Happy B-day xBlackWolf5x (November 2)

This is the third part of the universe that started with "Duty" in the "Christmas Drabbles 2011" and continued with "Responsibilities", drabble 139 in Delightful Drabbles. You might want to glance through at least the second part again, to remind you of what happened… ;)

WARNING! This is dark! I'm NOT hesitating about the warning this time. The warning is mostly about angst/psychological torture, though. Mostly. ;)

Obligations

The first thing Robin noticed as he woke up, even before opening his eyes, was the smell. The putrid air seemed to stab not only his nose and stomach, but his brain as well. He fought to keep the contents of his stomach down as he looked up. Nothing. It was completely dark. He sat up and felt around. His hand came into contact with something on the floor next to him. His fingers brushed lumps and bumps which his brain mapped out and recognized. A face. A cold face.

Robin already knew where he was. The smell had told him, but, until now, he had hoped… but he was in the fourth room. The death room. The place General Slade put his toys once he'd tired of them. He was here to die. How come he wasn't already dead, though? He had run straight into a rain of bullets, and he still remembered the pain of them slamming into him... and especially the ones that had ripped out his back. He felt his chest. He remembered having worn clothes when he had escaped, sweats and shoes, but now he was naked. His fingers tracing his skin couldn't find a single scar, and nothing hurt. Then he found that one thing hadn't been taken off; the collar. He had forgotten all about it as he escaped, but now he ripped it off as quickly as he could and threw it away. By the sound of it, it hit a wall not far in front of him.

Now what? Keep thinking. Keep going. He had to or he would go insane. He would start wondering about the fact that if he hadn't died from bullets to his chest, would he ever die in here? How long would it take to starve to death in a body that kept repairing itself? Robin shook his head and stood up. Find the door. That's it. Find the door. He remembered that none of the bodies had been right inside it, so there should be a space there for him to keep to. And, of course, if the door ever opened, he could try to escape again. Robin let out a bitter laugh at himself for that thought. He'd never escape. He had gouged General Slade's eye out, after all, unless it had somehow grown back, and he knew he was here to stay. But still. Optimism. Important.

He slowly shuffled forward, holding his hands out in front of him, hoping to find a wall. His feet sometimes came in contact with... things, and then he turned slightly and moved on. After a while he realized that this room was too small for him not to have reached a wall yet; he was going in circles, because he kept turning away from the corpses. He took a few resolute steps forward and then stepped on something soft, slipping. The hand he threw out to catch himself on, didn't hit the floor, but a body, and it sank right through the rotten flesh. Robin yelled out in disgust and yanked his arm back, only to have his hand stuck in something which had to be the poor man's rib-cage. His hand had apparently went through his stomach.

The stench increased even more, something the teen would have thought was impossible, and he retched from it. He tried to wipe his hand off on the corpse, but it didn't seem to be wearing clothes either, and its skin peeled off like on a hot, grilled chicken. Robin reared back, and half crawled, half walked away.

Suddenly he stumbled again, but this time his head slammed into a wall, which was, considering the circumstances, welcome. It took some time, but finally he was convinced that he had found the door. There was an edge, although no light, and he mapped out an area clear of dead bodies before he sat down again, his back against the door he doubted would ever open.

He felt tears running down his cheeks, from the smell and the shock. As long as he was crying, he finally let his defenses down and mourned for his friends and family. He didn't know for how long he cried, but he suddenly found himself waking up, only to start all over again. When he stopped it wasn't because he was feeling better; he simply was too empty to go on.

There had to be some kind of ventilation in the room, Robin decided. He had been here for a long time now, days, he thought, and he was slumped against the wall still, weak from lack of food and especially water. He knew a human being couldn't survive long without something to drink, and wondered, once more, if his new found powers would prolong the suffering or not. Surely his body would shut down at one point, go into some sort of coma. That would be nice. But the ventilation, then; there must be some, he figured, because even though the stench was bad, the gasses the fresh enough corpses were producing didn't kill him. Or, perhaps they were, it was just that his abilities were saving him? No, he still put his money on ventilation, or it probably wouldn't have been safe to open the door at all.

The room was completely quiet, or at least so he had thought at first. Sometimes there was a wet sound or a rustle as a body fell in on itself, but that was all.

Then he had began noticing it.

