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Tim woke up tied to the chair. He rolled his eyes. He had been abducted twice in the previous three months, and it felt similar. He was even gagged. It wasn't funny anymore. Dick and Cass were enraged the last time he was abducted. This was the last time he saw the kidnappers. He wasn't stupid enough to ask what happened to them. He likely didn't want to know. He was then lucky enough: Bruce was in space on mission, Damian was with Jon; Jason was on mission.
Tim tested his ties and was taken aback to find that they were sturdy. Screw this; they weren't amateurs. The bright side was that, hopefully, he wouldn't be shot in the head at the first sign of trouble. His family wouldn't allow him to pass away, he can believe. All this trouble because he wanted coffee. He needed a strong drink; management was the most stressful thing he had to deal with today. They were complaining about a ridiculous thing, like always. He has excellent thoughts, but nobody takes him seriously.
Some guy walked in. Tim's breath shortens when he recognizes a familiar face. He tried his ties again, but they haven't moved anything. Tim was Wayne, and they controlled this city, so he had to act bold. Tim held his head high with pride. Alan simply snorted and gave Tim a backhand to the face. Tim flinches, but then stays still.
The man pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed the number. The phone rang a few times before it dropped. Tim had a short thought, wondering how much they think he is worth. Alan was another young CEO of the business. Alan received all of his belongings after his father passed away. He became the second-youngest CEO of Gotham after Tim. At only 25, he was older than Tim by 8 years.
When the phone started playing some melody, Tim was prepared to hear his dad's voice through the phone, angry and desperate to find him. He was, however, wrong. "Hello Marcus," Tim frowned, not recognizing this name. "It is a pleasure to hear from you. I have something interesting for you." Pause; he was probably hearing an answer. "Yeah, it's been a long time. Do you maybe recognize the name Drake?" Alan asked, and he reached his hand to Tim's cheek. "Well, he's now Wayne's pet." Again, screw you. "Remember young Timothy? You know I like easy deals; you can get him for, let's say, $20,000? Great. I don't care what you do with him; I want him off my tail," he said, staring at Tim. Alan hung up on Marcus after a brief conversation. Then he turned to Tim with a grin. "You've been sold, Timothy. Congratulations. But Marcus is a decent owner, and he won't ruin you too much before the auction." Fucking hell, no. Was he just sold to human trafficking?
All of this is a result of Tim having to verify his finances before accepting an agreement from a business. Tim disagreed with Alan's repeated pleas. So now he's going to be sold. He can only imagine the rage among his relatives.
.......
After several hours of Tim being by himself, something occurred. Where was his family? The door opened, and two men came. Alan was the first one; the second was a taller one. He was almost as high as Bruce, with the figure of Richard. Tim's chin lifted to look at the man as he drew nearer. The other hand tightened his hair. Tim had a brief thought: he needed a haircut.
A man looked at him with a penetrating gaze. Tim tried to back away, but there was no way he could get more than an inch away. "I expected something else from Wayne." A baritone voice said. "But you were right. He is indeed pretty." Tim didn't like the start of objectifying.
Alan came closer. "He would look perfect in your collection; some people would pay a fortune for him."
"That would be such a waste." Man disagreed. "He's prettier than any of my current chicks. He would fit better in my cabinet." Tim understood the subtext, but he didn't enjoy it. For seriousness, when was his family? He felt a single tear in his eye. "Would you be my sweet boy or more of a naughty bitch? I can work with both, honey.". The man turned to him. The man slowly pulled the gag. Tim didn't hesitate to spit in his face. With a knife in his hand, Alan moved closer, but the man motioned for him to stop. "Let me introduce myself, honey. My name is Marcus Falcone, the nephew of Carmine Falcone. It's likely that you've heard of him. I understood your insolence, but it is ending now, Timothy." Tim just froze after hearing a name, trying to find the best way to get the hell away. "From now on, I expect you to refer to me as Master, understood?"
