Author's Note: Oh my gosh, maranda111, I laughed so hard when I read your review it made my tummy hurt! "Can we please torture Robin?" *puppy eyes* LOLOOLOL. I'm sure Robin appreciates all looove. *dies laughing*

Hm, no worries…? The, uh… torture will be gradual and increasing with Robin's stubbornness. I'll be trying to have a good balance between the emotional torture and the beatings – at least in the beginning. We'll slow torture the poor boy. XD Heh… As with most of my stories with decent plots, the heroes always reach a bottom low before rising up!

I must warn you though, this story as a whole is a bit different than your average Apprentice fic. (At least the ones I've read) This will have an unconventional but happy ending. :) Hopefully, you'll be able to look forward to it. ^^

And despite what my last name might lead you to believe, I don't know a lick of Spanish. Heh… But Google translate is great for times like these. ^^ So, con mucho gusto!

It was funny, I was chatting with my Dad one morning and I was like, "You know, I write villains really well."

*pause*

"Should I be worried?"

ROOOTFL!

Wintergreen is extremely concerned for Robin but doesn't/can't always show it. He does have some of my favorite lines. ^-^ He says the funniest things. XD

Anyways… rambling here…

On with the story!

Chapter Four

Outmatched

September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:10 am.

A terrible chill slid down Robin's spine, like an arctic shard of ice; shivering him to his very soul.

"Oh, very well," sighed Wintergreen in exasperation. "Do hurry, would you?"

"Of course," said Slade. He walked towards the door with Robin dangling for breath in his iron grip. He snapped his fingers and, once the door swung open automatically, he harshly tossed Robin through the doorway. The force of the throw sent Robin flying; skidding along the floor onto his back a few feet away.

The clinking gears joined in the sound of Robin's gasps as he heaved a breath of air through his mouth. He coughed a few times and rubbed his throat with a hand, trying to rub away the feeling of the man's powerful hand from his skin. Slade calmly walked through the door after him.

"Slade, do us both a favor and don't kill the boy," said Wintergreen dryly. "I only cook breakfast once a day so please hurry up." With that, the door closed behind Slade.

"Ha… ha… your butler…" gasped Robin, struggling for air, yet still feeling the need to throw a sarcastic bite at Slade. "He's a nagging one, isn't he?"

He paid for it.

A metal tipped boot swiftly connected with Robin's side. He couldn't hold back the cry of pain that burst from his mouth. He rolled onto his side; his arms clutching his stomach and his legs curling close to his chest.

"Lesson number one: disrespect is not tolerated. You will be respectful to me and to Mr. Wintergreen at all times," said Slade. "Now, get up on your feet."

Robin attempted to do so – not in any effort to obey the man, but in an act of self preservation. Groveling on the floor at the feet of one's enemy was not a smart position to be in.

Not a smart position at all.

Using his anger and hatred towards his enemy as a burst of energy, Robin forced himself up onto his hands and knees. His stomach still raged in pain and his breathing still hadn't normalized, but he managed to stand up; wavering unsteadily somewhat in his stance. He faced Slade, readying himself for any attack from the man.

Slade clasped his hands behind his back as he tilted his head to the side slightly, considering Robin for a long quiet moment.

"Are you out of shape?" asked Slade finally, a slight incredulous tone littering his voice. Robin growled and darted forward, his entire body pumping with the desire of punching this hated masked man into the floor.

Robin's fist was caught in Slade's hand; Robin spun his leg into the air, aiming for the man's head. It was blocked; Slade grabbed Robin's ankle before it connected to his head. Robin growled and tried to jerk out of his grasp; his fist and leg strongly captured within the iron grip of Slade. The man let go of his ankle and pulled Robin's fist forward; sending him flying over the man's shoulder to tumble to the floor. Robin rolled through the toss and jumped to his feet, whirling around to face Slade.

The man had disappeared.

Robin's head darted around nervously, trying to catch a glimpse of Slade before he attacked. Suddenly, a blow smashed into the left side of Robin's head and stars erupted in his sight. A growl ripped from Robin's throat as he punched wildly towards the direction of the previous blow.

Once again his fist was caught in Slade's hand.

"Stop fighting with your anger. Control your emotions," instructed Slade. "Let your fists do the job for you. If you fight with your anger, then your enemy can easily use it against you."

"Shut up!" shouted Robin. He sent his other fist towards Slade's face, but was caught in the man's other hand.

"You're not listening to me, Robin," chided Slade, sounding amused and somewhat exasperated. "If you don't listen, you're never going to have a chance against me; let alone win."

