Chapter 3- What's Inside

(Slade)

It was Gotham; it had to be. The streets were not labeled, but each building was an exact replica to the crime-infested city. Strange how the boy's mind was based in such a place as this, but if his hunch was correct, there was a deeper reason behind it.

He had done thorough research before proceeding with his plan and he knew who to look for as well as what it was he had to do. Focusing on his goal, he couldn't help but feel a bit curious as to what- or rather who –he was to run into and the reactions toward his presence.

He might even go as far as saying he felt a tad…excited.

Winding his way around the mock-city was fairly simple; finding his objective, however, now that was proving to be quite difficult. No doubt the titans had discovered their friend and had begun the plan to follow him here, but he wasn't worried. Let them try to stop him; it could be interesting.

Knowing his target's history definitely helped explain the inconsistencies he had found. First, there was a familiar T-shaped tower on the shore-line though the Titans were located in Jump City. This Gotham was substantially smaller than it was in reality; only focusing on the important buildings and streets. Wayne manor could be seen in the distance, though not near as far from this area as it truly is, but the most noticeable difference was the brightly-lit circus that spared no expense on realism.

That would be his first target.

The large tent in the center of the plethora of lights, booths, and games was anything but covert as "Haley's Circus" was glowing on signs in any direction. The name on the poster just outside of the slightly darkened tent read "The Flying Grayson's" and advertised their final performance, giving Slade a reason to enter. The inside of the tent was created from a faded memory the boy held onto, though it blurred around different areas as if they had been lost to time. Sitting in the center of the darkened performance ring, was one of the many forms of the boy he was no doubt going to encounter on this mission.

Wearing what Slade assumed was his uniform from his time as an acrobat- a red and white spandex suit and mask -the boy sat still, looking off into space as if caught in a memory. His black hair hung limply into a cloudy blue gaze that saw all of the horrors that shaped the hero he helped create. He looked a deal younger than the child Slade was accustomed to, but his eyes were far older. It took some time before he registered another presence with him, but all he did was stare into the cold mask that knelt before him.

"I assume you are his grief," Slade said gently. He understood this part of the boy due to the fact that he harbored the same, though his was far more violent in its regrets.

The boy answered slowly, "I am." His voice was rough with disuse.

"Do you have a proper title?"

"John."

The man nodded a bit, "After your father."

There was no response, but the way John's eyes welled up with the onslaught of emotional pain was enough. Acting out of character, Slade placed a gentle hand on the boy's back before standing to leave. Grieving was best done alone as he had come to understand.

It was then that he saw a slight shadow dart away from the entrance. Chasing it was his first instinct as he gave chase to the lithe figure running away from the tent. Unknown to the man, those haunted eyes followed him as he left; the first time the boy allowed himself to fall away from his purpose before plunging back into the horrors.

The shadow was fast, he would give it that, but that didn't stop him from catching the boy before he had made it out of the district; more-than-likely due to the boy's attire. Though he seemed the correct age and build- if not a bit younger and smaller -baggy sweatpants along with a faded hoodie far too big for him only hindered his speed.

The villain trapped him in an ally while the child pounded his fists against the dead end as if it would save him. He ignored the approaching threat for a moment; that is, until the realization hit him and spun him around. Those blue orbs widened in unadulterated fear as a gasp of panic stole his breath at the sight of the man before him. He tried to run past in an ill-thought out attempt to get away from the enemy despite his current position.

Slade let a smirk cross his hidden face; finally able to see just how much of an affect he had on his apprentice firsthand. It quickly became a nuisance when the boy actually managed put some distance between them by jumping off of the wall and behind the man. That small relief was immediately taken from him, though, when the mercenary darted back into his path, latched a tight grip onto the boy's arm, and swung his back against the ally wall to keep him still.

The child whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut while remaining perfectly still in his captor's grip.

"Which part of him are you?" Slade asked.

"I-I'm f-fea-r," the boy stuttered, "T-they c-c-call m-me R-rich-ard."

"By 'they' you're referring to the other emotions."

Richard forced a nod through all of his trembling.

The man scowled a bit. While he may have found this initially amusing, it was beginning to grate on his nerves. He was almost glad the real Boy Wonder didn't show this pathetic side of himself. Greif, he could relate to; this, however, was completely different. "Take me to the one I'm looking for," he ordered harshly.

"B-but I-I…"

"Spit it out!"

