Madder Than a Hatter Bat

Series note: This is the fourth act of the Red Bird, Blue Bird series. Each story can be read alone, but contains numerous references to the goings on of other parts in this series. This occurs shortly after Spilled Coffee and the next in the series is Bit of a Jam (for a continuation of this story in Jason's perspective). Thank you and enjoy!

"Nightwing to base, what's their position?" Nightwing called into his ear piece as he landed another jump over an alley to the next rooftop. A glance around assured him that neither of his queries were within sight, but he didn't dare stop for breath until he knew their location for certain.

"Base," came Tim's voice over the comm. link, rough and squeaky due to the cold he'd caught a few days earlier. The bug, a combination head and chest cold with a dose of tummy troubles for flavor, knocked the younger flat on his ass about a week after returning to Gotham. In an effort to still take part in patrol after Red Robin had been grounded to keep him from sneezing himself off the top of a building – or some other unfortunately likely cold-related scenario from taking place – Tim had elected to take over base communications for the evening. "They're both about five blocks back, still gaining. Take a second to catch your breath. Remember, keep your distance, but don't lose them."

"That's the plan," Nightwing replied, squatting into a crouch to take a breather, watching where he had come for any movement. He kept himself poised to bolt at a moment's notice, while still trying to ease the tension from his muscles. Needless to say, it didn't work, tense as he was. "Any luck finding me some cavalry?" he asked with a hint of hope, quickly crushed by the reality of his situation.

"Not yet. Black Bat is out of the country and Red Hood is—"

"Being his usual redly hooded self and not answering his comm," Dick interrupted, combing a gloved hand through his tangled rain dampened hair. It had stopped drizzling a short while earlier, but evidence of the down pour was left in the thickly clouded sky and rain-drenched terrain.

"I could call up someone from the League, if you . . ." Tim offered, trailing off.

"No. . . Bats'd have a conniption if we brought any capes in just for this. No, I'll find Hood," Nightwing announced, eyes still locked on the darkened horizon.

"How?" was the squeaky reply. "He doesn't carry a G.P.S tracker and he's off comm. How do you plan on finding him?"

"I have my ways, little brother," he said slyly, a half grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Two blocks," Tim warned just as Nightwing caught sight of a dark form coming towards him in the distance. Standing from his crouched position, Nightwing set off in a slightly different direction than his previously randomly chosen direction. He checked in with Tim a few more times on his journey every time one or both of his followers dropped out of his sight.

Not long after heading off, Dick found himself on a Laundromat roof a few blocks from Amusement Mile. He knew that with Jason's lack of lead on the Joker's whereabouts, Red Hood would default to scouring the clown's favorite hang-outs and playgrounds for information. Dick just happened to be very good at guessing where any one of his brothers were at any given moment – within reason – and guessed that Hood's next target was this area. He was soon rewarded with the sight of dark leather and red helmet slinking into an alley. Dick put on an extra burst of speed and, moments later, dropped into the same alley.

Red Hood was halfway through tying a pair of crooks together – muggers, judging by the almost-victim, a middle aged man in a business suit, as well as the pair of pawnshop purchased switchblades lying on the wet ground. The business suit clad man looked shaken and a little roughed up, but overall, unharmed. After reaching that conclusion, Nightwing paid the man no more attention than was needed to know the moment he left the alleyway. The incapacitated criminals he gave more attention, just in case either of them tried anything, but his main focus was solely his brother

"Hood."

Red Hood had his back to Nightwing; he stood up, and dusted his hands off. "What do you want, Nightwing?" There was a slight tone of irritation in his voice. "I thought you were handling that kidnapping case with Batman and Batbrat."

"I have a problem," Nightwing panted, trying to breathe past the stitch in his side. "Could use some help."

"What could you—" his brother turned to face him, finally noticing how out of breath he was. "Wait . . . why are you so out of breath? You normally have more endurance than I do."

"Just ran halfway across town – in twenty minutes. That's pushing it – even for me," he explained, hands on his knees as he quickly fought to regain his breath. "Needed help. Knew you'd be here."

"Let's get out of earshot of the civilians." Red Hood gestured towards the muggers behind him. "Rooftops?"

Nightwing nodded. "Yeah."

Once the two boys reached the rooftops, Red Hood turned towards his older brother, who was still out of breath. "What the hell is going on, Nightwing?"

"I was – being followed. Chased, actually. Need your help." He was getting irritated with himself for his clipped sentences, but even with his above-average endurance, running such a long distance in such a short amount of time still tired him out.

"Why do you need my help? Where's Batman and Robin?"

"They're—"

As if on cue, a shadow fell over the two, and both of Nightwing's pursuers moved into the view.

