controlled rage and Traci can almost hear him counting to ten in his own head.
“How can a successful businessman be this easy to piss off?” Traci asks. “Do you stomp out of the meeting room like a toddler with a tantrum every time things don’t go your way? And people let you?
Self-preservation, who that? Getting snarky whenever she’s scared is going to get her killed one day, Traci just knows it.
She may have spent hours practicing in the mirror, but it’s all worth it when she can raise a single eyebrow at Luther and watch his patience snap. He huffs out a breath and charges towards her like an angry rhino. Albeit one with measured steps and a striped suit that cost more than most people’s mortgages.
Traci raises her chin and squares her shoulders. Tramples down the trembling before it’s visible. Virgil is cursing up a storm beside her, insulting Luther left and right to draw the fire his way, but it’s not working. Robin still appears to be in dreamland, you never know with him. He could have four plans going before anybody even notices he’s awake.
Traci hates how helpless she feels. Hates seeing her teammates struggling. She can’t escape, but she can knee Luther in the nuts and she is going to enjoy it immensely. Traci forces air past the tightness in her chest. Pushes aside the nausea, the pain of throbbing wrists and arching shoulders. Ignores how cold she feels. Lex’s face is going to be priceless. That’s all that matters at the moment.
Luther is almost to her when the sound of clapping shatters the tension. All heads snap towards the sound as someone materializes out of the shadow between two of the machines spread around the room.
“Nicely done, really lit a real fire under Lucy here.” The speaker’s amusement is clear even though the modulated voice of the red helmet covering his entire head. He leans a shoulder against a fancy-looking machine in deadly ease. Even with most of him still shrouded in shadow, he’s clearly broad and tall.
There’s something familiar about him too. Traci feels like she should recognize him. If she could just think past the relief that threatens to buckle her knees.
Luther turns towards the speaker with a caution to his movements that Traci’s never seen in the man before. Dusting imaginary filth off his sleeve
“Red Hood, what an unexpected surprise.”
“Can’t figure out how I got past your million-dollar security without you even knowing?” Hood taunts. “Must drive you up the fucking wall.”
“The system was due for an update anyway.” Luther brushes the mystery aside, like the vein near his ear isn’t visibly pulsing and has been since Traci opened her mouth. She exchanges a glance with Vigil, who looks just as confused. The guy doesn’t seem like their rescue committee. But this can’t be a coincidence, right?
Luther straightens his spine, analyzing the other man closely. “I fail to see what business a Gotham crime lord would have with Lexcorp, but perhaps scheduling a proper meeting would have been a better start to discussing it.”
Crime lord? Traci narrows her eyes at the helmeted man.
Hood snorts. “Knew you are a bunch of backstabbing lunatics, but how do you even function with that little communication?”
“I fail to see what you’re talking about.”
“Your little villain club. Narcissists of epic proportions. Plans of world domination. Gets foiled by teenagers on the regular.” Hood’s face is hidden, but she can just picture him smirking. “Ring any bells?”
Luther’s face is a carefully blank mask. His lack of answer is all the answer anyone needs. His workers are looking and whispering among themselves, because clearly, they have no clue what’s going on. Traci’s not sure of that herself.
“Someone should have given you a heads up. Forewarned is forearmed. Knowledge is power and all that.” Hood is still casually leaning against the metal casing. Relaxed. Like he has complete control over the situation and nothing to fear. Traci feels a shiver run down her spine.
She doesn’t know who this is. But she instantly knows he’s dangerous.
Hero work is making a lot of calls with little information and even less time. Judge right or suffer the consequences. What’s the best cause of action? How dangerous? Can you win or do you need to run?
And with that simple, subtle predatory relaxation, Traci just knows Hood can wipe the floor with her.
“And what should they have told me?” Luther is starting to look a little panicked. Traci has noticed at least three people pressing panic buttons. Nothing is happening.
