All recognized characters belong to DC comics. The poem is original work done by my friend Tangerine and damn do I love that woman.
This story is going through an edit/rewrite. There will be a new chapter within the next 24 hours.
Warning! This chapter contains child abuse and detailed violence. It has possible triggers so skip to where the italics end if needed. Thank you.
Acacia leans against the window of the expensive car that Drake is driving. This is their first day working together since getting the project a week ago. She has been putting it off as long as possible, but eventually ran out of feasible excuses. She scowls angrily, Tim is persistent when he wants something and has focused that on her. The car—though it isn't really a car more like a limousine—slows as it passes the gates to Wayne Manor and comes to a stop inside a large garage that is possibly the size of an apartment. She moves to open the door, but the butler, Alfred Pennyworth beats her to it.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth," Acacia says, just because the man works for Wayne doesn't mean she can't be polite.
"Oh it's no trouble, Miss Dent. But, please, refer to me as Alfred." The elderly butler smiles at her genuinely; making her feel a twinge of guilt for the pain she is going to cause him. "Let me take your coat, Master Drake will show you to the study."
She hands him her thrift store coat, with its torn edges and stains, turning to look at Drake. He flashes a smile at her as he also hands Alfred his coat—new and nothing worn out about it—and turns to walk inside.
Acacia nearly shakes with anticipation, finally she will be able to plot out the Manor and find their secrets. She will have to be extremely cautious to do this. She hates to admit it, but Batman and his cohorts are not stupid or oblivious. They are calculating and each has their own specialty.
Nightwing is as graceful and precise as an acrobat, which is what he was before becoming Nightwing. Red Hood is more anti than hero and this allows him to think and predict the moves of villains better than even Batman; he also has no hesitation to shoot a bullet into someone's skull. Red Robin is a technical whiz, he is able to hack and develop the most complicated of systems; he has no equal that Acacia knows of. The current Robin is a mixture of all of them combined with League of Assassins training; he is ruthless and deadly, more so than Red Hood who grew up with Batman's limits and morals.
"You okay, Acacia? You've been standing there for a couple minutes." Tim is looking at her with amusement. "Is the grandeur and wealth of this place too much for you to handle?"
Acacia gives him a withering look. "Just because I live in an apartment that is more suited to be called a rat hole, doesn't mean your wealth amazes me."
"I like her."
Acacia turns to look at the top of the staircase, where Jason Todd is leaning against the banister with a devil-may-care smirk. Richard "Dick" Grayson is behind him, but smiling genuinely. Dick comes down the stairs, extending a hand, "I'm Dick Grayson; Mister Hot-shot over there is Jason Todd."
It takes years of training to be able to control your emotions and expressions like Acacia is able to. She became an actress at a young age, as a survival mechanism. She draws on her experience now to prevent herself from going up and stabbing him. Instead, she smiles and extends her hand, anticipating a handshake. She is taken by surprise when he pulls her into a hug.
She freezes, not knowing how to react. She has only been shown affection and kindness from her father and Crowe; the other Rouges have shown affection, but Ivy is the only one with a sense of 'normal' affection. Scarecrow's idea of affection is letting you drug his minions with fear gas and not being scolded for it.
"Grayson, what are you doing? Are you molesting that poor girl?"
Dick loosens his grip and she slips away, making sure the wall is at her back. The person who has just spoken is nine-year-old Damian Wayne. He speaks very formally and has a slight Arabic accent. He rolls his eyes at Dick as the man ruffles his hair and turns to the high school senior. "Hello, I am Damian Wayne. I apologize for the lack of civility these barbarians have. Would you like a tour?"
She smiles and her body relaxes, but she is still ready to run or fight at a moment's notice. "Hello, Damian. I'm Acacia Dent. It's a pleasure to meet you. A tour would be nice, but Drake and I have to work on an English project. Maybe another time?"
"Of course." He nods in an understanding way. "Would you like me to show you the study Father is allowing you to use? It seems your partner is…distracted."
Acacia turns and sees the Drake is mock-fighting with Todd and denying something with a furious blush across his cheeks. Acacia turns back to…well she can't call him Wayne, because that is his father. Perhaps Wayne Junior? It will have to do for now, until she can get 'home'. She tells him yes and follows him through the maze-like manor. Thank god that she has an eidetic memory and will be able to map this out later. The boy opens the door for her and she nods in thanks as she steps inside.
"Oh, Father, I did not realize that you are using this study. I was told this is the study for Drake and his English partner."
Acacia does not show any outward reaction, but her mind is whirling. She has never actually met Bruce Wayne, only seen him briefly each time she has been taken from her foster home for either abuse or neglect. She looks to see that he is smiling and raising his hand. From a blackened corner of her mind the memory of the family that doused fuel on the fire for her hatred of Batman.
~~I hid under my bed, squeezing my eyes shut and clutching desperately at Rachel. The man was drunk again, and when he was I was the target of his anger. I heard him shouting and throwing things around the house. He began storming to my room in his drunken rage. I began crying and shoved my face in Rachel's fur.
"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU STUPID BRAT!" he shouted, slamming the door open. "Quit hiding and get out here!" He then smashed through the room, looking for me. "There you are, you little bitch!" He grabbed my ankle and began dragging me out.
I screamed and desperately tried to struggle away. But my nine-year-old body was no match for this monster of a man. He dragged me into the living room and threw me against the coffee table. The woman scuttled over to me and pulled me to her body, trying to shield me from the man's rage.
"What are you doing, whore?! Trying to protect the thing! Are you saying it doesn't deserve to be punished?" The monster had stopped at the end of the hall, bloodshot eyes glaring at us.
