A/N: hello! This is my first story on FFN, and this is also on Wattpad! So, after watching a marathon of NCIS, I was craving to read a story where they meet Little Dick Grayson! And, after me sobbing into cookie-dough ice cream when I couldn't find one (don't give me that look, ice cream fixes everything!) I decided to just write the story I wanted to read. You don't have to know much about Dick Grayson for this Book, his life is pretty much AU anyway. I even changed his first name.
OMG I'M SO EXCITED! MY FIRST STORY!
Now, I'm only going to do one of these, so I put it in bold and italics so all you picky goody - goodies won't snitch or bitch about me stealing the characters.
DISCLAIMER: no matter how many times I wish upon a star, NCIS and lil'
Dickie will never be mine *sobs*
Also, this book will contain some angsty themes (no R-Rated stuff, though) and will contain cursing.
If this upsets any of you, then get over it. I'm not forcing you to read the fucking book, you could have stopped before you saw the f-bomb, but because you kept reading, you saw it. HA!
On with the story! Please review and vote and tell me what you think! Also, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I'm only 12, so shush. Hehehehehe, Bye!
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Robin Grayson was dead.
Well, if you looked for him on any legal database, that's what it says.
But, the thing is, he's alive.
Not dead.
For the past 3 years, he's been in the hands of a string illegal labs and mercenary groups, sold as a soldier and hacker to the highest bidder.
'Black Bird' is the most efficient 'agent' in the business, and the only people who know that he's the best are his 'employers'. Who are the bad guys.
He doesn't want to work with these people, but he doesn't have a choice. He's drowning and is too far submerged to make sense of it all.
Until, that is, his employers fled and he's discovered by the NCIS.
His life's about to take a dramatic turn, but is it for better or for worse?
If you ask him, he'd say it's a little bit of both.
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No ones POV:
Washington DC, Maddison Industries, November 3rd, 2:37am.
The building was quiet.
Not silent -there was still that ever-present buzz that never ceased to let go of places like these- but it was quiet.
The bright lights were all off, and only the dim bulbs in the hallways were alight. Apart from the night guards, there was nobody in sight.
'Perfect' thought the small black-clad figure lurking in the shadows. 'less people, less casualties; less casualties, less guilt'.
The small ebony-haired figure creeps around the corners and halls silently, easily avoiding all of the highly sensitive cameras and sensors as if it were child's play.
Well, to him, technically, it was. He's a child after all, at only 10 years old. But still, the way he avoided military grade systems looked effortless.
He stops just before a janitors closet, and crouches down. He reaches to the side, and if you were watching him, it would appear that he disappeared into the wall.
That wasn't the case, though. He's quickly and efficiently making his way through the ventilation system by memory. And no, he has not been here before, he just looked at the system layout before he infiltrated the 'impenetrable' technology-company.
After 3-4 minutes of silent crawling, he stops over a grate. Looking down, he confirms this as the location of the target.
He removes the grate quickly, and sets off a row of small, high powered (self-made) EMP bombs, and jumps through the grate and into the room.
He goes to the box resting in the middle of the room, and removes the case of highly powerful and advanced hand grenades - his target.
He then simply jumps up through the gap in the vents 10ft above of him, as if it was easy to jump that high, and replaces the grate. He follows a different path to the one he took earlier, and ends up re-surfacing at the rear of the skyscraper, in the edge of a parking lot.
He melts into the shadows, and sprints at an inhuman speed towards the black van lurking by the curb. He hops in the back, and the vehicle stars moving fast away from the building, as if they were being chased, even though he hacked the systems before his arrival so that the alarms would be disabled until 6:00am.
He carefully walks over to the tinted window, separating him from the driver. He slides it open and pushes the box through.
The window shuts and his advanced hearing can hear the 'silent' lock click on the other side of the window, and muffled noises through the 'sound-proof' separator.
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An hour later, the small figure is sitting chained to the wall in a basement. He could easily escape the bonds, but he often gets shocked for speaking without permission, and doesn't want to risk finding out what the punishment would be for an attempt at escape.
It's an unpleasant feeling, knowing he can free himself yet can't at the same time.
He removed the utility belt, gloves and shoes he was wearing earlier, before they chained him, so he's just in black acrobatic leggings, and a black long sleeved shirt.
His ebony hair matches his clothes, so the only colour on him is his naturally tanned, slightly olive toned skin; a thick, brown leather charm bracelet with green, blue and gold charms; and his eyes.
His eyes add so much life to his being, though. They are big and blue and unbelievably bright. Not light blue or sky blue, but a colour that's undefinable, the closest way to describe it being an electric, neon, Robin's egg blue.
That's why his Mom named him Robin. His eyes. And it helped that as he grew older he learned to fly on the trapeze better than all other circus professionals in the world. He flew.
Like a bird.
'My little bird.'
Robin misses his old life so much. He misses the colours and the noise and the cheering and encouragement. He misses his family, both in blood and not.
No. Now is not the time to be thinking about that. He needs to think about something less triggering.
The mercenary group he was with at the moment were all ex-marines. You would think that would make them smarter, but no. He was stuck with idiots. They had a plan to kill one of their old officers. That's just going to get a governments attention. Probably Naval Criminal Investigation Squad. That's pretty much their job.
They let him train his acrobatics, at least. Suppose that's better than nothing.
He looks around the dark room he's in. There was a dim light hanging from the ceiling, and it wasn't a big or small basement. Just average. He's chained over a thin mattress and thin pillow, so he could sleep when he's trapped.
He doesn't sleep often, because he's often on missions at night, and when he gets back he's still on an adrenaline rush, making it impossible to sleep sometimes. He's an insomniac, to put it simply.
He used to be afraid that he'd get horrible nightmares from all the things he's been through, but he rarely gets bad dreams. Only on important dates/anniversaries. He's lucky he was never one to dream in the first place.
Sleeping is nice. You forget about everything for a little while. It's like death but without the commitment.
With these thoughts, he adjusts himself so that he could lay down on his 'bed' and slip away into the nothingness he so desperately craves at times like these. When he's completely alone and wary and scared. Even though he's been living like this, or in worse conditions to this, for the past 3 years, he's still only 10. He may not be scared of much, but he hates being alone.
As sleep overcomes him, he hears shouts and doors slamming, then silence. But he's too far gone to react.