Content Warning: Depictions of Graphic Violence.
So, uh, this chapter gets a little intense. Buckle up.
Dick Grayson
Wayne Manor
Wednesday, October 31st, 2012
Bruce enters Tim's bedroom, smiling at the sight of Tim cooing over Cassie's princess costume while Stephanie and Jason argue over whether or not Jason should be able to break the "No Guns" rule to be an Outlaw. Steph is multi-tasking in order to pin my hair up with sparkly clips while yelling at Jason. I'm also multitasking by texting Babs to figure out tonight's plan. She's coming over at eight, after we've taken Cassie out trick-or-treating. Then we're meeting up with a couple of her gymnastics friends and my friends from the math team to go to Josh's party. It'll be super tame—otherwise there's no way Bruce would ever let me go—but it'll be really nice to just be Dick Grayson, hanging out with his school friends. As much fun as the Team's party would be, I just want to be myself tonight. No mission, no patrol, no training, no masks and no lies. I look up when Bruce clears his throat.
He nods apologetically and says, "There's a meeting at Mount Justice. It can't wait."
The news hits my siblings like a ton of bricks.
"No!" Cassie wails, throwing herself towards me.
"You can't miss Halloween!" Tim cries, "That's gotta be illegal!"
"You have to stay," Steph interrupts, "I can't be a movie star without my cameraman."
"You guys are so dramatic," I tease, "Stay whelmed. I'll be back in time for trick-or-treating."
I slip off Tim's bed, pulling the hair clips out and tossing them back to Steph.
"Don't go without me!" I call back to them as I follow Bruce out the door. My siblings are quick to reassure me that they won't, and then Bruce and I are heading to the Batcave.
I wait until we enter the hidden staircase before asking, "What's the meeting about?"
Batman responds, "We have reason to suspect one of the members of the team is a mole."
"What?!" I stop dead.
Does he know about Slade? He can't. He would have said something before, and he would have left the team out of it. Unless he's trying to psych me out and get me to confess to him.
"Red Arrow received information from Sportsmaster the last time they fought. It's a possibility that it is false, but we can't take that chance."
"Sportsmaster—as in Artemis' dad?! She… she's the mole?!"
"I don't know. It's a possibility, but it is very unlikely."
"But… if it's not her, then who? Batman, these are my teammates! I trust them! None of them could be a traitor!"
"Hopefully you're right about that. Until we can determine the truth, we have to operate under suspicion."
"No! Bruce, there's no way! These are my friends!"
Bruce's hand rests on my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze, "Dick, I know. I don't want it to be true anymore than you do. But we have to be cautious."
Mount Justice
"What do you mean, there's still a mole?" Wally demands.
"I mean, someone on this team is sending information about the Team's activities to the League of Shadows," Roy answers, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You might not know this since you went AWOL on us, but we already dealt with the mole. Red Tornado? Cave Invaders? We all almost died but we're fine now, thanks for asking," Wally shoots back.
"What happened with the Reds was something different. The Team was only targeted to get Red Tornado to the cave. This mole? They were specifically planted to get information from the Team and the League and send it back to the Shadows."
"Batman said you got the tip from Sportsmaster. How can you trust his word over ours? Every member of the team was vouched for by a member of the League," I cross my arms over my chest.
"Not all of them," Roy answers.
"You don't even know Conner!" I retort, "And if you'd talked to him, I don't know, ONCE, you'd know that he would never-"
"He might not mean to," Roy cuts me off, "But he was cloned in a facility with mind-control capabilities. How sure are you that he has any free will at all?"
"Roy, do me a favor and shut up," Wally glares, "Manhunter did a mental sweep on all of us after we got back from Cadmus. We were all clean of any mind control."
"It's true," Kaldur confirms, "Superboy acts of his own volition. And I agree with Robin; unless all aspects of his personality are a ruse, he would never betray League secrets to our enemies."
"And how do you know it's not a ruse?"
"It's called trust, maybe you should try it sometime."
"Robin, please," Kaldur says.