"And if I choose not to do that," Tim asked, feeling instantly guilty when he saw men take the gun's safety off and put it in his mouth. The gun felt like it was long enough to reach the very end of his throat. Tim was terrified but told himself to survive. Screw you, Bruce, and the fact that he was the only member of his family who wasn't a viligante "because he didn't have what it takes."
"I blew your fucking brain out and fucked your corpse; how about that, honey?" The man-Marcus said: Tim felt the single tear coming down his cheek. Great, now he cried even if nothing had happened yet. Marcun made a gesture, and Alan quickly untied him from the chair. But he was still tied up by his hands and legs. Marcun threw him over his shoulder, causing Tim to make a short squeking sound. Marcun led him and them to Limo, where he finally placed him in a seat. He told the driver to go and took a sip of champanage.
"Boi, come here to sit on my knees." The man dared. When Tim hadn't moved, he rolled his eyes, pulled out his gun, and pointed at the younger boy. Tim slowly got up and came closer. Marcun grabbed him hard when he came within reach and placed him on his lap. One hand holding a glass, another on his back holding a gun. The man put down the glass and started to pet Tim's hair. Wayne was embarrassed and humiliated. He just wanted to get home, sleep for another week, and be free of this predicament. His dream didn't come true. Marcus finally stopped petting his hair and came down. He touched his cheeks, nose, and neck. He put his hand around the boy's neck as if he were going to choke him. Tim inhaled deeply, but the man's hand continued to descend. From his chest to his belly, and from his hips to his intimate areas, where he ultimately rested. Marcus seemed to be enjoying a leisurely ride. Tim made an effort not to cry as Maruc's mouth gently kissed his neck. Sadly, he failed.
The man's face moved away, and he wiped away the tears with his hand. "You're even more pretty crying like that, y'know? I wonder how you would look if you were crying from pleasure. You're lying naked among my sheets; beg for more." Tim was trying to get away. More tears start to fall.
With his voice raspy from not drinking enough water, Tim uttered, "I'm not your fucking toy." Marcus chuckled like he expected that. His hand got back on Tim's hip. With total ease, he reclined in his seat. "You're cute. I like when they are fighting."
"My family will fucking tear you apart," Tim said. The man didn't seem impressed. The Wayne family had twice the power than Falcone's. Not even mentioned the bats. "They will find you, and when they do, you're a dead man walking."
"Really. It didn't come to my attention that they were looking for you. I mean, look around. There is not a single cop who passes us. Damian and your father were seen today in the restaurant. Maybe they give up on you, huh? Maybe you're not that important. Everyone knows you're only Wayne Doll." Tim started fighting even more now; it couldn't be true, right?. Marcus finally ran out of patience. Tim was forced to look at the older man as he caught his face. "You're pushing me, honey. When we get back home, you're going to pay." Tim felt a chilly shiver.
The vehicle stopped. Tim was drawn to some big building.Marcus didn't stop till they got on the fourth floor. He pushed him through some doors.
Tim fell down on his back. "I obviously made a mistake when I assumed you could be a good whore. I'm going to be more than happy to fuck some manners into you. When I'm done with-" The man stopped his monologue. Marcus was looking at something in the room with a face full of fear. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
"Rumor has it, you bought a little birdie." Tim relaxes with the voice of his older brother. The voice was mechanical, but Tim always recognized Jason. Red Hood sat in the chair, visible to the youngest, when he leaned back his head and looked past his bangs. One of the cons of Hood was that he couldn't see Jay's face.Marcus, faster than anyone expected, pulled a gun and shot at the Red Hood. In the midst of the mayhem, Tim was dragged to stand. Marcus grabbed him by the waist and held a gun to his head.
"And how's that any of your problem, Hood?" Tim could finally see his brother in full unison. The tight line of his body was clear to his family.
"I don't like anyone messing with kids; you should know this by now." Hood didn't pull a gun. Tim was worried, but he knew Jason himself was a weapon.
