Author's Note: Wow, all your reviews are so lovely and so helpful! I really appreciate all the impute and encouragement you've given me. ^^ Those of you who've expressed your thoughts: I really consider them and have even added things because of it. Thanks a ton!
Haha… a little side note. I have not read a single DC comic in my entire life. I have watched – and own, I might add – all five seasons of Teen Titans. But when I was doing a little background research on Slade and Wintergreen I was like "Whoa! There's more drama here than my grandmother's soap operas! I thought these comics were for kids. o.O"
So, the only real information I have on Wintergreen is from what I've read in fanfiction. So, hopefully he'll work out. XD If not, then he'll just be a bit different.
Oh, well.
LOOOOL.
On with the story!
Chapter Three
Into the Haunt
September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:00 am.
Robin groaned as wakefulness began to flow through his consciousness. His head throbbed with a dull pain, along with his stomach. Another groan emitted from his throat as he struggled to move.
"Awake yet, Robin?"
Robin stiffened, his mind snapping fully awake; sharp and clear. That was Slade's voice. Somehow, Robin was with Slade – hadn't the man showed up suddenly in his room? What about the other Titans? Had they been captured, too? Or worse?
Then, a terrible panic filled Robin's chest.
What if Slade had taken his mask off? He had been unconscious around a nut case – there was nothing stopping the man from ripping of his mask and seeing his identity. With a nervous swallow, Robin brought a hand slowly to his face.
His mask was still there.
Relief sagged throughout his body; strengthening him. He was still Robin. Dick was protected behind the safety of his mask. Slade didn't know who he was and Bruce's identity wasn't endangered. He was still safe.
Still safe.
Robin's eyes slipped open. The lighting was dim; too dark for his groggy eyes to see through. He tried to push himself up and found that he was lying on the floor. Robin also noticed that he was still in his pajamas. He sat up with his legs curled beneath him as he took in his surroundings; his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He supported his weight with one arm.
The sound of clinking gears constantly rang above Robin's head. He looked up to see endless amounts of the sound's source. They were bigger and more elaborate than anything he had ever seen before. The room itself was wide and expansive; the lighting darkened in an aura of deep brown. Along the far wall was a simple door. Other than that, Robin could see no other possible exits.
He wasn't in Titans Tower any more.
"What do you think?" asked Slade. Robin turned his head towards the direction of his voice. Slade's legs were crossed as he sat on a high seat, which gave Robin a strong impression of a king on his throne. Robin scowled at the sight. Surrounding the man was a large number of controls; a blank computer screen stretched the width of the room behind him. Slade opened his arms wide, as if in display.
"Welcome to my humble abode, Robin. I hope you'll make yourself at home – since this will be your home as well for quite a long while."
"This isn't my home," growled Robin, getting to his feet and preparing himself for a fight. "My home is Titans Tower."
"Was your home, Robin," said Slade, his voice silky smooth. "This is your new home."
"As if I'll ever—"
"You know, Robin; I've been watching you for quite some time," said Slade, ignoring Robin's protests. Slade leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee and supporting his head in his hand. His other arm lay easily over his lap. "You are an interesting child, indeed."
Huh?
Robin's stance relaxed slightly. The man wasn't moving from his seat. He looked so relaxed; almost tranquil. Wasn't the man going to attack? Why was he just sitting there like they were discussing the weather? Slade had to be totally insane – completely lost it. Wasn't he the enemy?
"What are you talking about? Are you some kind of stalker or something?" demanded Robin.
Slade chuckled, shaking his head once in his amusement.
"In a way, I suppose," said Slade with a light shrug, his tone casual. "It's the only way I know everything. Knowledge is power, after all. When I know more than you, Robin, I have more power than you – perhaps even over you, at times. Such as now; you are confused with my intentions and will continue to be so until I reveal them to you. Thus, you are in my control."
"Enough games, Slade," hissed Robin, hardening his stance once again. "What do you want? Why have you brought me here? Where are the other Titans?"
Slade sighed and shook his head, leaning to rest against the back of his chair. He rested his elbows on the arms, lifting his hands in front of his chest; fingertips touching fingertips.
"So impatient, aren't you, Robin? I keep telling you: you need to learn patience."
"Shut up! Quick lecturing me!" shouted Robin, angrily slicing a hand through the air. "Don't you ever lecture me. You're a criminal. You have no right."
"Oh, I have every right, Robin," said Slade, his eye narrowing through the slit of his mask. "As of right now, I am in charge over you. Your wellbeing depends on me. You belong to me, now."
"…What?" Robin's voice caught in his throat as the shock washed over him. What was Slade playing at? It almost sounded as if… the man wanted to take him in. Was this suppose to be a joke?
No. There was no way. Slade just wanted to control Robin. He just wanted to control his enemy. There was no way Slade actually had any purpose other than shutting Robin and the Teen Titans down so he could have his way with the city.
