Just Robin Oneshots Part 2

Hello yes my niche has a niche

Cass and Talon Dick content is just beautiful and lacking let's have some sister brother content

EDIT: TW BLOOD

"Stop," Dick whispered. "Please." Footsteps came towards him. They were heavy and left imprints in the dirt. He shook violently as they approached him and out of the corner of his eye he could see the boots. He didn't want to train anymore. He wanted it to stop. His muscles ached from the constant strain. There were bruises forming. He was already weak from the session beforehand. He could feel the poison burning through his veins. "There is no stopping." His handler grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled him up. Tears ran down his cheeks and mixed with the blood coming from the cuts on his cheekbones. It stung when they ran into the wounds. He winced and tried to even out his breath. His eyes squeezed shut. He hated their eyes. They scared him. He was just a kid. What did he possibly do to deserve this? His parents had died not long ago. He didn't know how long it had been. Maybe days. Weeks. Months? "But it hurts," he cried. His scalp hurt from his hair being pulled out. He could feel them being slowly plucked away, unable to handle the weight of his head. "Then we should fix that." His eyes flew open in a panic. Was that possible? Sure enough, he found himself being dragged somewhere. He clawed and punched at the hand keeping grip of him, even tried pulling out his hair so that there was nothing left to connect him to the fist. Time seemed to jump forward. Parts went missing. He was now strapped in tight. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings before a mask was strapped to his face. A man wearing a surgical mask leered over him with a shining scalpel. He tried to move away. To fight against the thick leather keeping him in position. It was no use. Everything turned into a smudge, a blur, then dark.

Nothing. That's what he'd feel when a harsh punch landed upon his face. He was perfectly numb to it. He didn't think to ask why. In some way, he found it a blessing but it wasn't a blessing. It was a twisted curse. He still felt tired. "Why can't I feel it?"

"A Talon doesn't feel."

"They don't feel pain?"

"They don't feel anything." Something flashed. Like the flash on a camera. It blinded Dick. When the flash wore off he saw what he'd done. There was blood on his hands. A body lay in front of him. A woman. Twenty if that. Perhaps nineteen. There was a slit on her throat. Like a red choker. Her eyes were wide and her pupils were like pinpricks. She looked frightened but Dick knew there was nothing in her. She was lifeless. Her chest failed to move up and down. Her body had a deathly look about it. Pale. Too pale. She'd been wearing a party dress. A cocktail dress. It'd been blue but was now stained with flecks of dried blood. It sparkled in the low light. He tilted his head towards her, kneeling down and checking her pulse. Definitely dead. People were supposed to feel sad when someone died. Even if you didn't know them. "I don't feel sad," he stated after making sure she was gone.

"You're not supposed to."

"I'm a Talon now aren't I?"

"No. You ask too many questions but you've shown good potential. You're promising."

"If I'm quiet, will you make sure I don't feel anything when I do this again?"

"I can assure you of that."

There were bodies this time but this didn't feel right. This couldn't be right. He'd been saved hadn't he? He'd been told he had. He'd been shown to feel. Then why did he feel numb again? His eyes flickered through each of the bodies. Bruce Wayne. Damian Wayne. Tim Drake-Wayne. Jason Todd. Cassandra Cain. Alfred Pennyworth. Stephanie Brown. They were drowning in red. He knew these people. He was sure of it. If you knew someone, you would feel sad when they died. Especially people you liked. He liked these people. At least, he thought he did. Now he wasn't quite sure. He felt something in his hand so he moved to see what it was. A dagger. A Talon dagger. He was well trained in their handling. Why did he kill these people? They regarded him as a family. It didn't make logical sense. "Mission completed." The words just felt right to say but he wasn't sure what the mission was.