Heeelllooo there. I just want to apologize beforehand to any Black Butler/ Kuroshitsuji fans. I love both shows (comics and manga, too) and fandoms, but I really didn't really like the idea of having this story in crossovers, so there won't be any Black Butler characters. :( Sorry.

This story is rated T for vulgar language. Nothing else, really. There's no smut, or lemons... Not yet, at least. *fading cackle* Okay! Without further ado...

The deafening blasts could be heard from miles away.

Robin thought he'd known what pain felt like. After years of bitter hatred had coursed through his blood, he thought he'd recognize pain when he felt it. Pain was just that. Bitter and spiteful, burning of sin and rage. Hot, red, violent pain.

But that was not what he felt at that moment.

The pain he felt then could only be described as pure and utter darkness. Like someone had slowly cut the first layer of his skin off, and dipped his remains in ice water. The pain was not the fire of hell, but the shadows of that very same fire. It was not gut wrenching or sharp, but slow and dull. And the worst part about it all was, he had no clue where it came from.

Robin winced when the pain ebbed away, only to return even worse than before. With gritted teeth, he managed to pull himself up from the pavement, glancing around at the smoke and debris billowing around him.

His head was swimming, and his vision was beyond impaired at that point. The mask did him no justice, either. All he could see were blobs of brown and black. He knew that if he called out for the others, that would only grow worse. Instead, he pulled out a yellow communicator, gloved hands trembling as he dialed an all call.

"Head west," he gasped, wheezing for breath. His voice sounded so foreign and alien to him. Raspy and deep, clouded with pathetic hopelessness. And besides, he could barely hear himself anyway with all the ringing in his ears.

He heard a faint beeping noise, signaling that someone on the team had received the order. Good, that meant he wasn't as alone as he felt.

With that, he began to make his way toward the bridge, wincing every few steps from the oncoming pain. He tried his best to ignore it, and focused on the structure ahead. That was where the first blast had taken place, where the masked mercenary that haunted his dreams would be waiting. He growled just at the thought of him.

Robin had lost days- no, months- of sleep because of the villain. The cold, monotone voice that seemed to linger in the shadows of his room, twisting and turning, taunting him in his dreams. The one eyed mask that hid his true identity even more so than his own. It honestly infuriated him that some villain could be more secretive than a protege of the Dark Knight.

But he would have the last laugh today. He would be the one walking away. And the other would be the one behind bars.

Last time, the man had somehow managed to hack into Interpol's central system, releasing files on himself and plenty of other most wanted. Then, he'd shut the system down, wiping the files and replacing them with his following plans.

The man was going to destroy all of the major bridges in the world, effectively blocking the trade routes. What he didn't tell them, though, was what bridges he'd blow up, and when he'd do so. Of course, many cities were on edge, and had shut down their bridges, in fear of citizens being hurt. Robin personally thought that was an awfully thought out plan, because they were falling right into the man's trap.

Nobody really knew why the villain wanted to block the trade routes, or what he'd gain from it. But Robin could only assume that it would all be revealed tonight. Tonight. Tonight had been the first bridge to be destroyed. Of course, it had to be Jump City's. Home of the resident teen superhero and his team.

He had alerted all other major cities as quick as possible, and sent out a distress signal to all other known superhero teams. That had been a disaster in its own.

For some odd reason, the masked mercenary just loved to taunt Robin. It was all just a game to him. He loved getting a rise out of the boy wonder, and he somehow always did. He knew just how to push Robin's buttons, which drove him near the brink of insanity.

As he neared the bridge, he passed the Tower as well. He stopped for a second, just to admire and appreciate the building. The glass windows gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting murky black waters and a dusty sky. The Tower was close to the bridge. Close enough that they could see it from their living room. And that alone worried Robin enough.

His thoughts were interrupted when another deafening blast was set off a half mile away, and he had to shield himself with his arm to avoid being bombarded with debris.