"Are you confused, Robin?" asked Slade, his tone dropping to become soft. There was another low chuckle. "You probably think I'm just like all the other villains you've met before. What, were you thinking I wanted to control or destroy the city? The world, perhaps?"
Robin didn't answer. He shifted his weight uneasily. There was something in the man's tone that unsettled Robin. Slade sounded so calm as he spoke. He didn't sound like the usual criminals that the Teen Titans faced every day; those ones who loved to monologue over their great evil plans like a broken antique record.
Slade sounded almost… normal.
Sane, even.
"Why would I want to control the world, hm? Or destroy it? What a waste. I have no desire for that. No, my desires are a little simpler. A little more… personal." Slade leaned forward, his elbows shifting to his legs; his fingers lacing together. He rested his chin on his intertwined fingers, his grey blue eye piercing deeply into Robin's eyes. His voice went stiller and softer.
"I want an apprentice. An heir, so to speak. A moldable child to follow after my footsteps. I have much to teach, much to offer – but, I am only willing to pass such valuable information onto the perfect child."
Robin held his breath, unable to breathe for fear of making a single sound that would shatter the softness he felt within Slade's tone. He was frozen in his smooth and quiet speaking; the man's voice dangerously captivating and enticing.
"And Robin, I've chosen you," said Slade in a deep whisper, his voice filled with the sound of a smirk. He leaned back slowly, folding his arms and lifting his chin slightly as if giving Robin a moment to register his words.
Robin let out a low sigh, breathing deeply; releasing the stillness that he had felt during Slade's words. Silence stood between them. The only sounds that filled the air were the clinking of the gears so high above.
It was… flattering, Robin supposed, that this man wanted him as an apprentice. It seemed that Robin had caught his eye, even though he hadn't been trying to. And now the man wanted him to be – what had he said? – an heir to follow in his footsteps. Did this man really want to give Robin everything he had? That's what being an heir meant, after all.
But why? Why Robin?
"Why… me?" asked Robin; his voice soft. Slade tilted his head to the side, as if considering the question.
"Oh, Robin," started Slade, sounding deeply regretful, yet managing to sound condescending as well. "Do you not know your own worth? You're like a raw gemstone. So much potential, so much ability, so much to offer. But without the proper master to polish the gem, such beauty is just wasted – if not destroyed in the hands of an amateur."
Robin's mouth opened slightly; taken aback by the man's description. Did he really think Robin had that much potential? His heart quickened at the compliment. He closed his eyes behind his mask, trying to calm down his racing heart.
It had been a long time since anyone had said something like that to him. Sure, his friends said things to build each other up all the time, but nothing like this. Definitely nothing like this. Not since his parents' deaths had he ever heard something so complimentary.
It was almost something a parent would say to their child.
Robin opened his eyes, taking a deep calming breath. It was really too bad Slade was a psychopath. Really too bad and such a waste as well. Robin just might've taken the man up on his offer if he'd been a normal person.
But, of course the man wasn't – a normal person, that is.
"Slade…" started Robin. "I'm… flattered by your offer. But I'm sorry. I'll have to decline. I can't be your heir. I'm Robin, leader of the Teen Titans. There's no room in there to be Slade's heir."
Robin took a deep breath and looked straight into Slade's visible eye.
"Thanks, but no thanks, Slade."
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Only the sound of the gears filled the air as they stared at each other.
Then, Slade chuckled darkly. "Really, Robin; you truly are quite adorable." Robin stiffened at the man's silky tone. "What makes you think I'm giving you a choice in this matter?"
Unbidden panic rose in Robin's chest, his heart rate climbing once again. What more did the man want? It wasn't like he could keep Robin here. He gritted his teeth and glared at the masked man.
"What about the other Titans? You can't just keep me here. I refuse to be your apprentice!"
"Rest assured, your little friends are safely tucked away in their little tower. I did nothing to harm them," said Slade with a light shrug. Then, the air grew heavy around him in deadly seriousness. "But you will be my apprentice, Robin. Like I've said: you don't have a choice in this matter. You are too young to make such an important choice on your own. You will be my apprentice – whether you like it or not. You'll get used to it, sooner or later. Sooner is preferable, but—" There was a light chuckle. "—not necessary."
"I won't ever like it," snapped Robin hotly. "You can't keep me here!"
"Oh, please; try and escape, Robin," said Slade with a wave of his hand. "I can assure you – you won't find the exit. But I promise you, I don't look lightly on such willfulness. You will be punished if you try to escape."
Robin glared at Slade in silence, his eyes darting to the door. Then, suddenly, he bolted to it. Slade didn't stop him, only chuckling lightly. Robin gritted his teeth at the man's smugness. He burst through the door, suddenly slipping to a stop in surprise at the drastic change in décor.