"I just don't believe that anyone on this team would do this! Sportsmaster knew that it would make us suspicious and start pointing fingers. Even having this meeting is exactly what they want us to do!"
Instead of getting mad, Roy just sighs. It hits me that he looks exhausted. I'm basically an expert in not getting enough sleep, but when his guard is down, he looks like he's barely staying on his feet. The tightness in my stomach pulses into full-blown guilt. He's been running himself ragged to find the mole and it might be… it might be me.
"Dick, I know you don't want to believe it, but imagine it's true. Someone on this team is secretly working for the bad guys, stealing League secrets and using them to hurt people. You of all people should understand why it's important to be prepared."
"So let's prepare! What kinds of secrets are getting passed along? Mission reports? Security details? Passwords? It's just as important to know what and how!" I snap, heart pounding.
Please, don't let it be me.
"If you want to give the mole free reign, go ahead and ignore it. I'm going to find out who the mole is, and I will stop them."
"I'm not saying we should ignore it!" I protest. Wally nods.
"Rob's got a point. We already agreed to do a full system reboot, but we'll update everything. A full overhaul, and logs to make sure that the League can see who signed in, what they accessed and when."
"If Batman believes it prudent, we may also consider planting decoys and tracking the response," Kaldur adds.
"Oh, come on! That's the oldest trick in the book! Do you really think anyone will fall for it?!"
"Hey, just 'cause it's simple doesn't mean it won't work," Wally answers.
"And what if we miss whoever it is? What if we change a couple passwords, close a few loops and the mole slips past?" Roy demands. Kaldur puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Then we have prepared ourselves, and we know to expect it. And we will have done it without tearing ourselves apart in the meantime."
Roy glares at him and opens his mouth like he's about to unleash The Sidekick Rant part 8. I wince but the rant never comes.
"Alright," Roy finally says. Kaldur smiles at him. There's a long pause. A really, really long pause.
"Are… you guys okay?" Wally finally breaks the silence.
"Yeah," Roy says at the same time Kaldur answers, "Fine."
"Uh huh…" Wally and I look at each other.
"I believe this is as good a place as any to adjourn. It seems I have much to discuss with Batman and the League," Kaldur says tightly. Roy nods at him and disappears out the door. Kaldur offers us a weak smile, then he's gone too.
"You've got that party tonight right?" Wally asks, kicking the leg of the chair Roy was sitting in.
"Yeah. Are you still going to meet up with the Team?"
"Not really in the mood now," he confesses.
"Same. But I promised I'd take Cassie trick-or-treating and they're all going to be upset if I ditch on them. And Babs too."
"The things you do for people," Wally shrugs, "Happy Halloween, I guess."
There's definitely something going on with him.
"Do you want to come?"
He shrugs again.
"Dude. Use your words. Stop shrugging at me."
"I'm sorry, I just—" He shrugs. I glare at him, "I was really looking forward to that party tonight but with everything that's going on, how can I go and pretend that everything is normal? If what Roy said is true, that means one of our teammates is lying to us. It's crazy! To think that Artemis would… or Megan or Conner would be working for the League of Shadows, it's bullshit!"
I don't say anything.
"But what if it's true? What if one of them really is a spy and we put everyone else in danger by not following the lead? Rob, what do we do?"
"I don't know."
The Haunt
Thursday, November 1st, 2012
A whooshing sound and a slight breeze are the only warning I get. I barely react in time, bringing my arms above my head in an 'x' to catch the attack. I do a side-kick, meeting the robot's chest. Immediately, I whirl around, swinging my leg so that it slams into the robot's head, sending it crashing to the ground. I get into ready stance, waiting for the next attack. The blindfold over my face is sticky with sweat, and my lungs are burning. I feel a breeze and hear the sound of metal sliding against the floor. I jump into the air, dodging the blow aimed towards my legs. When I land, I hold my hands out in a block, waiting for the next attack.
