Chapter 5
Robin woke up with his head pounding in a rhythm that was threatening to break his eardrums. What had happened? Why did he feel as if he had been hit with Cyborg's sonic cannon, and why did it feel as if someone had dropped a tank on him afterward for good measure? He fought to sit up and managed it on the second try, looking around the room in confusion.
This wasn't his bed. The room was far too large to be his room at the Tower, or even his room at Wayne Manor. The pajamas that he was wearing were comfortable. The furniture was expensive, but very baroque and ugly. The sheets of the bed felt expensive, and everything else in the room screamed "Money! Imported!" There was a small sitting area with armchairs and a sofa in front of the fireplace, and a workout area in the right hand corner across from the bed. A desk was in the back left hand corner sharing the same wall as the head of the bed, and a table and chairs set was to the front and the left. Carpets covered the floor, and all of them looked like worked tapestries. Where in the world was he?
Robin fought down panic and dizziness as he got out of bed. He went to the nearest door and tried it, but he found it locked. The next door opened into a huge bathroom, and he was suddenly very glad that he had found it as he went inside. He received a shock when he looked in the mirror over the sink: his mask was gone! Feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden, he told himself sternly that it was really no big deal, worse had happened before. When he came out of the bathroom, an old man in a butler's uniform was setting the table for breakfast.
"Ah, good morning, Master Robin," he said as Robin stopped to stare at him.
"Who are you?" Robin asked, feeling positive that he couldn't take any more surprises.
"I am Karlton, Master Robin, and Mister Slade has asked me to bring up breakfast for you," he said, removing the covers on all of the dishes.
"SLADE?" Robin gasped. "Slade?"
"Indeed," Karlton said. "You were awake last night when he brought you here, don't you remember? He put you to bed himself."
Robin thought about this. What could he remember from last night? He remembered going out in the R-Jet with Batman, and being shown the back seat of the flyer that could be secured to hold a prisoner for transport. Batman piloted, employing a lot of the special features to show Robin how they worked. Robin began to grow worried as time went on, and finally he suggested that they go back to the Tower since it was now the small hours of the morning. Batman hadn't answered, but he did hit the switch that secured the back seat, trapping Robin.
"Batman, what do you think you're doing?" he'd demanded. "This isn't funny, you know."
"It isn't meant to be," Batman had said, but that time the voice was no longer Bruce Wayne's but that of Slade. There was a rear-view mirror and Robin watched in shock as Slade peeled away a mask that revealed the hated visage underneath. Some kind of gas filled the back compartment then, and the next memory that Robin had was of stumbling up some stairs, collapsing onto a bed, and being tucked under the blankets.
"Where's Slade now?" Robin asked, somewhat fearing the answer.
"Downstairs in the library. He was up early, and he's been working since even before his breakfast. He gave me instructions to give you breakfast, and to get you ready for the day. It's all hot, and the cook we have here is a good one."
Feeling numb from Slade's underhanded trick of impersonating Batman, Robin did as he was told while Karlton fussed a bit at the wardrobe; taking things out, looking at them, and leaving them out if he liked them or replacing them if he didn't.
Breakfast was good: Hot cereal, toast, a ham steak, and a small plate of fruit. He was hungry, so he chowed down, enjoying it all as much as one of Beast Boy's breakfast creations. As soon as he was finished Karlton shooed him into the bathroom for a shower, and when he came out the old butler and the breakfast dishes were gone, but a suit of clothes and a note were set out on the newly-made bed.
Master Robin, it read. Mister Slade wishes you to join him in the library as soon as you are dressed and ready. He also wishes me to tell you that you should come straight there rather than making a foolish attempt to escape. It will not work, and it will try the patience of both of you. Karlton.
"Well, with that wonderful piece of encouragement," Robin snarled, tossing the note into a handy wastebasket. He got dressed, thankful that jeans, a sweater, and sneakers were what had been set out rather than a suit of some kind. He would not wear one of Slade's apprentice outfits again ever, even if he had to go naked, and suits and ties were terribly uncomfortable. He ran a comb through his hair, but he couldn't find any hair gel. Oh, well.
