IT LIVES!

Welcome back everybody! Now I don't count this as a re-write, I will be keeping the bulk of this story untouched besides minor details and smoothing out stuff in general. However, these first few chapters will not be the same as the original. I will be keeping what happens (originally) in each ('new') chapter to their own chapter. Basically it follows the flow of the original but different stuff happens. It won't last too long though, only about the first five chapters, then its smooth sailing.

That being said, rewriting the first few chapters is taking me longer than previously thought, but chapters will come out when they come out. I'm just as excited about revamping AMOC as you guys are of reading it! And this time it actually has a plot! and an end! (literally, OG AMOC did not have that.)

Starting at 4380 words, a bit small, but a cute little throwback to when I was a smol and wrote smol chapters. HAVE FUN AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY UN-DEAD A MURDER OF CROWS!

It was dark.

Low clouds covered the midnight sky. The full moon refused to have it's light be obstructed by the near black clouds. It's light radiated through the clouds in a soft haze, sending uneven shadows on the ground. An artificial orange reflected off the clouds, the distant lights from the bustling crime-ridden city not far from the docks.

The lap of wind-driven waves sounded on the algae infested docks, the spray of the water gave the air surrounding it the distinct smell of fish and salt. The wind howled low between the warehouses, stirring up the litter and debris in little mini tornados. Telling its tale of the hard waves and unforgivable storms that could come to pass.

A shadow moved unseen across a roof, a good 20 feet in the air.

The wind grew louder and the warehouses' shuddered and groaned with the pressure, sounding almost ready to bend to the will of the weather. The shadow stopped as the wind settled down, returning to its low howl that whistled through small ears.

Everything seemed at peace, barely any movement except for the wind-buffed waves and slight tussle of raven black hair. But the figure knew better, warm bodies huddled together in the warehouse in front of the shadow. Their heartbeats combined made enough noise to scare a flock of pigeons, much too loud if they wanted to stay alive.

The rather small figure slowly crouched, getting low to the ground before inching forward. His movements were slow but purposeful, no energy wasted, no action uneccesary. Chillingly efficient.

The figure came to the edge of the roof, he settled down and sat on his heels. A shadow seemed to follow him, a black mass connected to his back. A stray gust of wind ruffled his unkempt hair, also moving a few feathers out of place. A pair of beautifully dark wings cradled his crouched form, buffering himself from the wind and further concealing him from sight.

He seemed frozen, the wild hair and feathers became one with the scenery. Any untrained eye would jump over the mundane movements of the night, searching for sudden sights and alarming action. The winged figure suppressed a shiver, the air was frigid, the wind biting at his bare nose and cheeks. His sightless eyes narrowed behind a white lensed mask, seeming tired in the late night, but his mind was much too alive, his limbs itching to stretch.

Itching to draw blood.

An inky black cloak cascaded down his shoulders, keeping what little warmth he had close to his body. The wind whistled through his ears again, sending vibrations out into the air. The vibrations hit walls and surfaces, giving insight to everything around him. The sound of the waves also proved useful as the vibrations it gave off gave him a perfect view of the yard below. The heartbeats and shuffling of the men in the warehouse revealed their location, if anything emitted sound, he could see it.

A single heart beat below him, the strong man stepped noiselessly into the open. The figure almost missed it, the only person able to sneak around his radar-like ears. Years of being in quiet rooms taught his ears to hear even the smallest of things, a breath, a blink, a tightening of muscles. But only in silence such as this was he able to hear such small things, normally he would not hear hearts unless he really concentrated. As the former stepped forth another heart moved from the other warehouse.

Now out of the warehouse that shielded the unknown figure from the sounds of the outdoors, the winged form could 'see' the man. He was skinny and well built but not as muscular as the man coming to meet him. He had stringy hair and wore a heavily padded jacket, not good for mobility but a smart choice for the weather.

The lines on his face became more defined as the two men moved closer, although one had a mask on. Lines darted across his mind's eye, processing the angles of the face and deducing the man was Tony Zucco. He was a hardened mob boss who had large ambitions but was too cowardly to achieve them due to the Justice League. He wouldn't be able to tell how he knew such things, some things he just knew and never questioned where the information came from. He knew all that he needed to know to take down the target, he didn't need to know where it came from.