“That I have rules.” The voice modulation only highlights the treat in Hood’s tone, “and what happens to people who break them.”
Luther takes a small step backwards “I-”
“ Ont .” Robin struggles to roll his head, so he can look at Hood. His voice still slurred “ ont ill m .”
“Kids and drugs.” Hood tsk’s and wacks a gloved finger at Luther. The room still feels primed to explode. Traci forces down a breath, not sure when she started holding it. Robin’s fighting against the drug, struggling to control his limbs. He’s not able to get his feet under him, and his weight hanging from the chains must kill his shoulders. His head lolls from side to side as he tries to lift it.
Voice slurred beyond comprehension, except Hood seems to understand it.
“Seeing you like that is not inclining me towards mercy, you know.” Hood finally straightens up. The blankness of the helmet only adds to the feeling of danger that seems to roll off him.
Tracy shivers with the instinctive recognition of a predator.
“Maybe we can come to an agreement that benefits us all.” Luther is shaken, but holding it together with an air of confidence. But his repeated glances at the door betrays his superior facade as nothing more than that, a facade. Traci barely keeps a lid on her own nerves before she starts blabbering.
“You think I can be bought?” Hood gives a snort of dark amusement. The tension grows impossibly thicker. Traci’s surprised nobody’s tried bolting yet, but they must be frozen for the same reason she has yet to move a muscle.
Only Robin continues to move around, muttering broken words. His movements getting more coordinated with each passing second. His rattling chains are unnaturally loud in the silence.
“Everybody wants something,” Luther muses. “It’s just a matter of finding out what it is.”
“I’ll make it easy then,” Traci pictures Hood’s face with the bared fangs of a wolf and finds it fitting. “Right now I want your head mounted on a stake.”
He looms a step closer. Casting light on a worn leather jacket and black body armor. A familiar symbol splayed across his chest in stark red.
Traci lets a breath of air out slowly. Her shoulders slump as some of the tension finally bleeds out of her sore muscles.
She is surprised to find Luther sharing her relief. Straightening both his tie and posture.
“A shame. A partnership could have been lucrative for all parties.”
Hood regards him for several seconds before mechanical laughter fills the room. It’s not a happy sound.
“You really don’t know me at all.”
“I know enough.” Luther gestures towards Hood’s chest.
Hood’s hands are still concealed by shadows. The helmet makes it next to impossible to tell where he’s looking. Traci still thinks it’s at Luther, can picture eyes trailing from the designer shoes up to the vein that’s finally calmed down.
“I can’t tell if it’s hybris or sheer stupidity that makes you think you’re any different to the lowlife of Gotham.”
“I can list several differences, intelligence, and quality of lawyers among them.” Luther is back to his arrogant self. “Multiple hero’s tried and failed to bring me down, even the great detective himself.”
“Your brain is going to look the same splattered across the floor.” Hood takes another step forward, showing guns strapped to his thighs. “A mess of red everywhere. Maybe a bone fragment or two. It’s going to stink, of blood and whatever is in your bowels and bladder at the moment.”
Traci bits her bottom lip. Tasting acid and fighting her convulsing stomach as shivers wreck her body. Flashes of hot and cold. No longer able to ignore the nausea as her body fights to expel her last meal. She doesn’t particularly want to see that sandwich again.
Luther’s turned a shade of pale that should require make-up.
“It’s going to be ugly, undignified, and exactly what you deserve. The world will be a better place for it.” Hood takes another step forward and this time it sends half the room stumbling back, people in lab coats trying to hide behind their equipment or blend into the wall.
“You’re a Bat!” Luther shouts with the air of the desperate grasping at straws. Traci once again thinks of wolves when Hood stalks forward. There’s a certain predatory grace in every movement.
“Haven’t you heard?” She can hear the smirk. “I’m the Bat that kills.”
Luther bolts.
