Chapter 1: Chapter 1

I'm only going to say this once, I don't own this stuff, I'm not in charge of DC.

I have always wanted to do one of those 'five times' things, so here you go. This will consist of five parts, and a chapter will be posted whenever I get it done till it's over.

Keep in mind, that in this chapter Richard doesn't know Bruce is Batman, he is new to the manor. He will be older with every chapter though. I realize this might be better suited in the Comic Batman archive, but people are nicer in this area of fanfiction and I know the YJ archive has enough Batman and Robin fans.

Age 8: You always remember the first.

The sound echoed as the hefty man strode into the room, his face covered by a ski mask and a pump-action shotgun at his side. His footsteps were steady and nearly covered the sound of distant traffic. He spit a blob of well used chewing tobacco on the concrete floor before turning his attention back to the kid tied to the chair in the middle of the room, slouching in his restraints like a slack puppet.

"You awake?" He got no answer, but the kid stirred and let out a feeble groan. "Poor Brat. You got all sorts a hell comin' atcha."

Richard didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got there. He didn't know why his head felt like mouth felt like led. And though his head was too fuzzy to tell left from right, one thing was for sure, Richard was fucking terrified, scared to the point of dead silence. This wasn't the manor, this wasn't his room, and his guardian was no where in sight, or in Dick's case, earshot.

Roped dug into his wrists and held his arms to the back of the chair, along with his feet to the legs. A sweaty black blindfold covered his eyes, but even he found the fact that he wasn't gagged odd. Did they want him to scream? He was still only barely conscious, and too scared to make a peep.

It probably wouldn't do him any good, he reasoned. If he was in earshot of somebody, he would be gagged. Dick took a deep breath, and tried to steady himself.

"Yo, Kid, Tony's got some bone to pick with you, better whip up some puppy dog eyes real quick here." The man taunted, but still Richard was too shocked to even yawn.

The name, however, struck. It poked into Dick's chest and pressed against his lungs. 'Tony Zucco. He's behind this.' The boiling pit of rage in his stomach threatened to explode at the thought of the man, the man that quite literally ruined his life only four months back. What was Tony planning to do?

It was a stupid question, even Richard, only a child at the tender age of eight, could tell that the man wanted to finish the job. The job he started back at the circus, when he sabotaged the act and Dick's whole family fell.

His eyes grew wet and tears bled into the blindfold. He pulled against his restraints subconsciously as if they'd be loose enough of to get free this time. He sniffled and fought to keep down whatever lingered in his stomach. The situation didn't seem real. This stuff only happened in movies and novels, not to real people, Dick told himself.

The kidnapper, clearly a member of Tony's gang, walked to Dick and exhaled, sending a puff of newly lit cigarette smoke into the child's face, making him cough feebly before the gas disbanded, telling Richard just how big the room was. He could hardly smell the smoke anymore. He was in an open area.

"No screaming, right? Good, makes the job easier on me. I hate hearin' 'em scream." The man said casually and flicked some ash of the end of his cigarette, acting almost like he wanted Richard to speak back.

Of course, Richard was still too petrified with fear to answer, or do anything more than pretend to be tough and sniffle and claw at the rope digging into his wrists.

'Bruce.' He called out in his head, hoping the man would arrive any minute and whisk him away and find some way to fix everything. Thats what adults did, or, tried to do in most cases. Richard and Bruce weren't exactly on best-friend level, but over the past two and a half months they had bonded, forming a silent friendship, kinda like a family relationship. Not enough like a family relationship to replace his momma or papa. Dick wouldn't let that happen.

Bruce just had to save him, he probably already called the police and looking for him. Or, so Dick told himself. In all reality his guardian, being the busy individual he is, might not have even noticed his wards absence. Alfred might think he was still in bed, too, but he wouldn't think about that. It hurt to think no one might've noticed yet.

All the extra variables and 'what if's made his head spin. Richard didn't even know if it was night or day, or how long he had been there.

"Hey, Kid." His captor poked him with the end of his gun, and even if it wasn't made to be threatening, it caused the eight year old to let out a strangled sob. A gross sob, the kind that shake your whole body so hard you're teeth hurt. "Woah! Kid," The masked man started, realizing his mistake, "don't ball like that, you're reminding me of my nephew, don't remind me of my nephew."

Dick heard the man move, and next thing he knew the man was lifting the blindfold off one eye and trying to shut him up.

At Least now, Richard could see, even if only out of one eye. The man, his captor, had a ski mask on, a cigarette in mouth, he looked about middle aged, slightly overweight, and really run-down. Haggard. His eyes showed that inside he was a tired man.

Richard sniffled again, his sobs dying down. This wasn't soooo scary.

