Author's Note: So, one week since launching this story. I said I would update on Fridays, but apparently I'm updating a bit more often than that. Would you lookie there… XD

ROTFL, I love that moment with Robin! So much food! XD And for the record, I love birds, too! I have a little blue parretlet. Such a little cutie, he is. And no it isn't the reason why I love writing about Robin. Seriously. He's just too cool and a perfect writing guinea pig. LOL

Oh my gosh, I cracked up so bad at 'waffle shield'! "Evil beware. We have waffles!" But since it's the first day of Robin's capture, I don't think he can quite take so much more. XD

As for the serum, well… Who knows… *smiles sweetly*

Oh, and pretend that Red X happened after Cyborg built the T-Car. XD I was looking over the episode list and I was like, "Really? Really?" Anyways, in this story, they've been a team for a year so I expect the dude would've made it by now. Aheh…

On with the story!

Chapter Five

Helpless Before Omnipotence

September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:31 am.

"Eat, Robin," said Slade smoothly, but the tone of his voice was deadly straight on one thing: 'Do as I say or else.'

Robin held back a growl and grabbed his fork without a word, picking at his food resentfully. If this man thought he could just keep Robin here, then he had another thing coming. There was no way Robin was sticking around – he would escape. He had to no matter what. There had to be an exit somewhere. It was ridiculous for Slade to think he could trick Robin into thinking there wasn't a door out of here. Seriously, what residence didn't have a door?

Surely the man knew Robin was just a little more intelligent than that.

"Food is meant to be eaten, not played with," scolded Slade. Robin slammed his fork down onto the plate; the metal clattering against the china surface. He pitted a fierce glare at the man, who was calmly eating his breakfast.

"You know what: shut it, Slade," snapped Robin. "Quit telling me what to do. You're not in charge of me, you're not my teacher, you're not my mentor, and you're sure as heck not my father. So, just shut it."

The slap that cracked across his cheek wasn't as strong as the one earlier, but it still hurt terribly. Robin bit his bottom lip in pure hatred and aggravation, putting the back of his hand to the stinging cheek. Swiping his cheek once, he glared at Slade; wishing he had the energy and power to strangle Slade for just one minute.

One minute wouldn't kill the man, after all.

"Keep it up, Robin," said Slade in a terribly frightening tone. "There are still plenty of bones left to break in your body, and no one to hear your screams."

Chills went down Robin's spine.

This man was serious – deadly serious. He meant business; that much was apparent. Robin's heart began to thump rapidly against his chest. It was rare when Robin felt fear. There had been a few times when he had gone on patrol with Batman that he had felt that terrible oppressive feeling of pure terror in his heart from a criminal. Very few men managed that fear with Robin.

Slade was now one of those men.

Robin squirmed in his seat under the dark look that Slade was giving him. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing once. Slade set his fork down lightly onto the plate and devoted his entire attention to Robin; resting his elbows onto the table's surface as he gazed over his intertwined fingers. Robin felt another shiver go down his spine – like icy water sliding over his skin.

"You seem to still be under the impression that you're an adult and as such may act like one. Let me correct this assumption: you are not – you are a child," said Slade slowly, emphasizing his last sentence carefully.

"I'm not a child!" snapped Robin. "Stop talking down to me, Slade. Geez, I've fought crime for seven years now. I'm not just some little kid."

"If you're not an adult or a child, what are you, then? A duck, perhaps?" Slade tilted his head slightly and Robin got the distinct impression that the man was smirking beneath his mask. "No, a little birdie, hm?" suggested Slade slyly.

"I'm not a child," hissed Robin through gritted teeth.

"Oh, but you are; and as such, you don't have the wisdom your elders do."

"I don't want any of your wisdom," growled Robin, his temper flaring from within his chest. Words plunged from his mouth in his frustration and irritation. "I've told you that. Can't you get that through that head of yours or is that steel mask blocking the blood to your brain?"

Oh, he shouldn't have said that.