His senses had left him completely. He faintly heard the villain's voice in the distance before his knees gave out and he crumbled to the ground. He could only see stars, faint bright stars, and he could barely feel the warm liquid that trickled out of his nose and ears, staining his uniform and face.

He felt like he'd been floating on the rivers of hell, only to be plunged into the waters, drowned and suffocated until he was unconscious. And when he finally gained consciousness, it would all be repeated again. Like an endless drill...

Robin thought he had known pain.

He was terribly wrong.

He manage to blindly fumble for his communicator, dialing another all call. With a barely audible voice, he gasped,

"Retreat."

This time, nobody answered.

"Dammit! Don't you get it?!" Robin yelled, slamming both fists on the bar, startling Jinx, the bartender. "They're gone!"

Rage fueled his veins, frustration pent up inside him. He wanted to break something so badly, maybe a vase or a cup- even better, he wanted to sock someone. Now, he was never one to connect violence with anger, but all sanity and morals were flushed down the drain when that man was concerned.

This time, he had pushed Robin too far, though. He had crossed the line.

Jinx simply rolled her eyes at his brash behavior, sliding a glass of his usual scotch over the table. The hero snatched it as soon as it was set on the bar, chugging the liquid rapidly in frustration. This was a normal routine for both of them.

Robin would lose his cool, whether it be over some stupid argument in the Tower, or another petty criminal, and he'd head over to her bar to complain about it and get drunk together. Most of the time a couple scotches and gin and tonic did the trick. But even drunk, he was always irritatingly vague about his problems, never seeming to get to the point until he finished the entire story.

"Does that man still get to you after all these years?" she asked, cleaning one of the margarita glasses from a previous customer. Knowing Robin, he probably had some delightfully long rant planned for her, and she was more than ready to hear it.

The hero scoffed, staring down at the beverage in rage behind a pair of (she could only assume) very expensive, designer sunglasses.

"Jinx, shut the fuck up."

Her eyes widened at his sudden outburst.

He'd known Jinx for a couple of years now, and was well aware that despite her expression, she knew exactly what that answer meant. It was his 'I'm a pissy prick right now, so don't make this harder than it already is' answer. Classically used whenever the subject at hand involved Slade.

Her bar, Thirteenth, was frequently visited by his team, especially himself. Robin always enjoyed a good glass of scotch whenever he was in one of his moods. Or if he just simply wanted to rant to her.

Like just then, he always came in the wee hours of the morning, normally around 2 am, when it was nobody but him and Jinx. She was much less flamboyant than the rest of her team, and her snarky attitude made for good conversations.

The other Titans usually came separately as well, only ever visiting together when they were up for celebratory alcohol. Beastboy came when he wanted a quick hook up or one night stand. Always ordered beer, like all other underaged clubbers. Jinx told him the foul beverage tasted like horse piss, but he only replied that, from personal experience, horse piss wasn't actually that unappetizing.

Starfire came to 'understand earthly customs', but from what Jinx could tell, she just wanted to let loose and have fun like any other teenager. She seemed to enjoy strong Palinka and absinthe, a strange combination that often left her making regrettable decisions.

Cy visited the least often, and when he did, it was always with Bumblebee, as an easy date site. They only had wine together, claiming that it was the 'adult' drink to have.

Of course, they were all still underage, the youngest being seventeen and the eldest being twenty. But nobody at the bar really cared, and besides, Robin knew she would let it slide for a couple of old friends.

"Robin," she sighed, chin rested on her hands as she gazed at him, "could you please stop being a whiny bitch and just tell me what happened?"

"You know what," he muttered, trying desperately to change the subject, "it doesn't matter." His voice was beginning to crack at the thought, and he felt the same misery begin to overcome him, before he shoved it right back down. If she found out, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself. And he knew she'd become increasingly bothersome as well. That would only add another problem to his endless list.

The sorceress only scoffed.

