Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Chapter Two

Sighing, I picked up the files on Terra and read through them half-heartedly. The first few were as interesting as watching a rock for three days straight. They contained general information – birthday, place of birth, who her parents were… followed by some information about her medical history, then her childhood, and finally her time with the Titans – what she did often, who she associated with, what she ate frequently, etc.

I set the papers on my nightstand to look at more thoroughly later. I settled back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I wondered uneasily if Slade kept such detailed files on me. It wouldn't surprise me if he did.

Gently, I probed the area where he had struck my face and winced. It would leave an impressive bruise. There had been a lot of force behind his blow, his metal gloves had done nothing to soften it. I was lucky I had not lost any teeth.

I got up and walked to the small bathroom that was adjacent to the bedroom. I drenched a rag in icy water, rang it out slightly, and pressed it to my cheek before returning to my bed. It wouldn't work as well as ice, but it would have to do. I had no idea where to find any ice. It was pathetic, really. I had lived here for three years and still had no idea how to find my way around half the corridors. The place was gigantic. It didn't help that the entire thing was underground. If the lights went out, I'd probably be lost for days.

I wondered suddenly how Slade could afford the building. I decided I was probably better off not knowing.

I grimaced and went to soak my rag again. When I re-entered the room, I saw Slade leaning casually against the wall. "Why are you here?"

"This is my house, dear boy. Do I need a reason to be in it?"

"No, I'm sorry for questioning you." How it burned to say those words to him.

"You should curb that flippant tongue of yours before you say something you'll regret. Here, I brought you something." He stepped closer to me and pressed something cold against my cheek. I lifted up a hand to hold it there myself, but he didn't let go.

"Thanks." I muttered, but still he did not leave. I clenched my free hand and gazed up at him. His eye almost looked… kind. Whatever it was, however, it left as soon as it had come. Probably just a trick of the light.

He removed his hand at last. "I expect you at weapons practice after lunch. You need more training before you leave."

Just as he had ordered, I reported to the training room later that day. I had eaten very little – that was one thing I had learned early on. Slade's vigorous training sessions rarely allowed much to stay in my stomach.

I pulled the metal staff from my utility belt and twirled it idly in my fingers. I wondered what he had planned for the day.

I wandered deeper into the room. It doubled as an elite obstacle course. Every time I entered the room, it always seemed different. I could never figure out how he kept changing it around so much. Well, I never got bored, that was for sure.

I inched my way around a large boulder and walked across a wooden plank that spanned a small crevice. It would probably reach no higher than my waist if I were to fall in it. I continued on.

It was the faintest of sounds that alerted me to Slade's presence. I spun around and raised my staff just in time to deflect a blow he had aimed for my head. His staff hit mine with a resounding clang and he jumped backwards. "Good. Now, let's begin."

He crouched and sprang at me. I countered swiftly, but he had the advantage and pressed it, forcing me to continue countering instead of making my own attack.

"One, two, faster, Robin!" he yelled, his voice punctuated by the sharp ring of metal on metal. He drove me further and further back with each attack. It was all I could do to simply defend myself. "Too slow!" His staff cracked into my left arm.

"ARGH!" I cried out, and attacked him with a renewed intensity. I threw a few attacks at him before his staff landed on my hand, sending my own rod flying. He thrust his staff under my chin, and stopped moments before shattering my esophagus.

"Displeasing, Robin." he said and stepped back. "Again."

I picked up my staff and threw myself at him again, despite my aching arm and hand. I managed to hit him once before he ducked and ran his staff against my leg, knocking my feet out from under me and sending me crashing against the rocky floor.

"Get up!" he snarled.

I sprang up with a yell and attacked him. Our staffs met with sharp, violent clangs. I pressed him then he pressed me, as if we were in some kind of intricate dance.

Right, left, spin, swing! The words sped through my head as swiftly as my actions. I knocked his staff upwards with a vertical slash. He quickly retaliated with another swing towards my head, but I deflected it. My hands tingled from the force of stopping his blow.

I jumped away from him, my chest heaving, and wiped sweat off my forehead. Slade took a neutral stance and studied me. I watched him warily, my muscles tensed, ready for his next attack.

"That's enough for now." he said simply, and turned to go. With a cry, I swung my staff at his vulnerable back, but he had expected it and blocked me easily.

"That was an underhanded little trick, Robin." he snarled. His eye narrowed in approval and his voice returned to its normal purr. "It seems you've learned something from me after all. I'm exceedingly proud of you."

I snarled wordlessly at him. Nevertheless, I retracted my staff. I shoved it back into its rightful place on my belt angrily.

"You're more like I am every day, my… protégé." It chilled me to the bone to know that he was right.

"Once more." I said.

"Later." he replied flatly and walked away. A few moments later, I heard the door open and close.

I clenched my fists in fury. Once again, I was repulsed at how similar we were. What had really scalded me, however, was the epiphany I had come to about a month after he had taken me on as his apprentice. His first few training sessions had been just like fighting him when I had been a Titan. Gradually, he had started pushing me harder and harder, until I realized that before then, he had been holding back on me.

I had grown very quickly under his tutelage, but I could still only hit him a fraction of the times he hit me.

I stalked out of the room in a rage. I was met by an empty, unfamiliar hallway. A light flickered on and off ominously and finally died, throwing part of the corridor into darkness. I had exited out the wrong door. I turned to go back the way I had come, but instead found the door locked. I glared at it balefully, but it still would not open. I turned back to the hallway and stared to my right and left. I had no idea where I was. I turned right, hoping desperately I would end up somewhere familiar.

I was lost. I saw nothing I recognized. I couldn't fathom how Slade found his way around his own maze of a lair. It had taken roughly twenty times of Slade guiding me to my room before I learned the way myself.

I halted before a large, metal door. I reached out to open it twice, dropping my hand both times. I stared at it for a while, trying to figure out why I was so drawn to it. Finally, I lifted my hand, grasped the doorknob, and twisted. The door creaked as it opened, and I stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me, causing me to jump, but no one was there. It was probably because of the weight of the door, I decided.

The room itself was sparsely decorated. There was little more than a bed and a nightstand. The walls were bare – eerily so. I had the dreadful suspicion that I knew whose room I was in, but no matter how much my conscience told me I should not be there, I could not turn away. Woodenly, I walked over to the nightstand. There was a leather-bound book on top of it. I opened it to a random page and realized it was a journal. Horrified, I found my eyes drifting to the text on the page. The handwriting was neat and orderly, evenly spaced. Every letter looked almost the same, as if written by a machine.

My apprentice is progressing well. His loyalty to his friends is still existent, but I will break it of him soon enough. I still hear him cry out their names in his sleep at times, but it's less frequent than it once was.

He is becoming more aggressive in our sessions. I can see the hatred burning in his eyes and it drives him to try harder each time. It's quite amusing. He still hates to lose. It infuriates him so.

He still has no clear comprehension of what I do for him, no matter how quickly he learns. I…

A hand fell on my shoulder and gripped it painfully. The journal slid from my fingers and fell haphazardly on the floor.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Slade murmured cruelly in my ear.