A/N: So this fic has kinda been lying around on my computer for a while, and I just decided to actually work on it for a bit so take this thing. This fic is set at the start of Season 1 of Young Justice, but doesn't follow canon universe. I mean it is a dark fic. And because it is a dark fic, the characters are by default, going to be kind of OOC. *points to description* Dark fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own DC, or Dick Grayson, because if I did every comic made by DC would feature Dick Grayson as the main character.
"Argh!" The woman cried as she was pushed against the wall.
"Well aren't you a pretty one?" says one of the men.
"Please, please don't do this, I just want to go home." she wept as she was grabbed by the leader of the pack.
Turning around to face the rest of his gang, he yanks the woman around in front of him and yells, "I think she's a very pretty woman." With a grin, he carried on. "But she shouldn't have stepped into our turf now should she?"
"No!" The yells of the men bounce off the walls and echo out into the night.
"And you know what we do with people who step onto our turf!" he leered at her, and continued. "We hurt 'em real good!" Grabbing the woman by her shoulders, he leant forward and planted a sloppy kiss on her neck. "And it's a real shame to waste such a pretty young thing like you." Pulling out a knife, he slowly leant forward and whispered in her ear, "But rules are rules after all." Raising the knife above his head, he couldn't help himself from delivering one final quip. "But maybe we can have some fun with your body after you're dead!" He yelled, before bringing the knife in his hand down suddenly- and jumped in surprise as the knife in his hand was viciously torn away by a projectile, leaving his hands bloody and stinging. With a sense of doom slowly coming upon him, the man slowly turned around to see what had wrenched his knife from grasp. And there he saw it. Quivering in the wall was the mark of death. A birdarang. Turning around frantically, he started screaming at his men. "Run! He's here. He's here!"
At these hysterical words, the rest of his men quickly scrambled over each other in their haste to escape. But when the fastest of them reached the mouth of the alleyway, he abruptly stopped, before falling to the floor, revealing another birdarang firmly implanted within his chest. As the rest of the goons watched in horror, a shadow detached itself from the wall and turned to face the mob of men. With a mischievous grin, Robin slowly walked towards the nearest goon as the man watched on with a look of absolute terror on his face. "Boo." said Robin, and quickly stabbed him through the heart. Blood sprayed out from the wound and covered him as he stood over the man's corpse. But though the dying man's blood was spattered all over him, Robin simply grinned wider and ran on towards the rest of the men, cackling in glee as he dispatched them with the ease and silent grace of a hawk. They tried to run. That just made it more fun for him. No one escaped. He was after all, a professional.
Sauntering over to the leader of the men, who lay cowering in a pile made of his men's corpses, Robin bent over the man quizzically, before asking him a question. "So what was it that made you think you could walk into my city, and do what you wanted?" he asked inquisitively.
"Please, please, please I have a family, I have children, oh god please." rambled the man in fear. Grinning, Robin placed the birdarang in his hand into his belt. "Well I guess they're just going to have to miss their daddy for a little bit huh?" A sickening snapping noise resonated around the alley for a moment, before everything went silent.
The scared woman had lain quaking in a corner of the alley while Robin was coming to her aid. As she'd watched, Robin had come through the alley and systematically murdered every single one of the men trying to flee, not leaving a single one alive or breathing. There was something inherently disturbing in the way that he seemed to almost relish the taking of their lives. She was of course, grateful. After all, she was about to be killed by that gang of thugs, and if it weren't for the interference of Robin, she probably would have been left to rot in the alley for years before being discovered. "Thank you for saving my life-" she started before Robin cut her off with a wave of his arm. "You think I'm doing this because I like saving people?" he laughed as he wiped one of his birdarangs on the shirt of the dead leader. "Well you're kind of wrong there." His smile suddenly turned chilling, as he looked at the woman through his blood soaked mop of ebony black hair. "I do this cause it's fun." he said, before quickly grappling away, leaving the woman standing in the alley full of corpses. "Fun?" she murmured before quickly making her way out of the alley to return to the safety of her home.
His dreams always started off the same way. In the past.
"This won't hurt at all Dickie." would say his father, before smiling gently and soothing him, lulling him into security. And then the pain, the screaming would start. The injections. The clamping. The torture.
Time after time, his small body would thrash against the restraints to the crazed laughter of his father, before eventually being left there, to heal for another time. He could of course, still use the trapeze. But the scars left by his father's ministrations never did leave much physical evidence. The scarring was mostly mental in nature. He had started out pure. But by the end of it, the only thing residing inside him was a broken, empty shell of the child that he used to be. He wasn't bothered when his parents died. In fact, he was almost; glad, because at least the pain would stop. At least he could finally stop feeling. At least he could stop trying to care.
Coming in to the Bat-cave through the rear entrance, Dick slowly stripped out of his Robin uniform and headed upstairs for a shower. "Master Dick, could you please refrain from dripping blood onto the carpet," said Alfred as he passed Dick in the hallway. "We did just have them dry-cleaned on Tuesday." Dick nodded slowly, careful to prevent the blood all over his face from spreading to the floor. "What's for dinner Alfred?" Alfred smiled as he realised his ward was hungry. "I've settled on shepherd's pie," he stated benevolently. "It's a favourite of Master Bruce's." he whispered. "Speaking of Bruce, where is he Alfie?" asked Dick curiously. "Wasn't he supposed to be around today?" Alfred smiled sadly before answering. "He was here just a minute ago, but an emergency board meeting was scheduled at Wayne Enterprises and he had to dash off." Disheartened, Dick continued shuffling down the hallway towards the shower. "Master Dick!" yelled Alfred. Dick turned around, curious as to what Alfred needed. "Perhaps a game of checkers after dinner?" he ventured carefully. Dick smiled feebly. "Nah, I think I'll just do my homework and go to sleep after dinner Alfred. But thanks for the offer." As Dick turned back around and entered the bathroom, Alfred's smile quickly changed to a frown. There was something not right in those eyes of Dick's. Well, not right excluding the fact that he's a regular child by day, and a homicidal maniac by night. Why, if Alfred hadn't seen the exact same thing in the eyes of Bruce when he was younger, he would have likely missed it. But just for a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of.. loneliness?
Wooh.
Hope that was suitably dark. It is my first time trying my hand at angsty violence, so any criticisms would be helpful.
Also feel free to leave suggestions or anything about the plot, cause I haven't actually finalised anything to do with the main story yet.
-Dman