Categories > Cartoons > Young Justice

An Agent's Resolve

by staycool1214 0 reviews

His life was never simple, always struggling to survive from one day to the next. In a city such as Gotham, he was lucky to not have been corrupted by the darkness that surrounded him every day. Ho...

Category: Young Justice - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Romance - Published: 2021-02-19 - 4173 words

Chapter 1

A/N: This takes place Barbara Gordon (Batgirl) and our OC, Samuel Scotts being sixteen years old with Dick Grayson being thirteen. Just to help clear up any problems you might have and begins a year before the Young Justice timeline begins, which will only follow Young Justice Season 1-2.

Gotham City, a city that many believed was beyond the borders a utopia and beyond the hope of ever becoming one itself. A clear reminder of the indescribable gap between their American dream and what reality was really like.

Gotham City stood as the definition of crime and corruption with danger around every corner. The city is just waiting to make an orphan out of its future generation. However, there was a utopia that stood as a clear contrast, called Metropolis or the City of Tomorrow. And unlike them, their justice was not blind, but was instead as strong as steel.

He who was held as a symbol of hope.

The police took bribes from the various crime families and so the city stayed as a safe haven for those wanting to live a life of crime, and a living hell on earth to the good people of Gotham. That changed however, arriving soundlessly in the dark of night came a new form of justice seeking to punish all those who would poison his beloved city.

A man, a myth, a legend. Appearing as if he were a bat the prowled the streets of Gotham seeking his next victim. Victims that extorted the innocent and committed crimes not because they needed to, but because they wanted to.

In the span of a few months since his emergence, the crime bosses that once ruled Gotham had their influence vastly reduced as the people of Gotham were finally given a symbol of hope to believe in. Everyone called him a lie, a false messiah, some a hero, others a vigilante. They all believed that he could not save them, could not bring them true salvation from the corruption of their city.

But there was no denying that Batman was Gotham's silent protector, maybe even the hero they had all longed for.

Yet the bitter reality still stood despite his best efforts, Gotham still stood as the symbol of crime and corruption, still the dystopia it had been for so long. It was an aspect of the city that had been so deeply ingrained into the very fabric of its being that the question was raised, if there was no crime, would it still be Gotham?

The city's criminal element having seemingly licked their wounds has grown smarter and more dangerous the longer and harder Batman fought against them. But again, the question was raised. What good was fighting the symptoms, when the host was still infected.

It could be said that for that reason alone, most rarely ventured forth into the most unsavoury underbelly of the decayed City. Said to be all but certain death after the night sets in, hiding their sin from view. But could that really be true or had they, in their conformity, created their own demons? After all, why struggle for an unknown outcome that may never come when you could live a relatively safe yet monotonous life? The crime around you growing while you kept your head down and continued on, pretending it didn't exist.

That may be the case for most however, Barbara Gordon, niece and foster daughter to the current Commissioner James Gordon, was not one of those people. Walking down the street with grace like a gazelle, nimble yet hiding a surprising amount of strength. She was a beautiful young woman with bright red hair, enchanting green eyes and figure that while still developing, drew the gaze of many men. Each of them making any sound possible to gain her attention.

Still, Barbara ignored the unwanted gestures. Long ago she had found the comments, whistling, leers, car horns and vulgar gestures that came her way uncomfortable and worrying. Now she viewed them as far beneath her, unwilling to even dignify the actions with her acknowledgment. Many viewed it as simple arrogance on her part and many would agree, she was beautiful, but there was only one person's attention she wanted upon her.

She did however speed up a little at the sight of a familiar apartment building, paying no mind to the men that were still, fruitlessly trying to gain her attention. Nothing could keep her from coming, not the long commute, the grimy rundown building, nor all the numerous men and women doing drugs and various over chemical substances. Each of them trying to reach high that would make them forget the cruel reality of the world they live in. She moved past them all on the way up, never discouraged with a faint smile on her lovely lips that seemed to grow the higher she got. Coming to a stop in front of the room 666, the irony of it sadly lost on her.

Pulling out a small key, she unlocked the door and entered the apartment making sure to place her bag on the kitchen countertop and took a moment to look around. It was bare and if it wasn't for the dirty dishes in the sink. She could even see a few 'adult' magazines - some featuring cosplays of certain heroines and villainesses - as well as a number of young childish comics about spec ops agents. Really, you wouldn't even believe someone was here, it looked abandoned, if not for the recent mess.

Her eyes did stall slightly as they looked at the few pictures on the walls, they were wonky and looked to be on the verge of falling off. Most were of her and her childhood friend, Sam and even a few of her uncle and foster father, James as they grew up however, there were two that caught her attention the most.

