"How much longer?" came the pallid whine of Beast Boy, his puberty-cracking squeaks bounding off the narrow, solid walls in distant echoes.
Cyborg's glaring red eye snapped back to look at him, shushing another round of oncoming complaints. By the reeking body language of Robin, it was clear that he was in no mood to tolerate petulancy. Starfire heaved a sad sigh while observing the state of her friends, her main concern locked onto her dearest companion.
They had trudged through the tiny tunnels for hours, mindlessly circling the caverns. Still an eerie, uncomfortable pitch black, the only glow sparkled from Cyborg's built-in flashlight. A caravan of tired teenagers, they dragged their sore feet. A solitary energy radiated from Robin, his arms swinging violently as he stomped into the ground, each gained foot making him exponentially furious.
They passed a frustratingly familiar scratch in the wall of stone, and they flinched in anticipation of their leader's rage. No doubt, he had seen the repetition, and stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of the team huddled against one another, practically feeling the heat explode off the boy in waves.
His hands started to shake, and before they could stop him, he slammed a fist into the solid barrier, denting it. Cyborg and Beast Boy were mildly impressed but overwhelmingly anxious, while Starfire gazed pointedly at the blood beginning to ooze from his gloved knuckles.
"Cyborg," he ordered, his voice dry. "Knock it down."
Not wishing to anger the kid again, he immediately pointed his sonic cannon at a random block and fired. As expected, it tumbled down, and they jumped out of the way as the tiny landslide crashed.
Dust clearing, they were thoroughly disappointed as the hole revealed yet another dark, empty tunnel.
"Can't you track her?" the boy-wonder snapped, turning his aggression.
Hardening his mouth into a firm line, Cyborg eyed him with a steady gaze.
"I had a clear signal, but ever since we came in here, I've got squat. This entire place is a dead zone, man."
There had to be another way, some other loophole they could slip through. Robin could feel it, they were so close, unbearably near. He spat a boiling wad at the ground, unsure how else he could release his blinding fury without breaking his other hand.
"Do you remember any specific coordinates?" he barked again, not even looking at the robot's face.
"Doesn't work like that, Robin. I had a faint direction of where she was, but nothing pin point," he explained. "All I can remember is that it looked north."
All the pieces floated in the bird's head, not fitting the way he wanted to, but they still provided insight. Furrowing his brow until a migraine sprouted, he stumbled through the information.
"Is there any way you can find a zone that isn't dead?"
Puzzled by the obscure question, Cyborg gave him a confused look.
"Wha-?"
"What I'm saying," Robin interrupted, his knees wobbling in anticipation. "There's no way Slade can be holed up here, and not keep tabs. If every output is weak, then he must be somewhere that has good connection, the only connection."
Getting straight to work, Cyborg led the way, his arm buzzing right in front of the light.
"I can't guarantee its accuracy, especially down here," he began as they all followed. "But my system is roughly designed to find any sources if they're in close proximity."
Invigorated with new hope, Robin could barely keep himself from charging. Hanging so closely, he almost ran right into Cyborg's hard, mechanic torso. Balancing himself, he was about to tear into the robot, but a huge blast of power made him bite his tongue- an unexpected sonic fire right into the dead-end slab of stone.
The thick dirt cloud wafted and eased, they all peered uneasily in.
Robin smirked, a cocky, intense grin as his white-hot eyes pierced ahead. They continued, at a much quicker pace, easily avoiding the sweep of the lone, beeping security camera.
She felt his eye upon her, thoughtfully studying as she put her head into the toilet bowl once more. Not even offering a pat on the shoulder or at least a distracting comment as she heaved heavy gags. She got the feeling he enjoyed seeing her so miserable.
As if he hadn't put her through enough.
Her sweating, pale body shook with clammy goose flesh, prickling light hairs while she lurched.
She had run abruptly from their shared, mid-day meal, straight into the quaint lavatory. Rolling his eye as he heard her pained, queasy squeals, he strode lazily in to provide a hand should she fall foolishly.
He wouldn't put it past the clumsy girl to put the child at risk because she couldn't stifle her reoccurring sicknesses.
Finally, she slumped back, the awful feeling throbbing to a dull ache inside. Heart still beating fast, she leaned against the opposite wall, dreadfully exhausted.
Still, he stood and observed- his tainted gaze always upon her. Suddenly becoming horribly angry, she peered down at her open neck and began to listlessly trace the disgusting marks with her fingertips. Burning, she dug her unkempt nails into her skin, trying to scratch off the disease laden in her flesh.
But it wouldn't come off, it never did. More ferociously now, she attempted to draw blood. Even just a little patch of her own skin would be enough to keep her from going insane. She hated it, how it always glittered right in her peripheral vision, taunting her.
When the teenager actually succeeded in her masochistic action, a droplet of red liquid dripping down her chest and behind the cover of the hospital gown, he intervened. Before she could yell or scream for him to stop, he snatched her palms in his usual vice grip.
"Now, now," he patronized, and she noticed the way his eyes swirled in sarcasm. "Let's not doing anything rash, love."
He then gave the back of her hand a reassuring, but ultimately humiliating pat, holding her fingers close to his makeshift, masked chin.
