AN) Hey! Sorry for the delay! I was on a church mission trip for a week, so no phone or laptop. I'm asking for prayer—my great grandma is in the hospital. She had a mini stroke. She's fine. My dad said she was arguing with the doctors when they took her to the ER—so she should be okay. But please pray for a quick recovery for her? Please? Thanks. So—IbeWildBella check her/him out! They're great! Bella, thanks for working on some art! I'm sure you're an amazing artist-I can't wait to see it!
Sidling up the sidewalk he nodded along to the music pumping through his headphones. No one was really out and about yet. Mr. Byrne was watering his box garden and Michel Bell was fixing his bike while his girlfriend talked to someone on her cell. All three waved politely to him—Richard barely paid them a second of attention. He had a reputation to uphold.
He was a loner. Only had a few friends. According to his 'father' he was very anit-social, and suffered from a light case of ADHD and social anxiety. Neighbors nodded or smiled—but they all knew Richard didn't like to talk to people. He had trouble paying attention to conversations—another reason he didn't go to school.
He did actually. Richard attended an online acdemy. It was easy enough. He could probably test into any school he wanted, but he needed to be able to train without homework and be able to travel all over the world for missions at a moments notice.
The chilren he would have to go to school with were boring. Richard remembered every bit of a conversation—but they were below his level. Adults tried to humor him and get him to talk about books and movies or what sports he played.
"Does killing mob bosses count?" He mused as he lifted the mail flap to get th paper. "Or maybe I should say I like parkor—jumping off buildings counts as that I think."
He paused next to the door, worming around in his pocket for the goshdarn keys—where were they? He let his bag drop to the ground. Hearing a thunk as he remebered the weapon at the bottom.
"Oh...heck no I'm not getting a lecture and whipped now!" He groaned, pawing through his uniform to gt to the bottom. "Just my luck—get it home safe and I nearly break it."
Luckily for his hide and pride, there wasn't any damage. He sighed, plucking the house key from its place.
The house was pretty normal. Two floors, an attic and a basement. Richard walled into the little front room—kicking off his sneakers and neatly lining them up. He was alone for now—Will was off somewhere and heaven only knew where the third man had gone. There was a safe feel to the home. It was neat, orderly. But still felt like someone had lived in it.
Another jolt of pain caused Richard to stumple slightly. He caught onto the corner of the kitchen island. He groaned, closing his eyes as they teared up.
"Apprentice's don't cry." He scolded himself, taking out the earbuds to help releve the pounding headache. "Don't cry you fricken baby."
But it hurt so bad. With a hand on the wall he dragged himself toward the basement. Drop the weapon off—get the meds—be fine. That was the three things he needed to do. Oh, he needed to call Master, let him know that he had succeded at his mission. But that could wait...wait until he felt numb for a bit.
The basement was dark—it smelled a little moldy. There was an old pillow fort he and Scott though would be cool to build underground. Will hadn't let the pillows back into the living room claiming they reaked. So they were used as a fort for watching movies, Richard had to go shopping for new living room pillows with Will and that wasn't any fun, and when Master found out Richard was swatted. So he didn't really like the basement. Now—the room under it was fun. That was were all the weapons and training equipment was.
It took a few times to get the lift code right, since Richard felt like someone was stabbing him all over his head. But as he descended into the lair he knew it would be over soon.
He placed the gun thing on Master's desk. Perfectly in the middle, his OCD, everything that was offical should be orderly. It was a side effect from wanted t be absolutly perfect as a child.
His heart beat a little faster out of joy was he saw the Dixie cup and water bottle for his medicine. A smile overtaking his face as with shaking hands he popped the lid and downed the three small pills in one gulp.
Richard had started off taking only two—but as he grew used to the pills effect a red one had been added to help get the same effects as when he began to take the pills.
They tasted a little chalky—that was the part he didn't like. But the numbness, the feeling of calm was worth any bad taste left in his mouth.
There—there is was. It felt like his mind and body were on fire, and slowly—rain was pouring down. Water, cold as ice washing through him. Destroying any pain he had and leaving a cool peace in the fire's retreting wake.
His headache began to disapper. It started to pound less, the pain diminished. Richard smiled—it almost felt like heaven. Yeah, heaven—with soft piano music, Mozart and Bach is it was his heaven, floating in the background. And the air smelled like bread all the time, fresh baked bread. That was how he felt.
Shaking the daze from him he headed toward the lift. He was hungry. Richard knew what he planned to do. Call Master, alert him on his mission outcome, grab one of the last Honeycrisp apples and a lemonade can and call Scott and see what ladmark he had visited with his parents.
He waited only three rings before his call was answered.
"Yes?" No need for introductions.
"Master, mission was a success."
Richard felt his pride swell as he heard the little laugh of aproval from his master. "Very good Richard."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Three hours. Then training begins. Don't forget this time."
A blush started to worm across his face, last time he had over slept durning his free time.
