A/N and we're caught up, woooo!

so, i do have an idea for a longer running couple of chapters story that stems from this, but this is whumptober, i don't have time for long stories. 

also, someone commented on the 'running out of time' one, wondering about a sequel where Dick is being tortured, this is kind of that but not a sequel. i don't know what a sequel would entail, it'd be a week of standard issue reach testing and then the episode 'before the dawn', so I don't know if it's worth writing.

enjoy!

Please...

Get it out, no more, stop please

"I'm not going back."

The man was scowling, phone to his ear.

"no, Babs, it's ridiculous," he hissed, blue eyes shining with annoyance, "trust me, I'm taking the bus tonight, I'm staying in Bludhaven."

He leant against the metal pole that held up the bus shelter, a bag on his shoulders.

"look, I'll talk to you later, okay," he said. The bus wasn't there, it wouldn't be for another hour, he was just tired of arguing his case to the person on the other end of the line.

He hung up, stuffing the phone in his pocket with a huff. He looked about eighteen, maybe seventeen, tall and lean, black hair not having ben cut in a while, shaggy and drifting below his ears.

He didn't see them coming, he was busy staring at the street. This was how most of these captures went, nothing was out of the ordinary.

His phone vibrated and he pulled it out. He rolled his eyes at it, about to shove it back in his pocket-

When he saw a reflection in the screen.

He stiffened, turning to the behemoth behind him. a dark, terrifying monster leering down on him. it attacked, a punch aimed for the head, but the man dodged out of the way.

"stay still, meat," the monster said, voice archaic, "don't make this harder than it needs to be."

It wasn't much of a fight, every hit the man tried against the monster only managed to give him bruises. Eventually the monster grew bored and his arm became some kind of strange machine that shot a large staple at him that held his wrist down to the concrete.

He was knocked out, dragged away, shoved into a pod.

The problem was, The Reach had no idea who Dick Grayson was, or what his capture would set off.

Dick woke up to darkness.

The sound of computers beeping, a weird crackling in his ears, the hum of electricity was bouncing around the room.

He blinked, trying to orient himself, he was...

His hand twitched, it was restrained, tied down to the bench. He had a lockpick on him, but he wouldn't get it out till he knew what was going on and whether anyone was watching. He moved his feet, they were also tied down. He turned his head to look around, he met resistance, his head was tied.

Where was he? The last thing he remembered was...

Walking to the bus stop. he was leaving the manor and going to Bludhaven, fresh out of the latest fight with Bruce. He'd had a bag and his phone.

He'd seen something in the reflection of his screen.

He tried to remember. What had he seen? Where was he?

The strange crackling sound started again and he looked up to see someone in weirdly coloured clothes. Dick had seen all kinds of people, including those who weren't human, so he wasn't overly shocked, but it was worrying to look up at someone who seemed, for all intents and purposes, an alien.

He didn't get time to think, though, or ask questions. The person left his line of sight, crackling sounds coming from them. That must be some form of speech, was the person speaking to others? What were they doing?

He heard the whir of a machine, powering up, and then pain shot through him.

He held back a scream, jaw clenched as it ripped through him, arcing bolts of lightning, electricity searing through his skin, attacking his nerves. He fought the restraints, pulling and tugging and trying to get free.

The pain stopped, he caught his breath, chest heaving. His lip was sore where he'd bitten down on it. his head ached, pulsing behind his eyes.

He frowned, trying to think of something to say, a distraction, trying to connect a plan together so he could escape.

He couldn't, the pain began again.

And again.

And again.

Time slipped by, the edges faded, seconds turned to hours as it got worse and worse. He couldn't hold back the screams forever, and eventually his vocal chords ripped apart as he shrieked. His wrist broke as he tried to tug out of the restraints.

They didn't care, they kept going. There was no stopping. Dick had no idea why they were doing this, they weren't asking him questions, they hadn't taken a ransom video. There was no way they knew he was Nightwing, as far as they were aware he was a random teenager, perhaps they had a Wikipedia article on him at most.

He had no chances to interrogate, question, think. He could only writhe as he was subjected to pain for hours on end, days on end.

Maybe he'd have begged, sobbed, asked for mercy, if he'd had a chance.

