Author's Note, Warning, and Disclaimer: Okay first published fanfiction here, so don't be too harsh please! So this is the first chapter of In Darkness the Best Are Born it will be a novel so I hope everyone is in for the long haul. I may be unable to post as often as I want due to AP classes and it being the end of the year, also my summer is already full. I will try to post as often as I can though; I plan to upload a new chapter ever 2 weeks.
This is rated M and has LOTS of violence and graphic scenes so DO NOT READ IF WEAK OF STOMACH! This is my only warning and I want no complaining in review(which you will leave!), everything in this chapter is already set and there will be no changing it!
This is based in the Nightwing, Teen Titans, and Young Justice comics, but is my own AU. Unfortunately, nothing is mine except for the plot. Everything else is owned by DC comics. Sooo, I'll quit talking to you now and let you read the first chapter.
In Darkness The Best Are Born
Darkness slipped in. It clouded his judgment, consumed him raw. It ate him to the core, licking up his blood with a long slippery tongue, a serpent's tongue. It oozed a thick sticky substance that stuck to his skin. Sept in and lace into his very being. Nothing was left outside its grasp nothing was free to run from it. He choked on it, fought it; sought any source of pure wholesome light that could possibly break through this impenetrable realm. He thought of all options, every lesson he'd been taught, every resource he had, used everything that could possibly have help in his belt, to no avail. He was trapped. Caged like an animal who was never meant to be caged. A bird in a bird caged, no longer allowed to fly.
His gripped tightened on the one thing that gave him hope, his last tie to the light, his bo-staff. It give him a comfort that he so desperately craved in these horrid times, it grounded him, reminded of what he stood for. Yet as if some form of unworldly God was out to make his life a living hell, his staff was gone mere seconds later, gone as if it had never been there to begin with. Taken and flung from his grasp.
He took his stance. Reaching out with sense other than his eyes. Tensing every bone weary muscle and ligament. Waiting.
It was all he could do- wait.
Here in the darkness, straining to hear, to smell, to feel something; anything. All he heard was ticks and clanks of the room. Metal dropping and moved around. Footsteps coming from all around him, but no definite location to pinpoint. The smell of sweat and blood and fear and death. All he felt was cold. He wanted to do something, anything, other than waiting to be caught by someone or worse, by HIM. But as he thought this, he realized that only HE could possibly be the cause of all this. Something so unruly, something so horribly all-consuming, so disgusting, so vile, could only come from HIM. And so he waited for HIM.
As sick, as twisted, as it sounded he waited for him. It was inevitable, if it was the monster, there was no fighting, no running, and no escaping that would save him. That monster from his nightmares, that haunted him every night, ruined every dream, that entered his unconscious not matter what he did. He waited for HIM. He waited like a dog for HIM. Like a trained animal he sat and waited, because he didn't have a clue, no fucking clue as to what to do now.
And there it was, suddenly he was flying through the air, like the bird everyone compared him to, the one he was named after. His back making a sickening crack against the cold gears and metal as he struck them. He slowly slid to the floor, his breathing coming in broken rasps and blood sliding down his head. He knew where he was. He knew this place, even if he couldn't see it, he knew. He had spent so much of his year here he could navigate this room in complete blackness, but that gave him no advantage. For he could not out run or out smart what was hunting him. He could feel the evil, clinging to him, like a frightened child. The monster and the room perforated that feeling, that stench of burning, rotting, rusty, coldness of death and fear.
He tried to stand, to move, to fight, but he was only child, a child trying to fight a monster that was created centuries ago. His head spun and his stomach rolled. A child trying to overcome a beast with more experience, more brains, more shear power than he could ever dream of. He was a child going up against the monster in his closet, without a father to shine the light in. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't want to think of his father here, not now. He couldn't afford to relive the argument right now. Remind himself that if he had never run away from his father he would never have met his monster.
Something crept up on him, some strange feeling settled into his very being and took hold of him, crushing and suffocating him with raw power, but what was it? What was this thing that crept on him, settled into him and refused to leave?
