Disclaimer: All copyright and credit goes to the original creators of the Teen Titans, Batman, and the DC Universe. This is for entertainment purposes only! I do not own any of the characters!

Last Chapter: Robin tried to rescue Batman and was brutally injured by the Joker. He has now gone to Slade's hideout, looking for help...

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and for being patient and supportive! So sorry this chapter took a while to get out! It was originally very different, but then I went back and edited it and well here it is!

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 7

Clipped Wings

Blood.

It raced down his hand as he pressed it up against his shoulder. The warm liquid tickled his fingers and flowed through the hastily tied bandage like a cascading waterfall. Robin's free hand slipped on the rusty latch and he swore – again.

He whipped out a bird-a-rang and paused as a sickening pain danced across his ribs, momentarily causing the boy to lose his breath. He leaned against the rusty window as air entered his lungs in shallow gasps. The platform he was standing on was small, and the boy was still uncertain how long it would be able to hold his weight. It was secured to the side of building with a few rusty and very questionable looking bolts. When the warehouse was operational perhaps this platform was used to oversee large shipments or deliveries. The boy furtively glanced around and took in the vast expanse of open space below him.

The zone below him had once been used as a delivery area. Boxes and crates were sprawled in a sporadic arrangement. Years of neglect and brutal storms had weathered everything around this part of town into skeleton-like shells. If one looked close enough however, he or she would notice that out of all the buildings, this particular warehouse still had some structural integrity left. It stood strong and solid among the decrepit structures and although it wasn't pristine and new, it certainly wasn't about to fall over.

Chill raced up Robin's back as the boy looked around.

It was all familiar.

The rusty, dingy windows. The flickering lights. The haunting, ominous air. Everywhere Robin looked he could feel Slade's presence breathe down upon him.

The boy repressed a cringe and refocused on the task before him. He had no doubt that Slade had improved his security measures. The moment this window popped open, the masked man would instantly be aware of his presence, and Robin figured he had all of about five seconds to explain himself before Slade attacked him. The boy growled. Of course I still have to get this blasted window open first or Slade will never even get the opportunity to attack me.

He dug the sharp edge of the bird-a-rand into the latch and pressed down. The rusty metal didn't budge. Robin leveraged his weight against the weapon and used the muscles from his legs to aid his arms in the endeavor. Still didn't budge. Frustration licked at Robin's side. He would not let this crummy piece of rusted metal stop him now. He had come too far to simply die at his enemy's doorstep.

Ignoring the intense bout of pain from his ribs, the boy yanked his foot up and slammed it into the bird-a-rang. The sharp metal pierced into the latch, and the window flew open with a dull pop. Robin swore as he pressed his head against the rusty frame. Pain accosted him from every inch of his body. His ribs ached and burned. His shoulder felt as if it were on fire. His head drummed with a harsh, pounding rhythm.

Breathe.

Ragged and uneven breathing cut through the air as he slipped into the window. The lights flickered, and Robin fell to the ground in an unceremonious heap of bones. The boy groaned and rose to his unsteady feet. With a wild smack, the window slammed shut behind him, causing the boy to flinch in surprise. The noise echoed through the haunt until it blended with the familiar ticking of the gears.

Ah the gears…

The unsettling rhythm beat in Robin's ears while blue eyes examined the massive space with a dim interest. He was standing on an upper level walkway that looked over the entire space. The only light in his alcove came from the faint moonlight outside which did little to fight off the darkness that surrounded him. The boy blinked as moving shadows rolled past his eyes from the disorienting spin of the gears. The lights above only illuminated key areas of the massive haunt. One area, in the middle of the vast space, seemed the largest and most expansively lit. If Slade was anywhere, the man would most likely be in the heart of the hideout.

"Voice identification."

What the…

Robin whirled around as a panel in the ceiling slid back, revealing a small, sleek machine. It flew down from the ceiling as if it were a miniature helicopter. A single blade on the upper part of the machine spun with a quiet whirling hum, and the perfect dark gray sphere cast a red glow over Robin's face. The boy took a hesitant step back as the red light blinked and flickered.

