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Dick pulled over outside the theater and parked the bike, yanking the keys out to shove into a pocket, before tossing his helmet onto the seat. He moved towards the building, clicking his comms on.
“O, what’s the status inside?”
“The same as it was the last six times you asked.” Oracle's voice returned, “Radio silence.”
Dick grunted, and turned his speed walk into a jog, “And Robin?”
“Dick.”
“Fine. I’ll figure it out when I get inside.”
“Bruce said his last communication was positive.”
Dick pushed the doors open to find a number of unconscious men in green and black scattered around the front. One even was laid out with his head on the concessions counter. Bruce, or Damian had been here.
“Yes so positive he decided to go silent as he ran ahead into what was totally a trap from the Riddler.” he replied.
He didn’t mean to be so angry with Barbara, but his stomach was twisting. He’d gotten nothing since Bruce’s call for backup. It hadn’t been much of a call. Riddler loose. Robin gone on ahead. Come quickly to help. There wasn’t anything alarming about it aside from the request for help, but Damian going on ahead was rarely a good thing, especially against someone like Edward Nygma.
It was the silence that bothered him. The not knowing. They were busy, Dick knew that. They were probably not wanting to make noise, and trying to get everyone out alive. Still it ate at him. His dad and his brother needed him and weren’t talking.
Dick darted past the entry room and down the single hallway that was lined with a red carpet. The carpet was worn in places, and stained in places from years of use. Along the walls were old playbill covers, announcing different shows put on at the theater. There were a series advertising a magician coming through, the dates marked as just before the building had closed for renovations.
He tried his comms again, “Oracle? Batman?”
“The back room has the most activity registered from it.” Oracle answered, “I’ve still got static from the other two.”
“Thanks.” Dick said, bypassing the theater itself, and heading towards the backstage area.
What sounded like bright, and upbeat music came first muffled, then clearer as he slipped inside. The backstage had been turned into a display of its own. Lights flashed across the walls and ceiling in multicolored bursts, and lit old sets and props.
The main set seemed to be a magic shop, built out so that anyone entering the backstage stepped right into it. It was also larger than would fit on the front stage, answering Dick’s question of why Edward might not have used the main one instead of hiding it away. Traps, and hoops, and more magician’s hats than Dick cared to count scattered the room.
There was a display of large boxes used for different tricks that involved cutting people in half or stabbing them with swords. Batman was in the process of fighting off a series of masked goons trying to stab knives into one of the boxes.
“Batman!” he called, moving to run to Bruce’s side and help.
His mentor shook his head, taking the time to throw out a hand to the opposite end of the room, “I’ve got this, get Robin!” he yelled.
Dick slid to a stop in his tracks, turning to follow Bruce’s hand. The other end of the room was dominated by water tricks. There were handheld objects, rubber ducks, and inflatable pools. The largest of the collection was a huge glass container. It was empty beyond an irritated Robin, sitting cross legged inside.
He ran directly to the container, “Found them, O. Nygma’s got a hostage and Robin. B has one, and I’ve got Robin. Stay on the line in case I need riddle help.”
“I hate Nygma’s riddles.” Barbara said in his ear, but he could hear the note of relief in her voice at the update.
Dick stopped at the container, gloved hands splaying against the glass as he knelt to examine his brother.
“Heya Rob, this trap’s a little cliched for you isn’t it?”
Damian huffed at him, and crossed his arms, “I did not choose the trap, Nightwing.” As he spoke, his voice was muffled by the glass between them.
Dick grinned at him, the worry in his stomach easing a bit at seeing Damian more irritated than hurt. He was pretty sure this was one of those water tanks magician’s were supposed to escape from. Standing to his tip toes, he found the trap door sealed with a strange kind of lock with blinking red lights.
Still, a water trap was less worrying than his brother being dunked in acid or cut in half. Dick could figure this out, and get him to safety with the risks minimized to a cold from being wet in the chilly Gotham air..
“So how’s this thing work?” Dick asked, knocking on the glass.
Damian pointed at him, “The panel is over there, moron. If I could help myself, I’d be out already.”
Dick grinned, “Don’t tap on the glass then? It’ll irritate the birds.”
