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The gap between the last thing he remembered and the first thing he saw was cut clean from Dick’s memory. It was a burning hot slash ripped through the back of his head where his skull met his neck. The ache was still there, dull and throbbing, by the time his eyes opened to a dark so thick he had to squeeze his eyes shut again to be sure he’d opened them at all.
The last thing Dick remembered was the light pulsating from the Atlantean glyph on Kaldur’ahm’s belt as he called an SOS. A beacon that sent their immediate location to the Justice League with an alert that the Team was in danger, only to be used when they were about to be captured or taken down with no alternative escape. From the time that beacon went off, they had about a half hour before reinforcements would arrive.
They’d been overwhelmed an hour after arriving at their drop off location for a covert mission meant to gain intel on the prison breaks at Belle Reve Penitentiary over the past two years. They were to infiltrate a penthouse in St. Roch, a city about a half hour away from Bell Reve, where the current Warden, Doctor Hugo Strange, resided. He’d been under quiet suspicion for some time now, but a recent and too convenient disruption in the Prison’s logs finally gave a good enough justification for the investigation.
In all, the mission had seemed to be going off without a hitch. They found the information they needed; payments from accounts connected to one of Vandal Savage’s discarded aliases, communications with Sportsmaster, and a hard drive of deleted security camera footage from the prison. It was an incredible stash of evidence, and by the time Dick voiced to the Team this it was just a little too good, the room had detonated, a deafening bang and a flood of smoke rocking them all to their feet. It was a coordinated affair. As the room filled with a thick, noxious gas, Artemis, Wally, and Zatanna collapsed, unconscious before they hit the ground. Raquel, who’d thrown up a barrier around herself, only served to trap herself in with the gas, and was out only seconds after. The only reason Dick managed to fight off the inevitable for as long as he did was a learned reflex to hold his breath on the sight of any such gas, and a quick hand reaching to his belt for a compact gas mask he managed to fit over his nose. That left only the non-human members of the Team to fight back. The fire from the blast had Kaldur and M’gann on the ground not long after the rest of the team, and a dart with enough tranquilizer to kill an elephant had been shot into Conner’s chest from the dark. Dick, head dizzy from the small amount of gas he’d breathed in, tried to scramble forward, to get a spare gas mask to the closest member, but hadn’t made it more than a foot before something struck the back of his head. Through the smoke, moments before he succumbed, he saw the light flashing from Kaldur’s direction, the Atlantean’s trembling hand falling from his belt, and knew that help would be on its way.
How long ago exactly that had been, he had no idea. The memories came tripping back, tumbling incoherently between flashes and shouts, sharp pain and acrid gas. But it couldn’t have been long.
The first thing Dick saw when he woke up, his eyes adjusting to the dark, was his own feet. His bare feet on a damp concrete floor, ankles chained to either side of his chair. Dick groaned and tried to move, only to find his torso chained to the steel chair he was sitting in, and his arms chained behind his back. He flexed his fingers. His gloves had been removed. A blinking, blurry look down at the rest of his body found that his belt had also been stripped off his person. The chains were merciless, cutting raw into his exposed skin if he tried to struggle against them. The only thing he’d been left with was his mask, still solid on his face.
It wasn’t completely dark, that much became slowly apparent as Dick’s eyes continued to adjust. There was the faint, orange radiance from the inhibitor collars clasped around the necks of Wally, Kaldur, M’gann, Conner, and Zatanna. The rest of the team was in a similar situation, arranged in a circle of chairs, all facing one another. Leaking pipes suspended over their heads dripped onto the floor and down the eroding walls, leaving behind trails of rust stains. The air was stale, un-circulated. As his mind cleared, his head still pounding, Dick took in the details of their surroundings and drew his conclusions.
Across from him, Kaldur and Wally began to stir. Their leader straightened up from his slumped position, breathing deep and measured in betrayal of his pain. “Sound off,” he called, blinking into the dark. Atlanteans had a natural adaptive eyesight to low light environments, but it was clear enough that their encounter had disoriented him just as much as the rest of them.
“Here,” Wally croaked from beside Kaldur.
“Here,” Dick replied, and through the lenses of his mask saw the relieved slump in Wally’s shoulders as he squinted in his direction.
The remainder of the team replied in turn; Artemis, M’gann, Conner, and then Raquel, putting in a few good tugs at her restraints before sighing back into her chair. “Here, unfortunately.”
One voice remained missing from the roll call. Artemis was already straining to see in the dark, her breathing a pitch faster until Kaldur called out. “Zatanna?”
“Zee?” Artemis echoed.
A muffled voice whimpered from the chair to the left of Dick. Whipping his head to the side he found Zatanna, bound in the same way they had all been, but with a cloth gagging her mouth. She struggled harder against her restraints, trying to speak around the gag, and coming up with only incoherent sobs.
“Zee, it’s okay,” Artemis pulled against her chains, trying to move her chair closer, only to discover the chairs had been bolted into the floor. “It’s okay,” she repeated.
“How is any of this okay?” Wally groaned.
Artemis snapped her head toward the speedster next to her. “Not helping!” she hissed.
“ Everyone calm down,” Kaldur’s commanding voice cut straight through the rising argument. A moment, then two, of silence passed before Kaldur spoke again, ensuring the attention of the Team was solidly on him. “The distress signal has been sent. It will not be long until reinforcements arrive. Robin, what are your estimates?”
Dick mentally went through the data again before he spoke. Even so, it was a task in and of itself to think through the pounding headache. “We’re still in the same building,” he reported. “They couldn’t have moved us quickly enough without the League arriving after getting the alert, so it can’t have been more than ten minutes, maybe fifteen. They moved us to storage in the basement of the apartment building using the service elevator. Chairs are bolted to the floor, so that suggests pre-mediation. It was a set-up. They knew we were coming.”
“You think they fooled Batman with bad intel?” M’gann asked.
Dick shook his head, and instantly regretted it. “No. Batman wouldn’t be fooled that easily. Strange is a psychologist. He thought a few steps ahead after he realised we were coming and acted fast.”
