Wow.

I left you on a major cliff hanger there…

My apologies.

Here we go?

Guys… we're almost close to the end here.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter is dedicated to: theotakuprincessofgotham Because she reviewed on my first story on Fictionpress and was the first reviewer. So thanks again. Here you go. :)


Transferring from life with his parents to life with Bruce Wayne had been like crossing into a different dimension. Going to that wood between the worlds… and into a new place full of wonder and excitement… but sadness and fear too.

A wood between the worlds…


Tony Zucco placed his feet up on the couch, grinning sadistically as he popped a beer and took a few gulps.

Flicking on the TV, he settled in the small apartment room in South Gotham that an old buddy of his, Andrew Dawnos, had acquired for him. The plaid couch was stained with coffee and other drinks, and stank horrifically in the absent air conditioning, the heat from spring making it smell like a common Gotham garbage can. A fan blew on his face, which didn't help the smell, but it refreshed him to some point.

Batman couldn't find him here, and since the idiot's pride was to much, he wouldn't get another, real super powered hero, look for him. It was good that the Bat didn't have a partner, or else Gotham's underworld would be doomed. He frowned at this thought and sipped some more of his beer, turning up the volume on a wrestling match on the television. It was far more interesting than his thoughts.

He cheered them on, going for whoever got the upper hand at that moment. The Batman lay forgotten in his mind as the night went on, and soon it led far into the morning. He was still up, no longer a little sober, at around two in the morning. His eyes were fogged over, and he whimpered everytime the person he was rooting for got punched, as if he were the one fighting. The light in his room flickered and for a moment the power went off. With a cry of outrage he threw an empty bottle against the peeling wallpaper and then growled at the lamp. It came back on a few moments later and he grinned, obviously proud of himself.

He laid back down on the couch, shifting a brown pillow to support his head. Little did he know that a kid was waiting right outside his door, with a lethal weapon in his hand, revenge dripping off from his very core.


Bruce's eyes flickered open.

For some reason, he felt the need to go to the Batcave. Maybe Alfred was right and he should just get a regular hobby… like golfing.

Na.

Bruce sat up and threw off the covers, moving toward the door with a fast set pace. He moved the door open quickly and stomped down the staircase, hoping that he wasn't waking Dick and Alfred. Dick seemed to sleep like a rock and Alfred was used to it. He ran toward the library, past he tapestry and toward the entrance to the Batcave. For some reason, his heart began to beat faster and time moved slower, he wished the elevator was faster, his index finger tapped repeatedly against his leg. Impatience flooded him and he rushed into the steel elevator. The doors closed and he sped out once the doors slid open once more.

He ran toward the Batcomputer and froze when he saw the screen, a groan escaped his lips and he growled as he pivoted, turning toward his Batman costume. Snapping on his utility belt he heard the elevator open and someone step out, most likely it being Alfred he ignored it. Once he'd heard the older mans voice he relaxed.

"May I ask, dear sir, what you are doing?"

"Look at the Batcomputer, Dick was on it. He searched Zucco, he's going after him. I know it. Now I have to go and stop him before he gets hurt… or he hurts Zucco," he replied, nodding toward the Batcomputer with a pointed look. The butler's eyes widened and he turned, inspecting the computer with a wary look. Shaking his head, he moved forward and grabbed the cape, helping Batman, or Bruce considering the cowl wasn't on, put it on. Once that was finished, Bruce pulled the cowl over his head and the lenses over his eyes narrowed and he became the Dark Knight.

Alfred moved back, even feeling a tad intimidated by the caped man and watched as he jumped down into the Batmobile, which it so kindly had been dubbed by the people of Gotham City. He sighed one the man had left, turning and walking back toward the computer and sitting down at the chair; he knew his surrogate son would need some help finding his son. He smiled softly to himself, silently thinking of their makeshift family.


Dick felt himself breathe carefully, his eyes trained on the brown, wooden door in front of him.

Nothing could stop him now, not Bruce nor Batman. Thoughts of his parents swirled in his head and his lust became even worse. His vision tinted red and adrenaline pumped through his body when he thought of lay behind that door. It had been surprisingly easy finding the hotel, having lived in Gotham for a while he had come to know the streets like the back of his hand, considering he had a photographic memory.

His eyes narrowed and his hands gripped the Batarang firmly, his lips were tight in a frown, twitching ever so slightly, his acrobatic reflexes coming into play and disagreeing with the stillness he had positioned himself into. He blinked once and realized he was still standing in front of the door. He heard the TV from the inside, a wrestling match obviously from the sounds that emitted from it. He heard a few occasional grunts from Zucco, but other than that the hall was completely silent.

He hadn't thought of a way to get in, and, stuck, he stood there with no way in. He almost growled to himself and, looking around for a way in, he decided the best way to in was to knock. Now, this might not have been the best way in, but it was his only option. And he wasn't about the let a door stop him. Yeah, on the twelfth of never.