Robin left his room feeling quite off-balance. He was a prisoner of sorts, but allowed to move about on his own? He could try to escape, but Slade would be watching for that. Besides, he needed to know Slade's angle this time. What if he had done something to the other Titans to keep him here as he had with the probes? Robin shuddered, hoping that wasn't the case now.
He reached the library, hoping that Slade wasn't planning on making him do something. His head still hurt from the gas, and he was a little dizzy from it as well. If he was going to be sent out to do something, his reflexes weren't going to be as good, and that could be dangerous.
Slade was relaxing in an armchair in front of a flickering fireplace when Robin entered. He had a book open, but had been ignoring it in favor of watching the door.
"Good morning, Robin," Slade said, motioning the boy to a chair near his. "Sleep well?"
"Spare me, Slade," Robin said as he sat down, thankful that Slade hadn't noticed that he was shaking the tiniest bit. What had been in that gas? He felt as weak as a sick kitten. "You brought me here for a reason, but if it's to be your apprentice, then the answer is no."
"Did I say anything about that?" Slade asked innocently. "How are you feeling?"
Something about the way that Slade asked that question made Robin very suspicious. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, most likely you are feeling a little headachy, dizzy, a great deal of fatigue, and the little bit of exertion you made coming to the library has left you shaking. Am I right?"
Robin stared at him, dumbfounded.
"I'm right," Slade said, sounding very pleased as he leaned back in his chair. "Some of the compounds I used in making that gas has made you feel this way, and any attempt at escape on your part will lead to you being given more of it."
Oooh. Threats, Robin thought, trying to think of a way out. "You didn't bring me here just to make threats, Slade. What is it you want?"
"What I wanted the first time," Slade said pleasantly, as if he were discussing the weather. "This time, however, I've taken plenty of precautions to keep you from running off on me, my little apprentice, or having your loyalties divided." Now Slade's voice grew hard. "Trust me, you'll be seeing very few faces other than mine and Karlton's for the next few years, Robin my lad. Get used to it."
Author's Comment: How's that for sinister? Should I write more?
Robin woke up with his head pounding in a rhythm that was threatening to break his eardrums. What had happened? Why did he feel as if he had been hit with Cyborg's sonic cannon, and why did it feel as if someone had dropped a tank on him afterward for good measure? He fought to sit up and managed it on the second try, looking around the room in confusion.
This wasn't his bed. The room was far too large to be his room at the Tower, or even his room at Wayne Manor. The pajamas that he was wearing were comfortable. The furniture was expensive, but very baroque and ugly. The sheets of the bed felt expensive, and everything else in the room screamed "Money! Imported!" There was a small sitting area with armchairs and a sofa in front of the fireplace, and a workout area in the right hand corner across from the bed. A desk was in the back left hand corner sharing the same wall as the head of the bed, and a table and chairs set was to the front and the left. Carpets covered the floor, and all of them looked like worked tapestries. Where in the world was he?
Robin fought down panic and dizziness as he got out of bed. He went to the nearest door and tried it, but he found it locked. The next door opened into a huge bathroom, and he was suddenly very glad that he had found it as he went inside. He received a shock when he looked in the mirror over the sink: his mask was gone! Feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden, he told himself sternly that it was really no big deal, worse had happened before. When he came out of the bathroom, an old man in a butler's uniform was setting the table for breakfast.
"Ah, good morning, Master Robin," he said as Robin stopped to stare at him.
"Who are you?" Robin asked, feeling positive that he couldn't take any more surprises.
"I am Karlton, Master Robin, and Mister Slade has asked me to bring up breakfast for you," he said, removing the covers on all of the dishes.
"SLADE?" Robin gasped. "Slade?"
"Indeed," Karlton said. "You were awake last night when he brought you here, don't you remember? He put you to bed himself."
Robin thought about this. What could he remember from last night? He remembered going out in the R-Jet with Batman, and being shown the back seat of the flyer that could be secured to hold a prisoner for transport. Batman piloted, employing a lot of the special features to show Robin how they worked. Robin began to grow worried as time went on, and finally he suggested that they go back to the Tower since it was now the small hours of the morning. Batman hadn't answered, but he did hit the switch that secured the back seat, trapping Robin.