"Standing right there . . . being controlled by the Mad Hatter. . . Well, shit," Jason proclaim as he came face to face with both Batman and Robin, each wearing one of the Mad Hatter's infamous headbands.

Dick stayed Jason's hand as he reached for one of his knives, and gestured behind them with his head. "Run."

They took off, Nightwing dodging Robin's attempt at tackling him with Batman hot on his heels. Both Dick knew Jason had noticed that the Dynamic Duo seemed to only be interested in chasing the blue bird, but only Nightwing knew the reason.

"How did the Mad Hatter even get the headbands on them? Why are they only chasing you?" Red Hood asked, sprinting as fast as he could.

"Long story, I'll explain in a minute," Nightwing said before putting a finger to his ear. "Base, I have Red Hood. Now how about a plan to get these things off them?"

"Couldn't we just pull 'em off?" Jason suggested gruffly. Dick knew he hated feeling in the dark about something, but he didn't have time to fill him in yet.

"No," was Tim's immediate reply to Jason, though it was directed at Nightwing since Red Hood still didn't have a comm. "The neural relay adapters in the headband would cause feedback in the synapsis pathways that could . . ." Nightwing only understood half of the rest of his explanation, but he understood enough.

"Red Robin says no can do on that one, Hood," Dick informed, acting as vocal go-between. "Unless you like their noggins extra scrambled."

"Then what do we do, damnit!? I'm pretty sure you don't wanna die tonight, Nightwing." Red Hood tried to keep pace with his older brother, but even halfway dragged through hell, Dick was still faster than him. "What about dousing them? Short out the circuits?" he suggested, glancing back at the advancing Bat behind them.

"Base? Water?" Dick prompted after landing a jump from a high rooftop onto a fire escape, his brother following closely.

"Theoretically, it would stop the band from receiving, but we don't know what effect that could have on Batman and Robin."

"So, last resort only," Nightwing summed up.

"Yeah. . . But. . ."

"But?"

"I might be able to make something that cancels out the signal, nullifies the effects. I'll get back to you on that. Base, out."

Nightwing quickly relayed Red Robin's words to Red Hood, changing his focus back to keeping ahead of his pursuers.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Jason put an extra boost of energy into his running, "Nightwing, we need to find a place to take a breather."

Nightwing nodded, taking a right onto another rooftop to try and find a secluded area for him and Red Hood to breathe. They had made it to a covered alleyway somewhere on the East End of Gotham when they finally stopped.

"Alright, spill. What the hell happened?" Jason demanded, voice hushed to keep them hidden. He got straight to the point, knowing they couldn't stay hidden for long.

Dick let out a huff of air before starting. "You know about the mayor's daughter being kidnapped," he said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, little blonde girl. About seven or eight. Taken around three in the afternoon today," Jason confirmed.

"Seven, yeah. Alice Bryant. She was snatched from her school parking lot. Security cameras from the bank across the street caught the whole thing. From that, it didn't take Bats long to narrow down where she was being held; Tetch's MO was written everywhere on this thing." Jason nodded and Dick continued. "He narrowed it down to a pair of abandoned hat shops. Clock was ticking, so we split up. I went to Burnley, he and Robin took the one near the bay.

"I was halfway through searching when I got a distress call from Robin. How they got caught, your guess is as good as mine, but by the time I got there, they'd already been accessorized. Tetch said two words and I bolted."

Jason's brow quirked, "What'd he say?"

"'Kill him'," Dick answered simply.

"Well, shit!" Red Hood said shaking his head. He knew from past experience just how those headbands worked; they basically made Jervis Tetch's word law.

"At least the girl made it out safe."

"Base to Nightwing," Tim said in Dick's ear, breaking the silence that had settled between the brothers.

"Nightwing," he replied immediately.

"The Jammers are ready."

"Okay, I'm sending Red Hood to go get them." He nodded at Jason. "I'll distract them until you get back."

Dick saw the argument forming in Jason's mind. He could admit to himself that with everything going on with the Arkham escape and Wayne Enterprises, not to mention beating feet all over town just that night, he was tired. Nearing exhaustion, actually, but that was something he refused to reveal if he could help it.

He knew Jason could tell that his endurance was waning, but Nightwing was the only one the domineered duo would chase. Dick watched that realization sink in and the argument die before it reached his brother's lips.

Jason sighed heavily. "I'll hurry as fast as I can."

As soon as Dick nodded, Red Hood took off running in the direction of Wayne Manor.

Nightwing took a deep breath knowing what he had to do now.

Stepping out from his hiding spot, he surveyed his surroundings. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him; using these skills against the man who mentored him in them, as well as the boy he himself had mentored.

With a wry shake of his head, he spider-monkeyed his way up a brick wall and onto the roof of an eight story apartment building. Still no sign of them, but the hairs standing up on the back of his neck warned him of eyes on him.

