Dick's hands tightened around the straps of the duffel bag on his back. The office building in front of him had long ago been abandoned by its original owners, but it had not fallen into disrepair due to the efforts of its new, more clandestine residents. The dark red brick was worn but solid. The windows were still mostly boarded over from when the building had been deserted. Four stories rose out of the ground and ended in a flat top, similar to many of Gotham's business-district buildings. It was half-covered in shadows from the setting sun.
A large thug leaned casually back against the front door. He was illuminated by a single, yellow light above the doorway. The twenty-something-year-old man was bulky on top, muscles stretching his black T-shirt to its limits. His worn jeans, on the other hand, didn't seem to hide any significant muscle. Not much of a fighter, Dick noted. The man's face was wide, thick with hard fat. It made his eyes appear small and narrow above a broad-based nose. A long forehead led to a shaved skull.
Dick had been standing opposite the building for nearly an hour, trying to convince himself to go in, trying to convince himself to run away and never look back. If he waited any longer, Bruce was sure to notice his absence and start searching for his missing ward. One guess as to where I ran off to, Bats. It would take longer for Bruce to get here than to deduce where Dick had gone. The man should have known that pushing Dick away rather than involving him in the case would only lead him here. World's greatest detective, he may be, but the man's a moron when it comes to human emotion.
The shadows finished engulfing the building at long last. Now or never.
Taking a deep breath, Dick stepped forward out of the shadows and crossed the street. The thug's eyes immediately jumped to the small teenager approaching the building. He straightened up and crossed his arms, scowl settling on his face.
Why so serious?
Making his features as stern as he could, Dick demanded, "Take me to your leader."
The thug's scowl deepened.
Geez, no sense of humor at all.
"I'm here to see Nikolai."
Scowl still in place, the thug reached back with his left hand and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, it opened, revealing a young woman in her late twenties with short brown hair, gray eyes, and an angular face. Jeans and a tight, black tank top covered a muscular build. Wide leather bracelets sat over both wrists; Dick was too far away to make out any symbols or patterns on them. Mouth set in a hard line, she snapped, "What?"
The thug gestured at Dick. "The kid says he's here to see Nikolai."
The woman glanced dismissively at Dick before focusing back on the thug. "So. What, now we just let anyone inside 'cause they wanna see the boss?" Her voice held a hint of a Russian accent.
Seeing that he was losing his chance, Dick spoke up, "Maybe you should let Nikolai decide who he does and doesn't want to see."
The woman finally turned and studied him with narrowed, steel gray eyes. After a long moment, she let out a disgusted sigh and muttered, "Your funeral, kid," before turning to stride back into the building.
Dick jumped to follow before anyone could change their minds.
Inside, the vestibule opened up into what once was the office building's lobby, a 15-by-20-foot, rectangular room. The large secretary's desk in the far-right corner from the outer door was the only remnant of the building's old occupants. It was still used on occasion, if the neatly stacked papers were anything to go by. The cinnamon-brown carpet and tan walls were likely left over from the building's office days, as well. The rest of the lobby had been turned into some kind of living room with a seemingly unnecessary amount of bean bag chairs and couches scattered throughout the room.
Dick followed the woman through the room to a wide hallway on the far wall, to the left of the desk. The thug remained outside.
The hallway was similarly colored to the front room. Scattered doors broke off the hallway, most open enough for Dick to peek inside as they passed. One led to a long room filled with lockers and trunks. Another led to a bathroom with a wall of several stalls and urinals opposite the sinks and a room-length mirror. Another led to what must have been a storage room, but was such a cluttered mess Dick couldn't tell what it was supposed to be storing. Office supplies and weapons, it seemed like from the short glimpse Dick was able to manage. The last door on the right was closed but had a sign that read "Stairs" on it, so Dick felt it was safe to assume what hid behind that one.
When they reached the end of the hallway, the woman stopped and knocked on the wooden double doors that barricaded them from the final room on this floor. Two quick knocks, a pause, and three slow, off-beat knocks. Then she opened the door on the right.
The room that was revealed was large, roughly 50 feet long and 30 feet wide. It was two stories tall. Above the first story, the wall behind Dick turned into a guard rail protecting what looked like another living room. In front of him, was only open space. On either side of the room, two long tables stretched the length of the room. Several people were working at each table, but stopped to look when Dick and the woman entered the room. On the far side of the room was another long table, behind which sat a large, ebony chair with red cushions. It was currently unoccupied, likely because its owner stood on the opposite side of the table, talking casually with two teenage boys.