Traci flinches. Ears ringing with the gunshot. Luther’s screaming nearly drowning it out. She can’t look at his knee, or rather, what remains of it. Her whole body is weirdly numb. Eyes fixed on the floor. Red on white in stark contrast.
There are other people screaming. Scrambling for cover. Struggling with doors that refuse to open.
And despite the chaos, Hood’s steps are still the loudest sound in the room.
Her wrists sting. Her shoulders are protesting, aching, and sore after being in an uncomfortable position for so long. Traci is going to throw up. A stab of pain when she puts too much weight on the ankle she twisted earlier. Her mouth is dry, when did she last drink something? Traci is going to-
“Don’t.”
A familiar voice cuts through the noise, demands to be obeyed.
Attention snapping to Robin. He’s still swaying on his feet, weight more on the chains than anything else. Head held high. The white lenses of his mask focused on Hood.
The screaming dies down to quiet sobbing.
Hood stops his advance and turns his body towards Robin with a lazy salute. “How you feeling, Replacement?”
“In no mood to deal with any of this.” Robin snaps out.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the cape.”
Robin’s middle finger relinquishes its hold on the shackles for a second. “My head is already killing me and if you fire off another shot I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
“I would say do your worst, but I’m not that stupid.” Hood’s entire posture has changed. Gone is the aura of violence and bloodthirst, and now he could be any member of their team. Bantering in the middle of a mission for the fun of it.
Traci glances at Virgil, who looks more confused than she feels and just as exhausted.
“Are you here for more than vengeance? Cause I would like to be let down before I die of old age.”
“So dramatic.” Hood looks briefly towards the ceiling, “pick the lock yourself if you’re so impatient.”
“Won’t have enough fine motor skills for another twenty minutes and I refuse to wait that long.”
“So fucking bossy.” Hood holsters the gun and walks toward Robin without a single glance at the sniffling Luther. Everybody else has found hiding spots of varying quality at this point.
He makes quick work of the lock and catches Robin as the younger boy’s weight is released. Gently lowering him to the floor, with more care than she would have thought Hood capable of just a few minutes prior. Even ruffling Robin’s hair to grumbled protests as he straightens back up.
“Who are you?” Traci blurts out as Hood turns his attention towards her. He has to be a Bat, his interactions with Robin proof enough to her. But she’s never heard of him before and everybody’s heard of Batman’s no-kill rule.
“I’m the Bats dirty little secre- hey!”
“No, you’re not.” Robin kicks at his ankle again. “You just like to be all dark and edgy instead of coming to the base and socializing like a normal person.”
“You wear tights and a cape.”
“Like you have a leg to stand one.”
“This one right here.” Hood gestures up and down his right leg, wrapped in dark cargo pants. “Besides I socialize.”
Robin snorts “with who? Mention someone who’s not Arsenal or associated with Gotham.”
“Who needs more than that with the ever-growing menagerie at home? Just stopping by for Sunday dinner is enough for an overload.”
“Yet you have the best track record for making it there.”
“Free food babybird, free Agent A made food.”
Robin shrugs. “Fair enough.”
“That doesn't really answer the question.” Virgil is looking between the two of them. It’s a similar expression to when Jamie’s street lost power and the team spent their hangout night solving old puzzles.
“Doesn’t it?” Hood indicates the lock and waits for her to nod before moving closer. Traci nearly sobs when the shackles finally fall away, kicking them for good measure. Her magic resettles like a warm blanket over her shoulders.
Hood keeps a steadying hand on her arm for a moment, but Traci can stand on her own. She just has to keep the majority of the weight on her left side. Right ankle still throbbing painfully whenever she pays it any attention.
Her shoulders and upper back will be sore for days, if not over a week. There are rings of bruises around her wrists, but at least the skin is not broken. She can’t say the same for Virgil.
His sleeves absorbed and hid most of the blood, but his injuries are painfully obvious as Hood removes the chains. Virgil winces at each movement and Traci pulls a grimace in sympathy.
