I4.6

Chapter 7: Inhibitor 4, Batch 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Adult themes. DO NOT read if you are underage or dislike controversial things.

Author's Note: I hope you like reading this as much as I like writing this. Enjoy!

The scent of calming lavender fills the private room as Richard reclines in his spa chair. Left foot soaking in a bath of sweetly scented salts as a very skillful woman scrubs the callouses off of his right foot. Her thumb is kneading into the sore arches of his foot and his eyes flutter shut in pleasure. Another woman is gently holding his left hand in her own as she cleans, files and buffs his finger nails. Self care never felt so good and Alfred never looked so scary when he demanded that Richard use the rest of the day to prepare himself for tonight's charity gala. We can't have the eldest of Bruce Wayne's adopted sons looking crusty and dusty on tonight's red carpet. There is an image of power and prestige that needs to be upheld at all costs. Every major brand knows that there is power in perception and that illusion of reality must be maintained without fail. Thus, he is trapped in this chair, a semi-unwilling participant of this grooming ritual.

This does not mean that Richard has been idle. He firmly grasps a cellphone in his well manicured right hand as he scrolls through the content with a slight frown on his face. Yesterday's earlier conversation with Rachel and Melvin has brought to his attention the existence of a rather...avid online community of fans who are "content creators." More like rabid, Richard thinks to himself. The psychology of fans and followers will always be morbidly fascinating to him. Wayne Enterprise has a department of about 30 leaders in the field of marketing psychology that dedicate their whole careers in understanding the subtle ways to manipulate a large population into doing, thinking or purchasing what they want. Most people do not realize the millions of dollars and time that is invested in obtaining their consumership. The Wayne family did not grow their small business into the conglomerate that it is today without understanding their consumer base and making appropriate investments where necessary to thrive. The world around them is ever evolving and Wayne Enterprise has had to evolve with it or perish.

The advent of technology, specifically the internet and cellphones, have changed the way that people do business. It has also changed the way that advertisements work. Long gone are the days of good old fashion fliers and business cards. Everything is digital. Even tabloids. The pictures from tonight's event will be posted all over the internet and sold by the cash registers at local grocery stores. There will be various narratives attached to who wore this and who said that. The masses will absorb all this information and speculate about the latest gossip. Latch on to the juiciest details to create their own understanding of events and relationships. Fanfiction, Richard realizes, is just another outlet for those wonderings. Interestingly enough, it is not powered by a major company looking for revenue or businesses that are trying to sway the multitude in one direction or another. It's powered by the people and what they want to see or would like to see happen. The fanfiction community for the Titians is simultaneously disturbing, entertaining and downright weird in some cases. Some of the smallest, most innocent gestures between teammates have been isolated and amplified into whole stories based on some anonymous author's imagination.

Richard has not taken the time to read through very many of these stories, but from what he can gather, there are some very creative plots out there. Rachel was right when she said that the robstar ship is the largest. If this is what Starfire has been reading in her spare time then it's no wonder she looks at him with expectation in her eyes. The Robin presented in the majority of those stories is an all around good guy who seems to know all the right things to say and do. Did she think he could or even would try to live up to these standards? Robin, the leader, might try to fashion himself in such a way, but Richard, the man, is definitely no saint. Richard isn't convinced that Starfire realizes that there is a difference between his hero persona and the real him. He couldn't really blame her for that. Her feelings for him developed when they were younger and he was still trying to be the thing that "Robin" stood for. Justice, selflessness, heroism. The older Richard grew, the more he learned of the world and the more jaded he became. What exactly is true justice? Is it the Code of Hammurabi; an eye for an eye? Or was it something softer? Like accounting for the circumstances of the perpetrators? Either way, a crime has been committed and consequences must be administered. Richard is selfish enough to seize the power that comes with being the one to dole out those punishments. He is worthy and the belief in his own worthiness is troubling. That level of hubris has lead many heroes, fictional and real, down a slippery slope of self destruction. Richard is very aware of this. It motivates him to analyze every move his makes and impose strict restraints to check himself.

Lately, however, those restraints have been weakening around a certain raven with violet eyes. He had started his foray into fanfiction in the robstar section but curiosity has brought him to robrae. Now he is flicking through the various stories offered on this website. Some stories are lighthearted and funny. Focusing on the development of their friendship. Others have a more romantic twist to them. Then, there were the darker tales that call out to the thoughts and feelings that he keeps buried deep inside himself. If he were being honest with himself, some of these authors have put into writing the very things he has only dreamed about doing to his Rachel. He is mildly amused, but also very disturbed. The thought of nameless, faceless men and women fantasizing about his beloved's naked body twisting and contorting in various positions of pleasure, aching and needy, angers him in a way that he cannot quite explain. It did not matter to Richard whether or not her partner in these stories is him, Beastboy, Cyborg or even Starfire. Who are these no bodies to be playing with her body, even if it is in their fantasies? Her body is his body. It should not be objectified for someone else's pleasure. To think that this is what Melvin is reading in her spare time is also unsettling. No wonder Rachel is trying to keep someone so young and impressionable away from the mature section of these fanfiction sites.

