Chapter Nine

This was not how the plans should have gone. Not with three Bats here, and definitely not with fuckin' Goldie being one of them. Goddamn asshole.

The fighting had been going absolutely fine, each of them kicking ass nicely. The goons went down quick, and there were only a couple left. It should have been in the fuckin' bag. Then that asshole just had to move- Hatter, not Goldie. Jason barely caught a glimpse of him raising a pair of dart pistols before some kind of device was flying through the air towards him and Cass.

His eyes went wide with panic as the green pulsed- then receded completely as confusion took it's place. Faster than he could have tracked, Nightwing leapt through the air, somehow contorting his body to catch both of the darts. The one for Jason landed in his upper shoulder, whilst the one that should have hit Cass was in his hand.

Jason charged his way over to the Mad Hatter and slammed the butt of a pistol into his temple, not caring as the man crumpled carelessly to the ground. He took just enough time to slap some restraints on him, in case he woke up. The second it was done, he half-ran back to where Dick was on the ground, Cass crouched beside him. She caught his eye, and nodded her head to the device embedded in his hand.

Jason felt his lips peel back in a grimace. That shit was nasty. Whatever the damn thing was, it had a spike on it which had gone through Dick’s hand entirely, and some kind of mechanism with several small claws that dug into the flesh around the entry point. “We gotta get him back. Can't get that shit out here.”

He moved to lift the slimmer man, only to stop himself the second his fingers scraped the other man's suit, forewarned by Cass’s sudden alarm. At his touch, Nightwing spasmed away, as if burned, and his lips moved silently.

Jason looked at his sister, “What's he tryin’a’ say?”

Her eyes cut from Dick’s lips to Jason's eyes, and there was a tinge of concern as she said “Poison.”

—

“What's he trying to say?” Tim asked, one of many Bats that were gathered in the cave after the message went out that Dick had been caught with a new Hatter device and injured.

Jason frowned at him, crossing his arms across his chest as he answered, “Cass said he was saying ‘Poison’. Dunno why, I used the kit, there's no proper toxin or anything.”

Meanwhile, across the room, Batman growled out, “Wake up, Jervis” and shook the groggy man hard enough that his ratty coat waved. Once he seemed semi-conscious, the Bat asked, “What do the devices you used do? I won't ask twice.” His voice dropped, full of ominous tension.

After a moment of visible confusion, the Hatter grinned, “Me oh my! I imagine not. Why would I ever deny the chance to explain my latest discovery?”

This, at least, caught the attention of the Bats, excepting Cass who remained with Dick. Jervis didn't appear to care, as he excitedly explained himself, “You see, you see! After so many tries and trials and tests and theories, I realised something…People don't like being happy! Silly, really, isn't it? People don't like happiness, they don't trust that it could ever be real! I kept trying to give them what they wanted, but it wasn't what they wanted, only what they thought they wanted because what they wanted was what they had! Does that make sense?”

Jason let out a low aggressive noise, but whilst Red Robin tapped a finger and said, “I get it. They didn't trust their dreams come true because humans can tell when a dream is too good to be true, right? So…what did you do instead?”

Jervis frowns, “Well, the lovely device I was trying to help Alice with-”

Red Hood interrupted, “No. The darts, you fucking-”

“Oh” The Hatter waved a hand dismissively, “Those things? They're prototypes. They encourage a mix of bad memories and real experience.”

Red Robin's head tipped to one side, “So, when something happens to him now-”

“His mind tries to connect it to a bad memory, yes! It was meant for convincing Alice, or others I suppose, that I could help them, save them!”

A look of mild horror crossed Tim's face, “But if you put that in someone like Nightwing-”

“Well it was never intended for him, so I haven't the slightest clue! Isn't that wonderful? Such mystery.”

Jason scowled **** at the insane inventor, “What’s with the claws?”

