"What is this?"
The man held up a thin, black item and after a moment, placed it on the table. He waited for the other figure standing in the dark room to react.
After several moments, a new voice, belonging to a young male spoke, hesitation clear in his voice.
"It's a .44 Magnum Revolver."
The quiet sound echoed throughout the small room, vibrating around the many pipes that lined the steel walls. Neither of the figures moved until the sound completely dissipated.
Then the first voice spoke once more.
"How many rounds can it fire per minute?"
The boy answered slowly, and the questioning continued, the pace increasing rapidly, until the man was assured of the boy's knowledge.
"Excellent job."
The boy looked up, equally startled and relieved by the man's praise. The next words, however, jolted him out of his short reprieve.
"Pick it up."
He stared at the masked man, confusion and disbelief written on his face. They had done this exercise many times before, where he had been thoroughly quizzed on a random weapon, but never before had he been made to actually touch anything, let alone pick them up.
"What?"
He gave a loud gasp of pain as the man backhanded him sharply in the face.
"Pick it up Robin." Slade's voice suddenly gained a deadly edge as he glared through the mask. "Now."
Robin could only gape at his enemy in shock. He had sworn never to use a gun under the guidance of his mentor, something that Slade definitely knew. There was no way he was going to break that promise.
Guns created murderers, and Robin was not a killer. There was nothing that could make him touch the weapon.
"Robin." Slade saw the act of defiance and glared, highly annoyed by his apprentice's disobedience. He reached for something in one of the pockets of his uniform and placed it on the table, keeping one hand planted on it firmly.
Robin froze, recognizing the controller that could activate the probes inside of his friends, the despicable thing that could destroy the people he cared about most with the push of a button.
There was nothing more important to him than his friends.
He bit his lip and slowly began to reach for the gun. His fingers practically brushed the barrel when his hand jerked to a stop and his hand tightened into a fist.
"No."
At first, it came out as a mere whisper, no more than a desperate thought, but once he spoke the words, he grew confident.
"No!"He repeated the words, relishing in his first real act of independence in the long months of his captivity.
Slade's eyes narrowed, and the temperature of the room plummeted. He held up his closed hand, moving his thumb so that it rested on the top of the controller, directly over the red button.
"What was that?"
Two months ago, Robin would have been terrified. The first hint of the mercenary's anger would have made him all but beg for forgiveness. No more.
"I said no." Eyes locked with Slade's, his arm swept across the table, knocking the revolver off in one swift motion. The gun clattered to the floor, each sound pounding in the teen's ear.
Instantly, Slade had him by the throat and lifted him into the air. "You have three seconds to pick up the gun, or your friends die."
He dropped him to the ground, watching as the boy wonder gasped for air, and held up three fingers, confident that he had won.
Instead of reaching for the weapon, Robin's eyes widened with a sudden, startling realization. He stood, and facing the wall, he chuckled darkly.
"Don't bother pretending. We both know you won't do it."
Slade's voice, calm and collected as ever, answered, "On the contrary, Robin. I will. You have one second to pick it up."
Not fazed in the least, Robin finally turned around. "Oh, sure. You'll push the button. Maybe you'll let them scream for a few minutes. But you won't kill them."
"Is that so? And why is that?" Slade was interested in hearing the boy's misguided thoughts. Perhaps it would allow the child a false sense of security to feel as though he held some power.
"It's really simple. The only reason I'm here is to save my friends. If you kill them, you have nothing to keep me here."
Unimpressed, Slade growled back, glaring at him from across the table, "I can and will force you to stay. In fact, it wouldn't even be a challenge."
Robin nodded, immersed in his train of thought. "True, but then you would have to ensure that I stay away from all weapons, because without anything to live for, I will kill myself. Then, not only would you lose your apprentice, but you would have wasted valuable time, energy and resources that can never be regained."
Suddenly feeling the need to annoy Slade even more, he gestured to his uniform.
"Not to mention the cost of dry cleaning."
Slade, for once, was at a loss for words. He was completely and utterly stunned by the sudden outburst and furious in more ways than one.
Seeing that Slade was not about to respond, the boy wonder continued, his thoughts expanding with each word.
"In fact, the only way you control me is through threatening to kill my friends, but in reality, you really have no power over me. If you do kill my friends, and manage to keep me here, there's no way I would cooperate with even the smallest task, which would defeat the purpose of you even having an apprentice. If I were to leave right now, you couldn't even do anything about it because catching me would ultimately lead to my suicide, and if you do activate the probes before I can get them out of my friends, then you would lose all chances of ever getting me back as your apprentice in the future."
Robin shook his head back and forth, a grin barely concealed on his face.
"You know, you really didn't think this over too well. Right now, your best bet is to just let me leave so that you can come up with a new scheme for blackmailing me. See you later."
He walked confidently towards the door and Slade was so stunned, he made no effort to stop him.
As the door to the aunt slammed shut, Slade tried to wrap his head around the situation. Everything had been going so well, the boy had done everything he said without question.
How, in the span of forty-five seconds, did years of planning collapse? Hadn't he had used that same blackmailing technique on thousands of others without fail?
Less than half an hour later, the large panels on the screen started beeping as the probes were removed from the bodies of the four titans and a message popped up on the main monitor.
Slade's furious scream was followed by the sound of shattering glass as his fist plunged through the neon, flashing bat symbol.