“Yeah,” Wally rolled his eyes. “Because Batman’s so infallible. Couldn’t have been his mista-”
“Seriously not the time,” Dick snapped.
Wally recoiled.
“It would be wisest to focus on what can be done now,” Kaldur interjected once again. As he said this, he inclined his head toward a single red dot glowing from the corner of the ceiling. One by one, the Team shifted their eyes without moving their heads and acknowledged its presence without saying a word, sitting straighter. Confident his message was received clearly, Kaldur nodded. “Can anyone get free?”
“It’s a bust for me,” Artemis replied. “They took my gloves.”
Dick slumped back into the chair. The chains eased just slightly around him. No use in struggling at this point. It was better to conserve energy. “Same here. Got my belt and shoes too, so there go my extra lock picks.”
All of their tech had been stripped away, their powers neutralized. A knowing silence settled over the Team as they looked at one another. Kaldur nodded grimly, and tapped his foot on the ground three times. “It would appear that our best option is to buy time and wait for help to arrive.”
“You mean our only option,” Conner grumbled, and tapped his foot as well.
Kaldur sighed. “Yes.”
How long they had to wait for their escape, it was impossible to tell exactly. But they did not have long to wait at all for something to happen. A single light bulb hanging above their circle flickered on, buzzing with the effort of the ancient wires to keep it glowing. The team winched and blinked at the sudden change, casting them in a dim cone of light.
Dick heard the rusty screech of a door opening and closing behind him, footsteps clacking on the concrete. Metal details in the soles, expensive. He knew who was speaking before the man had stepped into the light - not that it was a great leap.
“Everyone is awake? Good, good,” Dr. Hugo Strange said as he entered. “Then we can begin.”
“You people really can’t help the cliches these days, can you?” Dick tilted his head. “I mean, the dark empty room, the single light bulb, all our chairs in a neat little circle.”
Wally smirked and joined in. “Did you decorate specifically for us?”
“Bet the rust on the walls is just for show.”
“Shucks, you shouldn’t have made such an effort.”
“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have,” Artemis snarled.
“Enough,” Strange cut them off, the unexpected boom of his voice trembling against the thick walls. He looked each of them in the eyes, the acrid light of the bulb swaying overhead glinting off his glasses. “I see I have my work cut out for me,” he sighed. “You will learn that this is for your own good, in time.”
“What do you mean?” M’gann frowned. She leaned forward, a constant tension in her chains as she resisted against them.
Strange clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace the inside of the circle. “I was extremely disturbed by the Justice League’s use of children for their covert operations - yes, I know all about your little team,” he waved a hand, presuming their indignation and too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice that they showed none. “Bad enough was the fact that these ‘Heroes’ insisted on training child soldiers to follow them into battle, but this is just...” Strange clicked his tongue and shook his head. He clapped his hands together twice and the door opened again. A man in an orange jumpsuit with an inhibitor collar around his neck entered, pushing a rattling metal cart that screeched on every other turn of its wobbly wheel, two more men in identical jumpsuits and collars entered behind him, taking places behind Artemis and Wally. The first inmate pushed the collar in front of Strange, and moved to stand behind Dick. “Incorrigible,” Strange concluded.
The three Belle Reve inmates at once reached out and yanked off Artemis, Wally, and Dick’s masks - or at least attempted too. Artemis and Wally’s masks came off without much fuss, Artemis’ detached style falling to the floor while Wally’s spooled on the back of his neck where it attached to his suit. Dick’s would-be unmasker barely touched his domino mask before a massive voltage of electricity shot out and shocked his arm. The inmate retracted his hand with a scream, clutching at the burn marks scorching up his arm, his fingers seized in a grotesque claw that his muscles couldn’t let go of.
Dick, unaffected by the shock, merely grinned back at the poor sucker. “Ah, ah, ah,” he shook his head in admonishment. “No peeking.”
“Stop whining ,” Strange hissed at the agonized henchman. He waved his hand to the other two, and they each took him under his arm and dragged him out of the room, the solid metal door screeching shut behind them. Strange glared down at Robin, who only smiled sweetly back at him. “Those three were out helping me on Good Behaviour,” he huffed. “Do you think that’s any way to promote their reintegration to society?”
“Probably not,” Dick shrugged. “But I’m going to go out on a limb and say your methods aren’t exactly board certified.”
Strange’s lip curled. “No matter,” he sighed as he turned toward the cart left behind. On the surface sat a metal tray and eight syringes. “We don’t have too much time before your mentors arrive, and I plan to be long gone by then, I’m sure you understand. With the time we do have, I’d like to ask you a few questions about yourselves. Really get to the root of the interpersonal issues that brought you into such a dangerous lifestyle. We’ll take an open circle approach, so you can share with your teammates.” The whole cart reeked of astringent. At least he had the courtesy to use proper hygiene. Strange lifted one of the syringes into the light, tapped the barrel, and pushed the plunger until a short burst of clear liquid was forced out of the needle. “Now, I believe that honesty is the best policy. That’s why I am going to give you a little something to help you release those inhibitions.”
“That’s Sodium Pentothal,” Wally growled as he strained against his chains. “The Truth Serum. We’re not stupid. It can’t make us talk.”
Strange turned to Wally with a mildly impressed incline of his head. “Very good,” he said. “And very close. This is a derivative of Sodium Pentothal, with my own modifications to make it more effective. Belle Reve provides a very lucrative testing ground. I am more than confident it can produce similar effects in all of you.”
The leaking pipes dripping down the walls and onto the floor were the only sounds to penetrate the tension seizing the room. The team looked to one another, searching eyes, waiting for a plan. Dick caught Wally’s gaze fixed on him across the circle, green eyes steady and reassuring and no less distressed. Beside Dick, Zatanna tapped her foot three times on the floor, the rhythm unsteady, but still there. She began to struggle harder against her bonds, trying to speak through the cloth with increasing desperation.
