A/N
So yesterday (when trying to finish writing ch 6 of As Friendly As They Get), this thought just randomly came to my mind-what would happen if YJ had never met their mentors, were never super heroes? Anyways, we start off with Dick Grayson! And it may not be quite what you think...
Summary: In a different world, where sidekicks don't exist and superheroes are urban legends, they lead very different lives.
Song(s):
Once Upon a December- (just look it up 'cause I have no idea who the singer is)
Disclaimer: I wish I owned this!
Once Upon a Street Corner
Toss, catch.
Flip, juggle, smile.
It was all he'd ever known-all he ever would know.
His body twists and he grins at the gathering crowd, juggling the balls in time despite his continued movement.
His face is plastered with make up and a mask, and his costume is getting sweaty, but the little girl grinning at him with innocent eyes made it all worth it.
His bag is pitifully empty, not a single coin in sight even though he's been performing on the Gotham street corner for the last 3 hours. His stomach reminds him of that fact as it lurches painfully, but he still grins, leaping and twirling, making the usually solemn city-goers oh and ah.
He slides down into the splits, grinning as the girl shrieks happily. He winks at her, causing a red hue to appear at her cheeks.
Flipping backwards, he gets to his feet, still juggling, another 2 rainbow balls having added themselves to the mix. He switches to one hand, reveling in the crowds echoed gasp.
He cartwheels over to the girl again, pulling out a rose from seemingly nowhere and presenting it to her with a flourish. She blushes, accepting it with small, chubby hands amongst sighs ("Isn't that so adorable?"). He gives her one more secretive smile before flipping back to the center of the ring, once again juggling with both hands.
The crowds changed slightly again (places to be and people to see, after all), but the girl is still there, sitting down to watch him in her tattered coat.
Another hour goes by, and a small bit of cash sneaks its way into the gypsy boys bag; the child is still there, watching, smiling.
He stops for a moment to take several gulps of water, stretching his sore limbs at the same time. Pushing his limits was a fun pastime-besides, what else was there to do? (He's never going back to one of those orphanages again-but then again, it wasn't really an orphanage).
His stomach grumbles again and he wiggles his hand into the bag, snagging a partially unwrapped candy bar and viciously biting into it. The little girl looks at it longingly and he offers it to her. With widened eyes, she snatches it, inhaling it in fear he'd take it back. He merely smiles (though his body groans in agony) and hands her the water.
Time keeps ticking by, and the the summer heat beats down on them, but Dick is nothing if not resilient. His act is shifted over to the shade, along with the child, and he soldiers on, moving on to pure contortion. Another crowd is formed, and they gasp at his daring feats, mouths agape as he folds his limber body in half.
It's past lunch time now, but he keeps going anyway because this was his favorite part (why was she still there? Where were her parents?).
The case that's been sitting on the sidewalk since the beginning (a long, thin box) popped open, and Dick carefully pulls out the shining bar. The trapeze glinted in the harsh sunlight that managed to evade the smog, leather worn and faded from years of use.
Ah, time for the final trick. And what a tricky trick this trickster had thought up (Dick snickered to himself-his inner monologue never ceased to amuse himself).
He bit his lip, glancing around the area in search of a proper support beam. There's really nothing there but a lamppost, so he goes with that, because everyone knows the cops have bigger things to deal with (last he'd heard, the Joker was on a rampage. But Batman was there to stop him, as usual).
He climes the poll, inching his way up with the bar clenched in his free hand, chains clanking on the black night light. He ties it up, (securely, securely, securely) then stands up, 15 feet from the ground and jumps. The girl, and a forming crowd, gasp in union, but he grabs the Trapeze with his knees, raptor eyes on the distance from him to the ground. (A friendly reminder of his past, you see).
He swings, backwards and forwards, jumping and twisting and grinning and wincing. They gasp, they scream, they cry (oh, how that one rings!). It's a little past two, and he knows he needs to stop (to eat), but flying is just so intoxicating, so freeing, and he knows he's not going down any time soon. (It's the reason he ran away).
Sweat is dripping down his face, blatantly, and school children stop on their trek home to watch. A few sit down, even, and it makes him smile all the more.
This wasn't so different-the awed crowd, the exertion, nerves-and he faintly hears a ringing circus toon.
But because he's so stuck on reality, he just shakes his head and keeps going, watching as his bag slowly fills (it's a nice feeling).
Some of the high schoolers gawk as they watch a boy-who looks younger than them-twist and flip, not missing a beat when his foot slips from the built up heat.
A blond haired teenager with cropped hair and a sneer on her face stops to look, eyebrows narrowed and shoulders hunched with anger and pain. Her hat dips lower but her eyes go upward, straining to watch a little ray of sunshine in the bleak Gotham atmosphere.
The dark haired boy is lost in his own paradise, but he grins at her nonetheless (because he knew what she was feeling) and she slowly inches away, tempted to stay and forget her worries for a day.
But her dad will want her home, as her moms still in rehab-and who knows where Jade is-but that doesn't mean she can't watch him latter tonight.
Dick realizes the little girl is gone-it makes him a little sad. But he holds onto the hope that he'll see her tomorrow. The tall blond girl eventually left too, and soon the crowd disperses, their comfy homes and warm dinners calling to them. Dick sighs, but slows down, eventually crawling up the chains to release the binds holding the Trapeze in place. He grips it and flips to the ground, grinning as he sticks the landing.
Gently, he wipes the smooth metal down with a worn rag and tucks it away. His mask is next, slipping off raven locks. He digs through the (somewhat) money filled bag, pulling out sweats and a jacket.
Once his uniform is hidden, Dick scrubs at the makeup on his face, managing to get most of it off, but the golden glitter refused to come off. Oh well, he looks like a track star coming from a party. Not his worst cover.
Where should he sleep tonight? The trees look welcoming, as usual, but he's heard Poison Ivy was on the loose-best not to temp fate. He zips his bag up and slings it over his shoulder, picking up the battered case that holds his most prized possession. A few coins jingle in his bag and he grins, a slight skip to his step. Maybe he doesn't have quite enough money yet, but one day, he will earn enough to get passage out of Gotham, back to his home (Haly's circus).
As he trudges to the dingy cafe for a dinner (his body is begging him for some form or nourishment), he fails to notice a pair of grey eyes watching his figure slowly disappear from sight, a slight smile still on her face from his ending performance. Artemis sighs and tugs her mask over her face.
Sportsmaster didn't appreciate tardiness.
A/N
Part 1 now complete! All these stories will connect to each other-and, as you can guess, Artemis is next! R&R!
Kisses!
Alyss