Luthor fixed his tie, smiling as someone walked past him. Mercy was by his side, her usual bank look on her face. Perhaps he ought to program her with more lively expressions.

He was greeted by the ambassador, as expected.

"ah, you must be Lex Luthor," he said, "a pleasure to finally meet you."

"the pleasure's all mine," Lex said, letting his usual charm soak every word as he greeted the ambassador and another Reach person, likely a scientist. "I am humbled to be given the chance to see your operations in person."

"well, the Light must get a glimpse eventually," the ambassador said, "your efforts to assist us have been greatly appreciated, you deserve to see what we have done with that help."

The ambassador lead him through the ship, monologuing and explaining some of the operations of the past few months. The reach had only arrived six months ago and they were already moving quickly, captives had already been captured and experimented on with great amounts of success.

"and this," the ambassador said, "is where we keep the subjects who have shown an active meta gene in testing." He waved Luthor in, showing him a large room with pods against the walls, "these subjects will be moved to further testing shortly."

Luthor looked inside, taking stock.

He didn't expect to recognise one of the faces.

He froze, staring at the person inside. He supposed he couldn't be too surprised, there was nothing that suggested it was impossible, but nevertheless, he was shocked.

Richard Grayson.

No missing person's report had become public, perhaps one hadn't been filed. Bruce Wayne was well known for being secretive when it came to his family's personal business, understandably. However, it was also known that teenagers were prone to bouts of anger and the stereotypical 'I'm packing my bags and leaving' phase was common, even among teens adopted by Gothamite billionaires.

But even still, he was surprised that Richard Grayson could not only be captured by the Reach but also survive their testing. Not just survive but pass. Richard Grayson had an active meta gene.

How ironic. His guardian was publicly supportive of Batman, the man who, among other things, was known for removing meta-humans from his city. Luthor could only imagine the Kardashian-levels of drama that would ensue if Bruce learned of this.

He couldn't.

But also... Richard Grayson couldn't stay here. Definitely couldn't. eventually a missing person's report would have to be filed. The whole point of abducting teenagers was that they would not be searched for.

"what has taken your interest?" Ambassador asked, noticing Lex had stared at this particular boy for a while now.

"this one," he said, "is Richard Grayson. He is the ward of Bruce Wayne, a billionaire playboy philanthropist from Gotham city."

The ambassador stiffened, staring at the pod, "what?"

"he is a public figure," Luthor said, "it is not safe to keep him captive."

"no," the ambassador agreed, "he must have been mistaken as a runaway-"

"Oh, no, I'm sure he was running away, his guardian is Bruce Wayne after all," Luthor chuckled, "but Wayne will eventually cave and allow his family to be shoved into he spotlight in the name of finding his son, and when that happens your complete lack of visibility will be put at risk."

The ambassador nodded, "we could dispose of him."

"no," Luthor said, "that doesn't remove the risk." Luthor crossed his arms, stepping back from the pod, "but I have a plan that may remove any possibility of issue, if pulled off correctly."

Alfred woke to the phone ringing at one-thirty six, the moon was a sliver in the sky, the air cold, his curtains flapping in the breeze. He picked up the phone, it must be someone important if they had the number.

"Wayne residence, this is Alfred Pennyworth, what can I do for you?"

The line crackled and an altered voice spoke, "at three a.m., Tuesday, three months ago, Richard Grayson was taken from a Gotham bus stop."

Alfred was more awake than ever in mere seconds, "who is this?"

"If Bruce Wayne wishes to speak with his ward ever again he will meet me at the Gotham docks, warehouse eighteen, at four o'clock."

Alfred steeled himself, "prove you have him, first."

He knew how this worked, he'd been through this many times.

The phone crackled once more and then he heard the sound of voices in the background. He thought he could hear a defiant tone somewhere in there and then the sound of someone being hit across the face. The phone line warped with the sound of it moving through air then being placed next to someone's ear.

It sounded like someone in the background grunted an angry "talk!"

And then Alfred heard Richard's voice.

"hey Alf."

Alfred sighed, relieved, however that lasted only a moment. Once he registered the sheer amount of ragged, tired, worn out rawness to his voice Alfred lost his relief and instead was overwhelmed with worry once more.

"Where are you?"

"uh," he said, and Alfred could imagine his face, blinking dazedly, "Warehouse eighteen."