A fist slams into my cheek, causing the side of my head to erupt in pain. I stumble back, trying to focus. There's another rustling sound and I duck away from the attack aimed towards my head. I manage to avoid the next three blows by ducking and blocking, but the kick in my chest sends me flying back. I roll when I hit the ground and stand up smoothly. I can feel the wall at my back and it gives me an idea. The robot rushes towards me, footsteps pounding on the ground hard and fast, and I wait until the last possible second before diving to the right. The robot crashes into the wall with a loud crash. I say a silent prayer of thanks. If that hadn't worked, I would've been wide open to attack from the back. I get back into a fighting position, waiting for another robot but instead, slow footsteps make their way across the room.
"Blindfold off," I relax and tug the bandanna off, watching as Slade inspects the broken, sparking robot. My chest heaves, beads of sweat rolling off my face and down my neck. He walks over to me and holds out a towel and a water bottle.
"That was exceptional. Your improvement over the past few weeks has far exceeded my expectations."
"Thank you," I say, wiping the towel over my face and downing half the bottle in one go.
"Get cleaned up. Then you can go home."
I walk over to the bench and take another big drink of water. Slade picks up the broken robot and slings it over his shoulder. The robots are big, about the same size as a grown man. They're covered in black metal, with an orange circle over the face. They're programmed to fight, and even though they still have a lot of bugs, they're really hard to beat… without the blindfold. He leaves with the robot. I wipe my face off and sling the towel around my neck before I follow. He stops outside the workshop at the far end of the hallway. I don't know if that's the actual name, but it's the place where Slade builds, fixes and modifies his technology. I've only been inside once, but it's a huge space, full of finished projects and prototypes, scrap metal, giant spools of wire and circuitry.
"If you insist on destroying my robots, you're going to need to learn how to put them together," Slade comments. He opens the door to the workshop and throws the broken robot down on a workbench, near a soldering iron and a case of wires and flux and washers.
"Okay."
I follow him back into the hallway, mind churning. Normally, I would be beside myself with excitement. I've always wanted to build a robot and I already know how to program stuff. I never thought Slade would let me touch any of his real tech. But now, I just want to keep fighting stuff and not think about how one of my closest friends might be a traitor.
"It's too late to begin right now, but I'll give you some information to look over so we can have time next week. And I don't want you touching the machinery until you've finished some sort of safety training."
"Okay," I repeat.
Slade stops walking and looks back at me, his gaze boring a hole in my skull. He opens the nearest door, which opens into the small dining room across from the kitchen. He kicks out one of the chairs and points to it.
"There's something bothering you," It's a statement, not a question.
Hesitantly, I sit down and stare at the ground.
"I don't know how to ask this, but I promise I'm not being disrespectful or anything, but… well the thing is… Speedy- I mean Red Arrow said…" I take a deep breath, gripping the towel for moral support, "There's a mole on the team. Red Arrow wasn't sure who they're working for, but it involves the League of Shadows and probably the Injustice League. Someone's feeding them information from the inside. And I can't… I don't want to… ask but… is it me?"
Slade doesn't say anything for a few moments. He sits at the chair next to me and shakes his head. The pit in my stomach loosens.
"No. It's not. This arrangement is between you and me. Even if it wasn't, nobody in the…" he pauses, "villain community is aware that I'm training a student, much less that it's the Boy Wonder."
"But if it's not me, then who is it?"
"Contrary to what you may believe, I have better things to do than monitor your sidekick team," Slade says, but then he crosses his arms and tells me, "Your archer is Sportsmaster's daughter. His estrangement with his children is well-known, as is the fact that his younger daughter refused to follow in his footsteps. She is not the mole."
"That could just be what they want everyone to believe."
"That's true. However, she was not approached by Batman until a few months ago, and neither Sportsmaster nor her sister Cheshire has had any contact with her in years."
"So it's not Artemis?"
"No."
"What about Superboy? Cadmus could have messed with his brain."
"That is highly likely. However, the League of Assassins, or whoever else may be behind this, would not depend on Superboy to be their sole source of information."
"Why not?" I ask.
"He was rescued from a genetic experimentation lab, where he was known to have been affected by telepathic influences. The Justice League does not trust him enough to reveal important secrets to. The same goes for the Martian girl.
