Okay, there were three ways I could have continued this, which also meant three possible endings for the story that I had plotted down.
The first one involved Robin's hero at the end of the previous chapter to be Batman, and the second one would have Robin's hero be Catwoman. Instead, I went with the third option, which is probably the most...unique.
Nothing totally out-there and outlandish that would never be possible, but it is definitely a new way to take the story that I wasn't originally planning to happen, but it still works and will put some more interesting variables into the mix.
And all this from how the original 'How to Lose a Bird' was supposed to be.
The clouds in his head were reluctant to clear. Robin knew that he needed to wake up, that he was in some kind of danger, but what kind, he couldn't seem to remember.
His whole body felt numb, the only movement that managed to pass his muddled brain being the slight twitch of fingers. Robin's eyes darted beneath his eyelids, as if trying to physically clear the confusion.
With a groan the clouds started to disperse, and his thoughts started to form. He still couldn't remember what exactly led to his unconsciousness, but as his mind started to gain even more clarity, he noticed things that shouldn't have been there.
First, he seemed to be on a bed. A large bed, too. The mattress was fluffy, and with the muscle mass he lost from the weeks in the hospital and not being able to eat, Robin's body barely made an indent. The blankets that covered him were unreasonably soft as well, which also meant they were expensive.
So he was definitely not on the streets or some orphanage.
The second thing that Robin found odd was a barely recognizable whirring. It took him a moment, but he recognized it to be a camera somewhere in the room he was in.
Which also meant he was being monitored, complicating things even further.
If the camera had sound, the person who may or may not be monitoring him would know he was waking. And depending on who held him here, that could lead to very good or very bad things.
But as Robin sat motionless in the bed, trying to figure out where he was, one question nagged his now clear mind; How exactly had he ended up here?
He remembered feeling tired and slightly scared, along with a darkness that surrounded him. It was obvious that he had been looking for somewhere to sleep for the night, but he couldn't seem to remember what happened after that.
Robin's eyes snapped open, no longer caring if anyone knew he was awake, and his memories came rushing back.
Quickly sitting up, the teen fought against the tears that were forming, but a few still managed to roll down his cheeks, blurring his vision. His throat choked up, and a single dry sob escaped.
Kid was gone. That stupid little cat, the first real friend he made in this dimension, the one who stuck with him just because he seemed to enjoy his company, was gone. The closest thing he had ever had to an animal companion, ripped away from his hands by a sick, twisted man.
Robin wasn't new to the experience of loss, of course. Being as young as he is, he could be a considered an expert on it. That didn't mean it became any easier.
His shoulders shook with repressed sobs, and he tried to get control of himself. He was in an unidentified place, with no idea how he got here, or who took him. For all he knew, he could be on the other side of the planet.
Taking a few deep breaths, Robin managed to push Kid to the back of his mind, and tried to focus on what was in front of him. He would have time to grieve later.
Probably. If the person who took him didn't turn out to be some kind of criminal. Or even worse, the Joker managed to find him, and was luring him into a false sense of security, only to finish what he started as soon as Robin took a step out of the room.
Robin immediately shook his head at the idea. Joker may be smart, albeit crazy, but that simply wasn't his style.
Another memory seemed to pop into the forefront of his mind, that also disproved the Joker theory. He heard a voice before he blacked out, but it was a deep baritone, not the shrill tenor of the Joker.
A brief spark of hope that Batman saved him came to mind, but Robin diffused it quickly. It was very unlikely, and if it was Batman, he would have been dropped off at the police station, or taken to the Batcave. There was no way Bruce would allow a random kid into the Manor.
Not to mention the bed he was on seemed even more expensive than Bruce's own.
No matter who saved him from the pedophile, Robin needed to find out. And, in the off chance it was an actual hero, thank them. If not, Robin would most likely need to fight his way out.
Bracing himself for whatever or whoever he might encounter, Robin swung his legs out from under the silky covers and tentatively placed his bare feet on the floor. He found it was carpeted, which only made his job of trying to go unnoticed easier, even if he knew there was a camera.
Robin finally took a look around the room, and his eyes widened. It seemed to be the length of a mini-bus, and the width of a regular school bus, the ceiling high enough to have a chandelier hanging from it. The walls were a dark, navy blue, with light grey carpet. A metal door was in front of him, and he could only assumed that was his way out. The sheets he was previously laying on were a slightly lighter shade of blue, the king sized bed being placed in the far corner of the room from the door. It was sparcely furnished, the bed and a large, oak desk at the other corner of the room, and two doors he assumed to be a closet to his left. Robin briefly noted that there didn't seem to be any lights in the room, but his eyes widened even more when he saw the entire ceiling brighten as soon as he moved.