The two men squared up, Zucco was tense, concealed fear evident in his body language. He stood too far away for any melee attacks but also knew the man he was meeting with was not stickler in causes of death. The crouched figure heard the larger man's muscles relax, but knew enough that those muscles would tighten and spring into action in a split second and you would be dead before you registered the blow.

"Deathstroke." Tony started calmly, almost a greeting. His vocal cords vibrated his words out, sending them high into the air and carried by the wind into the figure's ears. It was almost a yell to him, the only drawback of his enhanced hearing was their sensitivity. "You have something that belongs to me."

The one-eyed mercenary stood stoically, revealing no emotions despite speaking dangerously. "Maybe so, I don't plan on giving it back. You might be disturbed with what it can do."

Deathstroke put his hands behind his back rather diplomatically, a ploy. Hidden from view of the mob boss his hands started moving in sign language. To anyone else using sign language to give orders to a blind person would be counterintuitive, but the blind boy could see things even Superman would have trouble seeing.

It was time for the hidden figure to become found.

"You stole him, he was rightfully mine!" Tony said with a snarl, pointing angrily at the mercenary, "I did good work to get him, I didn't sell him off to be taken by someone else bec-"

The winged boy stood, catching the attention of Tony. The mob boss visibly gulped, taking in the sight that was Deathstroke's Crow. Something Tony believed to be a myth.

Crow stretched his cramped muscles from their prolonged stillness, his energy now ready to be put to use. He leaned forward, falling with practiced grace before spreading his wings and gliding up into the sky with powerful wing beats. Zucco's heart began to beat faster as he realized his mistake.

"Be-bec-because..." Zucco tried to continue, but he was silenced by fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the undoubtedly deadly assassin in the air.

Crow circled in the sky, surveying his prey that quaked on the ground. To them down there he was invisible, the only sign of his presence the sound of feathers and the occasional flap of his wings. In the air it was more difficult to 'see' as he was constantly moving but he was able to 'view' a broader area and the sound from the ground gave him a sense of direction. Too high and he'd get lost.

Deathstroke didn't move as his accomplice circled around him, this was routine. His outings always went this way, except for this time, this time the avian would land. The boy sensed his mentor's hands move again, signaling him to land and prepare to attack. Crow inclined his head in a silent affirmation, Deathstroke wouldn't see it, but the habit was not one he was willing to break.

He twisted his wings angling downwards in a speedy descent, circling tightly once before throwing his wings out to buffer him from landing too hard. His feet touched the ground in silence, barely a tap for how weighty the wings looked. The sudden gust of wind from his wings blew onto Tony, the man stumbling back stupidly. He was visibly scared, or as visibly the boy could sense. He felt the heart hammering in the man's chest, his weak knees, and knew that if Zucco spoke again the words would be wobbly and shaken.

"If I recall correctly, you sold it. You have no claim over my Crow." Deathstroke's deepened if that was possible, but Crow could hear the smile in his voice. "And a pity for you, grooming it into the perfect weapon was a much better use for its talents than what you had planned for it. It functions much better as a soldier than an undesirable plaything for your amusement." Deathstroke tutted and shook his head mockingly, "Such wasted talent... but an easy fix."

"H-h-how?" Tony stuttered, looking over the boy he barely recognized. Crow did not recognize him other than a target that was to be eliminated.

There had been rumors of the Crow, a fabled myth that Deathstroke had gained an apprentice. There was never any evidence because whoever came in contact with the apprentice would never be heard from again. Not even the top villains knew of him, but they had all heard the rumors, even the big bad bat heard but no one knew the truth. And the truth would remain a rumor until Deathstroke said so. Tony would never have imagined Deathstroke's Crow was his old pet. The child of The Flying Graysons.

"Rumors are a fickle thing, one has to be careful about who sees what." Deathstroke continued to drawl dangerously, a single eye narrowing on the mob boss. "I have a different plan for Crow's debut. How long do you think you are going to last?" The mercenary asked, his words clipped and mocking.

