IV. Paradox

He has thirty-two scars on his legs alone, and is excited about getting some more from the way he twists against his bonds. She hasn't taken off his tunic yet to count the scars on his arms. She imagines his shoulders will be a hassle to count, but knowing, the knowing will be so nice.

Paradox leaves him in her bedroom, and wanders into her bathroom. Eddie uses bar soap which makes Paradox want to gag. She hits the dispenser of the soap container with her elbow, turns on the faucet with her wrist. Rub together, twist, scrub between the fingers, under the nails, deep at the creases of her palms.

Over the rush of the faucet, she can hear him fighting against the manacles some more. The metallic rattle makes her smile, but she mustn't rush this job. What if she got sick and couldn't play with her present? Eddie got her a present, and it's the best present in the world. Sure, Eddie can be a pain most of the time, thinking he's so much smarter than her, obsessed with his little games, never shutting up about her father, always getting her dirty, but this time he brought her a present. Paradox doesn't argue with presents. Especially not ones with scars to count and skin to expose who rattle so fascinatingly.

She's saving the mask for last.

Hands clean, Paradox steps back into the bedroom where Robin has given up fighting against his bonds, and is now merely eyeing them, concentrating so hard it's almost like his mask narrows. She stops her movement to watch him. He's bending his wrist at the oddest angle to brush fingers over the clasp of his manacles. Paradox smiles and swoops back into the room.

Robin's wrist unbends and he looks at her, jaw set. "What do you want, Paradox?" He asks. She likes him a lot. It's a shame he's working for that do-gooder, Batman.

Paradox just smiles, and brings her finger to press to her lips. She moves forward to begin removing the tunic from Robin's arms, and oh because he has a bruise so dark it's nearly black on his shoulder, and a scar from nearly his collarbone down his arm. Another scar. Another. These smaller, maybe from scrapes or knives and she focuses, counting them, labelling what they were probably from.

"Fifty-seven. eight. nine. thirty-four. twelve. one-hundred-thirty-four."

She slaps her hand over his mouth, and she has her gloves on she has her gloves on she has her gloves on and he's good and he couldn't get her sick or dirty and he's a hero not Eddie. His lips pull into a smirk under her hand. glove. "Do you want me to gag you?" She asks.

He responds by licking the palm of her glove. Paradox yelps and pulls back, and Robin, tied up and half-stripped is laughing at her.

She has her knife in hand before she even thinks and it's already sliced the skin of his thigh open before she has a chance to stop herself. Bright, bright blood, and Robin isn't laughing at her anymore. "Thirty-three," she says, and she isn't scared of him. Sh'es not scared, so she can touch the blood, get that brightness on the tips of her gloves, the oily red slicking over the violet vinyl.

"You need help, Stephanie," Robin says, and she can hear pain in his voice. That's good. Her knife presses against his neck this time, but she does not cut. She doesn't need to anymore.

"Paradox."

"Stephanie, it's okay. We don't want to hurt you. We want to help you. The Riddler's using y--" She has to slap her hand over his mouth again. It's the glove with the blood on it because the other one is busy holding the knife to his throat and Paradox really likes Robin a lot. Eddie's so good to her.

"He brought me you," she says before she lets go of her knife, clatter on the floor, dragging her fingers up to slip vinyl over PVC of his mask. Robin twists his head away, and she can't get a grip with her gloves on. It makes her want to cry, but he's good. he's good, and his blood is on her glove anyway, and she can wash her hands later. She hasn't counted the scars on his arm yet, but she needs--

Paradox unlaces the glove on her right hand, folding the vinyl into a tight roll before moving her bare hand to the edge of his mask and pulling.

When he opens his indignant eyes, they're so blue.

"Stephanie, we'll get you help, I promise," he says, but what Robin means is that Batman's going to come save him. That's what Eddie's for. He's taking care of it.

She goes to get bandages for his thigh, twisting her feet to step in the only safe pattern. As she pulls the peroxide and gauze out of Eddie's first aid kit, she thinks of Robin's eyes. His blue, angry eyes. She smiles and hums to herself as she makes her way back to her bedroom. She has Robin, and one day, he'll be good for her too, she just knows it.