“I’d say start with her,” Raquel jerked her head across the circle toward Zatanna, repeating the three-tap pattern as she spoke. “She could really use the therapy.”
Zatanna nodded eagerly, any words she tried to get out muffled beyond recognition behind the gag tied around her mouth.
Strange merely laughed at the suggestion. “Good try,” he smiled patronizingly, taking a step toward Zatanna. He pinched her chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilted her head up at an uncomfortable angle, his other hand still holding the syringe vertically in the air. “I know how this one works. One word out of her, and she sets you all free,” he leered. Zatanna’s panic was real now, trembling against her bonds, a stray tear slipping down her cheek and soaking into the cloth bound around her mouth. “No, we can’t have that.” He dropped her head, and Zatanna recoiled back as far as she could move.
“What we need first and foremost is a control subject,” Strange spoke as if he were lecturing a class. “Thank you for volunteering,” he turned toward Artemis in the next chair over. She rattled against her restraints in response, all but baring her teeth. Still, there was little she could do to evade him, as he gripped her forearm and pushed the needle into her skin. The plunger injected the solution into her body. As he let go, her arm twitched in response. Already, she began shaking her head as if trying to clear a fog coming over her mind. “I already know all about you, Miss Crock. So, let’s use that as a baseline, shall we?” Strange turned back to the cart and replaced the used syringe on a separate tray, a drop of blood slipping off the needle’s tip. “What is your given name?”
Artemis gritted her teeth, breathing in measured gasps. “Artemis...”
Strange shook his head. “The name on your birth certificate, please.”
Whatever struggle she was putting up wasn’t winning over. Artemis’ mouth open and closed, gurgled sounds coming up from the back of her throat as she tried to suppress the answers. “A-Artemis... Lian Crock.”
“What are your parent’s names?” Strange turned back toward her, hands once again clasped behind his back.
“Sportsmaster and Huntre-”
“Give names.”
Artemis squeezed her eyes shut. “L...Lawrence and Paula Crock.”
Strange nodded. “What is your sister’s given name?”
“Jade Nyugen.”
“And what is your sister’s Alias?”
“Ch-Chesire.” With every forced answer, Artemis’ head bowed lower toward her chest, the strain to hold it up too much. Her voice slowed and slurred.
“You’re doing very well,” Strange praised. “Now, let’s see what we can share with your friends. Tell me.” He knelt down in front of Artemis, laying a domineering hand on her shoulder. He gave her a firm shake, and while it wasn’t sufficient to keep her head up, the jolt was enough to force her attention. “What is your greatest personal weakness?”
A sound like a mangled sob bubbled up from Artemis’ chest. She gagged, as if the effort to keep the answer in was making her nauseous, and the answers might come up with her bile if she held them back any longer. “I-I’m...” she hissed through her teeth. “I’m... too much like my Dad to be a hero... a-and too much like my Mom to do anything about it.” The last words came out in a gasping rush, unable to get the words out fast enough. Artemis slumped forward the moment Strange retracted his hand.
Zatanna wrenched against her chains, eyes brimming over, crying out behind the gag, and trying to reach Artemis with no success. Strange merely clicked his tongue and stood, brushing the grime off the knees of his clean, pressed trousers. He took a small recorder out of the inner pocket of his jacket, clicked a button, and spoke into it. “Group Sixteen, Subject A: Retained coherence for approximately one minute, twenty two seconds. Tolerance is nil. Will continue to monitor. Moving on to Group Sixteen, Subject B.”
With a soft click, he stopped recording, and slipped the device back into his pocket. Strange then turned back to the tray, picked up a syringe with a longer, thicker needle, and went through the same process of preparing it. He turned toward Kaldur. “Ah yes. Aqualad. You are the Leader, I understand,” he said as he approached. “Now, I don’t want you to worry, I’ve done my research on Atlantean skin density. This should only pinch.” Strange plunged the needle into Kaldur’s bicep with greater force, the skin refusing to give away at first before finally the sharp end of the needle pierced through. Kaldur choked back a groan. “There. That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Strange commented as he once again methodically placed the used syringe on the second tray.
“Where to begin,” the rogue Doctor mused. “With the basics, I think. Tell me first. What is your given name?”
Kaldur kept his mouth sealed shut tight. He blinked, each time his lids drooping for a moment longer, but he managed to remain alert and silent.
“Well, if you are intent on making this difficult,” Strange sighed in exasperation, reaching onto the lower shelf of the metal cart. He produced a long cylinder no larger than a tin can that, when struck against the floor, produced a brilliant flame erupting from the top. The room was washed in a violent orange light. Strange held it outward, only a foot away from Kaldur’s face. “Give me your name.”
Kaldur leaned back as far away from the fire as he possibly could. Even across the circle M’gann recoiled just the same, a wild panic in her eyes. “Stop it!” she cried.
“Your name!” Strange commanded.
Kaldur’ahm shouted in pain as the heat became too much, but the moment that he opened his mouth, the shout mangled into his unwilling response. “Kaldur’ahm!”
Strange retracted the fire. “Was that so difficult?” he scolded, although he did not put out the fire. “Now. Where is your Team’s Headquarters? Tell me where you are based.”
Now that he’d spoken once, Kaldur found it all the more difficult to resist speaking again, the words tripping out of his mouth. “M-Mount... Mount Justice. Happy Harbour,” he replied, defeat and frustration thick in the back of his throat.
“Oh, now isn’t that interesting,” Strange all but cooed. “Mount Justice. The original headquarters for the Justice League, wasn’t it? Until its location was leaked in 2006. Hiding in plain sight, isn’t that clever.” He chuckled, suggesting that it wasn’t quite clever enough. “Let’s keep going. You are their leader, aren’t you?”
“I am...” Kaldur responded.
“And do you trust your Team?”
“Y-.... ye-...” Kaldur gagged, the tone and intonation in his voice altering slowly. “Nai...”