Zucco gulped, the rumors had been true then. Deathstroke wasn't going to let Zucco ruin the surprise. He meant to kill him. The man still seemed to be in shock when the air was driven out of his lungs.

Crow stepped back on the balls of his feet, the blow too fast for the mob boss to comprehend until he was hit. Zucco doubled over coughing, stumbling backwards and groaning. The sound gave Crow unique insight into the man's now injured body, sensing broken ribs, one precariously close to puncturing his left lung. Crow felt restless, Deathstroke hadn't given him the order to kill yet and he was itching for a fight.

The boy felt a smirk rise on his face anyway. He loved 'playing with his food' as Deathstroke called it. Not that he actually ate the person but they were his prey and his newfound joy in prolonging fights gave birth to the phrase. Not only was this the only time he was allowed outside but it was the only time Crow could kill. Fighting was in his blood, training with Deathstroke never yielded anything but bruises on his body and his ego. Out here though, he could finally please his master. But he had to be careful, if the fight took too long his master would intervene and there were harsh consequences when Crow didn't finish the job. Treading on the line was fun, if not the most dangerous thing in Crow's life.

Crow waited for orders as the man regained his breath, not that he had many left.

Zucco waved his thugs forward as he turned and ran. His only chance was to distract them and flee for his life, but even then Deathstroke would eventually find him again and silence him. Zucco might have a chance if he could get Batman on Deathstroke's tail, that would certainly give him some breathing room. But now he had to live long enough to get to Batman.

Twenty middle-aged men armed with random objects like baseball bats and crowbars surged forward past him. He was confident their numbers alone could overpower the winged boy, his master although, was a different matter completely.

Crow took a light step backward, but he was not afraid, simply getting a better angle for his attack. He tensed, however, because Zucco was running and he would escape if not caught soon. Deathstroke still hadn't given him any orders, he had to wait. It was nerve-wracking, he knew what his master would do if he disobeyed, but the mission was falling apart. Why hadn't Deathstroke given him an order yet?!

"He's getting away!" A small voice cried within himself.

"Shut up." He told it.

He shifted nervously as the throng of angry men came closer, bringing out his blades from his sides. The small but deadly sai sat nicely in his gloved hands, he forced himself to hold them loosely, as to not tip off his master he was nervous. The combined sound of the mob's feet hitting the ground and guttural war cries gave him a perfect view for him to fight. His hands tightened anyway, the men almost upon them and Deathstroke continued to be as responsive as a brick wall.

In a moment of weakness, Crow's heart lept into his throat and he jumped back.

With this extra space he ran forward, pounding his wings and lifting himself into the air over the mob. They tried to swipe at him but he was too high and he didn't stop to fight them. He shot off after Zucco, abandoning his master to the thugs as he went ahead without permission to go after the target.

His adrenaline no longer stemmed from the thrill of the hunt, he could feel his master's disappointment and disapproval from here. But he pushed that to the back of his mind, he would deal with the consequences of his actions later. Zucco was the target and Deathstroke can't get mad at him for killing the target because that's what he was trained to do.

Tony was still running along the docks, a stupid choice for him. The best offense against Crow was defense, a silent defense. No one would ever guess he was blind or how sensitive his senses were besides his master. And no one ever would.

Zucco's pounding heart and feet gave Crow his exact location and he zeroed in on his prey. He angled his wings down, drawing them in slightly to dive. Now low enough to the ground his wings spread, causing him to flap to keep his speed. Crow nearly smiled as the mob boss's panicked breathing spiked as heard the avian get closer. Despite his disobedience and the subsequent consequences he would receive later, the hunt was always fun.

Crow flicked his sai's up as he angled himself down one last time and plunged them into Zucco's back. The boy heard the bones brake with a sickening crack before sinking deeper to pierce his victim's heart and lungs.

Zucco didn't even cry out, his body fell with the sudden weight and lack of pumping blood. He felt the blood seep out of his arteries and into his body, he began to choke. With wide eyes, he spluttered on his own blood and within a few seconds his heartbeat faded into nonexistence.