While Richard isn't comfortable with other people sexualizing Rachel, he understands that this could potentially be a whole new world of propaganda that he didn't even knew existed. The more he thought about it, the more he sees potential in fanfiction. As it stands right now, the communities seems to be split between robstar and bbrae with a few outliers here and there. Could there possibly be a way to shift public opinion using this fandom? After all, perception is reality. Starfire and Beastboy have been reading these stories and using these fantasies to pursue their realities. How would the community react if he could, theoretically, shift the focus from robstar to robrae? Would they take it and run with it or would they argue against it? How would Rachel react if there is public pressure for their hero personas to entertain a romance? Would she be more willing to accept his...affections? He doubts she would allow herself to be swayed by that. If she could be so easily bent in one direction then she would already have succumbed to those expectations a long time ago. Richard shivers in disgust at the thought of his immature subordinate pawing at his friend and is privately proud of Rachel's will power in defying other people's opinions.

Fanfiction might be a useful tool in the future, Richard thinks to himself as he closes all his apps and puts his phone away. He nods his thanks to the two women who were charged with making him look presentable for high society and finds his way back to his bedroom. His tongue running over the residue of the gel they used to whiten and brighten his teeth. It's a lot of work being handsome.

The first order of business upon returning to his quarters is brushing his teeth and rewashing his face. They used quite a few lotions and potions to moisturize his skin and buff away any roughness to the skin they could find. It left him feeling a bit icky, instead of refreshed. Once he is satisfied with his cleanliness, it is time to suit up, but before he can get dressed he needs to pick up his mess. He practically snuck into the Wayne manor like a thief last night. He didn't have the energy to neatly put his things away like he would have normally done. Instead, he stripped himself down to his briefs and took himself to bed. Now, he finds himself scooping his clothing up off the floor.

As he is holding his clothes, he notices that there is a stray strand of violet hair embedded into the fabric of his shirt. He carefully pulls it out and rolls it between his manicured thumb and index fingers. The texture is silky smooth. Just like her skin felt last night…

"Are you really leaving without saying goodbye?" asks a low feminine voice from the doorway. Richard feels his whole body tense and his heart drop to his stomach. After listening to her shower and allowing his emotions and hormones to run free, he felt too guilty to seek her out. He left her copy of The Prince on her desk and left like the coward he knows he can be. He knew he was running away, but he was doing it for both their sakes right now.

"I thought that you were still mad at me," is his nervous reply. His duffle bag of basic necessities sitting in the trunk of his car. He still has not turned around to face her yet. Biding his time as he slowly closes the trunk.

There is a deep sigh behind him as he hears a delicate tinkle from the charms on her ankle as soft feet shuffle along the garage's concrete floor. Is she not wearing shoes? "I'm not...I'm not mad at you, exactly. I'm more annoyed than anything. At myself mostly. The one time I let my guard down is the one time a man tried to take advantage of me."

He turns around at her soft admission and takes a good look at her. Rachel's expression is sad and a bit rueful. Her large violet eyes appear to be tearing up and the corners of her full lips are slightly turned up in a sardonic smile. She looks like a melancholic damsel standing there in her black halter top and navy blue shorts. Damp hair clinging to the base of her neck as she stands before him barefoot.

"I still shouldn't have mentioned him. I know that he's a tender topic for you," Richard says as he perches himself on the hood of his closed trunk. He reaches for her hand to pull her closer as he asks, "Why are you barefoot?"

She glances at her own feet and laughs a little, "I was trying to catch you before you left. I saw that you left the book on my desk when I finished my shower."

She allows herself to be guided by her friend. She doesn't know that the only man she truly trusts is in a heated debate with himself. There is a part of Richard that wants to pull her onto his lap. Feel her weight on top of him. Absorb the heat radiating between her thighs as he wraps his arms around her to keep her in place as his body responds to her scent. His fingers twitch around her hand because they want to be buried in her damp hair. Forcing her head back so that he can run his tongue from the base of her delicate neck to the tip of her chin before sinking his teeth into her tender flesh. Feel her squirm as he twists a sensitive nipple between his fingers. His ears want to hear her cries echoing off the garage walls. This very same garage that he caught her hugging Cyborg in not too long ago. Hug me with your arms, Rachel. Hug me with your legs. Hug me while I move inside of you...

The more sensible part of Richard knew that this was not the time to act out his darker thoughts. They are trying to recover from a quarrel. Instead, he guides her to sit beside him on top of the trunk like a good leader would. As he is attempting to stuff his baser instincts back into the darkest corner of his mind, she lightly pats his knee. This does not help. "Malchoir will always be a sore spot for me. It's hard to tell who is trying to be my real friend and who has ulterior motives."

