Four more days had passed agonizingly slow. The thought of survival had passed and was long gone. He didn't even think he would survive the year. Robin's appearance was terrorizing and unrecognizable. Well, to most people. His smile was long gone, replaced not with a scowl or clenched teeth, but of a lax jaw and split lips parted slightly, trying to breathe. His nose was broken, resulting in two black eyes, one almost swollen shut. Dried blood clung to his skin, from his nose, the corner of his mouth and his eyebrow, where Slade had inflicted a deep wound.
His hair was catawampus. A real tragedy, what was once thick rich onyx locks, now was what looked like a child getting hold of shears. The worst part was the burnt skin that covered his scalp from the acid rinse.
His torso was covered in deep gashes, inflicted by a nine tail whip. This could have been one of Slade's worse methods. While Robin was knocked out by the drugs that he had been shooting him up with every night, Slade undid the restrains and sat him in a chair, facing a table. Strapped in, of course. His hands were chained to surface, only free to move about a foot in any direction. The table was solid steel and much too heavy to be moved. Robin roused to find rope and broken nails in front of him. Slade had ordered him to braid his own whip, which would be used on him. The most dreaded part was when Slade said, "don't try to sabotage it to hurt less, if any one of those nails comes lose, I'll drive it into your back." Unknown to poor Robin, Slade and tampered with it before the flogging, and made a nail fall out. Robin's back was stuck to the table from the dried blood. The recent flogging had reopened the wounds from the last one, and there wasn’t much feeling back there anymore.
Bruises had formed on his shoulders and neck, from Slade grappling and thrashing. The cuts on his arms were healing, and without infection thanks to the alcohol. His shorts were soiled. There was no other way to say it. After being water cured, the liquid still in his stomach made the rest of the trip. He had asked Slade to use the restroom, but the old man had just laughed. So, weakened and unable to hold any longer, Robin found himself embarrassed and disgusted.
His legs were practically black from bruises. His right one was broken and was beginning to heal incorrectly. The inside and back of his legs were raw. Slade had taken a rope ran it back and forth, building up friction, resulting in a flaming rope burn. Robin was thankful the table was cold. Last, second degree burns lavished the pads of his feet and his broken toes.
Robin didn't know why exactly, but Slade hadn't touched his eyes. They were dull and lifeless, from listening to the voices of the past, and hearing his own screams and bones breaking. He concluded that it was because of the mask. Slade wanted Robin dead, not Dick Grayson. Those sad deep cobalt orbs were of a child's, hidden away from crime, wanting to be forgotten. That theory or Slade just wanted to make sure he saw his suffering.
He preferred the latter.
Just when the thought it was over for the day, the table gave a sudden jerk. He was pulled just an inch downwards. This perplexed him, until he heard the familiar sound of the faucet creek.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Right smack dab in the middle of his forehead. Robin's eyes widened as he realized that Slade was using one of the cruelest forms of torture there was. Robin wasn't going to let him have satisfaction. He closed his eyes and turned the dripping into beats inside his head. He listened to blasting loud music when he was irritated, so he thought of a song that matched and played it internally over and over. A growl came from Slade's direction and Robin knew he was up one on him, but his victory was short lived.
He heard the door open again, the door of things past he called it. His eyes shot wide open when he heard the voice coming from the door.
"Hey Dick! Come on out and play!" The sounds of laughing children echo from behind him.
That sounds like Charlie...
Charlie wasn't a friend, nor would Robin ever consider him one. After his parents died, he was taken from his circus family and put into an 'orphanage'…more like a juvenile detention center. There, they had a pathetic playground with barbed wire fences enclosing it. The toys were rusted and paint was chipping, the swings creaked and the cement welcomed poorly tied shoelaces and greasy hands unable to hold onto the handlebars. Oh how he hated that place. He hated it from day one. All those kids where bitter and took it out on everyone in their path.
Except little Richard. He was not angry with anyone, besides the person that cut the ropes, he was only lonely and scared. He missed his parents and had no one else to go to. They should have left him at the circus. There were days that Robin couldn't remember anything else that happened at that facility. Every day, he was forced to go outside in that hell yard for an hour. As soon as the bell for release would ring, he would make a mad dash for a certain play set. It was shaped like an egg, with metal bars criss-crossing it to make it like a cage. The inside was big enough to fit one full sized man, if he crouched. Every day, Robin was forced to huddle into a ball, to protect himself from rocks and sticks. What hurt the most was the words.
“Look at the little chicken! Hiding in his egg!” The taunting, it all came from this Charlie kid. "Hey Dick! Let's play a game! It'll be lots of fun!"
It never was.
Robin went back to this painful memory as he heard Charlie in the doorway. "Come on out! Richie boy! Everyone's waiting! There's no use hiding, we'll find you. We always find you."
The door slowly swung shut. As it did, he heard echoes of the children singing, “Richie! Richie! What’s wrong Dick? Why do you cry?” He swore he could still hear the laughing as it slowly faded away.
"No Charlie...I'm too old for games."
"Who’s Charlie? Hmm?" Slade asked.
"A kid. Almost as twisted as you."
"That's quite a feat. I'll have to meet this Charlie sometime."
Robin huffed.
“Come on little birdie, tell me. Was this after your parents died?”
He looked away.
“Here’s a fun story for you. You’ve met my son, correct? He’s one of you now, and wants nothing to do with me. Many years ago, my wife convinced me to take Joey out for the night. Treat him to a little bonding time.” He chuckled to himself. “So I took him to Haly’s circus 2000, the greatest in the world!”
