Delightful Drabbles

by Wynja

SladeRobin drabblecollection, and some Red X now! Both slash and nonslash stories will be listed... mostly slash, though... severe fluffwarnings might be issued.

139. Responsibilities

IMPORTANT-NOTE: As I write this it's 9 PM on the 10'th of February, and I've tried to log in on since 5 PM…. So it's pretty clear that this, and perhaps tomorrows drabble will be LATE… sorry b-day girls, but it's not my fault…

When stuff like this happens. like you are expecting an update and nothing happens, check out my dA account or join "the Ducklings" group on facebook (it's a closed group so whatever you write in there stays within the group, no worries) because, if I can, I'll let you know through there why there are no updates… So… gonna try to log in for a bit longer, but… yeah… I hope that it's not spring by the time you read this… ;)

/EDIT: It's now 8 am on the 11'th and YAY it seems I can upload again! So here this story is, and the next will be come along shortly!/

NOT-AS-IMPORTANT-NOTE: B-day drabble requests and all other kinds of requests are still closed.

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A/N: Happy birthday Bacontheft (February 10)!

This is a sequel to "Duty", from the "Christmas drabbles 2011" and you need to read that before reading this.

Warnings: A/U, DARK, some squick, non-con/dub-don and so on, but I don't think it is dark in a "will make you feel bad" sense, because of Robin's attitude... but let me know if I am right...

NOTE: so I won't get reviews asking about it, I'd like you remind you that in universe, Slade killed Addie while she was still pregnant with Grant, so he has two eyes, as his darling wife never got a chance to shoot one out... ;)

Also, there was a plot-hole in the original story, which I fixed, thanks to DragonsDreamer, but if you were very quick about reading the chapter when it came out you might have read the one with the plot-hole so here it is: Shouldn't Robin have Slade-like powers if the experiment was successful? Yes, he should! I had forgotten to mention that the powers needed one final injection to activate, as a safety measure, but it's in there now... damn line was only in my head... So Robin only has his "usual" skills, I'm afraid… ;)

Disclaimer: the US Military is not exactly portrayed in a favorable light here… just remember that this is a part of it that's run by a very twisted Slade Wilson, and he has a way of rubbing off on people… no pun intended…

This is a bit over 24 pages long, so make sure that you have time to read it… ;)

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Responsibilities

Robin didn't know how long it had been since the General left, but it must have been at least an hour. He was curled up on the thin rubber mattress, shivering. What remained of the blue scrubs the man had ripped off his body were no longer wearable, but he had tried to cover up his private parts as well as he could. A few small scraps he had wiped himself with, the stains on them had been a mix of cum tinged pink with blood and had made him sick. He had made it to the wall-mounted toilet bowl just in time to empty his stomach into it, but only bile had come up. He didn't know when he had last eaten. He remembered being on a drip and at one point having a tube pushed down his throat, but the memories were hazy, distant, like they might have happened weeks ago, even though he didn't think it had been that long. Days at most. Probably.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He hadn't noticed that they were tightly shut, trying to shield him from reality, but he was not a quitter. He wouldn't give up. He frowned and, shaking a little still, sat up.

He began by analyzing the situation. He had been raped. People had lived through those things before, and so would he. He was a prisoner. He also wasn't naïve enough to think that he was the kind of prisoner that would get a trial. That it had all been a mistake had been a delusion, and one he had paid dearly for. He had tried to reason with the General when he had come in… if he had attacked at once, instead? Been ready to? Would he have been able to escape? If he hadn't held back at first when he and his team had been taken? Ordering to fight to the fullest, even though the men appeared to be U.S. military? Would Starfire and Beast Boy still be alive?

Robin took a couple of new, deep breaths. That was also a fact he had to accept. They were gone, and, in all likelihood, so was Raven and Cyborg. Could he have saved them?

He shook his head hard, trying to snap out of those thoughts. The guilt-trip could not help them and not him either.

He had to find out what had happened. The General had spoken about failures, implicating that they, the military, had somehow failed, which had led to his teammate's deaths, but how? Had they died at capture? Bad reaction to the drug, perhaps, or they might have been flying when hit by the darts and then crashed? Robin couldn't remember many details from the last minutes of the fight. Still, he didn't think that was it, he thought it must have been something afterwards…

He knew what he had been through, although he didn't understand what had been happening to him. He remembered a lot of pain and injections into every major muscle, even his heart. He remembered a needle entering his spine, and he remembered a thin drill working its way into his skull. The pain had been unbearable at times, and he had blacked out. He thought his heart would explode and at one point he was sure it had stopped… but that was only part of it. The rest he understood the meaning of better: they had tried to brainwash him. If he had done the same to the rest of his team… That was probably how they had died… and why Raven and Cyborg were… how had the General put it? Yes; that they didn't wish to see him… that they didn't 'socialize with traitors'.

He, a traitor? Robin snorted. The idea was as ludicrous as it was insulting, but it also struck some fear into his heart, because if he was a military prisoner and labeled a traitor… he wasn't likely to get much sympathy. So, if he was going to get out of here, he couldn't count on any help, only himself and whatever he could find around him.

His eyes searched the tiny cell again. The thin rubber mattress was fused to the bed itself and the piece of furniture was solid, without any space under it either, even though Robin didn't really think that hiding under the bed would help him. The small partition that shielded the toilet bowl and sink looked very well built, but he might try his hand at it later, because if he could pry something off it he had something to throw. The toilet and sink were made of metal and Robin didn't think he would be able to pry them off the wall.

The drain in the corner were no bigger than a shower-drain but had a metal grid. The teen walked over to it but discovered that it wasn't screwed but welded to the floor, and the rubber surface the whole room was cover in was glued over most of the edges too. The only reason he could see how hopeless it was to remove it was that someone else had had a similar idea before him and had gone to great lengths just to get a small piece of the rubber off. Robin kneeled down, wincing as pain shot up his spine, and frowned, running his fingertips over that particular area. Was those bite-marks? He glanced over at the other corner where he had found traces of scratching and blood earlier and shivered. How long had the previous occupants stayed here to make them resort to that? What had been done to them?

He looked up at the vents in the ceiling. They were high above his head and also much too tiny. He suspected that the metal covering them were also securely fastened, but maybe not. After all, a person was not supposed to be able to reach that far, but, on the other hand, this room was not designed for teenaged acrobats. Maybe if he jumped from the bed?

He took another step, a bit longer in his eagerness, and a new stab of pain had him hissing. He lowered himself slowly down on the bed again. He would try that, but not until he had healed a bit.

Then he swallowed. Who said he would ever be allowed to heal? What if this was the best he would feel? What if the General was on his way back? Pushing through the stabs, Robin climbed up on the bed and jumped. He missed, by far, because he had not dared push himself enough. He growled, berating himself or being afraid of a little pain. He had never been before, but, on the other hand, he had never had that kind of pain before either.

This time his fingers grazed one of the grids but they didn't budge. There wasn't enough room to hook fingers into them either, he discovered and he, after a few more jumps to make sure, gave up. Instead he attacked the partition wall, but that wouldn't as much as tremble either.

He was starting to feel dizzy and drank some water before curling up on the mattress again. It was chilly in the cell and without any real clothes or blankets he was shivering despite the exercise he had just gotten. He wasn't giving up, but he was so tired. He decided to try to get some rest because even though the room might not offer anything in the way of weapons, it still has weaknesses. They would have to feed him, which probably would happen through the hatch, and he was sure the door would open again, and that was the real weakness here: not the room, but the people. Even if it was the General, Robin knew he could fight him. The man had had the upper hand last time, but now the teen knew what kind of monster he was, and if it was something he was good at, it was fighting monsters.

---

When the door opened again, many hours later, it wasn't Slade but four strong-looking soldiers. Two of them came inside and the others were blocking the entrance. Robin had been asleep, he was stiff from the cold and the pain, but he didn't hesitate; he attacked.

"Ouff!" the first man went down with a kick to his abdomen. The second was more alert, but Robin ducked his fist and answered with a punch of his own, having the man taking a step back into his comrades.

"The sedative!" one of them barked.

"No! General Wilson wanted him to be awake," the one kneeling behind Robin hissed as he tried to catch his breath.

The three men now blocking the door made up a wall of flesh, but the teen didn't have time to realize that it would be very difficult to break through; he just had to do it. At least it wasn't difficult to hit them. His arm was grabbed, but he managed to twist out of the grip and smash his fist into his attackers face. The crunching sound had always made Robin wince before, no matter who was on the receiving end of it, but this time is sounded fantastic.