Crow smiled, the life in the man was gone and it felt like a release in him too. An itch finally scratched.

His relief dropped faster than a dead bird shot out of the sky when a gloved hand grabbed his neck from behind him.

Crow gasped in surprise and his wings flared, then cursed himself for such a little sound to escape him and forced his wings to back down. Deathstroke's heavy presence breathed down on him, his grip impossibly tight on the young boy's scruff. The anger that was rolling off the mercenary in waves was almost palpable, all the warning bells were screaming in Crow's head. His adrenaline spiked again, sensing the man rearing an arm back. Fighting his instincts to fight back, Crow's head bowed to receive his punishment.

The blow hit his head, just short of boxing his ear, but still left that side of his head ringing. The force of the blow knocked Crow out of Deathstroke's hand and he fell to the ground in a heap. Tony Zucco's lifeless body was right next to him, the blood pooling from his body and souring the air with its irony scent. Crow wrinkled his nose, the adrenaline helping numb the pain for now but he stayed down, waiting for anything more.

"Get back to your cage," Deathstroke growled ominously. "I will deal with you soon."

Crow shuddered, the wing he hadn't landed on pressing closer to his person like the words themselves hit him. Then Deathstroke was gone.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Crow hit the ground hard, rolling painfully across the dirty warehouse floor before sliding to a stop on his side. He shakily rose to his hands and knees, blood trickling from his nose. He closed his eyes and braced for impact as another steel-toe booted kick was sent into his side.

Crow grunted to keep from shouting and the kick moved him another three feet. This time he wasn't allowed to get back up. The boot settled on his wing, crushing it into his shoulder and pinning him to the cold ground. This time Crow couldn't stop himself, crying out in agony as his other wing flapped uselessly against the ground.

"Pathetic." Deathstroke snarled above him, leaning more weight into his foot just to see the avian writhe under him. "I taught you better than this."

This time Crow's mouth opened in a silent scream as the pressure on his two shoulders increased unbearably before lifting off. He panted fast, feeling numb and pain all over.

"And you were doing so well," Deathstroke's deceivingly calm voice continued behind Crow, moving to his other side. He didn't have the energy to flinch as hand gripped his hair and yanked his head up. He whimpered pitifully, unfiltered pain now escaping his very exposed throat. "It was a simple test my Crow, you were supposed to wait for orders like a good little bird. Instead I have to teach it to you again."

On that last word another fist came flying at his face, twisting the boy out of his grip. Crow landed on his chest, his breath driven out of him and he felt his eyes sting. "P-please— M-master—" He croaked brokenly into the warehouse floor, "it-it w-w-sn't me! I swear!"

Deathstroke had stilled, a dangerous new development. Crow slowly moved to his knees, feeling achy and numb and hoping his master would finally give him mercy. He went to stand up but Deathstroke shoved him with his foot, driving him into the ground again. "Explain."

Crow bit back a sob, back shaking with the effort to simply just breathe. He wasn't allowed to fight back, not during punishments like this. He was barely granted the gift of free speech on a good day.

He spoke where he was, bowed low and vulnerable before his master. "I-I didn't mean to-to disobey you Master! It was Robin! I would never disobey you Master!" He pleaded, feeling hot tears travel down his nose to drip onto the floor. He shook with want, with desire to be free of this pain, to be pleasing to his Master again. "I would have waited for your o-orders and would-would have followed them! J-just like I a-always do! Robin wanted to go after the target b-before you ordered anything, not me! Please Master!"

He continued to grovel at Deathstroke's feet, pleading with the mercenary that he didn't deserve this punishment. "Pl-please, please Master... please—"

Crow flinched and yelped when Deathstroke's hand grabbed his shoulder and suddenly he was on his feet. His knees felt shaky and he was grateful for the hand on his shoulder giving him stability. His wings trembled behind him and he felt himself fall forward. Crow's face just barely scraped Deathstroke's metal playing when another hand pushed him back. He waited with bated breath, felling the need to sink low again to please his master with his devotion. He kept his head bowed in respect, Crow would do anything Deathstroke asked.

