A/N: I've had this idea for a while and when I saw that there weren't any fanfics already written for it, I thought I might as well be the one to write it. Enjoy!

Darkness.

Darkness as far as the eye can see – or, rather, can't see.

In this moment, that's all Dick Grayson knows.

When his eyes flutter open, he's surrounded by darkness that seems never ending, yet he feels claustrophobic. Like he can sense that whatever room he's in, it's small. Even though he can't see the walls, he can practically feel them closing in on him.

And for just a small moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Dick reaches his cuff bound hands up shakily, threading one through his sweat-soaked hair as he tries to control his breathing to keep from passing out. His head pounds like someone's taking a hammer to it. His back itches from being propped up against what feels to be a scratchy brick wall. His legs are bound and heavy like lead. Everything is heavy.

Where the hell is he?

He searches through his memories, trying to grab onto the last lucid thought he can find.

He knows he was on patrol. He knows he was cutting through an alley to save time. He knows he felt something fly by and prick him on the neck – soft, barely there, like a bug biting him before flying away.

Then, all he knows is darkness.

He's been taken.

That he's sure of.

How did this happen to him? He's always careful on patrol, always smart. He should have sensed whoever was shooting that dart filled with sedative. He should have been able dodge. Whoever got the better of him that quickly must be good.

Scary good.

He doesn't know how long he's been out, all he knows is that he feels groggy, as if he's been sleeping for a thousand years. He must have been out for a while. And Dick has seen enough statistics in his twenty-seven years of life to know that most abductors kill their victims within the first 24 hours. Time is of the essence. So, he pushes all thoughts of panic aside and focuses on something else. He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of Babs. He thinks of Bruce. Whatever can distract him and help motivate him to come up with a reason to get out of this.

Has Bruce noticed he's missing yet? Has Damian? Tim? Or have they just assumed he doesn't want to talk to them? Oh god, what if they never notice he's gone? What if he dies alone in this little room?

Once again, he has to steady his breathing so he doesn't go into a full-blown panic attack. He's usually more composed in these situations. That sedative must have done a number on him.

Out of instinct, he kicks his legs out, as if to escape the tight binds. Logically, he knows he's not going to escape. He's bound too tightly. But it's worth a shot, right?

He retracts his feet the second he feels them come into contact with something soft, like human flesh.

Then comes the pained groan.

Someone is in here with him.

"Fuck…" the voice hisses, heavy with sleep. Even though the tone is twisted, Dick swears he recognizes the voice… It's so obvious.

Jason.

Dick's heart sinks as soon as he identifies the body in here with him. No. Not his little brother. Anyone but him.

He knows Jason is not a poor fragile creature in the least – hell, he pities their captors if Jason gets loose – but he's one of the last people Dick wants to see stuck in this position. Even if it lowers his chances of escape, he'd rather be stuck here alone than be stuck here with his brother. Because if something happens to him, that's terrible, but if something happens to Jason…

He'd rather die than allow that to happen. He won't allow that to happen. Over his dead body. Whoever has them has to go through him first. And he'll put up one hell of a fight.

"Little Wing?" Dick rasps out, his voice scratchy like sandpaper. God, it stings. When did he last have something to drink? It feels like it was a lifetime ago. He doesn't even know how long he's been unconscious. For all he knows, his last drink could have been days ago.

There's a brief moment of silence that fills the stuffy room before Jason finally whispers,

"Grayson? They got to you too?"

Dick nods frantically, even though Jason can't see him in the dark room. He's just relieved Jason's unharmed.

"Yeah, they did. Whoever they are. Let me guess; you were on patrol when a dart flew past you and pricked you on the neck?"

Jason grumbles back, "Yeah, that about sums it up. I didn't even notice anyone. They just –,"

"Came out of nowhere?" Dick finishes for him. Jason lets out of a heavy sigh, and even though Dick can't see him, he's sure that he's running a hand through his hair. A habit of his.

"Spot on, Golden Boy. Whoever got us definitely wasn't working –,"

"Ow!" a sudden, loud voice interrupts. Dick jumps in his spot, steadying himself against the wall with his bound hands, as if ready for an attack even though he has no way of defending himself. His protectiveness over his brother spurs him on. He'd die before he'd let someone touch Jason.

"Who kicked me?" the same, familiar groggy voice speaks up. Dick resists the urge to scream.

Tim.

