His pores screamed in protest at the harsh contact with the chilling pavement. Insufferable pain ripped through his body, radiating through every fiber like the sun. He couldn't handle this. Somehow, Slade had gotten stronger. Scath, he figured, had granted him these terrible powers.
Struggling against the fatigue, he spots his weapon within arm's reach. Stretching out his bruised arm, determination spikes his blood, hot and powerful as it courses through his body. No, the Titans would not be defeated! Not if he could help it.
Sprawled out around him, he knew that his teammates lay in pain. He had heard their strangled cries and felt the heat of Slade's inferno crush each of them to defeat. Reaching out to his last hope, his gloved fingers nearly grasped the lethal weapon until a metal foot smashed it to pieces. His last hope… shattered.
No…
Looming over him in a bestial stance, Slade couldn't help but toy with the hero a little more. "You know, I actually like working for someone else. It lets me be a little more… hands on." Licking flames encircled his offending hand, aimed precisely at the Boy Wonder's head. Robin could feel the heat of the fire and the promise of absolute pain. But in that mere moment his purpose grew more profound than ever.
Hands on…
Anger scorched his veins, blood boiling as he remembered how Raven's reclusive ways had intensified after her birthday.
Struggling back to her feet, the black material hung in shreds off her shoulders. She shuddered as a slight wind pricked her skin and crossed her arms over her bare stomach.
Equitably removing his cape, he watched as Raven quietly accepted it and hid from her exposure to the world. Granted that she was an empath, Robin knew she could feel his sudden anger and fierce, protective urges. Her gaze collided with his, desperate and confused.
"Why is your uniform ripped? What did Slade do to you?"
She flinched, drawing the cape even tighter around her. He should have known better than to probe her with questions…
In a torrent of flames, Slade blasted the boy, holding back nothing. But the heat of his strike was nothing compared to the intensity of Robin's fury.
He had been wrong. There was still hope, hope at the hands of a girl damned to her sire. Hope entrusted to the girl who was said to end the world.
A/N: This is set in the middle of "The Prophecy." I had been watching it and when Slade said "hands on," this immediately came to mind.