"Ow!"
The team stiffened and whisked around at the noise that echoed through the eerie tunnel. At the sight of Beast Boy grabbing onto his foot, Robin curled a lip in frustration.
"What is it now?" he whispered ferociously.
They were getting close, too close for anything to jeopardize their position.
A tendril of Robin's jet-black hair crept into his eye as he stared down Beast Boy with an over exaggerated glare. Under its weight, the shape shifter stalled his groaning and gave a sheepish grin.
"Blister," he said laughing nervously and giving a shrug.
Scoffing, the boy wonder began to turn around again, getting into his death march rhythm once more. They all had scratches and, especially, blisters from the hours of walking on rigged ground, but no one had complained. It was safe to say all of their feet were bleeding and sore, but they trudged on at the same pace, winding their way through the paralyzing dark.
Because of the constant throbbing, their spirits were an overwhelming low; however, their dimming hopes would be sparked anew by the presence of another electronic installed by Slade- a camera here, a sensor there, and of course the increasing strength of a signal somewhere in the shadows.
Following Cyborg's tiny light, no one spoke or made a sound, the tension of what was to come weighing down with each passing second. What would they find at the end? Would Raven be alive? And if she was, what unimaginable horror was Slade inflicting upon her?
These questions tightened the chokehold on Robin's mind. Stress and anxiety were eating away at his insides the more he thought about his pale friend. None of the others understood, how could they? He had been the one that Slade paid attention to, the one that had been the first victim of the one eyed man.
Although he hated to admit it, there were many things that he did not know about Slade, or himself, or Raven, even.
He didn't know that part of him was perhaps jealous of Slade's new interest in Raven. And because of this, Robin hated himself all the more.
He didn't know how sick Slade could be and was. He only had an inkling of the rage that manifested in the psychopath's mind.
His thoughts began to race toward the memories of being cramped in the dark as the villain's captured servant. Sleep was impossible, death was around every corner, and he was never alone. Sure, Slade would creep and disappear into the shadows whenever he could, but Robin always felt his icy presence lurking at every turn.
He remembered his first night.
"Really, Robin. This is getting tiresome."
Panting into the cement, Robin pounded a clenched fist into the stone, tearing the skin beneath the dark jade glove. His frustration was overpowering, he had never had this much difficulty. Slade had been manhandling him with such ease, how could it be possible?
He had been so close, too. Only inches from his outstretched fingertips lay the detonator, peacefully sitting in a halo of radiance amidst the thick shadow.
But, like all the other times, Slade interfered, and he had broken a few of Robin's ribs doing so.
A chuckle rang from the darkness, and Robin snarled, spittle spilling over his cut, puffy lip.
"I can understand your frustration," Slade said, standing right above the teen, taunting him, arms crossed militarily behind him as he spoke. "You hate losing as much as I do. Another quality we both have in common."
Robin's toes curled into themselves as Slade made yet another remark on their similarities. At first it was ignored, he could put up with the rants of sociopaths, but it was starting to wear even his defenses down after Slade continually made it the theme of the fight.
It wasn't enough that the masked man was already humiliating him physically. The audacity of tearing his mental walls down was enough to make Robin lose all self control in order to stall Slade's advances.
Without another word, Robin sprung from the ground and threw his shoulder into one devastating punch, finally connecting with Slade's jaw, catching him off guard. Building on the success, he forced another blow into the makeshift cheek, his knuckles popping and breaking from sheer strength.
Slade collided with the floor a few yards away, the metal on his uniform clanging like bells in the tense quiet. Robin gave him a hard stare, making sure he wasn't about to get back up, and limped victoriously to where the sought-after detonator stood.
In the ring of light, he snatched it in his palm.
"It's over, Slade," he announced, not even knowing if the man was still conscious, but feeling satisfied nonetheless with the ordeal finally coming to an end.
But, as his pride began to swell, the gadget imploded, its pieces shattering and falling to the ground in ashes. His eyes widened, the mask that guised his astonishment creased, and he became dumbfounded as the hope of saving Jump City fell away in flames.
"On the contrary, Robin, this is only the beginning."
