Well I didn't end up updating right away. Sorry. But this is my longest chapter yet so please enjoy.
Disclaimer: So I don't own Young Justice. Sue me. Of course the reason I'm writing this disclaimer is so you don't do just that...
Some people say the pure anticipation of pain is worse than pain itself. Well, Robin wanted to go find those people and hit them a few times with a crow bar, see if they changed their mind.
The pain was definitely far worse. Robin could hear his nose crack as the crow bar smashed into it. Then there was the split millisecond before his nerves registered the pain. In that millisecond, Robin's eyes flew open under his crooked domino mask and, if the mask had been off, there would have been a clear view of his baby blues as wide as dinner plates. And then the pain hit, burning like red hot pokers stabbing relentlessly into his face, but Robin didn't scream out. The bird didn't even make a peep. He remembered his training, the best training imaginable. He breathed through the pain, not allowing the Joker its satisfaction.
Joker's ears waited. They waited for the refreshing scream that always came. But when all he heard was silence, he became annoyed. He looked back to see where his symphony had gone. The boy's nose was broken, that was for sure. Blood flowed out of it like a mini waterfall and dripped off the boys chin, but his mouth was completely closed. Not even a moan escaped his tightly shut lips. The Joker had seen people yell bloody murder from less painful wounds than this, but this boy, this tiny, pint sized midget, didn't utter a sound. His bird wouldn't sing.
"Oooooohhh it looks like someone has been taking Batsy lessons. You're both hard eggs to crack. Now come on, you got to admit it hurts a little bit? I put a lot of effort and love into that swing. Show some appreciations!" Joker then proceeded to flick Robin's freshly broken and bleeding nose. Robin let slip a short grunt in response as his nose alit with fresh pain.
"Well it's an improvement to the silent treatment, but I think we can do better. By the end of this, I'm going to have you, my little birdie, singing me a beautiful ballad." With that Joker swung his crowbar once more at the Boy Wonder, this time aiming lower for his chest where it connected to his rips with a sickening CRACK. But still, Robin did not scream. Even when the process was repeated with the same results, the boy stayed silent.
Robin knew he could not hold it in much longer. Soon the Joker would find bigger and better targets to smash and he would not be able to keep his mouth closed. He had to end this before he was completely incapacitated. Otherwise, he would have no hope for escape. Scenarios played through Robin's head one after the other. Most ended with him in a bloody, broken pulp under the Joker's feet, but there had to be some way out of this. Something he didn't catch before. But what could it be?
The Joker looked with disgust at his crowbar, as if it had been its fault his birdie wouldn't sing. He flung it aside with a clang, before reaching back into his blood stained bag for a new toy. Something more fun. Something that was bound to make the bird let loose a tune. That's when he spied his favorite paint brush. Grinning maliciously, he unsheathed it and pulled it from the bag.
When Joker's hand came out of the bag, it was holding a huge, shiny, silver carving knife. Robin couldn't help but shiver. This was not good, not good at all. That knife was not meant for cutting carrots and he knew he would become a pin cushion if he didn't act fast. Robin tested the bonds on his hands again. They were just as impossibly tight as they had been before. What had he expected? Them to magically deteriorate in the last ten minutes? His body shook in frustration and that's when he noticed it. When he shook so did his chair. That meant it was not bolted to the floor, allowing him a small, but useful, amount of mobility. Robin grinned to himself. Now came the hard part. He had to time this perfectly or he would end up with one less arm then he would normally desire.
"You ready for my newest toy, Boy Blunder?" cackled the clown. "This one's one of my favorites and it make such beautiful paintings. 'Fraid the only color on my pallet is red though. Shame." Joker then swung the knife at Robin, aiming for the soft flesh of his stomach.
Robin saw it coming. He was prepared and knew what he had to do. Right before the weapon hit its mark, Robin twisted his body as hard he could and rocked the chair in a complete 180. This positioned the Joker's knife right above Robin's bound hands that stuck out the back of the chair. The knife past right through the taunt ropes, releasing Robin from their bind and keeping him unscathed. Robin then quickly used his now unbound hands to untie his legs and flip away before the Joker had even managed to blink.
Though his newly broken ribs had given him protesting jolts of pain after his sudden movement, a smile danced over Robin's lips. "Why thank you Joker. How kind of you to untie me. I just knew you were a nice guy at heart," he taunted.
Joker sneered in reply, "Oh you must think you're all that now Birdie Boy. The cat's meow, the dog's bark, the bat's…hey what sound does a bat make anyway?" But before the Joker could think on it, Robin had jumped at him, and kicked the knife out of his hands. He then gave Joker a swift chop to the neck, rendering him completely unconscious with his joking smile still plastered on his face.
"If you must know, bats prefer not to make a sound that you can hear," Robin remarked to Joker's unconscious form. He then took a deep, shaky breath, releasing all the tension that had been pent up in his body. Now that his adrenaline rush had left him, his nose and ribs were really starting to throb. He didn't think they were extremely serious, but he would definitely want Alfred to patch them up when he got back to the cave. He then tied Joker's inanimate form to the same chair he has been tied in just moments before. Good think Joker had conveniently forgotten to remove his utility belt…that didn't sound like him at all.
But suddenly, the shiny open case on the table next to him caught his eye. What had Joker called it again, a dream machine? It was certainly an intriguing piece of equipment. He would have to warn Batman about it when he got back to the cave.
He was about to leave when an idea struck him. What did the Joker dream about? The evil clown prince shrouded in mystery. No one knew anything about him, not even the great detective Batman himself. His past and even his identity were a mystery to all, but just two feet away from him was the key to unlocking that mystery, a device that would allow him to go straight into the Joker's dreams. What sort of nightmares would haunt the most crazed, evil villain off all time? The chance to find out was too good to be true.
Robin picked up the tubes from the table and inserted one in to Joker's pale arm and one into his own. He sat down in Joker had occupied before and pressed the button in the middle of the case, just as he had seen Joker do. In just a few seconds he could feel himself getting sleepy. Then his eye lids slipped shut and he slipped deep into the recesses of the clown's dark mind.
Did you like it? I ended up cutting the Robin wump short this time, but there will be more. Please tell me your concerns, likes, dislikes, favorite foods, whatever in a Review.
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