The first time was when he had been trying to fall asleep; sounds were always louder when you were trying to shut your brain off, after all. It had been a weird one, almost a murmur. At first he had thought it was mechanical, but it didn't sound right. When he finally understood what he was hearing he had dry heaved, his stomach long since empty. What he was hearing was the sound of chewing. Millions of tiny mouths, eating away at the bodies around him. Maggots. Maybe a single fly had came in when Slade had shown him the room the first time, maybe even when he had been put here himself, and now its offspring was feasting. The lack of adult flies was what made him think it was probably recent, but now and then he had heard a strange buzzing as well. He didn't know if the insects could fly in complete darkness, maybe not. Maybe the things he had brushed off himself now and then weren't spiders, but crawling flies, as blind as he was, looking for food. For a long time after the discovery, all he could hear was the chewing. Maybe he would be eaten as well, if he got too weak to move.

He had yelled and screamed as well, in the beginning. He didn't know if there were cameras in here, heat vision in that case since not even night vision cameras worked with no light at all. No light, of course, also meant that he still couldn't see as much as his hand in front of his face. But did the General watch his prisoners die? Did he listen to their panicked cries? Robin didn't know, but he had stilled begged in the end. Begged to be let out. Promising to be good. Promising anything and everything. But no one came and, eventually, he gave up.

Robin jerked awake. He had been sleeping again, curled up against the wall. Immediately the pain was back. It was getting worse, spreading through his body. It had started in his stomach, as hunger. But it wasn't hunger anymore. He should be dead, he knew that. It was like his body was trying to eat itself from the inside, breaking down anything it could to desperately try to feed a heart that refused to stop beating. Robin gave a dry sob as his head sank down again. Something had woken him, but what? Then he felt it once more: a wriggling movement against his hand. He drew it back, but then, carefully, felt the floor in front of him. Maggots. Three, no four. His fingers closed over one and he thought the thought once more, something he had considered for a while now. He wouldn't eat rotting human flesh, he'd rather die in this pain, but...

"Maggots are a good source of protein," he whispered to himself. He didn't know exactly when he had begun having his internal conversations out loud, but it did drench out the chewing, and the buzzing of the wings of the flightless flies. It seemed they couldn't fly in the dark, after all. Interesting. "No ketchup, though," he added and flicked the creature away. He couldn't. The insects had eaten humans, after all, and... "It's not really worth it... I'd just stay alive a little longer... and it's been far too long already..." Robin hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I wonder how long? Many days... maybe... two weeks? Three? Why can't I just die!?" the last sentence came out as a scream, and he curled in on himself once more, almost afraid. "No... no... it's okay... I'll... I'll just sleep... Anger is... anger is bad. I don't want to be angry... I don't want to care... I... I don't care... Escape... hah! Like searching for those vents. That went well... hah! Went well... I'm funny... no, it's... stupid... at least I found my collar..." Robin fingered the leather strap which was, once more, around his neck. "He let me keep it... better not lose it... don't make him angry... maybe he's angry because I'm not dead yet... I'm not dead, am I? No. Pulse is there. Not dead. Maybe he'll come when I'm dead? I should hurry up. But hurrying didn't work..."

Robin thought back to when he had found one of the bodies which had dried up, only mostly a skeleton left. He had, in a moment of desperation, pulled one of the femurs away, and, by using his knee, he had then broken the tip off. He still had the added strength the serum had given him, although that had been useless in here so far. The remaining piece of bone had been long, the end somewhat sharp, and, after securing it in a standing position with the help of the corpse's ribcage, he had thrown himself down on it. The bone had gone through his stomach, not his chest, a bit of a miscalculation, and he had woken up healed, the bone somehow having been pushed out of his body in the healing process. He didn't try it again.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to die. He'd see his team again, after all, except perhaps Cyborg. And his parents. Maybe Bruce and Alfred. He would get out of here, just not in his body. He smiled. It was a nice thought. He'd escape.

"Yeah, Slade, I'm escaping as we speak!" he chuckled to himself. "Just a little longer now and I'll be free!"

