Dick Grayson.
A fourteen-year-old acrobat, one of the five members of the Flying Graysons.
A world class act that travelled with Haly's International Travelling Circus.
He and his family were the highlight event of the show and they performed some of the most dangerous acts on the trapeze, all with no net.
Hours and hours were spent into rehearsing the routines and tricks that ultimately moulded the finishing performances that shaped the reputation the act has.
The trailer rolled around roughly, shuddering to a stop as they reached the site they would be staying at for a month- due to high demands and Haly's personal connection to the city. Dick groaned as his head hit the top of his bed, and rubbed his mop of hair gingerly.
"Dick?" his mother's voice called, "Dick, you have to help unload the trailer, we're here."
"No, mum… still tired." Dick tried to get away from the noise and turned his head into the pillow. And suddenly the blanket was pulled off his body and a cold shiver ran up his spine. "Mum." He whined, curling his body up into a ball.
"Richard Grayson." Oh no, she was serious, "If you don't get your lazy behind out of that bed by the time we head down to the equipment trailer you won't be performing the finale." That got him up, no way was he missing a chance to perform the finale. The biggest trick the Grayson's had was something they were famous for, it's what out them on the map in the first place. And to hell if he had to get up now, he was not missing out.
"I'm up, I'm up." Dick said, shooting upright and jumping out of bed. Mary just chuckled and walked out telling him to get dressed first. Groaning and throwing on a t-shirt and leaving his sweatpants on he stumbled out to the kitchen where he was greeted with the smell of bacon and eggs.
"Morning, son." John Grayson greeted, passing Dick and ruffling his son's hair. Dick scowled mockingly and brushed his hair back down, ignoring the laughs his parents had let out. "I hope your ready for school today because the tutor's coming down in an hour."
Dick's fork dropped, "School?"
"School." John replied, taking another sip of his hot beverage. "And don't pester the tutor about English this time, we're going to be here a while and I don't want to have to get more than one tutor for you."
"No promises, it's not my problem they are not whelmed." Dick grumbled, taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Chewing slowly as his parents just laughed and continued talking to one another.
It was great. His cousin would be coming over soon, he always did, and they would go feed the animals before he had to sit down and learn. He hated his tutors; none of them seemed to understand that he got the basic stuff. He was sat down in a chair for three hours solving stupid algebra questions.
His parents really had no idea how he had become so intelligent, but they took it as a blessing and worked with the tutors to try and get Dick more mind appropriate work sheets to do. But the tutors that walked in and out of their circus had the same mind set that because he wasn't learning all the time he was falling behind in his year age studies.
One day he had a break through with a tutor, who finally saw the budding flower and allowed it to grow, giving Dick a laptop connected to a portable Wi-Fi spot he taught Dick how to use the block device. And through his own capabilities he figured out how to hack into the security system of the circus, gleefully watching everyone sound asleep as his prank was initiated, sending confetti out of the human cannons and causing the animals to cry out in fright.
Of course he had gotten in trouble for it, but he was let off after he told his parents how he figured out how to hack into different places by himself… no parent could not be not proud at that achievement. So he was allowed to perform the grand finale with his family that night, but he was one his last strike- one more and he would be cleaning after the elephants for a month.
Dick knew his place in the world.
He knew who he was.
What he was.
And who he would be.
He was Richard Grayson.
Acrobat extraordinaire.
Conner Kent was many things, he was quite, brooding, tempered, ignored and most importantly not his father.
Conner had an odd relationship with the man who have him life, he had idolized the man, wanting to be like him, do something realistic and helpful in the world. But when he was dumped with Clark Kent he quickly learned not to expect much.
His mother had told him that it was a high school fling, and that he had no idea about him. So when she got ill she wrote in her will for him to live with his father. Then three days later she passed away, they didn't find out what the illness was, just that it was fast, dangerous and not contagious.
He had been ignored by his biological father, who claimed he was too busy at work. Thankfully, his girlfriend was extremely nice and didn't ignore him, often going out to the supermarket or to watch his games. Lois Lane was some one he decided to trust, and his trust wasn't easily earned.
At school he was doing okay, he was an average student and his grades were consistent. He had a group of friends, Mal Duncan, his mate from the football team, Marvin, a weird geek who just crawled his way into their hearts and other people he couldn't, or hadn't bothered to, remember.
Conner didn't talk much either, just grunts and nods normally was the reply to anything anyone said to him. No one ever expected more, except on the field- but that was a given. He didn't normally spurt out long sentences out the history of China, although he did know.