He heard the man behind him get up on his feet and was about to twist around to make sure he stayed down when one of the other soldiers yelled out an order.

"Clear!"

Immediately the others trying to grab him pulled away and something hit his chest. Robin just had time to recognize the dart-like electrodes of a M26 Taser before the pain hit him and he, in turn, hit the floor.

"I see why the General warned us about the little shrimp," he heard one of the men mutter as they bent over him and started to do something, although Robin wasn't too sure what. He couldn't move, his muscles made useless by the high voltage, but he hadn't blacked out.

"Yeah, me for one am glad he's gonna be awake… hope it will hurt, kid!" another one said and lifted Robin's head by the hair before slamming it down into the floor. His voice sounded a bit nasal, and Robin was pretty sure this was the guy he had hit in the face.

"Careful, don't bruise the whore. Let's just get him to the room, alright?" a third one scoffed, "And no sloppiness, he's clever too."

"This one?" the nasal-sounding one snorted.

"Yeah, saw the surveillance-tape of him checking out the cell," his colleague explained. "I'm glad General Slade designed these rooms, because then he can't blame us if he escapes…"

Robin listened carefully. So there were cameras? Good to know. And more rooms? More prisoners like him perhaps?

He was lifted up and dragged out of the cell and now he saw what had been done to him. He had been put in some sort of safety-harness, which was keeping his arms at his sides. His ankles were shackled as well, also in some kind of fabric-made fetters, but that didn't seem to make them less strong. Robin fought against them but, like a straightjacket, it only gave him minimal movement and nothing else.

"Settle down or you'll get the taser again," one of his handlers grunted.

Robin wouldn't, of course, and a few moments later the order to drop him was issued and a second after that pain was coursing through his body once more.

After that the teen couldn't fight, only worry about where they were taking him. What was this 'room'? What might hurt?

The scraps of clothes he had tied around himself had been ripped away, he also noticed now. Restrained, overpowered, unable to move and naked. He had faced better odds.

When they reached a door and one of the men opened it, Robin had recovered enough just to be able to raise his head. It looked like some sort of doctor's office, but it was windowless, and what the things he saw were, or was going to be used for, he had no idea. Maybe it was time for more of those drugs? More brainwashing?

There were another group of people here, dressed as a he would have expected hospital staff to be. A man wearing a white coat seemed to be in charge. He was in his late fifties or early sixties and turned around as the door opened, just snapping a pair of rubber gloves on.

"Ah, it took you some time. So this is the General's new whore?" he said as he peered at Robin over the rim of his wire-framed glasses. "I see whey the alterations had to be done, he's small, isn't he? Well. Welcome," Robin glared as the man now started to talk to him instead of about him. "This," the man continued, "is the grooming room. If you live you will soon get used to it and to us. Some things that will happen to you here might be unpleasant, but, I assure you, if you are being uncooperative, it will be much worse, understood? Now, what do we have here?" The man walked around him, studying something, and then nodded contently. "This will go quickly. Strap him to the table, front up."

Before Robin knew it he was being pulled down on what looked like a gynecologist's table. The people handling him worked in perfect synch and didn't give him as much as a microsecond to lash out. They had obviously done this before. Lots of times. The teen's legs were secured in stirrups which were adjustable so they would be able to move them individually as they pleased.

"Alright people! Slade wants him ready by tonight, so let's get started, shall we? We'll begin with the shaving."

Robin blinked. The what?

"Hey, what are-" he began. He knew pleading, or even speaking, to these people were a waste of time, so he hadn't said anything so far, besides, he had been too busy trying to pick up on any weaknesses in their defense, but enough was enough.

"Gag him."

A leather strap was forced between his teeth and tied behind his neck. It didn't do much in the way of dampening the sounds he could make, but he could no longer make himself understood, so he gave up trying.

"He's already very smooth. You two; take his arms and armpits," the man in the white coat said and then turned to three other assistants. "One leg each, and Smith, do the groin-area. I don't think his chest needs anything done to it and neither does his face. Maybe we have a late bloomer here."

"Nah, he's a traitor, those aren't real men, are they?" one of the guards who had fetched Robin snickered out of view. It seemed they had stayed as security.

The teen shivered as his body was covered in a cool foam before razorblades began to scrape along his skin. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he felt the same sensation on the inside of his thighs, working up towards a place where he really didn't want any sharp blades. He was so focused on staying perfectly still that he barely noticed the skilled way the other men moved the straps holding him down, so they could reach every bit of skin. Having his balls shaved was terrifying, but when his cheeks were spread and the blade moved between them as well, the terror was exchanged for a mortifying humiliation.

The only good thing, something Robin was grateful for, was that they worked quietly. There were taunting, but only from the guards, and the man with the glasses actually told them to be quiet and not disturb their work at one point.

He was being wiped off with moist towels when the doctor, or whatever he was, pulled up a metal stool and settled down between Robin's spread legs, pulling a tray on wheels with him. Tools of some kind where on that tray, but Robin couldn't see what they were, as he couldn't lift this head that far.

He yelped behind the gag, as, without warning, something slim and metallic, judging by the coldness of it, slipped into his ass.

"UUUnnngh!" Robin groaned and shook his head, because the thing inside him seemed to expand, stretching his sore muscles.

"He's not ripped. Minor external tears. Good. He's ready for the next phase."

Whatever was in his ass shrunk and was pulled out, before being put down on the tray with a clink. Again the men worked in synch, two of them releasing one of his arms, and the other ones arranging the stirrups. Those were lowered and pushed into another position as he was pulled by his arm over on his side, his knees pushed up slightly towards his chest. He tried to twist out of the hold, but his arm was soon secured again.

"I want half a bag in him at first, if he can take it," the man in charge ordered behind the teen's back, and Robin growled, remembering the drips he had gotten before and how they had burned through his body. But it wasn't a needle this time, and it wasn't pushed into his skin. Again he felt something slip into his ass, something bigger than the instrument, with a bulge at the end. He started to yell behind the gag, squirming as much as he could to get it out, but to no avail, and then his eyes widened. Something warm seemed to be filling him up! A liquid, water perhaps, was rushing into him.

"UUURRRGG! NNNEEEH!" he yelled as his rectum seemed to reach bursting-point. A hand landed on his stomach and started to rub it.

"He can take some more."

"NUUUGH!" Robin yelled and shook his head.

"Settle down," he was just told in a calm but unfeeling voice, like the man had spoken to an animal… one he didn't particularly care for.

"Now… what is his name?" the doctor asked an assistant who flipped through some papers.

"Robin, Sir."

"Now, Robin, we're going to remove the nozzle, and I want you to try to hold all of the liquid inside you. If you can't, you will just make a mess and we're going to have to do this again, understood?"

Robin nodded, he would agree to anything just as long as that thing came out of him. The little bulb plopped free and the teen clenched desperately.

"Very good. Now rest like that for a bit and then you will get to use the bathroom, alright?"

"NUW!" Robin said. "EEED IH NUW!"

"In just a moment," the man said, ignoring his muffled pleading.

After what seemed like an eternity the teen felt his restraints being lifted and he was helped from the table. Only his feet were shackled, with just enough leave so he could walk, but running away or fighting was the last thing on the young man's mind. He made it all the way to the toilet-bowl, if only just. Not until he had sat down on it, releasing the first burst of stinky water, did he realize that the bowl was attached to a wall in room, in view of everyone. He lowered his head, but moving away…? Not on his life.

"Start the ventilation, I think," the man said and Robin's face got even redder.

Every time he thought that he must be empty another round burst out of him, until he was shaking badly, as white as a ghost.

"I think that was all. One more time, a full bag this time," the man said and Robin panicked, trying to get away even though he barely had the strength to stand.

It didn't succeed of course, and he was back on the table, being wiped clean and then the nozzle was back inside him. He had tears streaming down his face now, but, obviously, nobody cared.

This is just another way to break me, he thought to himself. Just… just shut it out, All of it. Like the brain washing. Don't let them get to you.

He had thought that a whole bag would kill him, but he was emptier now, and it wasn't worse than the half-bag. Which didn't mean it wasn't horrible. The water coming out of him this time was cleaner, and the man in the coat seemed pleased but still ordered a small third round. Robin kept his eyes closed and tried to escape into himself.

At last they seemed to be done, because after having to empty his bowels one last time they had him down on his back on the table again. He was shivering and feeling sick, and suddenly he turned his head to the side and retched around the gag. Nothing came out but some dribbles of saliva, which was wiped away by one of, for lack of a better word, nurses.

