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three minutes down but who's counting

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There's no crackle in her ear. Either the comms are out or Proxy's not there. It doesn't actually matter much which because in two minutes Stephanie Brown is going to get fed to a wood chipper and it won't matter whether someone's talking in her ear. She's pretty sure it's going to hurt either way.

She chances a look down.

Yeah, it's going to hurt. Her wrists already do from having determined there genuinely is no way to loosen the bonds, and her ankles hurt similarly. Also her head. She suspects that's due to having been bashed with something really heavy and hard.

"I thought death traps were outdated!" she yells, and then grins as she finds the one thing they didn't.

"It does seem a bit silly," one of the henchmen says dubiously.

"The boss wants it to be a show," another guy says, and is that a - oh for heaven's sake is the video camera absolutely necessary?

"Right, go ahead, film your upcoming humiliation," Stephanie says.

"You can't do anything to us," one of them says, and she makes a point of sighing heavily.

"Not me, dumbass," she says. "You didn't find my last tracking beacon. And guess who it's calling right now?" There's a dawning look of horror in their eye's. Damn it, how come no one ever gets that look for her? Cass gets it all the time.

"Vengeance," Grayson says, looming up out of the dark.

She's still laughing when the expertly thrown batarang lands her on the now-switched-off wood chipper. Four seconds later and she's swinging a bookshelf on some guy's head. It's all a bit of a blur after that, really, and then she's sitting in the batmobile, costume piled on her lap.

"Alfred will get you patched up in no time," Grayson assures her, and she nods.

"Mmhmm," she says. "Thanks for coming. Nice of you to drop in on the party."

"Sorry it took me so long, I lost my invitation in the mail."

"You can take the boy out of the Robin," she says with a grin.

"You quip just as much as me, don't talk," he says.

"I do it with style, it's true," Stephanie says, and her grin turns into a yawn.

"Good work out there," he says. "I'm sorry the intel was bad." She waves her hand.

"Eh, what's twenty extra guys when you're already expecting ten?" she says.

"A concussion and death trap?" he says.

"Laugh while you still can, Batman," she says. "Are you sure I can't drive?"

"Positive," he says firmly.

"Tomorrow?"

"When your concussion is gone, maybe."

"Finally."