Another mad grin, “Oh, yes, yes! The darts are designed to cling to the user, to make sure the help has time to work, to make sure there's no interruption. I have a release remote- had, sorry, I had. It broke. Awhile ago actually-”

Everyone's else cut over to Nightwing as a **** noise echoed in the chamber and he began to thrash. Red Robin rushed over, swiftly checking various vital signs before throwing a look back in confusion, “He's fine? He just…he must think he's **** for some reason.”

The group stared for a moment, clearly unsure how to proceed. Then, Red Robin slowly said, “Maybe if…”, before gently taking the other hero's hand, and pressing lightly on his chest to **** a breath.

The **** and seizing stopped. Relieved looks passed between the Bats. Then, Jervis said, “Hmm. Well, that's not normal.”

Nightwing's eyes opened, and chaos erupted. In a perfect manoeuvre, the acrobatic hero spun around, his legs cutting precisely in attack at where Cass had stood mere moments before, whilst his torso moved to where Tim had been less swift to move. In a show of impressive strength, even amongst heroes in peak condition as the Bats were, Nightwing's hands gripped Red Robin’s upper arms and leveraged off of them to lift himself. One hero powered around the other like some form of spider-like clinger, and as the others watched, all of Red Robin's equipment belts and holsters dropped the ground, unclipped in the same movement that flew Nightwing up and around the other’s figure.

Batman barked a short order “Hold.” as Nightwing landed.

They all stared at him. There was an unfamiliar snarl on the man's face, one arm wrapped through the armpit of the shorter hero before it twisted to grip the back of Red Robin's neck, completely locking the arm and shoulder and forcing the head down. The other hand, with the steel spike emerging from the other end, hovered over the bared neck of the younger hero, a clear threat.

There was a pause, as the situation sunk in. Nightwing moved with a degree of deadly precision that nobody in the room expected. Hell, nobody even suspected it was in him. Nightwing, for his part, was clearly not totally present. He wasn't looking at any of them, and there was no way he was consciously aware of what he was doing, considering who he was doing it to.

Then, he spoke.

“Turn…off.”

The boys exchanged looks whilst Batman threw Jervis into a cell. Jason put his hands out calmingly, “Hey, hey. It's me, Dickhead. You know me. You don't wanna do this, alright?”

Dick spoke again, his voice harsh and stilted, as if he was fighting for each word, “Turn…it…off.”

That was when Batman came back, “Nightwing, listen carefully. The devices are designed to pull on your worst memories, in order to control you. You-”

A snarl, so unsuited to his face, was the only sign they got before the shoulder lock turned into a throw which sent Tim’s body flying into the other two suited men. Tim had barely regained his feet when Dick spoke again, and there was no hope any of them could get close enough to stop him.

Snarl in place, he reached up with his functional hand to grip the tube sticking out of his shoulder, “Not… failing… test!” and yanked it out, ignoring the small chunk of flesh that clung to the little hooks. There was a sharp inhale a few seconds after it was out, and his face relaxed, eyes rolling in relief. He sagged backwards, the table catching him even as his hand moved to the other tube. This time, the other Bats managed to catch him in time.

For his part though, Dick merely looked at them with surprise and a bright, fixed smile, “Oh, it's you guys. All good?”

Again, the boys exchanged a look, one that quietly asked ‘What the fuck is up’, then Tim softly said, “Let's get you patched up, Dick. We'll get that other thing out of you without losing half the tendons, okay?”

He looked down at it and frowned, wordlessly. Then, he looked over to the medbay, and strode to it. By the time the rest of them got there, he had a scalpel in hand and poised at the ready. There was just enough time for Tim to yell in alarm before the point of the scalpel pried at something near the base of the injector, and there was a soft hiss. Dick placed the scalpel calmly to one side and gently pulled the claws from his hand, then softly tugged the needle through from the other side. He quickly wrapped a tight bandage over it, then turned to the men blocking the doorway.

“All fine. See? I'm going now.”