“This is not the time for jokes.”
“It’s always time for jokes.” Dick told him, turning to find a raised metal panel.
He moved around to the front to examine it. There was a blank screen with a keyboard set into the panel below it. He brushed his hand across the screen, then tapped the enter button on the keyboard.
The screen lit up and displayed three lines of text written that looked like absolute gibberish to Dick. What seemed like a random selection of letters filled each line, stumping him from the start. Below the puzzle was an entry box with a blinking cursor and the word: Submit.
Something ahead of him clinked and Dick heard a yelp from his brother. He looked up to find Damian scrambling to his feet. The bottom of the tank had begun to fill with water from an unseen mechanism.
“Now it really is a cliche.” Dick said.
“I suggest you return to your puzzle, Nightwing.” Damian said, “or I will make you into a cliche when I get out of here.”
Dick chuckled, “Okay, okay.” He looked back down at the screen, “Though I’m not even sure what this is.”
“Some kind of riddle, what else?” Damian responded, “The only hint Nygma gave was that the answer was a single word.”
“The answers to most riddles are single words.” Dick said, “This is way too many letters to be a word.”
“So it is a riddle then.” Damian said, slightly irritated.
Dick looked up at him and wished he wasn’t wearing a domino so he could glare at his brother, “That’s real helpful, Sherlock. Want to come over here and answer it yourself?”
“Would you like to be in the water death trap?” Damian deadpanned.
Dick rolled his eyes behind his mask and turned his attention back to the puzzle. The lines of text read:
W S O S S D H S N
H T U R U D T E W R F G T R A E A
A R N H O I E R
It was a code of some kind. Dick knew that much. But what kind of code? Maybe a substitution cipher of some kind? The letters moved over a certain number of times? That didn’t seem right. It was easy, but simplicity didn’t bother Dick. A multi-step puzzle still took time.
No, something about the arrangement was bothering Dick. It was more than just broken up to make lines, there was something familiar about the odd spacing of the puzzle. He just wasn’t sure what it was.
He glanced up to examine the tank Damian was in. The water level was rising steadily, but slowly. Nygma wasn’t the kind of man to set a trap that couldn’t be sprung. He lived off of people figuring out his riddles, he wouldn’t make something that couldn’t be cracked. Dick just had to find out how to read this riddle.
Bruce had quizzed him on different cipher texts during his Robin training. They turned out to be important to know for various cases. Dick had used them to crack all kinds of things and help take down different mobsters over the years.
There were a bunch he could list off the top of his head, and more he often pulled up to test. Substitution was easy, if a little time consuming to figure out by hand. A Vigenère cipher required a key Dick did not have. Any keyed ciphers wouldn’t work. Thankfully there were quite a few that didn’t require keys.
Dick tried different types of ciphers, scribbling them out on a piece of paper from his notepad first and then asking Barbara to try inputting them into a decoder online. He had her try Skip, then ROT13, and every variation on the substitution cipher. None of them came up with anything.
“Any time now.” Damian said, once the water had reached his hips.
His tone was still irritated, and not worried, but it didn’t stop a growing dread from entering Dick’s own chest. If he couldn’t figure this out Damian was going to drown. The stupid puzzle had to be easier to crack then all this. Maybe he had to look at it another way?
Was there a cipher he knew that didn’t require a key, and didn’t require him to manipulate the letters into other ones? Perhaps he had everything he needed, especially if Nygma didn’t provide anything else to help.
Dick stepped away from the pedestal and breathed, trying to think about this in a way that wasn’t so linear. The lines after all weren’t even straight, the top was, but the middle and bottom were tilted as if they were wobbly.
He glanced over to find Batman still struggling with his own hostage, having dispatched the troublesome goons, he was working his own puzzle pad, and didn’t look like he’d take kindly to Dick asking for help. He was also pretty sure Nygma wouldn’t approve either. He was on thin ice having Orical try things for him, asking Batman was probably off the table.
“Are you going to continue to waste time or will you complete the puzzle?” Damian asked.
“You know, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d stayed with Batman.” Dick told him, “When will you learn not to run ahead?”
