Chapter 11

After a few months on the pill, I began to notice differences. We had discovered early on that we had to include the puberty delaying drug to put a halt on my female development. My chest began to shrink, me periods became nonexistent, my voice was getting deeper (thanks to the voice box I got surgically installed into my braces…don't ask) and I was feeling…lighter. Nothing really felt different about my personality, though. I was still bubbly and still crazy. It just seemed a little more out of context. Once the tabloids began to comment on my developing male features, a cover story was devised: Richelle was sent to boarding school and Richard was adopted. Richard John Grayson was my new ego that I'd adopt. He was cocky, confident, and head-strong. Nothing like me but I had to act like him if I wanted to truly change. But the Robin gig was getting terrible. The villains were getting smarter, going for me now instead of Batman. The Joker called me 'his little birdie' and it was so annoying. But eventually something went wrong. Something terrible. Something awful. I…was shot. Right in the shoulder. When it had first grazed my skin I didn't feel anything. But as the wound set it the pain set in. I'm talking the throbbing kind of pain that you'd never thought you'd experience. Blood poured out, skin peeled off, and flesh folded over. Batman got us out pretty quickly, though, and brought us back to the Manor. But I had no idea that was the last time I'd be in the Manor for a long time.

There I lay on the medical cot, eyes blinking blearily and tears rushing down my face. Hey don't judge me; you'd cry of you got shot too. My throat was tight, my stomach hurt, and my hand could not stop moving. Alfred had treated and bandaged my wound, but it still hurt obviously.

"Richelle?" I lifted my head to see Bruce standing in the doorway, clad in a tuxedo. I quirked an eyebrow.

"Going somewhere?"

"Business dinner. But I need to talk to you first, dear." My eyes went wide. That was the first endearing nickname he'd ever used for me. This must be serious.

"Dear?" He nodded.

"Yes. Richelle…you know you've been shot-"

"Couldn't miss it."

"-and you've had some…trouble…as Robin. I've been watching you. You aren't used to it. You've been falling down more, not trusting yourself in your ability to land. Not sticking your landings, often times landing flat on your back. Throwing unnecessary punches that you miss anyways. You're becoming sloppier and sloppier." I narrowed my eyes into slits.

"I know what you're saying…" The rage was evident in my voice.

"Richelle-"

"You're firing me!" I exploded. I couldn't believe this! I'd given up so much for him, hell, I gave up my gender for him! And what does he do!? Fires me on the spot all because of a little bullet injury! Like he's never gotten shot. That jerk! Did he know?! Did he even know what I went through being brutally beaten and cut just to save his ass? Did he know what I went through…being some psychopath's plaything while he went in for the kill? No. Of course not. He's the big hero and I'm just a…a sidekick! He's got all the fame and glory and the press always gives him the honor of being interviewed! I shot up, throwing both arms in the air and ignoring the blaring pain.

"Be reasonable-"

"No! I can't…I can't believe this! I've given the best years of my life to you! I could've been doing other things, Bruce! I could've gone out with my friends or done something productive instead of being the distraction! If you hadn't forced-"

"Hey! Listen here young lady. I never forced you to do anything! You came out and interfered when I was perfectly capable of-"

"Capable?! You were pinned up to a freaking wall, Bruce! Sorry- duct taped! And Batgirl- she was in on the little stint! I can deal with you lying to me," I stuck my finger in his face. "I can deal with you not showing up to dinner, I can deal with you flaking out on Father's Day…but one thing you will never do is exclude me from the group!" He towered over me with his 6"5 stature, but I wasn't afraid.

"Richelle-" My temper was at its boiling point. I couldn't take it- wouldn't take it- anymore.

"You know what Bruce…you know what….say it." He glared at me.

"What?"

"Say what I know you've been meaning to say for a long time! Tell me what you've been trying to tell me thing whole time! Go on! Say it!" I sneered.

"You're fired." Stomps were heard as I ran from the room, screaming and growling with tear running down my face. How dare he! How dare he…

"Miss Richelle." Alfred's sharp voice sliced into my eardrums as he knocked on my bedroom door .I was stuffing my clothes into a duffle bag, grumbling under my breath. I had to leave. I had to. Was there any other reason for me to stay in Gotham other than to be Robin? No. I needed to leave. Needed to go find bigger, better things.

"Sorry Al…" My eyes were remorseful as I opened the door, staring at the man in sadness.

"Miss Richelle…are you leaving?" I sniffed and wiped my tears with the back of my hand.

"Yah; sorry. I just can't live like this anymore! All of this pressure and failure and incompetence is really putting a damper on my mood…" Alfred simply shook his head.

"What are you speaking-"

"It's Bruce okay?! He's always demanding more from me and I can't give anymore! I'm sorry Alfred…but I've got to go! I'm catching a bus to Jump City."

"Why Jump City if I may ask?" I smiled as I grabbed his hand and let him into my bedroom. My iPad was sitting on the bed and I grabbed it, shoving it into Alfred's hands.

"See this? These are the crime rates for California. I figured I should go there since there's a lack of heroes. Jump City has one of the highest. It's really quiet there. The town is really small, but there are many metahumans whose bases are around there. Figured I could make a name for myself there."

"But must you go?"

"Yes Alfred…I 'must'. I need to make a name for myself. I'm flying solo from now on."

"Oh…" The man seemed forlorn as he left the room, his eye set on the ground. I sighed, slung my duffle over my shoulder, and set out.

Are you happy now that I'm moving on? Huh?! Are ya!? Review and Favorite. Grammar Nazis and Flamers welcome.