Joker once said, "All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man into lunacy."
It was, for her, rather strange.
It was impossible. A sane man, she knew, handled himself better each day. He would be stronger, braver and wiser as he faced tomorrow. He would use these to overcome many obstacles in his way to success. He would protect and serve the ones he loved. Sometimes, he would be knocked down. But that would not stop him from getting back up on his feet and continue doing what he was doing.
If he could do this, what more can the sanest man do?
The sanest man would have been the strongest, bravest and wisest among them. Overcoming an obstacle was just a piece of cake for him. He would serve and protect not only the people he love, but also others— the innocent people who knew nothing about the dangers lurking from place to place in this forsaken world. He would never be knocked down, since he was already more than strong enough to defeat whoever wanted him dead. Not only that, but the sanest man was also the one with most flaws, most fears, and he, being intelligent as he was, used this flaws and fears to furthermore empower his body, mind and soul. Using this, he may appear as invincible to others, the man who did not have a weakness, who did not have fears. He was near perfection.
No— he is already perfection.
Like someone she knew.
This man, this perfect man, she thought, was the sanest man. He was a natural born leader. He was the strongest among them all, both physically and mentally. His skills were above an ordinary man, he was wise, intelligent, literally. He was like a machine when he moved to save the day. Yes, he could be egotistical at times, but underneath that egotistical self was a caring, loving and simple man, whose goal was to serve, to protect and to love. She knew this man had burdens every day. But had she seen him give up, break down and allowed his fears to conquer him?
No.
That was why she knew what Joker said was rubbish.
Until she was proven wrong.
Dead wrong.
That day was supposed to be one of the best days he would ever had. It was planned out well for his loved one. She helped. Of course, she was his bestfriend (and secretly, she loves him as well). She remembered what she did back then. She did her best to arrange the flowers, she arranged the table, she helped him chose which food would his loved one would like, she helped him with his tux, and she helped him choose the ring he would give for her.
But all of this preparation was drastically reduced to nothing.
Apparently, his loved one decided to break it off with him. For an unknown reason too— a reason this man could not comprehend.
He was hurt— heartbroken even.
Strike one
She did her best to comfort him. Of course, he shrugged it off. He did not push her away, but he refused to let her in. It was alright for her. She knew he needed his space.
Then the alarm blared and his nemesis' face popped out of the screen. He was obviously not in the mood and was blinded in rage, which worked in favor of his nemesis. Knowing this, his nemesis taunted him, and tricked him, saying that he had implanted a nuclear bomb somewhere in the far eastern coast of the city, and he was ready to push the trigger— whenever he like.
They hurried towards the eastern coast, or rather, the park.
When they arrived there, they saw nothing— nothing but the still water in the lake, the trees sturdily intact in the earth, the bench quietly resting around. They were still alert and tried to find the said nuclear bomb. They dug the earth, they swam in the lake, and they flew into the air. Still, they found nothing. Even his nemesis was not even there.
A nearby school then blew up, killing hundreds of people.
The bomb was somewhere in the eastern coast, but never said it was in the park.
Strike two.
After that, they all tried to comfort him, especially her. But he would not listen, nothing had work. He had said nothing. Instead, he sulked and brood. And while he was silent about it, she had felt every single soul-destructive emotion known to mankind swirl into his being. Throughout the rest of the day, it faded or maybe subdue, but one remained. It was not even an emotion; it was a manifestation of those said emotions.
It sent a terrifying chill through her body.
Later that night, a friend of his called him. At first, she was against the idea of the call being answered, but they thought it might help him forget about the two severe events of the day.
Sadly, they were wrong.
His friend, a very special friend from his distant past called because someone close to him died that day and informed him to come there to visit, one last time. (1)
Strike three.
He was sent off the edge. He destroyed the room, the main computer and almost hurt one of their friends. She was relieved that she stopped him, and that her powers were still intact even if the building tension between them were off charts. He walked away from them, not saying a word. She followed him, wanting to reassure him, comfort him, anything to make him stay and to make the pain go away, but she was unsure of what to say, afraid that the words that would come out were wrong and would do worse. So, she just stood there as he gave her a look, growled and disappeared.
She remembered the look he gave her before disappearing that night. The look that up until now sent chill and fear up to her spines, the look that haunted her every single night. She could not figure out that look. She honestly did not want to know that look.
She was too afraid.
They did not saw him for a few weeks. This made them worry. They had known him to disappear for a night or two, but never this long. His former lover, caring as always, insisted that they find him immediately. His former lover said he could be hurt or already did something bad. They agreed, but she pointed out that he was strong enough not to do such thing. Moreover, she said that he needed time to heal and sort out his emotions. He will come back, she told them.
It reassured them, for a while, until he came back with a surprise.