The instant the insult fell from his lips, he wished he could take it back. Fear took over his body as he cowered before the infuriated man next to him. Robin thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest. Slade stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the tile flooring.

Holy Eiffel Tower, the man was tall.

Robin fell backwards off the side of the chair, his legs on the seat. He scuttled away; the chair toppling over onto its back. Slade's presence was terrifying. In that moment, Robin thought the man was going to kill him. He could just feel the fury emanating from the man's core.

Slade harshly kicked the chair aside. It smashed into the wall; the top of the chair splintering slightly. Robin's thumping heart was pounding so furiously against his chest, he thought it would collapse from its intensity. He had to get away. Slade was going to kill him – he was sure of it. Robin pushed his feet against the tile floor, trying to back away from him. His sock covered feet slipped beneath his urgency and he didn't put much distance between him and his horrifying enemy.

Slade took one stride towards Robin.

"Wait—Slade—I'm—I didn't—" stammered Robin, nearly petrified before the man. Slade bent down and backhanded Robin across the face; the pain almost blinding him for a moment. Then, with a terrible vice grip, Slade clamped his hand around his neck, dragging him to his feet. For the second time that morning, Robin gasped for breath as his wind pipe was obstructed. He could feel himself being lifted slightly into the air, the balls of his feet barely touching the floor.

"Now, I understand this new situation is… difficult… to say the least," started Slade in a low, sinister tone. Robin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as another shiver went down his back. "But you're an intelligent kid – you learn pretty fast. I'll be lenient with you if you merely apologize for your atrocious behavior."

Robin gasped, struggling to breathe in spite of the chocker hold on his throat. His brain wasn't working correctly. He was going to die – he was sure of it. Chocked to death by a masked psychopath. Apologizing seemed impossible.

"What is going on here?" questioned Wintergreen in an even, yet slightly annoyed tone. Robin managed to turn his gaze to the older man, who was standing at the entrance of the hallway. He had a syringe in his hand.

"Just waiting for a little apology from my dear apprentice," said Slade, his grey blue eye sending a hard glare at Robin. Wintergreen appeared content with this answer; even seeming to agree with it and he looked expectantly at Robin.

Robin closed his eyes, still gasping and struggling in Slade's unmoving hold. He had never felt this helpless in his entire life – struggling before his enemy; completely in his power. That was something new to Robin. He had always been the one in control – the one with power despite the fact that he was just a normal human without any superpowers to speak of.

Just apologize. Say you're sorry. You can do this. It's not that hard. Won't kill you. Just words – just two words. Then he'll let you breathe again; he won't kill you.

"…sorry…" rasped Robin as loud as he could, which was only a soft, tiny whisper. "…I'm… sorry…"

Slade dropped him. Robin collapsed to the floor, taking gulping gasps as he struggled to send air to his brain. His head began to pound viciously in protest from his lack of oxygen. Robin curled up onto his side, coughing harshly. Bright stars blinked in his closed eyes. Slade left him there, walking to the chair he had kicked away and setting it back near the table. He sat down in his seat without another word. Wintergreen sighed, shaking his head lightly as he walked over to Robin.

"Stand please; when you can," said Wintergreen gently, holding the syringe in his hand. Robin struggled to get to his feet. His pounding head was making everything far more difficult. It felt as if someone was constantly rocking him and dully hitting his forehead. Robin's balance was off as he rose and Wintergreen offered him some support when he swayed. The old man slowly helped him to his chair. Robin's eyes focused on the syringe and he suddenly grew extremely wary.

"Wha—what is that?" asked Robin; his voice raspy and hoarse.

"Pain killer," said Wintergreen. Robin narrowed his eyes. He could see the liquid inside – clear, with a few round crimson particles and numerous air bubbles. It seemed thick to Robin.

"Doesn't look like a pain killer to me," said Robin suspiciously, his voice still cracking. Wintergreen seemed to hesitate at this.

"It's my own formula," said Slade, before Wintergreen could reply. "I created it."

Robin raised an eyebrow and said incredulously, "And you expect me to allow you to stick me with a needle that has something you created? Are you crazy?"

