A/N: Haha, thanks for letting me know, guys! This will be a short story, not one of the massive fics I usually do, so I hope to update this quickly. Infiltration will update by January 31, if all goes well.
If you have any theories please let me know! I love theories. :D
Chapter 2
8:54pm
Six Months Earlier
"The trichogramma wasp is an egg parasite who lays its egg in those of other pests," the dry narrator said. "Common hosts include most kinds of moths and other insects considered pests in a gardener's home. Larvae pupate inside the host egg, emerging as an adult in 6-9 days and continue to mate and lay eggs."
These parental blocks on the tv were so annoying. Dick struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched the tiny insects on the screen. The flickering television light kept him awake. Slade was out of town this weekend, which meant Dick had more time to himself. Too tired to read a book—or do anything else really—he had resigned himself to the animal channel. One of the few delightful entertainments he was entitled to. This wasn't even Planet Earth kind of good. Dick slumped on the leather couch, yawning as he watched the wasp lay an egg inside a moth egg. Gross.
"Gardeners who vouch for organic control or integrated pest management use the trichogramma wasp to control large moth infestations, such as spring or fall cankerworms, before they can hatch. To properly control the infestation, the wasp must be released during egg-laying periods or before the caterpillars emerge. Otherwise, the wasps will leave the area in search of other hosts."
"Oh my god," Dick said. "Will, can you please buy Slade a Roku? Or a Chromecast? The boxed DVD set of Planet Earth? This is awful."
"Why are you asking me?" Wintergreen emerged from the other room. "I don't watch TV."
"It would be nice not to watch Animal Planet every single time he's out of town. If I steal the whole boxed set of Clash of the Planets can I at least watch that?"
"I think we have that somewhere in the back."
"Yeah, right."
A nagging thought badgered him as he sat there, not doing anything to escape. Nearly every day when he wasn't training or sleeping, he conspired. He studied the nanobots when he could, learning everything Slade asked him to and beyond, all for the sake of finding something he could use. But today, though Slade's absence made it a perfect night for subterfuge, all he wanted to do was fall asleep on the couch.
He laid down, too tired to even argue, and listened to the narrator talk about the trichogramma wasp, knowing his dreams would now be full of the parasites.
"The trichogramma wasp is an excellent method of organic control. After the trichogramma have left the infected area, the remaining pests emerge as adults, and are left vulnerable to the area's natural pest control."
7:02 am
Hour 2
It's way too early for this.
He regretted choosing the workbench as a bed, but it didn't matter how much sleep he got. Eventually he'd run out of steam and function completely on adrenaline. He looked up as a familiar grinding sound echoed through the Haunt. Slade had turned the gears back on. Someday, Dick would find out what they did, or if Slade just liked the aesthetic.
A Sladebot pummeled into Dick as he worked on the control panel, knocking him back onto the hallway floor. Where the hell did that come from?!
He twisted around, searching for its weak points, trying to get it off him. Instead of fighting back, the Sladebot sat on him, pinning him with its monstrous weight. Other Sladebots joined in, combining their weight to crush him. Strong he may be after years of training, but Dick couldn't move hundreds of pounds of metal and wire.
Dick bucked under its weight, fighting to wrestle his wrists free as they surrounded him. He glanced up at them, those featureless faces so familiar to him. Didn't these things realize that he had spent hours fixing them up? What kind of robot attacked its master?
A lump suddenly formed in his throat. Between the metal doors and the bots, a foreign feeling crept over him, shivering free from his spine and effusing every bone in his body. The air tasted stale, and his mouth went dry. He kneed the Sladebot, earning himself a knee to the stomach.
"Fuck…" he breathed, flexing his fingers, wanting to strangle something.
A light flickered above him. His eyes shot towards the bot pinning him down, whose face opened, revealing a camera inside. This model must be one of the older ones—the one Dick fought on that rooftop so long ago. Slade's image appeared. He was still in the main room, he hadn't moved away from the control panel.