It was raining when he came back, with a new name and his nemesis' army. Citizens were terrified as he marched down to the local government's hall. He declared he wanted order and so, he conquered the city he once lived in without a second thought, the city he once called his home. It turned out that he used his time alone to track down his nemesis and killed him, once and for all. They were dumbfounded. Who wouldn't? He is—was a man of law. He was the one who reinforced it and took on the thugs who tried to defy the law. Also, he was the one who solemnly promised never to cross the line— the line. And now, he was here, he was back, saying that he did what was right? By killing his nemesis? And taking over the city?
That did not sound like the man they knew.
They tried to stop him from the path he was taking. They all did, but he would not listen. All he cared was the "protection", "safety", and "what is best" for the city. He no longer had the heart to act within the law. And every day, fear grew, his empire grew, and so was his hunger for control. Cities were absorbed in his empire one by one, and heroes in those cities were defeated, mercilessly. Having no other choice, they called reinforcements around the world and built a resistance to fight him. They even collaborated with the villains they have fought to stop him but failed. One by one they were captured and given a choice— join and serve him or die at his hands, friendships mattered not.
Each of the first heroes and villains that were captured suffered at his hands. He tormented them, slowly, painfully that made them beg for an immediate death. He did not seem to listen and made them suffer more. He made his tortures more brutal; he brought each monstrous nightmare into life. He created machines that could have ripped them apart but did not, machines that has broken there bones, machines that was used to impale them, machines that was destroying them inside out and so much more. It was terrifying. it made the last minutes of their lives a living hell before they finally gave up and died a slow death.
They did not know what to do.
The remaining heroes and villains free from his reign went into hiding and devised multiple plans of his downfall, recruited other people, but no use. He seemed to revert back the plans they had for him, or he would likely be one step ahead of them. The people they recruited would back out before they could even step into the battlefield. Sometimes, when their recruit did step on the battlefield, they were captured and suffered the same fate the prisoners have gone through. They were losing hope, so she did something she regretted later on.
She reasoned him out, using their bond.
It was hard at first. Since the last time she used their bond was some time ago, but when she finally did, she reached out for him, asking— begging him to stop. Telling him that this was not supposed to happened because of just one bad day. She said that he was not supposed to be like— this; the villain, the man in power, the tyrant.
She felt him grin at her in their bond.
People like us either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain (2); he quoted, "and I guess, I fell in the latter." He added. He noted to her that it was better this way, to prevent others from getting hurt anymore, to build a world wherein there was no chaos, no threats, no criminals, only peace, order, discipline and people living in harmony.
"There is no harmony in what you are doing." She told him. "There is no peace in what you are doing now. If you want order then stop this madness right now!"
"There will be harmony." He snickered back. "All you have to do is to keep this bond working until my army reaches you."
He found them shortly after that and captured them all, leaving no one and nothing behind.
Once they arrived at his liar, they were barbarically treated.
He tortured them, just like the rest, but it was a lot more— demonic. All day, all night, they were tortured, one by one, two by two. Deciding he wanted to have more 'fun', he added more tortures for them. Ripping their fingernails, drowning them on water, choking them, forcing them to drink morbid drinks, causing immediate death to her other comrades.
It was truly the end for them.
He made her watched him kill her comrades one by one; He killed them in different ways, by his very hands or the use of his machines, snapping or twisting their necks, ripping their heart out, ripping them limb from limb, drilling through their chest, crushing them, drowning them in acid, burning them alive. It was painful to watch and she could not do anything about it. She could not do anything to stop the monster her friend had become.
Because it was her fault.
All. Her. Fault.
Everyone died, because of her careless action, because she acted without thinking the possible threat it might had brought to them and to her. Everyone, her comrades, her friends died, because of her one, stupid, careless action.
Now it was her time.
"I will spare you." He told her. "You, after all, helped me end the threat once and fall all. Besides— I will have use of you." Weak and in pain, she really did not know what he meant that time.
After that, he fed her, nursed her, and took care of her, like a man would do to his sick and frail mother. She thought he was changing for the better. She thought he was turning back to the man he once was— caring, loving, simple and full of morality and values.
Then, he violated her.
It was a very inhuman experience. He chained her to bed, groped, poked, sucked and bit her. As if he was an animal that hadn't had any meals for weeks. He was hungry of her and didn't even hold back as soon as he started to devour her petite form. She was desperate for him to stop that she did everything. Cried her heart out, begged— pleaded, but no avail. He seemed to like it, love it, and he was thirsty of it, of her. The cries, moans, stifled sobs and pleasures she gave him. He was insatiable of her that he wanted more every day.
He needed more every day.