"Uhhhh…." Robin mumbled. His mind completely froze at the sudden appearance of the odd robot. It was about the size of a baseball and sleek, dark gray steel seamlessly covered its entire body. A large glass dot on the outside of the sphere made it appear as if it had a single eye.

"Identified. Robin. Processing."

Robin stared at the small machine with a dumbfounded curiosity. This was new…since when did Slade get a robot? And how had it been able to identify him? The boy let out a very long sigh of annoyance and winced as his ribs complained in pain. Slade somehow always managed to take creepy to an entirely new level.

"Access granted."

The red light blinked off and the robot flew back up to the ceiling. The panel reopened and the tiny, mysterious machine whirled back inside.

Well that was weird…

The thought bounced around in Robin's head as the boy considered the robot. It seemed Slade had been busy with some new inventions lately. He furtively glanced around. Wonder what else the masked man has been up to…

As he stumbled to the railing, a thought burned into his mind. Besides the odd, little robot, everything still seemed the same. The same haunting gears. The same deceiving warehouse. The same maze-like layout. Slade hadn't changed anything since…well…

Apprentice….

Robin tripped over his feet and slammed into the railing. Tears blurred his eyes as the hard metal bar slammed into his stomach, barely missing a direct hit with his ribs. The movement racketed through him, and the boy found himself unable to breathe over the roar of pain that flooded his body. He collapsed to his knees, only aware of the waves of fire that seared his body.

Breathe, Robin. Breathe.

But he couldn't breathe. That soothing, cold air refused to enter his lungs. It danced around his lips, taunting him. The boy fought down the rise of panic that threatened to envelope him. He did not get this far to simply give up. Determination flowed over the pain, dulling it slightly. He tried again, and this time a shallow breath of air entered his lungs. The fire in his lungs slightly cooled as he repeated the process again and again.

The boy pushed himself to the edge of the catwalk and pulled out his grappling hook. His movements were slow and small, and the boy tried to do the least amount of work possible. He latched the end of the grappling hook to the edge of the railing and pushed himself off so that he was dangling from the device. Robin clenched his teeth as he released more cord from the grappling hook and slowly lowered himself to the floor.

The task took less than thirty seconds, but to the boy writhing in pain, it felt like thirty years. He never thought the feeling of concrete under his feet could be so reassuring. Carrying his broken body deeper into the dark haunt, his feet staggered forward. His mind briefly fluttered to the dangling grappling hook, but the pain that assaulted him quickly shoved it away. He could get it later. He always had more…

Step by step the darkness and the suffocating gears closed in around him. He reached up and uselessly tightened the bandage over his bloody shoulder. The warm, red liquid raced down his arm at the movement, and bile rose in the boy's throat. He repressed the sickening shudder that carved its way into his body and staggered on through the daunting haunt.

Step by step, he moved closer to the light. Step by step, a feeling of defeat settled in his tired bones. Step by step, fear and the overpowering darkness crushed his body. He was doing the one thing he swore never to do. He was asking for help. From the one person he hated and despised with every fiber in his body.

He was going to Slade.

The words burned Robin's mouth. Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he continued to move among the darkness the metal gears provided. It followed his movements and cloaked his small form in a shadowy protection. He had grown used to having the darkness as his companion

It had become a part of him.

The boy rounded the last gear and was rewarded with the heart of the haunt. Light burst through the darkness, and his eyes squinted at the area before him. A wall of screens stood fifty yards ahead of him, and a long, glass table with weapons and spare parts rested in front of the screens. The vast, open space drowned the boy while the overhead lights glared down at him and dared him to try and hide.