Hood swiftly removes the collar, before surprising her yet again when he pulls a roll of gauze out of one jacket pocket and sanitizer from another. He once again waits for Virgil to nod his consent before taking care of the injuries. The confidence and effectiveness of his movements remind her of Nightwing and Batgirl.
Luther is groaning in pain somewhere in the background, still lying where he fell. His hands and suit are smeared in blood. Traci quickly looks away.
She swallows and licks her chipped lips, focusing on the steady motions of Hood’s hands. Confident yet careful. Virgil still winces and Traci can’t help but rub at the abused skin around her own wrists in sympathy.
“How did you find us?” The ambush happened at the end of an unrelated mission, local emp frying their communications, trackers, and a good deal of Robin’s gear. Luther’s goons and pet meta’s attacked as they were about to leave and the following fight was embarrassingly short.
Hood doesn’t look away from his task. “Everybody is out looking, my methods just happened to be the fastest- Don’t look at me like that.” He finishes with Virgil’s wrists and reaches over to flick Robin on the nose, causing his face to scowl up even more.
“B will have an aneurysm if you left a trail of bodies behind in your wake.”
“They’ll live.” Hood finishes the medical care. He’s still wearing the helmet, but his gaze seems to sweep over them all. When he offers Traci a water pouch, she accepts it gratefully. She takes petty joy in spitting the first mouthful back out on Luther’s pristine white floor. Or not so pristine anymore.
Luther’s whimpering is still a constant background noise, together with the frightened whispers of his employees. Pale faces poking out to take a look and covering back into hiding every few seconds. The pool of blood around Lex’s knee is slowly growing, his pants soaked in it.
Traci passes the water to Vigil, rolling her shoulders with a wince. Her veins again pulsing with the familiar hum of magic. Warm and safe as it chases away the nausea, the cold clinging to her bones.
“Did you call Wing?” Robin lets Hood pull him back to his feet, leaning into the other’s side as Hood supports him with an arm around his waist. Hood’s free hand is smoothing back his hair in an absentminded gesture.
Traci hides a smile when Robin instinctively leans into the gesture like a cuddly kitten.
“Told him I would get you, didn’t wait for an answer.”
Robin appears to be rolling his eyes behind the mask. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Probably.” Hood shrugs the shoulder not supporting Robin. “But you got drugged and kidnapped, I have a week before he even considers letting you out of his sight, so prepare for the teddy bear treatment.”
Robin’s curses trail off into a whine, soon drowned out by modulated laughter. Traci exchanges a gaze with Virgil and finds him smiling too. Nothing can draw the human side out of the Bats like another member of their secretive clan.
“Just be grateful I’m not bridal carrying you out of here with both your teammates and the bad guys watching.”
Robin slaps at his chest. “Don’t you dare.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Hood,” Robin whines the name before his eyes narrow. “I will tell the brat who put dye in his shampoo.”
Hood thoroughly ruffles his hair, leaving black locks sticking out in every which way and completely ignoring how it makes Robin pout. “Then I rattle out who helped Spoiler put a purple glitter bomb in the changing room, and we both have to watch out for a tiny assassin on a mission for vengeance.”
“That was for Nightwing and you know it.”
“Won’t matter to the demon.” Even with the modulator, Hood’s voice betrays the self-satisfied smirk Traci’s sure is plastered across his face under the helmet. Attempting to keep track of the Bat’s shenanigans is something all seasoned heroes advise against, trying will just drive you mad and Traci is starting to understand why.
A lab worker, the same man that took her blood, has slowly edged his way to Lex, trying to bandage up his mangled leg with shaking hands. Both Bats track his movement out of the corner of their eyes the entire time.
A few sparks light up between Virgil’s fingers. Traci sends a little magic out through her body, giving its natural healing a boost. Another spell has her right pant leg twisting, fabric wrapping around her ankle, morphing into a makeshift brace.