"Just—shut—up!" hissed Robin, kicking Slade in the stomach with the flat of his foot. Slade's grip weakened and Robin wrenched his fists away, twisting around to land another kick against the man. It was easily evaded. A blow came from below, punching Robin directly in the pit of his stomach.

Robin felt all the wind leave him.

He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath; wheezing heavily. Robin's fists clenched as the anger began to pour through his veins.

He was totally out of his league. He could feel it – he was seriously outmatched by Slade. The man hadn't shown this much skill before. Robin gritted his teeth furiously. Slade had been holding back all this time with him – he must've been. That psycho-jerk had been holding back in every battle with him!

Well, now that just pissed Robin off.

With an infuriated growl of rage, Robin leapt off the ground and darted towards Slade. He was so angry that the man was messing with him. Slade wasn't taking him seriously. Well, Robin was just going to give the psychopath something to be serious about.

Robin fought like a ferocious animal, sending endless attacks toward any part of Slade he could throw his fist or foot at. Slade calmly blocked each attack with ease. This only sent Robin into a deeper fury. Robin leapt into the air, twisting his body into a leaping kick towards the man's face.

Robin's leg was caught midair and he was left dangling upside down in Slade's grip. Robin swayed in the air for a moment as the blood began to rush to his head.

"I thought I told you to stop attacking with your anger," said Slade, irritation filling his tone.

"Quit lecturing me!" cried Robin, flailing slightly in his precarious position. "Just—stop already!"

"Robin, it's my job to lecture and teach you."

"You are not my teacher!" shouted Robin, sending his free leg into Slade's side. He heard a light grunt from Slade and he couldn't hold back the smirk of satisfaction of landing a hit on this irritating man. But it didn't last as he felt Slade's knee connect with his stomach. Robin cried out before he was thrown to the side onto the ground. Robin groaned as he struggled against the floor to move.

"I am your teacher now. And you will learn from me," snapped Slade. Then, there was a soft sigh and the shake of a head. "I'm surprised at you, Robin. I don't know how you've been winning all your battles. You must have a lot of luck. I admit, your technique is decent, but easily overcome by any halfwit who knows a sliver of what he's doing."

Robin clenched his fist and pounded the ground with it, absolutely frustrated by Slade's demeaning words. He heard a sigh from Slade as the man came to stand over him.

"Really, Robin," said Slade, another sigh escaping as he spoke. "I have much to offer you; if you only swallow back that annoying pride of yours and think for one second, you'd realize my words make sense."

"Stop. Lecturing. Me," snarled Robin slowly in a soft, deadly whisper.

"What was that, boy?" returned Slade, his tone going dangerously dark.

"I said: stop lecturing me!" shouted Robin, leaping upward after he spoke. He flipped backwards, supporting his weight with his hands as he kicked upward. He felt his shoeless foot connect with his target. Still on his hands, Robin twisted his body to swing another kick – which connected with a light twang of sound. Robin pushed off his hands and leapt to his feet, crouching on the ground, before he jumped upward with a clenched fist.

A leg smashed into the side of Robin's stomach; the force of the blow sent him flying aside with a cry. He landed on the ground once before bouncing in the air; skidding along the floor a few feet before he landed again. There was a moment before his body settled. Robin groaned in pain, rolling onto his side as he pushed himself up. Another kick to his stomach sent Robin flying to the side. He smashed into the wall with his back, before collapsing face down onto the floor. He groaned against its cold surface; pain ravaging his side.

"I wonder," murmured Slade from right above Robin. "How long it will take for the lesson to settle into that thick head of yours!"

"Enough already!" came the angry sound of Wintergreen's voice. Robin struggled to look up. When he managed it, he saw the older man with his arms folded; leaning against the doorframe and looking extremely cross.

"Slade, do you know how eggs taste after being reheated too many times? Like cardboard. I, for one, dislike that taste and I'm positive you will as well. Do your training after you eat. That's all I ask. You can't think clearly with an empty stomach – either of you. Besides, the boy's much too thin to miss meals and I won't have a starved child in this house."

Robin felt his face flush, the heat flooding to his ears. That was the second time the older man mentioned his size. It wasn't his fault he was naturally slender. He was an acrobat – the size came with the profession.

Slade didn't move for a long moment. Robin could feel the anger emanating from the man – all directed towards him; he was sure of it. Robin struggled to sit up, sharp pain flaring throughout his stomach. In the heat of the fight, he hadn't noticed the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his skin. His breathing was heavy and it hurt to expand his lungs all the way.

Then, Slade turned away from Robin, motioning with a hand to follow him, before walking past Wintergreen through the door into the kitchen. Robin knew there was no fighting it right now, seeing as he was injured at the moment. He felt a trickle of sweat slide down his left temple and he took a hand to wipe it away. When he was done, he saw a smear of blood on the back of his hand.

