A/N: Hello and belated happy Christmas, fellow YJ fans! I hope you all had a lovely holiday. :) Just two quick notes:

First, this is Alexandria–likethecityinEgypt's contest prize. For second place, her prize was that I listed my planned works to her and she got to choose which story I worked on next. She chose the PTSD fic. Which brings me to my second note...

WARNING: This story is about PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) which means I really put Dick through the wringer. This first chapter is the whole reason the story has been rated M. It is very, VERY dark. Even by my standards it's pretty brutal, so please be warned going in.

Other than that, Happy New Year. :)

oOo

"In the face of pain, there are no heroes." George Orwell.

oOo

When Dick wakes up, he's not sure where he is. He knows he's in a small cage – possibly a dog cage – he knows there's something around his neck, and he knows his feet are bare. He can't see these things because there's a mile of tape around his eyes, but he can feel them.

It's cold and there's water dripping somewhere. A gravelly voice makes him jerk. "'Bout time you woke up."

Dick frowns. Why didn't he know someone else was there? He's done enough sensory deprivation training to know when someone else is there.

He tenses when he hears keys rattle and the cage open. The second a hand grasps his ankle he reacts, kicking and fighting for all he's worth as he's dragged out, until someone punches him in the face. His head reels from the force of the blow.

"Try that again and you'll be sorry," the gravelly voice rasps in his ear.

Like Dick is going to listen to that. He's Robin the Boy Wonder; there's no way he's going to let some jerk who sounds like a bad western tell him what to do!

He brings his knee up hard into the stomach of the man leaning over him, and rolls to the side…only for his head to snap back. The tugging on his throat tells him that whatever is around his neck is secured to something else.

And then a massive fist cracks into his jaw. Once…twice…three times. Dick groans; this guy hits hard.

Without warning, he's rolled onto his stomach and his arms are yanked behind him. Dick tries to struggle, but his limbs feel weirdly heavy. Strong hands hold his wrists in place and something is tugged over his hands, then pulled tight around his wrists. Zip-ties. He can tell by the way they're cutting into his skin.

A hand curls tightly in his hair and a weight settles on him, crushing him against the floor. Dick can feel hot breath on his cheek. This guy must have gingivitis or something because his breath stinks.

"Listen up, rich boy," the man growls, and Dick's stomach flutters because crap! He's here as Dick Grayson, not Robin, and that limits his options somewhat. "Pull a stunt like that again and I'll make you wish you'd never been born, got it?"

Dick forces his head into a nod, scraping his cheek along cold concrete.

"Good. Because I only have one rule and you'd better obey it."

"What's…the rule?" Dick manages to ask. It's kind of hard to speak when your lungs are being crushed.

"You do everything I say."

Dick wants to snort or make a joke because is that all? But he's in no position to make smart remarks and this guy doesn't strike him as much of a funnyman. He nods, scraping his cheek again, and the rough hands release him.

He inhales as the weight gets off him. He doesn't say anything because he needs a second to think – how did he get here? The last thing he remembers is going to the restroom at the Wayne Foundation's annual charity ball. Dick wracks his brain but nothing else comes. He has no idea how he got from there to here…wherever here is. He's not sure he wants to know.

The man is removing the something from his neck. It's metal, Dick knows that much, but it's not a chain. Some sort of collar maybe? Whatever it is, it's a first for Dick. He's never been restrained by his neck before, and Dick has plenty of experience with being restrained – occupational hazard of being a child crimefighter. And the only son of a world-famous billionaire.

The second is probably what's landed him in this situation if the guy is calling him by his name. Dick wishes he knew how the man managed to abduct him from the charity ball because security is usually pretty tight at those things. He won't ask though; he has a feeling that would only earn him another fist to the face.

He's rolled onto his back and the man straddles him. The weight presses his pinned arms into the floor and Dick winces because it kind of hurts.

"You're gonna do something for me now," the man says in a low voice.

Dick wants to tell him to go to hell, but playing along is the safer option. "What?"

"You're gonna beg. You're gonna beg real pretty."

