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In hindsight, Duke thinks things could’ve gone a lot better.
A lot better. Honestly, this is just absolutely embarrassing. Duke almost swears out loud when the lockpick falls out of his fingers again. He twists his hands, leaning back, trying to find them. It doesn’t help his mood that even this limited movement pulls painfully at his horribly swollen shoulder.
His fingers brush past the lockpicks and he sighs, trying to reign in his emotions and force himself to be calm. He has no problems doing this as the Signal but he’s not in costume. No, he was actually pulled off the street on his way to a coffee shop to study with a couple of school friends. Because his luck is just that shitty.
Duke accidentally bumps into the wall and bites down on the gag shoved in his mouth to muffle the yelp of pain.
The dislocated arm isn’t making this headache of a kidnapping any better. His hand cramps, but Duke doesn’t stop. It’s been almost an hour and Duke didn’t want to stick around long enough for the ransom video, because those always end up with broken bones. One dislocated shoulder is more than enough for Duke, actually.
A bead of sweat slides down his forehead and the smell of mildew and pot really isn’t helping.
The sound of approaching footsteps on creaking floorboards snaps him out of his concentration. He hears the sound of a key turning and thinks, it’s too late, they’re here. followed by, my day’s just about to go from bad to worse.
Duke’s not the kind of person who would ever admit to being afraid out loud, but the thought of getting tortured still makes his hands shake. Dick once mentioned getting used to it after a while, and he wonders how long is “a while.”
His ribcage squeezes around his lungs and his entire body tenses when the door swings open.
Two men and one woman enter the room, dragging one Jason Peter Todd behind them.
“You got a visitor,” one of the masked men sneers.
Then, they dump Jason’s prone body in front of Duke. He doesn’t even dare breathe. His eyes linger on Jason until he notices the steady rise and fall of his chest. The sight releases some of the tension in his chest and he glares back up at his captors.
They pay him no mind, not even bothering to check his handcuffs or anything.
The perks of being the ward of a billionaire, Duke thinks derisively. They all think he’s an absolute idiot.
Duke sits there for a few moments, staring at Jason. The man looks relatively unharmed except for the scratches and bruises on his face and the blood matting the left side of his hair. His eyes are closed but Duke’s been with this family of idiots long enough to know that doesn’t necessarily mean Jason’s unconscious.
He nudges the man with his foot. He can’t exactly speak with the rag shoved in his mouth so he simply resorts to kicking Jason’s side as hard as he dares. He doesn’t move. Duke gets annoyed of this quickly and kicks him again, slightly harder.
This time, Jason rolls to the side, groaning. His cuffed hands reach for his head.
“Didja have to kick me?” he mumbles, struggling to get up on his knees.
Duke’s answer is muffled, but he hopes he conveys his “yes” well enough.
Jason’s eyes are just a bit glazed, but they instantly zero in on his dislocated shoulder. While Duke himself can’t see much, he can absolutely feel how swollen it must be.
“Oh shit, that’s a nasty one,” Jason says stiffly, shifting until he’s sitting with his legs crossed.
Duke levels him a flat look.
Jason pays him absolutely no mind as he buries his face in his hands. “Jesus, it’s so fucking bright. I hate concussions.”
He sniffs then lifts his head and squints at Duke, eyes dropping to the duct tape over his mouth.
“Right.”
He scoots over closer and peels off the tape. Duke doesn’t even wait until the tape’s fully gone before he’s spitting out the rag.
“Ugh that’s gross,” he mutters, his mouth dry and tasting like paint. He looks back at Jason. “Also. What are you doing here?”
Jason blinks, then frowns. “Rescuing you.”
Duke opens his mouth, then closes it. It takes a few seconds to find the words.
“When I called your number, you know, the one Red Hood gave me? I was kind of expecting that guy to show up” he says eventually.
Jason scowls and levels Duke with a glare. “In my defense, I genuinely didn’t think you’d been kidnapped.”
Duke raises an eyebrow. “The abandoned crackhouse didn’t give it away?”
Jason scowls. “I regret coming to save you, in case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” Duke snaps back. “Is this how you treat all the people you rescue?”
“Only the annoying ones.”
And then Jason grins and holds up his hands, now free of the handcuffs that dangle from his fingers.
“Idiots didn’t even bother tying me up right,” he explains, waving a hand in the air lazily. “I’m offended.”
Duke rolls his eyes. He’s so not in the mood for jokes it’s actually not even funny. He just wants to get the hell out of here.
“Did they say why they kidnapped you?” Jason asks, motioning for Duke to turn around.
“Ransom,” he replies. “I’m surprised they put you here with me. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually.”
Jason hums. “When I got your missed call I didn’t think anything of it. And then I found your phone. The dumb Pikachu phone case gave it away. Wasn’t hard to track you after that. Kinda got myself captured on purpose and that’s all I will say on the matter.”
Duke snorts. The handcuffs release and he has to bite back a wince when he moves his arm too quickly.
“So what’s our brilliant plan for getting out of here?” he asks, shaking his good hand to get the blood flowing properly.