"Batman, what do you think you're doing?" he'd demanded. "This isn't funny, you know."
"It isn't meant to be," Batman had said, but that time the voice was no longer Bruce Wayne's but that of Slade. There was a rear-view mirror and Robin watched in shock as Slade peeled away a mask that revealed the hated visage underneath. Some kind of gas filled the back compartment then, and the next memory that Robin had was of stumbling up some stairs, collapsing onto a bed, and being tucked under the blankets.
"Where's Slade now?" Robin asked, somewhat fearing the answer.
"Downstairs in the library. He was up early, and he's been working since even before his breakfast. He gave me instructions to give you breakfast, and to get you ready for the day. It's all hot, and the cook we have here is a good one."
Feeling numb from Slade's underhanded trick of impersonating Batman, Robin did as he was told while Karlton fussed a bit at the wardrobe; taking things out, looking at them, and leaving them out if he liked them or replacing them if he didn't.
Breakfast was good: Hot cereal, toast, a ham steak, and a small plate of fruit. He was hungry, so he chowed down, enjoying it all as much as one of Beast Boy's breakfast creations. As soon as he was finished Karlton shooed him into the bathroom for a shower, and when he came out the old butler and the breakfast dishes were gone, but a suit of clothes and a note were set out on the newly-made bed.
Master Robin, it read. Mister Slade wishes you to join him in the library as soon as you are dressed and ready. He also wishes me to tell you that you should come straight there rather than making a foolish attempt to escape. It will not work, and it will try the patience of both of you. Karlton.
"Well, with that wonderful piece of encouragement," Robin snarled, tossing the note into a handy wastebasket. He got dressed, thankful that jeans, a sweater, and sneakers were what had been set out rather than a suit of some kind. He would not wear one of Slade's apprentice outfits again ever, even if he had to go naked, and suits and ties were terribly uncomfortable. He ran a comb through his hair, but he couldn't find any hair gel. Oh, well.
Robin left his room feeling quite off-balance. He was a prisoner of sorts, but allowed to move about on his own? He could try to escape, but Slade would be watching for that. Besides, he needed to know Slade's angle this time. What if he had done something to the other Titans to keep him here as he had with the probes? Robin shuddered, hoping that wasn't the case now.
He reached the library, hoping that Slade wasn't planning on making him do something. His head still hurt from the gas, and he was a little dizzy from it as well. If he was going to be sent out to do something, his reflexes weren't going to be as good, and that could be dangerous.
Slade was relaxing in an armchair in front of a flickering fireplace when Robin entered. He had a book open, but had been ignoring it in favor of watching the door.
"Good morning, Robin," Slade said, motioning the boy to a chair near his. "Sleep well?"
"Spare me, Slade," Robin said as he sat down, thankful that Slade hadn't noticed that he was shaking the tiniest bit. What had been in that gas? He felt as weak as a sick kitten. "You brought me here for a reason, but if it's to be your apprentice, then the answer is no."
"Did I say anything about that?" Slade asked innocently. "How are you feeling?"
Something about the way that Slade asked that question made Robin very suspicious. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, most likely you are feeling a little headachy, dizzy, a great deal of fatigue, and the little bit of exertion you made coming to the library has left you shaking. Am I right?"
Robin stared at him, dumbfounded.
"I'm right," Slade said, sounding very pleased as he leaned back in his chair. "Some of the compounds I used in making that gas has made you feel this way, and any attempt at escape on your part will lead to you being given more of it."
Oooh. Threats, Robin thought, trying to think of a way out. "You didn't bring me here just to make threats, Slade. What is it you want?"
"What I wanted the first time," Slade said pleasantly, as if he were discussing the weather. "This time, however, I've taken plenty of precautions to keep you from running off on me, my little apprentice, or having your loyalties divided." Now Slade's voice grew hard. "Trust me, you'll be seeing very few faces other than mine and Karlton's for the next few years, Robin my lad. Get used to it."
Author's Comment: How's that for sinister? Should I write more?