"Like I said, I am grateful you fixed the glitch," Slade said, tapping his goateed chin thoughtfully. "Why don't you wait there, and we'll talk this out. Whatever it is."
Dick continued to struggle, cursing himself for wasting so much energy. If the other rooms had bots, he wouldn't be able to take them all down. Not in an enclosed space like this.
"Feeling a little claustrophobic, are we? Not to worry, you'll be out in no time."
Slade moved away from the camera, though it didn't shut down. He was monitoring him, as he always did.
"Get off," Dick growled, even though he knew he was just talking to a robot.
The Sladebot didn't budge. Dick could only move his head. Think, think! He spent most of his time working with the stupid things—he volunteered to. How else could he could close to Slade's nano technology?
Sensors.
He looked at their dark eyes, so void of life. Dick hacked up some boogers at the back of his throat and spat at them, earning him another knee to the stomach. Boy, he shouldn't have fixed that glitch yesterday!
"I assume," Slade said, stepping through the open door. "There's a logical explanation for this." He waved a hand. "Let him go."
The Sladebots got off him. Dick took one look at Slade and dashed towards the end of the hallway just as Slade opened the door, kicking away the razor that had blocked it.
"It's a dead end, idiot," Slade said.
Dick launched himself at the metal door, blocking off Slade's quarters from his, and bounced off, flipping himself over Slade. He felt like a sprinter, constantly running the same track as he ran yet again towards the main room. The familiar grinding of metal on metal sounded again as Slade ordered the door down.
This time he wasn't so lucky. His hood caught in the door, nearly strangling him as he fought with the zipper. In a few seconds he fumbled out of it. He really did hate that thing.
"What are you doing?" Slade sounded genuinely befuddled. Good. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Why the fuck do you think I'll do that?"
"Stop with the language."
Maybe Slade thought he had finally gone bonkers. It wouldn't be the first time he had tried to calm Dick down. He sensed something was off this time, and Dick's erratic behavior confused him.
"Put the Haunt out of lockdown!" Dick shouted.
"What?"
"I'm leaving! I'm done!"
Slade furrowed his brow.
Dick gesticulated towards the front door. "I'm done."
"You're not done."
"I think I am."
"You don't stay here for three years and suddenly decide to leave. Do you want me to push the trigger?" The trigger appeared in Slade's hand.
"Do it." Dick never thought he would say those words out loud. He visibly flinched as Slade's thumb moved, regretting this immediately. Even saying it as an act of defiance was unnerving.
Slade paused. He turned the tv screens back on, his gaze never once breaking away from Dick's. He reached out and grabbed Dick by the collar, pulling him towards the screens. The bloodstreams look as they always did.
Slade looked at Dick, and then back at the screens. His brow furrowed, his mind working more furiously than the gears above them. He shoved Dick in front of the screens and put away the trigger. Slade reached out, turning on some kind of command that allowed him to zoom in on the bloodstreams. He searched the video feed for several seconds, searching for something he could not see.
They looked just as they always did. Nothing had changed.
"Will," Slade said into a walkie, "we'll be in lockdown until this is cleared up. It shouldn't take long, but just in case—"
"Understood."
"You and me," Slade said, pacing in front of the screens, "are going to have a little chat."
"Fine. I have nothing to hide."
Dick understood that he wouldn't escape today. All other escape attempts had proved futile—even if he wanted to leave, regardless of the Titans, Slade wouldn't allow that. So Dick did the only thing he could do: play Slade's game. Without the Titans helping him he wouldn't be able to escape.
Slade stopped pacing, the lights from the screen illuminating his ominous figure. Three years ago Dick was terrified of him. He still was now, though that fear manifested it in other ways.
"Let's take a tour of your room, shall we?" Slade grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward. "If you try to hide anything, then your friends will pay for it."
They hurdled towards the living quarters, the other hallways sealed off. Dick couldn't help but feel claustrophobic as he looked at the metal doors. He had been in lockdown before. That's how Slade sealed him off like a caged rat. Even the sky window was blocked off. Dick could only hope that his plan would work. All he needed was a little time.