"Clearly it is, since you're so worked up about it," she retaliated. "So just make this easier for both of us, and spill. If you don't wanna talk about it now, I'm sure a few tequila shots will help persuade."

He pursed his lips, grumbling a few incoherent words. He was in no mood for story time featuring Jinx, so this'd better be quick.

"What was that?" she pressed, eyebrow raised in mockery. Oh he was being played, he knew it. He could see it in her eyes. With gritted teeth, he stared her down, eyes never wavering.

Fine. If she wanted to know so badly, so be it. His pride was already ground to fine dust anyway.

"It's over. Slade's gone."

Jinx's grip slipped a little on the glass, eyes darting up to look at him incredulously. Can't say I didn't warn you, he thought while looking at her flabbergasted expression. She gaped at him, hands resting sassily on her hips.

"What the hell?" she nearly screamed, grabbing the scotch from him and raising it high in the air. "Then why are you still so fucking pissy?" The boy wonder only scowled, before simply plucking the drink out of her hands with ease.

"You have a foul mouth, Jinx," he scolded, downing the rest of the beverage in one harsh gulp. if there was anything he hated more than criminals (and Romcoms) it was unnecessary cursing. Especially on a lady. It seemed undignified and hypocritical of him, but he was no gentleman (not with her, at least) so it didn't really matter. He cast her a look, handing her the empty glass. "But if you must know, he's gone. Not the way I wanted him to be, though." The witch gestured for him to continue, lips pursed as she assessed the story.

"He set off a dupe bomb to lure us out. Of course, it worked," he huffed, clutching the newly refilled glass of scotch. "Then, once the team was out, he set off another fake along with a few smoke bombs, just to separate us from one another so he could finish us off one by one." Jinx snorted lightly, sipping her own gin and tonic.

"Honestly, Robin, I would've thought you of all people would be smart enough to not split up when psychopaths were involved."

"We didn't split up," the hero replied defensively, frowning at the accusation, "he set off smoke bombs which blinded us, and the sheer force of the fake was enough to deafen us. Or me, at least."

Jinx ignored his excuse, swallowing her drink in dangerous amounts, sunset colored eyes trained on him.

"Then, he managed to use my ego as bait," Robin continued, shaking his head in shame. He hated to admit it, but he had a huge ego. Jinx claimed it was even bigger than his head. But, right now, he needed to admit it. For them.

At that, the sorceress burst out in laughter, hand slapping the table in humor. She muttered something about classic stubborn assholes, before Robin shot her a look that shut her up.

"Anyway," he emphasized, clearing his throat, though voice still low, "his bloody smoke bombs had caused enough damage to us to deprive all of our senses, and we can't really fight half blind. So of course, I told the team to keep heading west, just to see what he was up to."

"'Cause that's a wonderful idea, Boy Wonder," she sneered, "you know Slade always has some trick-"

"Shut your trap and let me finish my story," Robin snapped, glaring daggers at the witch. If he'd known she was going to be such a smart ass about it, he would've gone and bitched about it to Jason. Video calls with him were always interesting.

Jinx raised her hands in defense and pursed her lips. He sighed, before continuing, his voice taking on a rather melancholy lilt.

"I was about half a mile to the bridge, and nearly passed the Tower. Then, out of nowhere, boom. He drops a real one."

The witch was silent as she watched the unusually hopeless boy before her crumble into shards of what he used to be.

"Basically, I was on my knees, barely breathing and six feet under already. And to add fuel to the fire, he sends me a real one. He had set it off close to the bridge, but not on it, thank god. It had been activated on the northern side of the pier, which was absolute chaos," Robin pinched his nose at the memory of clearing the citizens out all by himself, despite being half blind, half deaf, and completely incoherent. "There were people screaming, police yelling, and children dying. All because this man decided to play a quick trick before the real games began."

"But you know what the cherry on top was?" he hissed through gritted teeth, throwing the glass down in anger, nearly shattering it as scotch sloshed out of the edges (much to Jinx's annoyance). "It wasn't legit."