They took Tim too. Now Dick has two brothers to protect.

"Timmy?" Dick speaks up. "Timmy, it's me. Are you okay?"

Tim groans softly, his voice farther away than Jason's. He must be on the opposite side of the room, while Jason is in the middle of the two. Just from this information, Dick guesses that the room can't be that large. Not closet size, but it's not exactly a full room.

"My head is pounding and someone just kicked me in the side pretty hard, but I've had worse," Tim answers, sounding as groggy and distracted as Jason did when he woke up. "Where are we?"

"We don't know, little bird," Dick answers in a comforting, mother hen like tone. "But I promise, I'll get you out of this. Don't you –,"

"Hold up," Jason interrupts suddenly.

"Jason? Is that you? I didn't know –,"

"I didn't kick you, and Dick didn't kick you… So who the hell else is here?"

"Me, you imbecile."

Dick shuts his eyes in frustration, silently simmering in anger. The bastards took Damian too. They somehow managed to take him right out from under Bruce's nose. On patrol too, if these kidnappers stick to a pattern. His ten year old baby brother. They probably took his utility belt and boots too. How is he going to defend himself? Dick resists the urge to growl. If he ever gets his hands on their captors, they're going to regret ever laying eyes on the Bat Family.

"Now is not the time to give us attitude, demon brat," Tim spits. Dick rolls his eyes. Great. That's just what they need right now. A fight.

Aren't they supposed to be pulling together now, not apart?

"It's not my fault you managed to get yourself kidnapped, Drake!" Damian shoots back, his tone dripping with anger. "Don't blame me!"

"Would you two please shut the hell up?" Jason growls. "You're not helping our –,"

Without warning, the darkness is lifted. Sterile white overhead lights switch on, flooding the room with blinding white light, like a doctor's office. Dick's eyes burn from the sudden change, prompting him to look down and blink rapidly as his vison tries to adjust to the change in lighting.

"I see you boys are finally up. It's been quite some time."

Dick freezes.

The voice came from above. There must be an intercom system in the room. They're hearing the voice of their captor.

Or the voice of one of their captors.

Dick's eyes finally adjust enough to take a look around at his brothers. Thankfully, none of them are that injured beyond a few bruises marring their skin. Their looks are haggard, though nothing that could be cause for too much concern. But just as he suspected, all of them are weaponless, beltless, and shoeless. Not many captors are smart enough to take their shoes. This one went to extra lengths.

That's a bad sign already.

As for the room, it's relatively what Dick expected. Not too large, but not too small. It's entirely bare; the floor is white tile and the walls are plain white drywall, not brick like Dick originally thought. But Dick notices one peculiar thing.

There is not door.

Only a dumbwaiter on one of the walls.

"What do you bastards want?!" Jason screams up to the ceiling, enraged. Damian glares at him, as if willing him to shut up before he gets them into even more trouble.

"Oh, a million dollars, peace on earth, the end of world hunger. You know, the usual."

Whoever's talking to them is using a voice modifier. That Dick is sure of. No one has a voice that deep. But with or without a voice modifier, sarcasm gushes from his tone.

"Why are we here?" Tim asks, much more calm than Jason was.

"You'll see, Little Bird. Oh, you will see."

Dick growls, unable to stop himself. The man who took him and his brothers using his nickname for Tim in that sickeningly sweet tone makes his stomach turn over. He can't explain it, but there's something deviant about that man – something besides the obvious.

"Let my brothers go," Dick hisses up at the intercom. "I don't care what you do with me. Just don't hurt them."

"Nightwing, Nightwing, Nightwing…" the man scolds in a teasing tone that makes Dick want to vomit. "You should know better than that. I'm well aware that this isn't your first rodeo. But, I can promise you, it will be the most interesting. For all of you."

A cold, cruel laugh rings out. One that shakes Dick to his very core. From the look on his brothers' faces, it freaks them out too. It sound evil.

Demonic.

They're dealing with a psychopath. No doubt.

"Enjoy the next week, boys, because it may very well be your last."

A/N: I'll be switching up POVs in every chapter. Some will be in Dick's POV, some will be in Jason's, some in Damian's, Tim's, etc. Also, if I made any spelling or grammar errors, I'm terribly sorry. I don't usually do that. I finished this at 2am, so there's bound to be a few.

I hope you enjoyed and please tell me what you think! :)