From there Slade revealed his horrific blackmailing scheme, and Robin had no choice but to comply. Of course, Robin had fought at first, even the destruction of his friends, all he had, did not stop him from trying to sneak a few enraged kicks while he still felt he had some will.
But, just like before, Slade had defeated him effortlessly, and when Robin lay moaning in pain upon the cold floor, on the verge of begging for death, did Slade remind him of his family's eminent destruction should he continue to rebel.
He snatched Robin by the hair and pulled his limp, beaten body across the churning room.
"Now that you are sworn to be my apprentice," Slade announced, yanking the boy's jet-black scalp up so he was forced to look him square in his soulless eye. "There can be no trace of your former life. I wouldn't want there to be any doubt of your allegiance to me."
He blessedly released his painful grip upon Robin, but his frigid pupil remained fixed upon what the teen would do next. The bleeding Titan took a few minutes, and it was clear he was at war with himself. Slade had half a mind to pound him into submission, but decided that a conscious choice would ultimately prove to be a more powerful message.
Shrugging off his communicator, the one hope of ever speaking to his friends again, had been almost impossible. He grudgingly removed it from his belt, his aching arms and pride screaming in protest as he did, and held it loosely in front of his face. He was tempted to cradle it back into his body, but luckily, Slade plucked it out of his fingers and crushed it before him.
He glared murderously right into the man's eye, unable to form words for his perpetual rage. Without warning, Slade vice gripped his thin neck and lifted him to his feet as his legs flailed weakly beneath him. This time there was no tirade or judgment, Slade simply gave him a long, unadulterated stare before dropping him back to his bloodied knees with a pile of clothing.
When he could breathe again, Robin surveyed the material, and realized that it was almost identical to Slade's outfit, save the mask.
"If you think I'm ever going to put this on, you've got another thing coming, Slade," he spat, croaking out the words as blood pooled in the crevice of his chin.
Crouching to the boy's level, the masked man simply waved the button clipped onto his palm, reminding of the massacre that was to take place should Robin continue refusing.
So he dawned the enemy's colors and burned his own, becoming everything he hated in one endless night.
He slept on a cot in a locked room with no windows, only a yard or so away from where Slade dozed calmly. In the morning, his new master dragged him to a variety of areas for eating, training, brainwashing, and finally, beating- because Robin always had something he had to be reprimanded for.
Bruises, cuts, broken bones, and mental anguish had been constant companions until he was finally set out to actually fight his real friends. And although Slade had been defeated in the end, Robin always remembered holding Starfire's convulsing, deteriorating body in his arms as he begged Slade to spare her life, only to turn around and burn her more.
"Please, stop!"
"Attack. It's the only way to save them."
"Robin!"
"I'm sorry."
His boot caught a sneaky edge, and he fell hard to the dusty, sharp ground. Cursing himself for not paying closer attention, he groaned quietly against the sting. His bones dug into the spiked earth, sending sharp pains everywhere, splitting his palms open. He began to spit a vulgarity when he noticed something.
The rocks were jagged, but the terrain cradling them underneath was uncharacteristically soft. Curious, he ignored the team's raised eyebrows and his own dripping blood, and pushed himself to his knees.
He felt his skin cut and scream against the shards, but he focused in on the touch of the dirt. It didn't feel right, it shouldn't be so refined.
"What're you...?" Cyborg began to ask, but stopped as he was waved off.
Throwing a pile of stones to the side, Robin cleared away a patch of plain ground. Pressing his gloved palm into the soft sand, he leaned his body weight into the earth, and it gave way. No sound reverberated as the dirt collapsed onto itself, seemingly dropping into nonexistence.
They all saw the hole, and Cyborg lowered his monitors toward it. When the beeping intensified to indicate a stronger signal, they all began to dig up the gap, widening it until it was large enough for one of them to stick a head in and take a look around.
"I got it," Beast Boy whispered, transforming into a rat.
As he crawled through, he expected there to be a slight drop into the next tier of ground. But, when he disappeared into the opening, he fell so far so fast that he almost didn't have time to shift into a bat and evade the marble floor one hundred feet below from where his team crouched.
They had stumbled upon Slade's lair.