Damian grinned at him then, “When you do.” he said.
Dick was going to get him for that one, once he had him out. He looked down at the panel again and caught something. “Hold on.” he said, leaning forward, his finger tracing the W, down to the H. “Wh...a...t. What. Oh I get it now!” he said, delighted, “A zig zag, of course!” He traced his finger down and then up across the lines zig-zagging to form a sentence: What surrounds the sword fighters arena.
“What surrounds the sword fighter’s arena. Well that one’s up your alley Robin.”
“Tt. Walls?” he guessed.
Dick input the word and the screen flashed red. The trickling water sound seemed to intensify and Dick looked up to find Damian stepping back, like it would do him some good, as the water started rising at a faster pace.
“Okay, not walls. We can do this. Rails? Or stands? Spectators? What’s so morbidly funny that Edward would use it as an answer?”
“Fence?” Barbara suggested across the line.
“Nightwing.” Now Damian’s voice was twinged with urgency, “Just try them all. One is bound to work.”
Dick bit his lip, if he tried them all the water would keep rising faster and faster. Damian was right though, eventually he’d get the correct answer. The question was would it be in time or not?
He inputted each answer as fast as he could. Rail, Rails, Stands, Spectators, he even tried Graveyard. None of them worked. Dick swore, looking up again to find Damian floating, almost at the top of the tank. The water was pouring in now, Dick could see the flow shooting upwards, cutting the water that was already there.
Dick couldn’t figure it out. He could, if he had more time. If Damian wasn’t going to die faster with every wrong answer. More time would give him the answer, but he didn’t have that. Not now, not as the water topped Damian’s head.
He ran around the panel to the glass. Damian swam forward to meet him, one fist pounding on the glass, his other hand pointing feverishly towards the panel. He mouthed something but Dick couldn’t read it. He motioned for Damian to move, before he pulled out a compact explosive and attached it to the glass. It wasn’t big enough to make anything huge, it was designed to shatter glass. Dick would let the water pressure do the rest.
Dick set it and pressed against the glass to muffle the noise, trusting his suit to handle his side of the concussion. Damian was already pushed against the opposite end of the glass, as far back as he could get. The red light on the device flashed and the explosive went off. Everything happened at once as the explosive smoked, glass shattered, and water flooded out, smashing into Dick and pushing him backwards.
A second later, Damian washed out on top of him, soaked and blubbering, but breathing. Dick’s arms wrapped around him instinctively as the rest of the water flowed around them, holding him close to his chest.
Dick sucked in air, and felt Damian’s heartbeat rapid against his own chest. He blinked and noticed red pooling and streaming in the water around them. His heart felt like it was going to stop. Damian was hurt. After everything his brother was hurt.
He sat up, dragging Damian with him, his hands already checking him for any wounds, questions on his lips, “Are you okay? Where does it hurt? What happened?”
Dick’s examination revealed little. Damian had a few cuts on his uniform, and a scrape on his cheek, but otherwise he seemed unharmed, if a little shaky.
His brother pushed his hands away with a gape, “It’s not me.”
Dick blinked at him and then looked down at himself, his eyes catching on a large shard of glass embedded in his thigh. Smaller wounds scattered the gaping one, but Dick wasn’t worried about the cuts in his uniform.
“Oh.”
“Buffoon.” Damian hissed. “I had the answer. Fencing. It is fencing.”
“Oh.” Dick said, again.
Dick blinked up at him, his head was feeling faint, maybe from shock mixed with adrenaline? Maybe from blood loss? Though, he wasn’t sure how much he’d actually lost, the water was reddish pink, but there was far more water than anything else.
“You absolute fool. You could have had it if you’d taken a few more seconds. I was fine. You know I can hold my breath for an extended period of time.” Damian was seething, but Dick could hear the worry hidden in his rebuke in the way his voice shook slightly.
Damian’s hand’s hovered above the glass, hesitant. “Batman.” he said, “Batman will…”
“Robin! Nightwing!”
Dick’s head swiveled to see Bruce moving towards him. The man he’d been working to free was running from the room, back out the exit. Dick raised a hand to wave.
“Got him.” he said.
