How to Lose a Bird

Chapter 13

Slight warning for creepy stuff. Just letting all of you know now.

    One thing that Robin learned through his four years of being a Gotham vigilante; getting thrown face-first onto concrete hurt. A lot.
    His breathing was labored, and every part of him felt off, as if he wasn't in his own body. Robin's temples were pulsing with pain, along with a circular area on his forehead. He could feel his fingers, arms, and even his legs twitching in spasms like he had just been electrocuted. The ebony's eyebrows scrunched together, his eyes squeezed shut beneath his mask as he tried to regain some control over his own body functions.
    The cool concrete beneath him relieved some of the pain and heat his body seemed to be feeling, but it could only help so much.
    Robin's mind was fuzzy, like white noise. Everytime he tried to focus on one thing, such as the smooth surface beneath his forehead was rested on, his thoughts were scattered. It was like a puzzle that didn't have a complete picture.
    The tingling then increased, and now the birds whole body convulsed, his eyes bulging out of his head as a seemingly invisible force of electricity surged through him. But, just as soon as it began, his whole body stilled and his breathing evened out.
    Slowly, with great effort, Robin's mind started to be pieced back together. He was still lying face down on the concrete, and it just now came to him the awkward position his left arm was in, streched over the back of his neck. With a grunt of pain and a new wave of tingling originating from the appendage, the ebony managed to sluggishly move his arm to rest beside his head.
    His mind was finally clearing, and the first thing he felt besides the subsiding pain was a spike of panic.
    The last thing he remembered before the fire in his brain grew was being strapped down to the table, with the Doctor's voice coming from the speakers embedded throughout the room.
    And judging on the position he was now in, Robin could safely assume that he was no longer in that room on the table. In fact, he probably wasn't even in the same building anymore, if that man had any intelligence at all.
    Intelligence that didn't involve bringing pain to others, that is.
An unabashed groan came from Robin at his situation. He felt like a little eight-year old kid again, helpless, alone, and not having any idea what was going on. It was that day all over again, only slightly less earth shattering.
Slowly, the tingling having now almost completely vanished, Robin pushed off of the floor. His arms shook with the effort, and he felt even more pathetic. He could jump off buildings, knock out fully grown men, and bench over a hundred pounds, but he couldn't lift himself off of the floor? It would have been less embarrassing if he was injured, but apart from a now killer headache and the ache he felt in his muscles, Robin couldn't feel anything physically wrong.
His legs curled in under him, and the ebony was now on all fours, but still couldn't manage to lift his head up. It felt like it had been smashed by Bane's fist one too many times.
With a head as heavy as lead, Robin sluggishly brought his head up, and waited for his vision to stop spinning. It wasn't very noticeable before, staring at the simple gray stone, but now that there were other things to be seen everything swirled.
He lifted his right hand off of the floor and cradled the side of his head in his hand. After repeatedly blinking rapidly, along with shaking his head a few times, Robin's vision finally cleared and he was able to analyze his surroundings. Just as he was taught.
The room he was in was made entirely from concrete, with cracks like spiderwebs running up and along the walls. There were also some on the ceiling, which would be of concern for a cave in, but the bird figured that was the least of his problems at the moment.
Each wall was no longer than a miniature bus, with some parts of it seemingly crumbling at the spots where cracks were visible. Robin also noted that it was most likely this was a part of a larger building, unless someone decided to build a random concrete box in the middle of nowhere.
On the wall in front of him was a stack of about twenty shoe boxes, but they were so old and withered that he couldn't tell what brand or style they were. Most looked empty, but there were a few that seemed to still have shoes.
Looking to the left he saw much of the same thing, only with a cabinet next to the discarded boxes. To Robin's there was nothing but a metal door, which was open just a sliver.
The familiar weight of his belt was missing, which was to be expected, but now Robin realized that he was in a completely different outfit.
Instead of the tight spandex and cape that he was previously wearing, he now wore a simple red T-shirt with gray sweatpants that hung loosly off of his hips, obviously too big for his slim frame. Robin's feet were bare, and, to his relief, his mask was still firmly placed on his face.
Robin's eyes narrowed. He took in the details he could see, and none of the conclusions his mind came up with made any sense.
If the Doctor put him in another building, why would he leave the door unlocked and open? What exactly did that man do to him? If it really was a sadistic experimen of an unhinged scientist, then wouldn't be want to see the effects of whatever he did?
All of these things just made his head throb even more painfully than before.
With a large sigh, Robin tried to fight the sluggishness his limbs felt and rose to his feet. Everything spun for a moment, making him stumble and lean against the crumbling wall in from of him for support.