Behind the chair's owner stood two boys Dick remembered both vaguely and clearly. In their mid-twenties, the two brown-haired, brown-eyed brutes were exactly as Dick remembered. Covered in scars and tattoos, the twins were well-muscled all over and mulish in expression. One had a blocky jaw, droopy eyes, and a thin mouth; the other had a narrower face, a wide nose, and round eyes under bushy eyebrows. To this day, Dick still didn't know which was Jack and which was Dan.
Dick finally allowed his eyes turn to the one person he'd been both wanting to avoid and to meet. Nikolai, also in his mid-twenties now, was tall and muscular, but more of a swimmer's build than the weight-lifter's build Jack and Dan had. The scar that stretched diagonally from his hairline to just under his left eye was as harsh as ever, and not for the first time Dick wondered where he had gotten it. The tattoo sleeves Dick knew covered Nikolai's arm from wrist to shoulder were currently covered by a red, wool sweater. Unlike when Dick had last known Nikolai, his head was no longer shaved. Now, straight black hair was pulled back into a tight, short ponytail. Intrigued, green eyes stared intensely at Dick from across the room.
Dick remembered the first time those eyes had locked onto him.
"Who do we have here, boys? Ain't he a pretty one!"
The young boy had been terrified then.
"You're the new meat here, pretty boy, which means you have a lot to learn. And I'd be glad to be your teacher."
Dick wished he could say he felt the same now.
"Something happened to pretty boy's face. He ain't so pretty anymore."
He wished he could say he was appropriately afraid, hardened against what he knew was coming.
"You did well, pretty boy. You did very well."
Because he should be.
"You had a future with me, pretty boy. Now you have nothing."
He really should.
"I promise you, pretty boy, we'll see each other again."
But it would be a lie.
Dick remembered all the pain and relief, grief and joy, humiliation and pride, degradation and honor he had felt at Nikolai's hand. His left shoulder throbbed, both in remembered agony and phantom comfort. Even as a familiar rock of anxiety made its home in his stomach, the back of his neck felt bereft and cold.
Never breaking eye contact, Nikolai lifted his left hand and requested Dick over with a leisurely wave of two fingers. It was a gesture Dick remembered well.
Dick willed his brain to come up with something flippant to say. To rebel against the order (and it most certainly was an order, despite the casual appearance) the way he had become so accustomed to doing with Bruce. His brain gave him nothing.
Almost without conscious thought, his feet carried him across the room and stopped in front of Dick's old tormentor. Dread and anticipation coiled in his stomach, right alongside the anxiety. If Dick had been able to pay attention to anything but Nikolai, he would have noticed that the room was silent, all attention on them.
Nikolai reached forward and laid his hand on Dick's nape, a feeling so familiar and long-absent Dick almost gasped. The older boy leaned in close and grinned, "Well, pretty boy. What are you doing here?" His voice was gruffer than Dick remembered.
Blood pounded in his ears, and his breathing became harsh. Speak, you idiot! "I–I ran away." Nice start, Dick's mind sneered at him. Stuttering again like when you were eight.
Nikolai's eyes gleamed. "And what, pray tell, are you doing here?"
Dick's mind went into a panic. Does he not want me here? I thought he said we'd be together again!
Never mind that! Tell him the cover story!
Will it even work if he doesn't want me?
You shouldn't want him to want you, dammit!
Words finally stumbled out of Dick's mouth. "I–It was the only place I could think of going.… You told me, b–back then, that Br–Wayne wouldn't truly want me…wouldn't love me." How right he was! one part of Dick's mind snarled. Another part shouted back, Shut it! Bruce loves me! "You were right. We've been fighting for months. I couldn't stay there any longer." That part's not even a lie. "You were the only one I could think would help me."
When the words stopped coming, Dick swallowed hard and waited.
Knowing, green eyes bore into Dick's own.
Dick's heart pounded loud enough to block the sounds of his breathing. Anticipation…apprehension gripped his mind. What if he turns me away? Where will I go? I can't go back to the Manor until I prove myself to Bruce. Until I prove to him that I'm still capable of being Robin.
The corners of Nikolai's lips pulled up. His hand slid from the nape of Dick's neck to tilt the younger boy's chin up. "And help you I will, pretty boy," he cooed. "You'll always have a place with me.
"Nadia," he called to the woman who had led Dick here, "set up our newest recruit with a room."