"Bring him in."

Robin immediately tensed and opened his eyes. Who? The General? But no, instead a man with a shaved head and holding a big case came into view.

"Sure stinks in here. So what do you want and where do you want it?"

The doctor handed him a piece of paper.

"It's supposed to go here," he said and ran a finger along the top of Robin's shoulder.

"No problem, get his chest and neck tied down, I don't want him wrigglin'," the man nodded and went over to a desk to open his case. "T'will take 'bout forty five minutes or so."

Robin was secured further until he could barely breathe and then the man came over to him holding some sort of… drill? The teen panicked as the thing buzzed, but the man grinned.

"Just gonna give ya some ink, kid. Look at this pretty lill' picture," he held up the paper the doctor had shown him in front of Robin's face. "Our General Slade is a right son of a bitch, ain't he?" the man continued, but his voice was proud, not disapproving. "And you must be something special to get the extra decoration… don't go and die too soon, now, and spoil my work, will ya?"

Robin stared at the paper until it was snatched away, and he understood why the man had ordered the tattoo to go on his shoulder because the design consisted of four silver stars, the symbol of General, and under them, the words 'property of General Slade Wilson' in block letters. And this was supposed to be 'pretty'? He wondered what the others had gotten. The needle dug into his skin and Robin sucked in breath. It hurt, especially on the bonier parts, but it wasn't so bad he couldn't deal. It was almost, after everything else, relaxing.

He looked off into the distance while the tattoo-artist worked, staring at a part of the ceiling without really seeing it. This had to be over soon… it just had to.

"All done!"

Robin blinked like the voice had woke him up. He was actually a little bit disorientated as well.

"Good, then we'll finish up," he heard the doctor say and then the gag came off only to be replaced with some sort of brace which forced his jaws apart. Robin's heart rate was picking up again, but one of the 'nurses' only cleaned and polished his teeth. Still, the flossing hurt…

Before he knew it he was being dragged across the room again, this time into a large shower cubicle. His hands were attached to a bar above his head and his feet to one on the floor, but Robin was still not in much of a fighting-mood anyway. Hot water and being scrubbed everywhere with soft, soapy washcloths felt like heaven, and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes again, as his hair was washed as well.

He missed the warmth as soon as the shower was turned off, but two men rubbed him dry with towels so he didn't have to freeze. After that some warm kind of oil was applied, also everywhere, and then the doctor came up and inspected the work as Robin hung helplessly in front of him.

"He'll do just fine. The General wants him ready, however, so spread his legs."

The teen gasped around the gag as he saw the butt plug the man was holding. It wasn't the size of it, because it wasn't that wide, but the thought of having something inside him again after everything was not appealing at all. The doctor calmly applied a gel to the plug and inserted it, not caring about the teen's muffled objections.

"Would one of you go ask if it's done yet? The General wanted the boy to join him for dinner."

The mention of food made Robin's stomach growl, but the thought of eating made him feel sick. Or maybe it was the mention of the General… the man who had ordered all of this.

Five minutes later the nurse who had left to check on whatever it was, came back with a box in his hands.

"The altercations were just finished to his measurements," he informed his boss.

"Good, let's see how it all fits, then," the man nodded.

Robin could only watch as a black leather harness was unfolded and then fastened around his chest. It replaced the other one and was similar, although much more elaborate. It crossed his front and back in an 'x' shape and the leather had lots of little metal connector hooks and loops dotting it at even intervals.

Next a kind of sleeves were connected to the harness, only consisting of two thick strips of leather secured around his arms by straps, two around his upper arms and two around his lower, ending with one at his wrists. The thing after that looked like a cod-piece on a string, and that was also what it was, more or less. The front covered his genitals and the strap ran between his buttocks, pushing at the end of the plug. It was also secured to the harness with a few easy clicks. The 'legs' came next, and were constructed like the sleeves. The hooks and loops where everywhere, and the teen got a first taste of what they were for when his arms were lowered and attached to his sides.

One last leather strap was taken from the box, but the doctor stopped the nurse with a hand-gesture.

"No, he likes to do that part himself. Just secure his legs with the chains and take him away. Here. His performance report." The doctor put a thin folder into the box. The clinking from it told Robin that there were more than one chain in there, and then one of them, no longer than his lower arm, was pulled out and clicked to the straps around his ankles.

Someone brushed his hair and then he was apparently ready to go. As little as he wanted to stay in this room he also didn't want to meet the General again. Ever. But his legs were shaking and he felt more than a little woozy, his body hungry and tired, and his mind… it felt almost burned out. One of the guards grabbed the box and two others took his arms and walked him out of there.

"How long do you think he'll last?"

"The kid? A week. At most."

"You think we get to use him as target practice when the General is done? My aim needs a little work," another one said.

The gag hadn't been taken out so Robin couldn't reply. He just stared at the floor for now, and let himself be tugged along. If he ever got a chance he swore to himself that these men would be talking in a falsetto voice for the rest of their miserable lives.

Imagining his revenge made him feel a bit better and when they stopped outside an impressive-looking door, one of the men having knocked on it, Robin raised his head and narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't let the General see him beaten, because he wasn't. Far from it.

The General was sitting behind a desk as they came in; looking impeccable in a uniform just like the last time Robin had seen him. He didn't look up at first.

Fucking power-play, Robin growled to himself. Bruce had used the same method now and again. A rush of hope filled him when he thought of his mentor and the JL. It was strange that Batman hadn't warned him about this project, though; surely he would have at least heard rumors? They weren't in contact that often, but for something like this the damn man could have picked up a phone, right? The hope turned into cold fear when Robin realized that maybe the man couldn't…

When the General's eyes finally looked up, the teen met the gaze with his best glare. The man merely raised an eyebrow and then chuckled.

"Ah, Robin. I thought the day's activities would mellow you a little bit. Glad I was wrong,"

The man got up and walked slowly around the desk. Robin's body tensed and he strained against the guard's hold as every fiber in his body told him to run.

"Why is he gagged?" Slade was addressing the guards now.

"He was trying to ask a question or something, Sir,"

"Oh? And what did he say?"

"Um… I think…'hey, what are', Sir?" the guard said and looked around at his mates for confirmation. "Schmidt ordered the gag at once."

"Yes, he knows my rules. Robin, though, does not." The teen's chin was lifted in a firm grip, tilting his head so far back it hurt. "You do not talk to anyone but me without my permission," Slade informed him. "But you didn't know, so I'll be kind. Fifteen lashes, five for each word. Bend him over my desk, men. Private, give me your belt."

Robin struggled even though he knew it was hopeless, just to show the bastards that they couldn't just treat him however they liked… which they of course did anyway.

The first strike bit into his bare cheeks and hurt like hell. The man was not holding back and the sting was shocking.

"Remove the gag. Let's see if this bird sings," the General chuckled from behind him.

Robin was clever enough not to say anything, because he had a feeling that was what the man had hoped for, to be able to add to the strikes. He tried hard not to cry out either, but fifteen were a lot of pain. His whole behind and upper thighs burned like they had been stung by the long tendrils of a jelly-fish… one of the more poisonous kinds. His eyes had watered but he managed to keep his tears back, even though a gasp or a yelp escaped every other strike.

"Seems he's not much of a singer. Take him to the table," the General said. Robin could hear a mixture of disappointment and… was the man impressed? He didn't know, and he didn't care.

He hissed as he was slammed down onto a hard chair, his arms and legs getting attached to it, as this too had little metal looks set into the wood. Robin started to see a trend here and he didn't like it. Having to put any weight on the swelling welts was torture and the butt-plug also made itself known when he squirmed. He couldn't feel much of it otherwise, he discovered, and had actually almost forgotten that it was there.

"Dismissed."

The men left and Robin almost wanted to call them back. They might not be his best buddies in the world, but now he was alone with the General again.

"Send in lunch for two," the man ordered through a speakerphone and then turned his attention fully to Robin again. "So… Robin… What will I find in Doctor Schmidt's performance report, do you think? Have you been a good boy or do you have more strikes coming?" the man had grabbed the thin folder and sat down on the other side of the small table, across from the teen. He opened it and Robin could see him reading. He almost stopped breathing as the man's eyes moved over the pages. He hummed once and raised an eyebrow a time or two as well, but the teen didn't know him well enough to be able to read anything into it.

"Hmmm… not too bad for a first visit. They have dealt with worse. I want your next one to be without the gag and no fuss, though; I hope I make myself clear?"

