Batman-no Bruce, just because he was wearing the batman outfit didn't mean he was batman. He was Bruce now, definitely Bruce. Why? Because Batman would never be on the verge of tears as he scanned the computer screen for the sixteenth time. Still nothing, no clues, no hints, no slip-ups, nothing. There was only one villain he couldn't track down. The Joker, you just follow the laughs and explosions. Catwoman, just follow the break-ins and complaints of-well, Cat like women. But this Villain, he was a whole new category. Batman didn't even know his name, nor what his exact crimes were. Then why was he trying so hard to track him down? Because this knew villain had his son! "I'm going to find you, Dick." Bruce growled to the air "I just need a sign, a clue, anything." He waited for a few moments, his hands poised at the keyboard like a snake ready to snap up prey, as if expecting a response. And to him utmost surprise he received one. The phone rang.

Bruce made a mad rush to get to it, excitement clawing at his belly. It was the Batcave's phone that was making the sound. Only a few members of the Justice League, all the members of the kid's Team, and Alfred had that number. And they had all been told not to call him on it unless they had information on Robin. And no one disobeyed Batman. "Hello?" he barked into the phone.

"Hello?" the voice that answered sounded small and scared. It was strangled and forced, filled with strain. The pain was evident but all in all, weak. But most importantly: it was Dick.

"Dick! Where are you? Are you okay?" Bruce's voice was filled with intense relief as it swelled his heart.

"No. Listen, I d-don't have very long. He le-let me call you one last ti-time."

"He? Whose he Dick? What do you mean?" The relief vanished instantly, replace with dreaded panic.

"He t-t-took me. He wouldn't let me leave. And n-now he's going to kill me. I'm so-s-sorry. I failed you."

"No you didn't Dick. You hear me? Now listen where are you? And I'll come save you. I promise," Bruce's voice was laced with a begging tone as he gripped the phone in a death grip. Silence was all he received on the other end of the line. No...not silence. He swore he heard low talking. But not from Dick. There was someone else with him.

"I don't know where I am," came a final answer, "B-but he said I should describe it to you," Bruce filled with rage at the thought of that...that monster was coaching Dick through this. "Th-there's blood on the w-wall. It's dark and inky, like paint. Some of its fresh but there's an older layer underneath. There's a lot of it, all over the floor as well. But th-there's b-b-body part too. F-f-feet and hands and f-fingers." Bruce felt ready to throw up. Dick was where? He was going to find this bastered who had done this to Dick. And when he did there was going to be Hell to pay! "It's cold too. S-so cold it hurts. Like it's burning into my bones." A small sob broke free from Bruce's son.

"Dick, I'm going to find you. You hear me? Don't lose hope. I'm going to bring you home."

"It's okay, Dad. I know I c-can't go home. He w-won't let me. I'm sorry I'm not st-strong enough to get out of this. I love you. Goodbye."

"No! DICK" Bruce called but it was too late. There was a sound of a scuffle, something small being thrown against a wall of floor, and a low moan of pain. Then,

"Hello, Batman. Glad you could exchange goodbyes. I also want to add my own little note. I am Deathstroke, and Hell is coming for you. I am the person who is going to destroy your birdie, and there is nothing you can do about it. Goodbye Bruce Wayne." The call ended with a click.