XI.- Open your eyes, Open your eyes, open your eyes...
He opened his eyes, but still he was surrounded by darkness.
An alarm was ringing, nearer this time.
---warning---
---warning---
His head was inside something...a pod of sorts... That was why it was all so dark. The air was foul and hot, his own sweat dampening.
The alarm just went on.
---warning---
---warning---
His arms felt colder, but a little stiff.
He also felt his left arm nailed with needles. Drugs and serum, he deduced. Enough to make him sleep and dream, enough to keep him alive...
His head hurt like hell. It was really hot, he needed fresh air.
"I have to get out of here"
He knew by the stiffness of his muscles and the aching in his brain that he should give himself some time. No sudden moves, no rushing, no hurrying... but he also knew that the still ringing alarm would finally take someone there. And he was not exactly fit to fight.
So he raised his arms and got rid of the pod, hurting all over where the needles ripped his flesh, the sudden movement removing them from the carefully and surgically chosen point.
Light hurt his eyes, white and clean, but he rapidly adjusted.
The room was empty but for the couch he was lying in and the hairdresser-dryer-like thing that had been until recently conected to his head. Two cameras and a big mirror completed the scenery.
Great. He was in a lab, and he was the guinea pig.
Now, free of the helmet, the alarm was even louder. It hurt his temples and ears.
---warning---
---warning---
Quickly he checked his face and the mask was still on.
This was something he would never really understand about the bad guys. They had these brilliant brains capable of making incredibly complicated and twisted plans... but they would never, ever, get off the mask. They were all nuts, of course, what would probably explain a lot, but... seriously.. why don't simply kill them as soon as they catch them?
Anyway, it was a good thing, if having insane psychopaths willing to destroy you in a colorful and original way was to be considered good, of course.
"Drugs are making me digress", he realized.
So he focussed, noticing the floor was cold under his feet, wich meant he was wearing no boots, and that he was bleeding were the needles had been stuck until just recently.
He also noticed the alarm was silent now.
It meant a lot of things, of course, but he very much doubted help was in his way.
Noone could know where he was, it's what happens when you work, live and act alone. So he was on his own, and his resources were limited.
He staggered to the next wall, his legs tired and weak, looking for a door. There was none to be seen. He knew that, given time, he would find one and, eventually, he would open it. But he suspected time was a luxury he couldn't afford.
On the other hand, he could trash the mirror that, most probably, lead to another room where some mad scientist might be looking at him with some interest and a manical laugh.
But he had not time for the door, nor strenght for the mirror.
So he laid again on the couch, feeling still dizzy. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He was missing something...
As, for instance, that several minutes had passed and noone had really checked on him. Logic dictaminate that, once risen the alarm, two really built-in male nurses should have entered the room, trying to subdue and drug him again. But noone was coming, wich could mean that, whoever had kidnapped him had panicked and gone, leaving him alone in a closed room, with no tools, no food and no water.
"Positive thinking is really your thing, boy."
Ok, his conscience had a point, as always.
He had to think positive... so, he had to forget about the horrible feeling that noone was really going to notice he was missing, not until several weeks had passed. Well... at least until a pair of weeks had passed.
So, ok.
He was most probably alone.
Right.
No need to panic.
Time to rise again and check the walls then.
If only the room would stop spinning around and his legs would walk in the direction he was dictating... It took him several minutes to feel all the walls with his fingertips, looking for a draft or, in fact, any trace of an entrance... or, in his case, of an exit.
Relief filled him when he finally felt fresh air.
He pressed his face against the wall, letting the cold to clear his fogged mind, getting rid of the terrible headache for a few seconds.
Now, to find the switch to...
click
He fell backwards when the door opened, startling him, making him fall on his back, his already aching body protesting
But he really didn't mind, because he was focussed in one thing only. The tall, dark and big figure shielding the door frame.
Panic overtook him while he tried to stand up, stumbling over the couch and nearlly falling again.
"Robin" Said, tending a hand.
"I don't want to fight you! I woke up! I won!" Protested the boy, putting the couch between himself and the dark figure.
"Yes, you won." It conceaded. "It's over."
The boy closed his eyes, breathing deep. His mind was still confused by the drugs, he was not thinking clearly.
"Robin... " Said it again.
He opened his eyes, smiling now.
The room was spinning again as the adrenaline faded, all his strenght gone.
"You know, Batman, I think I'm going to faint."
And, as the Dark Knight stepped forward, alarmed, he closed his eyes and fell.
Then there was nothing, and it felt good.