At that, she girlishly gasped, appalled by him. The sarcastic comments she could take, usually, but the way he feigned concern made her stained flesh crawl with rage. He knew all her buttons and pushed every one, mastering the art of annoyance.
Quickly, she yanked her hands away, and he allowed her.
"You…" she flustered- in such anger she couldn't properly think. "You…asshole!"
His eye gave her a look of satiric disappointment, and she knew the words before they ricocheted out of the slits.
"Why, Raven," he said, holding his hand to his chest in a posh gesture. "I'm hurt."
Growling, her canines sparkled as she curled her lip venomously.
"Oh dear, it seems I've kidnapped the wrong Titan," he commented, his voice acidic. "Heel, dog."
"Shut up!" she hissed, lowering her shoulders menacingly.
Giving a wry chuckle, he found her feline crouch to have the opposite effect. Three months pregnant, still shaking from nausea, and a set of nasty tangles braided in her uncombed hair, he found it adorable that she still fought.
"Stop it!" she snapped, her face in a permanent glare.
His nonexistent patience thinned- her tone was inexcusable.
"Calm…"
"No, I will not!" she cut off, a spray of spit flying from her crazed mouth. "I won't do anything you say, anymore! You psychopathic, insecure, arrogant, evil son of a bitch!"
Part of him wanted to torture the stupid girl, but he decided that the offspring might be affected in the aftermath.
Pity, he thought, his fingers wiggling with addiction as he thought of her bleeding, beaten, and swollen before him.
Like many times before, he aggravatingly walked away, not even giving her silly words a reaction.
Seeing him cowardly retreat made her even more ferocious, and she cooked up a threat he couldn't refuse.
"The first chance, the very first chance I get, I'll kill it! The minute it enters this horrible world, I'll strangle it with my bare hands!" she shouted out after him.
The moment it was said, she regretted it. For as he heard her rash wailing, it was all he needed to justify punishing her. Turning sickly slow, twisting around, she felt her breath leave in such pure terror, a feeling she hadn't been able to conjure in months. His horrific stare boring into her innocent blues, his glare made her burn and freeze in a confusing purgatory of emotion.
Arduously, he made two paused strides back to where she was curled against the wall. In instinct, she scooted and scrambled her spine further into the smooth stone, foolishly thinking she could just disappear through, away from his grasp.
His frigid presence illuminated right into her bones, just inches from her. Crouching down to her level, he reached a frisky hand to her neck, tenderly caressing it. He felt her frenzied heart beat like thunder, the vein itself pumping.
A frown beneath the mask, his eye squinted in a short burst of rage as he gripped her trachea in a devastating hold. Coughing, trying to truly, physically respire, she flailed weak legs beneath him.
But, he wasn't going to strangle her, not yet at least. No, he picked her up by the scruff of her skin and dragged her out of the room, pathetic joints clacking against the marble floor.
A million different ideas bounced around in his head, and he wasn't inspired by most of them. She needed to be taught a serious lesson, a session that would permanently break her stubborn spirit. He thought they had been over this, that she had finally slumped to his will, but her pesky hormones were on red alert.
Groaning incoherent apologies and pleads beneath his gloves, he blocked her rambling out as he flicked through all the possibilities. She needed all her blood, her strength, unfortunately, so he couldn't starve or cut into her.
That also ruled out beating her into a coma.
Drugs?
No, nothing that would harm the child.
This made it rather difficult. On top of that, she seemed very resistant to pain. Verbal abuse seemed highly effective, but it wasn't the time for one of his glorious rants, he needed action- a swift retribution to bury her once and for all.
His own two feet led the way while his mind remained churning, the girl still hanging. Noticing the rough texture of the lobby ground, and a few scrapes on her open legs, he sighed and picked her up, placing her like a fresh kill over his shoulder.
In fact, as he thought out all the things he could do to her, his hands were tied- he couldn't risk it. Grinding his teeth, she felt a massive quiver of frozen fury shimmer through his body.
Anything too dramatic and he would most likely regret it.
He would not underestimate his actions after the first too failed apprentices.
Still moving, he became aware of where he was taking them, the girl began to idiotically beseech, louder than before. What was she blubbering about now?
It was then he recognized the dimming lights of the northern tunnel- it was too perfect. Cackling with a pleased but dreadful bark of laughter, she began screaming.
"Please, no!" she wailed, pounding her weak fists into his back. "I won't fight back, I swear. I didn't mean it…"
He couldn't get over the feeling of pure, unadulterated victory. He didn't need to epically scheme or plan anything, but his body lusted for it, all he needed to do was sit back and let it control him. They both trembled- her, in the highest level of denial and anxiety; him, in egotistical ecstasy.
Flinging the rich wooden door open, he entered the candlelit bedroom- its blood, red sheets sending her into shock.
"No, not again! Please…please, I swear I won't..." she whispered, snatching onto any loose pieces of his clothing.
Unfortunately, this came back to bite her when she actually managed to flick off one of his shoulder guards, the metal thudding into the carpet.
Filthy thoughts entered his mind, her naked body before him while her eyes hollowed and darkened into servitude. He wasted no time, throwing her onto the comfort of the covers while he held her down. Leaning in close, his mask brushed her ear as she shook with fear.
"Beg me not to."