Chapter 9:- Regrowing Clipped Wings
Dick Grayson sorted through the CDs on the shelf. Why did customers insist on putting them back in the wrong order? All it did was force him to tidy them all up after hours, a tedious, time-absorbing task.
I feel like there is no need for conversation
He picked up several records and placed them in alphabetical order and in genre order just like Starfire had done so many years before. But that life was behind him now. It was just him. He was alone. And he was happy…
Some questions are better left without a reason
He grabbed a broom and started to push all the dirt the customers had trekked in towards the door, and let out a long sigh. Seeing the others again brought up a lot of old memories. Memories he had long forgotten. Memories of the Teen Titans…
And I would rather reveal myself than my situation
But he had made a choice. That life was behind him.
Now and then I consider my hesitation
The broom slipped out of his hands and began to fall to the floor. He caught it with his foot, flipped it upwards, grabbed it with his hands, spun it around his body, then held it firmly, ready for anything.
The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
He bowed his head and dropped the broom. He sighed deeply, and walked to the door, walking outside before locking up his shop.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I'm burning
Burning bright
He walked slowly with his head bowed, past the glass windows of the shops next to him. He looked upward briefly and looked at his reflection.
I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
His reflection gazed back, garbed in the brightly colored spandex of his old uniform. He looked into his own masked eyes.
To spare myself the constant shame of my existence
He shook his head, and his reflection was normal again. He sighed miserably.
And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation
An unfamiliar twinge came to the back of his neck, and he twitched. Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the streets. Dick instinctively dropped to the floor, as the bullet shattered the glass behind him spraying tiny shards of glass all over him.
Here and now I'll express my situation
He looked back, and saw a common criminal, with an ordinary pistol in his hand. He breathed deeply and rolled to the side as the criminal took another shot.
The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
He stumbled to his feet and ran back toward his shop, hearing the windows shatter behind him as bullets hit them.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I'm burning bright
He reached the door, fumbled with the handle for a second, then kicked it open and rolled into the store, taking over behind one of the many stands of CDs.
The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The gunman was in the doorway. He grunted, then fired a few rounds into the stands. The CDs shattered in their cases, sending tiny pieces of plastic everywhere.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I'm burning bright
The gun clicked, and the gunman reloaded his gun as quickly as possible. Dick took a chance, grabbed a CD and hurled it towards his attacker.
There's nothing ever wrong
But nothing's ever right
Such a cruel contradiction
The gunman reacted quickly, hitting the CD mid-throw with a bullet. It shattered and plastic sprayed everywhere. Dick rolled behind another CD stand as the gunman unloaded a round into the floor where he had been moments before.
I know I cross the lines
It's not easy to define
I'm born to indecision
Dick pushed his head up against the stand. This wasn't a time to do anything stupid. He had to think. He had to think like Robin would think.
There's always something new
Some path I'm supposed to choose
He looked forward. The broom. He reached forward with his foot, and managed to pull it over to him. With one swift snap, he broke the handle off the broom, then he grabbed a CD from the floor, pulled it out of its case and snapped it into several pieces.
With no particular rhyme or reason
He waited for the gunman to reload, then jumped out and threw all of the CD shards at the same time, before quickly hiding again. The gunman took two out of the air with bullets, but a third pierced his side, sending a slow trickle of blood under his heavy jacket.
And the more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
Dick took his chance, and leaped out from his hiding space. He swung with the broom, knocking the gun cleanly out of the man's hands, then slammed it into his jaw.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I'm burning bright
The man stumbled, looked back at Dick, then ran out of the door. The bell above the door tinkled annoyingly. Dick stood tall, then dropped the broom handle. He walked back into the store, laying his fists into the CD stands, sending them into disorder. He yelled a horrific yell of despair. He knew what he had to do. Somehow, fate always brought him back to it. Somehow, no matter how hard he tried, he could never escape his destiny.
The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
He stumbled over the desk in the corner and opened a drawer. Inside, staring up at him was the infamous mask. The gaze he could never escape.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I'm burning
High above him, something screeched. One half of him sighed as the other half smiled. He knew what he had to do.
I feel like there is no need for conversation
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Kirsten Watson walked home on the dark street. She was young, about 17, and had just been to a friend's house. She was offered a ride, but her house was only a few blocks away, and she needed the exercise anyway.