Whoever owned this place must have been loaded. Robin only hoped it was from hard work or inherited funds, and not from any criminal behavior. But, knowing his luck from the last month or so, it would have been obtained illegally.
Robin carefully stood up, scanning the room in full to try and spot the camera he heard earlier. He checked the ceiling corners first, but found nothing. The teen scoured the room, and finally he found the small device hiding in the desk, pointed straight at his bed.
The cameras design was sleek, made to look like a very small lamp. The only thing that would tip anyone off was the small, almost unnoticeable red dot in the center of the 'light bulb'.
Robin shot a menacing glare at the center of the camera before lunging off the bed and quickly walking towards the metal door parallel to the bed. As he cleared the space between the bed and door, he realized he was wearing new clothes as well.
His top was a long sleeved, form fitting black shirt, trimmed white along the collar and sleeves. It seemed a bit tight, but he could deal with it, as it was better than nothing at all. His pants were grey sweat pants, that also seemed a bit tight. In a slight moment of panic Robin wondered if this mysterious person changed his underwear too, but breathed an internal sigh of relief when he found them to be the same pair.
He reached the door, and placed a hand onto the cool surface. There was no keypad or door knob, and it didn't seem to be touch activated, either. It seemed as if it were simply a slab of metal in the wall.
Robin pressed harder, and almost fell forward when the door suddenly slid open. The triumphant smirk that threatened to break out soon fell as he realized his path was blocked.
At first, all he saw was the large, armoured chest, and the hope that it was Batman was kindled once again. But it quickly died, being replaced with dread as he continued to look up at the man in front of him.
As soon as he caught sight of the man's face, his breath hitched and he stumbled back, reflexively falling into a defense position.
Standing outside the door was The Deathstroke. Out of all the possible criminals that he thought may have held him hostage, he was definitely not one of them.
He wasn't wearing his signature two-toned mask, but the short, cropped white hair, goatee and eye patch over his right eye was telling enough.
Technically, he wasn't even supposed to know Slade Wilson, AKA Deathstroke the Terminator, even existed. When Robin was eleven, he tested his hacking skills by infiltrating the Justice League Criminal Files, and stumbled upon his file in the 'Most Wanted' column, right below Lex Luther.
He read up on his file, and discovered just how deadly this man was. He almost managed to take down the entire Justice League single handed in the early days. If that didn't scream powerful, he didn't know what did.
Robin was almost always confident in his abilities, but he was not in optimal health. There was no way he could train while in the hospital, and it was a similar situation when on the streets. That didn't mean he was unfit in any way, but his figure and strength were definitely diminished. Not to mention the recent weight loss.
Even if Robin was as fit as he could possibly be, and had all the gadgets and adrenaline he could muster, he doubted he would be able to defeat Deathstroke. There was no way it would be possible.
The man seem to agree with him.
Deathstroke raised a white eyebrow and crossed his arms, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips as he studied Robin. It made the teen slightly uncomfortable, but he refused to show it, and instead glared defiantly up at the mercenary who was only standing two meters away.
Much too close for Robins liking.
"Adequate form, but you would hold up better against attack if your knees were bent more, and if your fists were slightly raised." he spoke, and this time a smirk really did appear on his lips, being framed by the snow white goatee.
Despite knowing that he shouldn't tempt the man who could most likely kill him in a single strike, a snarl etched itself on the teens face. No one had the right to teach him how to fight except Batman and Black Canary. Especially not the mercenary.
"Thanks, now could you tell me exactly why I'm not dead yet?" the man seemed to be genuinely amused by the sarcastic remark, and it only made Robin scowl more.
"My dear boy, if I wanted you dead you would not have woken in my haunt. I would have left you in that alleyway for that creep to finish you off."
Robin started, and unnconsciously let his defensive position drop the slightest. "Wait, you actually saved me from that guy? I thought you liked to kill people?"
Slades smirk turned to a glare, his lips twisting in a look of disgust. "Killing is in my profession, yes, but I do have some morals. Women and children, for example, I refuse to take contracts on, unless it is a rescue operation."
That was definitely not mentioned in his Justice League file. Of course, this was a different dimension, so the people were bound to be different. But from what Robin had read, Deathstroke seemed to be the last person that would suddenly adopt some morals.
