Two Hours

Series note: This is the ninth act of the Red Bird, Blue Bird series. Each story can be read alone, but contains references to the other parts in this series. This occurs shortly after Bulletproof and the next in the series is With A Bang. Thank you and enjoy!

Two hours. Depending on what a person is doing in that time, two hours can feel like anything from twenty years to two blinks of an eye. Strung up like a slab of meat in a decrepit old warehouse getting a rather good thrashing, two hours begins to feel more like two hundred years.

Nightwing braced himself for the next fist to his abdomen, grunting slightly as the air was expelled from his lungs again. The chains wrapped tightly around his mostly numb hands rattled from the blow, the metal long since warmed by the bare skin of his wrists. His gloves, belt, and boots had all been removed at the same time his arms had been bound; he had kept his mask purely by luck of a coin flip – Two-Face was nothing if not fair when it came to his coin – but that was where his luck had run out tonight. If you can call being ambushed, drugged, kidnapped, and then beaten for two hours, good luck. At least he was still alive, as much of a consolation as that might have been at that moment.

Another punch to the stomach had him swinging on his chain before he had fully regained his breath from the previous blow. The tips of his toes just brushed the rough concrete flooring, having been raised on a pulley until he could only barely touch the ground. This left the total sum of his not insignificant weight hanging solely by his arms. He grit his teeth to keep from making any noise as his ribs protested another punch to the gut, and his right arm – the elbow of which he believed to be dislocated from all the yanking, jerking, and twisting occurring during his rather precarious position – throbbed horribly with the motion.

"Enough," Harvey Dent commanded in his rough drawl to his henchmen, and the beating abruptly stopped. That was nice; they could chat finally. Dent stepped up close to Nightwing, right hand fisted on the front of his uniform, left hand flipping his coin repeatedly. "Where's the Bat?" he growled in his face.

"What, I'm not good enough for you? Harv, I'm hurt, truly." Nightwing smiled cheekily, looking the man in his mismatched eyes.

Dent glanced at his coin as it landed in his hand this time, before balling his fingers around it and sending his fist crashing into Nightwing's cheek. The brutal punch left his ears ringing and caused the inside of his cheek to split open against his teeth. Blood filled his mouth, but he ignored it. In sick triumph he smiled again, his red stained teeth gleamed in the harsh lighting.

This was not how he had planned this night to go. Not even a week back on the streets after the shooting, he was halfway through his patrol, and had been on his way to meet with Red Hood to relay his newly gathered information on the Joker's possible whereabouts. Five minutes 'til the rendezvous, Nightwing had received a signal from Commissioner Gordon about Two-Face's latest scheme, the robbery of a jewelry store owned and operated by a pair of twin brothers. Batman and Robin were busy with Riddler downtown, and Red Robin was back in Jump City. He'd tried paging Red Hood but it seemed as though the younger had ditched his comm again. Nightwing had been the only one available to respond.

Turns out the lead had been a trap for Batman, but Nightwing was unlucky enough to have been the one to spring it. Fast forward one baddie brawl, three chlorophorm filled breaths, and two hours of punches to the gut, wrenching of his arms, and dangling like a metaphorical worm on a literal hook, and here he was. At least Dent was staying away from the freshly healed scar on his neck.

No, what he had planned was an hour or two chatting with his wayward brother, shooting the breeze and running down a few leads. Instead, he's stuck here, wishing he had a breath mint to give Two-Face, who seemed intent on breathing right in his face.

"Where is Batman?" he snarled, making Nightwing scrunch his nose in mock disgust.

Seriously, what had he been eating? Pickled herring and onions? Baby diapers and gym shorts? Bleck!

"Man, when was the last time you brushed your teeth? Three years ago? Four?" Nightwing questioned, turning his face away in search of fresher air.

Another coin flip, another punch to the face that left his senses reeling for a moment.

"Your luck is running out, same as my patience," Two-Face growled. "Answer the question, or the next decision for the coin will be whether to shoot you in the head or the heart."

"Come on, Dent. You and I have a history. Haven't we been through this enough times that you've learned by now that no matter what you do to me, I won't tell you anything that I don't want to tell you? So even if I knew where Batman is, I wouldn't tell you," Dick replied, slowly, as though explaining something obvious to a three year old. "Now, I don't know about you but I have somewhere else to be."

"Eager to die?" Two-Face asked in an angry drawl.

"Eh, something like that. Previous engagement, hate to keep 'em waiting. You know how it is," Nightwing stalled, rather unsuccessfully, as Two-Face shoved him roughly and took a step back.

He grasped the coin tightly for a moment before tossing it up into the air. As the coin reached its peak height and began its descent, Nightwing kicked out at the spinning disc. Aim true, he sent the coin flying across the room. Dick yelped at the pain he knew the move would cause his aching body; but the difference between knowing and experiencing was like the difference between mint chip ice cream and Brussel sprouts. But it was worth it as Two-Face went running after the coin, leaving his two thugs to stand there glancing around, unsure of what to do.

Just as Nightwing was once again faced with figuring out how to get out of his uncomfortable predicament, a gunshot broke the uncertain atmosphere. Thugs began to drop as more gunshots rang out. Those remaining bolted for the door. With the opposition scattered, battered and fleeing, a figure jumped from a broken window, landing with a quiet thud in front of the still hanging Nightwing, red helmet firmly in place.

"Didja miss me?" asked Red Hood and he could hear the smirk in his brother's voice.

"Took you long enough," Nightwing replied, resisting the urge to slump in relief. "What, were you an hour late for our meeting?"

"Hour and a half," Red Hood corrected absently as he worked on freeing his brother. "Figured you just got bored and left 'til you wouldn't answer your comm."

"Fell out when I was ambushed," Nightwing supplied.

"Knew something had to be wrong or else I'd of been getting an earful of your complaints. Who knew you being predictably annoying would one day save your life."

"All part of my evil plans, Hood," Nightwing informed with a swift, if tired grin. Trying to not cry out as his injured arm was jostled when Red Hood finally released him from his chains. Glancing around at the downed thugs, Nightwing raised a questioning eyebrow at his brother.

"What? I didn't kill any of them."

Glancing around again, Nightwing asked, "Where's Two-Face?"

"Got away."

That caused Dick's focus to snap back to his brother. "And you let him?" There was no accusation in his voice, merely confusion and curiosity.

"Would you rather I leave your sorry ass and go after him?" Jason demanded, already knowing the answer he'd receive, getting the expected negative head shake. "Alright then, quit bitching at me and let's go. You need medical attention and I want a burger. Fortunately, I know where we can get both."

The end.

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