DISCLAIMER: I don't own Batman or any other character you may recognize, I only own my OC's, anyone you don't recognize ;P

Warnings: Blood, language, slight mentions of abuse, and mentions of sex-trafficking, slave trade, and rape.


My heart is filled, with the word "when?"

I've suffered here long enough

I want to fly but where, how high?

The whole, wide world is ruled

The heavens above can hear my pain

I have found that which I love

I long to be free

I long to live

Freedom, is my home

(written by Nightwing15 (me) in 8th grade)


*CLANG*

"Быстрее." Faster.

*CLANG* *TINK*

"еще раз." Again.

"но я-" But I-

"ЕЩЕ РАЗ!" AGAIN!

*CLANG* *CLANG* *THUD*

The metallic sound of titanium steel against more of its kind, rang throughout the large, cave-like room with a sharp clarity. Sweat, blood, and salt were the most prominent smells in the direct vicinity. Harsh, white light filled every nook and cranny in every wall, so that no shadows were available to be taken advantage of. Humanoid dummies, punching bags, and a rock climbing wall filled one length of the chamber, while its opposite displayed guns, katanas, and other weapons with a deadly flair.

A sparring ring took the center right of the rocky cavern, with gymnastic equipment hanging from the ceiling, an expansive net securely fastened beneath it should a practicing acrobat slip and fall. Two types of shooting ranges ran the large width of the cave, with human shaped targets at one end, and a shooting gallery at the other.

However, more noticeably was the strange trio that occupied the center of the extensive and elaborate room. One figure was male. Towering above the other two of the trio, he had the muscles of a Roman god, and no hair on his head to speak of. However, a once fiery red trimmed-to-perfection long haired goatee was proudly advertised along his jaw, now also peppered with gray and white. Small, cold, and merciless black eyes, observed his sparring companions with a calculating glare.

He stood like a trained warrior, back straight, legs shoulder-width apart, chin up, and with his bear like hands clasped behind his broad back. Clothed in a blood-red T-shirt, black cargo pants with an MP-443 Grach strapped to his right thigh, and combat boots lined with steel, he created an imposing figure, standing at over six and a half feet. His most defining physical aspect, was the grotesque, white scar that started from above his left eyebrow, and ran diagonal across his face, down to the right side of his chin.

This man, named Azazel "Aza" Diabolos, is the leader of the Черный Ад, Russian, for Black Hell.

Wanted for murder, manslaughter, genocide, terrorism, sex-trafficking, slave trade, rape, and any other public offender the law can conceive, he was nicknamed Aza the Snake of Sin, (or, to anyone who wasn't in his general area at the time, A.S.S. for short).

"Достаточно! У меня было достаточно!" ENOUGH! I've had enough!

This time, the voice belonged to a young girl, about seven years of age. No one knew how old she really was, considering that she was stolen from her parents when she was only a baby. The only information the Черный Ад had on her age, was from a Seer that used to be a member of the terrorist group.

The Seer, ironically called Pandora, was able to estimate the age of the young girl. With her small, lean but muscular figure, it was hard to get an exact age, but the estimate was good enough for the girl.

This Seer, however, was soon found out to be a spy from another group from a city in the United States, (something like Gortha, Gotum?) far away from the Черный Ад's home country of Russia. Needless to say, the organization that the Seer answered to was not happy to receive her severed head in a crate on their proverbial doorstep.

Now, though, the girl was trying fruitlessly to pull her waist length auburn hair out of her sweaty face and into a high ponytail. Her usually bright blue eyes were dull with exhaustion and fatigue, and her normally tan, olive skin was pale, and crusted with blood. She had no baby fat whatsoever, as her continuous daily training kept her in peak, physical condition, to the point where she was slightly underweight, with too much exercise and not enough food to consume for calories. Standing at no more than three feet and nine inches, she was also short for her age, but she didn't let that stand in her way when she had to take down men and women more than three times her weight and double her size.

She wore the standard Черный Ад training uniform: a black, sleeveless tee with black cargo pants and combat boots. Steel plated, blood-red fingerless gloves completed the look, with the Черный Ад symbol on the left chest of the tee. The symbol was….definitely unique. A hexagon within a circle, and a human skull surrounded by flames in the middle of the hexagon. It was the organizations defining factor of identification. Everything they owned had the symbol printed on it, by the direction of Aza.

This however, according to the auburn haired girl, was a disastrous tactic ("Heavy, on the 'dis'"), as anyone could identify and trace back goods to the Черный Ад.

As if we need more evidence against us, she thought as she stared down at the logo, although, I guess that wouldn't be a bad thing, I could put my escape plan to work if I only just had the right distraction.

