Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

Everyone who was anyone in Gotham City stood in the ballroom of Wayne Manor on a Saturday night, stuffing themselves full of hors d'oeuvres on behalf of the billionaire playboy and pretending to enjoy sedate violin music. Leaning against a marble column, Dick Grayson reflected that they were little more than chickens trussed up in a peacock's feathers. Even their loud, obnoxious laughter reminded him of the farm animals.

In the center of the room stood the man himself, Bruce Wayne, in an elegant, perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He held a glass of champagne in one hand and laughed gently at whatever the elderly man standing next to him was saying, despite the fact that it couldn't possibly have been funny.

"Are you having a good night so far?" Julie Madison appeared beside him with a swish of her silk skirt, the wine in her hand matching the crimson of her dress.

"Oh, it's okay," he replied. "It's a little boring for me, to be honest, but Bruce looks happy, and it is his party, after all." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. His social obligation, maybe.

"Yes, of course, you..." Julie trailed off, her attention attracted elsewhere. She narrowed her eyes. "Who is that woman? The one standing next to Bruce."

Bruce was still the epicenter of the party, but in the place of his elderly companion stood a woman about Bruce's age, with long, dark hair and snakelike eyes. He couldn't have said why, but there was something about these green eyes that put Dick on guard.

"Dick! Dick, come over here." Bruce beckoned to his ward. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Detaching himself from the column, Dick nodded at Julie. "I don't know who she is, but I think I'm about to find out." She flounced away, scowling irately, and he reluctantly made his way across the marble dance floor.

"Dick, this is Maria Lucette. I knew her when I was a child, and she's recently returned to Gotham after fifteen years abroad," Bruce explained. The two adults smiled at each other, and Dick raised an eyebrow fractionally. "Maria, this is my son, Dick."

"Charmed, Miss Lucette," murmured Dick, holding his hand out.

"Please, call me Maria," she laughed, clasping his hand in one of hers. Her rings were cold to the touch. "I'm afraid I've been away for too long," she said, turning back to Bruce. "I had no idea that you already had a son. He looks just like you did... Except for the eyes. Such pretty blue eyes. I assume they're from his mother...?"

"Yes, they are," interjected Dick before Bruce could explain.

"Is she here tonight?" asked Maria, looking around. "She must be a very special woman to have..." she trailed off, catching the looks on both of their faces. "Oh, I-"

"No, it's perfectly all right," Bruce assured her, laying an overly-friendly hand on her arm. "I adopted Dick seven years ago. I'm afraid I never knew his mother." Maria looked pleased by this, and Dick decided it was probably time to leave the two of them alone (for both his sake and their own), especially before Julie decided it was time to intervene.

"You'll have to excuse me," he said, not bothering to give an explanation that everyone would see through anyway. "It was so nice to meet you, Maria." He pasted on his thousand-watt smile. "Not for the last time, I hope."

"Certainly not," she laughed, and as he turned his back, he heard her whisper, "What a charming child..."

Snake.

He walked into the enormous foyer, where hung the million-dollar chandelier, thirty feet above his head. When he was eight, he had been positive that the thing would come crashing down right as he was standing underneath it. To this day, he still gave it a wide berth, walking in a wide circle around it until he reached the front door.

As soon as he exited the mansion, the temperature dropped ten degrees. He loosened his necktie and began to walk away from the house, stepping across the perfectly manicured lawn. He stopped a hundred feet away and turned to squint up at the house. In the southeast corner was his room, spanning three full windows. Most of the second floor was dark, but he had forgotten to turn his lamp off. From where he was standing, he could just see the top of the bookshelves that lined his far wall.

A soft footfall came from behind, and Dick whirled around just in time to see the grinning clown mask before its club came down on his head.

Slam.

Dick awoke curled up against the wall he had just slammed into, his entire body throbbing. He blinked a couple of times, trying to dash the spots out of his vision, and cringed as he found himself face to face with the Joker.

"Hello, Dickie," grinned the clown. "Enjoying the ride?" The van, empty except for the boy and the kidnapper, lurched again, jarring him painfully. Behind his back, a length of coarse rope pulled his wrists and ankles together, chafing at his skin.

"Don't worry, " continued the Joker. He pulled out a long knife and started to pick at his teeth with it. "You'll be home again before you know it. I'm sure your father will be willing to pay any amount of money to get his precious little boy back... How many millions is too many for you?"