He quietly knocked on the door. There was nothing, not even the volume of the television went down. There was no movement and Dick scowled. Once more, he tried again, a little more loudly. This time he got the response he was searching for; the TV volume went down and he heard grumbling and footsteps. He dashed to the right of the door and slipped up against the wall. The door opened, all the way, and Tony Zucco stood in the frame, glancing around with his different colored eyes for the person who knocked. Dick slipped in, the shadows helping him in everyway and he hid in a closet that was left partially open.

There was little light in the apartment room, most of it coming from a dusty lamp and the blaring TV. Some came from the window, which was situated right by a flickering street light. Dick curled up and waited for the man to pass him and sit on the musty old couch. Zucco wore a pair of ratty old designer pants and white dress shirt, a pair of loafers were strewn by the couch and the man wore grey socks. His grayish, white hair was mussed up and sticking up at odd angles, a few age lines crinkled his forehead and he was skinny, but it was the same man from before.

Dick's eyes narrowed and he leaned a bit out to get a better look.

Zucco was back on the couch, sipping his beer and snarling at the TV. Dick stared at the man disgustedly, shaking his head slightly as he watched. He just needed a little longer, he was brave, sure, but that didn't stop him from being slightly nervous. He needed to do this, the carry out the revenge for his parents. The lust to do so was to large to ignore. The thirst for revenge clouded his judgement and he swore to himself he'd carry it out before the night was over.

Carefully, he stepped out into the darkness and stood up in the shadows. He flicked the Batarang open and the sound of metal sliding open made it toward Zucco's ears and he slowly turned his head.


Batman raced down the streets of Gotham, his thoughts swirling of some of the things Zucco could to do Richard.

He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his head. He sped up, weaving in and out of the Gotham City traffic. His eyes darted around, looking for the exit toward South Gotham, thinking about how it would have been much easier for him to take the rooftops. Sadly enough.

"Alfred, why is traffic going even slower?" he growled into the head speaker in his cowl, his voice rumbling deeply. Alfred gave a small sigh and Batman heard clicking in the background.

"Accident-"

Batman growled softly.

"-on One and Fifth street. I'd recommend turning into an ally sir and traveling by rooftops."

Yeah, he should have done that sooner. He sighed and turned the volume on the comm. link down. He spun the car into an ally, jumping out after cloaking it with a new technology. As long as no one walked down the ally, it would look empty. If anyone did, it would like they'd pumped into a big hunk of metallic air.

He took out his grappling hook and, pointing it into the night, and disappeared into the shadows as he was lifted up and headed toward South Gotham[1].


Zucco frowned, sitting up and turning toward the sound of the sliding metal. The glint caught in his eyes and he narrowed them, attempting to peer into the dark. "Who's there?" he gargled, sitting up and grabbing an empty beer bottle.

No sound emitted from the dark, no foot steps. Nothing came, but that glint of silverish metal kept getting caught in the corner of his eyes. Unable to find anything, and actually slightly afraid to move into the shadows, Zucco laid back down on his couch, shifting to get into the most comfortable position he could find. Then, there was the crack of floorboards. He sat straight up, head slowly turning toward the noise. A foot stepped into the light. It was small, and it made a muted whisper against the wood floors. Dust curled up and from the foot came a leg and from that leg and body and from that body… came a head.

It was a small boy, with bright cobalt blue eyes. In his hand was a sort of lethal weapon, one Zucco had never seen before, and he gripped it like his life depended on it. He wore a pair of simple jeans and a Superman t-shirt. He wasn't barefoot but his Walmart shoes were old and scruffy, like they gone through mud, trees, dirt and water. Zucco could swear he'd seen him before, but… he couldn't pinpoint it exactly. The paper maybe? It was on the tip of his tongue… why couldn't he remember?

"You," the boy said, his voice low… most likely the boy was around seven or eight years old. Zucco couldn't really tell.

Zucco stood up, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared down at the boy. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Get out!" he yelled, snatching an empty glass bottle from the floor. He smacked it against his hand threateningly and stepped forward. The boy seemed the hesitate but he didn't back down, staring up at Zucco with wide eyes.

"I gotta say, kid," Zucco chuckled, shaking his head with a slight smirk on his face, "you got guts, I'll give you that, kid. Now, how 'bout you get out of my apartment, and we'll forget all about this?"

The boy hesitated once more, looking like he was almost about to turn around but then he stiffened and glared at Zucco, shaking his head. A scowl with firmly placed on his face, and Tony had a feeling that it shouldn't belong there. But then again, what did he care? It wasn't his problem. But the kid was staring to annoy him. How did he even get in anyway. The door was locked… unless, the tiny thing snuck in when he heard a knock on the door and answered it. He knew something was suspicious about that.

