A/N So this part was written different from the other parts. Thankfully, when I lost my work, I didn't know what to write for Batman's chapter, so I didn't have to figure out what to rewrite. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Now to reply to come comments, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, and ME, you both pointed out that Dick is Romani and not Hispanic. My reasoning behind him knowing Spanish is that he lived in a traveling circus - the Haly International Traveling Circus (It's mentioned in the episode Performance) - and, as a result, would likely have been at least capable of understanding Spanish, along with a few other languages.
So, to recap, I already knew he was Romani, but I decided to use Spanish because chances were high that he knew it, because he spent the first 8 years of his life in an international circus.
And one other bit of business: I'm going to try to upload three stories at least once a week. On Mondays, Robin, Lord of Chaos. On Wednesdays, this story. And on Fridays, See The Light. If I miss an upload, then something happened or I was unable to produce the next chapter in time. If that happens, then once I have it done, I will upload it.
I hate Guns, an Essay by Bruce Wayne
I realize that this may seem biased, coming from me, but you should have expected something like this, asking us to write essays about what we hate. First, I willl explain my hatred of guns... Then I will propose a solution to the problem in and of itself.
There are actually multiple reasons that I hate guns, the first and foremost is the death of my parents because of one. When I was eight
Bruce crossed out the sentence. His classmates were tired of his constantly reminding them about his parents death. He sighed and looked at his door, wishing that Alfred could help him on this project.
But Alfred wasn't allowed, and besides, Bruce could do the projects on his own. If only he could figure out how to word it. He crumpled up the paper and threw it in the wastebasket, trying again, deciding to change the first line
Ever since the night where my parents died, I have held an undying hatred of guns. And, in the years since then, I have thought more deeping into the matter, and discovered that the death of my parents is not the only reason for this hatred. Once I have given you my reasons, then I will propose a solution.
Bruce nodded, pleased with the first paragraph. Now if he could keep it on track and finish well, he thought, looking at the by-now full wastebasket. He took a breath to steel himself and continued writing.
Some hours later, his essay looked something like this.
Ever since the night where my parents died, I have held an undying hatred of guns. And, in the years since then, I have thought more deeping into the matter, and discovered that the death of my parents is not the only reason for this hatred. Once I have given you my reasons, then I will propose a solution.
First and foremost, as you may have guessed, is the death of my parents due to one. When I was eight we - my parents and I - were walking in an alley back to our car - it was supposed to be a shortcut - when a robber ran up and threatened to shoot us if we didn't comply. We did so, but he still shot my parents before he fled.
The second also has something to do with that night, but in a very different way. It has to do with the pure terror that I felt when he waved that gun at me and my parents. The horror when I realized that my parents are dead. Guns are terrible machines, controled by the whimsy of human desire.
Guns make things unfair, to put it simply. Whoever has the bigger, better gun wins in this world. And to change that, I propose that guns be taken from people. From EVERYONE, excluding the proper authorities.
To conclude, my complete and utter hatred of guns completely stems from the night my parents died which made me realize that guns make things unfair. So my proposal to fix this problem is (as earlier stated) to remove them from the hands of everyone except th eproper authorities.