Richard makes a noise of agreement at the back of his throat. He can't bring himself to say anything because his brain can only seem to focus on the heat of her hand on his leg. She looks at him with a small genuine smile as she lays her head on his shoulder and says, "At least I know you care about me, Dick. You've always been there for me. I appreciate that. With you I don't have to worry about being manipulated or wonder if you have other motives."

She can't see his face because her head is resting on his shoulder. If she could, Rachel would be confused by his expression. Richard's jaws are clenched tight and his eyes are closed shut. Brows are deeply furrowed. His nostrils are flared. He is simultaneously taking in deep breaths to calm himself while her scent assaults his self control. Her proximity and her words of trust are eroding the line between action and inaction. She does not realize the dangerous territory that she is dancing in, but he does. The only two things keeping him in check is his genuine appreciation for their friendship and her demonic powers. Suddenly, she moves away from him and sits up straighter and Richard sighs a little in relief.

"I meant what I said though, Dick. You are a hot mess. I personally think you need a girlfriend," she says as she hops off the trunk of his car. She turns around to face him. "Are you okay?"

Richard releases a deep breath and says, "I'm fine. I don't need a girlfriend. That's another complication that I don't want to have to juggle."

"...this is what I mean. People are complicated, but that doesn't mean that they are a 'complication.' All work and no play is making Dick a dull boy."

Then let me play with you, Rachel, Richard thinks to himself but knows better than to say it out loud. Instead he says, "I honestly don't have time for a girlfriend. Between the demands of being a Titian and Batman, there just isn't enough hours in a day."

"Then how about dating someone from the Titians? Hmmm? They'll be able to understand the pressure you're under and help you through it," is Rachel's excited response.

Dear lord, Richard can see where this is going, "Who do you have in mind? Please don't say Starfire."

"I was hoping it would be her. But I'll accept Cyborg as a runner up!" she says with a cheesy grin.

"Why are people so determined for us to be a 'thing?''' he asks without really expecting an answer.

"I don't know about other people, but I do know that she has a crush on you and she wants to mean more to you than just being a powerful teammate. She has told me so many times when we have 'girl time.'" Rachel seriously says. "I don't think you two are incompatible. She'll liven up your dreary life a little bit."

This is an odd experience. The woman he desperately loves is trying to convince him to pursue a relationship with another. Richard just shakes his head. He is unwilling to go down that rabbit hole in the same way he is unwilling to corrupt his pure friendship with Rachel. There is no rewinding from either one of those choices.

"I'm not interested. You told me yourself that Star reads a lot of this fanfiction thing. Can you guarantee that her interest in me is real and not just a fantasy she's been told she is supposed to have?"

It's Rachel's turn to shake her head. "I couldn't answer that. I just know that you're a good person and she's a good person." She cups Richard's face in the palms of both her hands as she continues, "You deserve happiness. Even if it's not with her. You deserve to be happy. You should do things that bring joy to your life."

Would you still say that if you knew spreading your body across the hood of my car would bring me joy? Defiling you and destroying my good image in your eyes? Richard thinks to himself. He knew that he wasn't a good person. He is not what his alter ego, Robin, pretends to be. He whispers, "What if I'm not a good person?"

She scoffs and Richard relishes the feel of her thumbs stroking his cheeks. His own hands wrap around her wrists and he enjoys the feel of silky warm skin under his callous fingertips. "I didn't say you are perfect. I said good. We are all inherently flawed, my friend. But even underneath those flaws, lives a decent man. I support whatever choice you make as long as it makes you happy."

He nods at her words of encouragement. Relieved that their quarrel hasn't left any lasting damage to their relationship. But he needs to leave. What she is saying is arousing a darker part of his mind that is urging him to take her words of love as permission to do as he pleases. "I need to go."

"Okay," she says surprising Richard by wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She's not really the hugging type, but he guesses that her time around Starfire has made her more comfortable with the action. He weaves his arms around her body as he stands to his full height. Lifting her off the ground. Her bare feet dangling. His face is buried in her hair as he crushes her warm breasts against his hard chest. Soft curves melting into strong muscles. He can feel her breath against his neck and the length of her whole body pressed flushed against him. He fleetingly wonders if she realizes that she's rubbing against his erection as his hold tightens in desperation. Desperate to hold on to his friendship, his emotions...his lust. There is a soft puff of warmth in his ear when she whispers his name, "Dick?" He has to suppress a groan as he lets her go. He really needs to leave…

The drive to Wayne Manor after that encounter was reckless. He could not keep his mind on the road and was thankful that it was the dead of night so traffic was light. By the time he made it to his destination he had already worked himself into a mental frenzy and didn't want to deal with anyone. He made his way straight to his usual room, stripped, and tried to sleep. Richard was finally able to doze off in the wee hours of the morning just to be woken by Alfred and his "insistence" that he take a spa day because he's seen better days. Alfred speak for "you look like shit."