And every day, she would cry. She would cry because this was not right, none of this was right! She would cry because he ripped her powers from her. She would cry because she was helpless and vulnerable. She would cry because she was all alone. She would cry because the fates decided to give her pain again, using the man she once called leader, bestfriend and secret love. She would cry because there was nothing she could do but wish she had done something on his one bad day to prevent this catastrophe.
She would cry because that was the only thing she can do.
At one time, he left her unattended. Thinking it was her only chance, she tried to escape. It was hard for her, since she was never the person who was trained to be an escape artist, but she has to try, for her sake. She snuck out of the room, hid from every robotic guard, tiptoed from hall to hall and tried her best not to bump into objects that might gave her position away.
She reached the back door.
She was relieved and happy. She could finally be free, be away from the monster keeping her in. All she has to do is to run for the door. She did run for it, opened it—
To find her nightmare menacingly staring back at her
"Didn't anyone tell you it's not safe to go out during this time of night?"
She took a brutal beating and violating at that very spot. She begged for his forgiveness but he didn't seem to listen and continue to beat and violate her. "You deserve this." He hissed. "You disobeyed me, and I'm not going to tolerate it." He added.
After that she didn't attempt to try another escape. She was in a havoc state of mind and she did not really care anymore. She did not care if he violated her once more. She did not care if he tortured her, violate her, made her his whore. She did not care if she dies now, if he planned to kill her now.
She did not care at all.
This game started a year after her first escape attempt.
It was his idea of thrill for the both of them. He added that she also needed physical exercise, and so he created this game— a game similar to hide and seek, with a few modifications. The rules were simple: run and hide, he will seek. Her main objective: hide long enough for her not be brutally hurt when he takes her.
It was so simple to say, so hard to do, especially if you're playing with him of all people.
Their first time was agonizing for her. It only took him a minute or two and he already found her. As a consequence, he takes her, violently that she bled badly and was not able to walk for days.
She improved on their following games. The second time, it took him ten minutes, then thirteen, then fifteen, then twenty, then twenty five, until she was capable of hiding from him for a full thirty minutes. She was very impressed and proud of herself at the same time.
Now her objective was to hide from him for an hour.
Hah. As if it was that easy.
She ran as fast as she could. Her eyes darting from corner to corner, looking for a spot she could hide. She turned left, no. She turned right, another hallway. She inwardly sighed as she ran across the hallway. She had been running for the past twenty minutes from her previous hiding place and she still had not found another place to hide. If she couldn't find any place to hide now, he was surely to find her anytime!
That was when she saw it, a table which clothing went down to the ground. She scurried towards it and hid underneath. She was careful enough not to leave any traces of movement. She fixed the carpet and the cloth and crawled towards the corner. Her knees curled up to her chest and she clamped her hand on her mouth, like she did always. She also steadied her breath. The man was known to have an ear of a bat. (3)
She stiffened when she heard a door opened. Her hands quivered and she tried her best from making any noise. She then saw his shadow being penetrated on the cloth by the moonlight. She can tell, using his shadow, that his back was facing her. She closed her eyes and prayed to whatever entity worth praying for that he would not turn around and look under the table. She opened her left eye and saw his still shadow. As it appeared to her, he seemed to be observing his surroundings and looking for any sign of her. She bit her lip when she saw his shadow turn and walked towards the table she was hiding in.
She buried her head on her hand when the shadow was merely a few feet away from where she was. Anytime now, he might have the instinct to look underneath and take her. She peeked from her hand and saw his shadow walking towards her. Not soon enough, his shadow was standing right in front of her, with an accurate measurement of two feet away. She bit her lip. This was it. He was going to have her again.
But instead of feeling his vice-like grip, she heard his footsteps, walking away from her. For confirmation, she lifted her head and saw his shadow, getting smaller with every step he take and then vanished into nothing.
She let out the breath she did not know she was holding and crawled to the other end of the table. But before she could move, a hand grabbed her angle and yanked her out of the table. Her eyes widen when he pinned her and when she saw him gazing at her in a heated manner. "You really thought I didn't know you were underneath the table?" His laughed echoed in the hall. "But no matter. You hid from me for forty-five minutes. I'm amazed. You're really getting good at this game. I might as well think of other ways to have our fun." He complimented and he removed the clothing that was hiding the skin he wanted to see. She whimpered underneath him and tried to struggle. "Ah, ah, ah Frumoasa mea regină (4). You know what happens when you struggle." He reminded her and she seemed to understand. She let him unclothe her and also helped him unclothe himself. "Now that's more like it." He said as he towered before her. He leaned into her ear and hotly whispered, "Don't worry, as promised, I'll be gentle. You have my word."
Her breath left her in a form of a hiss as he thrust into her. Like he promised, he was gentle, but that did not mean it would prevent her from feeling pain.
