Inbetween

Chapter Twenty Six: The Slammer

I've been writing another superbat fic and y'all I'm so pleased with it so far. I keep rereading the chapters I made and I think y'all will really like it.
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Bruce woke in a dark room; he could see the faint glow of kryptonite rocks surrounding him but Clark was no where to be found. Clark had helped him escape the fear toxin hallucination but not before warning him that Ivy or Scarecrow could've unleashed something while they were trapped. Bruce knew that there was a strong possibility of that being true he just hoped they had gotten up in time to stop whatever it was. His arms weren't tied behind his back and his legs were tied together making it difficult for him to even sit up. He sighed but crawled towards one of the walls to get some kind of advantage.

He leaned against the wall and pushed himself up with his heels. He used the wall as support and found himself standing on wobbly legs. A sharp pain struck his side but he did his best to contain the groan that threatened to escape his throat. His wrist still ached from before and he knew breaking it any further could cause serious damage. Bruce brought his tied hands to his cowl and initiated night vision.

The once dark room became a storage closet filled with old or empty cleaning supplies. The shelves had layers of dust on them and as Bruce let his eyes adjust he realized that there were no windows, a small door, and a vent just above his head. He steadied himself and started to search the shelves for something sharp to break the ropes with. He ducked down checking the lower shelves for anything. A pair of rusted scissors sat in the very back of the shelf. He used his foot to bring the scissors towards him and as much as he didn't want to he stuck them in between his lips and opened them with his teeth. He rubbed the dull blade against the ropes trying his best to make sure they connected.

He forced the blade against the rope moving his head as fast as he could until the rope snapped. He spit the scissors out and let out a heavy sigh before rubbing at his aching wrists. His mind felt fuzzy and his body burned from the toxin. Bruce tried the door but the handle didn't budge. He sucked in a deep breath trying his best to gather his strength; he kicked at the door but it didn't open. He kicked again. Nothing. He let out a frustrated groan and kicked one last time before the door exploded open. Shards of wood spread across the floor but Bruce quickly stepped over them and rushed out the closet.

The rest of the warehouse was bright making it nearly impossible for him to see with the night vision. He shut it off and kept to the walls in case someone were to walk through. He tried his comms but only got a dead tone; he reached for his actual phone even though he knew it was risky. He dialed for Alfred and after two rings he answered. Bruce kept moving as he mumbled a soft 'hello'.

"Master Bruce, I'm glad to hear from you." Alfred couldn't contain his relief, "your line has been dead for four days."

"Four days?" Bruce hissed as he ducked into the next room.

"Yes, sir, the boys and I have been worried sick not to mention Clark's parents have been calling none stop." Alfred sighed, "we've booked them a flight to Gotham thinking the worse."

"You haven't heard from Superman?" Bruce's steps were as quiet as a feather.

"He's been as quiet as you." Bruce hated that he had Alfred worried, "the rest of your team has been searching as well all while trying to handle the onslaught of guards in Metropolis. I'll inform them of your location using your phone."

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce peeked over his shoulder to see a couple of goons near the exit, "but I have to find Superman before I can leave."

"Be careful, Bruce." Alfred's tone was firm but Bruce knew better; Alfred was wary.