A/N: Ok this is a fic to indulge my Slasher self. My friend Caitlyn showed me the glory of all things Slash, Yaohi and henti. Sorry if I spelled them wrong I ain't Japanese. Anyway this is my first hard core slash so enjoy!

Edit Jan. 26th 2017

It's the smell of damp yet floral earth and the caress of humidity on his skin that wakes his mind first. Something about the two together stir a foggy memory long since past. A performance inside a large circus tent, somewhere on foreign soil, the first time he had ever left the states; he had been five years old and he had been terrified.

Yet now, so many years later it isn't the terror that brings him to his senses, that pulls him from the pitch black hole of unconsciousness, but the voice.

"Wake up little Robin." A familier voice that rises from below the surface of his inky tomb and wraps around his mind like a heavy cloak. His first thought is Mother though he instantly admits thats not right- father comes next but his mind rejects that too. He can't place the voice and it leaves an ach of curiosity and frustration in its wake. Even when his eyes flutter open, the fact that he sees a smeared pallet of orange and black doesnt fully register, he still isn't fully aware.

He closes his eyes again in order to chase away the fuzz or to try and stop the spinning, perhaps he isn't really sure which, what is more important? Equilibrium or sight? Yet, those ancient smells that bring old memories and the voice that should scare him but doesnt continue to pull him from his haze and soon enough his vision clears and he hears the soft, comforting purr again, "Come on little bird, it's time to get up."

He dares to open his eyes again, silently bidding the world to stop its spinning and remain solid and still. This time he sees the face clearly, or no, he sees the mask clearly.

His mind finally catches up with his eyes and ears and teen jerks up to a sitting position. Before him, crouched in a tree's bow-shaped trunk is Slade. The boy, his uniform tattered and his head aching like nothing he has ever known, looks like he is in a nightmare, one that he can't wake up from.

"Good morning Robin." says that dark, low silky voice. Blinking several times as if to make sure Slade is really there the boy ignores the greeting and stands up on wobbly legs.

"S-Slade, w-" he pauses to swallow and sooth his dry burning throat, he feels like he has been beaten and drugged. Knowing the man before him as he does the possibility is a distinct one.

"What have you- where am I! Why are you- when did you come back?" A shaky hand reaches out for something, anything, to steady himself. His other hand, devoid of its characteristic green glove comes to rest on his forehead. He can't think straight, can't form coherent thoughts or sentences. It's all coming to him at once and spilling from his mouth like sand through a sive.

Steady Robin, breath and remain calm- panicking will only cause more problems and right now you can't afford anymore.

Slade doesn't move, it unnerves the boy. "Easy now. You took quite a knock to the head. You may have a concussion, possibly a broken rib." His voice remains smooth but a buttery smugness resonates across the space and sinks into the boy's gut.

Robin reaches for his belt and is shocked to grasp air, he looks down as he hears Slade's mocking words, "Tut tut Robin. Loosing your belt? Thats very irresponsible of you."

Robin grits his teeth and growls, "What do you want!" The sheer force of his yell causes another ripple of disorientation to flood him and he grips at his head again.

Calm down Robin, possible concussion remember? Don't yell...just talk...for now.

"Temper Robin." Slade admonishes as if to a young child, he tilts his head and brings steepled fingers to the slits of his mask as he gives a thoughtful incline of his head, "I am not in the mood for your attitude right now, your disorientation aside, its time to get down to buisness, and the attitude won't help you in trials that are to come. The tone of warning in Slade voice is enough to grab Robins attention as a palpable anxiety consumes his chest and twists at his belly. Glaring defiantly at the only man who scares him he charges, a yell ripping from his throat in frustration. He's letting his anger, confusion and fear lead him head on into battle, a battle he is not ready for.

Robin throws a punch at Slade, who in turn jumps up lazily, flipping over the stumbling teen with ease before his gloved hand shoves Robin hard from behind. Having bad balance from a supposed concussion to begin with and missing his utility belt Robin is already zero for two, the roots and stones jutting from the muddy and craggy ground don't help either and because of the force of Slade's push Robin flies forward and his forehead smashes with a thud into the bow of the tree where Slade had just been crouching.

The dull throbbing ach from before is now ear splitting and Robin cant help crying out in honest pain. Shaking fingers dig into his scalp and cover his eyes desperatly trying to shake the sudden onslaught of pain. Unable to regain his footing Robin stumbles sideways and falls to the ground. His world is spinning and for a second the pain and disorientation won't allow him breath. A wave of sick hits him and despite the ringing in his ears and the pain erupting like lava in his head he finds himself emptying his stomach onto the ground.

Through it all he tries to force his mind and emotions to remain calm and eventually he manages to slowly take deep even breaths.

"What is this about Slade?" he asks again, this time calmly, softly as he keeps his eyes shut and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

For a long time there is no response and when Robin feels like he can move his head with out it exploding he glances in the general direction of the man who is standing only a few feet away. Slade hovers there, watching.