Wait, what?

Before Dick can react, hands are on his neck, squeezing hard. He splutters, trying to buck the man off, but it's useless because this guy weighs a ton and Dick hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of throwing him off.

"Beg!" the man hisses in his ear.

Dick chokes, frantically rolling his head left and right in an effort to break the hold. "Guk! W-what?"

"Beg me not to hurt you. Beg for your life."

Oh, this isn't good. He sounds more like a psychopath than your run-of-the-mill-kidnapper. Dick is confused, and more than a little panicked. What is going on?

"C'mon, little rich boy – beg," the man coos at him, and Dick jerks convulsively, unable to help himself because he. Can't. Breathe!

His legs are kicking while his lungs heave, desperately trying to suck in air. The grip on his throat is painfully tight and Dick's eyes water from the pressure.

"BEG!" the man shouts and shakes Dick violently by the throat.

"S-stop!" Dick manages.

"You don't tell me to stop!" the man spits through what sounds like clenched teeth. "You beg!"

Blood is roaring in his ears and the pressure on his throat makes Dick feel like his head might explode. Being strangled hurts worse than he could ever have imagined.

Dick doesn't want to play whatever this sick game is, but his instinct for survival is kicking in. Rational thought doesn't stand a chance. "D-don't…" he chokes out, then spits and splutters as the hands wring his neck so brutally he thinks it's going to snap.

"Louder," whispers the man maliciously. "I can't hear you."

Behind the tape Dick's eyes are squeezed shut, and he's vaguely aware that he's making noises he's never heard himself make before.

"BEG!" the man roars, making Dick jerk.

"P-p-please…" Dick gasps and the hands loosen their hold, "don't…" Begging makes him cringe, but he's fairly certain that's the only thing that's going to keep him alive. And right now, staying alive is his first priority. He can concentrate on everything else later.

The hands stop throttling him and Dick frantically sucks in air. A thumb strokes his throat. "Such a pretty neck," the man whispers hoarsely, breath hot on Dick's cheek.

Dick turns his face away because the man's breath doesn't just smell, it reeks.

"Beg for me again," the man orders, his voice low and strained with excitement. And that flat out scares Dick, because it means he's dealing with a serious kink. It means Bruce won't get a ransom call. And unless Batman finds him or he gets himself out, Dick will die here.

He needs to survive until one of those things happens, so he does what the man wants him to do. "Don't hurt me," he whispers. The words sound thick with humiliation.

"Beg me not to kill you," the man croons.

Swallowing, his face hot with shame, Dick complies. "Don't kill me."

The hands tighten a little. "Say please."

"Please."

The grip around Dick's neck squeezes into a painful stranglehold and he chokes. "You're not begging," the man hisses. "You need to beg like you mean it."

But Dick can't. He can't breathe. His lungs are pleading for air while his arms are screaming out from being crushed into the floor. His legs are kicking and his eyes are streaming. This is agony.

"Please…" he finally manages, when the hands loosen a little. "Plea– guk! Don't…"

"Good boy, that's it," groans the man. "Keep begging."

Dick feels sick. And angry, because what is wrong with this freak? "Please– ack! Don– guk!"

Every nerve in Dick's body is thrumming with fear and desperation. Blood is pounding in his head. The pressure on his throat is unbearable and Dick feels like those strong fingers are going to break his neck.

"Beg for me." The man's voice is breathy and ragged, and something in it makes Dick feel dirty.

"P-p-please…" he splutters. His head is going to explode and his whole body jerks convulsively. A frantic little whimper trickles out between the gasps.

The man groans and squeezes harder. "Beg for me…beg real pretty…"

Dick's stomach revolts and he wants to vomit. This can't be happening to him! It just can't!

"P-p-p– ack!" He chokes and splutters, trying to do what the man wants. But it's impossible with those hands throttling the life out of him.

Lights flash behind the darkness of the tape and all Dick can hear now is the rushing of blood in his ears. His chest is heaving and jerking as his lungs strain desperately for air. The pressure on his throat is excruciating and spittle is foaming at the corners of his mouth.