"He's seventeen; he's not much of a kid anymore. But if you want to fuck him, I'm willing to share." Marcus slowly said, Tim felt a breath in his ear. He can't recall the last time he felt this afraid.
"Babybird, you're alright?" Tim took a second to recognize that someone had asked him anything, but he nodded "Back to the topic. Let the kid go before I lose my patience." Marcus gave a snort and opened the door they had originally entered. The surprise on his face was clear when he saw Batman standing there with a murderous face. The hand on his wrist tightened.Marcus moved them away from the door to almost the corner of the room. After entering, Batman shut the door. Jason took off his helmet. The recognition showed on Marcus face.
Bruce took off his mask, reveling in his civilian self."Hi, sweetheart," Bruce said to him, and Marcus had a pure horror expression. Finally, he understood what he had done. He didn't only take Wayne's son; no, he took the Dark Knight's son.
"Hi dad," Tim's voice croaks.
Jason showed up in his vision."Kid, close your eyes." Tim was done like he was told, and the next few minutes were horror. Marcus hand left his wrist, and he fell down, but someone caught him. He could hear shots and the clatter of the sword. Did Bruce or Jason even have a sword?
"Shh, Timmy, you're okay. Keep your eyes closed for me, alright?" Dick's voice revealed he was the one holding Tim. His ties fell down, and Dick started to hold him up in the bride-carry. The sounds began to decrease in volume as much as they were moving away.Tim held on to his oldest brother for his life. He was finally safe, and he didn't want to ever let go. He carried him into the vehicle. When Dick sat down, Tim was sitting on his hip with his head in the neck. The older brother was singing, underbreath, some lullabies. He kept his eyes closed, even if he didn't need to anymore.
The only reason they wanted it (closed eyes) was because they would probably commit a massacre. Soon he fell asleep.
Tim smelled coffee when he woke up. He followed the scent with his head and heard several others laughing.
"I told you coffee would wake him up.""Maybe because you almost pushed this into his nose, Jay!"
"Boys please"
"C'fee?" Tim poked his head out from under the blanket to inquire. Another round of laughter resulted from that. He looks around the room with his head out of it. It appeared to be a movie theater within the manor. He was wrapped up like a burrito in Dick's arms. Jason was seated across from them, holding a cup of coffee. Bruce was standing there, grinning reassuringly, while Damian was painting on the rug. Cass was looking at the doorframe.
"Here you go, babybird." Jason helped him take his hands out. He took a sip of the perfect cup of coffee and put his head back on his brother's chest. "You scare the living shit out of us today."
"S'rry"
"It's not your fault, sweetheart," Bruce interrupted. "But we need to talk. Jason and I heard some disturbing things this man said. And we need to know if"
"He didn't do anything." Tim interrupted. "He only threatened. Maybe he got a bit handsy, but he didn't do anything at all." It didn't light up the mood in the room. Jason looked like he could kill someone. He probably already did. "He told me you weren't coming for me. What took so long?" He asked. Bruce winced, and Dick's arm tightened. Jason and Damian had an angry expression.
"Of course we will always come for you, babybird. We just have a few problems to take care of; nothing wrong." Dick placed a kiss on his head. Bruce sat at the table across them and put his hand on Tim's knee.
"When we found out you were missing, we tried everything to find you," he tried to convince him.
"Yeah. First, the guy who kidnapped you started talking, but not so fast. Then we have to go to the other side of the city just to find out from another guy that you were just sold. We obviously killed him, but God, that was a race," Jason added. Tim was surprised to hear that there were more than two kidnappers.
"
You should not worry, Timothy. We took care of everything and everyone. As far as people know, Red Hood was in a bad mood, and Bruce Wayne just got M.Falcone control." Damian said.
"Bad people. Dying. Slowly. Pain." Cassandra gave him a smile. Tim finally could close his eyes, knowing he's safe.
After all, he was one of the princes of Gotham, and his family had a special pact with the devil. He was theirs, so he couldn't leave. Never.
Somehow it didn't sound that bad.