Bile rose into the ebony's throat, and he closed his eyes to try to fight off the sickness.
After taking several deep breaths he felt his stomach settle once again. Robin's eyes popped open once again, and he set his determined gaze on the door in the corner of the room.
With stumbling steps the bird managed to make it to the metal door, and grasped the knob as firmly as he could in an attempt to quell the shaking in his hands. Pulling the door towards him he swung it open, and was met with a scarcely lit hallway.
It had only two flickering orange lights hanging precariously from the ceiling, and the washed out, gray wallpaper was coated with stains that Robin could only guess at. At the end of the hallway was a simple, oak door, that looked much newer than the rest of the building that he had seen.
Swallowing his nerves, Robin slowly plowed forward, his steps steady and much more confident.
As he got closer to the door, Robin could have sworn he heard soft, melodic circus music playing behind it. He simply shook it off as his delirium at the moment, but as he stood right in front of the door, there was no mistaking the music that was playing.
An eyebrow rose onto Robin's forehead, but despite his caution and curiousity that he now felt, he knew that the only way was forward.
Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the worst, Robin's muscles tensed as he gripped the door knob and flung the door open. He immidiately fell into a sloppy defensive stance, knowing that in his state, fighting wouldn't be a very good option. But it was all that he could think to do any his situation.
Although, what he saw on the other side of the door was not at all what he was expecting.
Honestly, he wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking he might see. Maybe a lab full of vials, or even a room full of armed guards ready to open fire. He might even expect to end up outside, in the scorching desert, blizzarding snowstorm, or deserted city block.
He was not, however, in any way prepared to see the Joker, standing about five yards away, hands on his hips, wearing a purple robe with a sadistic smile unnaturally stretching his pale face.
Before the utter shock could be wiped off of his face, the mad-man before him let out a high pitched giggle.
His shaggy green hair was sticking up everywhere in an extreme case of bed head, and his eyes were also littered with a tiny element of drowsiness. The make-up slathered on the clowns face seemed to be hastily done, but, if possible, seemed more terrifying than the smeared neatness it usually had.
    If Robin didn't know any better, he would say the psychopath had just been asleep. Which in his mind was a foreign concept, as he couldn't image any of the villains he fought (except for maybe Riddler) doing anything a normal person might.
    It never really occurred to him that almost everyone he fought was a human who needed basic human needs, as all he regularly saw was the worst side humanity had to offer. Robin had started to think that the high-class villains he fought weren't even human at all (although some of them really weren't, such as Killer Croc and Klarion).
    It scared him to know what Gotham did to him. His gaze softening the slightest bit, Robin's single thought was how dissapointed his mother must have been, degrading even a villain in such a way.
And, sure enough, behind Joker stood a record player, softly belting out a tune from a song that Robin used to hear everytime his family went to preform. It only seemed to drive the point in further.
    The ebony snapped back to the situation at hand when the Joker released a small snort, as if trying to hold back a barrage of laughter.
Most of Robin's attention was directed at the person standing in front of him, but with his addreniline pumping, his senses became hyper aware.
The ebony dully noted the bleak appearance of the domed room, with nothing in it except a rotted, green couch and the record player. Above him the roof seemed to be falling apart, but he could scarcely see the edges of an intricate painting. A silver chandelier was dangling from the ceiling, in obvious disrepair.
It seemed as though this entire building, whatever it was, was slowly withering away before his very eyes.
The clown before him giggled again, and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture, his eyes radiating pure insanity.
"C'mon, Robbie! Don't you wanna give your ole' Uncle Jay a hug? It's been forever since I've last seen you!" the Joker exclaimed, stretching his arms even farther to exaggerate his point.
Robin, however, slipped into 'Batman Mode'. A scowl adorning his features, his shock completely gone and his defensive stance became stronger. Robin gave the Joker his best Bat-glare. This only seemed to make his smile wider, to the birds disgust.
"Joker." he spat, making sure to put as much venom in his tone as possible. "What's your game here?" the clowns smile faltered, and he lowered his arms to rest at his sides.
"I'm dissapointed, Bird Boy. Didn't the big, bad bat teach you anything about manners?"
"Not when it comes to psychopaths. Now answer the question!" Robin instantly retorted, earning another ear splitting grin from the green haired man. He let out a hearty chuckle, one that seemed to actually contain a sick sense of mirth.
"Why would there be a game? Can't we just chat, Uncle to Nephew? Especially now that we don't have to worry about that pesky flying rodent!" Robin narrowed his eyes, and became even more tense as the Joker took a step forward.