Then the world spins and reality tears itself away from him.

oOo

When Dick wakes again, he's confused. Is he dead? He sure feels dead: his throat is tight with pain, his head is throbbing and his limbs have a horrible, dead weight to them. Dick swallows, trying to work some moisture back into his dry mouth, but that only exacerbates the swollen agony in his throat. Worst of all, he can feel something around his neck again. If he's dead, then this must be hell.

Dick's not sure if he believes in hell, but if it's real he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve to be here.

His senses tell him he's back in the dog cage. Dick thinks he might be indoors, but it's cold and he can still hear water dripping. He shivers, rubs his arms, and promptly realizes two things: the first is that his jacket is gone, leaving him with just his shirt for warmth in the middle of November. The second is that his hands are free. Now would be a good time to make a break for it. He reaches up to unwrap the tape around his eyes, but someone bangs the cage and he jerks.

"Touch that tape again and I'll break your fucking fingers!" the gravelly voice rasps.

Dick hears keys rattle and the cage opening. His heart starts to beat faster and he clutches at the wire cage. A hand grabs his ankle and Dick kicks out. His bare foot connects with the man's face and there's a grunt of pain. It encourages him to keep kicking because Dick Grayson or not, all bets are off and he wants out of here.

But his movements are weirdly sluggish and he can't see. The man seizes his flailing legs and yanks hard. Dick keeps kicking and his fingers cling even more tightly to the cage.

"C'mon, c'mon," the man growls, more to himself than to Dick, tugging violently until Dick's fingers are torn from the wire and he's being dragged out of the cage.

"Get off!" Dick yells, twisting, kicking, bucking, punching and writhing. He's not going down without a fight. His fists strike blindly and he struggles for all he's worth, but this guy is so much stronger than he is.

It's only a matter of minutes before he's subdued. Him – Robin the Boy Wonder, partner to the Batman. He twists in the man's tight hold, trying to work out how this could have happened.

"You're a…feisty little fucker," the man pants, forcing Dick to the floor and holding him there. "I'll give you that."

"Bite me!" Dick snarls, before his head is smacked into the concrete.

"You listen to me, you little shit," the man grinds out. "You do what I say, because if I think you're going to be too much trouble, I will kill you, understand?"

Head reeling, Dick stops struggling. Every instinct he has is screaming to fight back, but this man is bigger and stronger than he is. He can also see; a key facet of defence that Dick is missing. Not even on his best day could Dick win this. Fighting back is pointless if it gets him killed. He needs to survive until Batman gets here or he gets himself out.

Defeated, he nods.

"Good boy." The man's tone is nauseatingly smug. "Now, I'm gonna give you some water and let you use the can. Try anything and I'll hurt you so bad that you won't wanna fight back ever again, capiche?"

"Yes," Dick grits out.

The thing around his neck is removed, and the man gets to his feet, hauling Dick with him. "Walk forward," the man commands, hands still holding tight to Dick's arms. Dick obeys.

"Stop!" the man orders after just a few steps. He lets go of Dick and something is thrust into his hands. "Drink," the man tells him, and Dick realizes it's a bottle.

He raises the bottle tentatively to his lips and sips. Water. Dick quickly chugs it down. It feels incredible against his raw throat.

When he's finished, the man takes the bottle and steers him in the opposite direction. Dick counts his steps, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. He's definitely inside, but there's an odd echo to their feet against the concrete floor, and Dick can still hear water dripping somewhere. Wherever they are, it sounds in need of repair.

They veer left and stop suddenly. "Toilet's in front of you," the man informs him, but doesn't move.

Dick feels his face go warm. Does he expect him to…?

"Well? What are you waiting for?" the man demands.

"I…you…"

The man shakes him. "I'm not leaving you here alone, and if you don't hurry on then I'll do it for you! Unless you don't have to go?"

Dick shakes his head because he actually really needs to go. Humiliation burning through him, Dick undoes his pants and does what he needs to as quickly as he can. He prays this guy isn't a pervert.