“Nay?” Strange tilted his head curiously. “Nay, as in you do not trust them?”
“Empih’stevohmah ti zo moh stos filus moh,” Kaldur answered.
Strange frowned. “Would you ever keep a secret from your Team? Would you lie to them?” he tried again.
Kaldur glowered back at Strange from beneath a low brow, venom dripping off every word. “Tha’ekana oti eprepe’na kanoh gia’na tos prostateh’so.”
The flare began to peter out, sputtering its last weak flames and left the room in its singular cone of acidic light in otherwise total darkness once more. Strange dropped the flare, and reproduced his recorder. “Group Sixteen, Subject B: Reversion to native language at two minutes. Note to self: obtain Altantean translation.” Slipping the recorder back into place, Strange looked down at his watch and sighed. “Dear me, it seems our session is almost over. I’m afraid I won’t have time to get to everyone, but we can always book another appointment.”
“Yeah, that’s going to be a hard pass from me,” Dick said.
Strange turned his attention on Robin. “Is that so?” he raised a brow.
Dick shrugged. “My schedule’s full. Between school and child-soldiering, I’m booked.”
A malformed smile stretched wide across Strange’s too-pleasant face. “Well then, you’re just in luck,” he said as he approached the cart and plucked a syringe from the tray. “I have just enough time for one more round. And since we’re all being honest...” he purred as he stepped toward the Boy Wonder. “You’re the only one I really want to talk to.”
Across the circle, Wally lurched manically against his restraints. “Hey, why don’t I answer some questions for ya?” he shouted eagerly. “Wouldn’t even need the injection! Ask anyone, I never shut up! Kid Mouth, that’s what they call me. Hell, I could use a shrink, I’ve got no one else to talk to! I’m practically itching to dump my whole life story! It all started with my Dad-”
The inhibitor collar around Wally’s neck erupted with a shock of electricity as Strange hit a button on a small remote he’d taken out of his pocket. Wally jolted, his body going rigid under the shock until it finally gave out and he collapsed back into his chair.
“Kid!” Dick cried out, losing himself for a moment as he tried to lean toward him. Strange grabbed roughly onto Dick’s forearm and shoved the needle into his bicep. Dick barely had the time to react beyond a snarl and a futile jerk of his arm.
The drug shot through Dick’s arm like liquid fire, burning hot to the point of freezing as it crackled into his nerve-endings. He felt the path of it traveling into the base of his neck, up into his skull, until his head was pulsing with it, so heavy and thick his eyes for a moment felt nearly impossible to open. Dick breathed in slowly through his nose and did not fight it. He let it consume his mind, dulling down to a cold ache. The less he fought, the more control he had. Batman trained him for every eventuality - this was only one of many.
But he’d never been subjected to the drug itself. Only safe synthetics, under his mentor’s supervision. Even now, he heard Bruce’s voice in the back of his head.
“The truth doesn’t have to be what you know they want you to say. Don’t resist. Think your way around it.”
Strange yanked the needle out of his arm. “What is your given name?” he asked.
The compulsion to tell the truth only got stronger the more he fought it. Dick leaned into its influence. “The one my parents gave me,” he answered.
With a scowl, Strange dropped the syringe to the ground, ignoring the shatter of the glass barrel. “What is the written name on your birth certificate?”
“The name my parents wrote down.”
Strange snarled. “Where do you live?”
“In Gotham,” Dick replied.
“Where do you live in Gotham?”
“In a house.”
Patience running thin, Strange lunged forward, shoes crunching in the broken glass as he gripped the back of Dick’s chair on either side of his shoulders.“And where is your house?”
Dick rolled his eyes. “In Gotham,” he sighed. “Seriously, it’s like you’re not even trying.”
Strange retracted his arms, only to backhand Dick hard across the face. Dick’s head swam, his vision nearly blacking out, but he managed to remain grounded. Around him, his teammates all struggled against their restraints, shouting their outrage. For his part, Dick only cracked his neck to the side and smirked up at Strange. Desperation and fury glistened on the sweat beading down his bald head. He was running out of time, and he knew it. All Dick had to do was stall.
Strange, breathing hard, straightened the front of his suit jacket. “Who is your family?” he asked, all facade of a friendly psychiatrist vanished without a trace.
Dick felt the answers asphyxiating deep in his throat, fizzing like stomach acid. He focused on the sting throbbing in his cheek as he thought through an answer that would give him some relief. “The people I’m related to and the people who raised me.”
All at once, Strange’s expression shifted. Self-satisfied and victorious. He had found a thread to pull, and Dick realised his mistake too late. “Two different definitions, I see,” he sneered. “My, oh, my, Robin. You’re getting lazy. Who are you related to?”
Dick squeezed his eyes shut. “My... my mother and father.”
“And where are your mother and father?”
There was no time to think around the answer before gut-ripping nausea threatened to overtake him, the room spinning around him. “România...” he said, the syllables trickling off his tongue in his natural cadence.
“Romania?” Strange scowled. “ Where are your mother and father in Romania?”
“Ci... cimitir,” his voice cracked.
Dick forced his vision to focus beyond Strange, where his team all stared back at him in subdued horror - not only at the brutal line of questioning, but at their own discomfort, the fact that they were listening. Everyone but Wally, still catching his breath from the electric shock, who only looked back at him in understanding fear. A wave of agony rolled over his throbbing brain, forcing Dick’s eyes to snap shut again before the toss and turn of the room made him vomit.
To his left, he heard three hard stomps on the floor rattling against tight chains. “I’m not feeling great...” Artemis croaked.
“Quiet.” Strange snapped at her before his attention gravitated back toward Robin. “Who raised you?”
Dick only just had enough self control left to force his answer out in haulting English. “M-my father.”
The thin thread of patience Strange was attempting to maintain began to wear thin. “You said your father was buried in Romania,” he mused. The alternative dawned on him nearly in an instant. “Unless you have two. Who is the father that raised you?”
The answer came heaving out before Dick had the chance to swallow it down. “Batman...”