Richard rolls Rachel's strand of hair in between his fingers again. He didn't want to throw it away. It belongs to her and he wants to keep it for however long he is away from her. He curls it around his pointer finger until it is in a neat little circle and wraps it in the handkerchief he will wear with his suit this evening. He rationalizes that this is not crazy or creepy at all. It was not uncommon to keep a lock of hair from a loved one during the Victorian era. This isn't all that different. Is it?

He checks the time as he is getting dressed. Alfred had asked to meet him in the bat cave before the gala begins. So, Richard dons his three piece, charcoal gray suit like battle armor and runs his fingers through his messy hair. He looks at himself in the mirror. Yes. Yes, he looks good. He could pass as the rich, arrogant son of a playboy billionaire. His entire attire costs about half of someone's yearly salary.

On his way to the bat cave, he stops by the kitchen to make himself a nice cup of coffee. This is going to be a long evening and he's going to need extra stamina to smile politely and deal with all this fake energy. As he is rummaging through the cabinets, he finds a tin of cookies and decides to bring it to cave with him. He strolls into the ultimate crime fighting den with his treasures in hand, only to be met by Alfred's exasperated expression.

"Master Grayson. You must eat those cookies over a napkin or else you will soil your freshly tailored suit," is Richard's greeting.

"I will," he replies as he sips his coffee. "What did you want to see me down here for?"

"We called you down here to share some new information and technology with you," came a deep voice behind Richard. He turns around to see Bruce Wayne emerging from the shadows. He, too, is already dressed for tonight's event in his customary black suit that has detailed embroidery along the collar and lapels. A golden pin with the logo of Wayne Enterprise is elegantly attached to his cravat.

Bruce continues with, "We normally would have waited until tomorrow, but I have too many engagements on my itinerary so we will explain it to you now."

Richard nods his understanding while carefully nibbling on a cookie and sipping his coffee. Alfred is opening a refrigerated cooler and pulling out a vial. He places it on a tray and brings it to the table Richard and Bruce are residing at. The vial appears to be holding clear liquid and there is a label that has some ice crusted on it.

"This is Inhibitor 4, Batch 6, or I4.6 for short" says Alfred.

Bruce supplies, "This is an experimental drug that Alfred and I have been working on for years. As the name implies, this is an inhibitor. The purpose is to suppress the powers of the opponent that you're fighting. As you know, there aren't that many humans who take part in vigilante crime fighting. Nor should they. But we do. Even though you are the current leader of the Titians, you are still a man. A human. When they cut you, you will bleed and if they cut you deeply enough, you will die."

"This drug is to help level the playing field, if you will, Master Grayson." Richard's eyes are bouncing between Bruce, Alfred and the seemingly innocuous vial on the table. He can't say that he is truly surprised or shocked. It's the logical course of action from the standpoint of the men at this table. Their enemies are super human beings that can shape shift, spit fire, fly, morph, summon demons from the depths of hell etc. How does someone with no real physical power compete with that?

"What exactly does it do?" ask Richard as he drops his cookie and picks up the cold vial of liquid.

"It effects everyone a little differently. If a human ingests or inhales it, they will experience muscle weakness and a disruption in their motor skills. A similar logic applies to super humans as well. The purpose of I4.6 is interrupt or inhibit the signal from the brain that triggers the super human's power. Again, it manifests differently in different people, but the general outcome on the ones we have tested is that it will either make their powers unstable or completely cut them off for a short while," Bruce says with a straight face. "No one knows about this except for the 3 of us at this table. Soon to be 4 when Jason gets here. This is will be our trump card in case we are in a fight with someone who is particularly dangerous and can't be handled using any other means."

"Does something like this work on someone like Superman?" asks Richard as he watches the air bubble in the vial move from side to side as he tilts it.

"No, but for Superman we have kryptonite. I4.6 is inspired by the weapons that we've created in case we every need to take him down," says Bruce. "As of right now, we can manufacture this drug in a serum and gas form. The off the books sector of Wayne Enterprise is working to weaponize this and put it into production with limited quantities. Just for our use, right now. We won't be selling this to any other country or agencies,"...yet.

That "yet" was hanging in the air at this table. Richard places the vial back on the tray. "If this is Inhibitor 4, what happened with 1 through 3?"

"They were highly unstable, Master Grayson. Extended use of a the earlier versions would put someone in a premature grave," is Alfred's response. Richard nods in understanding as three powerful men sit at this table, contemplating mortality, power and survival.

Uncle Ben said it best, "With great power comes great responsibility." Right RiChArD?