“Your shoulder’s a problem,” Jason says. “I’ll have to set it.”
Duke scowls. “Oh perfect. I love this plan already.”
Jason rolls his eyes. “Quit bitching. It’ll be easier for me if you just sit still and try not to scream.”
He then rises silently and makes his way over to the door. For such a big guy, he’s seriously unfairly good at avoiding all the creaky floorboards. Still, Duke notices the way Jason’s knuckles are white where he’s gripping the doorknob. He doesn’t bother trying the door to see if it’s unlocked. Instead, he presses his ear against the frame for a few seconds.
“No guards,” he whispers, stumbling slightly on his way back. “At least not right outside the door. Still, do try to not scream.”
He very practically collapses against the wall, letting gravity drag him back down to the floor.
Duke’s face twitches. “Easy for you to say.”
Jason offers a smile. “You might want to bite down on something.”
Duke grimaces when his eyes land on the rag laying on the dusty floor.
“Just get it over with,” Duke mutters, balling up the rag and biting down on it.
Jason’s holding his arm with surprising gentleness. Still, any sort of movement sends sharp pain up his shoulder and down his side.
His arm doesn’t look good, the skin bruised black and purple and swollen around his shoulder. So swollen that Duke can’t even see the out-of-place joint anymore. His fingers have gone from tingling to fully numb which is definitely not a good sign.
“On three,” Jason says, and waits for Duke to meet his eyes and nod. “One.”
Duke takes a deep, slightly shaky breath.
“Two.”
Jason moves his arm back firmly and a clunk echoes in Duke’s skull before the world goes white. He doesn’t scream. He bites into his gag so hard his jaw pops and his teeth ache. Jason releases Duke’s arm and he immediately pulls it close to him and breathes through the intense waves of pain and nausea.
“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jason says, leaning against the graffitied wall.
Duke’s head and ears are filled with TV static. He spits out his gag and glares at Jason.
“You said on the count of three!” he snaps.
Jason shrugs indifferently. “I did. I popped your arm back on the third count.”
Duke holds the glare for a few more seconds. “Whatever. Now what?”
As slowly as he can manage without moving his arm, Duke uncurls from his hunched position. Feeling is slowly trickling back into his fingers and his shoulder aches, pins and needles poking at the already tender nerves. Still, it’s leagues better than the constant pain of earlier. At least now Duke can think straight.
“Jesus, that sucked.”
“Think we could jump out a window?” Jason asks, eyeing the only window in the room.
Whatever remains of the broken pane is covered in a thick layer of grime. The window has two boards nailed to it, but they look flimsy at best. Easy to break.
“Yes, if you want to dislocate your shoulder.”
Jason lets out a bark of laughter. “Duke, there’s an art to jumping out of a window. Maybe one day I’ll teach you.”
He reaches over to pat him on the back and Duke swats his hand away.
“Here’s a plan. We could wait for the others to come for us,” he says. “Just a thought, you know. Since I’m in here, and you’re in here, and you have a concussion and they have guns--”
“Yeah, don’t count on that.”
Duke immediately narrows his eyes. “Why?”
Jason shrugs.
“Jason. You told them I got kidnapped, right?”
No answer. Duke is this close to grabbing him by the collar of his stupid leather jacket and shaking him.
“You did tell them, right?”
“Yeah, they have no idea where I am.” Jason shrugs, as if it’s no big deal.
It takes a second for the words to register.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Duke hisses.
The only thing keeping him from physically jumping on Jason is the fact that he’d lose embarrassingly quickly with his arm still sore and achy.
Another shrug. “Listen, I’m good at rescuing people.”
Duke almost laughs. “You sure are,” he deadpans instead. “Pick a way out, then. Window or door?”
Jason narrows his eyes in thought. Then he grins at Duke, eyes glinting like he just had a lightbulb moment. And that’s the moment Duke knows they’re well and thoroughly fucked.
“Let’s make our own way out, eh?” He raps his knuckles on the drywall.
Duke is positive it must’ve been some shade of white at some point. Now though it’s an ugly mix between not-exactly-yellow and not-exactly-brown and covered in overlapping graffitis. He thinks he might be close to figuring out Jason’s brilliant plan, and he doesn’t like it.
“Right,” he drawls, deciding to humor Jason for a bit longer. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one staircase in this house. So we break a wall. What then?”
Jason seems to take that into consideration. Duke’s gonna have to ask his kidnappers just what they used to hit Jason on the head with, because clearly it also knocked a few braincells out of place.
“We go around. Look. We break through that wall--” Jason points at the wall opposite of the door “--then go through the other rooms and down the stairs.”
“I think I’d actually rather jump out of the window,” he replies flatly. “Listen. Here’s a bright idea. One of us breaks through the actual door, and the other takes out the guards, grabs their guns, whatever. And then we go downstairs. Armed.”
Jason shrugs. “My plan’s more fun but sure. Who’s breaking the door?”
It’s Duke’s turn to grin at Jason. “You, of course.”