"What are you talking about?" the bird asked warily, watching intently as the Joker reached inside of his robe. He seemed to grab something with his left hand, and pulled it out. Robin tensed.
    It was a large buck knife, with small feathers hanging off of the red, black, and yellow hilt. Robin's blood ran cold as he the fire situation finally sunk in.
He was off of his game still, the strong pain in his head from earlier still present, albeit not as strong.
He wasn't wearing his uniform, and had no weapons he could defend himself with besides brute strength and brains, the former the clown outmatching him with.
And he was alone. Even on a good day, Robin had a very small chance of defeating the Joker without Batman's help. And that was when the clown made an unscheduled appearance, when he wasn't supposed to be at the scene at all.
For once, he wished he just obeyed Bruce's order and stayed in the Manor that night.
Yet, even with these odds stacked against him, Robin found that he was still hopeful. Maybe he couldn't beat the Joker, but there was always the small chance that the mad-man would underestimate him, as so many people before had done.
Then the Joker would be wishing he had simply estimated him.
When the clown took one more step forward, the bird found himself holding his ground, his eyes filled with determination and a sliver of hope that he might survive this.
Or, at the very least, have a quick death.
"Well, I was pretty sad to learn that Batman didn't bring his little bird along when I escaped Arkham. After all, it had been quite a while since I had last seen you," he began, his bright red, smudged lips curling into a vicious smirk. "So imagine how excited I was when I woke up to your beautiful voice singing through the halls. That man said that someone else might be coming over, but he didn't tell me who. Obviously, now I know, and I couldn't be happier!"
In a movement that was fast enough to rival the flash, the Joker was in front of him, holding the knife to his neck. Robin's eyes widened, but he found himself frozen to the spot as the knife dug just deep enough to let out a trickle of blood.
"Now, how about we play a game, hm?" he whispered in a scratchy voice, leaning in close. Robin took a step back on instinct, and the Joker moved fast.
Grabbing the teen's left arm with his unoccupied hand, he wrenched Robin to the side a pinned him to the wall beside the door, which he promptly slammed closed. His right arm was now placed at the ebony's throat, pressing just hard enough to make it an effort to breath. The knife came up to the side of his face, the tip lightly gliding from the left corner of his mouth to the edge of his eye.
"What kind of game would you suggest, little bird?" his voice was even quieter now, and Robin winced as the grotesque breath reached his nose.
The blunt side of the blade was now stroking his left cheek, with Robin's fear now more pronounced. Yet, when had fear ever stopped him from enraging the bed guys who have him cornered?
"Yeah, how about the game called 'Brush Your Teeth Every Once and a While'. " the ebony managed to squeeze out, albeit quietly with his lack of oxygen.
A brief moment of rage filled the Joker's eyes, his smile faltering. But it disappeared with a throaty chuckle.
"I've always liked you better than Batsy. You've got more personality, and not to mention a way better fashion sense." he blurted out randomly, now tracing little shapes into Robin's flesh without actually cutting.
"But I have to admit, " he continued, making an invisible smile into his cheek. "When you first came around, I hated you. You took all of Batman's attention away from me." the blade pierced his skin lightly now, and he traced a light smile into his cheek, blood beginning to appear.
Robin winced slightly at the light pain, but otherwise said nothing.
"Then I realized; you were the perfect opportunity. I could get the Bats attention and get you out of the picture for good. Kill two birds with one stone, per say."
The Joker stopped his hand, and moved the blade off of Robin's skin.
The ebony let out an internal sigh of relief of having the cool metal away from his face, but immidiately felt repulsed as the clown brought the knife to his mouth.
The Joker flicked his young out toward the blade, seeming to find immense pleasure in tasting the small amount of the teen's blood in his mouth. He closed his eyes and gave a content sigh, while Robin fought down the bile threatening to rise into his mouth.
Then the bright green eyes snapped back open, and his smile grew when wider and he leaned in towards Robin's ear.
"How about we play a game called 'Cry-and-Scream'? Doesn't that sound fun?" the way he whispered it sent a shiver down Robin's spine, and the laugh that erupted near his ear made it ten times worse.
With a sense of growing dread, Robin knew one thing for certain as the Joker raised the knife once more.
He was completely and totally screwed.

Yep! That's where I'm ending this book!

Okay, so I'm not going to be using the Joker from Young Justice because, frankly, he was just...disappointing on the show. So I'll be using a more Mark Hamill/Heath Ledger Joker, only slightly 'lighter', but still equally as creepy. (That's what I'm going for, at least)

So, what's going to happen to Robin? Where is he and what happened to his uniform? Why is the Joker there, and what is he up to? What exactly is Batman, the Justice League, and the Team doing? Do they even know what's happening?

All great questions, really, but all (or at least some) will get answered in the sequel. Which has yet to be named.

See Ya in the next book!

~BluePinetree