Birth of Robin
CHAPTER 12
Empty Fists
...
|June 16th
|2:36 pm
Dick found himself glaring at the device in his hands. He didn't know what it was, how it worked, or what it was supposed to do. But two days ago, during his second session with Wilson, the man had given it to Dick and told him to fix it. He was in the Garage, having decided the day before that he would forgo training with Grant that day to instead do what Wilson asked.
It was proving rather difficult.
The device didn't even look complete. It was fairly small, and could sit comfortably in the palm of Dick's hand. It was circular, about four inches in diameter, and one, maybe one and a half in height. One side was convex, curving outwards slightly to make a flattened dome. The metal there was carved and the tics along the outside reminded him of a clock face. The other side, which Dick assumed was the back, lacked a cover, exposing the wiring inside. A few of the wires were stripped and twisted together, and a few more were frayed. But there were two parts of the device that confused him greatly. What appeared to be a golden jewel of some kind, set inside a ring with conductors holding it in place. And another spot devoid of the mess of wires. It looked like something was supposed to fit in there, but that could have been anything.
Dick sighed and turned the device over in his hands once again. On the bottom, or what looked like the bottom, was an S. Similar to the one in the handle of his pocket knife. His thumb grazed the groves circling the insignia and he experimentally pressed down. Surprisingly, there was some, but not from what he thought had been a button. It actually came from the front. He lay the device down flat and stared at the curved surface. He pressed it again, and once again it give in with a soft click. Not a lot, just enough to feel it. He twisted it, and the notched face turned, clicking as it went around. But when he let go, nothing happened.
It still needed a power source of some kind. Maybe some kind of magic.
Before she died, his grandmother had told him a few things about Romani magic, and he believed her. But he didn't understand how it worked or what it was to be used for. The other members of her community had plainly displayed their distaste at him learning these things, so she hadn't taught him much. But Dick wished that she had. He could use some magic right about now.
...
|June 28th
|3:03 pm
Dick's stomach was growling with hunger as he left the visiting room to be escorted back to the main cell area. It was only his third session with Wilson, but he felt that he had improved greatly. He had been training with Grant for over a month now, and Wilson always tried to push him to his limits when they met. This session went two hours longer than the first two, and started an hour earlier, so he had missed both breakfast and lunch. That had been part of his training for the day. An attack could come at any moment, whether you are prepared for it or not, and there's no guarantee that he'd be well rested and well fed when it came. Dick needed to learn endurance in unfavourable conditions.
He had been a little upset when, during their session, he couldn't tell Wilson that he had fixed the mysterious device. He didn't understand what the jewel was supposed to do, and had no idea what the missing piece was. Wilson hadn't seemed angry, but Dick could tell he had been disappointed. He kept the device with him at all times, tucked away in the waist band of his jeans, and worked on it whenever he found the time.
The guard left Dick just inside the cell block, and the ebony haired boy shuffled towards his cell, eyes scanning the empty ones around him. He had taken the first two things Wilson taught him—or told him more accurately—to heart and worked on his observational skills, and controlling his reactions. It was for both these reasons that he kept his face impassive when Rose abruptly jumped out at him, hands raised and fingers curled as if they were claws, and letting out a roar that was honestly more adorable than fearsome.
A couple weeks ago Dick would have jumped or squeaked in surprise. But now he just raised an eyebrow and playfully pushed her away.
"Aw, you're no fun anymore. I knew you would stop getting scared if I listened," Rose grumbled.
"Listened?" Dick asked, signing the word at the same time. He may have started speaking around Rose and Grant, but he still didn't say much, and sign language was a useful skill worth practicing.
"Daddy told Grant and me to keep trying to surprise you last time he was here," she explained. Now the past fortnight's worth of jump scares and sudden shouts made sense. Although Dick couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He thought his lack or reactions could be attributed to his growing skills, but now he knew better. He was just unconsciously expecting one of the siblings to jump out at him at any time now, so he was always prepared for it. Although that could have been the point all along.
Dick shrugged and decided that didn't really matter. The point was, he had gotten much better at controlling his reactions.
"Here, I saved this." Rose slipped a small bun out of her jacket sleeve and passed it to Dick. He gave her a nod of thanks and ate it hungrily.
Rose giggled and started to pull him down the hall. "Come on, Grant is waiting in the yard."
Dick let himself be dragged along until they stepped outside and he saw Jeremy making his way towards them. He took the lead then, rushing across the yard with Rose in tow until they found Grant. He was at the far end of the field, in the only blind spot. During Dick's time in juvie, a new addition had been made to the yard. It didn't have an official name, and everyone just called it the box. It wasn't a very stable structure, but held up well enough. If someone caused trouble in the yard before, they were usually escorted back to their cell and remained there for the rest of the day with a constant watch. Now, if you caused trouble, you were tossed in the box until nightfall. The tin walls made for an excellent heat conductor, and it could be unbearable inside. Dick had been thrown in there once when a few of the other kids were picking on him and he tripped one of them. It had been horrible, and he hadn't caused trouble or defended himself since then.