Alfred nodded, regardless that Dick couldn't see it, "are you injured?"

He heard Dick laugh, that sarcastic laugh he made when someone asked something to which he wanted to answer with 'duh'.

The phone was confiscated form Dick and Alfred heard the distorted voice once more.

"four o'clock. Or he dies."

The line cut and Alfred went to wake Bruce up.

Dick woke up in a chair, the room was dark, one light in the ceiling a door across from him. there was another chair in front of him, Dick glanced around the room for someone else.

He was zip-tied to the chair, hands behind him, but his feet were free, however.

He could escape, he knew how to get out of zip-ties they were easy. But the fact that he was merely zip tied meant whoever had restrained him didn't know he was Nightwing, they thought he was just a rich boy.

He tried to remember where he was, why he was there, but all he remembered was pain, searing through him-

Oh, never mind, he never found out where he was, he remembered everything because everything was just pain, nothing else happened.

Well that boded well.

The door opened and a man walked in, wearing a hoodie. He sat down on the chair, and dropped the hood, smiling.

Psimon.

Impossible. Psimon was in a hospital bed, comatose.

"hello there," he said, "my name is Psimon, but don't bother remembering that, it'll make my job that much easier."

Dick glared, "what do you want?"

Psimon smirked, "don't worry, mister Grayson, I understand you've been through quite the crucible the last two months," he said, "not to worry, you won't remember much longer."

Dick frowned, only realising what Psimon was saying a second before he felt the pain in his mind.

He almost panicked, Psimon couldn't see inside his mind, there was too much important information in there.

He rushed to put up his mental defences, grabbing hold of what Martian Manhunter had taught him.

He imagined a wall, a locked door, a reinforced steel structure tat no one could breach. He imagine Belle Reve- no wait, that would be suspicious. He imagined Wayne Manor.

He chanted it in his head, refusing to think of anything else. His head hurt, Psimon was attacking him without mercy. Scraping at his shields, pounding on his walls, his mind felt like it was being split apart but he couldn't give up. He'd rather end up catatonic then have Psimon get in his mind and see all the secrets he was privy to.

But it was like he'd taken a sledgehammer to his head, like he was shooting him point-blank over and over, like he was stuck tot hat table again, the electricity firing through him.

Psimon latched onto that memory, hacking at it. he shredded it to pieces, scrubbing it from his mind.

Oh.

That's what he was doing.

They were trying to make him forget everything they'd done to him so he couldn't tell anyone.

Well, if the light wanted it then he wouldn't let it happen. If they were trying to make him forget then he would do everything to remember.

But there wasn't much he could do.

Psimon broke down his defences, shattered them more like. Dick writhed in the chair as he fought it, screaming. He was down to his last shreds of defence. He imagined Haley's circus, a big top tent flapping in the wind. He drew the door shut and tied it closed.

His head was splitting apart, hot and painful. He could imagine it breaking into pieces, lava spilling out.

He rushed to real life, breathing heavy. He was still twitching and in pain from his last torture session, this was just ridiculous.

Psimon was scowling at him, Dick managed to break out a wry smile.

"you may think you're smart, boy," Psimon sneered, "but I'll break your mind apart."

Dick readied for the attack, this time he was prepared and he locked everything down as best he could.

Psimon attacked him like a wave came down upon an unknowing surfer. He could feel the cold dread inside him as he felt the next attack coming, but he didn't budge.

This time, however, he pretended to fall back a step.

He let a memory slip past, the face of the monster who'd attacked him when he'd been captured. He let Psimon rip that apart.

He kept, however, the memory of his glance at his phone, the reflection in the corner of the screen...

Psimon didn't see it, Dick didn't let him see it.

He paid dearly for that.

Psimon's attack was like a sword of fire bearing down, a poker stabbed into his brain, a crowbar to the head. Dick could hear him laughing in his ear as he set fire to his psyche, cackling as he spread gasoline across Dick's circus, a bonfire in his mind.

Dick screeched, the pain searing through him, his head pounding.

But he managed to pull himself out of the attacks. He needed a second, a moment to breathe.

Psimon was staring at him darkly, scowling.

Dick was hunched, panting shaking, sweating, ripped apart.

