It had taken 15 days and 9 hours until they had found you.

When the person he trusts the most had not come home, back to the Wayne Manor where it was safe, Damian had immediately noticed. He had this sinking gut feeling, that something was wrong.

Utterly wrong.

And though he isn't foolish enough to trust some mere emotion over careful calculations, detective work, and his decade of training from the League of Assassins, the feeling did not stop. No text messages went through, no calls were answered, no matter who had tried contacting you.

No ransom was made, no lead had been found. Until yesterday. After that, it was but mere child's play to the family of vigilantes and detectives to figure out where they had kept the missing person.

"God," He breathes, looking at them- tied up in a chair, bruised and battered- and immediately moving towards you. His father had already went off to scout the other area of the abandoned building, the potential kidnappers hadn't been found. Good. Damian, for all his progress over the years, could not have promised his father to hold back if he had seen the people responsible for this.

"Hey, you need to look at me."