Robin paled. Next one? The doctor guy had said something about that, hadn't he? The grooming room… the teen really didn't want to go back there.

"I suggest you answer me," the General said silkily.

"I suggest you eat crap," Robin growled.

"Such vile language. Didn't Batman raise you better? As Bruce Wayne at least?"

"You… Where is he? When he finds out-"

"Find out what? That you've been promoted from traitor to whore? I'm sure he has his own problems to deal with… in Guantanamo."

"What? Why is he-"

"Because he's a traitor. Like you," the General smirked. "I'd prefer to just kill the terrorists, especially as he was fighting to protect his friends in the Justice League, but… well… I have a feeling Guantanamo Bay detention camp will do the work for me."

"We're not traitors! We are heroes, we help people! I've helped save the whole damn world!" Robin snarled in the man's face.

"And yet, as your country needed you, you turned your back on her," the General pointed out.

"We're not soldiers! We don't go to war, we help, we don't kill!"

"Exactly. You ignore the threats your country stands before, you refuse to help. That's why you are traitors; that's why I've taken the option away from you."

"By brainwashing?" Robin growled. "You want a zombie-army?"

"Those are the best kinds."

"But…" Robin hesitated. Information was very important, he had to find out as much as he possibly could about what was going on, but he had a feeling that Slade wouldn't have many 'Q and A' sittings… so what did he really need to know?

"Why us?"

"You were wasting your powers. The US army needs them better," the man shrugged.

"Powers… meta-humans? You target meta-humans´? But Star's a… so was that why she didn't survive?"

"Yes. The serum given has a much lesser success rate on extraterrestrial DNA… You should have seen what happened to Superman. A pity. Even some meta-humans die, and so do humans."

"But… I didn't?" Robin tried to push the information about Clark away. He couldn't deal with grief right now, and he hoped his friends would forgive him. There would be time later. Hopefully.

"No. Which makes you special. And interesting. The serum worked perfectly on you."

"No, it didn't, I'm not brain-washed!" Robin objected.

"Ah… well… you don't need to know the details," the General said.

Robin's detective skills perked up. The man had unintentionally said more than he planned to, the teen knew it! There was something more to this serum, something he needed to find out… He had thought that it only made the person obey orders, but that couldn't be the case… the man was more guarded now, however, so it was important that Robin didn't let on that he had caught the slip.

"If humans… did Speedy…?" he said instead, changing the subject.

"Speedy? I recognize that silly name…" the General mumbled and looked thoughtful.

"Titan's East?" Robin said. "You got them too, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, before you. Yes, the Archer was human. He's probably dead or at the camp, it doesn't matter.

"It matters to me!" Robin yelled.

"No, it really doesn't. You are here, and here you will stay," Slade told him firmly. "I am the only one you have to concern yourself with from now on."

"Oh, lucky me," the teen drawled dryly.

"Glad you think so."

At that moment the food arrived, and even as the door opened the smell had Robin salivating. His hunger had taken over from the nausea, it seemed. A tray was placed before him, but with his hands attached to the arm-rests he could do nothing but look at the large portion of some kind of meat stew and potatoes.

"I normally would untie one arm, but you were pretty rude to me, if you recall," the General said as he dismissed the one bringing them the food and settled down to his own meal. "But feel free to go ahead."

Robin weighed the humiliation against his hunger and decided that he had been humiliated enough for one day.

"Thank you General, I think I'll pass," he said clearly.

"I told you that you can call me Slade, didn't I?" the man asked.

"Yes, you did," Robin nodded, recalling this himself now. "I think it's safest to stick with your rank, though, or else I might actually call something else…" he added with a smirk.

"And that would be?"

"A secret."

"I don't like secrets."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Robin said lightly. "I think I'll keep this one anyway."

The man gave him an amused look and then chuckled.

"I think I'll try to keep you around, little whore. You are entertaining."

"I know a very neat trick with a knife, just untie me and I'll show you," Robin smirked.

"Fine." the man reached over and undid the clasps connecting Robin's right arm to the chair. The teen blinked. Was the man stupid? Still, there was no time to think the man's reasons over as he grabbed the not-too-sharp dinner knife and plunged it into the man's arm.

"Ta-da!" he quipped as his free hand started to work on the bindings on his left arm.

"Neat. I know a trick too," the General said and calmly pulled the knife out of his flesh.

Robin was disturbed about the man's composure, and his own panic made his fingers slip. It wasn't as easy to undo the connector hooks when he couldn't see what he was doing, as his eyes were pinned on the man in front of him. He then noticed the injury he had caused and gasped. It was gone!

"You… you're a…?"

"Not born and bred, no. Made. By the very military I still so humbly serve. See, Robin? I wouldn't ask anyone to do something I wouldn't do."

"Yeah, so where is your brain-washing session?" the teen growled.

"Ah, some of us have to lead, you know…" the man said airily before he easily caught Robin's free hand and secured it again. He also redid the few hooks the teen had managed to open.

"There is something else behind this… Targeting meta-humans, people who might challenge you, is that it? You're planning something else, Slade, aren't you?" Robin growled. The man would probably kill him for that knife-stunt, so he didn't care about being subtle.

Unexpectedly General Slade sat back in his chair and stapled his fingers, studying him curiously and, if Robin wasn't mistaken, a bit warily.

"I think that if I do keep you alive, I better keep you close, little Robin… very close… those… fantasies of yours could be dangerous, after all…"

"Fantasies, huh? I was spot on, wasn't I? I think the president would be very interested in what I have to say."

"I make sure to keep you gagged for her visit, then," the man smirked.

Robin snorted, but didn't reply. He still waited for the man to reach for his own knife, and jumped a little when he did. The General saw this and chuckled.

"Don't be afraid, little bird-boy… I let you stab me, as a demonstration. You are a smart boy and I don't think you'll try something as foolish again, will you?"

"Maybe with a bazooka," Robin admitted.

"I won't let you play with one, then… it's not a weapon to usually use either, is it? You are partial to the bo-staff, I have gathered?"

Robin blinked. They were having polite conversation now? Well, anything to take his mind off his hunger and stinging ass.

"Yes?"

"I have had some training with that kind of weapon myself. Would you be interested in some sparring?"

"You ask this after beating me up and shoving a-" Robin stopped himself and blushed.

"Hm? Oh, the plug. No, I didn't mean today, my schedule is quite busy, but later in the week… if you are a good boy until then you might not even be bruised… until we begin, of course."

"I'd love to kick your ass," Robin shrugged. "But I didn't think it was part of my job description."

"No, normally my whores are only used for one or two things," Slade nodded, "But again… you are… special."

"Great," the teen muttered, but inside he was actually delighted. He knew now that escaping from his cell was hopeless, so the more he was let out, the better. Every minute outside, every scrap of information, was important.

"So, is it common for Generals to abduct teens and rape them or is that just your thing?" Robin asked in a pleasant conversational tone.

"You cannot be raped, Robin, you have the same status as an inflatable doll," the man smirked.

"I'd rather have its status than its IQ…" the teen snorted.

"Ah, comebacks… what a novelty. Well, I have something for you too," the man said and got up from his chair to walk over to the box of chains and things. He picked a new leather strap up, and the teen had a feeling that he knew where that one went.

It turned out that he was right, and Robin glared as the man tightened the collar around his throat.

"There. All done. Now, have you finished eating?"

Robin, who hadn't touched a thing, nodded.

"Good. Then I'll bring you back to your room. I'll come back this afternoon and… what did you want to call it? 'Rape' you."

"Oh, only if you have the time…" the teen muttered.

"Don't worry, I'll make you a priority," the man leered.

As they came out from the office a while later, Robin had his arms secured to his sides again, but the General let him walk freely next to him, except for a longer chain between his ankles.

"I could use the leash, but I think those are for the insecure owners," the man explained.

"What, so you trust me?" Robin almost chuckled.

"Of course not. I trust myself to be able to handle anything you might try," General Slade snorted.

Robin made a noise that could be interpreted as 'we'll see about that', but didn't comment any further, instead he focused on finding his way through the building, another crucial step on the way to an escape plan. They hadn't walked far before they entered a familiar hallway.

"This," the man gestured to a door, "Is your room." Robin glared a bit at the term, but the man continued on to the next door. "This, is the second room," he opened it and Robin looked in, almost afraid of what he might see. Another prisoner, he thought, but in what condition? But the room was empty, and it was also different from his. It had a better bed, with blankets and pillows, and it also had a more private toilet-facility and, the teen spotted, what looked like a radio set into the wall.