His body tensed expecting an attack to come, and his blue eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area for the orange and black suit that haunted his dreams. The boy took a shallow breath and winced as his ribs disagreed with the small action. The boy tried – key word 'tried' – to ghost forward. Instead his boots hit the ground with large, loud smacks that echoed through the vast space. The boy groaned in frustration, but continued forward. He barely had enough energy to simply move. He had absolutely no energy left to freaking 'ghost'.

Alarms began to ring in his brain. This was wrong. It went against every fundamental lesson Batman had ever taught him. He was completely exposing himself to the enemy. An attack right now could possibly cripple him, and only an insane, idiot would attempt this. The boy snorted to himself. He was pretty sure he fit that description.

But it had to be done. As much as it pained him to admit it, he needed help. He couldn't do this alone, and he had to make Slade see that he wasn't here to fight.

Where was Slade anyway? The thought slipped into his chaotic and pained mind. The man was not one to hide, especially from Robin, and he obviously hadn't switched hideouts because the machines and weapons here had clearly been used recently. Robin approached the long table cautiously as his eyes took in the different variations of weapons that were meticulously laid out.

Each weapon was locked away under a clear glass case that was no doubt rigged with all sorts of deadly and impenetrable sensors. A long, slim sword caught the boy's attention and he moved towards it, mesmerized by the paper thin, but deadly sharp, blade. His shaky hand glided along the cold glass as chills raced along his spine. He pulled his hand back and allowed it to fall to his side as his pain was temporarily forgotten. A weapon like that was made for wicked speed and deadly accuracy. It was the weapon of a killer.

The boy turned from the vicious weapons and examined the large, open space. The only other object in it was a large chair positioned in front of the massive screens with a few steps leading up to it. Each step Robin took towards the chair sent a jolting pain through his body, and the young boy gritted his teeth in agony. A cloud of uncertainty and fear hung over the small figure, dwarfing him in a cloak of terror. It was uncharacteristic for the masked man not to reveal himself by now.

What was Slade waiting for?

The dark leather was smooth under Robin's hesitant touch. His hand coasted along it, feeling the worn material flow under his stained hand. Drops of blood fell from his shoulder and landed on the concrete around his feet.

The chair burned into Robin's hazy mind, sending his thoughts into motion. Was this where Slade sat, scheming plots to destroy the city? Was this chair the pinnacle of all his evil plans? Did this chair give Slade his vile ideas and feed his malicious motives? Would Slade be the same without his chair?

A smirk graced Robin's face. That was absurd thinking. It was only a chair; of course, Slade would still be the same criminal mastermind without it. A wheezing chuckle escaped the boy's dry, cracked lips as an overwhelming fear pounded down upon him again, sending him to his knees.

This place was making him crazy.

He felt the man everywhere he looked. Slade wasn't even here and already the man's presence carved into him like sharp knives. The boy pressed his hands onto the harsh concrete as the pressure around his ribs tightened. Pain shot in spiking lines across his abdomen and into his lungs. He clawed at his utility belt around his waist and flung it off. The lifted weight relieved the pain briefly…very briefly.

For a few seconds the pain faded and Robin had a moment of clarity. He had just thrown away his utility belt. He had just thrown away his only defense against Slade. Smooth, Grayson. Don't just walk into your enemy's haunt – walk into your enemy's haunt freaking unarmed. The boy mentally rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he could put up a fight with or without his belt anyway.

In a flash, his moment of clarity was washed away and the world as Robin knew it disappeared. Pain overrode everything in a pounding wave that consumed his mind. His body convulsed as he coughed and hacked up blood. He couldn't think. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe.

Air refused to enter his lungs and panic set in. Robin tried. He really did. He opened his mouth and screamed at his brain to breathe. But panic dominated all of his efforts and washed away any focus or clarity the boy had. His eyelids grew heavy as the turning gears burned into his ears.

He was conscious of a hand grabbing his shoulder. He was conscious of a deep voice reaching his ears. He was conscious of strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him away from the red, concrete ground. His eyes flickered, and his world faded to black…

Six hours.

He had been in this room for six hours.

