flylikeyoufall (flylikeyoufall) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-04-01 16:27:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | dick grayson (nightwing) |
Who: Dick Grayson, Open
When: April 1
Where: Dick's house & the Huntington Beach Police Station (for anyone who cares to join)
What: Dick's not in Gotham anymore. This is a little worrying.
Rating/Warning: Low/None
Status: Open
"Um. Hi? My name is Dick Grayson, and I think I got kidnapped or something." Dick shifted the cell phone he'd found a little and peered over the edge of the... platform? Deck? - that the bedroom he'd woken up in was apparently set up on. Cool. The ladder was still propped up against the wall below. Not very good kidnappers, apparently.
"You've been kidnapped?" the woman on the other end of the line repeated, sounding somewhere between surprised and deeply concerned. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Dick shook his head, heedless of the fact that she couldn't actually see him, and tucked the phone between his shoulder and chin so he could climb down. "Nah, I'm fine. There isn't even anyone here, and this phone was left right next to the bed I woke up in. It's weird. But when I went to sleep last night I was at home. And now I'm not."
He jumped down the last couple rungs of the ladder and blinked at the nearby door. Oh. The bedroom was on a roof-thing. Cool.
"Bruce wouldn't have moved me like this and then left me alone, though, so I figured I should probably call for help." If only so B could pick up his trail.
"That was a smart thing of you to do," the lady told him, and if it was a little condescending - Dick was ten, not two - then he was willing to let it slide. "Can you tell me anything about where you are? I can send some police officers to get you, but we could use some help finding you, okay?"
Neeeeaaat, that was seriously a trapeze rig! And a whole tumbling floor; talk about awesome!
"Yeah, okay," he agreed distractedly, and padded over to the stack of envelopes and stuff sitting on one of the counters. "There's some mail here, I can just read you the... Address. Whoa."
"What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Uh. This stuff is..." Dick pulled a few more pieces over to look at, brow furrowing with confusion. "It's all addressed to me. It's like, all bills and things. I'm only ten, how do I have bills? Oh, man, am I really in California?"
Bruce must be seriously freaking out - the flight time from Gotham to California was like, five or six hours, and he didn't feel, like, jet lag or anything. How long had he been out? How long had he been missing?
"Yes, Dick, you are. Would you read me that address now? We'll come and get you and then we can sort everything out, okay?"
Oh, right. The ten-year-old obediently read out the address on the envelopes, then hesitated a second. "...Hey, miss? My - Bruce. He's gotta be really worried about me. Can you call him and tell him where I am?"
"Bruce?" The woman repeated. "Is that your dad?"
"Kinda? My, um... My parents aren't around anymore, and Bruce took me in. Bruce Wayne. You can call him, right?"
"Yes, we'll call him, I promise. Just stay on the line with me until the police arrive, okay?"
"Okay." Good. Dick turned and sat on the floor, leaning back against the island to go through all of the mail again. It was just way too weird that the person who lived here had the same name as him.