His motions were as fast as before, but not as rough, not as painful. She was very grateful for that. After all, he should lessen the pain he was giving her, since she already complied with his animalistic hunger every day.
A few minutes later, he pulled out with a groan of her name and came on her frail stomach. Their breathings were irregular and their skins were shining in sweat and tinted in pink made by the blood rushing in the veins. He ran a hand on his hair and took out a pill from his utility belt. She watched him anxiously as he held the pill just above her mouth. "Open up." She shook her head no and had the guts to glare at him.
The glare she got from him shook her to the core. She watched as he placed the pill inside his mouth. Suddenly, their lips were pressed violently, his fingers digging into her scalp painfully. She felt his tongue probe her mouth. She resisted, but the pain she was feeling on her scalp was unbearable. She gasped, and he did not waste any time. He pushed the pill into hers, using his tongue to make sure she swallow it. She realized it was a drug as her vision swirled. Her lips stopped working and she felt her eyes drop. Unconsciousness soon claimed her.
Robin, or as he like to be called now, Nightwing, pulled back and stared at Raven as she slowly lose consciousness. Once she did, he couldn't help but feel the guilt clawing him again.
How long has it been since he killed his nemesis? Since he claimed Jump City and the entire world? Since he killed his friends? Since he killed Robin? Since he hurt Raven? Five? Six years?
He was not sure. He had lost count.
And he really did not care.
He sighed and clothed himself. Once he was done, he clothed Raven and gathered her in his arms.
He stared at her porcelain, majestic face and could not help but feel sorry for causing pain—physically, mentally and emotionally. But what could he do? She did not seem to understand his actions. She did not seem to understand him anymore. She saw him as an insane, bloodthirsty and insatiable man who cared for nothing in this world, which hurt him more than anyone would ever know. But you know what?
He would not let her know that.
Him being hurt would be a weakness. And he refused to have a weakness anymore. Unlike that traffic light boy he once was—full of weakness and flaws. No. He could not be like that anymore. Because if he did, he wouldn't have control over people, he wouldn't have order over people.
And he would not have her.
Another reason why he kept on hurting her was because he knew it was the only way to have her by his side. From the very day he saw her he wanted her, he needed her, he loved her but he was a child full of fear that he acknowledged the media and led him to a bitch he and everyone thought he love.
He snickered, wondering what kind of mind he had before.
He was grateful for everything that had happened actually— the failed proposal, the death of hundreds of people and the death of his close friend. He realized if it were not for those events, he would not have been pushed over the edge, he would not be able to conquer his fears and he would not have stepped out of his comfort zone and brought about a wonderful era to this city.
Lastly, he would not have the power to claim the woman he loves.
He loves her. He really does. And he knew, somewhere deep in her, she loves him too, which made his heart glad. But then again, she would use this. Use her love to bring back that boy, that insolent, foolish boy full of fears, flaws and burdens. She would bring back the sanity that kept him on the box he used to be comfortable with. He could not have that because if she did that, all of this would be gone, turned into dust. This was why he wanted her to fear him rather than love him.
Besides, it was far, more, better to be feared than to be loved. (5)
He wanted nothing more than to have her ruling by his side. Using her powers to ensure the peace and control in this utopia he built. However, he knew she would never see things his point of view. This thing he was now was the very thing she had fought so hard against. He knew forcing her to join him might bring about an argument to could him to losing her, and he could not handle that.
Not anymore.
He settled her down to his bed, gently and slowly. He hovered above her, supporting himself with his arm and elbow. He took in her image bathed in moonlight— her purple hairs sprawled lusciously on the pillow, illuminated face, slightly pinkish lips and skin—
He lowered his head, letting his lips softly touch her swollen ones, giving her a ghostly kiss in the dead of the night.
He would be contented with this. He would be contented even if she saw him as a man of lunacy, if she saw him as a tyrant, monster— demon. He would be contented even if she hated him, if she despised him, as long as he would have her, he would be contented.
He was still sane after all.
Just not the sanest man anymore.
And it was all because of one bad day.
AN: I had no idea where this came from. One minute, I was just reading fanfiction, then I just found myself furiously typing this. Hmm. Oh well. This is a dark Robin fic. Not really my type of writing (thought I enjoy reading darkRob fics) and I dedicate this to psychic soul. One of the writers who stole my heart. :D hehe, I hope this fic is really worth reading! Read and review please?
1.) No, no, not the Batman.
2.) From Batman. I forgot where though.
3.) I chose Bat for an obvious reason :)
4.) Frumoasa mea regină – romani; my lovely queen
5.) Not mine. I got this from "Alice in Wonderland" movie, Queen of Hearts.
Disclaimer: The Teen Titans is a property of DC Comics and Warner Bros.
Read and Review? :)
EDITED 7/1/17