Waiting.

For what, what are you waiting for. I am about as weak now as I have ever been... why isn't he attacking?

Finally Slade must notice that Robin has found some semblence of calm because he speaks, and there is a fondness in his voice that makes Robin's skin crawl.

"It's nice to know you still hold such strong feelings for me. It will make this game so much more...interesting."

Robin gives him a look of distaste and asks, though he really doesn't want to, "What game? What ever it is you are planning Slade I am ready. A lot has changed since Trigon." He spits out the demands name like a bad price of meat. He tries to look intimidating but unbidden from him he is hit with a wave of fatigue and he can only muster a small sneer.

Slade takes a few steps to the left and circles the boy halfway, "Indeed Robin, a lot HAS changed." He comes up behind Robin who turns but still does not risk standing, he isn't sure he could get halfway up let alone take a fighting stance.

"In fact, you could say that enough has changed to the point that I don't wish to fight you anymore."

A familiar look of confusion and disbelief covers the young teen's face. "What?" he asks with a disbelieving tone seizing his voice.

"In case you haven't already noticed you are surrounded by jungle. And we are quite alone. It is just you and I out here, hundreds of thousands of miles away from anyone or anything. No cars or phones or monitoring systems...no friends." Slade purrs the last part as if he savour the idea, he has turned around now and is looking away from Robin, out over the distant horizon, hands gripped firmly behind his back.

Robin is still confused, slightly dazed but he looks around his surrounding more thuroughly now and realizes Slade wasn't lying. The jungle is thick, the air hot and not a single indication that there is a city, town or village for miles. A growl of utter fury rumbles from his chest, despite that his head acts in protest at the strangled noise, "Why! Why would you do this! What game do you think we will-"

"I brought you out here so we can play a the game. The game, just the two of us. No titans, no robots and no little red buttons."

Robin's eyes narrow as he launches himself deeper into the conversation, hoping that Slade is bluffing and that soon his team will burst through the trees and get him the hell out of here. Until the calvary arrives, however, he needs to keep Slade talking. He is in no position to fight right now, he has to try and buy time, "What is the point of this game?"

Slade turns to him, having walked quite a ways off, slowly he comes back with an absent-minded strut to his step, his eye boring into the younger man and his head cocking to the left. Robin, who has taken this time to experiment with his legs and try to stand, gives an inner cheer of relief when his legs hold him.

At the realization that Slade has gained ground Robin backs away slowly. He feels the jungle behind him; to thick to run for it and he is in no condition to stand and fight.

He's effectively trapped without any ropes or chains and he can't keep his masked eyes from growing wide as Slade comes to stand only feet from him, leaning forward so they are eye to eye.

"This game is simple. You run and I chase, if I catch you, I get to keep you. In essence you become- how to say this gently- my trophy."

Robin cant stop the shock on his face, he can't stop the parting of his lips or the ways his hands since ply drop like lead to his sides. In the end all he can try it do is muster up a look of disgust and sneer at him with suddenly sharp eyes, "What makes you think I am going to agree to this? There is no upside for me, in fact it doesn't look like I benefit at all."

Slade, with out a moments notice spins quickly and kicks Robin through the trees, the boy lands painfully in a pool of water that was deep enough to sit halfway up his chest, but not near sufficient to keep his arms from scratching against the jagged rocks that lay just below the surface.

Slade crashes through after him but before Robin can make any attempt to spring away he feels a pair of powerful hands grab him and yank him up to look at Slade's cold and apparently furious eye.

Robin's gasping loudly, water running off him and his body now shaking from the chill and shock to his system. He's looking into that lone eye, his own no longer hiding his utter anxiety and fear despite his mask remaining in place. The silence between them as they continue to gaze at each other, the elder man still and strong, the younger near panic and halfway broken, is deafening.

Robin sees the singular eye narrow and he can see the anger that's laid bare in it, his hands instantly clamp onto Slade's fists which have been fisting the front of his tunic and dangling him like a worm above the pond.

Ripping at the boy's tunic and pulling off his boots and cape Slade leans in and in a hushed whisper says into the boy's ear, "Who ever said I was doing this to benefit you? This game is to amuse me and me alone. If you don't run then it makes it easy on me. Less work, but I promise you, you won't like what being my trophy does to the body. It would benefit you to not get caught, less you wish to suffer my wrath." Slade has been holding Robin by his neck since his senseless assault on the boys uniform, the pool of water finally falling still aside from the rippling drops kerplunking off Robin in droves.

Slade throws the now mostly naked Robin onto the jungles damp floor. "You will run or you will suffer..." Robin looks to Slade and realizes the man still has HIS belt, while Robin has nothing. He has no choice, since he can't currently hold his own to fight, he has to run. Robin, with out another word jets into the jungle leaving Slade standing in the pool of water holding the boy's tunic, cape and boots before letting them slide from his grip and tumble into the water.

The game has begun.