Six painstakingly slow hours. The red clock bore into his eyes. The first hour had blinked by with the man's mind still numb and shock. He replayed the incident over and over again, still in disbelief about what had occurred…

After the second hour in the sweltering hot room, Batman had lost count of the number of drops of sweat that had hit the floor. And when the third hour passed, Batman had sworn to himself that he would never sweat again.

During the fourth hour, he had lost his patience. The sweltering heat had finally pierced his calm, collected mind, and the man had snapped. Thick obscenities had burned from Batman's lips like molten lava. The man had shouted vile atrocities at the Joker and the man that had assisted the crazed clown in his capture. His body had wrenched against the all-powerful chains and had fought madly against his confinement.

Around the fifth hour, commotion had erupted outside. Shouts. Yelling. Gunfire. The familiar noises had snapped Batman out of his blind rampage and had brought the man spiraling back to reality.

He was on his own.

That was a fact the man could no longer ignore.

It could be weeks before the Justice League could come to his rescue. Most of the members were away on an off-world mission, and the ones that were still on Earth were cities away. The crushing weight of the situation had slammed down onto his heavy uniform and had crushed all forms of resistance from his body. He needed to stay sharp. He was the only one responsible for his survival, and if he allowed the Joker to mess with his head, it would only guarantee his death.

What exactly had happened outside…of well…wherever he was? What was the cause of such violence? Had someone tried to rescue him? But who would attempt the dangerous task? There was nobody left in Gotham that he could rely on…that is if he was even still in Gotham? What if the Joker had moved him halfway across the world? What if…

The man sliced his thoughts off. Whatever had happened outside, he was no longer going to think about it. 'What if' questions would get him nowhere. He needed answers, and there was only one person that could give them to him. If he could even get any answers out of the man…

Batman watched as the clock's minutes continued to move. Six hours. How much longer was the Joker going to make him wait?

The door was thrown open with a loud earth shattering smash. Like a smothering wave, light crashed into Batman, and the man jerked back in pain. His eyes burned from the sudden light, and a wave of nausea flew over him. The man slammed his eyes shut as a sickening crackle reverberated through the now brightly lit room, and a silhouetted figure leaned against the doorway.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Batsie."

The haunting voice was low and shallow. It danced around the room and crawled up the man's arms. Batman clenched his hands around the chains that held him back and growled while forcing his eyes open.

"You're a coward Joker. You didn't even bother to capture me by yourself. Paid someone else to do your dirty work." Despite the intense heat and the burning pain that seared Batman's throat, the man's voice was as dark as ever. It flung through the air like sharp daggers.

Another sickening chuckle.

"Ah you should be flattered that I went to such lengths to capture you, Batsie. I hired the man as some insurance. Just to make sure you didn't escape again," the Joker said while stepping into the blistering hot room. His blood red lips rose into a gruesome smile, and a long object dangled from his silhouetted hand.

"And now I have you all to myself…"

Haunting, lifeless eyes bore into Batman. They moved closer to him as the nauseating laughter screeched through the air.

"What do you want, Joker?"

The eyes blinked as the sinister, white face moved inches away from Batman's face. Grisly scars laced the mad man's cheeks and neck. They bubbled up from under the hastily applied white paint and gave his face a demented appearance. Hot breath escaped from the man's red lips as he spoke his next words.

"I want the bird dead. And you're going to help me kill him."

Batman's blue eyes flashed with fear as the Joker jerked away and let out a sickening chuckle. He threw his hands up and whirled around.

"And not just him - the Titans too! Sure Birdie Boy escaped this time, but he'll be back and I'll be waiting fo- "

Batman yanked himself forward, cutting the man off mid-sentence.

"Robin was here?"

The Joker cocked his head quizzically and smiled, swinging the baseball bat in his hands.

"Course he was. Once Catwoman told him the 'heartbreaking' story of how you got captured, the boy came racing to your rescue," the Joker said in a mocking, sing-song tone.