When he's done, the man hustles him back in the direction they came from and Dick's hears the man's breathing pick up as they approach the cage. Something akin to ice shivers through him when he realizes the man's rapid breathing is down to excitement.

He's going to strangle him again.

Dick wrests his arms out of the man's grip. There is no way in hell he's going through that torture again! He drops to the floor and delivers a sweeping leg kick to the man behind him. Dick hears the man go down as his legs are taken from under him and backs up. He can't see, but he can hear the man's heavy breathing and Dick uses that to focus on his position. He clenches his fists. All he needs is to get in one good hit, buy enough time to get the tape off. Because if he could see, he would stand a chance.

He can hear the man clambering to his feet. "You'll be sorry," he says in a low voice. "I told you not to pull any shit."

Dick doesn't answer. Instead, he concentrates on listening to the man's movements. When the man charges at him, Dick sidesteps quickly, whirling and backing away. He just needs oneshot, one good shot to make this guy go down.

But that hope goes out the window when he's tackled suddenly from the side. This guy is fast for someone so big.

They hit the ground hard, the man on top of him, and Dick is winded by the fall. Dazed, he can feel a strong hand seize both of his wrists and pin them over his head.

"Little bastard!" the man snarls. "The other boys didn't give this much trouble."

Other boys? Dick wonders, but is distracted by the man tugging on his belt buckle. He turns cold. "Wh-what are you doing?" he squeaks, trying to pull his wrists out of the man's grip.

The man responds by tightening his hold. "Making you sorry."

The feeling of his belt being pulled through its loops nearly paralyzes Dick with fear. "No…don't…" he gasps out between struggles. The bones in his wrists shift and slide painfully under the pressure of the man's grip, but Dick can't pull them free.

"Begging for me already?" the man whispers.

Something slides around Dick's neck and he can hear a soft clinking by his ear. His heart is pounding and he can hardly catch his breath. He's ashamed of his own fear. Robin isn't supposed to feel fear. Robin has faced Joker and Two-Face, even Scarecrow, the master of fear himself. One man shouldn't scare him.

Except he isn't Robin right now, he's just Dick. He has no gadgets to defend himself and no Batman to back him up. And he's up against someone who's bigger, stronger, and holds all the cards.

Dick's wrists are released just as something is pulled tight across his neck. He gags and his hands go immediately to his throat to find a strip of leather. The man is using his own belt to strangle him! Dick claws at the leather…smashes his fists into the man's torso…scrabbles frantically at the man's hands, but it's like he doesn't even feel it!

Dick tries not to freak out. He knows he shouldn't panic, knows he needs to think clearly, but he can't breathe and the pain is beyond comprehending. Then the leather is pulled even tighter, making Dick writhe with agony. He can feel the buckle biting into his skin.

"I told you I'd make you sorry if you tried anything," the man whispers in his ear.

Trying to get his fingers in between the leather and his throat, Dick ignores him.

"Are you sorry yet?" the man asks, then wrenches the belt so tightly, so brutally, that Dick is gagging on pain. He scratches the man's hands while his feet scrabble against the floor. And somewhere in the frenzy of pain and panic, Dick realizes that he's terrified.

"Not so feisty now, are you?" the man sneers.

The edges of his consciousness are blackening out when the belt finally loosens. Dick coughs and sucks in broken gasps. But his head hasn't even begun to stop spinning when the belt is being yanked tight and he's choking again.

"C'mon, little rich boy," says the man in a slow, breathy voice. "Start begging."

But Dick can't. He can't breathe, can't fight back, can't do anything other than jerk and make those god-awful retching noises.

"You know what I want," the man croons, reeking breath smothering Dick. "Just give me what I want."

Dick would if he could. This is horrific, utter agony and he wants it to stop. He'll do anything to make it stop, begging included. He's scratching his own neck as he claws at the belt, desperate to end the torture.

"Beg for me, you little fucker!" the man spits at him, and yanks the belt hard while a hand presses down on Dick's throat. The pressure makes him feel like his eyes are going to pop and he claws wildly at the man's hand.