"What do you mean?" the witch scoffed, nearly at her wits end with Robin's cryptic story-telling.

"It wasn't a literal attack. He had done it just for the heck of it! The real attack had been in Blüdhaven, just seconds after the dupes had gone off in our city. Of course, we weren't alerted about it because our only superhero team was out fighting for entertainment!" he screamed, "Ugh! The nerve of that bastard!"

He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache assaulting him just remembering Slade's abrupt departure and sadistic way of amusement. He had blown up the entire northern side of the pier, just to irk Robin's nerves. There was no prize, nothing to win. Nope, he just did it simply because he wanted to. This was not some sort of game to him. But for some enraging reason, the mercenary always seemed to treat it like one.

He watched as Jinx cocked her head in inquiry. Slade was never one to leave a fight first. Especially not from Robin. The man was equally obsessed with Robin as the hero was with him. If Jinx didn't know any better, she would've seen them as an kinky, obsessive homosexual couple (1).

"But that's not why you're upset."

The boy wonder's shoulders tensed, and it took every ounce of his strength not to break down right then and there.

"I'm tired, Jinx," he spoke, voice hoarse, "I'm tired of fighting someone who sees me as a joke, and my time as a game. I don't wanna play anymore games. I just want my team back."

He felt her eyes on him, calculating and thinking. He must've seemed like such a wussy then and there. Moping and whining. Yet, he knew she understood his pain. His only family and friends had been swiped away right under his nose. And for no apparent reason.

"So really, it's not over," she said bluntly, completely overstepping the whole sentimental part of this whole conversation.

"Obviously!" he bellowed, finally feeling hot tears slip out of his eyes, "If it was over, that bastard would be in Arkham right now, hopefully in the highest security cell possible, right next to the Joker and Harley, and I would be in the Tower with my team!"

Once he finished, he dug his palms into his eyes, flushing at the fact that a girl-and Jinx, of all girls- had seen him cry.

"How do you know they aren't dead?" she asked, trying her best to ignore the hero's slight sniffles and red face.

The sniffles stopped. Robin paused, gazing at Jinx emptily.

"There were no bodies."

He watched as she froze, inhaling sharply.

Robin knew he was was a bitter, vengeful person. He hated losing in any fashion and would kill to be on top- literally. He needed to win, whether it be because of a personal issue, or just for the heck of it, he had to win. It was something buried deep inside of him, a sad kind of pride that he would unfortunately never let go of.

And Slade just egged him on. Because he was an enigma that Robin couldn't solve. And since he couldn't solve him, he couldn't win, either. Slade startled Robin, which was odd because he was never startled by anything. He'd never met a psychopath quite like him.

He took absolutely nothing Robin did seriously, no matter how level-headed the boy seemed to act. He saw the Titans as a nuisance to his plans, a few wannabe Justice Leaguers with a color blind leader.

The Joker was the only other person that scared him more than Slade, though he'd never admit aloud that either of them fazed him. The only difference between Slade and the Joker was that Slade took everyone but Robin seriously. And the Joker? Well, he took nobody seriously. Not even his mentor. He cringed at the memories fighting the deranged man back in Gotham. Insane people were all the more dangerous because they were unpredictable. And he hated unpredictable.

But this. This was unlike anything any villain had ever done to him. He'd never had a villain make him feel so small and vulnerable. Absolutely helpless.

No villain in history had ever broken the team up. Not like this.

Nobody had ever dared to dangle the lives of his teammate's in front of his face, threatening to tip them over to the other side with just one wrong move. Nobody had ever stolen his family, leaving no traces behind.

Robin shuddered at the memory.

When the debris had cleared, his head was still in the same state. The pounding of his skull had faded into a full throb, and the aching in his limbs had completely vanished. Still barely conscious, he somehow pulled himself to his feet once more, glancing around for signs of the other Titans. But all he got were howling winds and screaming citizens.

No bright green star bolts.

No emerald fur.