"I want to switch," he muttered.

"Good. That's the spirit, because this is the room good little inflatable dolls can live in," the man chuckled. "Behave and I'll move you in here."

Suddenly the room lost quite a lot of its appeal. The blankets still looked nice, though.

"I'll think about it," Robin said flatly.

"Good boy. Now, if you are really good…" the General opened the next door, and this room was bigger than the other two combined. It had a big, comfy-looking bed, and through an opend door Robin could see a real bathroom with a shower. One wall held a flat-screen TV, and, best of all, a large window. The glass was the thick reinforced kind, but still! It looked out over a walled-in courtyard and there were buildings and what appeared to be a small wood further back. This would be ideal for figuring out a way to escape, but Robin didn't want to think about how 'good' he had to be to be allowed to stay in there.

"This is, as you can see, the deluxe suite…" the General told him. "I wish you'll make it here one day, but I won't get my hopes up. No one has, so far."

"No one?" Robin blinked. He couldn't help but be curious, and concerned, when he heard about the ones who had been in his situation before him. "You do this often?"

"Oh, no… one every three to six months or so… when someone interesting comes along. My superiors appreciates the reports I send in… some of the punishments I have constructed have now been implemented in several correction facilities… and besides, they are grateful that I take care of some of the more useless traitors… the camps are getting crowded."

"Great, I'm not only a traitor, but useless too?" Robin snorted.

"Yes, now you're getting it," the man chuckled.

"I think I'll stay in the crappy room…" the teen muttered.

"Are you sure? Because if you are a bad boy, Robin, even that will be taken away from you… and you'll end up in the fourth room."

"Let me guess; it's full of snakes?" the teen growled.

"No, not quite…" the General smirked and gestured for him to come up to the next door. When that swung open, Robin made a gagging noise and stepped back. The smell was beyond nauseating.

"There's no light in here, I'm afraid," the man said as he pulled out a small but powerful LED flash-light from an inside pocket. He caught the teen's arm and pulled a reluctant Robin closer. As he was bound the teen was unable to cover his mouth and nose, something he sorely wanted to do, and his eyes widened as he saw what the light revealed. Bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. Some were still recognizable as humans, some mostly bones or decaying goo.

"This is where bad boys go, Robin… some for a day or two, some forever. I usually never tell them. Perry over there survived for a few weeks by eating on the fresher of his predecessors," the man told him and shone a light on a man, maybe around twenty five, who looked to have been dead about a month.

Robin decided then and there that screw his pride; he didn't want to be a bad boy.

"Maybe I'll go for the other rooms instead…" he whispered.

"That's what they all said after I started showing my guests this room," he man sighed. "But, as I said, I have hopes for you."

---

He hadn't been unchained when he was let back into his cell, but Robin didn't care much. He had carefully got down on the bed but could only lie on his back or flat on his stomach as his arms were in the way. His back, even with the welts from the beating, was the slightly more comfortable choice. His backside was still red, but didn't hurt as much anymore. The belt had been quite wide and hadn't caused too much damage, and Robin was good as ignoring pain even though it was there, something which had saved his life many times.

He was dead tired, his head spinning, but the day wasn't over as he very well knew. He fiddled with the harness trying to wriggle out of it, but he didn't try too hard. It would be stupid to show his watchers how flexible he really was, after all. The harness and its parts were very cleverly designed, because even though it should be easy to get out off, when Robin was tied like this, all the clasps were out of reach. A bit of acrobatics might do it, though, and freeing his feet from the chain would at least be easy. Still, he preferred to spend the time he had resting than wasting energy on something that wouldn't matter. He was still stuck in this room, after all, and he couldn't get out of the bonds without the guards alerting General Slade, so the surprise-aspect was out too.

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about what was coming up, but he had to. The man would do that to him again. And much too soon, the man was standing in the door.

"I've had a trying day, I must say, I hope you are ready to relax me."

"Maybe you could take a bubble bath? Do some Yoga?" Robin suggested half heartedly.

"Cute. But I don't have time for that; I have an evening meeting as well. Come."

"Already? Before you?" the teen quipped, but got on his feet. He decided not to push his luck too much.

The General only snorted and actually turned around to walk ahead. Robin's heart sped up, his body ready for any escape opportunity. The General paused and glanced over his shoulder.

"You are too smart to try anything that foolish."

Robin clenched his teeth and just followed, because General Slade was right.

"So where are you taking me?" he asked after a few steps.

"My bedroom. Your cell might do now and then, but I like to be comfortable and that place is barely fit for a human."

"I've noticed that," the teen muttered and rubbed his arms. He was still too cold for his own liking.

"Don't worry, I'll warm you up soon enough," the man smirked.

"I'd prefer a blanket. Blankets don't grunt and move when on top of me," the hero said.

"Well you can't have it all," Slade shrugged.

"Apparently you can."

"I stand corrected," the man admitted with a chuckle.

Robin hid a quick smirk. This Slade-guy was not impossible to influence, even if it seemed so at first. As long as you mainly kept to his rules it appeared that some disgruntled flattery might go a long way. The man liked his ego stroked almost as much as his cock, Robin bet.

The man's room wasn't far, and Robin had a feeling that that whole area, the cells, the office and the man's bedroom, were all the man's private 'wing' so to speak. The place itself could have been a middle-class hotel suite; it was that impersonal. Robin had been taught to be able to tell a lot about a person by his or her home, anyone usually could gather at least a few clues from that, but not in this case. Maybe if he had an opportunity to go through the book titles on the shelves, but he didn't have time before the man ushered him into a bedroom. He couldn't even tell if the man liked books or not; there weren't an abundance of them, but there weren't very few either…

The bedroom was much the same; very bare.

"Get on the bed."

"Maybe we could just snug-" Robin wasn't able to finish his proposal before he was grabbed and thrown on the bed, landing on his stomach. The man was behind him in an instant, pulling his hips up and undoing the strip of leather between the teen's legs from its back fastening.

"Wait! Stop, I have-" Robin called out, but the General grabbed the base of the plug and pulled it out of him, pushing in his own length almost simultaneously.

Robin was glad for the lubricant which was still inside him and the fact that he was already somewhat stretched, but it still took his breath away.

"I thought I told you I had a meeting. No time for niceties."

"There are niceties?" Robin muttered. It didn't hurt as much this time and the act itself wasn't as shocking, even though it still felt demeaning.

"Oh, I'll teach you eventually…" the man chuckled.

And he did.

About a week later the General had more than a moment to spare and took his time. Robin was surprised when he felt the first stirrings of pleasure as the man played with him, and completely shocked when he came. The look on his face, of disbelief and disgust, had Slade, as Robin was getting used to calling him, chuckling smugly.

"Don't look so distraught, pretty boy… I think you just earned yourself a blanket," the man grinned. They were in the General's bedroom again, Robin was usually brought here or to the office.

"I don't like my own body betraying me," Robin growled.

"My toys usually rage about them not being gay at this stage… why not you?" the man asked. He was stretched out next to the teen, caressing his body leisurely, running a finger around each star of Robin's tattoo.

"Why? It doesn't matter and there's nothing wrong with being gay," Robin shrugged, trying to get the touch to stop.

"I like the way you think… don't get me wrong, I like the way you clench even more, but…" the General leered.

The teen wouldn't let himself be goaded, however, and took the opportunity to just enjoy being warm. Sometimes, at night, when he woke up shivering, he wanted Slade to come for him just to be able to thaw. If the man had meant it when he'd said that Robin would get a blanket, it was actually worth the loss of pride.

"I don't have anything else planned until dinner," the General purred, his hand pausing on the teen's hip, the fingers digging in a little.

Robin sighed and resigned himself to another session. Slade could recover in no time, and the only reason the man ever stopped fucking him at all seemed to be to go to work.

"How about we take a shower?" the man suggested and Robin perked up. He had been taken to the grooming room twice more, but the last time was two days ago, and it wasn't easy to clean up in the chilly room with just a small sink and no towels. Being wet and cold was worse than being dirty and cold, even when you had drying cum running down the inside of your thighs.

The grooming sessions always ended with a shower, and Robin had learned to keep his mouth shut and behave, and another one of the things he had learned Slade wanted a demonstration of as soon as they stepped into the shower.

"On your knees."

