Author's Note: Following this chapter will be two more, Bloodlust and Graduate. Bloodlust will conclude Jason's training as Robin while Graduate will detail his first patrol with Batman as Robin. Both other chapters will be published before Sunday afternoon. Enjoy.
Progression
The boy has been in training for twelve weeks. In that time, he has gained twenty-five pounds of lean muscle mass whilst further reducing his body-fat. Such results in such a short timeframe are phenomenal, even by my standards. Jason's astonishing results have surprisingly little to do with the demanding physical training and strict diet I have placed him on. The boy's determination and refusal to quit in any session, no matter the pain, are what have allowed him such fantastic gains. He wants this so badly. He wants to be Robin more than anything else. That much is readily apparent to me.
Jason has never turned his anger and frustration on me. I know he has wanted to, many times. His eyes regard me with contempt when the training reaches breaking point. He wants to scream his head off at me, hurl abuse at my standards, my lack of pity, but he never opens his mouth. Every time I sense him ready to explode, Jason grits his teeth and carries on. Sometimes he screams, but only ever to force the last push-up out, the last pull-up. His control and discipline are remarkable for someone of his background. I find myself in awe of his dedication often.
Already the boy has proven himself stronger and more resilient than his predecessor. Jason can bench-press almost twice his own body weight and possesses endurance beyond any expectations. Although his flexibility, speed and acrobatic skills are not on par with Dick's, they are comparable. Jason's stamina at present is greater than Dick's by some way, an incredible achievement.
"Hold it." I say as Jason enters a minute-and-a-half of holding a handstand atop a three-inch platform suspended six- feet off the ground. This will be the fortieth and final time in this session he is required to hold a handstand for two minutes. In-between handstands he has been required to perform repetitions of push-ups, box-jumps, crunches and basic gymnastic manoeuvres to push his body to its limits of endurance. So far, the session has lasted one hour and fifty-nine minutes. Should he be able to last the final thirty seconds, he will be deemed fit enough to progress to actual training for mantle of Robin. This particular session is called Conditioning Five and gifts those who complete it the physical conditioning of airborne combat soldiers and international athletes. Dick failed this session five times before passing. Jason has yet to fail any assessment; he does not look like upsetting that trend even now. His entire body position remains perfectly straight, his arms locked-out. Although sweating profusely, he is still not shaking from the strain.
The time comes and goes. Jason remains in position. I allow him to continue holding it for an extra minute. When there is still no sign of buckling, I let him carry on. It is another three minutes and thirty-one seconds before the boy's arms begin to shake. "Time." Jason's response to this command is to gently bend his arms and then force himself back off the platform. He lands on his feet before sinking to one knee. Seasoned gymnasts would struggle with such a rigorous examination of their conditioning; Jason is an amateur, but made it look effortless. He is special. I walk over to him.
"Congratulations. You have passed Conditioning Five." Jason looks up at me, glaring.
"Asshole. I held that last one for like six minutes." He snaps, his breathing visibly laboured from the effort.
"I knew you could take it."
"I still think it's unfair." The boy informs me, rising to his feet by sheer willpower. He will not let it degenerate into a proper argument and therefore will hold his tongue. His expression softens and he nods his head at me. "Thanks for the pass, Bruce; it means a lot."
"You have earned the accolade. Dinner will commence in an hour." I say. Jason does not begin to move immediately. He stays still, looking at me expectantly for a few moments. I am still unclear whether this boy wishes me to be affectionate towards him or not. His stay has so far been devoid of emotional bonding or any relationship beyond that of a mentor and student. Alfred has warmed towards his presence and the two of them seem to share an amicable friendship. I am reluctant to touch him because of his earlier abuse and refrain from doing so whenever possible. He appears indifferent to lack of physical contact, but is very proficient at hiding his emotions.
"Okay. See ya." The boy replies before turning to leave. He staggers for a few steps, before forcing himself to walk normally. It is very painful to do, given the amount of lactic acid in his muscles, but Jason is determined. I watch him ascend the steps.
"Jason, wait."
Jason stops halfway up the steps and looks back at me. "Yeah Bruce?"
I consider walking up the steps and giving him a hug or something else of a fatherly and reassuring nature at that moment. Even if such a gesture is received negatively, at least it will clarify our positions with one another. But I do not. I do not want to risk hurting him in anyway. "Nothing. I'm sorry to have troubled you."
Jason does not appear at the table on time. This is to be expected; he is always late. Alfred no longer chides him for it. The old man understands the boy still finds a strict set of rules and timings for meals somewhat awkward. After a further fifteen minutes, Jason enters the dining room and sits down. He still does not like 'dressing-up' for dinner in the evenings and has subsequently come in a clean set of grey work-out sweats and red Air Jordan's. His hair is damp from his hot shower, but aside from that he is well-presented. He waves at me and greets Alfred a few moments later.
"How long did you spend in the ice-bath?" I ask as the old man sets down our meals, grilled chicken breast, asparagus tips and sweet potatoes. It is the same thing we eat every night during training. It provides the right balance of protein, carbohydrates and minerals to repair shredded muscles after a workout. Jason answers my question without looking up from his plate.
"Twenty-five minutes." I only ever recommend fifteen minutes in the ice-bath. Any time beyond that does not provide a positive effect on flushing lactic acid from the body; it merely numbs extremities and encourages the onset of hypothermia. The boy seems to enjoy it and I am unclear as to why.