"Since when are you interested in money, Joker?" Dick demanded. Behind his back, he began to turn his wrists slowly, ignoring the way it pulled at his skin. His best chance for escape would be when they opened the doors to the van, but he wouldn't be able to get far when trussed up like a pig.

"Oh, I'm not..." the Joker idly spun the knife on his fingertip. "But I know someone who is, and really, how could I pass up the chance to spend some time with Bruce Wayne's bundle of joy?" The blade fell, and he cackled wildly as he caught it inches from Dick's chest. "You and I are going to have so much fun together."

"Screw you," Dick snarled, which only made the clown laugh harder. He continued to taunt his captive, but Dick ignored him, staring stonily at the wall and working furiously to loosen his bonds.

Thirty minutes later, the van skidded to a stop, bashing Dick's head against the wall rather hard. He winced as his teeth came down hard on his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Behind his head, the van doors were swung open, and he was dumped unceremoniously onto someone's driveway. At the end lay a dark, stately country estate, and the hills extended for miles. Far to the west lay the glittering lights of Gotham, cold and distant.

Before one of them could grab him, Dick pulled his hands out of their loosened ties and swung his legs around, catching the nearest mask in the knees. He kicked off the now-useless rope and jumped to his feet, knocking the gun out of the grip of the nearest goon.

"Feisty, aren't we?" the Joker giggled. "I knew you'd be fun!" With that, he lunged, knife outstretched. Dick sidestepped it, backing away. He quickly shed the suit jacket and pushed up his sleeves, thinking fast. If he turned and ran, the Joker would be on him in no time. He could fight, but it was unlikely he'd win against the Joker and his henchmen combined, not to mention whomever might be waiting inside the mansion that lay at the end of the driveway. No, if he fought he would only get himself hurt, and possibly even found out. Right now, he wasn't Robin. He was just Dick Grayson, and Dick Grayson was weak.

He ran at the Joker, fist coiled, but before he reached his foe, his toe caught on a nonexistent rock and he went sprawling at the clown's feet. In seconds, the masks were on him again, tying him up more tightly than before.

"Not bad." The Joker stood over him, cracked, red lips stretched up into a ghastly smile that exposed sharp yellow teeth. "But not good enough. Let's go." He led the way up to the mansion, purple coattails rippling in the wind. One of the grunts grabbed the extra length of rope that trailed from Dick's bindings and looped it around his hand, and then began to drag Dick up the hill.

By the time they reached the mansion, Dick's shirt was ripped to shreds, and the left side of his face was a scraped and bloody mess. To his credit, he hadn't cried out once, only bit his lip and let the angry tears seep into his cuts and sting.

The Joker rang the doorbell, then turned back to Dick. "Perfect," he announced, taking in the boy's tattered shirt and torn face. He grabbed a fistful of his captive's hair and hauled him up to his knees. "Oh, my employer will be so pleased. But the best part is yet to come... We're shooting a video, and you're going to be the star!" At that moment, the door swung open, and there stood framed Two-Face.

"Double the trouble," Dick muttered under his breath.

The room was completely empty except for two wooden chairs. It was dusty, dank and moldering at the corners, a perfect home for rats and spiders. But before Dick could notice any of this, he caught sigh of the person in the chair, and the dread nesting in his chest cavity began to grow.

Ropes wound all around Julie Madison's slumped body, securing her tightly to the chair. Her dark curls were in disarray, and her makeup was smudged with tears. The red dress she had been wearing earlier was torn, revealing bruised and rent skin.

As soon as she caught sight of Dick, she began to struggle. "No!" she cried, straining against her bonds. "He's just a child! You can't-"

"Shut up," Two-Face growled. "I can and I have, and you can and will be quiet."

"Make me!" she snapped, and Two-Face slammed his fist into Dick's stomach, driving the air from his lungs. He gasped like a landed fish as his captor shoved him into the remaining chair and began to tie him up. Julie was silent throughout.

With both prisoners tied and subdued, Two-Face stepped away, pulling a video camera out of his coat pocket. After fiddling with it for a moment, he set it on a shelf and came to stand between his captives.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," he said in a gravelly monotone. "Hope you had a pleasant party. Too bad your girl ran away in the middle of it, and your boy soon after." He smirked, half of his face twitching up grotesquely. "I'll cut to the chase. You know the game. One billion dollars, Mr. Wayne, dropped off at 42 Chance Street. Not too much to ask in exchange for your loved ones, is it?