"I c-can't!" He cried, tears threatening to fall, "If I t-take y-you to th-em, N-nightw-wing will b-be m-ad. B-but I can t-take you t-to some-one e-l-se."

Slade's brow quirked, Nightwing?, he wondered. He didn't bother asking this sputtering mess, but instead tightened his grip until the boy was all but crying out for mercy. Ordering the child to 'be quiet and go' was all it took to gain the boy's instant obedience and abrupt silence aside from his constant whimpers.

It was as they were walking down an empty street when a question suddenly arose within his mind, "Why were you in the tent?"

Richard shivered at the harsh voice, but answered quickly. "I-it was my t-urn to check on J-John. H-he some-t-times gets lo-nely all b-by himself so we check on h-him a l-lot."

"Is he not supposed to feel lonely? I was under the impression that each piece of a person's mind was designated a group of emotions."

"Y-yes, b-but Richie- the h-happy side of-f us–doesn't l-like leaving h-him alone," he explained.

Silence took over again and Slade didn't bother to break it. Listening to this boy speak was enough to make him want to throttle him out of existence.

Suddenly, they stopped. Looking around, Slade noticed nothing different aside from the buildings. Before he had a chance to ask, his instincts had him dodge to the left just in time to be missed by a foot that was clearly headed for his back.

"Aww," the attacker whined, "I missed." Without hesitation, the newcomer jumped into another offensive maneuver while Richard turned and ran away.

Slightly angered at his prey's escape, Slade acted on reflex to parry each blow. When the opponent realized his element of surprise was thwarted, he bounced gracefully backwards and huffed playfully.

"That didn't go as planned. I'm Rob, by the way."

The man frowned, "What exactly do you represent?"

Rob's chest puffed out proudly as he stood tall; it was exactly like facing Robin himself seeing as the age and attire were the same. "I am strength, pride, and confidence," he raised a smirked eyebrow at Slade, "I am also the one who comes up with the witty comebacks and cheesy jokes, though I haven't been needed for any jokes recently." He seemed to pout at the last comment.

"Thank goodness for that," Slade muttered.

The boy burst into laughter, but made no other comment before turning his back to the man, "Follow me," he offered, shooting a grapple into the air and flipping onto the roof of a building.

Relieved to be rid of the pathetic mouse, the mercenary wordlessly chased the boy who faultlessly jumped across, over, and through his obstacles as if this were a game of parkour. Eventually, though, he began to slow down at the presence of a large clock tower overlooking what seemed to be a campus of some sort.

"Where are we?" Slade asked bitterly, hating how he was forced to deal with these children, but it was worth it to reach the end goal.

Rob didn't answer. Instead he jumped onto the side of the clock tower and used anything and everything to climb his way down to an opening. With the villain behind him, he ducked through beams and gears until they reached a large, open space that harbored what seemed to be a laboratory, an office, a library, and a study all-in-one.

The resident of the room didn't turn at the sound of their entrance, but rather waved his hand toward a gathering of plush chairs and a couch in the corner by the bookshelves. "Have a seat; I will be with you shortly."

If Rob was even slightly offended, he didn't show it. Running and leaping onto the couch, the boy laid back comfortably. Noticing Slade had not followed, he raised his head slightly. "Well, you heard him; 'have a seat', dude. No need to be standing around until he finishes."

Sighing, the mercenary settled into one of the chairs and decided to take account of the room. It was strikingly similar to his lair in Jump City. Gears lined the walls, shifting together to create something of an ambiance while a large computer monitor took the entirety of one wall. A desk was set before it covered in some form of paperwork and random bits of metal while the screens showed the site he sent his pawns to distract the titans. Across from the computer, the far wall was lined with steel counters that harbored multicolored liquids and formulas as if the boy was a scientist. The 'library' was essentially a large array of books lining shelves that reached the ceiling while a ladder was shifted off to the side. It shared a corner with both the computer and the lab as the seating arrangement sat a ways from the desk and the chair it accompanied. On the opposite side of the room were what seemed to be a massive collection of files, though Slade couldn't be sure what exactly they were for.

Content with his deductions of the room, he focused on the boy eyeing the large computer screen as the view switched from different angles of the fight that occurred between Robin and himself. More than likely due to him wearing what must have been his school uniform; this persona came off slightly older and more pompous than Robin. He was clearly the scholar if his surroundings were anything to base the hypothesis on, but he would simply have to wait for assurance.