"No. The mole will not be one of your new members. It will be someone that you trust. Someone whose betrayal will hurt."
"They're my teammates. My friends! I trust them with my life! None of them would ever betray the League. Kid Flash and Aqualad would never—" I trail off, the words I'm trying to find failing me.
"Wouldn't they say the same about you?" Slade asks quietly.
My stomach churns.
"That's not the same!" I shout, but the second the words come out of my mouth I know they're lies. I might not be Red Arrow's mole, but no matter what Slade denies, I am a mole. I'm lying to my team, to the League, to Batman. Slade may be helping me, but he's an enemy of the Justice League. And I've given away secrets and exposed some of its weaknesses to him, "I know I agreed to this. I know we had a deal, but Slade, I…I shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong. I just…"
Slade's hand lands on my shoulder.
"I know you're upset about your team but panicking is not productive. We'll keep working tomorrow, but for now, go home. Be with your family."
They way he says it sends a chill down my spine, like what you say to someone after a family member dies. His hand on my shoulder feels menacing, even though he's barely touching me. I can't tell what he's thinking, but he doesn't look angry or upset or anything but calm. I hate that I can't read him.
I just want to go home. I just want this to be over.
Slade doesn't move as I stand up and head for the door, back upstairs to the garage and my motorcycle. He just sits at the table, deep in thought.
The Haunt
Friday, November 2nd, 2012
Duck. Dodge. Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck! Knee block. Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.
"Again."
Thirty-two reps? Is he serious?
I raise my fists and he cracks the targets together to make a bang. Then he's swinging and I fall back into the same pattern I've been doing for almost two hours.
Duck. Dodge. Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck! Knee block. Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.
"Again."
Ugh! We must be almost done, right?
Bang!
Duck. Dodge. Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck! Knee block. Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.
"Again."
It's probably just five more. That makes an even forty.
"Again."
Or not.
Spin. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish.
"Again."
"How many more?" I ask, leaning on my knees to try and catch my breath.
"Until I tell you to stop. Now go again."
And again.
"Can I get water?"
"Again."
Bang!
"Again."
Dodge left, right arm block. Jump. Double jab to an uppercut. Duck under the target, barely moving out of the way fast enough. Dodge right. Overhead block. Elbow strike to spinning back-kick finish. Wipe the sweat off my face, breathe hard to stop myself from falling over.
How many more can there be?
"Again."
That's it. I'm done.
"Come on! We've already done this drill fifty times!" I throw my hands in the air in frustration.
"Do it again," Slade repeats, crossing his arms.
"No! You said we were going to be in the Workshop building robots this session, not doing the same sparring drill for hours! I'm done!"
I match Slade's gaze. His face is a blank mask and I refuse to back down. Finally, he nods and the corner of his lip curls up slightly.
"If you're sure you don't want to do this…"
I cross my arms.
"Fine."
Yes! Before he can change his mind, I start to move towards the pile of discarded targets to put them away. Slade's voice stops me.
"Leave it. I'll clean up later."
I look up in confusion. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up suddenly and all I can think is that there's something wrong about this. When has he ever given in before?
"It's no problem-" I start, but Slade cuts me off.
"I said, leave it."
Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the evil lair.
"Follow me," Slade says as he disappears through the doorway. By the time I catch up to him, he's opening a door at the end of the hallway.
"Go through the next two doors and wait for me."
I glance up at him as I walk through the first door, resisting the urge to point out that the Workshop is the other way. I shiver when the door closes behind me and the lock clicks. My stomach clenches. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. There's nowhere else to go except for the open door at the end of the hallway so I follow Slade's directions and find myself standing at the end of a brightly lit hallway. Like the rest of the complex, the walls are pale gray steel and the ceiling is white.
My fingers twitch and my heart pounds. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten in my head. Then I do it again, but count to fifteen. Then twenty. What happens now? It's a dead end and there's nowhere for me to run. What's he going to do? Wait, no, don't think about that. That's not helpful.
The door opens and I jump a foot into the air. Slade is holding a roll of blue pre-wrap and a roll of white athletic tape.