"Hey, what's the rush?" Grant asked when he saw them approaching. Dick looked back over his shoulder, towards Jeremy. The older boy was standing in the middle of the yard with his arms crossed, staring after them as if contemplating whether following would be worth it. He apparently decided it would be. Dick swallowed nervously. He knew he could take Jeremy, but he didn't want to end up in the box again. The guards never seemed to be around when he wasn't defending himself, but the moment he fought back, someone would appear. He just knew it.
Grant seemed to sense what Dick was thinking.
"Rose, Dad should still be here. I was supposed to meet him soon. Go find him, and tell him that I'm moving forward with his instructions," Grant said.
"What? What instructions, what are you talking about?" Rose asked.
"Just do it!"
Rose glared at her brother and left in a huff. When she was out of earshot, Grant pulled Dick in close.
"You need to fight back."
"What?" Dick frowned, then looked at the approaching Jeremy.
"When he fights you, you have to fight back. He won't stop until you beat him. And you can't just beat him once, because he'll come back and fight you again. You have to fight so he'll never fight you again," Grant instructed.
Dick started to shake his head, but was stopped as Grant continued speaking.
"This is the blind spot, the guards won't be able to see you. No one will know besides the three of us, and I'm sure he isn't going to tell anyone." Grant stepped away now that Jeremy was close enough to hear them, and nodded firmly towards Dick.
"So what the hell is wrong with you that you get special treatment?" Jeremy snarled as he approached. He shoved Dick's shoulder, but Dick barely moved. He was far too used to holding his own against one of Grant's punches.
"I've been here two years, and the most I get is half an hour once a week. You've been here two months, and they give you a day in one those rooms." Jeremy shoved him again, and Dick scowled. What did Jeremy know? Dick's life had gone to hell since the day his family fell. He hated himself because he couldn't save them, and then Dean killed his friends from Lee's Laundromat. And now he had to deal with Jeremy every day.
"I bet they just pitied you, right? I'd say someone died, but your family's all already dead, right?"
With those words Dick's hesitance completely disappeared. He yelled and jumped forwards, shouldering Jeremy into the wall of the Box. The older boy gasped in surprise, but Dick wasn't done. Not even close. He elbowed Jeremy in the stomach, and when he doubled over, Dick gripped his hands together and swung down on Jeremy's back. The bully fell flat on his stomach and Dick kicked him onto his back, dropped onto his chest, and proceeded to rain punches down on his most recent tormentor.
"You!"
SMACK
"Don't get to say!"
THUD
"Anything!"
CRACK
"About. My. Family!" Each word was accompanied by a punch to the chest or face. Dick could feel Jeremy's ribs cracking under his knuckles, hear his nose, his collar bone, his jaw break as he just kept hitting him over and over and over again.
Everything that he had been bottling up that day, his sorrow, his anger towards Zucco, towards Kincaid, towards Dean, and himself, he let it flow into his fists. All he could see was red, until suddenly something was holding his fist back, and he twisted to attack whatever it was. But instead of finding a new target a hand appeared on his neck and the next thing Dick knew, he was pressed into the dirt with Grant crouching in front of him, whispering soothing words.
Dick hiccupped and finally realized he was crying. His knuckles were sore and the salt of his tears stung the open cuts when he wiped them away. Grant helped him up, and he looked at Jeremy. He was barely recognizable. His face was puffed up, all bruised and purple, and blood flowed freely from his broken nose, and several splits in his skin along his jaw and temple. His breaths were short and raspy, and Dick almost thought that he could hear gurgling.
"Here." Grant passed Dick his jacket, and the ebony slipped it on. It was overly large on him, since he was small even for his age, but it covered the bloodstains on his clothes. Dick felt disconnected from himself as Grant guided him towards the bathroom, where the older boy cleaned his torn and bruised knuckles, and disposed of the bloodied shirt. Dick sat in one of the stalls, waiting for Grant to return with clean clothes, and stared down at his knuckles.
He wasn't quite sure what he felt. He had beaten Jeremy, and now the bully would never bother him again. But in doing so he had actually beaten him into a bloody pulp. Jeremy deserved it, of that Dick had no doubt. He had suffered beatings of his own that totalled to far worse than what Dick had done. He felt safer, knowing that Jeremy wouldn't hit him again. Not after a humiliation like this.
But that was all he felt. He wasn't angry, or disappointed, or justified. He wasn't even happy. He just felt empty and hollow, and Dick knew why.
Jeremy had been his tormentor, but he wasn't the one that Dick truly wanted to gone. This emptiness would stay as long as Tony Zucco ran free.
...
'See' you next time!