It was cold. That was wrong, because the fourth room was neither hot nor cold, not as long as he'd been there anyway. He rolled over and smelled rubber. Rubber and... nothing else? Robin opened his eyes, and the world around him seemed to explode with light and color after so long in the dark. This was the first room, the one where he had met the General. He was back? He... Robin looked down on himself. He was wearing the harness again, his skin smelled clean, he was shaven everywhere like he had just gotten back from the grooming room. His hand touched his stomach, which had been sunken in the last time he had felt it, but now it was... normal. His skin was looking healthy, he felt healthy, like he had a nice meal, some light exercise and was now just waking up from a nap. Even his breath tasted minty, and his nails were clipped and sparkling clean.

Robin sat up carefully. Even though he was wearing the harness it wasn't attached to his arms and legs, leaving him free to move, and he, very slowly, got to his feet. He wasn't dizzy. He didn't wobble. He was fine. Perfectly fine. Better than fine. Strong. Like he would be able to do anyth-

No! No, he couldn't think like that. He couldn't be a threat, he didn't want to be. Being a threat to Slade... nothing good could come of that.

"Fuck..." The word escaped his inner censors, not that any of them had been working overtime since he and his team had been taken. 'Darn it' just didn't cut it sometimes, after all. He sank back down on the rubber mattress, hugged his knees to his chest, and waited.

When the door opened, Robin didn't move, only raised his eyes to meet the General's. The man wore a black patch over the destroyed eye, so perhaps, Robin figured, his healing abilities couldn't restore it. The teen didn't know how to feel about that. His old self wanted to smirk and ask the man if he lost something, but his new self was shivering in fear of the retribution.

When the man didn't say something first, Robin opened his mouth.

"So... are... are you... starting over? Am... am I... going back?" The thought had occurred to him that maybe the man thought he was dying too quickly after all.

"That's up to you, Robin."

The teen looked down on his left shoulder and his fingertips over the tattoo there, the four silver stars and the words 'property of General Slade Wilson'. "So... I'm still...?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was going to let you die in there, whore..." the General told him. "Watching you, listening to you... quite entertaining. The microphones picked up the slightest noise, and then you told me of your imminent escape..."

"My... what?" Robin's exact memories were hazy. His time in the death room all seemed jumbled together.

"You made me realize that in death, you would escape from me. That in death I could no longer touch you. Hurt you. Well... I couldn't allow that, now could I?"

"No Sir," the hero whispered. He found that he had pressed himself back against the wall, away from the man, so hard that it hurt.

"I assume you are feeling fine?"

"Yes, Sir... I..." Robin swallowed. "Is... is there a way to get rid of it? The serum? I don't want it! Please, turn me back again!"

"What would the fun in that be? You would just be dead in a few days... at most..." the General smirked.

Robin opened his mouth to beg, but closed it again. He had done enough begging... it wasn't out of pride, though; it was just that he knew it was useless and, in fact, he was afraid it would annoy the man.

"Don't want to annoy him... want to be a good boy..."

"Still talking to yourself?"

Robin startled. He hadn't been aware.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I left one of my toys in that room only over night and he was never the same again..." Slade shrugged. "Had to put him back."

"I'm myself! I'm okay!" the Titan hurriedly tried to ensure the man, who chuckled. Robin bit his bottom lip and curled up even tighter against the wall. "What... what are you going to do to me?"

The man smirked. "Anything I can think of."

Robin started shaking as he heard the request. He had done everything the man had told him without question; sucking him off, letting him fuck him in every way possible, but this...

"No... no... please... please, I... I don't want to!"

"So you are saying that you would rather go back in the fourth room than... fight me?"

The teen didn't know how to reply. He nodded but then changed his mind and shook his head instead. But how could he do this? How could he be that Robin and actually fight the man? He thought back to the Robin who had rushed into those bullets and considered him an idiot. He should have fallen to his knees. Strike that. He should never even have pursued the idea of escaping. If he hadn't he would have still been human now, and he wouldn't have survived the things the man had done with him over the past few days. Robin remembered the knives especially. The man had made him stand, naked, in the middle of the room, and with a hunting knife he had amused himself by cutting the outlines of the Titan's old uniform into his skin. The man even had a picture to get it accurate. The tool belt with its pockets, the lacing at the front of the tunic, the "R" on his chest, even the low boots and the lines of his cape down his back. The cuts weren't shallow and Robin had blacked out. He woke up on the floor, healed, with Slade standing over him, declaring that they had to start all over. But he preferred that to this.

"What will it be?"