“Neat trick.” Hood gives her a nod, before turning his attention back to Robin. “Drugs wearing off fast enough or do you need a piggyback ride?”
“Is that a choice?”
“Nope.”
Robin sighs. He keeps grumbling, but climbs on Hood’s back when he crouches down. Wrapping his legs and arms around the other, chin propped up on his shoulder. Traci notices Robin’s whole body relaxing as Hood hooks his hands under the younger’s thighs.
“You two good?”
“Yeah,” Virgil says and Traci tests her brace before echoing Virgil's confirmation. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
But Hood doesn’t head for an exit, confident strides bringing him back towards Luther. The predatory grace is back, and even with Robin clinging to his back like an overgrown koala Hood still manages to look menacing.
The lab worker scrambles back as Hood nears. Luther’s gone even paler, Traci’s not sure he’s even breathing as Hood looms over him. She finds Virgil's hand, staying back. The whole room’s gone deadly silent.
“You have one year to the date. 365 days to take apart the Light, each and every member neutralized one way or another, or I will be coming back for your head.” Hood’s mechanical voice is almost dripping bloodlust. “It won’t be a quick death.”
Traci once again thinks of bared fangs. Predators and prey. Toying with your victim because you can afford to. Hood is looming over Lex, his whole body projecting vicious intent. The promise in his voice sends shivers down her back.
Lex’s gone eerily still, face drained of blood. Eyes wide enough that Traci can see the fear in them and picture the frantic thoughts hidden behind the blue color.
“And if you think getting rid of me will be easier,” Hood readjusts his grip on Robin as he shrugs. “Then, take your best shot, but don’t miss. Next time there won’t be a little bird to give you mercy and I can be extremely creative.”
The room feels colder. Traci can’t stop shivering, clinging to her teammate’s warm hand. She has never been happier that someone is on her side. The fact that all Robin does is snuggle closer only increases her fear.
Lex’s goes limp, either from fear or blood loss. The sound of his body collapsing the rest of the way to the floor seems louder than it should be. Faint whimpering coming from around the room as Hood looks up and surveys it.
“You lot get one chance. One.” The modulator only highlights the dark promise in his voice. “Everyone here is dead if I ever see them again, so don’t give me a reason to come looking.”
Hood keeps staring down the room at large, head moving between hiding places like he knows where every single person is trying to conceal themselves. He’s a Bat, it’s not impossible that he does.
“Want to go home now,” Robin taps the helmet between the eyes, speaking low enough that only the three of them can hear him. “I need coffee.”
“Keep your pointy fingers to yourself if you don’t want me to drop you.” Hood shakes him for emphasis. “And the little addict has to wait for his fix, it’s the price of worrying everybody.”
Robin whines. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Don’t care.”
“Don’t be mean you big meanie.” Robin taps the helmet again, but Hood is too busy laughing to curse him out for it.
“Seems the drugs are still working, we need to get a camera before you're back to normal.” Hood looks back at Traci and Virgil and tilts his head towards a side door, snickering about adrenaline crashes as he moves toward it.
“I will blackmail you right back,” Robin grumbles, slumping into the other's back and burying his head in Hood’s shoulder.
“Sure you will, baby bird.”
“All the blackmail.” Robin’s slurred words are further muffled by the leather jacket.
“Is he going to be okay?” Virgil asks, gaze trailing over Robin's sluggish form, arms just hanging down Hood’s chest instead of holding on.
“Nothing to worry about, the lack of sleep just caught up to him.” Hood tightens his grip, hoisting Robin up a bit to better take his weight. “The little menace will be fine after a nice long nap and right back to his annoying self.”
“You say he’s annoying, and yet you came all this way for him,” Traci teases.
Hood glances back at them. “Always.”
Traci looks over at her other teammate, sharing a smile with him. Tension bleeding out of her body with each step closer to freedom. They might not be fully out of the metaphorical woods yet, but she trusts Hood to get them there.