Truthfully Conner liked school, he especially liked history. But the problem was that he knew nearly everything that mankind knew about their time on earth, he didn't know how because they had never studied it in school- but he did.
He was officially known throughout the school as Superboy- a nickname that generated from his father because, like him, he was one of the key players in the Metropolis High School football team. Everyone around the state knew him, he had been hunted down by some colleges and because he was still a good two years in high school they kept tabs on him.
Kind of creepy, but kind of cool- to know someone was taking interest in him.
There were three things that his dad did: Work, Eat and Sleep.
Three things that went around in a cycle of never ending boringness. And Conner hated it. He hated that Clark Kent, journalist extraordinaire, made no time for his own son. The only word that could come to mind when thinking of his father now was douche.
"Conner?" Mal asked, waving his hand over his face.
"What, Mal?" Conner said boredly, picking at his food- which honestly could look a lot worse.
"I was just asking if you were coming to training tonight, it's a extra practice for the newbies on the team." Mal asked, taking a bit out of his sandwich, which he had smartly brought on home. Conner grunted, "I'm taking that a yes?"
"Sure, I've got nothing better to do." Conner shrugged. Clark wouldn't be worrying about him and he could just text Lois about staying late at school. He didn't think they'd think much of it anyway, the office makes both of them work longer hours.
"Great," Mal grinned, "I wasn't sure if you were going because Coach Smith adores you, and I'm sure he'd left you off the hook for not showing to a newbie practice. Besides, everyone knows you don't need to study for midterms- you're like a walking textbook."
"Yeah- funny." Conner rolled his eyes.
"Hey, you're mum coming to watch the game on Saturday?" Marvin asked, knowing that Lois held an important position within the Daily Planet. Conner just shook his head, not bothering to retort and put it straight once again, that Lois wasn't his mother.
"Your dad?" Marvin pestered on. Not realising the depths he had just went to. Mal and Conner glared at him with protective fierceness and he immediately shied away from the dangerous glares. "Sorry."
Conner just shook his head and played with his food again. maybe one day his dad would accept him, and then he would really be happy...
Her body was screaming at her, the deep gash in her leg burning, but she pushed all the injures she had counted to the back of her mind. She was fighting against a tougher, stronger, older opponent someone that she didn't know if she could kill, but obviously the feeling wasn't returned.
But she would go down fighting, Artemis Crock was no coward, till death do us part.
A kick, a punch, a jab, a roll. The routine perfectly embedded into her mind, literally tattooed into the side of her brain. She knew it back to front, front to back, middle to outer, but no matter how many times she practiced her opponent knew it better.
Jade, a natural prodigy, she had no problem with continuing the family business, she just didn't like dad. But she stuck around, for Artemis' sake. But Artemis knew she was going to leave any day now. Sadly that day came sooner than later.
When she was nine and her mother had just been put in a wheelchair and a jail cell, Jade had quickly gotten angry with dad. Their ideas on how to raise Artemis clashing and resulting in another broken window or table in the apartment.
Then, she packed and left.
Artemis hasn't seen or heard from her since.
One of her last words to her sticking in her mind, 'In this family, it's every girl for herself…'
She had tried on so many different levels to prove her wrong, that their family was stronger than them on their own. But she had failed to prove it, even to herself. She knew that Jade was right, it was every girl for herself, her mum was still in prison and Jade obviously not coming back, she only had her dad.
Sportsmaster. A trained hit man married to Huntress, a trained since birth assassin. His daughter, Jade, was a martial arts enthusiast. She knew Jade, and no matter how many times Jade said she could hide her emotions, Artemis knew when Jade was enjoying herself and when she was doing it to take the workload off of her younger sister.
She was glad that at sixteen she hadn't been dragged to one of her dad's missions. Because all she knew was that when ever he came home from one he stuck like blood. And that was something she didn't want on her hands.
Artemis had been taught at school about Human Rights. She knew in her mind she had rights, but her mouth and her brain seemed to have a scratchy connection, sometimes she found it so hard to say what she wanted, to express her feelings without fear of punishment.
Maybe that sense of completion and proud completion would come, and only come, when she left like Jade. Disappeared without a trace and never look back, she would love to be free- travel the country. But then came the hard parts. She wasn't very god at keeping a low profile, and she also didn't have a car or license.
She was more sympathetic than her mother, father and sister combined. She had a heart that she didn't want to taint with cold blood, or warm or hot blood for that matter. Artemis knew she was going to get out of this. She would be the one to break the chain of criminals her family had produced, and she would be proud.
Yet here she was, at five o'clock in the morning, getting up to train.