The cement and asphalt interior told him he was in a parking garage, clearly one out of use, and in one of the upper levels. If he wasn't mistaken, he was in the old (out of use) one by the factories near the docks and down the street of the free clinic. Light poured over the little half-walls creating the edges. It couldn't of been any later than ten am, and Alfred and Bruce had to know of his would both be flipping their shit right now, he knew. They had to have been, Dick just might crumble in on himself if he found out they had forgotten about him or something like that. It was an irrational fear.

A little bird flew through the garage.

"Better?" The middle aged man asked and Richard nodded, releasing his captor wasn't all that scary.

"Can't believe Tony's doing this." The man said, more to himself than anything. "I do wish the best for you, I don't know why Tony feels the need to finish the job, he practically already got away with it."

The words weren't comforting at all, but it let Richard know this guy probably wouldn't kill him, but he didn't doubt he'd let someone else do the deed.

"Bruce." Richard dared to call out, this time out loud, letting his voice echo hopefully through the garage. He wanted nothing more than to go home, he hated being kidnapped, and he really needed a hug, preferably from Mom or Dad, but any familiar face would due. Birds chirped from outside, and the overweight gang member sighed and face palmed.

"Bruuuuce." Tears grew in his eyes again as he prayed for someone to come.

Someone did come, though it was the person he wanted to see least. His breath froze inside his lungs and he needed to remind his heart to keep breathing as the pattern of fancy shoes hitting stairs and then cement came. Tony Zucco himself showed, strutting proudly with a smirk, along with three other guys, presumably from his gang.

Richard couldn't help but feel pathetic when he let out another shuddering breath and more tears. 'You have to stop crying, you're too old for crying.'

Dick's one free eye glanced at his foe. Tony was in most of a cheap suit, the jacket removed and pit stains already formed due to the early morning summer heat, a common thing in gotham. "Hey, Zucco, you sure about this?"

"Completely." He strode over to Dick pulled out a switchblade, dull and made more for show, but it could still inflict damage. He leaned down close, his coffee breath all Richard could smell. "Now listen here brat," he began quietly with a placid voice. "I always finish a job, ya hear?"

Inside Richard head he ran through a dozen different profanities that would fit the description of the man in front of him.

The men gathered behind their boss as if this was rehearsed. "You're going to do something for me. You should be six feet under, but you're not, and to make it up to me. You're gonna call up your guardian and ask for a few million or so, or else I'll poke," he motioned to a handgun sticking out of his pocket, "or shoot a few holes in ya, ya hear?"

His head bobbed in agreement, though something in the back of his head was telling him now was a good time to scream. Scream like a banshee, scream so loud everyone's ears split. Instead he just wet his lips as Zucco fished around in one of his suit pockets.

"Talk sweet now." Zucco pulled out a cheap little flip phone and pressed a few buttons before shoving it up to Richards ear. Richard just nodded again.

Someone picked up on the second ring, unlike how the phone usually rings till the third or fifth ring. It made Richard think he was waiting for a call like this. "Hello, Wayne manor-"

"It's me." Richards voice sounded weak and shaky, yet it came through stronger than most children would in this situation. A few of the gangsters began tapping their feet.

"Good Heavens! Master Dick, where have you been! We are worried sick, We have the authorities here and looking all over gotham-"

"I'm with Tony Zucco, put Bruce on please Alfred." Richard surprised himself with his ability not to stutter and remember his please and thank yous.

There was rustling through the phone line, muttering too.

Only second later, Alfred passed the phone to Bruce, and before his guardian could start talking, Richard did.

"Bruce! Zucco has me, he wants money, like, a couple million or something really really big. This is scary-He's mad I'm not dead! I'm at-" The barrel of a gun pressed against his temple, stopping him from giving away where he was, or, at least where he thought he was. His breath hitched and tears spilled over again.

"Kiddo!? Richard, hang on, relax, we're doing everything we can, I'll have the money, I need to talk to Zucco, I'll have it wired to his account, but I need to talk to him." Even the sound of his guardians voice calmed him down a bit.

Dick gulped and almost pleaded the man to talk to him more. "Sniffle... Okay Bruce." Zucco took the cell phone back.

Richard didn't follow what they were saying to each other at first, it was directions on how to give the money, but to the end, a few things stood out. "Every moment I don't get the money, he bleeds Mr. Wayne. You have till two, and if the money ain't in my account, he gets it."

"Don't lay a finger on him." Bruce's tone was icy and he sounded near murderous. Tony just closed the flip-phone and gave a dog-ish smile to his crew.

"Alright fellas, Reece is gonna call us on the other cell as soon as the money is there." He handed the flip-phone to a gang member. "Destroy it." He wasted no time in chucking clattering over the edge.

"You better hope I get a call soon, brat. It's nearly eleven already, and wiring money through accounts takes a while." The danger of the scenario sunk in once again, and with the new wave of fear there was a distinct feeling of rage in Dick's throat. Who does this guy think he is? What is his malfunction, this whole thing was just asinine. He wanted to tell his kidnappers that, but settled for shaking his head till the blindfold was off both eyes and giving them a death stare with icy blue orbs. Judging by the chuckle he received, it wasn't good enough.

