Hello everyone. It's been a very long time since I've posted here, but I've been inspired as of late. This will be a long story sporadically updated..since I am in Japan currently and very busy! This chapter is slow has a lot of information that might not make complete sense yet, but it will! This is basically me setting up my OC's and the roles they will play. Only a little Robin this chapter and no one else yet, but it will include everyone in the next chapter.
Warning for now: um..well, nothing too major. Will get plenty nasty later but for now just non- explicit mentions of unpleasant stuff…so enjoy!
Gotham City October 30, 2011 3:00 am
Devil's Time on Devil's night. This could quite possibly be the most dangerous time on one of the most dangerous nights in the city. Halloween was the next night, a night when even the most normal citizens of Gotham felt the pull of the darkness to them; a night when the insane became even more so.
This did nothing to deter the boy leaning against a grimy brick wall in one of Gotham's many slums, the chorus of rape and fire nothing but white noise; something to acknowledge only when it became too close. Having been running around these streets since he was five and walking them since he was ten, this particular boy knew every dark corner and secret of the city. Gotham was a cesspool of filth and semen where only the strong survive.
And he was a survivor. At whatever cost.
He had done countless things he would probably one day regret. Murder, robbery, dealing drugs…if he was ever arrested, he would have an entire file cabinet with his name on it. And that wasn't even including the not-so-legal- activity he was about to engage in.
He often wondered about this, putting his already endangered self into this situation, playing right into the hands of people who should have been his enemy. But he was a survivor, and he had people to take care of. And honesty, he had no idea how much longer he would be here for those who needed him. His type of lifestyle wasn't exactly known for its longevity.
Footsteps, light ones at that, appeared around the corner, about two hundred feet from the boy, breaking him from his thoughts. Seemingly out of nowhere.
No, they were out of nowhere…
He lifted his slightly, a strand of light hair escaping his hood as the figure materialized in front of him. A skinny kid in red and black, a domino mask hiding what he knew was a serious expression marked the arrival of Robin.
The lenses of his mask narrowed slightly as he examined the black-hooded figure across from him. Upon recognizing him, he gave a grin and sharply barked out,
"*You look bored. Having fun?*"
The other boy gave a small laugh. Even when his dark humor got the best of him, there was something about this brat that always brightened his mood. It was like he was going to the movies and not meeting an informant at three in the morning in a dark alleyway. Not only that, but the kid's accent was horrendous. In reality, however, the fact that he spoke Russian at all was tremendously helpful in making sure their conversations were kept confidential.
"*Not nearly as much as I'm sure are. How Gotham?*" his own Russian was perfect, despite having spent years speaking the street-slang filled English of Gotham's underground. It was the only link, the only tangible memory he had of his time before Gotham, and he made sure to always hold on to it for that reason.
"Let's not even go there. I only have like three minutes 'till I gotta meet back with Batman. Make it quick," switching back to English since he knew the ally was deserted…..and acknowledging just how bad his Russian sounded.
The boy, taking the hint that the ally way was completely deserted, pulled his hood down, revealing his pale face and lime-green eyes to Robin. Strands of dark-blonde hair fell around his face, trailing down to his waist. A silk feather, the same strange green as his eyes, was clipped to the left side of his head, reaching down to his shoulders.
He was extraordinary looking, walking the thin line between boyhood and man-hood with none of the awkwardness of most teenagers. Of all the boys owned by the Priest, a notorious pimp known for the sale of young boys on Gotham's black market, he was the most expensive and sought after. Having spent nights in the beds of some of the most powerful men in Gotham's above and underground, he had unprecedented access to a massive amount of information.
This is exactly why he was on speaking terms with a little boy in tights. Batman had been tracking the Priest for the past months, and he was a goldmine of information. In exchange for his information, he was being richly rewarded….and protected.
"Alight," he switched to "English" as he continued. "Priest ain't been doin' much..but I been hearin' rumors. Looks like big bat 'as 'ple'tly right. Somethin' big is 'appenen in Japan. Managed ta get et otta Black Mask," Robin perked up slightly at the name. "Yeah, him. God's I hate tat man…likes blood a bit muca for me..Anyways..be on ta lookout for the Yakuza..they bees comin'. 'n they love KRIRKETS so I'll try 'n see watta I cans gets from 'em."
Robin had been automatically translating the blonde's broken English, pulling out the relevant facts and nodded grimly. It seems that the Yakuza were beginning to infiltrate Gotham, to the point of worrying Black Mask and the other mobsters. Very asterous. The last thing him and Batman needed was an all-out turf war in Gotham..again.
"Thanks. Try and see what else you can get out of Black Mask about the Yakuza. Do you know which group?"
The boy shook his head. "Nah, he ain't that stupid, even when fuckin'."
"Ok. Thanks again…oh yeah," he pulled a rather impressive roll of cash from his belt and threw it to the boy.
"Oh fuck yes..Sweet needs a buncah' shit for school…'n the Priest ain't been payin' much."
"For how much you money he milks out of you, you should be a millionaire Montenegro. Glad to help though. You're worth it.*"
Montenegro smirked at that. "*I've heard that enough in my life, just not from a thirteen year old. Thanks for this Robin, and keep yourself safe. You should have a longer lifespan than the fifteen year old prostitute double-agent , you know.*"
"I can do that. Same to you Monty. Paint's too valuable to us to loose…not to be whelming or anything. Oh, Happy Halloween."