In reality, despite the fact that she appeared loyal to Aza and the Черный Ад, the sly girl had been slowly but surely putting together an escape plan for her and her friend-cum-sister-in-everything-except-blood, Aasira. Aasira, or Sira, the third in the trio in the room, was fourteen, seven years older than her "little sister," or as Sira liked to call her, "маленький целитель," which meant "little healer." Sira stood at five feet exactly, and had beautiful red hair that fell to her shoulders. Piercing green eyes were the jewels to her heart shaped face. Sira, even at just fourteen, captured the greedy eyes of most of men inside of the Черный Ад headquarters.

"Достаточно, говорите? Отлично, если вам удастся избить меня в лонжероне, я позволю вам и пораньше разойтись. Однако, если я выиграю, вы будете делать столько процедур, сколько я могу думать о трапеции до обеда. Понял?!" Aza growled. Enough, you say? Fine, if you manage to beat me in a spar, I will let you both break early. However, if I win, you will be doing as many routines as I can think of on the trapeze until dinner. Understood?!

"Да Мастер. Я понимаю," the seven year old answered. Yes, master. I understand.

However, before they could even crouch down into any kind of defensive position, a blaring alarm sliced through the thick tension in the bright cave.

Предупреждение о вторжении Intruder Alert

Предупреждение о вторжении Intruder Alert

Предупреждение о вторжении Intruder Alert

An automated voice calmly sounded the alarm, and suddenly there was a swarm of Черный Ад agents, scientists, and prisoners in the training cave. "Сэр! Это Летучие мыши! Они как-то нас нашли!" a grunt cried out to Aza. Sir! It's the Bats! They've somehow found us! The scarred man growled, low and deep. "Аасира, ты и девочка должны остаться и сражаться. Мне все равно, как это сделать. Даже если это будет стоить вам жизни, я хочу, чтобы вы здесь и сражались, я понял?" Aasira, you and the girl are to stay and fight. I don't care how, just do it. Even if it costs you your lives, I want you here and fighting, am I understood?

"Да Мастер," Aasira whispered. Yes, master.

Before Aasira could relay what Aza had commanded to her маленький целитель, most of the lights were crushed and destroyed by, what looked to be, bat-shaped boomerangs, plunging half of the room into darkness. "It's the Batman!" the seven year old next to Aasira whispered excitedly in English.

"Azazel Diabolos, where the hell are you, you heathen?!" a voice demanded.

"Way to make an entrance, Demon. Why not just tell them where we are?! Are you an idiot?! We had the element of surprise, and you've just ruined it!" another voice retorted.

"Calm down, replacement. It's better if we just go in guns ablazing. They won't even know what hit them!" another voice added itself to the growing number of intruders.

"Seriously guys? We had one plan. One. Plan. It wouldn't kill you to listen and follow the plan every once in awhile, would it? Actually, wait, don't answer that," a fourth voice dared to interlude.

"Focus, you four. There may be innocents in here. Make sure to keep them away from harm, understood?" a more gravelly voice than the previous four made itself known.

Various sounds of acknowledgment were heard throughout the cave. Suddenly, Aza's men began to disappear, slowly, but the numbers were dwindling. Grunts, groans, screams of terror, and sounds of flesh hitting flesh could be heard in every part of the room. Occasional bullets, metal and rubber, whizzed throughout the cave, ricocheting off of the dark brown walls.

"No killing, Red Hood."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Metal clangs could be heard, as Aza's men tried to fight back in the pitch black setting of the cave, to no avail.

Aasira and her маленький целитель were also amongst the fighting men, (and some women). And before Aasira knew it, she had found herself face to face with Batman himself, secluded and out of sight from the rest of the fighting, and her маленький целитель.

Now that she could see him more clearly, Sira could tell that this man was something to fear.

The Dark Knight stood in front of her, brandishing a batarang. He stood at six feet and four inches, shorter than Aza, but still tall in his own right. He had a menacing aura that she found strangely comforting. She released a silent breath of relief. "Parlez-vous français, Batman?" she whispered quickly under her breath, knowing that at the close range, the Justice League hero could hear her. Do you speak French, Batman?

The man in question gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head, still tensed to throw his weapon.

"Bien. Parce que j'ai une faveur à demander, et personne d'autre dans cette salle ne connaît le français, sauf pour un petit guérisseur." Good. Because I need to ask for a favor, and no one else in this room knows French, except for little healer.

Masked eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Et pourquoi devrais-je te faire confiance?" he asked lowly, storing the last piece of information about the supposed "little healer" in his memory. And why should I trust you?

"Parce que j'ai besoin de toi pour secourir quelqu'un qui connaît la douleur que toi et tous tes fils endurcis; ma petite soeur," Aasira replied confidently. Because I need you to rescue someone who knows the pain that you and all of your sons do; my little sister.