Blowjobs. Robin had refused the first time and ended up strapped by his harness to a sort of rack, kneeling on the floor in the man's office. The General had then forced his mouth open, pushed an o-ring gag into it to keep him from biting, and proceeded to fuck his throat raw. It had hurt as much as the first rape, with the added fun of not being able to breathe very well. When it was over… it wasn't. Slade had left him there the whole day, and everyone who came into his office had been invited to use him… and it had been a busy day. Robin suspected that the janitor must have heard the rumor, because those florescent lights didn't seem to need changing. Robin had thrown up the whole night after that, and not refused the man since.

It wasn't that he couldn't take the pain, he was sure he could endure it if he had to, but choosing to make it easier on himself was not a sign of weakness. If he was to escape, and he was, Robin was convinced of this, then he couldn't be hurt, and he also needed to be somewhat trusted to behave, because he needed his guard's eyes off him, if only for a second…

So Robin sank to the floor and started to stroke the man's cock, furtively cleaning it off as much as he could first, before sliding his tongue up the underside in one long, slow, stroke. He was pretty sure that the man just wanted to be pleasured, not come, so he took his time before he let his lips engulf the head and he sucked gently, rolling his tongue around the tip and probing the slit. Slade knew when he was just trying to get him off as soon as possible, and, if that wasn't the order, Robin was punished for it.

"Now, there's some talent… stand."

Robin followed this order as well and was soon pressed against the tiles, getting kissed.

The kissing had been strange in the beginning; it had actually been a surprise when the man had first kissed him… Somehow using him like Slade did and kissing didn't really go together… But the teen had learned to accept this as well, and both challenge and yield to the man's tongue. His hands were even now caressing the man's arms, not with the enthusiasm of a true lover, of course, but not as awkwardly and reluctantly as they had in the beginning either. The General wanted a responsive toy, that much had become clear to Robin, and it didn't hurt to humor him, quite the opposite.

"Hmmm… seems like someone's getting interested again?" the man purred and Robin gasped as he pulled away slightly to look down on his half hard member, pressing into the man's thigh. What was this? He came once and now there was no way to turn it off, or what?

The man seemed to sense his irritation and chuckled.

"Don't blame it… it's perfectly normal, little Robin… reward it a bit… stroke it."

He had never been asked to pleasure himself in front of the man before and Robin actually felt himself soften a bit at the thought, but, as he knew, saying no was not an option. He started stroking himself as the General poured some shower-soap into his palms and turned the hero around, before running his hands over the teen's body. Being out of the harness was a nice feeling. He was usually wearing at least the chest-part and collar, but the leather wouldn't do well in the shower the teen guessed, so Slade had taken it off. Robin had spent many hours furtively practicing working the small hooks as quietly and quickly as he could, and he was now pretty sure that he could unsnap himself from several of the usual positions he was put in, as long as his arms weren't spread apart too much.

Robin gasped and threw his head back as the man's soapy finger slid inside his ass and curled, finding that treacherous spot inside him which had managed to override all his common sense earlier. His hand mover a bit more enthusiastically now and his eyes were closed as he leaned forward against the wall.

"Do you want something more?" the man purred.

"Mmm-mm…" the teen moaned.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Slade chuckled and entered him with a well-aimed thrust.

Robin got his hand up on the wall to brace himself just in time to avoid getting his face smashed into it. He leaned over a bit to get a bit more comfortable and yelped as a hand smacked his ass hard.

"Don't forget your cock," Slade told him and Robin discovered that his hand had been a bit idle the last couple of moments. He forced himself to continue and that sensation combined with the continuous stabs at his prostate was not only new, it was also almost overwhelming. Unintentional sounds were coming out of his mouth, sounds better suited for a porno than his situation, but Robin couldn't help it. Not long after he came for the second time that day, Slade following him almost instantly, which made Robin feel just a little bit dirtier for some reason.

He had just enough time to wash up before the man pulled him out of the shower and fucked him on the bed until his hair had almost dried. This time the teen didn't get hard, however, and the man didn't seem interested in it. Robin's pleasure was just an amusing side-effect, not really essential to the General's goals, after all.

However, that day earned Robin not only a blanket, but he was moved into the second room. He couldn't believe it at first; it was heaven! He loved the bed, and Robin had the radio and could keep up on news, listen to music and sports… and he wasn't cold anymore. This was all good, because Slade sometimes kept him locked up by himself for days when he was busy with work or let the compound. The presidential visit, which Robin hadn't been allowed to come anywhere near after all, was an example.

He was still careful, though; he knew that he must still be watched, especially as the fabrics in the room made it easier for him if he wanted to commit suicide, so, though he worked out to keep himself fit, he tried to act like he had resigned and was content in his role, which he, naturally, was anything but.

With the guards and the other outsiders he met, he was extra careful. He never spoke to them, as he wasn't allowed to, but he also never gave them any trouble now, not as much as a struggle, and was quick to obey every command they gave. It had had the desired effect too; from being very efficient and deadly serious about their work, they had relaxed and were barely holding him anymore. Robin could have made a run for it many times, but he was still waiting for the right time, because he knew that the escape attempt would, in one way or the other, be his last.

The weeks passed and Robin had recently finished breakfast one day, the tray given to him through the hatch in the door, when the door itself opened.

The hero placed the tray on the bed and stood up as Slade came in, looking at the man questioningly.

"Did you enjoy breakfast?" the General asked.

The teen blinked a bit as the man's usual conversation-starter were an order, not a question.

"Ummm… yes, thank you," he answered carefully. He had. The meals were always well prepared and he wasn't starved in any way or form. Slade was making him a bit nervous though. Had he broken a rule again? He glanced down at the tray, in case a utensil had slipped off it and he could be blamed for hiding it.

"Up for some sparring?"

Robin stared at the man in disbelief. The General hadn't followed through on the promise of some training until now and the teen had thought he never would.

"Yeah… of course!" Robin mood improved immediately, the pit of doom in his stomach being replaced by excitement.

"The loser will get his ass fucked, I hope that is clear?" the man smirked.

"You'll walk funny for the rest of the day then," the hero grinned.

"We'll see."

"Yeah… I'm not sure I could get it up for you…" Robin shrugged.

The sparring wasn't the only good news, however. The best news was that they were going outside, and, since it was chilly wherever they were, Robin was allowed to wear clothes and shoes. From the radio the teen had figured out that they were probably in the Washington DC-area he didn't know any more than that. The military issued training gear felt almost strange against his skin after, with the exception of the harness, being naked so long. The only thing left was the collar, which the man hadn't removed.

The outside air smelled divine, and Robin took great gulps of it. He had been led down several stairs to get here, but they were still in the General's more private part of the building, which meant there weren't that many people around… a very good place to escape from, if it hadn't been for Slade being in charge of guarding him.

The outside area was the walled-in courtyard he had spotted from the window in the third room. The walls were as tall as two Slade's but would offer almost no challenge to Robin, he knew. He had instantly noticed the unevenness of the stone which would give him the grip he would need to climb it. He doubted that anyone without his training would be able to follow, especially if they were heavier than him. This might be the day, although this was a new situation for them to be in, so he thought that Slade was probably very alert… on the other hand he couldn't be sure the man was ever going to let him out here again… Robin pushed down on his instincts to run as much as he could and caught the bamboo-staff Slade threw him. It was a crude weapon compared to his own metal one, but this was where he had started once upon a time, and he felt confident in his abilities.

"We are both out of practice, so let's warm up for a bit, shall we?" the man proposed.

Robin nodded, but smirked on the inside, it might have been long since he wielded a weapon, but he had never felt more ready or eager to do it. Actually, he had never looked forwards to hurting someone like this… He then reminded himself that he had no idea about Slade's skill, and shouldn't underestimate the man. The General was dressed in his usual spot-free uniform but had taken off his jacket to be a bit less constricted, Robin assumed.

They took up their stances and, after sharing a nod, charged.

Robin wanted to hurt, yes, but he didn't want to get hurt. A broken ankle or wrist now, even as much as a broken finger, would be devastating to his plans. He ducked under the man's first swing and jumped over the next one, trying to judge the man's style. Slade was mostly about speed and brute force, but he also had an uncanny ability to know where Robin was going to strike and block him. The teen suspected that this had something to do with his meta-human abilities, because it went above the normal human reaction-time. No matter, though; he had fought men and women on those terms before and won.

They fought for over an hour, starting slow and getting more and more intense. Robin loved it. He loved every time his bo-staff as much as grazed the man's skin, and even more when it left a bruise. He even loved the strikes that hit him, although he preferred the ones he avoided, of course… it was the challenge that the sense of joy came from. The feeling of difficulty, of fighting someone that actually made him push himself to do better. Judging by the grin on the man's face he was thinking along the same lines.

