A/N: I'm going to be using some Russian in this story and I'm, of course, using my buddy Google to translate. But if I'm just slaughtering the language, someone please let me know and I'll be happy to change it. I hope that you guys enjoy this. I'm the type of person who loves long chapters, so I've made mine the same. If it gets too dry, just let me know. Thank you all for reading and remember to give me the ol' review if you like.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Batman. If I did I would be insanely rich. Maybe richer than Bruce Wayne himself.
[1]: Father
[2]: Sister
[3]: "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
[4]: "Thank you."
Resurrection
The Trigger
The morning had started off extremely early–at three, to be precise–with her mother and father stumbling into their apartment, screaming at one another in their native tongue. And she might have been fluent in Russian, but they were so loaded that she had no idea what they were talking about. The teenager was sure they would eventually get to their room within the hour and then she would fall asleep for another couple of hours, but she heard another door opening and closing and glanced in panic toward the empty bed in the room with her.
Anastasia flung herself out of bed and opened the door to her father screaming for her little sister to get to bed. The five-year-old whimpered and remained against the door, unable to move with someone yelling in her face.
"Karina," the elder sister shoved against their father and hoisted the child up on her hip, "come on. You need to get some sleep. We have school tomorrow." She sent a pointed look toward their parents.
"Why doesn't sheget a job and support us?" Their father screamed toward their mother in a thick accent. "Why do you keep bothering me about getting one as soon as I loose one?"
The fifteen-year-old might have been able to ignore her father but he grabbed her shoulder roughly, snarling in Russian once again. Anastasia gritted her teeth and opened her and Karina's bedroom door, plopping her baby sister on the ground and murmuring for her to get to bed. Karina whimpered something in Russian and clung onto her sister's shirt, but Anastasia smiled and patted her on the rump, telling her she would be back in a few minutes.
When the teenager turned around, she crossed her arms over her chest and faced her father with a scowl. Although her mother tried to remain between the two of them, he shoved her onto the nearby couch, screaming for her to stay obedient for once and not move from her spot.
"I have a job. I've told the two of you time after time that I'm babysitting for the working parents around the neighborhood." Anastasia stressed those two words. "And neither of you are getting my money because you're just going to use it to get loaded or drunk. I'm saving it so that I can get the hell out of here withKarina."
"Don't talk to me like that, girl." He snarled. "I am your father. Give me all the money you've made. It is your duty to help this family."
Anastasia's gaze narrowed. "This family. Not your drug problem, otets." [1]
The man snarled and raised his hand, backhanding his daughter across the face. A hiss of pain escaped her, tears collected in the corners of her eyes, but she steeled herself and looked back up at him.
"Fine. Have whatever you want. I'm going to bed." Anastasia turned around and opened the door. "It's not like either of you will remember this tomorrow considering the two of you are so loaded." She mumbled and slammed the door shut.
Anastasia sighed in exasperation and slid down against the door, glaring at the window when the still irate man pounded his fists against the other side. Eventually, her mother ushered him away with promises of more drugs that she had managed to acquire. It was a gift from someone that wanted her as a part of their business, she explained. And the teenager decided to push that to the back of her head. When it came to her parents habits, she tried to know as little and care as little as she could.
"Sestra, is it done?" Karina whispered timidly from her bed. [2]
"Come to bed with me and sleep." Anastasia lifted up from the door and slipped under her covers. When the little girl curled up against her older sister, the elder let out another sigh. "I'm going to get us out of here, Karina. I promise you that."
"Papa will be mad."
Anastasia never managed to fall asleep again.
Gotham Academy had never been the most welcoming of places to Anastasia. It was only through a scholarship from the academy that she had worked her ass off to get that got her into the school. Coming from the slums of Gotham, the children of the city's rich and elite didn't like their school "being littered by trash", as a few of them had so politely put to her within her first week.
To make her feel better about the fact that the next four years would be full of isolation was that she had more time to focus on her studies. It was through the academy that she had a sporting chance of going to college and making a better life for herself and, more importantly, Karina.
Anastasia made her way to the first class of her new schedule, ignoring the sneers and giggles coming from the so-called queens of Gotham Academy. After two weeks in the freshman history course, she felt she would do better at a higher level. History was a subject she both excelled at and enjoyed very much. The administration wasted no time in putting her into a higher leveled course since there was still time left for the students to rearrange their schedules.
"Your name, ma'am?" An elderly woman at the front of the classroom inquired as soon as she entered the classroom.
"My name is Anastasia Azarova." She subconsciously rubbed at the bruise her father had left earlier in the morning that she had to cover up with makeup. "I was just transferred to this class."
The teacher smiled at her softly. "Alright then, dear. Go ahead and pick out a seat for yourself."
Anastasia turned around and took one of the few seats left in the room that was in the back and next to the window. Just as she was sitting down, someone dashed into the room, just mere minutes before the bell rung.
Said student approached her new desk and hovered over her. She glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow, her gaze roaming over his neatly styled black hair and locking with his striking blue eyes. With his size, she assumed that he was a freshman just as she was. But there was something familiar about him that she just couldn't put her finger on.
"Can I help you?" Anastasia inquired.
"You're kind of in my seat." Her face exploded in a blush and she opened her mouth to apologize, but he grinned and laughed at her. "It's no big deal. Just give me your name and I'll give you mine and we'll call it even, okay?"