"stop," he croaked out, his voice was already on its last dregs before, now he was starting to feel like his throat was bleeding.

Psimon leaned forward, "I will stop when I am done."

He attacked again, this time Dick was hazing in and out of consciousness, trying to grasp onto his control, wanting to throw up his defences, but he was half-hearted, tired, at the end of the rope.

He could see Psimon, staring at him, blurry and dark. As he broke past another defence and other memory slipped out, Dick talking to Barbara as he walked to the bus stop. instead of it becoming a shattered piece of nothing before him Psimon grabbed it and twisted it. Dick screamed, a sob managing to break out Psimon plunged his hand into his head and tore out what he wanted.

The memory was still him talking to Barbara, but he wasn't at the bus stop, just walking along the street. He was jumped, captured by mobsters.

"stop," Dick winced, a tear slipping out, running down his cheek, he sobbed past his clenched teeth, "please."

Psimon merely smirked, "the sooner you stop trying, the sooner this ends."

Dick's hands clenched behind him, he grabbed hold of the bottom of the back of the chair, nails scraping the wood.

"go to hell," he hissed.

"with pleasure," Psimon hissed, "but you'll have to kill me first."

And he attacked once more, ripping and shredding and breaking apart.

Dick couldn't stop him, he let the memories be destroyed, shaking and wincing and falling apart.

But he grabbed hold of a fistful of memories, tying them up and shoving them in a chest and burying them deep, deep, deep down into his subconscious.

He didn't know how this brain shit worked, but Psimon could win this over his dead body.

He didn't wake up from the final attack. Psimon left his mind, smiling with success. He stood, put his hood up again, and walked out, Dick slumped in his chair, unconscious.

Dick woke up in a hospital.

He sat up immediately, reaching for anything vaguely weapon-like, trying to take in the room quickly.

He was grabbed by the shoulders and pushed back down, he punched wildly, managing to get someone in the jaw, the hands on his shoulders disappeared.

"Dick, calm down!"

He recognised the voice too late, he'd already flung himself out of the bed.

He stumbled and fell immediately, legs screaming. His head hurt, his throat stung, his wrist ached.

Someone grabbed him under his arms and lifted him up onto his feet, supporting him so he could lean against the bed.

"easy," Bruce said, "you're safe. Take a breath."

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing as his headache pounded.

"what..." he frowned, trying to piece everything together, "where-"

"captive situation," Bruce said, trying to get through the explanation quickly, "what do you remember?"

"uh..." Dick's head hurt again, spiking. He tried to remember but-

He was being stabbed, cut apart, torn to pieces. The pain was making him scream, making him sob, making him writhe in his chair.

He blacked out. A few seconds later he woke up collapsed on the ground, Bruce yelling out to Alfred.

"I'm fine," Dick said, "fine, all good."

Bruce looked at him, "you blacked out."

"I noticed," Dick said, reaching up to grab the hospital bed and help him stand.

"are you okay? What happened?" Bruce asked.

Dick frowned, staring into space as he tried to piece it together.

"I..." his hand drifted to his head as he winced, "did someone hit me with a pipe, what the hell..."

"you were jumped by mobsters. You were unconscious when we got there, injured. Broken wrist, some bruises, concussion, the usual."

Dick nodded, that... sounded right.

Yeah, he remembered talking to Barbara.

"Barbara called me," Dick said, "I was... walking, I remember being jumped."

"that was two months ago."

"two months? What kind of mob keeps a ransom victim for two months?"

"that's what we were hoping you could help figure out," Bruce said, "we can't find any motives, any names, no links to any mobs."

"well," Dick said, "that's not suspicious at all."

"no," Bruce said, "but you're on bed rest for another day before you get to chase clues."

Dick sighed, "Leslie's orders?"

"who else?"

"there's no fighting her," he said.

"no," Bruce said, "now get some sleep, you look ready to drop." He shrugged, "again."

Dick sighed but lay down on the hospital bed.

He'd have gone to sleep if he hadn't had a flash of memory, a moment when the light disappeared.

Everything went blurry, dark, hazy. He saw colours and a face, a strange crackling in his ears-

And he blacked out again, pain lancing through him.

He shot out of the bed when he came to, running after Bruce. There was more to this than mobsters and ransoms.