Finally, Strange was getting to the answers he wanted. His eyes shined with greed. “And who is Batman?”
Wrong question. Dick took in a few deep breaths, evened himself out, and as he lifted his head let the response come. “A vigilante based in Gotham City... The Dark Knight... World’s Greatest Detective... do I really need to go on?”
Strange slammed his fist on the tray, rattling the syringes and sending two crashing to the ground. “Enough! What is Batman’s secret identity?!”
He was unraveling. And that meant Dick was winning. Even with barely enough strength to keep his head up, he managed a smug reply. “Who he is when he’s not Batman.”
Again, across the circle, Artemis slammed her foot against the floor three times, as if she were trying in vain to break free. “I feel sick...” she moaned.
Strange whirled on her. “Shut up!” he roared, turning whip-fast back to Robin. “Let’s try something new, shall we?” he said with a manic edge as he leaned forward, his face inches away from his captive. “Really get to the bottom of your resistance. What are you thinking right now?”
Dick grinned. That, he could answer. “Is this all you’ve got?”
The thread snapped. Strange spun around, grabbed a syringe blind off the cart, and lunged forward. His fingers clawed into Dick’s hair, tugging painfully at his scalp, as Strange yanked his head back and positioned himself behind the chair. He pointed the tip of the needle at the side of his neck, and watched gleefully as the remainder of his captives struggled in panic. Wally fought the hardest among them against the chains binding his hands around his back, to the point that drops of blood began to drip down onto the floor. Dick could just barely see it at the painful angle his head had been pulled back, could barely breathe or swallow, and couldn’t help the instinctual struggle against the burning in his scalp and the needlepoint poised at his neck.
“You’re clever, I’ll give you that,” Strange hissed in his ear. “Very clever. But I’m done playing games, do you hear me? You’re going to tell me what I want to know. Unless any of your friends want to speak up?” He looked at each of them intently, at the helplessness on their faces, and clicked his tongue. So focused on the team, he missed the moment Dick mouthed a silent “Don’t” to Wally, and the look of torture on the Speedster’s paled face.
“Just tell him, Robin!” M’gann cried.
“Oh, this is interesting ,” Strange chuckled. “They really don’t know who you are, do they? Now, how are your teammates meant to trust you if they don’t know the first thing about you? We’ll call this a team building exercise.” He pushed the needle into Dick’s neck.
His vision went white. Like a railroad spike had been driven up into his head from the back of his skull and through his eyes. Dick didn’t scream, barely made a noise beyond a retch, as Strange let go of his head with a shove and let him slump forward. The second dose worked faster than the first, doubled in strength now. Dick could hardly feel his body, the pain in his head giving away to a numbness that was too relieving to fight again. His stomach lurched, and the whole world seemed to lurch with it, rocking like a ship on rough seas.
Strange spoke from somewhere around him. Dick couldn’t tell now. He heard the click of a recorder, and the clang of it being set on the tray. “Group Sixteen, Subject C. Subject has been given a second dose of Sodium Pentothal. Note that the subject showed inclinations of regression to a native tongue beforehand, and is exhibiting debilitating lethargy. Beginning interrogation at 01:10... 30. Now, Robin. I’m sure you know that a patient’s history is vital information to have. So, let’s try this again. From the top,” he said, his voice orbiting around Dick as he circled him. A low rumbling traveled through the foundations of the building from high above them. Dust rained from the ceiling. “Who are your parents?”
Any control Dick had left over his answer had been drained away. He couldn’t even stop his mouth from moving, try as he might to keep it closed. “Mort...”
“Mort,” Strange echoed. “Close enough to Latin. They’re dead, are they? And how did they die?”
“P-părinții...”
Strange pulled his drooping head up by the scalp again. “Speak up, Robin. Your friends can’t hear you.”
From far outside of his tunneled vision, Artemis stomped her foot on the ground again and moaned. “I can’t see...”
Dick all but sobbed out the answer. “Părinții mei au fost uciși!” He had only a moment between when Strange let go of his hair and when he slapped him again.
The rumbling from above came again, stronger this time. Strange looked anxiously at the ceiling before rounding on his subject. “In English! I know you speak English!” Strange roared. He struggled to right himself again, but seemed to find that his grip on his composure was failing with every second he wasted. Strange smoothed his hand back over his balding head. “Fine. We’ll stick to simple answers. Names. What are the names of your mother and father?”
The names came out between clenched teeth. “M-Maria și John Grayson...” Dick felt sick for an entirely separate reason the moment he spoke. His parents' names should never be spoken with so much hate.
But at last, that seemed to be enough to satisfy Strange. Dick, blinking through kaleidoscopic vision, looked up to watch the dozen spinning faces of Dr. Hugo Strange morph into grotesque satisfaction. “The Graysons... you’re the Romanian Orphan...” he breathed, eyes wide, as if touched by a divine revelation. “That Circus Brat he took in. That’s it isn’t it? I’m right,” Strange laughed, the mangled sound echoing off the walls as he stepped back, swiping both hands over the smooth crown of his head. “I’m right. I have it. But let’s confirm , shall we?” Strange leaned into Dick’s space again, inches away from the boy’s face. “What is Batman’s given name?”
Fuck. He couldn’t hold it in. Dick bit down on his tongue until he could taste blood, shaking his head frantically. The name wanted out, and it felt as if it was willing to draw his intestines up with it if Dick wouldn’t allow its release. “Br... Bru-”
The room erupted into dissonant, ear-splitting shouting from the rest of the team. Zatanna was in near hysterics, crying against the gag around her mouth, as Artemis shook violently against her restraints before going still, with only faint twitches and strangled gasps to betray any sign of life.
“Hey, do something!” Raquel begged. “She’s dying, help her!”
“Shit!” Strange cursed. He scrambled to the cart, and hit a button hidden on the underside of the handle. The door to the cellar swung open, and the three inmates came rushing in. “She’s having an adverse reaction to the serum, take her out of here,” he commanded.