The fight had to end eventually, however, and Robin didn't want Slade to find out just how good he really was at this point. He had been fighting full out, but held back on the acrobatics and kicks, which were usually the moves that won the fights. He couldn't win this one, though; he had known that from the start… he must let Slade win, as that would put the man's mind at ease. On the other hand, he couldn't throw the match so the General noticed it… thankfully the cobbled yard also had some gravel here and there, and the pebbles had already caused their feet to slide on several occasions. Robin therefore landed in a way he knew would cause this, and as one of his feet slipped badly, Slade struck.

The next instant the teen was on his back with the blunt end of the General's bo-staff pressed into his neck.

"Game over," Slade smirked.

Robin let his staff go and raised his hands in front of him in as a sign of defeat. The General reached down with a hand and Robin grabbed it, surprised at the gesture. He didn't have to fake his excitement over the fight as his eyes shone with it.

"Again!" he grinned.

"I think it's time for the loser to walk funny," Slade chuckled.

"Well… can we do it again some other day then?" Robin asked, his heart thumping as he feared a 'no'.

"It was quite entertaining. How are you at other weapons?"

"I've mostly been trained in hand-to-hand. Why?" the teen asked.

"I have a particular love of sword-fighting, but I rarely meet anyone that can give me a challenge. I have a feeling you could be it."

Robin almost felt embarrassed at the praise.

"Well, I've had some basic training with a katana and a short-sword, but…" he said.

"Would you allow me to teach you?"

Robin, sensing the amount of opportunities regular training-sessions would give him nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sure!"

"Good, we might… if you show some of that enthusiasm after our shower," the man chuckled.

"Sir?" a voice rang out, and Slade turned to a soldier who had appeared at one of the gates leading out of the courtyard.

"Yes?"

"The initiation… you wanted to supervise it, Sir?"

"Oh, it seems I forgot about the time," the man admitted and gave Robin a thoughtful look. "Well, you can come too. I think you might appreciate it."

Robin had no idea what was going on, but anything was better than getting molested so he followed at the General's heels. They entered yet another courtyard, this one huge, and it had about fifty people lined up.

"Cyborg!" Robin couldn't stop his exclamation, and his neck was grabbed as he took a few steps forward.

"Behave."

Robin barely heard the order; his eyes were glued to his old friend who was standing to attention no more than a few steps away.

"He doesn't know who you are," the General told him, and Robin knew that it was true. His friend's eyes hadn't at much as flickered, and he was staring straight ahead like a zombie. So were all of them. Robin's eyes scanned the line, seeing some familiar faces here and there. They were all dressed the same, in uniform, and only their sizes and genders differed.

"Wh-where's Raven?"

"I don't keep track of you former friends," the General snorted, but repeated the question to a Captain who seemed to be in charge.

"She didn't make it through training, Sir. Late bad reaction to the treatments," they were told.

Robin's hands curled into fists and he took a deep breath to keep his grief down. He hadn't let any of it out yet… he just couldn't.

"Well, are we ready to start?" the teen heard a now very familiar voice ask as Doctor Schmidt came up to them, wearing a jacket over his white coat.

"Yes, Doctor, the activation-drug is right here," the Captain said and gestured to a case a soldier was holding.

Robin's attention was suddenly all on the men and that case. Activation-drug? Slade had said that the treatment had worked on him, and during the weeks he had learned more by listening to his guard's talking. It seemed that the Meta-recruits all gained some of Slade's powers of healing and strength but he wasn't any stronger than before. Was this what was missing? He tried to act like he wasn't paying any attention to anything but Cyborg and the other faces he knew. That was Jinx, he thought, and… at the very end of the line… that pale skin and black eyes could only be Aqualad, right?

"Attention soldiers!" Slade's strong voice boomed over the courtyard. "Your weeks of tests and training are finally at an end. Not all of you made it, but those of you who are here today are the strongest ones, the ones who will stand between the U.S. and the anarchy and terrorism of the world. I am proud of you. Doctor? Proceed."

The teen wanted to gag at the speech but the chests of the brainwashed soldiers seemed to swell with pride.

Out of the corner of his eye the teen followed the doctor as he was handed the syringes and administered each shot. There was no finesse to it, he just plunged the needle into each person's arm, through the uniform and everything. Robin watched for reactions to the drug and it was there, but not in an obvious, growling hulk-like fashion, just in the stances and eyes of the poor zombies… like a light switch had been flicked on. Unfortunately it wasn't the switch to their brains and memories.

Schmidt was handed a set of four or five syringes each time from the soldier, and the empty ones were put back in the case after use. Once they came to the end of the line, quite far from Robin and Slade, they seemed to run out of patients, however.

"Two died in an exercise this very morning," Robin heard the Captain explain, just as Slade decided to walk over to the men, with a grip around the teen's neck.

"Doctor?" the General called out.

"Yes, Sir?" Schmidt said and, Robin noticed, put the packet with the unused syringes into his pocket.

"Time seemed to have run away from me. Would you take Robin to the grooming room and clean him up? Have him ready in an hour, I have a phone-meeting in a few minutes."

"Of course, Sir. Should he be delivered to your office or your rooms?"

"My rooms. Good. Look after him. Some of these soldiers used to be friends of his and he might be a bit… upset."

Robin kept his eyes on the ground, knowing that that was the man's way of warning the doctor and the guards that he might do something stupid. Instead the teen tried to wipe every trace of anger and rebellion from his appearance and just seem resigned and meek.

"You are going to be a good boy, right Robin?" the General asked him, and as it was a direct question, Robin raised his sad eyes and answered.

"Yes, Sir," he said quietly, hoping his act fooled someone.

It did seem to satisfy Slade.

A few guards surrounded him as usual, but the General's words of warning didn't seem to have really sunk in with them, to Robin's delight. He was taken to the grooming-room, the doctor leading the way, and the teen had his eyes on the pocket of the man's jacket all the way. As they got into the room the man put the jacket over the back of a chair and looked around.

"I'm going to go call my staff," he told the guards. "Make sure he is undressed until I come back."

Robin's heart was pounding as he watched the doctor leave. He was very close to what just might be the answer to his prayers, but how to get to it? As the guards turned towards him to follow the doctor's orders, Robin unzipped his jogging-suit jacket and placed it on the same chair the doctor's jacket was on. The guards stepped back, as it was clear that the kid was going to do their work for them. The t-shirt was next, and Robin pretended to drop it, sliding a hand into the pocket of Schmidt's jacket as he bent down to retrieve it. He stayed down to unlace his shoes, and watched his guards beginning to speak about some game or other that was on that evening. While one hand was working on his laces the other one was deftly sliding a syringe from its holster, and when Robin stood up, it was hidden in the palm of his hand.

There was no way of giving himself the shot in the arm without being obvious, but having watched the sloppy way the doctor had administered the injections, Robin didn't think the area mattered much. So, as he pushed his sweat-pants off, he pushed the needle into his thigh.

It stung, but he emptied it quickly, and as he was lifting his feet to get the trousers off, he returned the now empty syringe to the pocket.

There was that problem, however; it was empty. That would not go unnoticed, but neither would the disappearance of it. The teen, however, had a plan, and, as he was getting out of his underwear he pretended to lose his balance, just as the doctor came back into the room. He cried out as he fell and grabbed the chair for support, but, just as he had planned, the chair fell as well. There was a crunching sound as the heel of the teen's palm came down on top of the hidden syringes.

The doctor seemed to understand what the sound meant, and cursed slightly as he hurried up, yanking Robin to his feet and picking up his jacket to inspect the damage.

"All broken," the man muttered and gave the teen a glare.

"I'm sorry!" Robin spluttered and then slapped a hand over his mouth, looking panicked.

It was a gamble, he knew, and he risked having Slade beating him for speaking, but he hoped the role of remorseful puppy, trying to be forgiven, would convince the doctor that Robin was afraid of being punished for speaking, not for anything else.

"He just tripped, doc," one of the guards said, unknowingly coming to Robin's rescue.

"Yeah, we kept an eye on him, he was just undressing," another one lied. He had in fact been checking his phone when Robin had 'stumbled'.