They were the smallest of the pictures, but they were by far the most important to her and to Sam Scotts. Her parents had died when she was young, only five and while she didn't remember them very well, she did miss them. Over the course of the years she had lived in Gotham, James had gone from being her uncle to becoming her father, but part of her had always wanted to know what it was like to have a mother.

But she did.

Sam had been her childhood friend and his parents, Jennifer and Daniel had always treated her kindly. While he might have seemed a bit wimpy and girly at first glance, Uncle Dan was like the kind and fun uncle. Aunt Jen on the other hand had not only been a doting mother to both her and Sam, she had also been a cool older sister that she had looked up to. Both beautiful and strong with a penchant for pranks that Sam had inherited.

Their deaths had been difficult to bear, for everyone. Even now she would think of them in fondness, the impact they left still ringing strong, be it good or bad.

Moving forwards, Barbara twisted the pictures, one of Uncle Dan and Aunt Jen at their wedding, both smiling happily in a small chapel and the other of tired but smiling Dan, Jen, and a sleeping baby Sam. It always brought a smile to her, he looked so adorable as a baby.

Turning to the wall beside it, she took a deep breath having noticed the bloody handprint on the wall near the bedroom door. Her chest tightening up the more she looked at it, even now she wasn't able to properly deal with him getting hurt, nor was she truly able to confront him over it.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and saw her childhood friend trying and failing to patch up the cut on his side.

Sam was the same age as her, sixteen with voluminous wavy blonde hair and an alluring shade of grey eyes she had ever seen. His face was slightly plump in the cheeks and while he was certainly in good shape, the clearly defined muscles serving as proof, there were still hints of baby fat here and there. Not that she thought it detracted from him as he was in far better shape than most guys their age.

Shaking her head before thoughts reached deeper hidden feelings, Barbara moved forward, convincing herself that she was unaffected by the handsome and half-naked teen in front of her. "It's honestly amazing that despite how many times you injure yourself, you're still hopeless when it comes to applying first aid." She said as she took the cloth filled with disinfectant and threw it into the bin, but not after shaking it in his face irritably. "Too much disinfectant, idiot."

"My bad." The blonde chuckled as they moved towards his unmade, single bed and sat down upon it as Barbara applied the correct amount of disinfectant and began dabbing his wounds. "Ow." He flinched away as he felt his wounds sting.

"Hush, you big baby." Barbara scolded him, a small frown of concentration on her face.

"It stings." The blonde protested. "You'd think that after the number of times I've injured myself, that I'd be used to it by now." Barbara said nothing as she meticulously applied a sterile plaster over the cut, but her frown deepened. She knew full well what he had been doing despite the various lies he told her about what he actually did.

When he was younger, he had been sent to juvenile prison a number of times for stealing. He had stopped thankfully, only for Barbara to soon learn that he had started doing something far more dangerous, street fighting.

They were dangerous simply because there were no rules except no guns. And while weapons were frowned upon, there were a number of times that knives were pulled out and Sam had the scars to prove it. It seemed that when it all came down to it, nothing mattered so long as you won, though who truly won was another story. Only those who pulled the strings came out on top, they made sure to find value in fighters even when they could no longer fight.

What were a few missing organs when their families needed to eat? Falling deeper and deeper into the hole, with no way to get out. Of course, that was only known because of who she truly was. Her secrets only came to light under the cover of darkness where no one could see.

Pulling away, she gave his upper body a once over for anymore injuries, running her hand down a particularly nasty scar over his chest as she did so, spending a few moments longer than necessary to feel him up. "It's getting so difficult to tell the old cuts and bruises from the new ones." Barbara whispered, concern evident in her voice. "Why do you do this to yourself, Sammy? You know my dad offered you a home, you can come live with us."

Sam simply smiled sadly and took her hand in his. "I can look after myself, besides I like it here." Barbara just stared at him, not convinced in the slightest by his words. And even if she was, she wouldn't want him to stay here alone, wanting him to be with her, however that ended up being.

"That'd be almost believable if it wasn't for the fact you've told me on numerous occasions that you hate it here and how you want to travel the world." She said, pulling away as the two moved into the main room, with Sam going straight to the couch to watch TV while Barbara poured him a drink of water. "Here."

Sam's hand shot up and caught the bottle of pills she threw at him before they hit his head. "What are these?" He asked while looking at the information printed on the side.

"You say you can look after yourself, but you're constantly working different jobs to try and pay rent, but for some reason always go to those street fights and come back looking like you've been put through a meat grinder." She moved forward and sat down beside him, giving him the glass of water. "They're painkillers. Things I've been telling you to buy, but you never do. So, go on, take them."

