Rising Robin

Chapter I: Bird vs. Dragon

This is my first public fan fiction. Any sort of comments, reviews and critiques are all welcome. As the story is an ongoing progression, any thoughts and suggestions people would like to see, leave in comments. I won't be announcing what I'm planning in bringing into the story, I'd like to keep it as a surprise as they appear. Like I said, comments and reviews would be great to help lead the progression of the story and determine what paths and sub plots the story takes. Thank you. Enjoy!

The following chapter contains an intensely gruesome fight scene. Viewer discretion is advised.

Dick Grayson emerged from the shadows and walked towards the cage. He looked straight ahead as he heard the audience booing from all directions. "Dick Grayson sucks!" they chanted. "Dick is a dick!" "Down with Dick!" "Spill Grayson blood!"

Dick rolled his eyes. They were just betting on the opponent to win the night's fight.

Ahead of Dick was a large man standing in the cage. He was shirtless and wore military cargo pants. He had a large tattoo imprinted on his chest. It resembled a skeletal dragon of some sort. There was Arabic script tattooed around his wrists. His face was square shaped, and had a chiseled chin, but couldn't have looked older than 30. The man's eyes were dark, as if he had no soul.

Dick continued walking to the cage. Once he reached it, he climbed inside and closed the door behind him. He reached around the door to wrap the chain around the door and locked it. As Dick turned around to face his opponent, there was a slight murmur in the crowd. "The kid's sealing himself into his own death." "Let's watch the circus boy burn, just like his parents."

Dick formed tight fists with his palms. He eyed his opponent, making sure he didn't make a move when Dick wasn't looking. These guys were known to fight dirty.

"On one side of the Cage of Chaos," announced a man over a microphone, "straight from the Middle East is the fearless Ali Makarov!" Ali threw his arms up as the crowd cheered at the sound of his name.

"On the other side," the announcer started in a lower tone, "the only survivor of the Haly Circus Fire, the orphan acrobat, Dick Grayson!"

The audience booed against Dick. Dick shrugged it off. He got into a fighting position, fists up over his face, knees bent slightly. He was ready.

"Let's have a good show, boys," the announcer said before ringing the bell. "A good fight to the death!"

Suddenly, the bell chimed.

Makarov lunged towards Dick in an instant moment. Dick dodged to the right, sending Makarov flying to the cage wall. Makarov regained his balance and turned back to Dick. He snarled like a ferocious lion. Dick turned to face him.

Makarov made another lunge at Dick. Dick countered Makarov's fist, followed by a kick up to his lower abdomen. Makarov slightly flinched, but didn't seem hurt. He swung his entire right palm against Dick's head, slapping him. Dick went flying to the side of the cage. His head began to pound as if he had filled his head with concrete. He stood up slowly, attempting to regain his balance.

Before he got a chance to react, Makarov slammed his entire body into Dick, sending him against the cage. Dick's body was crushed against the force of Makarov. Dick screamed in agonizing pain. Makarov roared in laughter.

Suddenly, Makarov head butted Dick. Dick dropped to the floor like a rag-doll. Makarov began gloating in triumph. He threw his fists up and the crowd began cheering his name. "Makarov! Makarov! Makarov!" He began speaking to himself in Arabic, perhaps monologuing about how strong and fierce he was.

Dick mentally laughed. He was always a good performer.

Dick, still seen as a limp body on the ground, began shifting slightly towards Makarov. He moved so slowly, it was practically unnoticeable. He managed to move close enough where he could reach Makarov if he took one step closer to Dick.

Makarov laughed and cheered with the crowd still. He kept speaking Arabic, as if people actually understood Arabic in Gotham. Dick noticed he had excessive veins pulsing down his back. Perhaps he was a steroid user.

Finally, Makarov took a step closer.

Dick swiftly grabbed both of Makarov's ankles with both of his hands and swung his entire body around Makarov, then threw his legs up around his neck. Dick used all of his body force to throw Makarov down to the floor from his neck, slamming his spine against the ground. Dick punched Makarov's groin once, then swung around to face his opponent. He began throwing fists at Makarov, causing cuts and bruises to turn to blood and bone. Dick let out all of his strength, all of his rage, all of his pain. He focused it all onto his fists slamming into the Arab. Dick was throwing so many punches that he began to lose control. Dick threw one punch that caused Makarov's nose to crack, breaking the bone. Dick threw another that caused another crack in his jaw, causing teeth to fly out of his mouth.

Dick clenched his fists together to contain himself. He let out a loud scream and gouged his thumbs into Makarov's eyes. Blood poured from his eye sockets, onto Dick's hands. Dick drove his thumbs deep into Makarov's skull, until he felt bone. Then Dick ripped his hands out of his opponent's head and stood up. He turned to face the crowd around him. They were all silent, a few hushed voices whispering to one another. "Holy shit, did you see that?" "Dick is fucking crazy." "He gauged his fucking eyes out, man."

Dick ran a frustrated hand through his long, sweaty hair. It smeared blood across his forehead.

"And the winner is...Dick Grayson!"

The crowd began booing, calling out insults about Dick. "He's a cheat!" "All he does is play dead, just like his parents!" "Ali let him win!"

Dick listened and smirked as he watched someone unlock the cage door. He knew each and every one of these guys watching him had lost a bet tonight because of him.