"Robin again?" He spoke roughly, his single eye seemingly able to burn a hole through Crow's bowed head.

The avian nodded quickly, swallowing his dry throat. It wasn't his fault, Crow followed orders, Robin did not. The hands on his shoulders got tighter and Crow almost liked it, he wanted to fall into his master's arms and sob, he hated Robin, he hated disobeying Master.

Deathstroke then released his shoulders and drew back with a sigh. Crow felt on high alert, such action from Deathstroke could only mean something bad was about to happen. "Time for another realignment then."

Crow felt his heart thump in his throat and all the blood drained from his face.  He rushed forward, grabbing onto the man's arm but didn't dare tug. He wasn't allowed to fight back, but he was allowed to grovel. "Please! Please Master no! Master plea—"

A punch was delivered to Crow's gut and he sunk to the ground. He gasped and hurt, clutching his stomach and curling up right there on the floor. Deathstroke paid him no mind, stepping over him and meaning to leaving his cage.

No, no no no no.

Crow felt on fire, despite all the pain he was in one last adrenaline rush boosted him to his feet. He ran at his master, begging him, "Please Master! It wasn't my choice!" He dragged at his arm, not knowing what else to do but keep his master from delivering the punishment known as 'realignment'.

Crow was easily rebuffed, one flick of the mercenary's wrist and Crow stumbled back. His wings stabilized him sooner than most would and he dove forward again, this time refusing to let go. "Please! It wasn't me!"

Crow was too blinded by pain and emotions to see the hit come, he just remembered the shock of pain exploding in his head as it hit the ground first, the rest of him splaying painfully around him.

"I don't care if it wasn't you." Deathstroke snarled and panic settled into Crow's bones. The avian heafted himself up on his forearm, panting heavily. He only heard the crackling of Deathstroke's new weapon as warning before lightning blistered from his gut and traveled through his body. He screamed and writhed, stopping only when the electric baton was removed.

Deathstroke continue speaking, his words landing like acid on Crow's prone form. "You still let Robin influence you in the field. That is unacceptable. He shouldn't be able to influence you at all."

Crow writhed up with renewed screams as the baton was pushed into his side. Deathstroke lashed out at him a few more times, hitting him square on the jaw once and twice in the leg and an agonizingly long jab where his wings joined with his back.

By the end of it Crow had lost his voice, reality was drifting in and out and all he could do was focus on breathing.

"Pathetic." He heard Deathstroke through cotton, then the man left.

Crow knew he was in danger, he knew that Deathstroke was leaving so he could initiate 'realignment'. He knew he knew he knew. But he couldn't make himself get up again. So he waited, rasping painfully against the dirty warehouse ground as every little sound made him jump, thinking it was the gas.

He flinched hard when the gas finally came, hissing from all directions and already giving him another headache on top of his other headaches. It was loud and it hurt and it messed with his senses. Crow made one last ditch attempt to get to his feet and flee the quickly falling gas, but all he could do was scramble against the ground painfully. He clawed at the floor, wailing in desperation to get away and fear when he couldn't. The gas was like acid to his nose, the sound from the pipes like a drill into his ears. Everything felt hot and close and he didn't like it. It burned, and he screamed.

He screamed until his throat was sore, until he was writhing on the floor, grabbing at his head to ease the pain even just a little. He was crying again, tasting it on his tongue as he continued to scream. It hurt, it hurt and it didn't stop until finally he welcomed the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

Deathstroke stood outside the cage, his mask filtering the yellow gas. He had stopped the flow of gas ages ago but it lingered and he liked to watch the fight leave his little bird.

Finally, the screaming stopped.

Two faceless assistants wearing gas masks walked forward on his left, rolling along with them a small portable cage. They entered Crow's large bird cage, heading for the boy directly.

"I want Robin gone." He said to them, eye boring into the unconscious avian they were loading into the cage.

Questions? Yes Crow is blind, he sees like Daredevil or Toph. He has actual wings and they do have a Tragic Backstory^TM. This Dickie really do have the Tragic Backstory^TM of all Tragic Backstory's^TM.

See ya next time!