It was the most pathetic way for someone to ask for her name, but she was just slightly impressed and played along. "It's Anastasia. Anastasia Azarova."
"Richard Grayson," he replied while sitting in the seat next to her. "But everyone just calls me Dick. Do you have a nickname, Anastasia?" He let her name roll off his tongue with a Russian accent.
"Sometimes Ana, but more often not." She shrugged. "Perhaps you should pay attention, Richard, since class just started." He pouted and she gave a small grin before turning her head toward the front of the classroom.
Wait a minute, Anastasia glanced toward the teenager on her right. Does he mean Richard Grayson as in the ward of Bruce Wayne? Her head cocked to the side. Isn't that just something?
Despite how whelming–courtesy of Dick Grayson's vocabulary–the day was, Anastasia was sure the day would just get worse.
And unfortunately, she guessed correctly.
Some friend of a family friend of Anastasia called her during lunch, asking if she would watch over a child while said parent went into work for some extra hours. Since she needed the money just as much as anyone else that lived near the Narrows, Anastasia accepted to stay until it was bedtime.
Of course being so close to the Narrows, Anastasia had to walk home alone and in the dark.
On her way home, the teenager heard the distinct sound of a gunshot so loud that she had to drop her books to cover her ringing ears. Picking up the largest rocks she was able to find on the ground, she looked to her left toward an open warehouse entrance and couldn't believe what she saw there.
Some man–and she had to assume he was part of the mafia since what he was wearing didn't belong in this neighborhood and clearly meant he was up to no good–had a gun pointed point-blank range at the head of–get this–Batman. Tied up next to him was, of course, Robin.
Now, she couldn't be sure of how the two got into this situation, but it appeared that their utility belts had been taken from them. And they appeared to be tied up pretty well–or pretty badly since, you know, they were the good guys. Oh, and that criminal seemed to be getting pretty close to them with that gun.
Anastasia could be smart and just walk away from the scene since these two were breaking the law just as much as that criminal holding the gun to their heads. She didn't need any more on her plate because she already had more than enough. And there would be no one to thank her because Batman and Robin just didn't seem like the thanking type of people.
But if she didn't at least try to help–enough for them to get themselves free–then the city would continue to decay and so many people would be without hope. And no one should do a good deed just to get thanked, anyway.
Looking at the collection of rocks in her hands, she nodded to no one in particular and concentrated, now full of determination. Moving as silently as she could toward the criminal without alerting any possible henchman, she watched the rocks begin floating in the air above her hand. Rapidly they spun and spun and when she felt they were at the right speed, she commanded they fly and hit the man on the back of his head which sent him onto the ground. Anastasia kicked the man in his side as hard as she could, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her onto the ground. She whimpered in pain but continued to fight and kicked him in the groin. Sure he wasn't going to get up for a few minutes, she grabbed his gun and smashed it on the ground.
"You damn little bitch." The man groaned while trying to stumble to his feet.
Anastasia struggled to sharpen the metal of the revolver with her abilities. It was much harder to refine the metal compared to the pure earth of a rock. When she was sure it was just enough to cut rope, she scurried toward the Dark Knight himself and began to cut at his ropes. She squeaked when the man grabbed the back of her head and jerked her away. It was just enough force, though, for the makeshift knife to cut into the ropes for Batman to break through them and smash his fist against the criminal's face.
"You're safe now." Batman told her while helping Robin with his own bonds.
"Ne dolzhen li ya skazat', chto s toboi?" She murmured with a shaky sigh. [3]
"Spasibo." Batman replied in fluent Russian which had her looking up at him in surprise–but seriously, it was the freaking Batman, so should she have been surprised that he knew Russian? No, probably not. [4]
"You're…welcome…" She replied while accepting a hand from the Boy Wonder and stood up.
Robin glanced over Anastasia before seriously stating, "that was pretty dangerous. Brave and heroic, but also stupid and dangerous." He frowned. "If he remembers your face–"
"I know what could happen, but it's nothing out of the ordinary for someone that lives close to the Narrows. A girl would appreciate someone escorting her home, though. Like, reallyappreciate that," she shyly requested.
The Batman approached the two of them. "Don't bring attention to yourself from now on." He was emotionless, but she could have sworn she heard him frown. "Unless its absolutely required, don't use your…abilities either."
"I was invisible before, sir. I'm sure it won't be hard to be like that again."
Once again, Anastasia was wrong.
Anastasia had hoped she could depend on her mother to pick up Karina from elementary school, but depending on a junkie for anything should have been a mistake she learned from–mother or not. So, when she returned to the apartment and found her parents strung out and passed out on the couch, she let out a near scream of frustration and turned around. She dashed out of the building, praying Karina didn't move from the safe–ish–grounds of the elementary school.
Halfway between the route to the school, Anastasia had been blocked by police who told her there was a crime scene and that she needed to turn around and go back home. The teenager shook her head, trying to push past them, explaining that she had to go pick up her baby sister. It was only when the man lifted her up to put her into some squad car that she saw a flash of familiar clothing and a backpack.
"That's my baby sister!" She screeched and pushed against the policeman. She dropped to the ground and managed to get into the middle of the crime scene where her precious sister lay in a pool of blood.
And the familiar piece of twisted metal was enough to tell her what had happened.