One of the inmates produced a key from his pocket, and ran around to the back of Artemis’ chair to unlock her chains. “Should we bring her to a hospital, Doctor?” the brute asked.
“Are you insane?” Strange hissed, manic with fear. “Just get rid of her! If Sportsmaster finds out I killed his daughter he’ll have my head in a trophy case just for the disrespect!”
The moment the chains went slack, Artemis fell forward out of her chair and into the middle of the circle, her body slamming into the cart and sending it crashing over onto its side. Strange roared in outrage, and dropped to his knees to salvage any syringe that might have survived the fall, sorting through the glass. Moments before two of the inmates descended on her, her limp body moving like a rag doll on their rough hands, she tapped her hand on the ground. Three times, in what looked like nothing more than an involuntary twitch.
One - Two - Three.
Play - A - long.
The inmates hauled Artemis upright and began dragging her toward the door, not even two steps away before Artemis suddenly rallied. She used the men’s hold on either of her arms to launch her legs into the air, twisting up and backward. The inmates let her go in favour of fumbling to catch their balance. Artemis landed in a crouch, unsteady but still on her feat. The serum was still in her system, dragging her body down in drug-induced lethargy, but she didn’t have to stay upright for long. Just long enough to lunge at the back of Zatanna’s chair and pull the gag off her mouth.
Zatanna gasped as the cloth finally came free. “Esaeler ym setammaet!” she shouted.
All at once their chains came undone, locks snapped, inhibitor collars opened and fell uselessly toward the floor. In his disoriented state, Dick watched as directly across the circle from him, one of the collars seemed to fall in slow motion in front of a pair of red boots. Before the collar had hit the ground, the boots disappeared, and suddenly Dick was out of his chair and sitting against the wall on the far side of the room. Wally crowded in front of him, his hands the only thing keeping Dick’s head up. “Robin,” he panted. “Are you okay?”
“Naibah... el știe totul... el știe totul,” Dick rambled deliriously.
“Babe,” Wally cringed helplessly as Dick continued to ramble on. “Babe, I can’t - hey , I can’t understand you.”
Over Wally’s shoulder, Dick watched as Conner launched from his chair with a roar. He went after the two inmates who’d been taking Artemis away, grabbing them both by the collars of their jumpsuits before they could try to go after her again. He threw them both at the opposite wall at the same time, hard enough to put a dent in the concrete and shake the room. Kaldur, by no means steady but in a better state than both Artemis and Dick, went after the third inmate. He did not have his water-bearers on hand, but he made do, ducking under an attempted swing before grabbing the inmate by the shoulders. His arm tattoos glowed an electric blue, as spark traveled from him into the inmate. Using what was left of his strength, he twisted his grip, then his body, and used the leverage to haul the inmate over his shoulder, throwing him into the pile with his fellow detainees.
With Raquel darting across the circle to take care of Artemis, Zatanna ran straight toward the inmates, scooping a handful of the chains off the ground as she went. “Niahc setamni eht rehtegot!” she cried. The chains in her hands, as well as every other discarded chain on the ground, linked together and wrapped around the three inmates, tying them back to back.
That left one more problem. Strange, during the commotion, had tried to scramble away, as if he could hide in a dark corner of the room and remain out of sight. All of his earlier bravado vanished. M’gann, hovering a foot off the ground as she approached him, eyes glowing green and hair waving suspended in the air, looked more like a Fury than a girl.
“You ,” she seethed. Her arm struck out, hand open.
Strange began to levitate off the floor, kicking and struggling uselessly. “I’m not going to tell anyone!” he yelped. “I earned that information! It’s mine to keep!”
“You’re not keeping anything,” M’gann growled. Her eyes flashed, and in the same moment, Strange’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. His struggling dulled down to faint twitches, his mouth opening and closing in silent gasps. For what felt like hours, the two of them hung there in mid air, the Team watching in alarm, until finally M’gann dropped her arm, and Strange dropped in a limp heap onto the concrete floor along with it. M’gann touched down gracefully, her hair and cape falling around her in a gentle cascade.
Overhead, the rumbles and distant explosions continued to rock the foundations of the building. No one said at word, as dust continued to rain from the ceiling with every vibration. Conner was the first to break the silence. He approached his girlfriend with a scowl stuck somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “M’gann... What the hell did you do to him?”
M’gann’s gaze never left the half-conscious puddle of a man. “I erased all memory he had of what he learned here.”
“Is that all?” Conner gestured wildly down toward Strange. “You completely fried him!”
M’gann whirled on Conner defensively, crossing her arms over her body. “What, do you want me to feel bad for him? I had no choice, Conner! We couldn’t let him leave with any of that information.”
“She... she does kind of have a point,” Artemis offered hesitantly, one arm pulled over Raquel’s shoulder to keep her upright.
Kaldur’ahm, moving with slow, calculated steps, surveyed the room. “Kid, trex te brostak’ai anaktiste ta’opla mas. Ean vreite’nan Iroa, ferte to stineh topothes’iamas.”
“Aqualad, we don’t know what you’re saying...” Raquel frowned as she helped Artemis back into one of the chairs when her legs began to buckle.
M’gann, tearing away from her annoyance toward Conner, sighed sympathetically. She lifted her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. “Here...” There was a marked difference between the gentleness with which she linked their minds together, in comparison to her brutal psychic attack.
“Thank you, M’gann,” Kaldur’s voice drifted through the mind-link, unimpeded by language. Still, there was an exhaustion even in his projected thoughts that suggested he was still under the serum’s sedative influence. “Kid, run ahead and retrieve our weapons. If you find any Leaguers, let them know of our location.”
Wally was reluctant to leave Dick. He squeezed his shoulder. “Will you be okay?” he asked.
Dick could have used the mind-link, probably without an issue, but he still didn’t quite trust himself to communicate in any way just yet. Keeping his mouth closed and his thoughts to himself, he merely nodded.