"Please, John. She's just a child. It's not her fault that Two-Face made you lose your job." The woman was moving so that I was hidden behind her. The woman was Maria, and she was the only good thing that had happened this year. She showed me what having a mother was like. Whenever her husband came home drunk or high, she would try to protect me as best she could.
"I DON'T CARE! IT'S THE DAUGHTER OF THAT FREAK! IT DOESN'T DESERVE TO LIVE IN THIS HOUSE!" The monster then kicked Maria out of the way, making me cry out and reach for her. The monster then got between us and undid his belt and started beating me with it.
"No! John! Stop it! STOP IT!" Maria began trying to grab his arm. She managed to grasp it and stop him for a moment. He threw her across the room and into the wall. She hit it with a sickening thud and slumped to the floor. She didn't move.
"MARIA!" I screamed, crawling over to her.
"Oh no you don't," he growled. He stomped on me and I cried out, begging for my father to show up and kill this man. He began kicking and stomping on me as I curled into a ball. I started sobbing. "SHUT UP!" he bellowed. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"Stop it! Stop hurting me! DADDY! DADDY, HELP ME!" I screamed for my father, for someone to make this man stop hurting me.
The door to the house was kicked in and I raised my head slightly to see Nightwing in the doorway. He seemed to be furious, a rage that grew when he saw me. He launched himself at the monster, driving him away from me. I then crawled over to Maria.
"Maria! Maria, wake up! Wake up, Mommy, wake up!" I shook her arm, begging her to open her eyes and see that everything would be fine. I crawled into her lap, crying into her chest. I couldn't hear her heart. She was dead. Dead, dead, dead. It was all Batman's fault. If he hadn't taken me from Daddy then Maria would still be alive.
I heard sirens and people shouting, but I didn't care. Maria was dead and she was never coming back. She was never going to hug me and tell me that I was pretty. Never again would she sing me to sleep. She would never be able to teach me all of the dessert recipes we had planned out. The only woman who had ever been my mother was gone and I would never find another one.
"Nightwing, enough!"
I lifted my head slightly and saw Batman standing in the doorway, glowering at Nightwing. Nightwing was crouched over the unconscious monster, breathing heavily. He stood up and snarled at the dark man, "Do you see what he did? He killed that woman and was going to kill Acacia! He deserves more!"
"He will. But we are not the law." Batman turned to where me and Maria were.
"Stay away from us! You did this!" I gripped Maria's shirt tightly. He had made Maria die. If I hadn't been here, she would have never died and would be happy.
He strode over and yanked me from Maria's body. I screamed and thrashed in his grip, desperately struggling to escape his grasp. He held me with ease and shoved me at Nightwing, before talking to someone on his blue-tooth.
Nightwing held me firmly, stroking my head. I gripped his neck tightly and sobbed. "I want Rachel."
"Rachel?"
"My pony. Daddy gave her to me." I clenched my hands against his suit. "She's under the bed."
He walked toward the back of the house. I could feel the growl in his chest as he saw my 'room'—which had been a closet when I got here. He set me down and I crawled under the bed to get Rachel. When I didn't come back out, he crouched down to look at me.
"Acacia? You have to come out of there. I need to take you to the hospital." He sounded so sincere and worried, but I knew he was lying. He had lied about being Daddy's friend, so why wouldn't he lie now?
"No. You'll make me go to a bad place. I don't wanna go to a bad place again."
He got down on his knees and stretched his hand out to me. "You won't go to a bad home again." His eyes were soft and sincere and I wanted so badly to believe him. "I promise that I will find you a good place to go."
"Promise? Pinky promise?" My hand trembled as I stretched my pinky toward his.
"Yes. I pinky promise." His large pinky curled around mine for several moments, before he let go. "I need to take you to a hospital first okay? You need to get your wounds bandaged."
I nodded and he moved away from the bed as I crawled out with a filthy, dusty Rachel in one hand. I stretched my arms toward him and he picked me up tenderly. I trusted him. But I had forgotten he was a liar.
But I was soon reminded. ~~
She smiles and puts her hand in Gotham's wealthiest man's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Wayne. Father speaks highly of you."
His eyes narrow the slightest bit for a mere moment before he grasps her hand in a firm handshake. "I'm glad. Harvey and I were always good friends. Please, call me Bruce; make yourself at home." He flashes a charming smile. "I have to go make some calls now, but feel free to ask for anything you need."
As he turns and walks out the door, Acacia follows his movement with cold violet eyes. ~Ask for anything, huh? Would your head on a pike be too much?~ She then turns and smiles at Damian, "Would you mind showing me where to work? I'm afraid I'd get lost."
As the boy nods and turns to lead her, a savage smile crosses her lips. Everything is falling into place. Soon she will avenge her father and Maria.
The raindrops drip off evergreen leaves,
The refreshing rain-cleansed air sighs.
Fog sweeps her misty gray skirt for shadowed thieves,
Through their teeth they cleverly lie.
Thieves call her Mother Mischief,
Songs sing of her, Goddess Mist.
Sailors name her Devil's Mistress,
The people fear her shadowed fist.
Sounds swell and dim in the mass of white,
Billowing and flowing and softly sweet.
Her spiraling droplets are colorful, light,
Her moist flows in a silencing feat.
A crack, a disturbance in the quiet,
Silverly white, yet deafening world.
A scream, a splash, she fights it,
Fights and flails, her nightmare unfurled.
Think, She whispers in the gixie's very bones,
Slurp up my soothing stew, so pure, She says unseen.
Listen to me, sweet, you will die here alone,
You shall drink Death's song; for you do not trick
The Trickster's Queen.