A/N: Italics are usually used for thoughts to oneself, but are also sometimes used for emphasis. Thanks for reading! :)
Prologue:
Twelve-year-old Richard John Grayson stared down at the audience. Excited faces, eyes full of wonder, all holding their breath to see the trapeze artists perform. Always the same thing, night after night. The faces all looked the same to him now, no matter what city they were in – Paris, Mexico City, Milan, Rio de Janeiro, and presently Gotham City.
"Ready, Dom?"
Richard glanced to his right and gave a quick nod. The sixteen-year-old next to him grinned and slapped him on the back.
"Then let's do this!"
Yeah, Rob, let's do this over and over and over with no change in anything.
The younger boy stared at the platform across from him, waiting for the man he was supposed to call 'dad' to jump off. Rob slapped him on the back one last time.
"Good luck, Dom," he whispered as the younger boy wrapped his hands around the bar.
My name is Dick.
That was the twelve-year-old's last thought before he jumped off the platform.