Chapter One: A Demon's Youth
"What do you mean I have to be eight?!"
Dick stared at Bruce in shock. His tail whipped around furiously and his horns were emitting a navy blue dust. "What do you mean I have to be eight!" Dick stood up from his navy blue chair and continued to look at the vigilante in disgust. The Batcave was eerie in the night, the emptiness creating a constant echo in the cave. Bruce sat in the chair of the Batcomputer and glanced over at Dick.
"Yes. Eight. Your cover says that your family were murdered when you were eight."
Dick furrowed his eyebrows and his tail swished around in confusion. "That still doesn't say why I have to be eight…" Dick was perfectly capable of becoming an eight-year old, it wasn't hard. But the fact that he had to, just made it more infuriating. Plus, why would Bruce Wayne of all people adopt an eight year old? It didn't make sense to the demon, not that much in the human world did. Why make English so difficult, was one.
"It makes it more likely for you to be accepted into society. After all, an eight year old witnessing the murder of his parents would be a pitiful sob story." Bruce responded, turning to face the thirteen demon. Dick pouted, sitting back into his chair. Sometimes, he wondered why he even made the deal with the human. He's peculiar.. That's why. Dick sighed and the dust stopped fuming from his horns and his tail swished around.
"We'll have to do something about those, too."
Dick's tail lashed out at the nearby equipment and pulled down a chair. "I'm a demon. I'm not getting rid of the horns and the tail. I would look stupid."
"You would look human." Bruce countered. Dick growled and his tail crackled again, before Dick sighed. Bruce smirked in triumphantly and turned to face the computer. Dick turned around and held his tail in his hand. At that very second, an alert blared on the vibrant screen of the Batcomputer. The Batman insignia showed on the screen, with the words 'BARTHOLOMEW' under it. Dick's teeth clenched and a dark aura appeared around him. Bruce looked over at Dick.
"Get dressed. Robin is making his debut." Dick whooped, his personality changing with those simply words. To others, Robin may seem like a stupid name. But he liked the name. The bird 'Robin' always intrigued him. Their eggs were such a bright shade of blue that was against the usual white color of eggs. Dick simply liked their color; and the fact that they were different, too.
"Make sure to be eight years old." Cue the Bat ruining his day.
"What, why?" Dick was on the verge of just blowing up the place (not really, of course. The Alfred person was actually really nice, and he'd prefer if he didn't get blown up.)
"Future purposes." Was all the answer Dick was getting, he knew. Dick sighed and waved his arm and a short 'POP!' sound later, Dick was gone and in his place was an eight year old. His hair was still black for sure, but his eyes were covered with a domino mask and he wore a red shirt (with Kevlar, of course… even though it wouldn't affect him too much) and yellow 'tights', with a yellow cape. Bruce - now Batman - raised an eyebrow at the outfit.
Robin blushed and kicked his feet. "You were the one to say "be eight years old.""
Gotham was one of the most extravagant human civilizations Robin had ever seen. The way the buildings sparkle with dazzling diamond encrusted walls, ruby lined windows, and quartz filled floors always amazed Robin at their rich capabilities. Yet, he loved the darkness that fell over the city with villains, the demon part of him slightly loving the evil that delved in the alleyways. He looked over at Batman who discreetly nodded before he shot out his grappling hook and flying towards Wayne Enterprises. Robin couldn't help but cackle as the rush of excitement filled his skin. The ironic part was Bartholomew was attempting to enter Wayne Enterprises for Project STAR's sister weapon, Project STELLA (Space Technology E-Friendly Longer Life Advancement.) STELLA was an alien based weaponry that was able to quickly heal organic materials in space or on Earth. However, it required many alien based liquids to create the weapon, which was in unstable condition. And Robin knew that was exactly what Bartholomew was after. Bartholomew had thought that Diavol was an alien and sought out to kill him, even going out to stealing to end him. For whatever the reason, Diavol thought of him as boring and wanted to get rid of him. But, he knew that Batman didn't condone killing… which was quite sad, in Robin - or should he say Diavol's case
Robin followed Batman into Bruce Wayne's office, the window behind them missing a circle of glass. It doesn't matter, Robin thought. Bruce Wayne could just pay for it all over again. It's not like they could charge Batman, anyways. The hallway to the Lab were quartz filled, black rimming indicating the direction of the lab. The soon-to-be Dynamic Duo slipped into the shadows and opened the door to the lab. There stood Bartholomew, standing greedily over the mixtures with his costume of a motorcyclist. Robin glanced over at Batman, who nodded. They had quickly discussed their plan earlier. Robin makes an appearance, gets Bartholomew's attention, and Batman knocks him out. Simple. For humans, at least. Honestly, Diavol would love to toy around, making Bartholomew jump in fear (and die… hopefully.) But he stuck with the plan - they had a deal.
Robin cackled eeringly and stepped into the light, the noise resonating off the walls. Bartholomew stopped and turned to face the young vigilante. Bartholomew smirked and chuckled deeply. "They sen' a ki' to stop me? Heh, got'a give cred'it to them for not trippi'n the alarm, 'oe."
Robin wrinkled his nose in disgust, and spoke with a voice of an eight year old. "I would usually take credit, but coming from you, that'd be downright embarrassing!" Robin quickly took a birdarang out of his pocket, and felt a small swell of pride for the comeback.
