Disclaimer: I own everything to do with DC comics and the univese... JK... maybe...
Okay, this is a story to let the stress building within me out. I had, for the first time, cried in class. It was because we were sharing stories of 9/11. I told them about my little brother... he died before he was a year old. Hell, he wasn't even named yet! I cry a lot after my mom told me about him, and I turn cold during anytime of that day. I just really want him back. I never met him, because I was one, but I would do anything to get him. I came up with this to help myself. Hope you like.
It was the wrong day to do this.
This thug had thought that the heroes would be inside mourning the day, so it was nice to do this today.
He held a gun to the back of a little boy's head. The poor kid was probably only four. His parents threw money at the man, but he saw the father keep a dollar. He aimed his gun at the parent, his eyes gone hungry for blood.
'Whip!'
The gun knocked out of his hands, falling to the ground with a thud and a scream from the man. Three seconds later, he noticed the figure in the shadows next to him.
"You thought I would be inside, mourning the deaths of this day, didn't you?" The thug scrambled to the other side of the street, a switchblade out and ready.
"S-stay away!" He yelled.
"Why should I? You didn't let that family mourn." The thug was shaking. The voice continued on.
"Did you know that that family was on their way to the graveyard to mourn a girl who died at the age of nine there? It was their daughter." The man threw himself against the wall.
"Stop!" He cried.
"WHY SHOULD I?" The voice boomed. "THEY LOST SOMEONE IMPORTANT TO THEM. SOMEONE WHO EVEN IN DEATH IS BETTER THAN YOU, AND YOU TORMENT THEM FOR YOUR OWN GREEDY WANTS!" The figure jumped out of it's hiding spot, tackling the man. The thug screamed and made a stab at it, but the knife was yanked out of his hands. The figure began punching the thug over and over, not caring about the screams and cries that followed.
"Why? Why would you do this?" The figure asked, finally stopping his assault. The thug began sobbing through his blood-filled mouth. The figure pushed off the man and leaned in the shadows, letting a few tears escape. He stayed like that until the thug had picked up his gun and firing at the figure, who dodged and kicked the man in his chest, knocking him out. He fell to his knees and sobbed into his hands.
Why did that man have to be so cruel? Why couldn't he of left them in piece?
The figure felt strong arms wrap around him. He noticed them immediately.
"He attacked a family. He was going to shoot them. Why would he do that, Batman? Why would anyone want that?" He sobbed into Batman's shoulder.
"I don't know, Robin." He strengthened his grip and carried the boy into the Batmobile. He forgot about the thug and drove away. He knew that Roy and Wally were waiting at his house, knowing well what the boy would do today. He did this every year. Sneaking out and beating up crime for the poor families who just wanted to mourn.
He didn't even call for Gordon. He just left them there. He had a right, though.
It is 9/11.
And that's it. Sorry it's so short, it's just a quick venting story.