"I'm evil to the core. What I shouldn't do I will. They say I'm emotional. What I want to save I'll kill. Is that who I truly am? I truly don't have a chance..."
Fingers curled around his neck, Slade yanked Robin backward. The boy wonder struggled and flailed instinctively. The pipe swayed as the two thrashed about.
Robin's nails clawed at the iron. White, jagged scratches imprinted it as he was pulled. It was no use. Unable to hold out against the villain's inhuman strength, he was snatched away.
Arms wound tight against his torso like boa-constrictors. His back was crushed against Slade's chest.
"Shh…" Slade whispered in his ear.
His ribcage groaned in protest against the devastating pressure. It was soon impossible to move, to wriggle. His legs dangled seventy feet above ground, swaying limply. In the coils of the snake, the bird suffocated. His chirps became choked whimpers.
"You know, Robin," Slade hissed, his copper chin grazing the boy's trembling cheek. "I must confess that I'm in a bit of a predicament here."
Sharp elbows dug into his sternum. His eyes watered. His brain cried for air.
"I can't kill you," Slade mused. "But I also can't allow this gross act of defiance to go unpunished. What to do, what to do…"
It wasn't as if Robin could answer him. His lungs had just enough room for a small passage of air to leak in and out of his chest. The arms that wrapped around him squeezed, perpetually pulverizing.
"Oh, I know."
Suddenly leaping onto the rail with Robin in tow, Slade held the boy over undefiled airspace and dropped him.
Life Lucifer, like Icarus—he fell.
Gravity sunk its hook into his flesh and dragged him down to earth. Industrial wind smacked against his free-falling face. He couldn't see a thing as he plummeted, blurs of fast-moving black. A network of pipes appeared suddenly below him, careened toward him.
Flailing, he tried to grab a hold of them, tried to buffer his fall. He caught onto one, but couldn't keep his grip. He was soon thrown about like a ship on rocks; his body smacked helter-skelter against the spiraling rails.
He awkwardly cavorted, trying to stall his speed before he became a smear on the floor. The iron clashed against his bones and shattered as he was dashed against it. He heard cracks, felt jabs of pain splinter up his sides. His skull hit metal and created a booming echo. Disturbing warmth seeped down the back of his neck.
His vision went blurry. Every pipe was just out of reach. His arms became heavy and his head, groggy.
The ground was fast approaching. The glitter of the familiar gym mat shone in his peripheral.
Ten feet from the concrete, something snagged onto his waist and yanked him to a halt. His neck snapped unpleasantly, but didn't break. He peered, dazed, at the face of the rocky floor. His mind was blank, devoid.
Then, whatever was keeping him airborne released him. He collided with the ground. Although the drop was only a few yards, it was still painful. Thankfully, he managed to land on his shoulder rather than his head. His hipbone crackled and moaned as it ricocheted against the cold, rough stone.
When at last his body had stilled and feeling had returned to his flesh, he was able to breathe again. He gulped up oxygen in horrible, thirsty gasps. He rolled onto his back, eyes wide and overcome. Everything was jarred back to life in one awkward rush. Darkness edged the corner of his vision, encroaching. Mindlessly, his hands patted the dirty floor, wanting to feel the safety of the static ground; however, it was quickly becoming more dangerous.
Paralyzed, he didn't have the brain power to comprehend that Slade was quickly descending from the rafters above.
Hard, leather boots pounded alarmingly into the floor, shaking it. The sudden jolt ignited the fear in his heart. Still completely stunned with dumb adrenaline, his feeble attempt at scrambling to his feet was embarrassing.
Palms ripping, he fell twice and had to settle for a crawl. His body trembled and quivered. He didn't feel human; he was reduced to the basest of animals.
With smooth, calm strides, Slade came alongside him—an omen.
"Hm, that wasn't as satisfying as I hoped," he deliberated with an accent of disappointment.
The boy was still pathetically trying to get away. He ambled in no direction and shuffled at the speed of a tortoise while on all fours.
"But I do enjoy watching you squirm."
With that, Slade gave Robin a swift kick to the gut. The boy wonder merely whimpered and curled into himself, unable to process the pain. With a soft sigh, Slade squatted down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Remember, dear boy, this hurts me more than it hurts you," he explained, cocking his metal, skeletal head. "We had been making such progress but I suppose I can only blame myself. Maybe you aren't who I thought you were. I have been wrong before."
Robin's cloudy eyes widened. Slade spoke through a faraway tunnel; he could barely make out the man's words. Safe to say, he didn't like where this conversation was going, but his tongue was deactivated and dry. His mind was becoming clearer, but his body remained in shock—worthless and stubborn.
Slade's islandic, indigo iris flicked up into the far corner of his eye as he pondered.
"No, I think not," he surmised after a moment, giving Robin's shoulder a squeeze. "You've already proven yourself to be the perfect apprentice. All that's missing is…incentive."
Slade stood and held up his vambrace to his chest. He jabbed a button.
The screens on the southern wall flickered to life. Four different images filled up the monitors: a live feed of red blood cells racing unassumingly from vein to vein, artery to artery. Blearily, Robin recognized the names labeling the tops of the displays: Beast Boy, Cyborg, Raven, Starfire.
"Here's what's going to happen," Slade stated happily. "You have…oh, let's say ten, no—six minutes to kill that waste of a life down the hall or the Titans die. I had hoped that you would be the one to end them, but we can't always get what we want, can we?"
Spluttering, using all of his effort to force his mouth to work, Robin made pitiful gurgles.
"Your time starts…"
"Sla-sla-d-d-e…w-a-a—" Robin choked, begging.
The villain's eye swerved coolly in his direction.
"…now."
Pushing off from the ground, Robin had no idea how he was able to stagger to an upright position, much less run. He veered haphazardly as he sprinted, crashing into the cobbled wall when he reached the face of the tunnel. He didn't so much as take a moment to steady himself before continuing his mad, mad dash.
Nothing sounded in his brain; no worthy thought bubbled to the surface. His body was still confused and utterly disoriented as well as wounded. His heart, however, was beating a wartime drum:
Save them! Save them! Save them! It shrieked—blowing the whistle that sent him over the top and into battle.
It was this desire, this selfish love, which spurred his bleeding, battered feet. It was almost supernatural, magical. It was if all power and authority had shifted from the dual powers of his brain and body to his volatile heart.
Despite evidence to the contrary, Robin was tied irrevocably to the Titans. He was going to save them and no one was going to get in his way—not even an innocent life. He had not suffered this much just to watch them die.
The cavern was awfully dark, but he stuck close to the left side, his fingers running across the stones, feeling for the entryway.
His hand hit air—the iron door was still open. At the same moment, a faint sparkle blinked in his murky peripheral. The light was still on.
He rounded the corner and rushed into the room.
The black sack sat crumpled on the ground; the man's face was still exposed. When Robin entered, the stranger's one, undamaged, brown-green eye widened. A flash of hope galloped through it when he noticed that Slade had not returned. His surprised brow was lost in a blizzard of bruises and blood.
For a moment, he thought the mysterious boy was on his side.
"Who are you? What's going on? Is he gone?" the man blabbered.
His low voice was scratched and his words were garbled by his swollen, cut-up lip.
Robin said nothing as he approached. The man became more frantic. The hope died in his expression, but he tried again.
"Please! Get me out of here! I haven't done anything! Help me! PLEASE!"
Still Robin made no reply. He stepped into the ring of light and went to stand behind Slade's prisoner who then began to weep. Trails of tears sped down his dirty, bloodstained face.
"I have a wife…a son…please…" he blubbered, shoulders shaking. "Don't do—"
In one swift movement, Robin snapped his neck.