"Of course Master." And then he was hung up on. Richard returned the phone to its place. Already, strange was it seemed, he wanted another dose of the pills. He could just sneak them. No—that was wrong. If he took too much somthing bad could happen. Richard had seen drug addicts—people who took real street drugs. They were not good. And he never wanted to be like them.
So instead he went for the next best thing. Food. He grabbed an apple and the lemonade he wanted, but also a granola bar—and to splurge a bit he snagged a couple cookies Will made. Raisin, the best cookie in his opinion.
Fleeing to his room, flipping open his laptop. That was his twelfth birthday gift—he mostly used it to watch Studio C, ASDF, or Llamas with Hats and music videos. Or to play online games. And Skype Scott.
As he listened to his blonde friend chatter about what sights he had seen in Washington D.C. that day. To which Richard let his eyes widen and his gape ever few seconds—even though he had seen most everything Scott had talked about. And he could confirm for a fact that there wasn't a map on the back of the Constitution. Stupid movie, and stupid defense system. Stupid Americans…..
"Wait….I'M American….."
"DICK!"
"Yeah?"
"You zoned out man."
"Sorry."
Scott shrugged, the glee in his eyes never fading—if anything it increased.
"So—we went to the HALL OF JUSTICE!" Scott cheered, Richard groaning inwardly. Scott, like every other child, adored the Justice League. His favorite was either Red Tornado or the Atom. Richard teased him about liking the 'lame members' but thought they were all lame, brainwashing freaks.
But he let the fanboy side he saved for Hamilton and Harry Potter take over. Letting his eyes go big as dinner plates and his mouth hit the floor. Scott was grinning proudly.
"Yeah, and guess what?"
"W-What?"
"I met Green Arrow and the Flash!" He squealed. Oh for crying out loud! Not those two morons. Scott adored them too—it drove Richard mad-but he had to keep up the act. "And—and they took a selfie with me." Clowns. Scott proudly help up his phone.
Flash had his arm draped around Richard's best friend's shoulders—giving the camera a thumbs up. Scott was wearing Arrow's hat, so the blond masked man looked weird. The archer was the one taking the photo, flashing a smirk and a peace sign. GA's arms were so long you could see Mr. and Mrs. Daniels looking on in the background. Scott beaming like a mad man. Both in the picture and in real life.
Richard gave the most jealous look he could. While he was gagging inside.
"So cool."
He wished Scott would shut up about the stinking Hall of Justice. Yeah, justice must really be messed up if kidnapping and brainwashing kids fit the job description. But he bared it all for the sake of two people. Scott and Richard himself. Scott would be in trouble if he found out about Richard's past. Master might hurt him. Master would definitely hurt Richard, and also—Scott could no longer be his friend. Richard needed a friend—badly. Scott kept him feeling like a normal kid, a little.
There were times he lost his mind. He felt like a soldier. Where he couldn't feel….himself. Where he felt like a weapon. He knew he was—he could kill a man with a gun or knife. But sometimes he felt…..empty. And Scott—the fact that a normal kid, thought he was cool was enough.
They bid each other a 'see ya later'. Richard let the rest of his free time run out as he listened to comedy sketches and a few pieces of ribbon art. Switching from his baggy sweat shirt he switched into a less formal uniform. Not his mission one, but one close like it.
"Oh, hey Will." He waved at the older man. He had gotten back sometime.
"Didn't you hear me calling you?"
"Oh…sorry. Headphones were in."
Will sighed, smiling all the less. "Training?"
"Yep," Richard grabbed a water bottle. "Do you know when my master's coming back?"
"Not exactly—but I imagine soon. Your mission went well?"
"Yeah—it's not like S.T.A.R. Labs gets the best guards." He smirked to himself. Will nodded, beginning on dinner. Richard took a double check on the stove clock. 2:15, so dinner in three or so hours.
"You took your medicine, correct?" He nodded as Will turned to look at him. "Good. Now hurry along, before someone looks in the window and sees you wearing that."
"Sure." Yeah that would be weird to see him wearing this. So he hurried along, going through his warm up to his music. Rule was—he could listen to music during warm ups and cool down. But not during sparring, weapons training—but he could listen to it during endurance if he was running.
Today he hoped for a challenge.
Breakline
Will couldn't say the boy hadn't grown on him in the past five years. Richard was a good kid. He was friendly, he was hard working. He had truly grown stronger, braver—ever since Slade stopped treating him like an animal. He could tell the child had grown on Slade as well.
Even as Richard stopped suffering under a whip—he was being mistreated through those pills. They robbed him of memories. The Richard William knew wasn't the real one. The pills had reworked his character. It was better than hearing the child scream for every mistake he made, sometimes those mistakes were made up.
But it was the look it those eyes as the pills were mentioned. They lighted up. Richard had to take them, Will had seen his headaches take place. But it wasn't healthy! He depended on them to keep him out of pain.
Richard enjoyed taking them. No teenager, Richard was only thirteen, should be taking pills—drugs like that and enjoying them. That was a problem. And it would have to be fixed.