Fear was the name of this new foe; fear was the creator of this madness. But he wasn't supposed to feel fear. He couldn't, no, he was supposed to be a hero a protector, someone strong and worthy of the title he'd been given. What title was that again? He couldn't remember anymore, it been ripped from him, stolen from him. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing that had crept up on him. The monster was here. So, he let go and screamed. He begged. He pleaded. He cried. He just wanted the pain, the loneliness, the emptiness, the hatred, the guilt to stop. To end.
No.
Thump
Stop.
smack
STOP!
THUD
I'M SORRY!
BAM
STOP!
WHIP
Please.
Crunch
Please?
Punch
stop?
rip
someone… anyone…
bang
help…
slice
please?
Crimson pooled from his lips cascading down his chin, slipping between his fingers sliding down his skin; his black and blue painted flesh, staining him, staining his pale blue eyes, turning his gloves to the ones from his nightmares, and flooding his boots. It dripped like a broken faucet moment by moment onto the cold rusted floor. He was hollow. He is here, he was there. A dark cave. A grey room. He is alone, he was not. He is cold, he was hot. He was free, he is trapped. He is everything, all at the same time. Past, present, future, held no pretense here, for here none of it mattered because here there is only pain. And he is suffocating, he is being sucked in sucked into the twisted glory of it all, of each and every second that ticked by, that dragged on.
He felt everything and nothing at the same time. Pain flared through him, down into his soul. It didn't matter; he had been through worse, besides he deserved it. It was his fault. He had killed, twice. He had shot HIM. He had run away and stolen HIS satellite phone. He had called for help, Apprentices don't do that. He felt nothing anymore. Not even the needle that slid into his neck. Nothing when his clothes were torn from his bruised and battered body. Emptiness as HE raped him. Coldness as HE branded him. Ice when HE electrocuted him. Void as the bull-hided, two-inch-thick whip buried itself in his back for five hours straight. Oblivion as HE sketched words into his tattered flesh. Insufficient as HE beat him. Non-existence as he starved. Insignificance as HE demined him.
He looked up, that Mask, he knew it. It haunted him every day of his life. That mask that split down the middle, black and orange. The one cold, grey eye; narrowed in anger. The huge, muscled, monster that stood above him. A dark laugh. A twisted, faceless monster, whispering to him in the dark in that way that way that only he seemed capable of doing, dark notion, suggestion, that offered nothing but horror. A deep, cold, smooth chuckle; "oh little, little bird, I'll find you soon, you're never safe from me." That laughter hinted of madness, but held nothing but a twisted sanity, a sanity that only he could have. It cradled an intelligence far superior to that of any mortal.
Screams, everywhere yet nowhere at all, consumed him. The gloved hand clasped his throat choking his screams, depriving him of essential oxygen during his heart wrenching helplessness.
He caught a glint of light as it reflected off a knife, "Shhh" HE cooed as HE stroked his hair, "Remember I'm coming for you." He flinched away squirming to get free. The hand tightened for tense moment then released its hold, but instead found refuge around his wrists as a soft kiss was flitted across his lips. He spit with disgust as the monster once again defiled and attempted to treat him as some kind of whore. The eye hardened making the grey become liquid, cold ice and an angry glare sliced through it. The monster's grip tightened again making a pop sound across the room. Pain flared his wrist as it dislocated. A streak of light rushed past his eyes, knowing he was doomed he prepared for the slice across his throat. Instead, a knife never piercing his veins and arteries, a thin syringe dug its way in delivering a cold fluid into his bloodstream. The fluid felt like ice covering everything in its path, exciting every nerve, than fading to nothing. Becoming nothing more than a forgotten memory. A nightmare.
And then he was gone, Slade was gone again, leaving Dick with nothing more than pain, screams, and the dark.
AN: Soooo, yeah. Don't hate me! I know I'm a horrible person for putting Dick through that. You may hate me even more after the next chapter… Sorry! Also, I apologize for the chapter being so short, hopefully the next will be longer. Anyway, don't forget to review! I want as many comments and thoughts as possible. Don't be afraid to tell me what you thought. Come on review, I know you want to. Also, I will try to have the next chapter up within the next few weeks, though again no promises. Bye, For now!XD (Faint whispers as she leaves "Review…Review…review…review..")