Wally still didn’t look convinced, but he knew enough to recognize it was all he was going to get for the moment. Within a blink, he’d run out of the room, the door closing slowly in its wake. Dick tilted his head back against the wall, and willed the room to stop spinning.
Round-up didn’t take too long - or if it did, Dick had been slipping in and out of consciousness and hadn’t noticed. Wally came back within a few minutes with his arms laden with their weapons, passing them out to each of their owners. When he got to Dick, he helped him get his shoes and his belt on, matching Dick’s silently frustrated look just as he’d been about to insist he could do it himself. Wally wasn’t having any of it, and in the end Dick was too tired to argue. Not that arguing was going to do much good right now anyway. It was the Hawks, who were already based in St. Roch, that had come to answer their distress signal. They had met resistance from super-powered inmates of Belle Reve standing guard for Dr. Strange. The Team was commended on their quick thinking and adaptability, Strange and his inmate subordinates were handed over to their custody, and they were given leave to return to Mount Justice for their debriefing and physicals.
The Bioship was still cloaked above the penthouse, just outside of M’gann’s telepathic range. It seemed almost ridiculous, after everything they’d been through that night, but they took a long and extremely quiet elevator right up to the roof, where the Bioship touched down and uncloaked, lowering her gangway for them to enter.
“That was some pretty good thinking back there,” Zatanna praised Artemis, an arm around her back as she helped her girlfriend onto the Bioship. “But I thought you couldn’t lie...”
“I wasn’t technically lying,” Artemis replied. She dropped onto her seat on the bridge, sighing in relief as the Bioship morphed her chair into a longer recliner to elevate her legs, and stretched out to the side to make room for another passenger. “I feel like absolute shit.”
Zatanna slid into the extended seat next to her, her hand running up and down Artemis’ bicep where the needle had punctured. “Then maybe we should talk about the other things you said...”
Artemis dropped her gaze, and after a silent moment had passed, shook her head. “Not now, Zee,” she shut her down. Though it wasn’t unkind, it wasn’t welcoming of the topic either. “I’m fi-... fuck , I mean I’m f-fi-... God , I cannot wait until this shit is out of my system.”
Kaldur’ahm entered behind them, sighing as he too lowered himself into a modified chair. “I believe it may be several hours before the serum’s effects end,” he said through the link. There was a pause there that Dick didn’t need to see to understand, as he picked the further seat away from the team at the back of the flight deck and huddled into it. “And maybe longer before it has left Robin’s with the second dose.”
“Kaldur’s right,” Wally said. He took his seat tentatively next to Dick, allowing him the opportunity to make any indication he wanted to be alone. When Dick didn’t reject him, he leaned back, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Sodium Pentothal works like a kind of like an anesthetic. It’ll wear eventually. Sleeping it off is your best bet.”
With everyone in their places, M’gann rested her hands over the Bioship’s glowing orbs. They lifted slowly off the roof, rotating North East, before taking into the sky. St. Roch shrank into a web of twinkling lights below them. The flight deck remained absolutely silent, tortuously so, after all they had witnessed and been through that night.
Conner cleared his throat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he looked at Dick. “So... Batman is your-”
“Conner,” M’gann cut him off sharply.
That ended any attempt at conversation. Dick wished he could say he was grateful, but he couldn’t feel much of anything at the moment. That probably should have been alarming, but he didn’t even have it in himself to feel alarmed. He was dead exhausted, nauseous, emotionally drained, couldn’t even trust himself to speak through a psychic link and be able to get anything out coherently. Didn’t trust himself to say something he’d regret later.
He was just so fucking tired .
“Hey...” Wally whispered to him. He’d shifted without Dick realising, providing him a shield from the eyes of their well-meaning team. It was a comfort Dick hadn’t known he needed. “You’re okay. Alright? I mean it, try to get some sleep.”
Dick nodded. Pressing his face in against Wally’s shoulder, he hummed under his breath. “Mulțumesc.”
“Uh, yeah,” Wally smiled. “Muhltsu-mess to you too, babe.”
Only Wally could have made him laugh right now, even if it was just a bare twitch of his mouth and a stuttered breath.
As anyone could have predicted, it was a largely silent trip back to Mount Justice. Flying over the east coast state by state, over cities and mountain ranges stretching on into the pitch-black beyond, the Team took the time to recover. It was far from their worst encounter - but any of them would be lying to say it wasn’t up there. Artemis, Kaldur, and Robin slept for most of the journey, waking up only when prompted to drink water, to stay hydrated, as the serum was metabolized and faded in strength. Dick didn’t fault himself too much for clinging to Wally just a bit, his arm around his torso and his face buried away from the sight of his friends until he felt he could face them. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover it. Mortified struck a truer chord - and it wasn’t like he could lie at the moment.
As the hours of their flight passed, Kaldur and Artemis seemed to make their slow recovery, still slightly lethargic, but Artemis was able to tell Conner that she was madly in love with him without issue (a comment that earned her a shove from both the Kryptonian and her girlfriend), so the ability to lie had clearly restored itself. Dick opted not to test anything and remained silent for the duration of the trip, sleeping for long stretches until he at least felt certain he wasn’t going to vomit.
“Approaching Mount Justice,” M’gann announced as the mountain came into view, rising up between the ocean and the sparse lights of Happy Harbour.
Dick watched the approach, and realised with sudden clarity that he couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t want to do this anymore. Sitting up suddenly, and regretting it just as fast as the flight deck spun for a moment before Wally’s hand on his back grounded him, Dick turned to M’gann. Dick turned to M’gann. “Uh, Miss M, I... I think...” he tested the words out slowly on his tongue to make sure they came out the way he wanted. When he was confident he could speak, he cleared his throat, and continued with a bit more confidence. “I think I saw a fire on the other side of town,” he said, tapping his hand on his knee three times. “Mind if we take a loop around to check it out?”
M’gann frowned in confusion before she picked up on his signal. “Bioship to Cave,” she said, summoning the feed to the Cave’s computer. “We’re making a fly by over Happy Harbour to check out a suspected fire. Landing will be delayed by about five minutes.”
