Robin's eyes were transfixed on the little girl weeping next to her parents' corpses. It was his fault they were dead. But why did it feel so familiar?
Robin was on a patrol.
Cyborg was probably having a late-night snack, Beast Boy playing a video game on mute, Starfire sleeping, and who knew what Raven could be doing. But here he was, leaping buildings and hiding in shadows. No one else would ever understand how good that felt for him. It was just like old times.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek rang through the night air.
With a sharp backwards glance, he turned and sped towards the noise, his hand instinctively reaching for his staff.
A woman lay on the sidewalk just outside an alleyway, her unfocused eyes staring into the dark sky. Fresh blood streamed from her gaping mouth. A bullet wound lay prominent on her chest.
Feeling his gut clench, he slowly crept towards her.
A man and a little girl were huddled in the alleyway. Another man was grasping a gun in his trembling hands, an insane expression on his face.
His fingers curled over the blade of a birdarang.
The criminal noticed the weapon hurtling towards the gun in his hands. All eyes were on the missile.
It hit the wall with a sickening crunch. Cracks appeared throughout the stone.
A bang sounded just seconds after.
The man next to the girl collapsed; dead. The criminal was bolting away.
Robin tried to chase him. All his instincts were screaming to trail the man. However, his masked eyes were transfixed on the girl, who was sobbing and desperately attempting to wake her parents up.
The girl's hair was curly and blonde. Her moistened eyes were green, but appeared blue under the moonlight. She could not have been older than five.
Her face was now buried in her hands. The mud she kneeled in dirtied her dress. Walking up to her, he felt a wrenching pity tug at his heart. He took the girl's hand in his own, and led her towards the police station a few streets away.
"What brings you here?" asked Commissioner Williams, mildly surprised at the sight of the hero in his office.
Robin merely handed the girl to him and left without a word. The neighbourhood would take care of the rest.
He decided to cut his vigilante night short, and walked back to the Tower. Several bystanders pointed and whispered, but they meant nothing to him.
His forehead collided with metal. It was the front door. He hadn't noticed he'd gotten so far. He went in, staring straight ahead.
"Robin? Hello?"
A mechanical hand waved in front of his face. He ignored it and pushed on.
Stopping at his room, he let the door slide open. He stepped in and sat down on his bed.
Finally, his mind caught up with him.
I missed. The man died because I missed.
He realized his gloves were soaked in crimson blood.
That girl...that girl lost her mother, but it was my fault she also lost her father. All my fault...
Emotions hit him full-force.
And I let that murderer get away! Why didn't I stop him? Why didn't I go after him? Why did I miss...?
Robin never missed. Every bullseye, every target, every apple on a head...never. But he had. His birdarang struck inches away from the gun he aimed at.
What was it? What was it about that...? Oh, of course.
The girl's parents were being murdered, but all she could do was sit there and watch. Watch as the man brutally killed her mother and father.
It was all so familiar to him. Almost déjà vu.
Even though his memories had corrupted his concentration, he would never, ever forgive himself for allowing the crime to happen. The eyes of the involved would haunt his thoughts for time to come; the clouded eyes of the corpses, the deranged eyes of the murderer, but most of all, the tear-filled eyes of the orphan girl.
Now you tell me. Should this be left as a one-shot, or should I continue it into a chapter story? Reviews and constructive criticism loved.