"*Likewise, and for God's sake PRACTICE YOUR RUSSIAN! It's an insult to my motherland the way you butcher my fine language.*"
"Let's not even discuss your English, Paint. Tell Akira I said hi!"
With that he was gone, leaving behind a slightly whelmed Monty.
"* I'm serious, kid. God only knows enough of us are dying way too young..*" he muttered to himself. Tucking the money safely into his jeans, he tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket, a small glint reflecting off the medical bracelet around his left wrist.
Nara, Japan. October 31, 2011
"*I can see that it would be in both of our interests to continue with the negotiations, don't you agree? I've heard the rumors of your children Yakana-san, and I have not been disappointed.*"
The young man bowed slightly, mumbling humble thanks at the compliment towards his children.
"*You are here for whom then? Am I correct in assuming that you have been doing your research?*"
The man smiled a smile slick with false promises and greed.
"*The white-haired boy, the dancer…how old is he now*?"
Said white-haired boy nearly fell through the paper door upon hearing himself being mentioned by the crazy-eyed foreigner. Only his perfect balance kept him upright, not much helped by the two children clutching his black pants. Steadying himself again against the wall, he willed the two little ones to remain silent, less they be caught.
The house was an old one, far past its former grandeur but retaining an old-fashioned glamor that appealed to the heads of the family. Despite it being well into the twenty-first century, his family still clung factiously to many old traditions almost non-existent in modern Japan. Hence the many paper doors, sprawling tatami rooms, and gardens sprinkled throughout the compound. It was a beautiful place, but missing many of the modern conveniences of more recent houses. But it was something the family had long tolerated, and it appeared that nothing would be changing anytime soon.
Of course, being one of the oldest Yakuza families in existence might have a role in that decision.
Back in the other room, the two men were silent as the younger, a handsome man seemingly in his early 30's, poured another cup of steaming macha.
"*Aiean, I presume, is the boy of whom you speak?*"
"*Of course. Even among your..unique clan there is only one this generation, correct?*"
"*Yes. He will be fourteen in April.*"
The boy, Aiean, was staring at the door in horror, barely believing what he was hearing. He knew that the man was coming here again, but he was more in fear for his younger brothers and sisters. He had no idea that he would be listening to his father bartering with HIS life.
"*Perfect. I would like to speak with him. Is he here?*" the older man required, his black eyes glittering.
"*Yes. Actually my son has been listening to us for the past several minutes so if you would be so kind, Ai-kun, please come in.*"
Starting again, Ai nodded to his siblings and they ran off, bare feet pattering on the tatami floors as he turned and slid the door open.
There was his father, the young son of the current don; a pernicious playboy with one wife, a dozen or so mistresses, and at least 30 children, of who ten lived in the Yakana compound. He was a handsome man, with the long black hair that marked Yakana clan members and a youthful face deceiving of his cruel nature.
Ai walked to the small table where his father and the guest were kneeling on small cushions. He could feel the oppressive stare of the black-eyed foreigner as he bowed to his father.
The guest, was in fact enjoying the view. He knew of the genetic abnormalities that ran rampant through this clan, and the white-haired gene was particularly striking and rare.
The boy was about average height for a Japanese boy, his lean dancer's body mostly hid by his military- style school uniform. His devious black eyes were the same as his father's and his white hair fell down to his shoulders, offsetting his eyes and tan skin in an unusual, but not unpleasant way.
"*I'm impressed. He'll be quite handsome in a few years. As I was mentioning before-*"
The man continued to speak, completely unaware as the door slid open behind him again, two men in black suits walking quietly behind him.
Ai turned to look at his father, who was sipping his tea, watching the scene unfold before him. Ai, knowing better than saying anything, remained standing where he was, wondering if this man had any idea what was about to happen.
It appeared not, as in moments, he was dead on the table, blood beginning to seep out of the hole blasted through his forehead.
Ai didn't flinch; growing up in a household of Yakuza he saw such things often. If anything, he was grateful when the body was dragged away before the blood began to billow out on the tatami.
"* I saved your ass, kid.*"
Ai turned towards his father again, still drinking that infernal tea.
"*It's not like you particularly care about me, father. Was I really worth the mess?*"
The man laughed; a sound that had always caused chills to run down Ai's spine. It was sometimes painfully obvious that the man had inherited some of the lesser..cosmetic traits of the Yakana.
"*Listen to you…you really don't understand how valuable you are, do you Ai-kun…or just how much danger you are in,*" he smirked again as his boy's eyes widened slightly. "*Oh yes, you of all people can't afford to disbelieve the old myths of this line. They say it's almost time again…once they find out who it will work with, it will be your turn.*"
It took a moment for the boy to comprehend the message, but when he did, his face turned almost the color of his hair as he began to back away from the insane man in front of him, one minute charming the next a seething, grinning maniac.
"*You….no. YOU WOULD LET THEM!*"
"*Oh you misjudge me..and you know who it will be if it's not you.*"
And he ran.