Chapter 2: Breaking the Ice
Reach Base 13A
18 September 2017 [0545 hours]
It seemed but a mere moment after he had closed his eyes that Tim was awakened by a familiar deep voice latching onto his neck and dragging him out of a silent slumber. Tim, most reluctantly, lifted his heavy eyelids to an expressionless alien standing, yet again, at the foot of his bed.
Any hope that the past encounter with Caralack was a mere nightmare disappeared instantly.
"In Earthling time, it is a quarter before six in the morning. Training shall begin at six o'clock sharp. You will notice that appropriate attire is provided," at this, he broke his frozen stance to gesture towards the tall, gray capsule connected to the wall that Tim had noticed earlier.
Tim didn't respond, or even consider the fact that he may have been expected to. Either way, though, the alien continued in his monotonous speech.
"You may have taken notice that your condition has significantly improved, Subject 1-02."
Robin's eyes flickered to his legs, where just yesterday there had been large patches of irritated red burns and several serious gashes. Caralack was right; his injuries had healed. He was in awe of the restoration of his arm, once broken, now fully mended.
He also noticed, after a moment or two of examining his condition that the ropes had vanished from his wrists. They were replaced by two metal bracelets with six small silver squares encircling each cuff.
"Ahh, the bracelets," resumed Caralack, "They have a duo purpose. They can attract," Suddenly, Tim's arm's swung together, sticking at the wrists like magnets, "and retract," The metal bracelets unlinked and Tim's hands fell apart, "for multiple purposes." He turned and walked towards the door.
It was horribly unwise for Caralack to turn his back on the Boy Wonder.
Tim, taking advantage of this spontaneous opportunity without restraints, sprung on the alien. Caralack, though, had transpired to be anything but a stupid alien—no, Caralack was in fact a very clever alien.
Searing pain encased Robin's form and he crippled to the floor in agony. Electrical pulses surged endlessly from the metal cuffs on his wrists so that his hands could not claw at the origin of the torture, but merely lay limp on the floor, unable to even make an attempt at suppressing the horrid pain.
"You have discovered the second purpose." Caralack's voice pulsed in his ear as the alien left the room. "I will be waiting outside to escort you to your next destination. You have ten minutes to change clothing Subject 1-02."
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Reach Base 13A
18 September 2017 [0551 hours]
It took a good several minutes for Tim to finally stir. It seemed he was completely content staring at the bright glow of the red ceiling counting the stars swirling around the room. Nevertheless, it would only be a few more moments before Caralack would enter the room, promptly notice his presence on the ground, and most likely send another thousand watts of electricity through his spine. Therefore, with much reluctance, he dragged himself off of the floor and over to the grey capsule. Quickly noticing a small button in the center, Tim opened the compartment.
Inside was a simple pair of black pants, much like his own, a grey t-shirt, and black boots. Tim, of course, would also wear his mask that was still placed over his eyes. It was critical that his identity remain secret. Though, if the Reach really had taken over, there wasn't much danger in secret identities anymore.
There must not have not been much time left after he had changed and opened the door to exit the room, as Caralack immediately started moving.
Tim was forced to follow when two REACH agents urged him forward on either side and another agent trailed him from behind. He was ready to elbow one in the gut before Caralack interrupted.
"Do not fight them, earthling. You will only inflict further damage upon yourself."
Tim silently agreed with this statement (as he was weakened, weaponless, and outnumbered) and began to walk behind Caralack as a chance to scope out the building for an escape route.
The boots were much too big, he noticed almost instantly. Every time he would take a step forward, the heel of the shoe would gradually slip off his ankle and return to its original position when the floor would come into contact.
The aggravation of this conflict subsiding, his attention was averted to other subjects. For instance, there was an unfamiliar alien walking in perfect coordination beside Caralack. Besides being slightly shorter and skinnier (and by, of course, Tim's limited view, as he was walking a foot or two behind the two aliens), he could have been Caralack's twin.
'Must be the new intern,' thought Tim.
They turned a sharp corner leading into a thinner hallway. Before Tim could examine the strange tiling siding the walls, the two aliens turned once again and stopped at the end of the hallway. Caralack pressed his long finger unto a small button, and almost instantly the doors swung open.