Batman’s voice replied after a long pause. “No fires have been reported,” he said, and after another pause, added; “Use your discretion.” Dick couldn’t help the feeling that he was being spoken to directly.
The connection closed. M’gann guided the Bioship away from Mount Justice to make a round trip of the habour below. “Alright,” she said, looking to Robin. “What’s this about?”
Dick thought for a moment about backing out. If only to make sure that this was what he really wanted to do. He took in a deep breath, steeled his resolve, and shifted to rise before Wally’s hand laid over his wrist. When Dick’s eyes trailed to him, he found an unspoken understanding hidden behind his gaze. Wally knew what he was about to do.
“Hey,” Wally whispered, “are you sure?”
Dick nodded. “Yeah. Positive.”
He could have imagined it, it could have been the drugs still messing with his brain, but Dick could have sworn for just a moment he saw a loss in Wally’s expression, the end of a secret held between just the two of them. Even so, it was only a moment, replaced with a knowing smile as he removed his hand and reclined back in their seat. “Well. Can’t keep you to myself forever.”
Testing his steps carefully, Dick moved to the front of the flight deck, turning to face the team. This time he didn’t shy away from their eyes all fixated on him. He took in another deep, fortifying breath, before speaking. “Listen... I really don’t ever want to be in that position again,” he began, watching each of his friends’ expressions twist in confusion and concern. “I mean, obviously, no one does, but... I’m just tired of lying to you all.” Dick lifted his hand to his mask.
Every young hero on the bridge sat upright in an instant, wary and watching all the same.
“Robin,” Kaldur started cautiously. “You know you do not have to do this. We trust you as you are.”
“I know,” Dick replied. “And I trust you guys too. I always have. That’s why I want to do this.”
“But didn’t Batman forbid you from sharing your identity?” Raquel asked.
Dick frowned, staring down at his boots for a moment. All he could offer was a shrug as he looked up again. “He did. And I get why he did. It’s not just my identity that gets revealed here. But... like I said. I trust you all. This is way overdue, and it’s my decision to make.”
He didn’t meet any more protest from the Team. In reality, he knew that they would have been fine with keeping his identity a secret. He also knew that they were dying to know anyway. The mask peeled off, the non-conductive glue pulling a bit at his skin like it always did, but ultimately coming off clean. As he let it drop from his face, clutched in his left hand, he realised that this was the first time he’d ever really looked at his friends in the eyes unobstructed.
He offered a timid smile. “My name is Dick Grayson,” he said.
The breathless hold he had on the Team dissipated into something else, something Dick couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew some of them would make the correct conclusions, and know the whole truth of his life without having to say a word - so he didn’t. He’d much rather introduce himself as he was, than introduce himself as the things that’d happened to him. At the back of the bridge, Wally watched him, proud and loving and everything Dick could ask for to the point of it being almost overwhelming. Once again, all Dick could really do was shrug, opening his arms and letting them fall to his side again. A belated and uncomfortable awkward ‘ta-da!’ to his reveal.
M’gann beamed, eyes glistening. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dick.”
“Yeah...” Dick smiled back, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. Standing in front of everyone had seemed like a good idea at first - but he was left feeling more awkward than anything. Ducking his head, he made a beeline straight back to his seat with Wally, his boyfriend grinning and giving him a playful shake. The hardest part was, hopefully, over.
“So, you’re Romanian, huh?” Artemis turned on her side in her chair. “I think it suits you.”
Dick raised a brow. “How so?”
“You already had the nocturnal bat thing going for you,” Artemis shrugged. “Now you’re just one step closer to basically being straight out of Transylvania.” She curled her index fingers and brought them up to her mouth to imitate fangs.
Dick rolled his eyes. “Maybe my destiny all along has been to become a vampire.”
“I could see it,” Artemis smirked.
Dick narrowed his eyes at her. “...You already knew, didn’t you?”
“I had my suspicions.”
“How?”
“First semester last year. Bette Kane blew a gum bubble so big it popped in her hair and I heard you laughing across the cafeteria. I’d recognize that evil cackle anywhere.”
“I don’t cackle,” he frowned.
Wally nudged him with his elbow. “You really do, babe.”
Dick groaned. “Is it too late to put the mask back on?”
“Absolutely.” Conner answered.
Artemis shot upright in his seat again, so hard she nearly knocked Zatanna off. “Wait! That means Bruce Wayne-”
Dick sighed. “Yep.”
“Bruce fucking Wayne.”
“Would you like a Billboard to put that on?”
“Oh my god!” Raquel howled with laughter.
Dick wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the numbness had shaken off by the time they began their descent into Mount Justice’s hangar, the Bioship coming to a smooth glide into its port. If he’d been asked a day ago, he’d have said that his identity remaining a secret didn’t affect his relationship with his team at all, that he was just Robin to them, and that was just fine. And he would have mostly been right. He believed his team when they said they didn’t need to know his birth name, didn’t covet that information or hold it over his head as if giving it away would be proof of his confidence in them. But it had always been a wall he’d needed to talk his way around, and having finally torn it down, Dick found that it was just one less thing he had to worry about. One more thing he could enjoy uninhibited.
When the Bioship lowered her gangplank, and the Team walked out into the Hangar, Batman was there. Dick hesitated at the top of the ramp, staring back at his mentor, his mask clutched in his hand, and his blue eyes all at once bold and wavering. Batman did not immediately address the team, nor did he launch into a tirade scolding his protegee for disobeying his orders. They were tired, and bruised, physically and emotionally, and none so more than Dick Grayson.
“Head home,” Batman finally commanded, turning in a black mass of cape and cowl. “We’ll meet back here tomorrow for your debriefing and official report. Until then, get some rest.”
Bruce wasn’t happy. That much was clear. But for better or worse, he chose patience that night, thin though it might have been. Dick went home that night, expecting his adoptive father’s eventual lecture and relieved of the weight of one less lie to tell.