Robin thought of the dark and the smell, the pain of slowly dying, knowing the General would probably pull him out again at the last moment and this would start all over again. He had already been too close to completely losing his mind, and that was one thing he really didn't want to do. Not because of any escape plans, oh, no, but because he needed to keep his wits if he was going to have even one moment of peace for the rest of eternity. He still needed to be smart round Slade, trying to figure out what he wanted, trying to please him... there would be less pain then. Probably. Eventually. He hoped.

"I... Yes, Sir... I'll... I'll... fight you..." Robin mumbled. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, maybe, he figured, he wouldn't have to-

"Hit back!"

Robin blinked. They were in the courtyard, the one he had escaped from. He didn't know how he had ended up here, holding a bo-staff, dressed in sweats. He kept losing chunks of time like this, as if he had just zoned out, left his body behind. It had to be the psychological trauma, he figured. But now he was back, apparently, and his body hurt like hell. Slade was also staring at him with an irritated frown on his face.

"You barely block. Do better, Robin, or you won't enjoy the post-sparring reward."

The teen nodded reluctantly. Fighting the General, hitting back, it was how his nightmare had begun, and he really didn't want to do this. On the other hand, this seemed to be what the man wanted, which meant Robin should obey. The whole thing hurt his head. Why shouldn't he let the man beat him? Why should he duck and block? Robin swallowed and his hands tightened around the staff. He had to.

From then on Robin made an effort, but it wasn't a great one, even though he was so much stronger than he used to be.

"I'm sorry!"

"It's bad enough that you apologize when you attack, but do you have to do it when you block as well?" the General sounded half annoyed, half amused.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Robin mumbled, his cheeks heating up. He should have gotten over the concept of embarrassment long ago, but it seemed not.

"Fine. I'll just break your nose and we're done," the man snorted.

The swing came at him and again Robin didn't know if Slade wanted him to block or not. The concept of it 'being over' was also tempting, although he knew it would hurt horribly. At the last moment he threw himself back, however, and the fight continued. Robin's chins, thighs, stomach and chest were mottled in blue bruises in the end. His back had long welts where the General had used his staff as a switch when the teen hadn't gotten up from the ground fast enough. Once more he ended up on his back in the dust and Slade was walking up towards him.

"I have some work to do," the man said, looking down on him, Robin was about to nod and stand up, when the man's boot came crashing down, into his face. There was a crunch and the teen's world exploded in pain. "We're done here."

The blood rushing out of his nose were threatening to choke him, so Robin rolled over on his hands and knees with a whimper, as he heard the General call some of his men over. "Tell Schmidt to set his nose, clean him up, and take him to my room by seven."

When he felt hands grab and lift him, the teen did his best to get on his feet. He was led to the grooming room where his nose was treated quickly but painfully before it had time to really heal. He was then taken through the usual cleaning procedure, but it had become so much different to him lately. Being cleaned up meant that the General wanted him, after all. It meant he wasn't, yet, thrown away. It was good. He relaxed and let the staff do whatever they wanted to him. Something else had changed since he came out of the room as well; the guards lugging him around no longer said a word to him. Whenever Robin met their eyes, they tended to look away, uncomfortably, like they had seen what he had been through and wondered how he could still be sane. Robin smiled a little to himself. Well. He wasn't all sane. Probably. He knew that. But he was keeping what was left.

Slade was in his rooms when Robin was brought in, but he was speaking on the phone. He nodded to the guards, looked at Robin and pointed to the bedroom. The teen lowered his eyes obediently and slunk into the room, and onto the bed. Despite what was being done to him here, he loved this bed. Soft, at least compared to his rubber mattress, warm and comfortable. Pillows and comforter. It was heaven. It had been a long day and so, before the man finished his call, Robin fell asleep.

He woke up, groggily, when the legs-part of his harness were slid off. He blinked up at the man who was kneeling on the bed, and then raised his arms to help him get the rest off. If Slade had been angry about him sleeping he would have punished him by now. The usual butt plug had been pushed inside him after the cleaning, and Robin grunted a little as he lifted his hips, making it easier for the man to pull it out of him. A moment later he was completely naked again, apart from the collar, which had been exchanged for plastic one, and now never came off, even in the shower.