She passed through the eerie circles of light that the streetlamps cast on the sidewalk and walked past a grocery store, with a glass door.
"Hello sweetheart," came a voice. Kirsten jumped and span around. Leaning against the doorway to the grocery store was a man, a knife clutched firmly in your hands.
"I don't have anything you want," muttered Kirsten, backing away from the man.
"Yes you do, my love," said the man, standing up tall. He was about 6'2 and well muscled. Kirsten's heart filled with fear.
Then, suddenly, the glass of the door shattered and a black glove came through it and grabbed the man by the mouth. He yelped in surprise before the hand pulled backward through the glass door and left Kirsten alone on the street.
Kirsten gasped, then ran home to call and tell her friends everything.
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The black car pulled up to a filthy man garbed untidily. The back window of the car partly rolled down.
"Where's my money?" came a voice from the back of the car.
"I… I don't have it…"
"Why not?"
"My daughter… She's sick…"
"So you spent it on hospital funds?"
"Yes…"
"Then you owe me, Mr. Elliott," a pistol came out of the back window, pointing directly at the ragged man. "And I always claim my debts."
Mr. Elliott cowered, but, from nowhere, a black boot came, slamming the hand that held the pistol into the glass window. The hand dropped the gun as the boot forced it down lower into the window. A scream echoed from the back of the car and Mr. Elliott ran as fast as he could.
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Sergeant Chris Cortinas had only been with the ninth precinct for three days. He was out on patrol duty, and since he was the newbie, he always got the worst routs. But he didn't mind, since in this case, the worst rout happened to be closer to home. It meant he could get home to his two year old daughter that little bit faster. He drove the rout in his squad car, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, until he turned the corner to the art museum.
There was a man screaming bloody murder tied to the magnificent statue of a roman chariot in front of the museum. The black ropes bound him to the sculpture, his hands bent backward around it. A black, metal object was shoved deep into his t-shirt, his left arm was badly bruised and, on his chest, someone had boldly painted the word 'RAPIST.'
Chris stood in awe at the spectacle, then sighed. Once he reported this, he'd never get to run this rout again.
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Emily Middleton screamed and ducked behind the counter as the shotgun shell ripped through the window she was standing before moments before. Why did she have become a bank clerk?
Tiny shards of glass rained on top of her. There were three of them; two guys and girl, each with a shotgun and balaclavas. Any minute they'd be pointing them at her, demanding the money in the vault.
"Over there," she heard the girl say. Emily clutched her head as a tear ran down her face.
"Hey… What the hell?" said one of the guys before there was a massive grunt and a crash. Two shotguns rang out, before the sickening sound of someone getting struck hard in the jaw echoed throughout the bank. At the sound of another grunt, then another crash, Emily ducked lower.
"Get away from me you freak!" yelled the girl as she fired her shotgun again. There was a thump, then a terrified scream of "No!" before the girl came flying through the window above Emily and crashed into the wall, undoubtedly unconscious. Then, silence.
Emily got up, amazed. The two men were unconscious on the floor of the bank. She looked up to the doorway, and saw two squad cars pull up. She had been saved by a mysterious stranger, a masked savior.
She thanked her stars, then went to talk to the numerous police officers swarming the building.
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"How could Dick just give it up?" said Animal Man puzzled as he sat at foot of the bed of the hotel they were staying at. Raven lay on the same bed, looking up at her green companion. Cyborg was sitting in an uncomfortable armchair reading the newspaper.
"I mean…" Animal Man continued. "He was…"
"Obsessive?" finished Raven.
Animal Man smiled slightly. "Yeah. Looks like you're getting your memory back pretty fast."
Raven smiled back. "You never know I might get all of them back soon."
A lump formed in Animal Man's throat.
"Guys?" said Cyborg, breaking the awkward silence.
"Yeah?" said the two in unison.
He threw the newspaper towards them and Animal Man caught it and looked at the headline. 'Masked Man Foils Bank Robbery,' then he turned the page, 'Chain Rapist Captured By Mysterious Stranger'
Cyborg smiled broadly. "He's back."
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WHAT? You thought I was gonna leave Dick as a useless old guy? Never!
Oh btw – I don't own the song… but you figured that out right?