No words were spoken. Caralack continued walking into the room.
Maybe it was the dark grey walls closing them in, or maybe it was the faint sound of screaming that reverberated in Robin's ears, but something made the room a musty, dark one. As he passed by, Tim noticed the rectangular rooms branching off the main route in the large "Training Quarters," as he had read off the door just before they entered.
Caralack turned around so promptly Tim almost collided with him. Catching himself and using the momentum to propel his balance back in place, he stared at Caralack as if he wasn't at all curious about the content of the rectangular room beside him.
"This," Caralack began, eying Tim with a cold glare that wasn't even close to measuring up to the Bat Glare (he had obviously not noticed or cared about Tim not removing his mask), "is Tarcol. He is training to be a Guide. He will be assisting me as part of the training process."
Tim looked at Tarcol, who was wearing an unreadable expression as if he had been instructed to do so before hand.
It must have been a good enough introduction for Caralack, because he then opened the door to the rectangular room and continued inside with Tarcal following. Tim considered running for possibly a second, but determined it was completely illogical considering the complicated building routes and Reach aliens posted at every corner (not mentioning that the metal cuffs had hitched back together immediately after he exited his room). So with no other option, he too stepped inside. The proceeding second, Caralack spoke once again.
"This will be your training unit. Instruction will be provided by Gorlac. He will be explaining your first exercise."
Gorlac was about a head shorter than Caralack, and about three times as wide. His scrunched expression gave Tim the impression that he had drunken spoiled milk a few minutes prior. His eyes were so small and embedded into the lines of his face that Tim wasn't sure Gorlac was looking at him, but when a hole opened near the bottom of his face and a deep voice rumbled out of his throat, Tim's attention was averted back on the situation at hand.
"You have already been informed that you will be beginning on the last level of training in the H.A.R.D. program?" Tim wasn't sure if it was a question in the monotonous way he asked it. It was soon clear that it was, in fact, a question when Caralack nodded and Gorlac continued. "The Reach have the support of the majority of the human population, though some remain immune to the secret additive infused in our products. Those humans require immediate subdual. Today, you will be performing a simulation where you will engage and terminate an earthling protest against Reach rule. You will be expected to complete this mission successfully, and if done so, will be immediately promoted to the second sublevel." Gorlac motioned to the door connected to the wall separating the room into two. There was a large screen on the wall projecting a blank picture of whatever lay beyond the door. Large rectangular keyboards with thousands of small buttons lay before it on a futuristic shelf hooked to the dark grey wall.
"You may enter now," urged Caralack, who was quickly becoming impatient.
Tim wasn't sure he was completely apt to do so. Did they really expect him to cooperate so easily?
"I don't think you understand," said Caralack.
"I understand," replied Robin, glaring at the alien, "you want me to fight innocent people… for you."
There was a moment where Caralack stared at Tim, his eyes slits, picking out his next words very carefully.
"I guess we will have to change your view on innocence." He didn't even look at the intern when he said, "Tarcol, please hit the button."
Tim didn't look at Tarcol either; the tension between him and Caralack was so intense he couldn't dare to break the glare he had on him.
'But the button,' thought Tim, 'isn't that—'
A suppressed scream escaped his mouth as a low moan as he struggled to remain standing. Electrical pulses surged through his veins once again. He blinked constantly, his eyes furiously watering at the agony encasing his body. Completely focused on pretending he wasn't being tortured to death, he almost didn't hear Caralack's calm voice over the blood pumping in his ears.
"The pain will stop, Subject 1-02, when you enter the simulation room."
'What would Batman do? Nightwing…Batgirl…' he thought to himself. And suddenly, the situation became clear. 'These people were the ones that killed Batgirl, and now they expect me to willingly work for them? They deserve to… to…'
"Nn-o" It was a slurred 'no,' through clenched teeth preventing a scream to rip through his throat, but it was a 'no' nonetheless.
"You'll kill him," said Tarcol after a moment, who had been completely silent until this moment.
"If that is his choice, it is out of my hands," replied Caralack to his assistant.
"But you nee-"
"Silence Tarcol," interrupted Caralack, "You have no authority to question me."