Bartholomew snarled and he got out a knife. "Look, I 'ont usually hurt little ki's like you, but you shoul' know not to play with 'a big guys."
"He doesn't have to." Bartholomew was slammed into the ground with a tough CRACK from a gloved fist. The villain yelped as his head made in contact with the ground, the mixtures spilling onto the ground. Robin, under his mask, rolled his eyes. The dude was a clutz, he was surprised he even came so far. Batman grabbed the man's arms and twisted them behind his back. "Why are you after the chemicals, Bartholomew?"
Bartholomew snarled, obviously less afraid than the first time. His accent suddenly perished. "If you knew, you'd be thanking me." Bartholomew kicked out at Batman, and he was forced to step backwards. Bartholomew yanked out his hands and grabbed the nearby remains of the mixture. "That little pest kills, Batman! It tortures, It curses, it goddamn is against the living! If anything, you should be helping ME! THAT LITTLE BASTARD IS-" Bartholomew screamed as he clutched his head, and he suddenly fell to his knees. Robin smirked from under his mask, a dark mist forming around his hand. Batman looked over at Robin and growled, obviously not enjoying the mental torture.
Robin looked down shamelessly before waving his hand and Bartholomew collapsed, as Robin's hand flickered from a black mist to a solid human hand. Robin felt a flush of embarrasment catch up to him as Batman motioned for him to escape with the new found circle in the wall. Robin shuffled towards the circle and grappled out, the rush fading away.
"What were you thinking?"
Dick growled as his tail lashed out against the punching bag, curling around it with suffocating strength. "He deserved it. What right does HE have for-"
Bruce pulled off his cowl, his eyes burning with emotion. "He's human, Diavlo -" Dick flinched at the demon name, the aura around himself flickering to life - "Dick. His mind can't take too much." Bruce paused, talking under a whisper.
Dick hissed and yanked the punching bag to the ground, a sickening tearing sound emitting from the bag. Demons were sterotyped as horrible, life-hating creatures. He coud tell you that all of that was true. Dick had tortured. Dick had cursed - No. Dick hadn't done any of those things. Diavol had. And that was who he was, even if it wasn't apparent enough. The aura around Dick darkened, his horns now steaming with blue dust and his tail was crackling against the air. Humans were always his least favorite, he had wished all of them to just go away. They always thought of themselves high and mighty, above all with their 'intelligence.' Puh-lease. Dick could tell you any millenia that humans were the most naive creatures in the galaxies. And he hated it. If only the rest had saw how humans treated DEMONS, then maybe he wouldn't make circuses long and bitter. But for now, demons had been resorted to making deals, torturing, and hiding among them to give the leg-walkers what they deserved.
"Humans are sickening creatures, Wayne. Now, future, past, forever. They all deserve to die." His silvertongue seething with hatred, his aura turning a sharpened red. "And you make no exception."
The demon turned and disintegrated into smokiness before heading to his room, knowing full well that rest could help simmer his mind.
Demons don't have dreams. Since demons usually don't sleep, they don't have dreams. Instead, the float inside their subconscious and drift through memories. Demons also have the ability to contact the real world using a ghost-like substance while dreaming. Advanced, Trained Demons can do much more, like fight while being intangible. Inside their minds, they can control anything as long as it was inside their mind. Of course, Dick knew this. He was a demon, after all. Dick drifted through the endless scenes of memories, the good and the bad. He felt a rush of emotion if he looked at one. And so, snapping his fingers to create a couch, Dick stared at the memories rushing in.
Diavol - the name 'Dick' not exsisting in this memory - cackled at the begging figure at his feet. Diavol crouched down at the pale-white human, his horns spiked flawlessly, his tail whipping around dangerously. "Oh hello little human!" Diavol cooed, and cackled maniacally. The woman was shaking with fright, strangled noises emitting in her throat. "You see, Janette, I was a bit… bored this evening. I'm sure your husband won't mind if I… play around for a bit…" Diavol grabbed the woman's arm viciously and threw her into the wall. Her mute screams made Diavol's tail crackle with pleasure. The aura around Diavol darkened as his eyes brightened against the pall. "You see… I don't like short and sweet…" Diavol stood close to the sweating woman, his nose barely touching hers. "I like long and bitter… circuses that don't end!" He cackled loudly and flipped backwards before waving his hand, now glimmering with a red and royal blue. "This is a game I call Omori!" He laughed loudly as the woman's screams were now echoing across the empty room. The woman clutched her head and yelled in agony, twisting and turning with tears streaming down her cheek. The demon kneeled down beside the pained woman and his silvertongue spoke. "If only you wouldn't have sent your dear husband away…" He clicked his tongue. "Playing with three is much more fun." Diavlo's eyes glowed, burning the woman's now-open eyes with fright. She screamed again, and Diavlo heard a faint siren in the distance. Diavlo stood up, his black messy hair matted with light blood. With one quick wave of his hand, his body turned into a smoky-substance as the woman, Janette was rocking herself with the hellbent insanity. A demonic torture that young demons would play with. Diavlo wasn't insane… it was just part of his evil, hellish creature.
Dick felt himself shiver with pleasure at the memory, a quarter of his mind revolted by his obvious happiness. He was just a young demon, after all. He wanted to have fun when he could.