Just when he's about to slip into darkness, the hand disappears and the belt loosens again, letting him breathe. Dick gulps down oxygen while reality tunnels back to him. "P-p…p-please…stop…" he wheezes, the moment he can. "P-please…no…more…"

"Keep begging," the man orders, pulling the belt taut again, although not so tightly as before.

"No, plea– guk!" Dick splutters, spit rolling down his chin. The pain is excruciating. "Please…don't– ack! Please…"

"That's…it," the man manages, breathing almost as ragged as Dick's. "Keep begging."

The humiliation, the pain and the terror overwhelm him and he gives a sob. The man responds by pulling the belt so tightly that Dick's head is jerked clean off the ground. And, oh god, where's Batman!

The man keeps tugging, yanking the belt violently until Dick feels like his neck is being broken. The wet, smacking noises he makes as the man strangles him sound like a death-rattle, and Dick knows he's going to die. This man is going to kill him.

He wonders if Batman will find his body.

The agony is beyond believing and Dick is falling into blessed oblivion when suddenly he can breathe again. He coughs and gasps, spittle running from the corners of his mouth, and it takes too long for him to suck in even one satisfying breath. He's shaking violently.

"P-please…n-no more…" he croaks, before the belt is yanked tight again. Dick whimpers. He can't take this, he can't! And yet, somehow, he is because this monster isn't giving him any choice.

It goes on for what feels like forever. Whenever Dick is on the verge of passing out, the belt loosens and he's allowed to breathe. But the man only gives him seconds to catch his breath before strangling him again. And each time Dick wonders if this will be when the man kills him.

The horror only stops when Dick is beyond struggling or fighting back, when he's limp and exhausted on the floor.

"Ha! You won't disobey me again, will you?" the man sneers. "Will you?" he repeats, shaking the belt around Dick's neck threateningly.

Weak and trembling, Dick shakes his head. He feels broken.

The belt is removed and Dick is dragged across the floor before the man shoves him into the cage. The metal restraint is placed around his neck again. Dick cringes at the contact and the man laughs at his fear.

Something sharp pricks the crook of his elbow, but Dick doesn't even have the strength to twitch.

Drugs, he realizes dimly, as blackness drags him out of this nightmare.

oOo

The third time Dick wakes, he's still trapped in the nightmare. No, scratch that. You wake up from nightmares; this has to be hell.

Because Dick is starting to believe in hell.

He remains tucked in a ball within the tight constraints of the cage, too afraid to move. Too afraid that the man is out there somewhere, waiting for him to wake up so he can torture him all over again. Because Dick knows that's what's going to happen. That's why he's here – so this man can get off on strangling him. This man is a psychopath, like Joker, except worse. At least Batman knows the Joker; he can find him faster than some random lunatic.

Dick listens hard, trying to discern if the man is there. But all he can hear is the sound of water dripping. There's something vaguely ominous about the sound.

After several long minutes, Dick decides that the man isn't here, so he sits up and stretches as much as the tiny cage will allow. He's stiff from being confined and his limbs still feel heavy. He knows now that's because of drugs.

His hands move slowly to his neck where the metal encircles it. His throat is tight and swollen, his skin gouged and raw. Whatever is around his neck only adds to the discomfort. Dick touches it tentatively. Definitely some sort of collar. Maybe he can get it off? His fingers fumble along the metal until they find a clasp. Shakily, he presses on the clasp and gives a sigh of relief as the collar pops open. That was easier than expected.

His next task is to remove the layers of tape from his eyes because he won't get out of this cage without his sight. Kind of hard to pick a lock when you can't see. Finding something to pick the lock will be a problem, but Dick's resourceful and he's worked with less.

His fingers slide along the tape, looking for a place to peel it off, but he's barely gotten started on his task when a roar makes him jump.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE TAPE?"

The man is back. Fear takes hold of Dick and squeezes hard. His hands pat frantically along the base of the cage for the metal collar; maybe he can use it as a weapon.