No lightning blue sonic canon.

No Titans.

He was, this time truly, alone.

With a heaving sigh, he buried his face into his elbow, deciding that this was the best time for a pity party. He'd let his steam all out, and now was the time to feel sorry for himself. He just wanted a break from everything. Live a normal life once.

"What if I told you I could help you."

"With what?" he murmured, voice muffled since his head was hidden in the crook of his arm. He was in no mood for small talk and business deals right now.

"Defeating Slade and getting your team back."

He only chuckled darkly, head still hidden in the crook of his arm. No doubt he didn't take her offer seriously.

Help him? What could she possibly do to help him? No normal mortal being could help him defeat Slade. It was impossible. If his team of highly trained meta humans couldn't escape the clutches of the madman, what could a simple witch like her do? Yet, anything that could remotely help him at all was extremely appealing. He wanted to ask her all these things, but couldn't find the words to do so. Instead, he lightly tilted his head up to gaze at her, and asked,

"How?"

She shrugged, placing the empty glass of gin besides her, fingers lacing allowing her chin to rest upon. He took the moment to finish his scotch, worrying that it would soon go to waste if he didn't. Jinx proceeded to look at him with a dry expression, and spoke the words that chilled him to the bone.

"I could summon a demon for you."

He nearly choked on his drink. Was she insane? He decided so when her face remained unfazed by her own answer. He certainly had not been expecting that. Robin didn't know too much about the paranormal world or the beings of the underworld, surely not as much as Jinx, but he was pretty sure that fiends weren't beings to play around with. And how could a demon help anyone?

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, staring her right in the eyes as she shook her head.

"Nope."

"Isn't that, you know, dangerous?"

"Well, no. Not on my part, at least," she sucked in a breath. Jinx rapped her knuckles against the table in hesitation. She exhaled, not daring to look him in the eyes. Robin urged her to explain, growing increasingly agitated and impatient. Besides, he was extremely curious as to how a being of evil could help a good doer like himself.

"Here is how it works," Jinx started, tipping her glass from side to side, "I'll summon the demon, since you possess no mythical abilities of any sort."

He scowled at the jab. It was a low blow, even if a tease. It wasn't exactly pleasant to be constantly reminded of being simply human while leading a team of super humans. If the witch realized it, she certainly did nothing about it.

"But you will be the one in the contract."

He arched an eyebrow at her vagueness.

"Contract?"

"Faustian Contract."

His eyes widened. Faustian Contract? He'd only ever heard of those in folklore and books. But knowing Jinx was a witch, folklore was probably not far from the truth. He didn't know too much about it, but he knew it was also known as-

"A Deal with the Devil?"

"Precisely."

He sputtered, trying to form an answer. This was such a bad idea on so many different levels. Bargaining of any sort with anyone wasn't a completely safe road to take, so one with the devil was surely to lead to utter disaster.

"And?"

"Well, basically, this demon will fulfill whatever wish you want it to. Whether you want fame, money, power, or in your case, revenge and your team, they would have to help you achieve it."

Robin swallowed nervously. To say he was skeptical was the understatement of the century. It sounded too good to be true. No way would a monster simply do what he asked just because they were invited via spell casting by some random witch. There had to be some sort of reward for them. A reward he probably had to provide. And he didn't know of possessing anything a demon might have interest in.

Agreeing to it would mean contact with the demon, which scared the living day lights out of him just by thinking about it. He'd never personally encountered any beings of Hell, but if they were anywhere near as scary as the psychos in Gotham (and Slade) he was doomed.

But at the same time, he wanted so badly to crush Slade to bits for humiliating him. The offer seemed almost too tempting.

"What's the catch?"

Jinx hesitated, which made Robin increasingly uneasy about even asking in the first place. He hummed in anticipation, and was rewarded with a less than favorable answer.

"It gets to eat your soul."

A/N

(1) C'mon, don't tell me you never thought of it.

Until next time,

Yellerumbrellas