"And the hot shower afterwards?"
"Around ten." The hot shower afterwards is to warm the body back to an agreeable temperature and soothe the muscles. Jason takes an ice-bath followed by a hot shower after every single training session, without exception. His body responds well to this treatment.
"Jason, are you happy with our current arrangement?" The boy looks up from his plate, having already consumed half its contents. His appetite is ravenous to say the least; he does not have to force himself to eat like Dick. I would suppose he is more grateful for it after living on the streets. He offers me a puzzled stare.
"Arrangement?" He repeats as if unsure of the word's meaning.
"Yes, the manner in which you live here at the house. Do you like your room and Alfred's home-schooling and the training we conduct in the cave?"
"Yeah. They're all great."
"So, there's no aspect of your current lifestyle you do not like?" Jason's puzzled stare morphs into a worried frown.
"Have I done something wrong?" He asks, putting his cutlery down on the plate. I shake my head.
"No, not at all, I just…"
"What Master Bruce is trying to say, Master Jason, is; are you happy that he is not acting like a father towards you?" Alfred interrupts whilst presenting the boy with a tumbler of ice-cold water. I am not usually fond of the old man's interruptions when I speak. However, this occasion proved to be perfect for his input. He has successfully articulated my sentiments in a direct way I cannot do in such matters. Jason's frown disappears instantly and he nods in understanding of my question.
"No, I don't mind. I'm not your kid, so I don't expect you to treat me like a son or anything. To be honest, I think it's cool you'd put up with me like I am for this long and not try to be a dad, bossing me around and junk." The boy pauses, seeming to regret admitting so much, before adding, "Nobody's ever let me be who I am before. You're the only guy I've ever met who doesn't treat me like a stupid kid or a plaything. It's cool if I don't want to say anymore, right?" Jason looks like he would be uneasy admitting anything further. I gesture with my hand.
"That's fine. I think I understand your position."
"It's, uh, okay if you want to hug me or anything, but don't start tucking me in at night or reading me stories. That'd be kinda creepy." He tells me with a crooked smile, a gesture that straddles the line between nervousness and sarcasm. Both I and Alfred find it very endearing. I nod my head in appreciation.
"I understand, Jason." We return to dinner in mutual silence.
It is almost ten p.m. I am presently at Jason's bedroom door. I intend to inform him of tomorrow's activities. He is going to begin formal training for the mantle of Robin and this will begin with an introduction to combat. I will have to fast-track him through all grades of Karate, Jujitsu, Taekwondo, Kung-Fu, Krav Manga and various other martial arts disciplines if he is to acquire a large enough skill-set to engage a diverse range of targets. If he applies himself with the same vigorous work-ethic he has displayed thus far, I have every confidence he will become my partner. He will earn the right to be Robin. I knock on the door.
"Yo?"
"Jason, it's Bruce. Can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure, door's open, big guy."
When I open the door, I am greeted by the sight of Jason, clad only in his boxers, flexing in the mirror. "Am I disturbing you?" I ask, my hand still on the door handle. Without looking away from his reflection, the boy shakes his head.
"Nah. I'm just checking out the results of all the training. I look pretty sick, right? I mean, a thirteen-year-old isn't supposed to have this kind of muscle, not by a LONG way." He locks in a front double-biceps pose before turning on his heel so that his right arm is side-on to the mirror. Jason's physique is highly impressive, both in its level of detailing and size. I nod.
"Yes, well, I just thought I should mention the training schedule for tomorrow." The boy tenses his abdominals, placing his hands on his hips. He then tenses the remainder of his upper body; it splinters into striations whilst his abdominals appear carved from granite.
"Sure, I'm all-ears."
I brief him on tomorrow's activities. He continues to pose, not seeming even remotely embarrassed by my presence. It is strange how little he cares about people viewing him in such a radical state of undress. All I can assume is that his past was far more unpleasant than I already imagine it to be. After ten minutes, I have finished saying what I wished to inform him of. I then go to leave.
"Hey Bruce?" When I turn around, Jason has slipped his hooded top back over his torso and is looking at me.
"Yes, Jason?"
"If you want, you can call me Jay-Jay."
"I thought you hated that nickname."
"Only if other people were around. If it was just me and mom, Jay-Jay was fine. And…my dad used to call me it as well." Of course. The boy misses his parents. He has been starved of love and attention for over a year since his father's murder and would just like something familiar to comfort himself with. His changes in lifestyle have been radical to say the least and I would imagine the house and my wealth are still somewhat alien to the boy. At present, Jason seems very vulnerable, stood before me dressed as he is. I fight the urge to hug him, feeling it would not appropriate. I merely pose a question I feel the boy is too proud to just come out with.
"Would you like me to call you Jay-Jay when we're alone?"
"Yeah, that'd be nice."
"You miss them, don't you?"
"Every day. But it hurts less now. Being here makes it hurt less." These are small maybe insignificant gestures to most people, but not for us. Jason has finally shared some of his feelings with me, something he has so far avoided and admitted he would like more human contact with me. It is obvious the boy wants a certain amount of affection now and further bonding will help strengthen our partnership when in the field. Jason offers me a grateful smile and I nod in appreciation.
"Night Bruce."
"Goodnight, Jay-Jay."