Tarcol fell silent and Tim was left with nothing but the agonizing pain pouring over his body.
'Can't scream' he told himself, 'can't give them satisfaction…'
Moments passed. There was a sigh, and Robin's defiance appeared to have paid off as the electrical shocks ceased from the metal cuffs binding his wrists together.
He wasn't completely conscience, but he was fairly certain that someone dragged him inside the room and shut the door with such a loud noise that it made Robin's head explode in pain. It was only a few moments before a single shock opened his eyes and caused him to most reluctantly drag himself up into a standing position.
As his heavy breathing filled his lungs with air, his eyes scoped the virtual reality of the simulation. It could have been a street of Gotham for all the darkness and gloom filling every inch of air.
'Is this what the world looks like now?' Tim asked himself.
After walking a few steps and frequently steadying himself from the aftereffects of extreme electricity exposure, he caught sight of the protest. He counted ten—no, eleven—people fighting against four Reach soldiers. Once he had reached the quarrel, Robin immediately delved into the fight.
Despite Tim's lack of staff and utility belt (not considering the hunger tugging at his stomach, as he had not been given any food for as long as he was captured), he nailed one of the aliens in the face, swiftly kicked him in the gut and sent him to the ground.
'You're just lu—'
A scream pierced through the cool air. Excruciating pain burst inside of Robin's head and twisted it back into place.
'The people do not realize that the Reach are not their enemy,' recited Tim to himself, 'the Reach are their friends. The people need to be taught what's right—the Reach is what's right.'
The agonizing strain wisped away as if nothing had ever caused Robin to fall to his knees and grasp his head through his ruffled black hair.
'They're messing with my mind,' realized Tim, slowly getting to his feet and watching the protest continue. He had to make a decision quick, though, because any second the long finger of Caralack or the stubby finger of Gorlac would push a button and his head would explode in agony. Good thing Batman always taught him to think fast.
'The people aren't real, Tim, they're not real.' he repeated in an attempt to suppress the guilt welling up in his stomach as he punched a man in the face and tripped another lady with short hair and ripped jeans. He front flipped and embedded his feet into the chest of a tall brunette, propelling himself backwards and knocking over another protester. He turned to his left to throw a blow at the fifth civilian, who collapsed to the floor.
Robin then spotted a silver glimmer in the corner of his eye and dodged a millisecond too late, he noticed, as a knife ripped deep into the right side of his face. He grabbed the dagger and whammed the handle into the weapon-carrier's head just hard enough so the illusion would crumple to the ground, unconscious.
He took out the last two within seven seconds.
He fell to his knees within the next three.
Tim's eyes latched on to a crack in the blood-stained road. His mind, though, was other places.
'One, two, three,' he was subconsciously counting the protesters he already had taken down. There were eleven in total. Recalling the events of the past few minutes, he continued the count, 'four, five' He had used one protester to propel himself unto another, 'six,' One had given him a deep cut below his eye, and the last two. 'That makes eight… plus the two already taken out by the time I had arrived. So that's ten. Which means…'
A split millisecond later, he had spun around and caught the wrist of young blonde who couldn't have been much older than twenty. Her hand occupied a sharp dagger with a long glistening blade.
It was inevitable that the two would make eye contact. Despite the fact that she was a mere illusion, her emerald eyes triggered a sense of familiarity within Tim. And something about them made it seem like this was all actually real.
"Kill her, Subject 1-02," Gorlac's rumbling voice reverberated around the simulation through some sort of sound system embedded in the walls. "Kill her and you will receive a satisfactory score that will advance you to the next sublevel."
Warm blood streamed down his face from his stinging knife wound. Tim twisted the direction of the blade towards the girl.
'I have principles, Tim, crucial principles' he heard Bruce's voice ring inside his head. It was the day he became the third Robin, 'No guns. No killing.'
"Kill her."
Staring deep into the girl's eyes, Tim squinted and cocked his head. Something was familiar about her—very familiar.
The white slits in Tim's black mask tripled in size.
"Miss Martian?"
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A/N: HOLY PLOT TWIST, BATMAN! Gee, this is insanity! Review! ;)
