Robin staggered to his feet as he and Slade once again continued their training session.
"Poor, very poor," Slade said. "Can't you do any better?"
Robin growled and attacked again, vainly trying to make contact. For some reason, ever since he'd woken up a few hours ago, Robin felt incredibly weak. He chalked it up to being Slade's apprentice and not sleeping the night before, but it didn't seem to make sense. This was a different kind of weakness.
As he and Slade continued fighting, Robin felt a strange sensation come over him. Suddenly, almost abruptly, his mind stopped focusing on his training. He also stopped thinking about Slade and the Titans. For some reason, he was unable to concentrate on anything else except one thing: food. Robin's mouth watered as he thought back to the pizza at the Tower. Crispy pepperoni, steamy sausage, stretchy cheese, it was so delicious. The breakfasts they consumed, Starfire's drinking mustard, Raven's herbal tea, Cyborg's eggs and bacon, and Beastboy's obsession with all things tofu . . .
"Focus, Robin," Slade said.
A sweep under the legs brought Robin down, and he stumbled to his feet, already panting.
"You seem unable to focus," Slade mused as he brought Robin to his knees for the tenth time in the past five minutes. "Is there a problem?"
"N-no." At that moment, Robin's stomach decided to give a large growl. With a growl himself, Robin rushed Slade, but Slade caught his fist.
"It seems there is a necessity to take care of," Slade said, pushing Robin away. He began to walk out of the room. "Come."
Begrudgingly, Robin followed. He wondered how easy it would be for him to attack Slade while his back was turned. If he could just get one good kick in, he might be able to knock Slade out. After that, he could escape and . . . kill the Titans. Robin shook his head, turning back to glare at Slade but gasping when he saw that the man was no longer in front of him. Robin whirled around, trying to locate the madman.
"Calm down, Robin."
Robin turned with a snarl, looking and seeing Slade standing next to a table. Robin noticed that Slade had a tray of food in his hands, and this Slade dropped on the table in front of Robin. Robin glared at the tray. "What's that?"
"Food," Slade said.
"What for?"
"Unless I am mistaken," Slade began, "humans require sustenance every twenty-four hours. Would you rather go without?"
Robin glared again at the tray of food Slade had produced. He didn't think the food was poison, but he also wouldn't put it past Slade to remove the food from its spot if Robin refused. Robin, still considering, felt his stomach growl again as it begged him to give in. Wordlessly, Robin sat down and took a bite of food. After a single bite, however, Robin's ravenous hunger took over, and he began devouring every morsel on his plate. He could hardly remember the last time he'd eaten. It seemed so long ago, but wasn't it just yesterday? The day before? How long had he been here, anyway? To Robin, all the days seemed to run together in his mind. Straining his brain, Robin remembered eating breakfast the day after Slade injected him. That was the day he first lost control. Tossing the memory aside and trying not to think about his injured friends, Robin focused solely on his meal. He didn't care what the food tasted like; nothing could distract him from filling his empty stomach.
Except when Slade returned with his own tray of food and sat opposite Robin.