"Fine, you, get into the shower," the doctor said sternly to the teen,

Robin gestured at his collar and the man nodded his permission to undo it. Robin pretended to struggle with it, in fact he could have it done in a tenth of a second by now, but finally managed and hurried to obey the man. The nurses had followed in the doctor's wake and were ordered to only clean and shave him this time. Robin endured the very personal touching with a song in his heart, because he could feel the drug working. He had noticed it almost instantly; a rush going through his every cell like his batteries had been recharged when he hadn't even realized that they were running low. It was an amazing feeling and it was very hard to hide.

Somehow he managed, however, and when he was being led to Slade's room, wearing the full harness once more, as someone had been sent to fetch it, he started to worry about how long he was being able to keep it up. He was bursting with power, but now was not the time to use it, not in here, with so many doors and guards between him and freedom, but the General would know that he was nervous about something... Just before the door to the man's rooms opened, Robin realized that he had something else to act nervous about.

As the guards dropped him off, Slade was just getting off the phone and, as usual, he reached for the performance report first thing.

"So, what will this say this time?" he asked the teen.

"I spoke!" Robin blurted out, letting all his nervousness shine through. Slade couldn't know that he was nervous about his new power, not about getting punished.

"You did? Such a bad boy," the man said arching an eyebrow.

"I tripped and I broke something, I don't know what, but he was mad and I said I was sorry… it just slipped out," Robin continued hurriedly to explain. Then a cold sense of dread gripped him. No, he wasn't worried about getting the belt again, it had happened a few times since that first time, but… the welts. Slade would notice them healing.

Shit.

Robin was as tense as a bowstring, although, again, the man didn't know the actual reason for it.

"Hmm… so what did you say?" Slade wanted to know.

"I said' I'm sorry'" Robin admitted dejectedly.

"I'm going to count that as three words. Which means…?"

"Fifteen strikes, Sir?" Robin asked, wondering if he should try to make a break for it right now.

"Yes. However, the good doctor seems to have forgotten to mention it in his report, so… I'm going to let you get away with it this time."

"You are?" Robin blinked.

"Yes. But I'm going to have a talk to Schmidt, and, trust me, from now on he will report if you as much as breathe out of rhythm."

Robin nodded, relieved beyond words. He hoped he would be able to escape before his next visit to the grooming room, however, because he had a feeling that the Doctor would have a bone to pick with him.

"Thank you." he mumbled.

"Besides, I again find myself short on time," the man shrugged, the real reason behind his benevolence explained. "On the bed. And try to make up for being a boy and only having two holes to fuck."

---

Robin knew the drug was working because even though Slade had him chained up in his room until after work and then fucked him all night, he wasn't sore in the morning. He made sure to wince a bit, though, so it would seem he was.

The General seemed to be in a good mood, which wasn't all that surprising after that night, and suggested another sparring session that very afternoon, putting Robin in a very good mood as well. He had to wait all day in his cell for the man to have time with him, however, which was very difficult when all he wanted to do was to try out his powers. He couldn't as much as try to balance on just one finger, though, something he just had a feeling he could manage with his new strength, because the guards would be watching… even fighting Slade he wouldn't be able to go 'all out', he knew.

He was still quivering with excitement as he was facing the man on the courtyard once more. This time they were both holding swords. Robin didn't know what they were called, but his felt light and well balanced in his hand, and that was what mattered.

He was paying attention to Slade who was talking him through some basic moves, and then they began, just practicing those moves first, before moving on to some actual sparring. Slade with a sword in his hand was deadlier than with a staff, the teen discovered. He was even quicker, and Robin had to focus on not dodging too quickly. It was a strange feeling holding his abilities back like that, and maybe he was doing it a little too well, because suddenly the tip of the man's blade scratched the bridge of his hand.

Robin hissed and danced away, while the man smirked.

"Do try to pay attention, Robin. I know it's distracting, longing for the fuck that's waiting for you, but-" the man's eyes suddenly narrowed.

The General was looking at his hand, and the teen glanced down. He had unconsciously brushed the blood off, not realizing that that would only leave his healed skin behind as the actual wound had been very shallow. And Slade had noticed. The man's eyes snapped back to his.

"Um. Surprise?" Robin tried, grinning weakly.

"Let's see how much of a surprise," the man growled and attacked.

The hero knew that his opportunity to pick a perfect time to escape had come and gone. It was now or never, because Slade would never let him out of his sight knowing the kind of power Robin had. The man would probably not let him live at all.

He ducked the swing and threw himself away out of reach to regroup a bit. The man didn't give him much time, however, and Robin found himself going from rather friendly sparring to fighting for his life with a weapon he wasn't so familiar with. At least now he could use his full potential, and that kept him from getting more than minor cuts. He gave back too, but he knew that the only way to hurt the man enough to be able to get away would be to go for his neck or spine. Robin had a feeling those didn't heal that quickly.

The teen focused too much on the man's blade, however, to see the kick in time. The foot to his abdomen had him flat on his back, wheezing for air, and the man raised his sword with a triumphant smirk. The acrobat in the teen kicked into gear, though, and Robin pushed off from the ground with his heels, blocking the man's sword-arm with his feet before flipping around and getting up. He had barely landed on his feet before he jumped, seeing an opening in the man's defense. He had miscalculated his own strength, though, and his jump was too high for him to strike properly. Instead of hitting the side of the neck, the tip of Robin's blade grazed the man's right temple. It gave the teen an idea however, and he followed through, pushing just a tad more, watching the blade slide through the flesh and into the eye socket.

The opportunity to skewer the man's head completely was lost as his blade was caught in a bare hand, and snapped. Robin heard the man's roar of pain, the most beautiful sound he had ever experienced, but didn't hang around to enjoy the moment, The man was temporarily blinded, as the gushing blood had gotten into his only remaining eye, but the key word here was 'temporary' and Robin knew better than to try to finish him off with little more than a sword handle. Instead he headed for the wall, scaling it like a squirrel. He ran along it, and then jumped from roof to roof before he came to the edge of the compound. Outside there was a wooden area and beyond that, far in the distance, a city. Robin didn't know what city, but he knew he needed to get there. One tree grew close enough for him to reach a branch, and he made it to the ground without any calls of alarm being heard. This was not a military prison, after all, but a treatment and training-facility, and the security could have been better. The next moment an alarm did go off, and Robin, who was running flat out, ran a little faster still.

When something is on the horizon, it means it's very far away, that much Robin learned during the next two hours. He had run until he couldn't run anymore and was now walking quickly instead. The trees had soon ended, and with them the shelter. Here it was pretty much open wasteland, and he tried to keep low so what bushes there were hopefully hid him. The good thing was that there were no roads, he had steered clear of them, but that, on the other hand, made it hard to walk. There were paths here and there, maybe used by the soldiers when they were exercising, but they all seemed to lead back to the base after a while, and Robin had already wasted time accidently almost going in an circle by following them.

The sun was beginning to set, but the lights from the city showed him in what direction to walk, even though they did nothing to help him see the holes and rocks ahead of him. He had stumbled and actually fallen to his knees when he heard something behind him. Someone was heading towards him, and quickly. Run or hide? Even though he was tired, the surroundings didn't offer much for him to go with the second option, so he chose to run. Almost instantly the light from a flashlight hit his back.

"You are very easy to track, Robin."

The teen froze. Guards, yes, but him? He spun around and shielded his eyes. The light was switched off, and the world seemed a much darker place than it had moments ago. Most of that was probably due to the fact that it now had Slade in it.

The General had a patch of surgical tape over his eye-socket but didn't seem much worse for wear. The cut down over his brow had healed and was gone, and the blood had been mostly wiped away.

"How… how did you…?" Robin just had to ask.

"Silly little whore," the man smirked. "When I gave the meta-humans my powers, did you really think I'd give them more than me? True, the drug enhances their own natural powers as well, and gives them a rather powerful healing ability, but I sure as hell can outrun a little boy in my own back yard."

"I won't go back," Robin growled, tensing for a fight.

"Who said I want you to?" the man asked and raised a gun.

The teen made a decision then and there. He wouldn't just be gunned down like a dog. He attacked, and as the bullets smashed into his chest he took pride in the fact that he at least had died fighting. And free.

The End (?)

---

A/N: This story might end here. Or not. That's up to the one's who has b-days booked, as usual… ;) If your b-day happens to be within three months and you are one of those I have promised a b-day drabble, let me know if you want more of this (you are allowed to change your wish if you already made one). It's first come first serve, because I don't THINK I have enough ideas for more than one more sequel. And it probably won't be as long as this one, because this was a monster. ;)

If no one within three months wants a sequel, it will of course be open to the rest of you as well!