Time and the perception of it is one of the most addling experiences that the human mind can endure. Hours can pass as if they were mere minutes, and mere minutes can pass as if they were hours. Such was the experience that plagued Robin during the first few days. There was no possible way to keep track of time. It was impossible to focus on anything except for the pain and the exhaustion.
After the torture had begun neither the Joker nor Harley spoke a single word. They just stood there silently, watching as their test squirmed and yelped in pain. That was the only sound that could be heard throughout the abandoned halls of Arkham, the endless yelling. Time crawled to a halt. The past was forgotten, the future dark and misty, leaving Robin trapped in one endless present, a nightmare that he could not escape from no matter how hard he tried.
There could be no release. At first Robin had hoped that the level of pain he was experiencing would cause his body to overload, allowing him an opportunity, no matter how short, to slip into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. But it seemed that even that hope had been denied to him.
The Joker may have been mad, but that madness rarely got in the way of his genius. For the Joker was indeed some kind of genius, an expert at chemical engineering amongst other fields. The Joker had created a cocktail of chemicals and neural agents that would ensure that Robin would remain conscious during his "therapy sessions" as Harley had labeled them. The drugs pumped into Robin's system kept him awake. He couldn't lose consciousness, he couldn't even sleep. Even when the electrical torture ended the nightmare never ceased. The Joker and Harley would take shifts, allowing one to get some rest while the other monitored Robin's vitals and ensured that the drugs were allowed to keep pumping through his bloodstream without overwhelming his systems.
The Joker had thought everything through. The electrical conductors could not be used 24/7 as it would be a strain on the generator. But for the Joker's plan to work Robin could not be allowed even the smallest of breaks. And so the Joker had concocted a poison of his own design, an agent which attacked the nerve endings in the subject's body, activating every pain receptor in the brain and keeping it on so long as the toxin remained in the body.
In short, every time Robin was injected with this toxin he felt as if every inch of his body was on fire.
He tried to hold out hope in those first opening hours and days. Batman would come, he'd save him soon enough. Any second now he would burst down from the roof, pound the snot out of the Joker and rescue him.
But the skylight above revealed the cold truth. Day turned to night above his head and night turned to day. The cycle repeated itself over and over and over again. Robin couldn't keep track. He had gone days without sleep, days without food or water. He was delirious with pain.
Where was Batman?
The clowns hadn't asked any questions. They hadn't interrogated him or tried to figure out who he was. They just kept shocking him and injecting him, the sneering grins on their faces never wavering for a second.
An eternity had passed. Surely years had gone by. Surely Robin would die of agony. How much could one person take?
Then the shocks stopped and the serums weren't injected.
His body was sore, his muscles spasmed as his head pounded. His eyesight was blurred and his throat felt as though it were on fire.
For the first time since it had begun the Joker spoke.
"I wonder where our dear dark knight is. Surely he hasn't forgotten you." Robin tried to tune him out. The Joker was vain and liked to talk. But he couldn't block him out.
"After all it has been five days and I haven't seen either cape or cowl. Maybe he has forgotten you." Robin tried to speak up at that. Batman cared about him. He was like a son to Robin and Batman was like a father to him. They had always watched each others back. Robin shook his head in denial of the Joker's statement.
"What? You don't think he's given up on you? Ha, ha, ha, ha. Please. Grow up bird brain. This is the real world. Do you really think that Batman honestly cares about your well being? He doesn't. I may not know the full details of your little Bat family, but I've been on the outside watching in for some time now, and I can safely say that old Batsy doesn't care at all about anyone but himself. Tell me, do you remember the first boy blunder? I'm sure the two of you met. Him and the Bat were a lot closer than you ever were. They were quite the team. They traded one liners, strategized and generally kept each other informed. They trusted one another. Or so the first Robin liked to believe.
I saw it clear as day, the frustration, the resentment, the mounting contempt. Batman needed a lackey to aid him in his little crusade, but that was all the first Robin ever was to him, a minion, a stooge, an errand boy taking orders from a crazy kook in a bat costume. I saw that Batman always demanded everything of his kids. He expected the world of them. He demanded their total obedience, their complete commitment to the cause. He demanded that they put themselves in harm's way for his crusade. He demanded that they sacrifice their lives to this hopeless war on crime that he seemed so obsessed with.
But it was never good enough for the old man. The first bird boy could never satisfy his endless demands. I could see that. Inevitably Robin quit and left Batman behind. You probably know this better than I do, so I'll ask you. Did Batman ever try to patch things up with old what's his face?"
Robin knew that he hadn't. Bruce and Dick had never truly reconciled after their falling out. Robin didn't say anything, but for the Joker the look on his face was more than enough.
"I thought not." The Joker said with satisfaction. He leaned in closer and forced Robin, who had been trying to look away, to look him in the eye.
"Don't you understand Robin? You're expendable. You, Nightwing, Batgirl, you are all expendable. You are soldiers serving a mad general out on his own little jihad. You can be replaced. It has happened in the past. It may have took a few years but soon enough Batman found someone new to put on the Robin suit. It wouldn't surprise me if Batman was having some new protégé measured for their new costume right now."
"I…I…chose…to put this…mask on." Robin whispered haltingly, his hoarse throat allowing him only to speak those words like a croaking frog. He was trying to gather his thoughts, trying to think of a way out of this, trying to think of a way to refute the Joker's argument. But his exhausted mind just could not function well. If only I could get some rest. He thought.
The Joker cackled loudly at this announcement, wiping away a nonexistent tear of mirth from his eye before patting Robin on the head in a falsely placating manner. "Sure you did son, sure you did."
The Joker turned around and walked over to a control display. He began to fiddle with a few buttons and levers with an almost bored expression. "I've known Batman since before you were born." He said over his shoulder. I like to think that I know him very well. I know how that Bat thinks. He is a schemer, a manipulator by his nature. He uses the shadows to trick people into doing what he wants. They may think that they are following their own path, but in reality the people in Batman's little world are nothing more than marionettes, serving Batman's purposes."
"He wants to help people." Robin responded, his voice perhaps a little stronger now.
"He doesn't care about you or anyone else for that matter. All he cares about is his own pain. Maybe that is why he puts on that outfit. Maybe beating up criminals makes him feel better about himself and the life he leads. Perhaps having you and Batgirl there helps him cope a little, but in the end it has always been about him. Nothing else matters."
Batman had always been rather cold and distant, this was true. But Robin tried to use reason. He had his reasons to be cold and distant.
A small voice whispered in the back of his mind. "But why couldn't he just get over it? You got over your father's death Tim. Why can't he just let go like the rest of us? Didn't Dick basically say the same thing as the Joker had when we first met? Didn't Nightwing claim that Batman was manipulative and selfish? Wouldn't Nightwing of all people know?"
Robin didn't have an answer. A minute passed in silence. He had no real answer to give.
The Joker's smile grew wider.
"We'll talk again later."
As he turned to leave he pulled down on the lever once again, and Robin was once more blinded with pain.