Wonderful.

Robin groaned as he struggled to stand up. Slade really did a number on him. The man hadn't held back – or at least, that's what Robin thought. At that moment, Robin was no longer sure what to make of the man. He could be far stronger than what he had exhibited in their fight. If he was stronger…

Robin didn't even want to think about that possibility.

He placed a hand on the wall for support and slipped upwards to stand on his feet. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as a wave of sharp, throbbing pain rippled through his body.

Oh, this couldn't be good.

Gritting his teeth, Robin walked slowly towards the open door, trying hard to ignore the sharp pain that kept biting into his side as he breathed. Wintergreen stood in the doorway, waiting for Robin. When he reached him, the older man looked him over with a critical eye.

"Dear me, you look like road kill," commented Wintergreen dryly. Robin grumbled incoherencies in reply. Wintergreen held up a damp cloth in his hand before placing it lightly on Robin's bleeding temple. Robin hissed as the cold cloth stung his wound.

"Keep it there," instructed Wintergreen. Robin took the cloth and wordlessly obeyed. He figured staying silent and listening would be better than griping at him. The old man was obviously trying to help and Robin could see concern within those aged hazel green eyes.

However, Robin couldn't hold back the gasp of surprise and embarrassment when the old man lifted his pajama shirt.

"H—hey!" protested Robin, wincing in pain as he tried to push his shirt back down. "Wha—what are you doing?"

"Stop struggling, child, and let me see the damage," said Wintergreen, sounding exasperated as he pushed Robin's hands away. "Lift your shirt up, would you?"

Tentatively, Robin raised his shirt above his chest level. Robin's eyes widened as he saw fresh bruises beginning to form in numerous patches. There were also some older looking bruises, no doubt from his encounter with Slade in the Tower.

Wintergreen pressed lightly with his fingers near Robin's ribcage. Robin was surprised by the cry of pain that escaped his mouth and he bit his lip, hard, in the attempt to hold back any more outbursts. The pain was terribly sharp and the throbbing intensified after Wintergreen touched the spot. It had been quite a long while since Robin had an injury like this. He rarely ever got hurt since moving to Jump City.

After all, villains just couldn't hold their own against the Teen Titans – not to mention Jump City villains were so pathetic it wasn't even funny.

Besides Slade, of course.

"It's all right, child," said Wintergreen, his voice filled with kindness. "Don't hold back. You'll split your lip like that." He turned to glare at Slade, who was calmly sipping from his mug at the table through an opening in his mask. "Did you break this child's ribs?"

Robin tried to ignore the blow to his ego at the word 'child'.

"I might've," said Slade.

"Might've?" started Wintergreen incredulously. "I dare say you have and more than one, I think. This isn't good. He'll take weeks to heal these."

Robin got the distinct impression of a doting grandfather as he watched the way Wintergreen talked and moved. The old man seemed genuinely concerned for Robin's wellbeing, which was more than he could say for Slade – obviously. But Robin was surprised by the familiarity that Wintergreen had with Slade. It reminded Robin of Alfred and Bruce at times; although, Alfred was a bit warmer than Wintergreen. There was a certain feeling of 'no nonsense' coming from the older man that made Robin feel a bit wary of Wintergreen.

Still, Robin preferred Alfred for the obvious reason that he wouldn't be in this position then. He'd be back in Gotham City; safe from the hands of a psychopath. But Robin was here in Jump City and in Slade's kitchen; within the hands of a man who could do whatever he wanted to him.

A certain level of helplessness began to fill Robin's chest.

Slade gave Wintergreen a light shrug as he brought his mug to his mouth again. Robin caught a glimpse of a white goatee around the edges of his lips.

"You know what to give him," said Slade.

"That doesn't mean—" Wintergreen stopped midsentence, before letting out a long sigh. He clicked his tongue irritably and said grudgingly, "All right."

He patted Robin lightly on the arm. "Wait at the table and I'll bring you a… pain killer."

Wintergreen walked out of the kitchen and down the darkened hallway. Robin slowly made his way to a chair – unfortunately one next to Slade – and settled into it; huffing slightly in frustration. On the table in front of him was a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Slade's plate had the same thing, while the other plate had the appearance of being recently finished. Robin noticed that his plate was slightly overflowing in comparison to Slade's plate. Robin couldn't stop lifting his eyebrow dubiously.

Did the man really think he – Robin, Richard Grayson; ward of the billionaire Bruce Wayne – was starving to death?

Next Time: Chapter Five: Helpless Before Omnipotence – Robin gets a dangerous lesson in true fear.

Author's Notes: Yes, because even with billions of dollars, there's never anything to eat. XD

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^