He turned to face the man who raised him for half his life and the little brother he had raised for almost two years. "Guys, you don't want to do this. You don't want to kill me," he reasoned, trying to see if it would work at all to get them to even hesitate a little. Nothing. The two of them just inched forward closing in on Nightwing. "I'll take that as my cue to run." He pushed past Robin, sending a silent apology when he knocked him to the ground, and took off in a sprint. He was just trying to stall until Jason could get back to him. But in the meantime, he had to keep them close, while still staying out of reach.

Deciding to make the return trip as short as he could, he set off on his own path to the Batcave. He took a more roundabout journey, allotting time for Jason to get there and get a – hopefully brief – instruction on how to use Timmy's new inventions. He wound his way in ever changing patterns and routes, in zig-zags and back tracking, trying to get a bit of distance between himself and his unrelenting tails.

He had maneuvered his way a fair distance, only a couple of miles from the closest entrance to the Batcave, and he was beginning to think that their plan might just go off without a hitch.

And then his foot hit a particularly slippery mud patch as he jumped from the rooftop of a five story apartment building onto that of a four story Chinese restaurant. As he landed, the muddy puddle having escaped his notice in his haste, his feet shot out from under him and his momentum sent him sliding across the rooftop where he crashed into the stone parapet. The blow knocked the air right out of him, but he had had sense enough to brace himself for impact and so came away uninjured save for what was sure to blossom into an impressive bruise on his back come tomorrow morning.

Gasping to regain his lost breath, Nightwing pushed himself onto his hands and knees, only to slam back against the raised roof ledge again as a small, yet brutal kick connected with his side. Swallowing a grunt of pain, Dick looked up at his youngest brother. "I guess we're even now for me shoving you," he said, wincing mentally as he swiftly pulled a bola from his belt. "C'mon, baby bird. Snap out of it."

When Damian's face remained blank as he moved in for another kick, Nightwing tossed two bolas in quick succession at the preteen. One wrapped around both his knees, tying them together, the other restrained his arms tightly against his body. Dick caught the boy as he began to fall, laying him gently down as he struggled against his bonds. "I gotcha, baby bird."

The only mercy that Dick could think of in this entire messed up scenario was that at least Batman and Robin while under the Mad Hatter's control, had access to only their barest minimum of their usual abilities. They couldn't get into their utility belts or use any fighting style more complicated than punching, kicking and tackling. They both were just as strong and just as fast as usual, but at least he didn't have to worry about the tactician's envy that was Batman's mind, and the ninja volcano that was the youngest Robin's.

The only mercy, Dick thought, hesitating over the prone, yet struggling, form of his baby brother for a moment.

A moment too long, it would seem, as a sudden weight barreled straight into his back, knocking him forward. It was all Nightwing could do to keep from trampling the bound little bird, flipping both himself and Batman into the air. Normally, a launched back roll – even with the added weight of a fully grown, armor clad man – would have been no problem, but Dick had been so close to the edge of the roof when Robin began his assault; Nightwing had no room to maneuver for a safe landing.

The two men went over the parapet, plummeting two stories and crashing through the top level of a bi-level construction scaffold. With not enough time to draw his grappling gun, Nightwing turned, grip held firm on Batman. He positioned their bodies so he himself would take the brunt of the impact, his back connecting with – and breaking through – the wooden boards laid out as the floor for the metal structure.

As they freefell yet again, a fist suddenly shot out and hit Dick square in the jaw. He managed to keep his grip on his old mentor, even after a knee came up and plowed into his gut. He couldn't readjust their course, however, so instead of landing on the board-covered lower level, his side collided with the metal pipe edging, sending him off to smack against the wall of the building he'd fallen from. Nightwing groaned after landing with a thud in the narrow, debris-strewn alley.

Somewhere between clipping the scaffolding and kissing the asphalt, Dick had lost his hold on Batman. That thought spurred him into movement, and he pushed himself onto his knees, looking around.

He didn't have to look long as there was suddenly a black boot heading for his head. Nightwing had sense enough to dodge the blow, sweeping out his own leg to knock the Dark Knight flat on his back. Taking his chance, the younger man worked on restraining Batman. He pulled a pair of cuffs from his belt and managed to lock it around one wrist before his assailant lashed out again. With a savage uppercut that sent Nightwing to the ground, Batman regained the advantage.

Shaking off his daze, Dick found himself pinned to the asphalt by a heavy weight on his chest; the black cowl towered over him, the half of his face that was visible was void of all emotion.

And then the first punch landed, and another, and another, each one more brutal than the last.

"Batman," Nightwing pleaded, trying to get through to the man beneath the mind control.

He was rewarded with harsh, gloved hands grabbing either side of his face and cruelly bashing the back of his head against the black asphalt. Once. Twice.

