Robin

An elegant crystal dances in the wind. It gracefully twirls and turns, following the will of Mother Nature. The light of the evening sky shined brightly through this lonely sliver. It glistened and gleamed as it slowly descended towards the earth; a solitary snow flake.

Before the snow flake collided with the earth, it was stopped abruptly by a bright green substance. The crystalline shard of ice slowly dissolved, causing a small puddle amongst the contrasting jade surface. The emerald exterior contorted, it bent and scrunched. Soon it collapsed upon itself, generating a small rubber squeak in the process.

Shrouded eyes watched as the intricate frost formed shard disappeared in the palm of his hand. It was winter time in Jump City, and for the first time in years, it was cold enough for snow. Robin watched as the snow fell quietly from the evening sky. Up on the roof, it was easy to mistake the scenery for a snow globe; the sight was breath taking.

Snow is supposed to bring a sense of calm; it's supposed to clear the mind. But as the snow fell harder, Robin's hand squeezed shut, his fingernails daring the rubber of his gloves to restrict them further. His teeth bared an angry snarl and his eyes clamped down.

Snow use to excite him, it use to bring him to a state of joy; all it seemed to do now was make him remember that fateful night. Slowly he tried to reign in his anger and repress the emotions welling up inside him.

"…I hate snow" he seethed through his tightly grinding teeth. With a huff he made his way towards the roof entrance, he was angry, he was annoyed, he needed to vent. He made his way towards his stress reliever; the gym.

He wasted no time changing into workout specific clothing; he merely walked towards a punching bag and began unleashing his pent up aggression. The memory of his father's hand against his wrist, guiding him to the proper spot on the trapeze bar popped into his mind's eye.

A swift right jab caused the bag to lightly shake. The thought of his mothers laugh as she demonstrated how to properly hold her ankles on a particular stunt. A flurry of left straights and a right uppercut brought the bag to a steady quiver.

The reminiscence of his parent's returned smile as he flew from one bar to the next, the proud cheers that followed. A right cross brought the bag to a disheveled tremble, struggling to stay fixed to its chained mount. The memories of that night were attacking him, fighting him to remember, forcing him to relive the pain.

With a swift spin he jumped and yelled, "ARRRGH!"

His heel shot out and connected with the punching bag causing it to ricochet backwards. The torrent of cheers and Haly's voice radiating throughout the big tent, the crowd chanting "Grayson's, Grayson's, Grayson's!"

Landing roughly on his remaining foot he spun quickly to reorient himself with the bags position. His knees buckled as he prepared to lung forward. The memory of Anthony Zucco demanding that Haly let them use the Circus trucks for drug trafficking.

In one motion, his knees extended once more launching him forward, his fist prepared to knock the tightly fastened bag from its hinges. The moment the rope snapped during his parent's part of the performance.

His resolve faltered at the last memory, causing him to slightly drift and miss his target. The bag instead found a home in his lower left thigh causing him to fly incredulously to the floor in a heap. He bruised his leg, it hurt, but his adrenaline was blocking out most of the pain. With all his force, he pushed off the ground with his palms and launched another relentless attack.

He was more than upset, he was more than just angry, he was infuriated. Two left parries and a quick right jab caused a small crack to the bag's fabric. His eyes quickly honed in on the target, the weak point. He continued with this repetitious attack; two left parries and a quick right jab, two left parries and a quick right jab. The force behind each cycle getting stronger and stronger as he progressed.

Robin wasn't allowed to fall down, he wasn't allowed to hurt, he had to fight, he had to win. It was the only thing that mattered, it was what drove him. His obsessive need to succeed was what woke him up every morning, he wouldn't be beaten by a punching bag!

Soon, his temper started unraveling his years of training. Hours spent creating and perfecting specific methods to take down enemies was being reduced to a rage filled onslaught of random punches. His hands shot to either side of the chain holding the bag in the air. His knee came flying towards the 'head' of the bag producing a small puff of dust from the crack he had created.

The memory of his father desperately reaching to grab his wife as they tumbled towards the circus floor. Robin's hand's were beginning to ache now, his forehead dripping with sweat and his adrenaline high wearing off. His mother's last glance, staring into his very soul as if to convey, "Richard honey, I'm so sorry."

That was it, that was the last straw. Using that memory as fuel, he reached into his utility belt producing one of his trademark Wing Ding's. With pure hatred in his eyes, he envisioned the bag to be that thug Anthony Zucco; and with all his might he slashed at the bags theoretical heart.

Snow was surprisingly effective against the teen wonder. It was its graceful fall that got to him. Something so pure, the sky's gift of art to the world in the form of such a simple act. It reminded him of his parents daring performance. The elegance of their movements was like the light dance of snowflakes in the wind. The uniqueness of not using a safety net not unlike the differences between each individual flake of snow that touches the ground. But as easy as its beauty arrives, it disappears into nothingness all the same.

The images of his parents limp corpses and the horrified screams of onlookers. The punching bag was gutted; the loud patter of sand rushing from its wound filled the gym's walls. Robin shakily ran one of his swore hands through his now damp hair. Sweat dripped like following rivers down his face.

He would have to clean this up, but a shower would do him wonders now. As he made his way to his bedroom for a fresh uniform, the sight of a green boy jogging towards him filled his field of vision.

"DUDE! It's SNOWING!"

With his toothy grin he asked Robin if they should all go out and have a snowball fight. Robin declined the offer as best as he could, wishing simply to wash up and relax indoors. With a frown and a huff, the green titan was off to try and rally his remaining roommates…nearly.

With several audible sniffs, Beast Boy looked towards Robin with a quizzical stare. "Uhh, dude, you ok?" Robin started on his journey towards his bedroom offering a simple wave and stating, "I'm fine." With a frown, Beast Boy sauntered off to try and get Cyborg to go out and play with him. But not before commenting, "Why did Robin smell so salty?"

Beneath the beads of sweat across the young man's cheeks lie several drying streaks of salty tears. He wouldn't be able to relax tonight; he would remain uneasy and upset for the remainder of that day. The boy who blames himself for his parent's death.

Something as simple as snow can get this guy down! He trys to be tough and be strong and succeed cause' he thinks if he doesn't, then he'll be dishonoring his parents memory.

Not quite as sad as the other three (I don't think I can out-do Beast Boy haha) but I wanted to give Robin a different sort of pacing. He never seemed like the type to sit and cry even about things like this. He's the kind of person I envision trying to just blow all his emotions off with a nice round-house kick to your face ^.^

Am I still working on Auditions, YES, has it taken more time than I previously thought, YES, am I procrastinating, HELL YES! Honestly guys that story is the most intricate and complicated thing I've ever come up with so far. It feels incomplete-ish and it's only a re-do of chapter one! (BTW spoiler alert chapter one for Auditions currently is 30,000 words so be prepared for a good read!)

Welp hope you enjoyed your read at Robin's expense! I'll try to have another good 'Tear-Fest' as soon as I can, since for the first time EVER, I'll be creating a TRUE Cover for Auditions and that's taking up a lot of my little free time *points at self* im dedicated!

RXR