"I'll do it." Sam went to put the bottle down, but Barbara stopped him before he could. She made sure that with one hand she held the glass of water steady out towards him, while the other pushed his hand holding the bottle back towards him.

"I want to see you take the prescribed amount and you will take them." Sam's eyes narrowed and Barbara's did the same.

"Alright." Sam opened the bottle and downed two pills, making sure to take a large gulp of water to assist in swallowing the pills. "Happy?"

Barbara smirked and rested her head on the back of the sofa. "Very." The two sat in a comfortable silence as they listened to the sound of the TV playing. Neither said anything as Barbara looked up at the ceiling, her thoughts unknown to him, while Sam found himself staring at Barbara. Yet again unable to keep his eyes off her.

She had always been his first friend. Ever since they were kids, they had been the best of friends. Even after his parents died and had been moved to an orphanage, – one he kept on running from, including every foster home he was taken too – before eventually going out and living on his own, she had always been his best and only friend. The one constant in his life, the one person if he was being honest, he couldn't do without.

True, they were an odd pair if he thought about it, yet she completed him unlike anyone currently on this planet. Those words rang truer than he could possibly know.

Barbara, even when they were young, had always been kind and innocent. Always seeing the good in people and willing to befriend everyone. He had been much the same way until his parents died and after that, he locked himself away; but never from Barbara. She could be just as stubborn as him and she wasn't willing to leave him alone, even when he acted like an asshole to her for a little while. But Barbara stuck by him, able to see that Sam was in pain and alone.

Even now, in Gotham Academy – a school he only just managed to get into because of a sports scholarship – Barbara was one of the most beautiful and popular girls around. Guys and girls lined up to be her friend and in the former case, more than friends. Yet somehow, Barbara still wanted to be his friend, an orphan from Gotham's slums and Gotham Academy's very own delinquent.

Still, it didn't change the fact that she wasn't wrong, he was struggling. Money wasn't exactly easy to come by, especially around these parts, not without resorting to crime. Outside of the slums, it was even harder to find jobs because of the slums notoriously high crime rate, even with Batman interfering.

Every week he would be fired on some half-assed excuse by his bosses and he would have to find a new job to ensure he could pay rent, school tuition and make sure that he had food. Not to mention trying to pay off his parent's debt, which only seemed to be growing as he was constantly behind on payment.

And every single time he resorted to Gotham's Underground Fighting ring. A barely legal institution that had on many occasions been shut down by Batman, but would constantly appear a few months down the line due to Batman's attention being drawn to the chaos caused by Gotham's many supervillains.

He had been awful at it, usually going in to fight men twice his age with biceps the size of his head and each and every time he would be beaten within an inch of his life. But with every fight, he got better and better. He could react almost instantly to people's wild and untrained attacks and respond with brutal punches to carefully targeted weak points.

Was he a master fighter? Hardly. He simply knew how to use the basics with great efficiency. Most of his opponents fell into one of two categories, they were either all muscle and no skill, believing that just because they were buff that they could beat everyone. Or guys who had taken maybe one or two lessons and suddenly thought they were Bruce Lee.

To call him a master would be like saying, he hasn't thought of Barbara in a Batgirl costume re-enacting some of his more male driven fantasies.

Without meaning too, Sam snorted in amusement at that thought. Yep, he definitely wasn't a master, but he sure as hell wouldn't go down without putting up a fight.

"What?" Barbara asked, her head turning to look at him and Sam simply raised a brow in questioning. "You've been looking at me this entire time and you just snorted. Cute sound by the way."

"Uhh, well…" Sam scratched his cheek, which was stained slightly red with a blush. "You're kind of distracting." Barbara sat up and stared at him, this time it was her that had one brow raised in questioning, though he was thankful to note that there was a small dusting of pink on her cheeks. "I-I mean, that well…you're distracting, in, in a g-good way…" He trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle, while scratching that back of his head in embarrassment, an act that made Barbara smile at the familiar and adorable nervous tick.

"Distracting in a good way?" Barbara questioned with her smile widening as the blush on her cheeks darkened. Thankfully, she had turned away so he couldn't see or she'd be even more embarrassed.

"Yup." Sam said as he leaned back on the sofa, turning to look out the window. It was then he noticed the time on the wall. "Eleven o'clock. Is your Dad picking you up?"

Barbara shook her head. "No, I'm staying over at a friend's house tonight. We and a few others have been talking about having a sleepover for a while now and her mum will be here in a few minutes."