Bruce’s scowl made him grin. From the look of things behind him, Bruce hadn’t needed to resort to cheating to get his hostage free. At least that meant Dick was the only casualty of the evening.
He tilted his head up at Damian, “Sorry I didn’t put fencing in. It’s a pretty great answer. Sword fighting surrounded by fencing.” he chuckled.
He really was feeling lightheaded now, and did chalk it up to blood loss. He sucked in a breath and found one of Damian’s hands to squeeze.
“Do not be an idiot, you would have managed it eventually.” Damian told him, his voice quiet.
Bruce was by his side then, barking orders and hovering around the glass burning away in Dick’s leg. He let the words flow over him, like the water had, mixing together as he sat there. Damian’s hand squeezed his, and then Dick’s leg felt like it had been set on fire, not the smoldering ember the glass had been.
He gasped, and tried to jerk away, but Damian had a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. His face was pale, and a little blurry. Bruce’s dark form was leaned over him, doing something to his leg, probably dealing with the glass.
“Hey.” Dick said, as his leg yelled at him again, “Wake me up in a bit, okay? O’s gonna be so mad I didn’t give her an update after that boom, and I don’t want to make her wait.”
“Night--” but Dick didn’t hear the rest of his brother’s protest as he let the black teasing the edge of his vision take over.
He woke up with his brother leaning over him again, and Dick would have guessed they were still in the theater, only Damian was in a hoodie and sans mask now. Without the mask Dick could read the worry, turned quickly to anger on his brother’s face.
“Idiot.” he said.
“It’s nice to see you too, Dames.”
Dick examined Damian’s face, reading the red tinge to his eyes, and the dampness of his hair. His eyes weren’t puffy from tears, but the red-rimming suggested he’d tried to avoid crying. Damian’s cheek had a little bandage on it, prompting Dick to reach up, and brush fingers across it.
“Sorry.”
Damian frowned, “I did not end up with glass in my leg.”
“Still.”
Damian huffed at him, “Richard, do not apologize. You saved me, from far worse than a scratch. I will get Father and let him know you have awoken.”
He stood, and paused, seeming to catch something behind Dick. Damian grinned, “And you were right, Gordon was irritated by your not checking in. You will not, however, have to call her to apologize.”
With that he sauntered off towards the locker room, where Dick guessed Bruce had gone to clean up. He didn’t have a lot of time to worry about Damian or Bruce as Barbara wheeled into view.
“Hi.” Dick smiled at her, hoping suddenly that whatever pain pills he was on weren’t making his smile floppy or his words slurred. He was feeling far too good to be medicine free.
“Don’t look so happy, you have no idea if I’m mad at you or not.” Barbara said.
Dick widened his smile, “You would have hit me by now if you were really angry, besides I’m injured, that should give me some leniency.”
“Let’s see, you stopped responding after making me run nonsense through code breaking software.” she said, holding out a finger to count on.
“It was not nonsense. It was a riddle. Who’s answer was fencing.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, “You didn’t get the answer,” she continued, holding down two fingers now, “And you blew yourself up to break the glass, when you’ve got other tools you could have used.” Three fingers now, and the eyebrow had not been lowered.
“Damian figured it out, and I’ve already been told many times how unfortunate it was that I didn’t read his lips.” Dick said, pushing back two of her fingers, to fold them back towards her palm. “It wasn’t a big explosion, and I’m mostly fine.” he said, folding her third finger back, then rubbing his thumb over her fingers.
“Would it help at all if I said it was for a good cause?” he couldn’t help but glance towards the locker rooms where Damian had disappeared.
“It would help if you promised to be safer next time.” She said, turning her hand in his to wrap their fingers together. “Though I guess the plus side of your injury is that you won’t be out for a while.”
Dick groaned and let his head drop back against his pillow, his eyes squeezed shut in dramatic effect, “How bad is it? Will I lose the leg?”
“You’ll be fine, Boy Wonder. If you listen to Alfred, that is, and don’t follow Bruce’s example.”
Dick grinned at her, opening one eye, “But my dad’s so cool. Haven’t you seen him? Everyone wants to be Batman.”