"What are those for?"
"I thought you were an athlete, Richard. Taping prevents injury and provides support," he says cryptically. Before I can answer, he reaches towards the wall behind me. When he presses it, a panel raises and he pulls it to the side. The hidden door slides open, revealing a dark room. Still holding the door open, he turns towards me.
"In."
Slowly, I walk forwards and enter the dark space. As I move in, my eyes start to make out large shapes. Slade closes the door behind me with a loud bang and the lights turn on, suddenly illuminating the space. My eyes close reflexively, and when I open them, my heart stops.
It's an interrogation room.
I whirl around, dropping into a fighting stance. Slade is still standing near the wall, watching me. He looks unimpressed.
"What are you doing?!" I demand, tense and ready to move in whatever direction I have to. The room has a flat ceiling, with no beams or ventilation pipes that I can escape to.
"Something I should have done a long time ago," he responds coolly. He nods his head to the right, "Take a seat."
I glance over and see a high-backed metal chair.
"Yeah, I'm going to have to go with a no on that one."
"You are out of chances. Do not make this difficult."
"Sure, that sounds like a great plan, Slade. I'd just love to sit in your freaky murder chair while you torture me. Sounds like fun!"
The lights go out. I close my eyes, listening for any clue of where Slade is. Something skitters across the floor to my left. I take a step to my right and raise my-
Slade's fist connects with my diaphragm. The air rushes out of my lungs and I double over coughing. I struggle as he drags me over to the chair, but my arms are clutching my stomach and I don't stand a chance. When he pushes me into the chair, he keeps his arm pressed against my chest to hold me in place. I try to twist out of his grip so I can slide out. The lights turn on again and black spots obscure my vision. Metal starts rattling, and something freezing cold closes around my neck with a click.
"No!" I shout. Slade pulls on the chain, slamming my head against the back of the chair and my hands reach for my neck to stop the metal collar from strangling me. If I press my back flat against the chair, I can breathe but I can't move my head.
"Let me go!" I wheeze.
Slade crouches down in front of me and I can't see what he's doing. I kick out, trying to knock him away, but something clamps around my legs and pulls them against the chair. He adds cuffs around my ankles and just like that, I'm totally pinned down.
"Let me go!" I shout, twisting and writhing. Slade looms over me menacingly.
"It's time you understood something, Richard. You do not get to do whatever you want. I have been incredibly patient with you, but you continue to be insolent. As a result, you have lost the right to move until you can show me respect."
"You can't do that!"
"Can't I? Make a fist."
"Why?"
He holds up the roll of pre-wrap so I can see it, "I'm going to tape your hand. I can either use this or tape your bare skin."
"What? No!"
Stars explode in my vision and the right side of my face burns.
"Make. A. Fist," he raises his hand to hit me again and I panic.
I flinch when he grabs my hand but he wraps it quickly with the pre-wrap and covers it in athletic tape. Then he rips off a big strip and secures my hand to the arm of the chair. He does the same to my other arm, not bothering to wait for me to hold it out. He ties ropes around my elbows, shoulders and knees, binding each tightly against the chair. When he finally steps back, I can't move.
At all.
The collar pins my head to the back of the chair so there's no way to turn. My legs are locked down and something around my waist that goes through the chair stops me from shifting to either side. Slade wrapped them so tightly that I can't wiggle my fingers. I've never felt so trapped in my entire life. I've never needed to move as much as I do right now but I can't. I can't move. Everything itches and my back hurts and I just need… I need to move!
"Slade, please!" I'm begging now. Slade crouches, lowering his face until it fills my vision.
"Do not forget, Richard. You. Are. Mine. Everything you have is something I have given you. And I can take all of it away. Do you understand me?"
My jaw locks and my teeth grind against each other so I can bite back the stream of curses that will just make this worse. How could I have missed this? Slade is evil and twisted and he always has been. I glare at him with as much hatred as I can muster. My stomach freezes when Slade grins slowly.