"Oh." Sam hid the disappointment he felt at her leaving so soon after her arrival. "Have fun I guess." Barbara smiled, likewise hiding the sadness she felt, hating having to lie to him about what she was really doing. But she couldn't tell him that she was going out and fighting crime as Batgirl, he'd act like Jim if he found out and freak out. Sam had always been protective of her, trying to hide her from the harsh truth of the world and on numerous occasions had gotten into fights both in and out of school due to guys not understanding the meaning of 'no.'

It was equal parts flattering and frustrating because at times she felt like Sam didn't trust her to protect herself. Yet at the same time she understood why he did it, as far as he was aware, she couldn't protect herself. He didn't know that she had any form of defence training besides that one time he taught her to punch when they were twelve and she hadn't exactly told him otherwise.

"Yea, will do." She responded, getting a more genuine smile from him, though it was still strained. "Try not to kill yourself this weekend."

"I'll try." He chuckled and Barbara took his hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze before getting up and leaving.

Sam walked calmly through the corridors of the prestigious academy of Gotham. A school that until recently, only catered to the richest and wealthiest families of Gotham City. That had changed when Bruce Wayne had begun supplying a sizable, annual fee to the academy under the condition they offer scholarships and reduce the tuition fee to those from poorer families.

It was a generous offer from the otherwise billionaire playboy, but one thing he had forgotten to take into account was the number of assholes that usually took up the vast majority of children that entered Gotham Academy. Or at least that's what it appears as.

Sam himself, ignored the occasional jeer and insult that came his way from a bunch of jocks. That's all they did, insult him from afar. They had learned the lesson that you never start a fight or even invade Sam's personal space and insult him at the same time. If you did, we'll let's just say you were more than likely to end up headfirst in a nearby wall.

Fights between Sam and the jocks had been a common occurrence in his first year at the Academy. His very presence in the Academy and position as the only guy that Barbara Gordon had shown an ounce of interest in was a threat to their ego. It had gotten so bad that the teachers had threatened to expel Sam and anyone who got involved in fights in school grounds, but all that did was mean that the fights usually took place outside of them.

However, that all changed when one particular jock had come to the school late having gotten drunk with his recently graduated friends and pulled a knife out on Sam. That particular fight had ended with the boy going to the hospital with numerous broken bones, fractures and dislocations. The teachers had to practically pry Sam off the unconscious student.

It was safe to say that Sam had sent the students of Gotham Academy a message that had destroyed any and all attempts of him trying to make friends. Not that he was interested in the first place, the struggle he had with affording everything meant he had barely any spare time. Though Barbara always found a way to make sure that they spent time together.

Entering the classroom, Sam sat down at the desk and allowed his head to drop onto his crossed arms, intent on catching up on the sleep he had missed out on last night. That was his plan, but it was never to be as a hand slammed down onto his desk jolting him into an upright position.

"Barbara?" He questioned following the hand up to the face of his childhood friend. "What the hell?!"

"Class starts in a minute; be thankful I woke you up before the teacher does." She said haughtily, though both of them knew she was simply doing this as an act. "Besides, I needed to ask if you've done the work that was in for today, the work I specifically reminded you to do all week."

"Ugh…" Sam's head collapsed onto the desk. "Crap, I forgot." He looked up and saw Barbara staring down at him, one hand on her hip that was cocked to the side, her face set into one of disappointment.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Sammy?" She asked. "I mean, we both know you're not the smartest guy, but you sure as hell can be determined and willing to learn. If you put half of the determination you have into beating up guys in a ring, then you sure as hell can be one of the top students in class. But you don't."

Sam just sighed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to quell the impending headache he knew would come when the teacher came in. "Look, I've just been really busy, haven't had time to do the work."

Barbara shook her head and took a seat at her desk next to Sam's. "He's gonna tear you a new one." She snarked and Sam shot her a dirty look, which she returned by maturely sticking out her tongue.

"Oh well…" Sam scoffed, while crossing his arms. "He's a stuck-up prick, maybe if he actually wasn't such a prick, I might actually be willing to learn some of the things he teaches us." This earned a short laugh from Barbara.

He turned to look at her and raised one eyebrow in questioning. "Please, we both know that you hate school and the only reason you come is because I force you." She responded. "It wouldn't matter if he was a stuck-up prick or not, if I didn't make you come to school, you wouldn't bother learning at all."

Sam simply smirked at her. "Maybe, who knows." It was Barbara who raised one brow at him this time, obviously not convinced.

However, before she could say anything the door opened and in stepps the teacher. Something which made Sam give her a smirk at getting the last word before she turned to listen as the teacher did a roll call. Sam on the other hand, went back to resting his head on the desk intent on catching up on some sleep.
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