"I told you I'd break your fucking fingers if you touched that tape!" the man rages at him.

There's a rattle of keys coming closer and Dick gulps in panic, his hands still searching for the collar. His fingers close around it just as the key slides into the lock. Seizing the collar, he jerks back to a sitting position, breathing hard.

The cage door opens and Dick tenses, both hands clasped tightly around the heavy metal collar.

But the man doesn't make a move. Instead, Dick hears a sigh. "I thought you learned your lesson?"

Dick doesn't answer, heart thumping hard while he waits.

"I'd heard you were smart," the man continues, "but smart little boys learn their lessons and you don't seem to have learned any. So, since you're slow, I'm gonna give you one last chance. Put that down and come out of the cage, or I'll repeat our lesson with the belt."

Dick shakes his head. "You're gonna strangle me anyway." He's taken aback by how much his voice doesn't sound anything like his own: it's all cracked and broken and raspy.

"Stubborn little prick, aren't you?" the man comments. "Fine. Have it your way."

Dick hears him shuffling at the front of the cage and swings the metal collar hard. It connects with something and there's a cry of pain. Dick swings again, but is halted mid-swing. He guesses the man is holding the collar by the other end and tries desperately to tug it back.

"Little fucker," the man growls thickly.

The metal collar is smashed back into Dick's face. There's an explosion of pain as his head snaps back, lights flashing behind his eyes. He can feel the collar being yanked from his hands.

"No," he moans, because he knows the man is going to make him pay for this.

Dick tries to fight against the large hands that grab him, but his struggles are weak as the man pulls him out of the cage, dragging his knees along the floor. Blood dribbles from his nose and his breathing is panicked.

"I'm sorry," Dick says quickly, disgusted at his own weakness but at the same time desperate to avoid the horror of before. "I won't do it again, I swear!"

"Damn right you won't," the man growls, seizing the three middle fingers of Dick's right hand and forcing them backwards until they snap. Dick wails in pain.

"You touch that tape again, and I'll break every finger you have, understand?" the man snarls, shaking him viciously.

Breathing hard, Dick nods.

"You'd better!" The man seizes Dick's wrists, yanking him forward so suddenly that Dick topples from his kneeling position. The man forces something around Dick's hands before yanking it tight across his wrists and the familiar plastic of zip-ties bite painfully into his skin.

"And those are going to stay on this time!" the man says, dragging Dick to his feet.

Dick is trembling as the man hauls him forward. Blood is still trickling from his nose, pain radiating outwards in sharp, furious bursts. He wonders if it's broken. His shattered fingers are literally convulsing; twitching and shaking from the agony coursing through them.

The man stops suddenly and Dick feels something push against his lips and clang against his teeth. "Drink!" the man orders, as water rushes into Dick's mouth and dribbles down his chin. He can taste blood from the nose bleed, and the combination of that and his swollen throat makes him choke. He's spluttering when the man pulls the bottle away, but he still feels thirsty.

The man doesn't speak as he half-carries, half-drags Dick across the room. Dick tries to get his legs under him so he can walk, so he can feel at least some semblance of control, but his body isn't responding like it should.

They veer left and stop, and the man stands Dick upright. His heart sinks. They're in the bathroom again, but the idea of using his shattered fingers is more than he can bear.

"Toilet's right there, do your business," the man commands, like Dick is a dog.

"I– I don't have to go," Dick whispers, voice thin and reedy.

The man shakes him hard. "I'm not letting you piss yourself like some of the others! Fucking do it!"

Face burning in shame and humiliation, Dick fumbles awkwardly with the button of his pants. His broken fingers, shaking hands and bound wrists make the job harder than it should be.

"Oh, for chrissake!" exclaims the man irritably, and Dick wants to die when the man reaches around from behind and opens his pants. "Now hurry up!"

Dick does as he's told, ignoring the pain in his fingers as he hurriedly tries to use the bathroom lest the man decides to do that for him too. Something hot burns his eyes and Dick closes them, afraid he might cry. He wants Batman to come save him so badly that it scares him.