"Yes, I do and might I remind you that you're skating on thin ice here, boy," said Slade, his visible eye glinting dangerously. "Don't push me."

"Truly, it is what he says it is," said Wintergreen, trying to sound reassuringly. "It's quite safe…" Wintergreen trailed off for a moment, before looking at Slade. "Are you sure it'll work with the child?"

"Positive."

Robin grew alarmed. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded promptly, glancing nervously between the two men. Wintergreen gently grabbed his bare arm, readying the syringe.

"Ho—hold up!" cried Robin, pulling away from the old man.

"Child, please—"

"Robin," snapped Slade, interrupting Wintergreen. "You're to take that pain killer or so help me, I'll give you more than enough reasons to wish you had listened."

Robin swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of his increasingly dry throat. He knew full well what Slade's reasons would be. His stubbornness and rebellious side screamed at him to not listen to Slade – to just bolt out of there faster than the T-Car at top speed. But his logical side was telling him that, for his self preservation, he better not. His options were quite simple, it seemed. Either get stuck with an unknown substance or get the crap beaten out of him.

Such lovely options.

"Al—all right…" murmured Robin, turning his head away and relaxing his arm. He felt the sharp pinch of the needle a moment later. Then, he felt a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

"All finished. You should begin to feel its effect soon," said Wintergreen. "Now, please eat something. You're much too thin."

"I'm not thin," huffed Robin, feeling emotionally exhausted from the events. The pounding in his head hadn't let up yet.

"Oh, please," started Wintergreen sardonically, folding his arms and looking down at Robin with an amused expression. "If I look at you from the side and squint, you disappear." He pointed to the food in front of Robin.

"Eat."

Robin let out a sigh before obeying. He gathered some eggs onto his fork and took a bite. It was cold. Well, he wasn't surprised by that. There had been quite a bit of activity and none of it good. He wordlessly shoveled the eggs into his mouth slowly, uncaring about the temperature. His mind raced with his thoughts.

How the heck was he supposed to escape?

Slade seemed completely omniscient and all powerful. He had never realized before just how powerless he was against the man – by himself, that is. Perhaps if he had been with the Titans, they might've had a chance in taking him down.

But he was alone – completely and utterly alone.

And Robin knew it.

Being a loner wasn't something too new to Robin. It was in his nature to do things on his own, just like he had when he tried to sneak his way into Slade's plan as Red X. Bruce was always a loner as well and Robin found himself adopting such ways. It obviously wasn't a good policy, since it had blown up in his face. Even after a full year as the leader of the Teen Titans, he was still failing miserably at the job.

He had just been so used to being alone.

Although, it didn't make him enjoy it.

Secrets, reclusiveness, work driven – things Robin had developed under the tutelage of Bruce. But those skills were useless here. There was seriously no way to overpower Slade by himself – he was totally helpless before the man.

Robin was overwhelmed with thankfulness that he was wearing a mask. His eyes were burning with the desire to cry. He had never hated being alone this much before – not even after his parents died. The despair was threatening to suffocate him in a far stronger grip than Slade's iron chocker. He squeezed his eyes shut without any other movement on his face, not wanting to show his feelings to the other men in the room. He just couldn't let himself cry. Not now, not here, not Robin.

No.

No, he couldn't give up. He'd find a way – he had to find a way. He'd escape and when he did, Robin would slap the man with kidnapping charges so fast, it'd make his head spin. He'd find a way out of this mess one way or another. He'd bide his time carefully – outwit the master tactician and strategist at his own manipulative game.

He was Robin, after all – the Boy Wonder. The leader of the Teen Titans.

He just had to escape.

Next Time: Chapter Six: Prepared Efforts – Robin gets a glimpse of just how much his arrival had been anticipated.

Author's Notes: My favorite Wintergreen line is in this chapter. XD It's something I'd totally say, too. Robin's such a scrawny little runt. A scrawny runt that can kick my butt… But he really should avoid that since his fate is in my fingers. :P

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^