A/N: In the last story, Slade's New Toy, I received a review asking what would happen to Robin. Well, if you're still with me in this story, then here is the start of his role.
P.S. Don't worry if he sounds like a psycho…
~snow
Chapter Five: Murder
Robin PoV.
"Hey James, I'm heading out. Tell Dale that I'll review his papers in the morning if he shows up."
"Yep," James mumbles into his computer screen.
I fling my black jacket over my shoulder by a hooked finger as I make my way out of my office and to my car. The police station was settling down, but only slightly as the nightshift was about to start. I bounce down the big steps in front of the station and over to the parking area.
A shadowy figure catches in my peripheral; I turn but nothing is there.
To anyone on the street I would look cautious. But to anyone who knows the old Robin, then they know I saw Her.
I know it's Her, I can feel it. Sometimes I hear her calling my name, but no one else hears it. Bruce says I'm suffering from trauma. But I don't feel threatened or scared; it doesn't feel traumatic to me.
It feels like I am indebted to Her; like I need to find her and worship Her. She is a God and I am Her servant.
Sometimes I'll hear Her call and then black out. I've woken up hours later, and even days. But I always wake up on my apartment floor.
Always home, no matter where I was before I blacked out.
My psychologist says muscle memory pushes my body home each time.
I never remember. Ever.
It's always about Her.
My breath catches in the air as fog and disperses seconds later. The sidewalk under my feet is slick and frozen, yet there is no snow. Not yet at least.
Raven PoV
It's been two months since that strange dream where I was running with the baby. My baby. I haven't checked on her in four years. I left her in the hands of a good friend from Azarath. I had learned that she escaped to Earth just before Azarath was destroyed, and she was the one that helped me most when I did escape the first time. She also helped raise me; Alana Kirkov.
The last time I checked, Alana lived in Moscow, Wisconsin. But as I search for her now I can't find her there. Instead, I find newspaper articles of her gruesome murder from a few weeks ago in a new town where they moved to a few years ago, Lithonwood.
I know Lithonwood, or at least what it holds. I know who I tried to protect her from lives there. The evils that poison the man I used to apprentice under. And the man who stole my senses for just one night, that added to an unforgivable mistake.
And then another story I find is about her husband, who was murdered four days later. The children in the group home were now scattered acrossed Wisconsin. My first thought was to adopt Azula. But I notice that two of the children went missing directly after Alana's murder.
Azula was one of them.
I slam my laptop closed and look out the window down at Gotham for a brief moment, trying to sort things out. Gotham was a cruel place for those who didn't know any better, and at night the only beauty I found was in the lights of the non stop cars and building that surrounded my apartment. And occasionally the light of the bat signal would show in the sky in the distance.
Azula was out there somewhere, and I hoped to God or the Devil or whoever answers a half-Demon prayer, that she was safe. The whole reason why I trusted Alana with her is to keep her safely away from me. If I was to find her, I sure as hell wouldn't tell her I was her mother. That was for the best, I think.
But I have to make sure she is safe, no matter the cost.
Seconds later, my phone beeps. I open my cheap throw away phone and read an address and a name. Well this is interesting. My boss, the mob boss of Gotham; Falcone, Mario Falcone has a hit for me. A name and address are on the text. Might as well, I have to check up on things in Lithonwood, anyways.
Looks like Slade got on the bad side of the wrong people.
I get up and dig in my small closet for my duffel bag, and then pack a few clothes and essentials. I grab my fake ID and shove it in my purse along with a wad of five thousand dollars. According to my fake ID, my name is Sarah Steiner and I am twenty-six. My actual age was thirty-five, though I stopped aging after twenty-five thanks to my Demon heritage.
One more glance in the mirror tells me that I'm ready to go. I pull my black hair into a ponytail behind my head; my hair turned itself naturally to a black when Azula was born. A perk of being half demon, I suppose. And since then I've only cut it a few times, now it's mid to lower back length. But, luckily, my eyes remained the same purple as before. My grey dress shirt was mostly hidden by my black petticoat, and my dress slacks just reached my ankles where they meet with a sleek pair of black high heel boots. A few secret compartments in the boots dispensed knives, though airport security was unlikely to find them even with the help of x-ray scanners and metal detectors.
Two hours later, I board my plane at Gotham airport to a town nearby Lithonwood. The actual town of Lithonwood was so small that the only airport it had was privately owned. And even if I did land there, it would raise too much suspicion, and Slade would know as soon as I set foot in town that something was up, anyways.
o\0\8/0/o
Two days later, I finally arrive. I am in Lithonwood. The very root of evil I had avoided since my escape from the apprenticeship. I do not miss it one bit.
I bought a large house, six bedrooms and four bathrooms, during my first day on the road. The house was placed on a whopping four hundred acres on the outskirts on town, on the opposite side of Slades mansion.
I suppose I had just bought a mansion, too, with half of my life savings from working as a mercenary in different countries. I never worked as a gun for hire in the U.S. because I wanted to stay as far away from Slade as possible. Although, in recent years, I fell into place working with the Falcone family in Gotham city which was easy money.
The house was old, too, it was probably built around the mid 1800's. It had a wrap-around porch with a faded coating of blue paint with white trim. The inside was still furnished from the forties, though it all lay under sheets of dust protectors. I bought the house from the grandkids of who originally lived there, as they had died quite some time ago.
After several hours of cleaning the necessary rooms, I felt the need to visit the local coffee shop. I ordered my tea from the coffee shop and walked around on the streets for a bit to get an understanding of the town.
And as I walked the streets, my confidence grew; I would find Azula before her father did.