Clad in yoga pants and a tank top she made her way out to the top of the roof. Where her father would, no doubt, reprimand her for being late and lazy. Again.
Sure enough Lawrence Crock was standing tall, arms crossed and eyes narrowed on top of the stairwell. He gave her one look and she knew that this training was going to be hard- harder.
"Your late, baby girl." He sneered, she glared back. Artemis hated the nickname baby girl, it was so stupid and other parents had used it in a loving and kind way- not to make their daughters feel smaller.
"I know." Artemis gritted between her teeth, griping her bow tighter, her knuckles turning white. She could almost see the white-hot pain she was trying to inflict on her dad, but sadly she couldn't because she didn't have the ability to.
"Let's get started."
And she knew that going to school this morning would be harder than walking through a brick wall.
That day still haunts her- it was the day she lost a dear friend.
She remembers snippets, she had taught herself to block ugly memories from resurfacing, but the screaming was what she couldn't escape- could never escape.
It was the shrill cry of her friend when she knocked down the bathroom door and finally understood why she had taken so long in there.
"Get out of here!"
She remembers vividly the events that unfolded after that, she screamed at her to stop- stop killing herself.
She remembers the profound cursing that the girl had spat at her.
She remembers the emotions controlling her actions as she tried to stop her friend from making a mistake that she would regret.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't have to tell you anything, go away!"
"You're killing yourself! Don't do this!"
"Watch me."
She remembers darting forward and trying to take that damned bottle of pills out of her hands.
She remembers her crying while they fought.
"Stop fighting me, I need this. Please. I need this."
She remembers the shattering of the square mirror hanging over the sink. The scream of terror that escaped her own mouth, her throat hoarse from shouting at her to stop.
"Zatanna!"
Then her friend dropped like a rock when she had thrown herself against the sink, her head hitting the corner of the basin with such force that it left a deep gash in her forehead.
"Help! Someone! Anyone! Help!"
After that everything became blurry and unwanted- she didn't want to remember because that's where she lost a friend, her only friend.
She vaguely remembers calling an ambulance, and telling the sisters what had happened. She also remembers the paramedics breaking in and rushing her into the ambulance, she tried to follow- but only family were allowed on board.
"Let me on! She's my friend, she has to be okay!"
"Miss, only family are permitted in the ambulance. You will have to stay here."
To which she retorted was stupid because where they live, they don't have family, yet they still allowed Sister Esther aboard because she is one of the legal guardians.
It had been days now, and she had gotten word from the sisters that they had to move her to an institution, somewhere where the looney's were kept and looked after because they were a menace to society.
"She's being kept at the institution. It's for the best, she'll be safe there."
That was the last she had heard about her friend.
The whole house had been told and mourned her as if she had died- she clearly hadn't. The young girls hollered like they were set alight, everyone had loved her- she was a diamond in the ruff. A personality to match her beautiful face, a smile that could make you laugh without making a sound, and a mischievousness about her that often got her in trouble with the sisters- but she was always forgiven quickly.
It was how they had immortalised her in a painting the children spent on every afternoon after lunch. Because that's the time they lost her to the cruel world, after lunch on the third day of the week- exactly five years to date.
The children weren't children anymore; they had given up their innocence and stopped painting the painting. All that was left of her friend now was her room- rumours had travelled around the orphanage fast that her room had been haunted by the previous owner, and the spirit drove her insane enough to attempt to take her own life.
"To this day, the spirit of Kirwan haunts her old room, if you go anywhere near it- she'll latch onto you and drive you crazy."
"That's a lie! Your just trying to scare us."
"Oh? Then do you know the story of Zatanna?"
"No."
"That was her old room, Kirwan's room, the spirit haunted her- drove her crazy. Three years ago, Zatanna tried to take her own life. No one knows where she is, she was taken by the institution and never heard of again."
She thought the rumours were frivolous, but the new kids seemed to believe in the story- they didn't dare go within a ten-foot radius of her room.
The only people that entered it now were the sisters, just because they cleaned it up to stop everything from being covered in dust. It was kind of creepy; it was like a personal shrine to her. Like she was a god in this house, her spirit 'forever lived among us'.
God, sometimes she thinks that the people that look after them at the orphanage think she's well and truly dead. It's unnerving because everyone knows she still alive; they just don't know where she could be.
A/N: Okay! So this is my newest story line up, and I would really appreciate it if I got some reviews just to see what people like, dislike, would like to see... So I can incorporate it into the story, with my own limits of course. Yeah, so please leave a review, it would be really greatly appreciated.