"You're adorable," he says and his fingers dig into my chin in a steel grip. I can't move away, and the tight grip quickly becomes agonizing. I grit my teeth even harder and refuse to cry out.
"I own you, Richard. You belong to me. You would be dead without me. Think about that for a little while."
The fingers suddenly release my chin and the pain immediately starts to fade.
"Let me out!" I growl, blocking out his words. He starts to move towards the door and panic sets in.
"Let me go! Let me out of here! Slade!" I strain against the bindings as hard as I can but they don't budge.
"Screw you!" I scream, "I hate you! I wish you were dead!"
Slade stops. Very slowly, he turns around.
"You just lost the right to talk."
"Fuck you! Let me OUT!"
"And for that charming message, you lose the right to see. Would you like to find out what else I can take from you?"
The shout that comes out of my mouth isn't words. It's just sound and rage as Slade disappears behind me. When he reappears, there's a thick wad of cloth in his hands. I clench my jaw shut, trying to fight back the terror.
"No more brave words?" Slade taunts, "If I had taught you to keep your mouth shut sooner, we could have avoided this."
His fingers close around my jaw and wrench my mouth open with brute strength and it feels like the world's worst muscle pull. As soon as it's open, he shoves the gag in so far that I almost throw up.
"MMMMFGEJGJHHGDLF!"
"You will learn respect," he says in my ear, "And I suggest that you try not to think about how much your nose itches right now."
Then he blindfolds me and leaves me trapped in the dark.
I struggle, writhing and pulling and twisting and tugging but nothing happens. Whatever Slade did, I can't get out of it. I'm trapped. My muscles are tensed and sore and my joints hurt from sitting still. It's like a million ants are crawling over my body and inside my skin and I want to scream and cry but anything deeper than a breath through my nose makes me gag. I recite the alphabet backwards to give my brain something to do. Then I count backwards from one hundred. Then I recite prime numbers in Spanish. The itch on my nose has gotten progressively worse but I can't reach it no matter which way I strain and my skin is buzzing like it's stuffed with bees and I think I'm going crazy.
Slade won't leave me here. He'll come back and let me out. And as soon as he does, I'm going straight to Batman. I'm going to tell him everything, and then Batman and the League will destroy Slade and put him away for good.
He thinks he owns me?! That he can do this to me?! Slade doesn't own me! I don't owe him anything, even if he did save my life!
"You would be dead without me. Think about that."
I start counting.
One. Two Three.
I bite down on the gag even tighter before relaxing my jaw. By some miracle, it shifts the cloth forward a tiny bit, just enough that breathing won't make me throw up. My fingers are numb and trying to move them just makes my whole arm sting.
Four hundred eighty-eight. Four hundred eighty-nine. Four hundred ninety.
I never asked Slade to save my life. And besides, how many times have I saved someone else's life and never asked for anything in return? How often has Batman saved my life without ever ordering me around like a slave?
Three thousand eleven. Three thousand twelve. Three thousand thirteen.
Why didn't I tell Batman the truth? Why didn't I get help before it was too late?
Six thousand two hundred fifty-four. Six thousand two hundred fifty-five.
Why did I talk back to Slade? What did I think was going to happen?
Nine thousand seven hundred forty-two. Nine thousand seven hundred forty-three.
He wouldn't leave me here. He won't. Won't he?
Ten thousand.
My whole body is numb, and even the tiniest movement I make sends pins and needles jabbing up and down my arms. Everything is shaking, and my stomach clenched in on itself, giving me waves of pain and hunger.
Humans can survive three to five days without water, and almost a month without food. If Slade doesn't come back, it'll take me three days to die. Three days tied to a chair, every part of my body in pain or totally numb, waiting to die.
I don't want to die.
I shouldn't count. It'll just make it worse.
Even if I was going to, I lost count.
Fourteen thousand one hundred thirty. Fourteen thousand one hundred thirty one.
The tear tracks have dried out, sticking to my cheeks and everything itches so badly it feels like my face is burning. I scream even though my throat is already raw and struggle as hard as I can, giving one last burst of energy to try and break free.
I can't get out.