Because what if Batman doesn't come?

Dick finishes what the man wants him to do and despite the pain, forces his fingers to close his pants. This man already has enough power over him – Dick refuses to give him any more.

"Finally," the man hisses and drags Dick back to the other room.

Dick hears the man's breathing pick up. Desperation and fear churn in his gut because he knows what that means. He knows what comes next.

"No!" he croaks, and drives an elbow into the man's side. There's a slight 'ooof' and he pulls himself out of the man's grip. But before Dick can do anything else, a fist smashes into his face and his head snaps backwards. Hands fling him violently to the floor.

"No?" says the man, as Dick rolls to his hands and knees, head reeling and his nose now pouring blood. "I'll show you no!"

A booted foot is driven into his ribs, knocking Dick sideways. Then the man is on him, rolling and flattening him against the floor. Dick feels hands close around his neck and tries to pull the fingers away. The man responds by tightening his grip until Dick chokes. Loudly. Blood from his nose drips into his mouth, making him gurgle and gag. The fingers squeeze harder and Dick jerks his head, rolling it from side to side, desperate to break the hold. He claws viciously at the man's hands, ignoring the pain it causes his broken fingers, then tries to tear at the man's face…but he can't get his bound hands around the man's arms, and thumps against his torso instead. An image of Batman slices through the desperation and terror, making Dick sob.

Batman! Batman…where are you?

"Time to start begging," the man whispers in his ear, making Dick jerk his head in the opposite direction. Heart pounding and lungs heaving, Dick bends his legs and tries to dislodge the monster straddling him by pushing up from the floor, but it's useless. He's too big.

"Did you hear me?" the man snaps, shaking Dick by the neck like he's a rag doll. "Fucking BEG!"

Dick shakes his head because why should he when this guy just keeps strangling him anyway?

"No?" The man's hands disappear and Dick sucks in air, promptly choking on the blood pooled in his mouth. "Let's see if we can change your mind…"

The man gets off him and Dick rolls onto his side, coughing and wheezing as he spits out the blood. Batman, please find me. Please, please…

He lashes out when he feels the man's hands on him again, but a fist punches him in the face. Something clinks by his ear and Dick feels something slide around his neck. He literally goes cold with terror.

The belt.

"No," Dick croaks. "Ple- ack!" His words are swallowed as the belt is pulled tight around his neck.

The man pulls violently on the leather until Dick is gagging. He gives a choked scream as his fingers – broken included – claw frantically at the belt.

"Listen up, you little fucker," the man growls, "from now on you're going to do everything I tell you. You're gonna beg when I say beg, you're gonna whimper when I say whimper, and if I tell you to get on your knees, then you get on your fucking knees! Just. Like. This," he finishes, loosening the belt and dragging Dick to his knees. Then he moves behind Dick and pulls the belt taut again.

Petrified and in agony, Dick whimpers and struggles, scrabbling to get to his feet. A booted foot to his back pushes him facedown onto the floor, before the man uses the belt to jerk him to his knees again.

"Most importantly," the man continues, his voice low and terrifying in Dick's ear, "there's going to be no more of your shit. Or else we'll spend hours and hours and hours having fun with this belt." The belt yanks hard and Dick feels something give in his throat. "Do you understand?"

Dick nods frantically. The belt goes slack and Dick crumples to the floor, gasping for air and sobbing. He feels pathetic, weak. Batman… his mind gibbers at him.

The belt is removed from his neck and the man wraps himself bodily around Dick's crouched form, making Dick cringe into the floor.

"Now that we've got that out of the way…" the man whispers, fingers crawling through Dick's hair. His stomach churns from the stench of the man's reeking breath. "You gonna beg nice and pretty for me, rich boy?"

Too terrified to be embarrassed by the tears rolling down his checks, Dick nods. He'll do whatever the man wants to avoid the belt. It's a torture like nothing he's ever imagined.

"Good boy," the man sneers, triumphantly, rolling Dick onto his back.

And something in Dick dies a little as hands close around his throat once more.