By the look in the General's eye, and by the way he moved, the teen had already determined that he wasn't in a rush. Robin felt his stomach tingle. If Slade wasn't in a rush, it could be one of the good times. It could also be one of the really awful times, but as he wasn't angry...

"Ride me," the man ordered and rolled over, propping himself up in a half sitting position against the headboard.

Robin was straddling him in an instant, just making sure the man was hard enough before sinking down on him. He was already lubed from the plug, but even if he hadn't been, he had learned not to ask. Luckily, Slade preferred him slick.

The teen liked this position. It was the least threatening of them, and the man seldom hurt him like this. It was the General being 'the good guy', in a way. Riding the man also let Robin angle his hips until it felt really good, or, if he so wished, make sure it didn't. Tonight, however, he wanted it to feel good.

He wasn't a lifeless lover at least, Slade couldn't blame him for that. If the situation was right, like now, he was eager and showed initiative. True, it was mostly about pleasing the General, but that wasn't exactly frowned upon. He gasped as he rode the man faster and faster, making use of his extra strength and endurance for once. He was getting closer and he hoped he was dragging the man with him. Slade's hands were around his waist, just steadying him, perhaps reminding him who was still really in control, while Robin's head was flung back, eyes closed, lips parted, his hands resting lightly on the man's shoulders, clutching them now and again when a particularly strong spark of pleasure coursed through him.

"Good boy."

That was all it took for Robin to come. The praise pushed him over the edge and a light grunt told him Slade was coming as well, just moments before he felt the rush of hot seed inside him. Robin shivered through another small spike of pleasure before he slumped down slightly, trying to catch his breath. As soon as he had, he set to cleaning his own cum off the man, with his tongue. When he could, he tried to catch his release in his hand, just to not make a mess, but he hadn't had a chance to this time. When he was done, the man rolled him over, as he pulled out, and Robin waited for the order to leave, stay, or whatever other option the man had decided on. As long as the General didn't say anything, he knew he should stay put, so he did so, taking the opportunity to enjoy the bed a little longer, laying next to the man, who was petting his hair, looking down on him with a smirk.

"You did well today." Robin knew the comment wasn't about the sex, but rather what had happened before then.

"I... I did? I tried, but... it's hard to..." he mumbled, looking away.

"I know."

The teen's eyes snapped back to the man, widening at the understanding words. He drew a deep breath, wondering if he finally had the courage to ask the question which had been burning inside him for so long now. He closed his eyes and let the words spill over his lips. "W-what do you want from me, Slade?"

"What do you mean?"

Robin peeked at the General from under his lashes, but when he didn't seem to look angry, he met his look straight on.

"I... I mean... that... I... do you... do you only want for me to be in as much pain as possible for as long as possible?"

"Are you in pain right now?"

"No... and... it's... confusing. Slade, I... I don't understand... I don't understand why I had to fight you today... understand why I have to be tortured and I understand why I should pleasure you, but..."

"And why is that?"

"Because I tried to escape... because I... hurt your eye."

"Gouged it out with a sword."

"Yes... that."

The General chuckled lightly, surprising Robin yet again.

"If I understand it correctly, you are wondering if I am ever going to forgive you?"

"Y-yes. Are you?"

"It's not up to me to forgive traitors."

Robin clenched his teeth. No matter what he had to suffer, no matter how broken he was, that word still made his hackles rise. He was not a traitor! He knew better than to object, however.

"But-" Slade continued. "You are more entertaining than my earlier subjects, because you are versatile. Because, in the smallest of ways, you challenge me. I suppose just having a broken doormat for a toy isn't as much fun."

"I'm sorry."

"Not getting the point there, are you?" the man chuckled. "But no matter, boy. We have all the time in the world to get you to understand."

The End.

A/N: So was it dark enough for you, dark lovers? Yes, I know some of it was "only" flashbacks, but still… and don't complain about Robin being OOC, please, because if you don't think he'd change after being through all this… you're just crazy. Sorry. You are. If he hadn't changed, he'd be the most coldhearted, emotionally stunted guy in the universe, and that position has already been filled after all…. ;) I realize this might remind you of a part of "The Peace Contract" as it had something similar, even though that was "only" isolation, but yeah… similar situations. similar mental torture means similar reactions, so… ;) Oh, and xBlackWolf5x: See? I managed to get "Robin enjoys it" in there, after all! ;)