"Why did you do it?" the boy asked (who was he?), gripping the sharp weapon tightly.

"Do what?" Zucco questioned, confused.

"Why did you kill my parents?"

It suddenly hit Tony Zucco why he recognized the kid. It was Richard Grayson, the boy whose parents had been taken away from because Zucco himself had sabotaged their circus act. He grinned sadistically, eyes crazed with laughter, his breath reeking with alcohol. He smirked, the thought of getting rid of the kid to seemed to make him happy. Get it over with. He didn't have anyone, he was worthless. A useless lump that would never be needed in society. He smiled ruefully at the idea and his right hand shot out, causing the bottle to hit against the wall. Shards of glass fell to the ground, clashing on the ground with cracks that pierced the air. Richard jumped from the sound and sunk back slightly. Zucco smirked, taking a step toward the boy, an evil grin on his face.

Richard's cobalt eyes seemed black as he stared at the man the loomed over him, the shadows in the rim of his vision seemed to move closer. He wasn't going to be afraid. He wasn't. He refused to. A smirk grazed his lips as he thought about getting his revenge. No need to be afraid.

He flipped out the Batarang and threw it at Zucco.


Batman jumped up on the ledge of the roof, staring at the ratty apartment building that held Tony Zucco and most likely… his son.

Bruce, not Batman, shook his head. What was Dick getting into? If Zucco's reputation was as bad as the criminal underworld said… he had a problem. He only hoped Dick would cower out but since he'd been performing death-defying acts since he was two or three, this would be the same thing. Different concept in a way, but the same thing. Still, Zucco didn't hesitate to kill. This was obviously shown in the death of John and Mary Grayson.

He jumped out, flipping in the air and rolling onto the roof of the apartment.

He burst down a stairway that led into the building, not even bothering to check to see if it was lock or unlocked. He knew the exact room where Zucco was…

He was scared to see what was behind it.


Zucco dodged (rather sluggishly from the alcohol) the Batarang. It lodged itself in the wall with a large thwack! Dick stared at it triumphantly but then turned to Zucco, who was seething in anger. His eyes were bloodshot and he stared down at the boy with anger seething from them. He took a step toward the boy, his hand shooting out to grasp Dick's shoulder. The boy cried out, flinching from the hard hold on his shoulder.

Zucco gripped the bottle tighter, glancing down as the sharp glass that was left from being smashed against the wall. It glinted in the poor light, dimly shining in his eyes. Just as he was about to smash the bottle in the boys head, a tremor hit the building. A large echo reverberated through, like steel hitting wood, and the lights shook momentarily. Both of them looked up as it ended.

Before Dick turned to look back at the man looming over him, Zucco smashed the bottole against his head.

The boy fell on the ground, blood blooming from his forehead. The red liquid ran down from his temple and his hand flew up to where the pain emitted. He gingerly touched it, flinching away from the pain it caused him, and brought his hand down. He looked at the blood on it curiously, as if it fascinated him.

Falling in the black…

Zucco growled happily, pleased with this outcome. He glanced around the small apartment, eyes landing on a toolbox by the kitchen. He moved toward it, shuddering and moving in a very uncoordinated way. He grabbed the first thing he saw; a rusty old hammer.

Slipping through the cracks…

Dick shuddered as he saw it, moving against a wall as his head throbbed from the pain in his temple. He stared at Zucco, eyes wide as he noticed the hammer. The rust was a bit bad and the hammer's wooden handle looked damaged from water.

Going to the depths till I never go back…

Zucco walked forward, spinning the hammer in his hand. His one blue eye and one brown eye clashed against his pale, sweaty skin, and his dark grey hair. Dick eyed it, a sinking feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach as he watched the much far older man come closer. It scared him. His eyes widened and the corner in the far end of the room seemed to be a very nice place right then. He lunged for it, his arms flailing as he huddled in the corner.

Dreaming of the way it used to be…

He wished for his parents. The way it used to be before they died. Before this man took them… before this man took Dick's own life. An overwhelming sense of fear and dread flooded through him when he closed his eyes to escape the image coming toward him. The corner, with bugs and grime and dirt, was his only escape.

Can you hear me…?

There was a loud boom and another Tremor went through the building. He heard yelling and a growl ripped through the room not soon after. Dick's eyes were squeezed shut tight and he curled up into the corner as far as he could. There was another yell and then someone thumping on the floor.

Suddenly, there was someone touching his cheek. He looked up slightly, eyes slowly opening.

Batman was in front of him, crouching in front of him. Dick stared up at the man, tears streaming down his face. Neither said anything for the longest time.

Dick opened his mouth to speak, and then:

"I'm sorry."


[1]- Like South Boston... but worse.

Well, review.