White lensed covered eyes widened, then narrowed.

"Commence à parler." Start talking.

~o.O.o~

While Batman was preoccupied with talking (*read: interrogating*) to Aasira, his sons were still systematically taking out Aza's men. Of course, systematically to them meant making it into a competition.

"29!"

"32!"

"46!"

"54!"

"Liar, there's no way you've taken out fifty-four!"

"Check it!"

"Seriously, you guys need to chill. There's no harm in-BRAT! He was MINE!"

"Never turn your back on a fight. Mother always made sure I couldn't be caught unprepared."

"This is a totally different situation! You can't just-!"

"Tt. You are such a baby, Todd. Grow up."

"No names in the field, guys!"

"78!"

"...Who was that?"

The four brothers turned to look at each other, but none of them knew where the feminine voice had come from. Surely, if they had taken out seventy-eight goons, they had to be on the side of the Bats, right? There were only five of them, after all. "Hey! Clueless Batguys! Over here!"

At the insult, they all whipped around towards where the voice was coming from. And in a would-be-comical way, their jaws dropped simultaneously. There, standing on top of a mountain of Black Hell goons, was the craziest girl they thought they had ever set eyes on. (They say girl, because boy, did they meet several not-so-right-in-the-head women, on a daily basis).

"Pretty cool, right? I mean, I think it is. I'm not too sure. Never really been in a fight like this before. But I gotta say, it's not disappointing me so far!" the girl chirped.

"...I don't have the words," Red Robin deadpanned.

"What? Never seen a child fight before? Well, I can give you a few examples. There was the first Robin and all of the other Robins after that, Kid Flash (or was it Flash Boy?), Aqualad, Speedy-"

"ALRIGHT! OKAY WE GET IT!" Red Hood cut in. "What we don't get, is why you're…..you know…." he trailed off, waving his gun towards her general direction haphazardly.

The bright blue eyed girl gazed at him curiously, not even so much as flinching at the sight of the gun. "What do I know?" she asked innocently.

Nightwing internally swooned at how adorable she was. But what struck him as odd, as did his brothers, was that she had the Black Hell symbol on her shirt, and she obviously was here when they had come in. So why was she fighting against her own organization? Unless…

"Hey, you, little girl, I just wanted to ask-" he started.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT SHE COULD FIT INTO THE BARREL OF A GUN AND STILL HAVE ROOM LEFTOVER INSIDE FOR A BULLET?!"

The resounding and unexpected outburst caught the attention of all five of the intruders, Aasira, and Aza. "Глупая девочка! Какого черта ты думаешь, что делаешь?!" the leader of the Черный Ад roared. Foolish girl! What do you think you are doing?!

A look that none of Gotham vigilantes could decipher flashed quickly across the girl's face, before it settled into one of grim determination and defiance. All occupants of the room could see the girl's muscles tense and coil, before, as quick as lightning, she launched herself off of her pile of taken down Черный Ад henchmen, towards Aza. Flipping herself in a half twist, she landed, crouched down, behind Aza, where she swung her right foot, heel first, in a clockwise motion towards his legs.

Aza, however, had multiple years of experience fighting various professional martial artists, and was anticipating her attack. He nimbly performed a back handspring away from the seven-year old, and snarled at her. "Вы заплатите за это. Как только мы закончим здесь, вы будете наказаны за свою лояльность," he threatened. You will pay for that. As soon as we're done here, you will pay for your disloyalty.

All of the vigilantes trained by the Batman in the room understood the underlying meaning, and immediately tried to spring into action. However, a voice in the communicators in their ears stopped them.

"Wait. There's something you need to know first," Batman ordered.

"But, Bats, we need to help her! Aza is professionally trained in hand-to-hand combat, and many dangerous weapons. She won't stand a chance!" Red Robin protested.

"Please wait! You need to listen to me! Please! You five are the only chance that маленький целитель has! Please!" a feminine voice cried into the comms.

The desperation in the new voice stopped the boys in their tracks, while they watched Aza charge at the little girl. The four brothers watched in slight amazement as the girl was able to hold her own against Aza pretty well, before turning to Batman, who was coming up behind them. The scientists were all tied up with zipwire in one corner of the room, and the henchmen a few feet away from the scientists, stripped of all of their weapons. Any prisoners that the boys and Batman had found had all been safely evacuated to the Watchtower, by using the stolen Zeta Tube in the Черный Ад headquarters, as it was located deep in the heart of one of the snow encased mountains of Russia.

"Alright, you've got our attention. Start talking," demanded the, once, black sheep of the family.

Aasira nodded sharply. "You have to understand that neither I nor little healer belong here, or want to be here. We were both taken at young ages from our families. Me at age three, and little healer at age one," she began. At this information, the eyebrows of Nightwing and Red Robin went up in surprise, while Red Hood and Robin didn't have any visible reaction. Batman, well, he's Batman, enough said.

