I saw a fic once where Dick was in suicide squad as Renegade and now I’m having ideas
So like. Maybe also the yj universe, but Dick’s entire vigilante timeline gets moved up. His parents die when he’s 5. Bruce trains him for 2 years, lets him out as Robin when he’s 7. Deathstroke sees him right away and decides he wants that kid for himself.
When he’s 10, the yj team forms. When he’s 11, Deathstroke ambushes the team and fakes Robin’s death.
Six months later, Renegade is on the scene as Deathstroke’s apprentice.
Then when Dick is 15, he’s somehow captured and taken to Belle Reve. No one knows his real name, Slade had everything on him scrubbed from any sort of government database. Everyone just calls him Ren.
Ren is forced to join the suicide squad.
No one really knows how old he is, but Waller insists that he must be at least 18 to have been Deathstroke’s apprentice for so long. Dick doesn’t correct anyone. Everyone knows Waller is full of shit.
Ren doesn’t talk much. He’s quiet. Keeps to himself. Maybe he thinks they killed Deathstroke when they captured him, and so he’s still in shock, he doesn’t know what to do without Slade there to order him around.
Everyone has a soft spot for him, because it’s obvious he’s just a kid who was manipulated by Deathstroke. And no one likes Deathstroke. And also because he’s clearly depressed and dissociating half the time when he isn’t killing or training on Waller’s order.
Then maybe one day they’re just in a plane or smth en route to whatever Waller has them doing now. Maybe someone asks him how Deathstroke recruited him. Maybe he’s finally opening up a little after so many missions with them.
“I’d been working on a covert team,” he says softly. “He’d been after me years, but he could never get to me. But this team was young. Inexperienced. I had the most seniority, so it was kind of a shit show.”
“And what, he just…captured you? And no one went looking for you?”
“He faked my death and then tortured me for six months until I was more…malleable.”
“How old were you?” Flag asks.
And isn’t that a punch in the gut.
Flag looks like he wants to punch something, because it’s easy enough to do the math. Waller put a fifteen year old boy in Belle Reve, then on her suicide squad. Waller took a fifteen year old child who’s been Deathstroke’s captive for years and put a bomb in his head so she could make him her captive instead.
Maybe Harley finally recognizes him then, maybe she calls him birdie, and he just has the saddest smile on his face when he turns to her.
“It’s okay, Harley,” he says softly. “That boy died a long time ago.”
“You know Batsy just about lost it when-” she cuts herself off, seeing the stiff, still smile on his face. And everyone else suddenly realizes just who this boy sitting next to them used to be. “He would take you back, Robin-”
“Robin is dead,” he cuts her off quickly. “Robin has been dead.”
“Batman doesn’t kill people,” Dick says forcefully. “Robin didn’t kill people. Robin took an oath. He’s dead, Harley. Deathstroke killed him. So just let him rest.”
The way his voice catches on the last word sends the entire group into silence.
Renegade is brutally efficient during that mission.
No one ever mentions what they learned about him during that trip. No one outside of that group ever finds out.
Until a few months later, when one of them makes their next request for a job well done that they want to speak with Batman.
Then you have Batman storming through Belle Reve, looking for this special yard where Waller’s special prisoners get to go, and he freezes when he sees him. No one moves a muscle.
And Batman is suddenly kneeling next to where Ren usually naps in the grass. It’s a sunny spot. It’s often joked that he’s like a giant cat. He made a joke once that he learned it from Catwoman.
Batman has one hand hovering over Ren’s cheek, looking as if he’s afraid that if he touches him, he’ll disappear. But then he strokes his hair like he used to when Dick would fall asleep on the couch before bed, coaxing him awake, and it’s so gentle, no one here has ever seen Batman be so gentle.
Then big blue eyes are blinking slowly at him, as if in a daze, as if he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing right in front of him.
“Hey, chum,” Batman whispers, still stroking his hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again.”
And everyone can see how Ren freezes. How he looks like he can’t decide if he should bolt or stay so still that maybe Batman won’t see him.
But then Batman is letting out a wet laugh and saying, “You know, I still owe you a milkshake from Bat Burger.”
And that had killed Bruce for the last four years, drowned him in guilt. Because he’d promised Dick a milkshake from Bat Burger the day before the last mission he went on. He’d put it off for a few days, he’d originally promised him one if he did well on his history test, and he’d gotten it back that Tuesday with an A. But they got busy and Bruce kept saying tomorrow, chum, we’ll go to tomorrow but then it was the morning of the mission and Dick asked for it before they went to Mount Justice, but Bruce said they could stop on the way home.
And he never got Dick that milkshake. He thought his baby died and he never got him the milkshake for doing so well on the History test he studied so hard for.
Then Ren is laughing. It starts slowly, then grows into desperate, hysterical giggles as he pushes himself up and then falls into Batman’s chest. And Batman squeezes his arms so tight around him, not wanting to let go.
“You promised me a milkshake!” Dick says desperately. “We were supposed to get it on the way home from school!”
“You kept saying tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow!”
“We were supposed to get it on the way home!” Dick’s voice cracks.
“I know,” Bruce’s voice shakes. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I don’t want a stupid milkshake!” Dick cries. “I just wanna go home.”
“I know,” Bruce says quickly, moving to cup Dick’s cheek in one hand while still keeping his other arm tight around him. “We’ll go home. We’re gonna go home right now, chum.”
“Of course you can,” Bruce insists. “We’ll go home, and I’ll get everything sorted out, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“She put a fucking bomb in my head!” he cries, his voice cracking. “I can’t go home! I can’t leave!”
“And I already disabled it,” Bruce says gently. “And when we get home, we’ll remove it.”
Dick shakes his head, then hides his face in Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce doesn’t mind, just holds him tight, whispering to him.
“She cannot keep you here,” he tells him. “You are one of Deathstroke’s victims. You were his prisoner. You are a child. She cannot punish you for things you were forced to do by a madman, and she certainly has no jurisdiction over the case of a minor.”
Dick feels dizzy as Bruce helps him stand up, but Bruce keeps him upright. He keeps him close, tucked beneath the cape, and it’s the safest Dick has felt in years.