My body is shaking from the effort and I slump against the ropes, relaxing into the bonds instead of trying to pull myself loose. My arms are numb from lack of circulation and my back is screaming from being in the same place for too long. The only things I can hear are my own breathing and the loud rumbling from my stomach.
The inside of my mouth is dry and my lips are so chapped they're starting to bleed. My head is pounding and between the dehydration and the lack of circulation to my arms and legs, I feel so dizzy I can't hold myself up. The pressure on my joints is so much worse from leaning into the ropes and I would scream if my voice wasn't already gone.
Everything hurts so badly that the pain is just a constant pulsing wave that jumps from limb to limb to my head and my back and my stomach.
He's going to come back. He has to come back.
Twenty thousand six hundred eleven. Twenty thousand six hundred twelve.
I'll do anything.
There's a creaking sound, so soft it has to be a hallucination.
But it happens again and there's no mistaking the sound of the door swinging open, or the heavy footsteps pacing slowly into the room.
My breath catches in my throat and my heart pounds with equal parts hope and sheer panic.
"Have you learned your lesson, Richard?" Slade asks smoothly. The question sends a wave of terror down my spine so bad my whole body shakes, "I'm going to take the gag out and ask you a few questions. I expect an honest response."
There's a tugging sensation as he pulls the gag out. The sudden loss of pressure on my tongue makes me cough so badly I start dry heaving and that makes me even dizzier. A spike of pain shoots through my head from lack of oxygen and my chest aches so I gasp for air in the middle of my violent coughing fit.
"Take a few seconds," Slade says coldly. I choke down the rest of the coughs, desperately forcing my breathing under control. He's going to get mad at me again and leave me in here and if he does, he might not come back. My body won't stop shaking and my stomach is revolting against the rest of me and I'm going to throw up and Slade decides he's given me enough time to recover.
"Did you like that?"
The words cut straight through my body like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head and I shiver uncontrollably but I still can't move and everything hurts and is numb at the same time.
"nn.," I try to answer, but my throat screams in pain and my voice is so raw the sound refuses to come out, "Nnn."
I hear footsteps again and I panic.
"Nnn! Ple-!" my voice breaks halfway through and it hurts so badly that my eyes burn, but there's no more tears left. I writhe against the restraints in a blind panic.
Don't leave me here again!
Please!
NO!
"Stop," Slade orders.
I freeze.
Something smooth presses against my lower lip while Slade puts his hand on my head.
"Drink."
He tilts the glass up and I gulp down water like I've never had any in my entire life. It's cold and smooth and I forget how badly my throat hurts until Slade pulls the glass away after three gulps.
"That's enough," he says.
"No!"
His hand tightens in my hair, sending a wave of pain down.
"What was that?"
I swallow nervously. My throat still feels raw and my mouth feels horrifyingly dry but it's not excruciating to talk.
"…more."
"You're still thirsty, Richard?"
I try to nod.
"Well? What do you say?"
Hope springs up in my chest and I chase it.
"please"
"Please what?"
"Please… more… water"
The glass presses up to my lip again and I almost cry in relief, but he doesn't move.
"This seems like a very good moment to remind you that you don't know what I may have put in here," Slade says. His thumb is rubbing circles in my hair and the feeling sends goosebumps down my spine, "As you already know, there are a nearly endless number of undetectable chemicals I might have added. You took an enormous risk for a very small payout. Tell me why."
He's still holding the water glass up to my face and I can almost taste it. I don't know what's worse; he might have just drugged me, I would still do anything to drink the maybe-drugged water, he won't stop touching my head, and there's nothing I can do about any of it.
He can do anything to me and we both know it.
"…thirsty."
"You were thirsty. Desperately thirsty?"
Trying not to cry, I do my best to nod. The collar pinches the skin and I jerk back, but Slade's hand holds my head in place.
"So it was a matter of survival?" he doesn't wait for an answer before saying, "Or is there another reason? A much, much more important reason?"
I'm trying so hard to ignore the glass of water still taunting me that I can barely hear him.
"Tell me, Richard, do you think there's another reason?"
