Dick Grayson Angst Stories

Betrayed

A/N:

I didn't write this! Nope! My friend, Lonely_Teen1106, wrote this! Enjoy!

"Ready?" I asked, my finger hovering over the small button on the side of the suitcase. He looked over at me and nodded. I pressed the button and the suitcase opened, and we looked with aw at the contents. 

"You know where you're going, right? I don't want to send you if you're not going to be safe," he asked with a concerned face. 

"I know what I'm doing, Dad. I won't lose it, that's why we have the handcuff," I reassured, pointing to the metal cuff around my left wrist, the other cuff around the handle on the case. I closed the case and headed for the door. 

"Be safe!" he said as I closed the door. God, I love that man but he's so over-protective. I guess he had reason to worry, because I didn't see him that night. I walked down the street onto the clean pavement. 

This was a safe neighborhood so I didn't think except anything like this to happen. As I was walking I saw a kid at the end of the street. He was riding a bike and dressed like my dad. "Hey, Batman." I called to the kid.

 He smiled, but it wasn't for a couple seconds. At first I thought it was because it took him a minute to tell what I said, but that was changed when I felt a shrill sting in my neck. I could feel the pain shred through my body and I began to shake lightly before blacking out.

 It was a Taser, I'm sure of it. It was a higher voltage that I've ever felt before, but I can tell what a Taser feels like. I awoke in a dark room. Everything was fuzzy and there was a bag over my head. The air was thick because of the bag.

 All I could really tell was that I was tied down to a chair. There was a strap around my chest, one around each ankle, one tying my right arm to the arm of the chair, and one tying my left arm to something to the left of the chair.

 "Well, well. Look who we have here?" I heard a voice say. I heard footsteps too so I think they were walking around in front of me. I recognized the voice, but I don't know where it's from. I felt the bag get ripped off my head, jerking my head backward. I couldn't see who took it off, but I could see where I was.

 It was a dark, concrete room with a single overhanging light with what looked like blood and graffiti staining the walls. My hand was tied to a table to the left of me through small holes in the table, letting three zip-ties through to secure my hand. The suitcase was next to my hand on the table.

 I tried to look behind me to see who it was, but they already made their way in front of me. Instead I saw a table with various things on it. I couldn't make anything out before I looked in front of me and was shocked to see who it was. 

"Roy?" I muttered in disbelief. 

"Surprised?" he said, taking a bow. He was wearing a tux and a hat, looking clean and nice, seeming inappropriate to the setting we were in. 

"Where am I? What's going on?" 

"Where are you? You are currently in a small cement room in a warehouse. What's going on? You're asking stupid questions," he spat in tone of disgust. I was torn by, well, everything in that moment.

 "I think you know why you're here so let's make it short and sweet. Just give us the code to case and the key to the handcuffs so I can be on my way." I was appalled with his response. 

"Over my dead body!" I spat. A look of rage overcame him. He went behind me to grab something off the table, and I was too scared too scared to look. He came back out in front of me without his hat and with a gun in his hand. He spoke again, but this time with rage. 

"I'll ask you again, Richard. What is the f***ing code and where is the key?!" I closed my eyes with fear, but I wasn't giving up that easy despite how hurt it made me. 

"Screw you! You can cry me an ocean, and leave me be!" I spat. He screamed with rage before firing the gun in the direction of my head. I thought I was going to die, but he shot the wall behind me. 

I know it was on purpose because he threw the gun down and went to grab something else. I heard rumbling, more like roaring, the kind you hear in a chainsaw. I heard a faint whisper in my ear. "I'm so sorry," before there was a shrill pain in my left wrist.