A revelation struck Robin like lightning, and his defense position was back in full force, along with a suspicious glare. "Then why did you take me back to your base? I really doubt someone is concerned for my safety."
Deathstroke stared at him for a moment, his face blank, but then his head tilted in curiosity. "So, what I am hearing is that you don't have a certain connection to Superman, in any way?" Slade paused, and flashed a smirk when Robin's eyes widened. "Funny that he seems to be flying around all of Metropolis asking the criminals if they've seen a teen with a permanent smile, isn't it?"
Robin was in a state of shock. Clark had actually been looking for him? Even though the Man of Steel barely knew him? He didn't expect this Clark to care that much, as his would simply write it off as some teenager and go on with his life.
The bird realized he needed to learn quick not to assume anyone's actions based off of what he knew previously. Robin needed to look at every one as if they were a stranger, no matter how hard that may be.
Slade waved his hand in the air, and continued speaking, his cold eye never once leaving Robins face. "Naturally, anything the Blue Boy Scout had an interest in will eventually get back to Luthor. Which is exactly why he hired me to find you for a generous amount of money, and found you I have. And just in time, might I add."
Robin found himself feeling a bit guilty about being so quick to assume the worst. This man probably did save his life, after all.
The teen shook that out of his head immediately, and instead met the amused glint of the mercenary's silver eye with yet another cold glare.
"If you're expecting a thank you for the whole 'saving my life thing', you're wasting your time. And if you're getting paid to deliver me to Luthor, then why exactly did I not wake up in some cage or lab in Lexcorp?"
Everything about this seemed suspicious. Deathstroke in general was a criminal, but what he was saying seemed to be truthful. If Robin knew anything, though, it was to not trust a criminal. But what he was saying seemed accurate, only making Robin's mind more muddled.
Slade's face was filled with smug amusement as he answered. "As smart a man as Luthor thinks he is, he foolishly didn't specify a date by which he needed you to be delivered. I also acquired half of my payment up front, so even if I end up never giving you to him, I still come out of all this with a sizable chunk of cash being added to one of my bank accounts."
"That didn't exactly answer my question. Why haven't you given me to Luthor yet?"
The smirk turned to one of satisfaction at Robins words. "You see, I found a certain...fascination with you. And not just because of your unique features." Slade took a step into the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. Robin took a few more steps back to further their distance before he continued, right hand stroking his beard. "Even when unconscious I could sense something special about you. I am in tune with my instincts, and all of them said that I needed to study you further." Slade's eye became almost predatory as he clasped his hands behind his back. "And am I glad I did."
"So, I'm just some experiment to you?" Robin asked with a raised eyebrow. Slade merely snorted.
"No, not quite. I don't quite know myself. But I have learned that you seem to possess knowledge that most of the civilian population does not have. And at such a young age, as well."
Robin resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the age remark. "Cool, so you think I'm smarter than most people. You're gonna make me blush if you keep up the compliments." This made the man in front of him chuckle. He actually sounded amused, too.
"Not just smart, although I can tell you are highly intelligent. I'm talking about facts that most don't know, such as who I am without my mask. You seemed to know who I was as soon as you saw my face." Robin paled as Slade continued on. "You also knew that Lex Luthor isn't simply a business man, but something a bit more sinister. Tell me, how many civilians do you believe possess that knowledge?"
Robin cursed himself internally. Why didn't he think about what he was saying? Of course some random kid wouldn't know about Luthor or Deathstroke. He was foolish, and simply let his mouth run without the usual filter because of the unusual situation.
But that was not an excuse. Batman taught him better. Bruce taught him better. And now he was in the claws of a deadly mercenary, no gadgets, no friends, no Justice League, no Team.
Once again, the realization that he was completely alone hit him, but instead of a simple slap that it seemed to be in that alley three days ago (was it three days? How long was he out?), this was like a speeding bullet. His mind froze, and as Robin looked up into the silvery gaze of the smirking mercenary, only one thought was able to penetrate the ice.
So not Asterous.
Hey, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I think I got Deathstroke's character right, but tell me if you guys have any suggestions if he seemed a bit OOC.
The ending seemed a bit rushed, but I didn't want to cram too much into one chapter.
Also, tell me if this story seems to be going too fast or slow. Sometimes I doubt myself, so feedback would be appreciated!
~Atatami
(P.S.- To any of you who read Changing Tides, sorry for the delay. Experiencing a bit of writers block with that story, so sorry bout' that.)
