The basement was cold, the air thick with the musty scent of neglect and damp concrete. The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered sporadically, casting erratic shadows across the room. You stood in the doorway, gazing at the figure bound to the wall in the center of the room. Dick Grayson, the man you loved so much, was in your hand.

He stirred, groaning as he regained consciousness, his head lifting slowly. The bruises on his face were a testament to the struggle that had led him here. You took a step forward, your heart racing with a twisted blend of excitement and anxiety.

Sick, Sick, Sick, Sick, Sick! He remembered you but he was petrified that his kindness created such things. “ Where… am I?” Dick’s voice was hoarse, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He tugged at the restraints, testing their strength, but you’d made sure they were secure.

Dick’s eyes locked onto yours, a mix of confusion and anger flashing across his features. “You need to let me go. This isn’t going to end well for you.” Dick’s expression hardened slightly, a hint of anger in his eyes. “Listen, you don’t have to do this. We can find a way to get you the help you need. Just let me go, and we can talk about this.”

Dick’s gaze grew hostile, the persistence to persuade you to release him was refusing to give up. “Then you leave me no choice. When I get out of here, and I will get out of here, I’ll make sure you get the help you need. But you have to know, this won’t end the way you think it will.”

He leaned back in his chair and arched an eyebrow at you, his gaze shifting away from you towards the wall and the chains that restrained him from breaking out or doing anything. He was screwed and all he could do was grow frustrated.