Great book of one shots (everything Batman related)

To break a bird

Robin AU/Young Justice/Deathstroke/apprentice: pain, abuse, hurt

A little warning before we begin, this is nothing for week souls, so if you want to read this, crawl into your bed, dim the lights and take the tissues out, this is gonna be dark.

We all know that Richard Grayson's childhood ended the day his parents died. It was the end, but also the beginning. That fateful day was the day, Robin was born, just like what happened to his soon-to-be partner all those years ago. If a tragedy like that strucks you, you have three options, three choices how you want to overcome the things that happened to you, three different ways of living on.

1. Doing nothing, just trying to go back to normal.
2. Giving in to all the anger, sorrow and hate you feel, to embrace the darkness and let others suffer like you did. It's a tempting choice, and only you can decide, whether it's right or wrong.
The hardest choice you can make, choice 3: Channelling all the build up feelings into something better and protect others from experiencing the same pain you did. Stop those who struck out against those who aren't able to protect themselves and be a guardian angel for all those who need one. Be a hero, be what those you've lost would want you to be.

But what happens when that choice is taken away from you? When someone else made that choice for you and chose the wrong option? If you are taken away from everything you know and those you hold dear are at a place you are unable to go just yet?

That's exactly what happened to Richard  Grayson. His parents weren't there to protect him anymore, no one was. That's how a mercenary in black and orange managed to kidnap the young boy without anyone noticing. And that's how his life turned from perfect to bad to worse to hell. That's how he ended up as Deathstroke's apprentice.

His head was smashed into the wall, earning a scared yelp and tears that sprung into the ten year old's eyes. "Please," he whispered shakely. His tormentors hot breath tickled his neck. "What did I say," the older man questions darkly and Dick Grayson flinched. "N-not to beg. It shows weakness."
"Exactly. And what did you just do?"

Dick started to tremble as the first tears slowly rolled down his chubby cheeks. The coldness and anger in the mercenary's voice terrified him to the core and he could feel how his knees gave away, the only thing holding him up being Deathstroke's iron grip on his shaggy hair. It hurt.
Even though he got better at martial arts, he was no match for his master, no match at all. And even if he would have been able to defend himself, the constant beatings and punishments made him obedient. Not out of loyalty, but because he was scared. Terrified that the man would hurt him again, made him do things he didn't want to do. Things like killing. He may be small for his age, but no man could dodge a bullet, no man but Deathstroke the Terminator.
Dick had seen him dodging and deflecting bullets left and right, what only scared him more.

The dangerously calm voice if his master pulled him out of his thoughts. "I asked you a question, apprentice. I expect an answer."
Dick gulped down his fear. "I-I begged," he stuttered, silently pleading for someone to help him.
No one came. No one ever came.
"And what happens when you disobey me?" Dick hated this, this twisted mind game Deathstroke was playing. Asking him questions he already knew the answers to, just to stir up even more fear in the former acrobat. He closed his eyes in defeat. "Punishment," he muttered quietly, "Disobedience means punishment." He could feel his master's glee. "Exactly." The mercenary's knee shot upwards, while he jerked the boy's head downwards. Metal collided with skin and an anguished scream tore through Deathstroke's haunt, accompanied by the sound of bone breaking.

Slade let the ten year old drop to the floor, where he curled himself into a small ball, hiding his blood gushing nose behind his knees. He shivered and silent sobs racked his body. Deathstroke took no pity in him. A metallic boot slammed into the young boy's ribcage, earning another cry of pain from the acrobat. Even though nothing was broken, his side hurt like hell. He whimpered and the crystal blue orbs filled with tears once again, as a burning sensation raced through his body, making him shake in pain. But the shaking only worsened the fire that courses through his small and fragile body, and he started crying openly.

It was so unfair. The people of Gotham got saved all the time, but the heroes seemed to ignore his silent cries for help. Maybe he deserved it, after all, he was a killer.

"Richard." The demanding tone in  Slade Wilson's voice made Dick tense, as he sniffed and slowly raised his head.
His nose, mouth and chin were covered in drying blood, preventing him from breathing properly. "Yes, Master?" He asked in a small voice, inwardly cowering himself even more into the wall behind him, his teary eyes never leaving his master's. "Go to bed, apprentice. It's late." The boy sniffed once again, wiping his nose with his sleeve and rose shaky off the ground. "Thank you, Master." He bowed quickly, making his side sting, but he didn't want to be punished again, so he hurriedly left the room, limping through the hallways of the underground fortress toward his own bedroom.

He laid in his bed, the covers tugged around him, so only his hair was peeking out. Under the blanket, the ten year old cuddled his stuffed animal Peanut to his chest, crying quietly, careful not to disturb his master. He wanted to be saved, wanted to wake up and be back at the circus, before all of this happened. He cried harder, thinking of his parents. Almost a year. He knew Deathstroke would never allow him to visit their graves, so he prayed to them every night, asking for their help and forgiveness for all the things he's done and is still doing. "I'm scared, Peanut," he hiccuped, pressing his face into the last thing that remained from his time in the circus. He took in the familiar smell and a small, but watery smile tugged at his lips. "You are a good listener, Peanut, much better than Master." He quickly threw his hand over his mouth, chest tightening around his racing heart. If his master had heard him, then he'd get the beating of his life, but everything stayed quiet. He let out a small sigh and screwed his eyes shut. He didn't want to life like this anymore, in constant fear of getting punished or saying the wrong thing.

Then he heard it, the thing that'd change his life forever. "I think there's someone in there, I can hear a heartbeat." Dick's breath quickened and he made himself even smaller. If Master had guests, then that meant either, he would be banished to his room for the next few hours, or used as a punching bag to entertain his guests. He small whimper escaped his lips. He didn't want anymore pain. Peanut was still held firmly in his arms, giving him much needed comfort.
 
The covers were thrown off him, and with a small cry of fear, Dick crawled backward, back hitting the wall and hugged his knees to his chest, face buried in his arms. He wanted to cry, but he knew that his master wouldn't appreciate that, not after the weakness he'd showed earlier. "Hey, kid," he heard a soothing, but unfamiliar voice. Dick slowly looked up, blinking away the tears that burned in his eyes.
In front of him stood a boy, maybe three years older than himself. He had red, unkemped hair and wore a yellow and red suit, a mask covering his face. Dick shifted his awestruck gaze to the people behind the yellow boy and for the first time, since his parents' death, he actually smiled, a real, hopeful smile. The heroes had finally arrived, a little late, but not too late to fix the broken bird.
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A/N: So, what do you think? Dark, dark... 😂 should I write more of this kind of one shots? I actually really enjoy writing things like this (Don't blame me, I'm a psycho!)