"We'll be ready for the ransom whenever you are, but I wouldn't delay... Every day you wait, I'll break a piece of off one of these," with a gesture to his two companions. "Let's see who wants to go first." Twitching his sleeve, a heavy silver coin appeared between his fingers. "Heads, it's little Dickie, tails, pretty miss Julie." He flicked it into the air, and as it spun, Dick closed his eyes and hoped- for what, he wasn't sure.

"Heads." Two-Face tilted his palm, showing the camera the unmarked side of the coin. "How unlucky for you, Mr. Grayson, but it's only fair. Miss Madison will get her turn soon enough, as do we all." He leaned over and brushed Dick's hair aside, his touch tender, and then reached down and began to untie Dick's arms. He grabbed the boy's left hand and held it up. "One billion dollars," he reminded the camera, and then wrenched Dick's hand back, snapping his wrist. He screamed as the bones cracked, lighting his nerves on fire that shot all the way up his arm.

"I hope to see you soon, Mr. Wayne." The video ended, and Dick swore under his breath. He'd missed what was probably his only chance to get a message to the Batman.

"Beautiful performance!" The Joker strolled in, clapping his hands. "Just excellent. Brava, Richard!" Dick glared at him, clutching his limp hand to his chest even as he used his toes to nudge at the knots securing his legs. Two-Face had let the rope go slack, seeming to assume that Dick would be too hurt and disoriented to try and escape.

Wrong.

"Just know that you're contributing to a great cause," continued the Joker, coming to stand in front of them. "What it is, I can't tell you just yet. But don't worry, you'll find out soon enough, and the whole world will know that you paid for the upcoming performance."

"Do you ever stop talking?" demanded Julie, her eyes red-rimmed and defiant.

For a moment, the Joker looked taken aback. "Well! Bruce Wayne does pick interesting companions. That's good. I like to play with my food." He bent down and began to undo her bindings.

"When my fiancée finds out about this, you're dead."

The clown looked up, and Julie hocked a gob of spit into his deathly pale face, then licked her lips clean of saliva. "I'm Julie Madison, and your days are numbered, asshole."

He stood, carefully wiping the spit from above his frozen, red grin. Then, in a sudden motion, he brought the knife down hard on the ropes, missing her legs by a hair and startling a scream out of her. He hacked at them again and again until they lay in a pile around her stilettos, and she was pale and shaking.

"Fear," he said, extending a hand out to Julie, who stared at it as if it were a spider. "It's a beautiful thing. I used to be beautiful once, you know..." he grabbed her chin, pulling their faces together. Ignoring them, Two-Face tucked the camera away and began to undo Dick's bonds.

"...And now no one will even touch me." The clown stroked her face. "You can barely even stand to look at me. Imagine, Miss Madison... Soon to be Mrs. Wayne... Imagine poor Bruce, falling into a tank of toxic waste. Imagine him, looking like me. Would you still love him? Would you still... touch him?"

Lower lip trembling, she simply shook her head, as if she could dislodge his words, that image, from her mind that easily.

Turning away disgustedly, the Joker placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a long, low whistle. Instantly, two masked goons hurried into the room with tanks of gasoline and began to drench the plaster walls with flammable liquid. Dick blanched. Surely they still needed them, surely they wouldn't lock them in this room to burn.

But then Two-Face scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder, and Dick breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least, they'd live another day. At the very least, they wouldn't burn.

All four emerged under the stars again, and the Joker paused to reconsider the mansion. Depositing Julie on the ground and dropping his now-empty can of gasoline, the clown pulled a match from his pocket and tossed it over the threshold.

The resulting explosion was so violent that Two-Face stumbled backwards, bumping Dick's head painfully against the back of the truck. He let the boy down onto the gravel, keeping a vise-like grip on his arm.

"But y-your men," whispered Julie. "They were... they were in there, you left them..." She stood with her back to Dick, hair whipping in the wind that fed the firestorm, clutching the folds of her flapping dress in two fists.

For a moment, Dick thought he saw the ghost of a grinning mask framed in a second-story window, and a desperate hand pressed to the glass. Then the window exploded outward in a shower of deadly shards, and the fire consumed everything inside.

"As much as I'd like to stay and admire this, it's time we went," called the truck driver, sticking his head out the window. "Get in so we can go before the police show up!"

Tearing themselves away from the allure of the fire, the two criminals pulled the bay doors open and shoved their captives inside. Dick tripped over the step and, unable to break his fall with an already broken wrist, crashed painfully onto his right elbow.

"Are you all right?"

His head snapped up at the familiar voice, and Dick found himself staring into the bruised and bloodied face of Roy Harper.