The fifth hour…

The commotion…

The gunshots…

"It was quite sweet, honestly. Too bad he escaped…but he'll be back and I'll be waiting," the Joker said darkly. The blood red lips parted into a merciless smile.

"That is if the wound to his shoulder doesn't kill him first."

The sickening crackle echoed into the room as the haunting words filled Batman's head and an unusual sensation filled the man.

Fear.

It was so strong and powerful that it numbed the man's body, making him unable to breath. Catwoman had betrayed him and had put his boy in danger. Robin had been here. Robin had tried to rescue him. Robin had been injured – maybe fatally. After all these years, the boy still cared about him…

"Why? You have me Joker. Leave Robin out of this-"

The man jumped forward and slammed his hands on Batman's thighs, smacking the surface with a hard slap. Batman didn't flinch. He didn't move. He simply bore his furious eyes into the Joker's psychotic ones.

"You don't get it, Batman. Hundreds of villains have tried to defeat the Titans and failed! But this time I will win! Why? Because I have you! First I take out Robin, and then the rest of the Titans will fall like dominoes," the Joker said, mimicking the motion of falling with his hands. The grisly smile widened, and the man leaned in closer to Batman.

"But don't worry, once I have my victory, you'll be next…"

Hot breath brushed across Batman's face and the man stared down the Joker fearlessly.

"That's low Joker, even for you. They're a bunch of kids-"

"They're heroes! And heroes need to be stopped," the man snapped darkly. His voice was low and uncharacteristically sharp for the man. The crazed clown backed away as furious blue eyes dug into his back. He threw the baseball bat in the air and with surprising dexterity, caught it.

"Joker, don't do this," Batman growled. His voice was dark and smooth but a layer of desperation was present. It was small but it was there, and the Joker noticed it. The psychotic man grabbed onto it and pulled it out of the masked man.

"It's sad Batman. You're reduced to nothing because of a pile of chains…"

The man remained silent and tried to blur out the taunting insult. He would not listen. He would not allow the Joker to mess with his mind.

The crazed clown walked over to the clock and stroked the cold, metal surface lovingly.

"You can't save them, Batman. You can't do anything."

But he did hear the Joker. He did hear the truth behind the words. And he let them burn into his mind. The mocking voice bled into his soul and ripped his heart to pieces.

"If only you had this," The Joker said, turning his attention to Batman's utility belt. He rubbed his hands against the smooth metal and smiled his ghastly, unnerving smile.

Batman yanked against the chains as frustration and anger crawled up his spine. He couldn't let this happen. He had to protect Robin. He had to protect the Titans. He couldn't let this man win. He could let the Joker defeat him.

"JOKER. LET-"

"Ahhh yelling will get you nowhere, Bats!" The Joker cried while striding forward. The long, metal bat swung dangerously from his hand.

"Well, I've enjoyed our conversation, haven't you?"

Anger. Raw, hot anger coursed through Batman's veins.

"I swear, when I get loose-"

The sickening laugh cut him off. It bounced across the room, cloaking everything in a demented, darkness. The Joker's haunting eyes pierced into the man as he drew closer. The next words were a mere whisper in the tense air.

"You won't get loose, Bat. Your wings have been clipped."

The quiet, dark words fell on the floor with roaring a smack. Batman stared up into his attacker's eyes as the cold fear of uncertainty wrapped around his restrained form. The haunting red smile seeped into his mind.

"Lights out, Batsie."

A crushing force slammed into Batman's forehead. Sparks and stars flashed before the man's eyes in a blinding wave. The last thing he heard was the stomach-churning laugh, before his world faded to black.

A/N: I originally didn't plan to write this part with Batman so if you liked it/didn't like it, let me know!

Next Update: Hmmm, I hope this next chapter will be done by Tuesday but it needs a lot of work! Slade and Robin will finally confront each other, and I want to get it right! So don't be mad if it's a little later than Tuesday...

Thanks for reading! I hoped you enjoyed it!