Robin In Chains
Part One: Got Him
Eight months is a long time. A lot can happen. Lives can be changed, turned upside-down, or even ended.
Eight months under him would be enough to drive most people to suicide. But not the one who was under him. He couldn't.
He was crouched rather precariously on a steel girder, surveying the tall tower that was the building in front of him. He mentally went over what he was to do to retrieve tonight's objective for the hundredth time: since he was literally working for his sleep and food, and for no bruises, he couldn't afford to fail again.
The night breeze swept through his messy black hair, and before the verbal nudge from the transmitter in his ear had a chance to be sent, he stood and prepared to break into the skyscraper.
He wore a tight black outfit, armoured on the arms and legs and covering every part of him save his head and half his neck. The only splash of colour was the orange covering half the chest. This uniform was imprinted on the minds of every citizen in this city, everyone whom he used to protect…but now it, and therefore he, were synonymous with fear. The one whom he answered to hardly ever came above ground, but the stylised 'S' on the orange was enough to tell anyone around the world who he worked for.
Eight months of being blackmailed into being Slade's apprentice had changed Robin. He knew all too well that he was in a very deep rut, and as they say, 'the only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth'. He was now the enemy to the rest of the world, sinking his city into anarchy. The Titans were dead, all four of them, killed brutally three weeks into Robin's forced apprenticeship. Since then, knowing he was alone in the world, and with mistakes costing him rest, food and more and more beatings, it was either remain with Slade or die. And the second option was via murder, not suicide.
From being adventurous, friendly, confident and a gung-ho leader, Robin had become passive, quiet and very withdrawn. This had come as a surprise, as this was not what had been expected. Still, Slade was just biding his time with him.
There. It came. The sinister, sibilant voice in his ear, reminding him of his objective. Not bothering to reply, he set off.
&&&
It had gone very wrong, very quickly.
He had managed to sneak inside the skyscraper vault to steal what it was that Slade wanted/needed this time. Half the time he could hardly guess what on earth he could possibly do with the thing(s) he stole, and this was one of them; what looked like three little motherboards glued together in a prism shape with a plethora of wires splaying out from it in all directions. But as he was heading back towards the vault door, something made the outside keypad explode in a yellow flash; the door slammed shut. With no way to open it from the inside, Robin made his own exit through the ceiling.
Scrambling up an upward-sloping air vent with friction pads on his knees, he hurried to get to the top. He knew from experience only recently gained that upward-sloping air vents always opened out onto the rooftop, and from there in the cool night air he could escape. But this vent was beginning to become very hot.
At a two-way section, the intense heat roaring down from one path instantly set his mind against it. His mind warned him about danger; perhaps whatever blew up the vault door had triggered a fire, but not only that, he was on the lookout for traps. Ambushes.
Hurling the vent grille to the side, Robin leapt out onto the roof, sweating like crazy from the heat inside and from the tension curling in his stomach. That anxiety was answered almost straight away: several warning shots flew past his head and buried themselves in the concrete behind him. Wondering for a split-second why the police were getting more and more involved, and for another split-second to devise a getaway, he turned and fled.
So Robin was running for his life. Again. He'd been doing that a lot in the past eight months. Oh, not for his life as in his livelihood: he didn't have one. Not any more. No, he ran simply to survive.
But this time, that survival was going to be brought to an abrupt halt. Not a stop, just a pause.
A keen eye watched his progress across the roof, focusing intently on the bare skin that the now-feared uniform did not cover. As his target slowed for half a second to look over his shoulder, the keen eye narrowed, and he fired.
Robin gasped out loud at the sudden sharp pain that punctured the skin at the back of his neck. He tried to keep running, but the colours of the night were swiftly beginning to blend into each other, and a roaring came into his ears, blocking out the exclamations from the transmitter. He turned once, his eyes rolled up and he collapsed.
The archer on the high balcony nodded grimly.
"Got him."
A skinny, blonde-haired girl came up beside him. She wore a dark yellow tight sweater and black trousers covered with pockets. She crouched down beside the ginger-haired, red-clad teenager.
"How strong was that stuff?" she asked, amazed at the speed the tranquillizer had brought him down. From running and jumping to slumped to the floor on his back, the transformation had taken only twenty seconds. She suspected his elevated pulse had carried the powerful sedative to his brain quicker, but even though it was what she had expected, she was still shocked.
"As strong as we dared. We need to get answers, and we need to defeat that madman. If Robin is still Robin, he may be the key. We need him safe first."
"And safe means restrained?" asked the girl. The archer smiled reassuringly at her with angled eyebrows.
"That may have to be. Don't forget, the police detectives are involved here. Our city's been spiralling into fear during the last year; it's our responsibility to pull it out." The third speaker, a long-haired young man wearing blue and black, clambered down off the balcony and began to approach the completely unconscious form of someone he used to know.
The first thing he did was crouch down and hold a hand over Robin's face to check he was still breathing. The potent drug they had used had a tendency to paralyse the diaphragm as well as the skeletal muscles. Robin was still breathing softly, but the man crouched beside him gently tilted his head back as a precaution to keep his airways open. He then reached over to remove the transmitter from Robin's ear, and then he pulled a powerful magnet from a pocket to short out any other electrical device that may be there. He had to make sure only they and a few senior policemen knew where he had been taken.
The other two from the balcony joined him. They had only begun to relax when one of those senior policemen came onto the roof and saw their handiwork.
"Good work," he said.
"It was easy," said the teenager in red.
"Almost too easy. I haven't forgotten last time," said the blonde girl. Last time, Robin had been ambushed – literally – by a veritable mob of policemen, but his gymnastic ability had proven his escape and their downfall. They had had him pinned down by his outstretched arms, but had only two people holding his legs spread-eagle; Robin had almost done the splits upside-down as he shunted everyone off him with one decisive move, allowing him to leap to his feet and run. The episode had lasted forty seconds yet they had been defeated so easily.
"Last time we hadn't considered tranquillizer darts," agreed the policeman. "All right, you three, you'd better start putting out the false trails. I'll take the boy into custody…hmm."
The three knew their next stage of the plan, and the girl looked a little anguished. She did not like this plan much, especially the effects it might have, but she knew that it could result in an overall victory for them. But at the sight of the officer's shifted expression, she and the two boys followed his gaze and looked down.
The officer had seen Robin move his left hand slightly; perhaps he was coming to faster than they anticipated. "I thought I might need this," he said bleakly, pulling a thin box out of his pocket. Inside was another, larger, syringe.
"What's that for?" exclaimed the teenager in blue. His two companions were similarly shocked.
The officer crouched down, pulled off one of the metal arm-plates and pulled back the black fabric to expose the bare skin of the elbow of Robin's right arm. "You used thiopental. Fast acting, but fast to wear off. It'd have only kept him out for ten minutes. This," he said with rigid finality, pressing the needle against the inside of Robin's elbow, " – will keep him out for six hours. More than long enough."
The three watched with varying levels of apprehension as he inserted the needle into a vein and plunged Robin into drugged sleep even further. The proof could be seen as Robin's left hand, slowly lifting as he was beginning to wake, sank back down upon the additional sedation. The policeman, after sending the three downstairs to continue, and lifting the limp body in his arms, allowed himself to grin slightly. Today was the beginning of the end of Slade's empire.
Hiya all! My name is Aliso (well, that's my nickname) and this is my first uploaded story. I'm going to add all the author's notes and stuff down da bottom. I don't own Teen Titans, and I'd love it a lot if you'd tell me whatcha think of what I can pull out my scrambled mind. Cheers in advance!