“Me? I have a concussion! That’s not fair.”
“I don’t recall you being a metahuman.”
Jason actually pouts and Duke takes far too much pleasure in this conversation. “That’s just an unfair advantage.”
Duke rolls his eyes. “I’ve heard that one before. Let’s just get this over with.”
The plan goes wrong almost immediately.
The door gives too easily when Jason rams into it with his shoulder. Duke doesn’t hesitate before amplifying the warm afternoon light filtering through the hazy windows to an almost blinding level. It doesn’t take much to knock out the first guard and take his gun.
The other regains his senses and shoots blindly.
Despite being blind, one of his bullets still embeds itself in Duke’s side. He grunts, losing focus. The lights fade and Duke hits the second guard with the stolen gun. Twice. The guy falls to the ground, unconscious, a nasty cut on his hairline.
Duke stumbles over to where Jason is, one hand pressed to his bleeding side.
“You good?” he asks.
Jason’s pupils are uneven and he struggles to focus, but he offers Duke a crooked grin and a thumbs up.
“I have a thick skull,” he says, a slur detectable in his speech.
Duke ignores him and drags him to his feet. He stumbles, but Jason’s far too concussed to notice.
“I’m sure your skull is plenty thick. Let’s just get out of here without giving you any more concussions.”
Jason hums. “I like this plan.”
“Me too.”
Duke hooks his good arm around Jason’s middle and guides them, ignoring the way it makes his gunshot wound pulse in pain. Blood is seeping through his fingers, staining his shirt and pants.
The stairs are hell. They creak horribly loudly and by the time they reach the last one, Duke’s panting heavily, and black spots dance in his eyes.
He sways, holding the gun in a sweaty grip.
The hall isn’t empty.
The woman and one of the men from earlier are there and they both sharply look up when Duke and Jason enter. Jason’s more aware than Duke assumed because he doesn’t hesitate to grab the gun from his hand and fires two near-perfect shots. They hit the ground and Duke barely has the strength to maneuver around them on their way out, he can’t be bothered to check for a pulse.
The sun is bright when they step outside. Jason slips out of Duke’s grasp, and the loss of his weight against his uninjured side makes him stumble. He looks down at his hand and his stomach sinks at the sight of bright red staining his palm.
“We safe?” Duke pants, pressing his shaking hand against his burning side again.
“We should be,” Jason wheezes, brushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes.
“Good,” Duke mumbles, stumbling.
His legs almost immediately give out under him. He’s aware he doesn’t hit the ground, but it takes a bit longer for his lagging brain to register the fact that Jason caught him before his knees hit asphalt.
He hears someone yelling, but his head feels like it’s underwater. The world around him is muffled, and when he looks up, he sees two pairs of very bright green eyes instead of one. It takes a few blinks before Jason becomes one person again.
They’re moving, he realizes.
It pulls at his bullet wound until the world starts fading in and out and his head spins like a top.
He blinks again and he sees Dick’s face looking down at him. That’s not right, because Duke knows it’s just him and Jason.
He’s hallucinating, he concludes.
Because he’s bleeding out. This, he also knows.
He closes his eyes again when the spinning makes him nauseous and wakes up lying down. There’s a sudden burst of white-hot pain in his side and he tries to struggle away. It’s too much and there are hands restraining him and the white turns into black.
The world is a bit fuzzy and a touch too bright when Duke opens his eyes. He lies still, trying to take stock of any sort of pain, and-- there’s nothing. He’s in a bed in the medbay, judging from the endless dark void of the ceiling staring back down at him, with an IV taped to the crook of his elbow. His dislocated arm is sore and in a sling and he’s shirtless, white bandages wrapped around his abdomen.
He glances around until his eyes land on Tim, who glances up from his book. He smiles at Duke.
“Hey,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”
Duke thinks about it. “Getting shot sucks,” he says, voice hoarse and mouth dry.
Tim cracks a smile, but it looks strained and tired, and Duke swears the bags under his eyes look even darker.
“Surprised you’re not in here with me,” he says. “You look like a vampire sucked out all your blood.”
Tim's smile sharpens with wry amusement.
“And you look like you just got shot. We match, now.”
He grins and gestures to his own abdomen. He’s wearing a frayed Wonder Woman hoodie-- no doubt “borrowed” from Jason-- but Duke knows that under it Tim’s stomach is wrapped tightly in white gauze.
“You got shot in the stomach,” Duke points out flatly. “Pretty sure mine managed to avoid my vital organs.”
Tim rolls his eyes, but the smile remains. “Sure. Jason’s on enforced bedrest until Alfred says so, but he told me to tell you that he’s definitely gonna chew you out for this.”
Duke laughs, then winces when it pulls at his fresh new injury. “Yeah, sure. He came to rescue me and I’m the one who got us both out. I expect lots of thank you’s from him. Maybe some groveling.”
Tim chortles. “I can’t laugh. Alfred will kill me if I rip my stitches again.”
Duke exhales, exhaustion sweeping under him. “I could’ve settled for just the dislocated shoulder,” he mumbles.