He really needed a hug. He needed a comforting voice, a reassuring gesture. Instead Zucco pulled out the switchblade again, and simply held it in his hand till Richard stopped staring and forced his eyelids closed, refusing to open them.

He didn't know how much time passed in silence. It could've been twenty minutes, could've been an hour, but Tony Zucco grew bored. "I believe it is time to draw a bit of blood, nothing too drastic."

Dick's eyes snapped open and his heart hammered through his ears so loud the men closest to him had to have heard it. "No, no no, please don't." Richard pleaded tightly as Tony pushed the hand with the knife closer to his face. He struggled.

The man half snickered, a few of his groupies following lead and laughing themselves. Dick only reacted out of instinct, and bit the mobsters hand, clamping his teeth down as hard as he could and not letting go, not even when he tasted blood or felt a new loose tooth.

"You little shit!" Tony barked. His men backed up a bit at his outburst. Zucco brought his free hand, formed in a fist, and brought it down upon the child's head with one swift motion. The strength behind the punch rattled his teeth. "Brat!" The dull knife whipped across Dicks face, making his original captor, the one with a nephew, cringe and Dick nearly fall over in his chair.

The child coughed.

"You're gonna regret that." The mobster growled under his breath with feral, rabid sounds. The man took a few steps back and looked to see the damage inflicted to his hand. "Ya got strong teeth kid. A good bite."

Little dribbles of crimson leaked from a gash on Richards forehead, soaking through the blindfold and dripping into his left eye. He was quite literally seeing red. The knife, cheap and the kind of thing you'd see in movies, had torn and ripped more than sliced, and if Dick was correct, that was indeed better than slicing. Less blood.

Still didn't make it hurt any less, but out of every time to be brave, Richard chose now. He didn't cry or scream, he didn't even look Zucco in the eye. He kept a defiant look as Tony raised the knife again, this time bringing it to his neck, by his ear, causing an intake of breath out of his gang members, each beginning to fear he was taking this a bit too far.

Zucco grabbed Richard's face with rough fingers and tried to force him to look at him, but to no avail. The kid refused look him in the eye, he seemed to be

more interested looking at the half wall to the side and the dead cigarettes on the asphalt.

"You. Dirty. Gyp. Look at me you son of a bitch!" Zucco backed up a bit, restraining himself and cursing some more. His hand reached to his pocket a few times, but he was yet to grab what lay inside, knowing he couldn't kill him if he was for ransom. "You're... You will regret all o' that kid."

"Regret what?"

Then suddenly the shadow of another dwarfed Zucco's, shading the specific patch of flooring Dick had been paying attention to.

"I told you not to touch him." Richard's face lit up and Zucco's dropped, how did he get here? He didn't know, but Bruce Wayne was behind him seething with anger. He looked beyond pissed, elevated three, four times past that.

All four of Zucco's men attacked, growling like dogs. Two pulling out guns, one a knife, and the overweight one staying back but holding up his fists. Bruce, grabbed one, and twisted his arm in a weird angle till he dropped the knife, it clattered to the ground as Bruce delivered a swift kick to the head and knocked him out. One man shot, the sound bounced off the walls and swam in Dick ears, but the bullet missed over his shoulder. Bruce grabbed him by his collar and through him at the other, he jumped on them and through the guns away at once, then bashed their heads together, rendering the two of them unconscious and limp.

The older one hardly put up a fight, Bruce kicked him in the head, punched him in the stomach and tossed him aside before looking to Tony Zucco, who was sweating like a pig and about to run. One man... four of his men. He didn't believe it.

"Holly shit!"

Richard had never seen his guardian like this. Sure, he had noticed Bruce was in great shape for a billionaire and looked damn intimidating, but this was new. This was rage, and true power. Power Dick had wanted so badly after feeling so weak.

Tony Zucco never stood a chance, Bruce was on him in seconds, holding nothing back. There were short grunts and a few hollers before he too dropped to the floor, holding his head and falling silent. Dick could hardly take his eyes away from the mess of men on the floor.

After a minute of catching his breath, Bruce turned back to Richard, who was panting with blood dripping down his face and tears in his eyes. He looked wrecked, a dear caught in the headlights. Bruce knelt down and took one of the knives that one of the men dropped and used to to cut the ropes restricting Richard to a chair.

Bruce pulled the child into a tight embrace the moment he was free, for once enjoying the physical contact. Dick melted and cried into his shoulder, muttering incoherent little bits and pieces over sirens.

"Shhhhhh. Kiddo, it's all right, you're safe now." Bruce examined the cut on his forehead before deciding it wasn't serious and then rubbed little circles in his back. He was so worried, worried like he never had been. "I got'cha." The police were here, he could hear them coming up to this level.

Richard wiped his face, getting blood snot and tears all over his sleeve. "Never again, Bruce."

"Never again," Bruce agreed.