"We both need your help to escape. I don't have the time to explain everything now, but I have to ask that you trust us. And as much as little healer loves to show how capable she is in a fight, she cannot hold her own forever," the fourteen-year old finished quickly.

A sharp crack of bone, followed by a cry of pain, came from the direction of Aza and the girl, and Aasira was the first to react. Spinning on her heel, she dashed to where the two were fighting, and launched herself at the Snake of Sin, wrenching him off of her younger companion, where he was beating her into the floor.

"Traitorous girl!" he shouted in English. "Why do you betray the Черный Ад?! We took you in, fed you, trained you, and this is how you repay us?!"

"You did NOTHING to help us! You stole us from our families, gave us barely anything worth eating to survive, while you splurged on feasts in our faces! And train you say? If training had a synonym, then it would be torture! We didn't ask for you to train us!" Aasira raged back. She flung herself off of Aza's back, then threw a volley of furious punches and kicks at the wanted man. With five years of more experience, she proved to be a better fight against Aza than her younger "sister". While Aasira fought against Aza, Batman searched for a way to help her, while still carrying out what he came here to do.

"Nightwing, Robin, contact Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, and Flash, and tell them to get their asses down here. Red Robin, carry on the mission objective, look for any more evidence on Aza and the Черный Ад. Red Hood, you're with me. Let's taken down this son of a bitch."

To his satisfaction and pride, all four of his boys nodded and followed his orders without complaint, recognizing the seriousness of the situation. However, unbeknownst to the guardian of Gotham and his protégés, a looked-over scientist hid in the shadows of the now half-lit room. Sweating nervously, he glanced at the three-inch throwing knife clenched in his white, shaking hands. Closing his eyes, he gulped, before opening them and focusing on the, still fighting, duo in the center of the room. He watched with bated breath as Batman and the Red Hood threw themselves into the fight, perfectly controlled. But they weren't his target.

Looking off slightly to the right, he saw his mark. The seven-year old was concentrating on the fight anxiously, clutching her broken arm to her chest. She was as pale as snow, but splattered with crusted and new blood. Bruises covered her neck and arms, and her auburn hair was frazzled and streaked with even more blood. To be frank, she was a wreck.

And the perfect prey. Looking back down at the elegant but deadly weapon, the scientist remembered the orders that Aza had given to him that morning, before any of this had occurred.

*Flashback* (1)

"S-sir? You c-called for m-me?" a scientist asked meekly as he stumbled gracelessly into Aza's office.

"Ah, just the man I needed. You see, something is going to happen tonight, and I want you to be ready for it," Aza said smoothly, his back to the nervous man.

"S-sir? Ready f-for what?"

"You will see. For now, take this and hide it wherever you can on your person. It will come in handy when you need to kill the traitor."

"W-what? K-kill?"

Aza turned around and walked with purpose towards the head scientist. It took the trembling man all of his willpower to not step away from the large man. The leader of the Black Hell handed the shaking scientist a three-inch blade throwing knife. It had a midnight blue handle, with criss-crossing white lines that started from the butt of the grip to the bottom of the blade. The blade itself was a beautiful silver, that glinted in the light of the office. It had been sharpened to the point of perfection.

"You have had training in knife throwing, no?" Aza asked.

"N-no, I mean yes, I mean….yes, I have s-sir," the man answered hastily.

"Good, good. You will use this knife to kill the healer tonight, when she betrays us," Aza instructed, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, s-sir."

Aza nodded with maniacal satisfaction in his cold eyes. The scientist shivered in fear, dreading his mission, while dreading even more what Aza would do to him, should he fail.

*Flashback End*

Summoning himself from his memories, he once more looked back up towards his target, drew in a deep breath, wound his throwing arm back, aimed towards her head, and threw.


A/N: Hello everyone! This is just an idea I came up with and had to get onto paper (digital paper of course, but you know, technicalities). I know I have another story I need to be working on, but this plot bunny needed to be satisfied. I'm actually liking where this is going, and I need to know if you guys like it. Also, because I posted this as a separate story, I plan on slowly working on it. However, if I get enough people that like it, I'll speed up the writing process. And just so people know, there will be no romance in this story, just like my previous one. I actually like this one better than my other story, but I will be working on both, promise. This story as well as my other one are un-beta'd. OH! And I have nothing against Russians, this is just the plot that my brain came up with. Also, don't completely trust anything written in another language, I used Google Translate, which isn't the most reliable source.

Important Language Translations:

Черный Ад: Black Hell in Russian

маленький целитель: Little Healer in Russian

(1) Everything said in the Flashback is in Russian

Please R&R! Thanks!