He was inside a brightly lit kitchen. The room was decently sized with clean white walls; elegant wooden cabinets sat above a rich marble countertop across the room. Robin could see a number of appliances like a stove, a dishwasher, a fridge, and a freezer. There was a round table with three chairs; the table set with silverware as if waiting for a meal.
In the back of the kitchen, directly ahead of Robin, was a dark, open hallway that led towards the back; the darkness hiding any possibility of knowing what lay beyond. There was a closed door on the left of it. Next to the door, and close to Robin, was a large beautiful dish cabinet; glass doors revealing many pieces of delicate china.
It looked so normal – like a real kitchen in a real house, complete with the homey feeling.
Such a contrast to the room Robin had just left.
An older man with pepper grey hair was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, a newspaper in his hands. He looked to be well in his sixties, yet his face hadn't quite fallen with too many wrinkles. He looked up at Robin; setting the newspaper down when he saw him.
"Ah, there you are," said the old man in a warm tone, as if he had been waiting for Robin. He stood up and motioned to one of the places at the table. "Come, sit down. Your breakfast is getting cold."
"Who are you?" demanded Robin, unmoving, as the old man walked to the stove. The old man grabbed a frying pan from off the stovetop and turned slightly to look at Robin, an eyebrow raised.
"Right to the point, aren't you? Ah, well. I'm William Wintergreen; Slade's butler and a very old friend."
Before Robin could say anything in return, the old man continued with a stern look on his aged face.
"Let's set some ground rules, shall we? I may be the butler around here, but I'm not the maid. You will clean up after yourself. Put dirty dishes into the dishwasher when you're through with them. Since I do the cooking, I expect you to be present – on time, I might add – at every meal when served. If you are in need of a snack, you need only to ask and I shall prepare you one."
"I'm not staying here," said Robin swiftly. Wintergreen raised his eyebrow again, a light wry smile tugging at the side of his mouth. He walked to the table and began to scoop some eggs from the pan onto each plate.
"Well, that's debatable, now isn't it?"
"Why do you work for Slade, Wintergreen? Don't you know he's a—"
Robin's tirade was stopped suddenly when a sharp cuff came at the back of his head. Robin hissed and placed a hand over the spot, turning his head to see Slade standing behind him. The man's narrowed eye looked greatly displeased.
"That's Mr. Wintergreen to you, boy. You need to show some respect."
"I don't need to do anything here!" cried Robin. "I need to go home."
"You are home," said Slade, his tone dripping with silk. Robin could've sworn the man had a smirk lifting his visible eye.
"This isn't my home and you know it," snapped Robin, glaring irritably at him.
"Would the two of you stop already?" said Wintergreen, sounding exasperated and annoyed. "Argue after breakfast, why don't you? It's getting cold."
Slade sighed softly and nodded, taking a seat without another word or glance towards Robin.
Robin didn't move.
"There's no way I'm eating anything that you people serve. You'll probably drug me."
"How dare you, young man!" cried Wintergreen, sounding appalled; a frown darkening his face. "I would never drug a child. The nerve of you! Sit down and eat already, you impertinent boy. You're much too thin as it is."
"Sit down, Robin. Do as Will says," said Slade, his tone turning dangerous.
"Quit acting like this is permanent!" shouted Robin. "I'm not staying here. Get that through your thick heads!"
Slade stood swiftly. Before Robin could react, a hard slap cracked across his cheek with such force that he crashed to the floor. The pain stung viciously and throbbed through his entire face. The blow made him feel lightheaded as he tried to look back up at the man that towered over him.
"You will learn some respect, boy," said Slade coldly. "I won't tolerate such insolent behavior."
Robin growled, the sound vibrating his throat. With a cry of anger, Robin rushed upwards to punch Slade. The man easily grabbed Robin's fist in his hand, stopping the attack.
"Pitiful, Robin," chided Slade. He threw Robin to the side, making him fly backwards to smash into the countertop. The cabinets rattled from the force as Robin's back cracked along the edge. He gasped from the terrible sharp pain that shot up his spine. He had to support his weight with a hand on the countertop, his vision filled with blinding stars from the pain.
"Ah—! Slade, not in the kitchen," scolded Wintergreen, putting his hands on his hips. "The food—the china! That stuff is rare and you know I hate wasting food. You're too rough with the boy. Just sit down and eat already, will you?"
Slade chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry, Will."
Robin couldn't defend himself from the iron grip that clamped around his neck. The wind suddenly stopped flowing and he gasped for breath as he was lifted into the air. His hands automatically clutched uselessly against the terrible hold; twisting his hands over Slade's wrist.
"But we'll be taking this into the other room, won't we, Robin?"
Next Time: Chapter Four: Outmatched – Robin discovers just how helpless he is before Slade.
Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^