Barbara rolled her eyes at him, but a smile tugged at her lips.
“You know what this means.” Dick said, tugging her hand close, “We can have some of those movie nights you’re always talking about--”
“You’re always talking about you mean.”
Dick waved her off with his other hand, “And order in pizza, and chat. Catch up on stuff. Or I could bug you while your working on Birds stuff.”
“If Damian and Bruce let you out of their sight.” Barbara said.
“I’ll sneak out.”
“Not on that leg.”
“You’ll sneak me out.” Dick amended.
Barbara smiled at him, “Maybe.” she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek, “If you promise to take it easy.”
“I think I can do that.” Dick said, “I’m sorry, by the way. For being snappy with you.”
Barbara shrugged, “You were worried, Damian was missing. I’d have been snappy too.”
Dick ran his thumb across her knuckles, “Still, I’ll make it up to you somehow. You were a great help tonight.’
Footsteps had Barbara sitting back up and turning her head to face Bruce and Damian exiting the locker room. She untangled her hand from his and adjusted Dick’s blanket as they walked over.
“I’ll leave you to your very cool dad, who was very worried.” she said, turning to Damian, “Why don’t you and I head upstairs to get your brother’s room ready for him?”
“Pennyworth would have…” Damian started, but caught something on Barbara’s face and nodded, “That seems like a reasonable plan, he should not spend the evening in the cave.”
Dick watched them go for a moment before Bruce took the stool beside him. They looked each other over for a second. Bruce checking for anything he’d missed, and Dick checking for, well anything. And sign his delay or injury had gotten his dad hurt. Any proof of Bruce hiding anything, even a runny nose from allergies. With all his worrying over Dick, someone needed to worry about Bruce.
This time, he seemed fine. He had a bruise forming on his jaw where someone had gotten in a lucky punch, and probably a few other similar bruises dotted around, but he was otherwise okay. Safe, and sound, and with both boys who’d come to help him alive.
“Sorry.” Dick said at last.
Bruce huffed, “For?”
“You called me to help, and I got hurt.”
Bruce shook his head, “I wouldn’t have had time to go after them both. Nygma gave me a time limit.”
“Yes, but I made you worry.” Dick said.
He left off the desire to say, ‘I put that look on your face’, that worried panicked look Bruce got when any of his kids were hurt. Dick hadn’t meant to give him that, he’d wanted to keep Bruce from worrying. Wanted to keep Bruce from hurting over any of his kids.
“Dick.” Bruce’s voice was impossibly quiet as he reached out to brush Dick’s hair back from his head, “You did good tonight, Chum. Stop apologizing.”
“Alright.” he said, giving in, “If you promise to get some sleep tonight.”
“Nygma--”
“Can wait a single night.” Dick said, “Stay with me? Damian will probably want to stick close too, but,” Dick grabbed Bruce’s hand, “Please?”
Bruce sighed, and Dick could see any argument’s crumble, “Of course. Let me finish the paperwork, and we’ll move you upstairs.”
Dick smiled at him, “Perfect.” then he added, “I bet I can get Damian to bring us ice cream in bed.”
“Damian’s had enough of the cold for one night.”
“No one can have enough ice cream, you just want to protect your favorite treat.”
Bruce grunted, and stood, “And you just want to tempt everyone you can to snuggle.”
“I’m injured, B. In the line of duty. Saving my little brother. I can ask for ice cream and snuggles.” Dick said.
Bruce smiled at him, “I believe you can.”
It was with that admission that Dick found himself upstairs a little over half an hour later tucked into his bed with the stern warning not to try to get up on his own from Alfred. He wasn’t planning on moving, warning or not.
Dick was content. He had Damian snuggled into one side, and Bruce laying close to the other. They’d been supplied with (and devoured) ice cream, and with Dick’s sweet tooth cured he was ready to let his most recent dose of painkillers lull him to sleep. He tugged a heavy lidded Damian closer to him. His brother curled into his side and mumbled something resembling good night.
Bruce wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple, “Go to sleep.”
Dick yawned, “You too.” He let his head lull into Bruce’s shoulder, as he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, “Night, Dad.”
“Goodnight, Dick.”