"yes."
"What do you think that reason is?"
"you told me to," I whisper.
"And why is that such an important reason?"
I feel tears drip down through the blindfold. The tear tracks feel like acid against my skin and I can't do anything about it and I can't even stop my voice from shaking.
"Because… you're… I…"
Suddenly, Slade rips off the blindfold and I cringe against the sudden influx of light, hissing in pain as the sight of it burns my retinas.
"Why, Richard?" Slade demands, the shout ringing through the room and the light is too bright and I can't flinch or curl into a ball and there's nothing I can do to escape the fact that I… that Slade… I…
"I belong to you."
"Are you crying?"
"Yes," I whimper.
"Why are you crying?" His voice is hard and cold and pointed and the last bit of control I have breaks and I start sobbing.
"I don't want to belong to you!" I scream, voice hoarse from screaming into the gag but I'm crying and desperate and there's nothing left for me to hold on to. Slade waits and I cry, and the part of me that's not desperate and lost and hopeless doesn't want to stop crying because it's delaying the inevitable and I need every single second but there's no point because suddenly the tears stop coming and the heaving cries fade.
"What are you going to do about it?"
I should feel pain. I should feel anger. I should feel hopeless or scared or… or… or something, but I just feel numb.
"Whatever you tell me to do."
"Good. Look at me."
I raise my head. The look on his face is terrifying, so I look at his eyepatch instead.
"Who are you?"
"Richard Grayson," I mumble.
"That's not what I asked you," Slade says in a low voice, "Your name is irrelevant. I asked you who you are. I want an answer."
"I'm your apprentice."
"Who do you belong to?"
"I…"
I can't say it again.
Slade sighs.
"We'll try again in a few days."
My heart stops.
Days?
He takes a step towards me, raising the blindfold to cover my face again and I scream.
"NO! NO! PLEASE! PLEASE NO DON'T‼‼ PLEASE!"
Slade puts down the blindfold and I can barely breathe.
"I want you to remember this feeling," Slade says. His voice is so quiet I can barely hear it over the sound of my heartbeat, "This terror, this desperation, and how lucky you are that this one time, your begging is enough. However else you choose to spend your time, whatever alliances you've built, whatever friends you've made, all of it is superficial. The only thing that is real is your allegiance to me. Do you understand?"
I nod with a whispered, "Yes."
"If you tell anyone about your true allegiances, I promise you that what you've just experienced is NOTHING compared to what I will do to you. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. Who are you?"
"I'm your apprentice."
"What's your name?"
"Ri—Renegade."
"Beyond that, what are you?"
"Nothing. I'm nothing."
"Who do you belong to?"
"I belong to you."
"Good," he holds up the glass of water again and brings it up to my mouth, "Drink."
When the glass is empty, he smooths my hair down and leans closer.
"Do you see how much easier this is when you're obedient?"
"Yes."
"Am I going to have to teach you this lesson again?"
"Never."
He reaches for something I can't see and there's a clicking sound, like something being uncapped. Slade holds up the syringe to the light and flicks it to shake out the air bubbles. I swallow, staring with wide eyes.
"I am going to inject you with this. When I'm done, I will let you out. You are not going to protest."
"What is it?" I whisper.
"I know you pride yourself on your lack of enhanced abilities. After this, that will no longer be strictly true."
No. No. No! He can't do that!
But he can.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from shouting out something I'll regret. There's nothing I can do to stop him. If I cooperate it'll be quick and he'll let me out. No matter how badly I want to stop him, anything I do will just make it so, so much worse.
"Good boy," I flinch as Slade lines up the needle with the vein on my forearm. Tears drip down my face and I bite down on my tongue even harder. But then Slade pulls the needle away and holds up the folded-up gag, "Bite down. I don't want you to bite your tongue off."
It's the hardest thing I've ever done, but I force myself to bite down on the fabric without protesting. He lines up the syringe again and I squeeze my eyes shut.
"For what it's worth, you won't remember this part," Slade says. Then he presses the plunger and the world catches on fire.
AN: I regret nothing.