Seeing stars, he lashed out blindly, but his hands were knocked away before he could do more than lightly brush the emblazoned bat on his tormenter's chest, and another punch was driven into his face.

Punches rained down on him; one breaking his nose with a crunch and a spurt of blood; another nearly dislocated his jaw; and yet another managed to shatter the already cracked lenses of his mask, the glass scratching the tender flesh around his eyes.

His breath came in labored gasps, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the pain that was so much more than just physical. This was Batman – Bruce – slowly beating the life out of him. That thought felt so wrong it was almost inconceivable. Bruce would hate himself after this. He would die if he actually succeeded in killing Dick; drowned in his self-hatred and guilt. The death of one of his sons by his own hands.

Dick couldn't allow that to happen. So, despite being in a non-secure location, not knowing who might be watching or listening. Dick's gaze turned to the empty face of his old partner, of his father. Blue eyes, wet from unshed tears, locked on white lenses surrounded by black as Dick nearly whimpered, voice pleading, "B-Bruce . . . stop, please . . . s-st-top. . ."

As if by some miracle, Bruce hesitated; stilling mid-swing, his knuckles inches from Dick's abused cheek. Batman's entire body froze and Dick hardly dared to breath. His tentative relief was almost palpable. It was shattered a moment later as the fist was pulled back again, winding up for another hit. Dick closed his eyes in defeat, bracing for the next blow.

The blow that never came.

His eyes shut, Dick didn't see what happened, but all of a second after the punch should have landed, he had Batman's limp body falling on top of him. Shocked, his eyes snapped open. He gently rolled Batman off him, before quickly skittering backwards as far as he could get from the unconscious Dark Knight. It took Nightwing a moment of trying to calm his racing heart enough to notice the other presence with him in the alley.

His gaze flitted over to Jason.

"Looks like I got here just in time. Bats had you good."

"Yeah," Dick said absently, eyes flicking back to Batman. He flashed a faint grin. "Though, five minutes ago would have been better."

"You're the one who decided to let him use you as a punching bag." His brother crouched down beside him, taking in his condition. "What the hell did I miss?"

"Slipped, didn't see him coming. Fell off the roof," he explained quickly, sentences clipped. His voice was a little shaky, but it was stronger than before. "You got Robin?"

"Yes, the hell spawn is back to his usual uncontrolled self. Little brat's taking a nap thanks to the Replacement's new thingamabobs."

"And Batman?" Both boys looked over at the prone black form.

"Got him too. Red Robin says they ought to wake up in a few minutes with nothing but a mean headache," Jason assured, seemingly paraphrasing Tim's words. "He's not sure whether they will have full memory of the event or not, though."

Dick carefully placed a hand to one of his bruised and tender cheeks, trying not to wince and aggravate his broken nose. "For their sake's, let's hope they don't."

Just then, they heard a muffled, "Guys?" come from above them on the roof where Damian was left.

As Dick quickly tried to pull himself together, Jason called out, "Down here."

They could hear Damian come down the fire escape, slowly. Once he made it to the others, rubbing his temples with one hand, he complained, "I've got a massive headache."

"I bet." Dick saw Jason smirk from the corner of his eye, leaning on the wall next to where he still sat. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Yeah. . ." Damian trailed off, eyes jumping from Dick to the ground and back again. He could nearly see the almost-apology forming in his youngest brother's head. "Ba—Nightwing, I . . ."

The scraping noise of specialized Kevlar against asphalt caught all of their attention and the three's eyes shifted over to Batman.

Realization hit Dick like a lead weight. If Damian remembered it, then so would Bruce. He stood abruptly, catching himself on the wall when his head spun, but played it off as nothing to his brothers. There wasn't much he could do to make himself look any less like the hell that he did, but there was one thing that he could do. He didn't even have to force the smile that came to his lips.

Batman stood up slowly. He glanced first at his youngest son, then his leather-clad middle child, gaze checking each over for injuries, before his eyes finally landed on his eldest. His sudden guilt was almost palpable. Dick certainly felt it.

"Nightwing. . ."

Smile gentle, Dick pushed away from the wall. His head ached, his mouth tasted like iron, his nose throbbed, and his face, back, and ribs were going to be black and blue tomorrow; he was exhausted, wet, and half covered in mud, not to mention missing both lenses from his mask. But Dick still had a job to do. His family needed him.

No rest for the weary.

And when it came to his family, he wouldn't want it any other way.

"Hatter's base has been disabled, Tetch is incapacitated, and the girl made it back to her family. How 'bout we let the police handle the rest and we call it a night, huh?" Dick's exposed blue eyes said 'it wasn't your fault, I'm okay, I forgive you' as his gaze slid back and forth from Damian and Bruce, before locking on the latter, easy smile still lighting his face. "Batman, let's go home."

The end.

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