mm. well, here is basically my crappy story.
(c) all character belong to DC comics.

When you thought of a hero, you would think of him. A leader, the one everyone looked up to, someone to give you advice or rescue you or rescue the city.
And if something went wrong, it would all go tumbling down on his shoulders. Sad fact, but it was the sad truth. But that was just the way Richard wanted it. He wanted to be the one people looked to in their time of need. He wanted to be the person that was always trying to save the day. It was his job. It was his heroin. And he was addicted.

"Friend," A soft voice just barely passed and seeped through the door that was obviously closed, as usual, and made it's way into Richard's ears, stiffening his back, "Friend you must come out and enjoy the movies of we watch at the nighttime."
The voice was gentle, soft, calm, kind. Yet, irritating and causing him to loose track of what he was doing. The papers that were sprawled along his desk and just barely off the desk seemed to become nothing but blank papers. Blank newspapers with no articles. No headlines exclaiming the news that he had been searching for.

He simply sighed.
"Not now." He tone was more bitter than sympathetic; something he wanted it to be so he wouldn't hurt her feelings, but it was just the way Richard was. Lying came easy with the big things, and with the little things, not so much. "Maybe later." He added, almost feeling the joy lift up her heart.
"Later? Okay. Later. That is most wonderful!" She exclaimed now, and Richard knew that it was already weird with her having calling him 'friend' all the time. He knew they were both together more than that. But he just wanted to keep it under wraps. Why couldn't she just understand? Why couldn't anybody understand? Even he knew, the work-obsessed teenager he was, that in danger, she was the perfect key to his demise. He cared for her too much to let her get hurt when it ended up being his fault.

Her footsteps were not heard, but he could feel the wind that came in through the bottom crack of the door that she was floating, since walking was simply only for the people who didn't understand that she had this ability; sometimes it weirded people out. But Richard loved it; it was like she was an angel. His angel. His and his only.
If only she could save him. Save him from the one thing that he feared the most in his entire life, the one thing that ate at him each and every day; himself.

She was gone now, that much he knew for certain, because her sniffling became softer and softer until he could hear it no more. The thing was, Richard would like nothing more than to follow her into the living room, sit down next to his friends and enjoy a good movie, but what would happen if he did?
He could attack. That much he knew. That much he obsessed about. If Richard didn't worry, who would? Sure, his friends said they did as well, but when crunch time came and they were lying in coffins, what could Richard do? He had to protect them. It was his duty; it was his passion; it was his job; it was his life.
And it slowly did age him. His dark, charcoal black hair grew shaggier and longer, and his dark, sapphire eyes grew more tired and darker, and he grew more taller; his features more adult-like than from his younger appearance.

Due to lack of interest, most of his Team members just simply shrugged. All Richard did was keep in his Study, only coming out to shower or eat or his only obligation; fight crime. But that was it. And the only person to question this was the only person Richard could feel deep emotions he couldn't even fathom. And she suffered for it dearly. When the door was shut in her face or when she got the simple reply of 'I'm Busy' she knew that it wasn't her fault.
Still, the tears would come tumbling down and even she spent her time wishing he could just come out. But, at the same time, what would it accomplish?
Richard was so bent on bringing him to justice, but what would happen after? Revenge wasn't the answer, she could repeat it to herself everyday of her life, but she could never get Richard to understand. He was intertwined with his own cold thirst for revenge and no one could stop him.

So the days would drift on, and she would occasionally knock on the door to get Richard to retire from his studies to perform normal teenage activities.
"I'm busy." He grumbled solemnly, staring at the many faces that haunted every corner of his mind.
She bit her lower lip. "Alright."
Her tone was obviously not alright, but Richard was already glaring at the picture, almost hearing the menacing laughter sound off in his brain, echoing to every corner.

"What's wrong with you?" The velvety voice said with complete disgust, "I would've thought by now I would be in jail. I guess you're not the hero I thought you were."
"I am a hero."
"No, you're just like me."
"I'm not a monster."
"Accept your fate, Robin. Give in." The tone of his voice was alarmingly soothing, but Richard grabbed the picture, ripping it up violently into little pieces that floated gently to the ground.

"Does this make you feel like a man?"
Richard thrashed through the papers and the pictures, tearing them viciously and throwing them wherever they fell.
"You'll never be a man unless someone teaches you how."
He took out his bo-staff, swinging the sliver stick into the large picture on the wall, only to leave a hole through the masked man's eye socket and through the wall.

He was breathing heavily as the voice was fading away back into his nightmares. It wasn't real, he repeated in his head, but he couldn't even trick himself to believe it. Slade was back. He had to be back. It was just too real to ignore.
And no one even seemed to believe him, not that he tried to convince them too much.

Richard paced around the ruins of what used to be a cluttered little office, his heart thumping violently in his chest, wanting to burst out and scream.
He let out a vicious yell and slammed his fists against the desk, the bits of paper flying around him when something caught his eye.
'Keep Playing the Game and You'll Win'
The words struck him so fast, he grabbed at his chest. There it was.