Robin’s swollen eyes widened.
“He loved it. The lion tamers, the ridiculous clowns, the elephants…but what impressed me was the family of trapeze artists. They claimed to be so skilled, they worked without a net. They were amazing, simply death defying…or so we thought. Some cold blooded fiend decided to sabotage the rigging. The two that were on the wire fell, down…down…down…and splattered on the cement.”
Robin clenched his jaw. “Until recently, I did not realize that the little boy who ran out to them and begged them to wake up was you. You took your mothers bloody body into your arms and wept over her, remember? I have seen your pain, because I’ve seen you cry. No, not cry, scream. Wail. Curse the world and everyone in it. Because you knew it was going to happen. You could have saved them, but because of that carelessness, your parents died, and it was all your fault.”
“THAT’S A LIE!” Robin spat.
“Ooo, defensive are we? Now why would that be? Guilty conscience?”
“No! I tried to save them! They wouldn’t listen to me!”
“Oh, but you didn’t try hard enough.”
“Stop it!”
“How does it feel to yell and not be heard? You can beg and plead all you want, but no one is coming to save you. You are alone.”
“I’m not alone! My family is waiting for me!”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Then why are you broadcasting it to them?!”
“Every performer loves an audience.”
“You’re sick!”
“And you’re just a child. There’s apart of you that still needs affection and care. I can see it in your eyes. You’re lost. Trapped in the past. Little boy, you don’t know what to do. You’re defenses are destroyed and you know very well the more you resist the harder this will become.”
“I can take it.” He said unsure.
“Maybe you can, but not the world. When you are gone, there will be nothing to stop me from bringing others ‘the same fate of yours’.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, wouldn’t I? Tell me, have I ever lied to you?”
“I hate you.”
“And I hold more contempt for you then your guardian does.”
“He doesn’t hate me!”
“Are you sure? Did he ever prove it to you? All he ever did was stop you from doing the things you loved. And when you left, did he come to find you? No. He replaced you.”
“He didn’t! He couldn’t…”
“Then why does his new side kick wear the same costume you do? And why have you never met him?”
Robin scowled and shut his eyes tight.
“Poor child. Love has eluded you. You do not deserve to be loved, you are undesirable. I offered to be your father, but you turned me down.”
“I don’t need love.”
“You are a poor liar.” Slade cleared his throat and went to his tools. "That's it for today." Slade stated and began to administer the nightly drug.
"More..." Robin grunted.
"Excuse me?"
"I want more this time." He didn't care what the drug was, but the feeling of euphoria and numbness had decreased the last couple of times he had it, he figured his body was building up a resistance to it.
"You know this is a bad and illegal drug, correct?"
"I don't care...I need more..."
"Is that an addiction? My my Richard, I didn't think you were one to get addicted to things." He doubled the dose much to Robin's relief and plunged it into his neck. The ecstasy hit him like a refreshing wave. The pain subsided immensely and his mind was tingling with warmth. It lasted long enough for Slade to leave before the sickness and heightened senses kicked in, that he could have done without.
He began to feel tired and right before he fell asleep, he felt a ghost of a kiss on his cheek and a sweet voice say, "Good night Robin, sweet shlorvaks..."
The titans sat in the common room, much like any other day. Crime was low, and they were thankful that villains weren't catching on to the missing leader. Starfire had let the team in on her call to Batman, and they said that she had made the right choice; Robin wouldn't care if someone from his past was contacted if it meant his life being spared. Although, this was Robin, one could never be too sure.
Slade's calls were random and unpredictable. He seemed to call whenever he felt like it. He did once in the middle of the night, Cyborg had been the only one to answer, his charging finished and his human side needing a snack.
Most calls involved a threat to Robin, not directed at their actions, but more throwing out ideas of what he would do to make everyone shudder. The message then ended with the camera moving over to Robin, where Slade would ask him, "anything you want to say to your friends?"
Robin had never replied.
Cyborg had uploaded a special frequency to automatically relay the message to Batman when Slade called, without being detected.
Today, Slade's face flashed on the screen, and made Beast Boy jump...as usual.
"Hello again, you seem well."
The titans waited patiently.
"Today, I thought we'd mix it up a bit. Instead of telling you what I'm going to do, I'm going to show you. But first I believe Richard has a few words for you."
The camera panned to the invalid, his face plastered with anger, sadness, and longing.
"What was it that you wanted to say?" Slade chided.
Robin turned his head and pressed his lips.
"Now my boy, I thought we discussed this." Slade grabbed his face with one hand and jerked it toward the camera. “You’ll have to say it eventually.”
Robin's voice was soft and raspy. "I'm sorry." He choked.
"Sorry for what?" his tormentor prodded.
"I'm sorry for failing you all as a leader. I can’t lead you anymore…not like this..."
"You haven't failed us!" Starfire was speaking loud and sympathetically.
"Are you stupid?!” His voice cracked and his eyes stared at her beautiful image on the screen in desperation. “Look at me, listen to me, do I sound like a leader anymore? I...I can't...no."
Starfire took no offense to the insult and continued. "My dear Robin, you only focus on the present. When we find you, we'll help you. We've, as Cyborg says, 'got your spine', and when you come home, you'll be a better leader than ever."
For the first time in years, Robin fell prey to the water flowing down his bruised and battered cheeks. He let the sobs erupt from his chest as he let out his pain. He cried in front of Slade. He cried in front of his friends. And he cried in front of his father, who he was unaware of listening. Finally, after catching his breath, he choked out five words, while looking directly at the camera. "Star, I'm not coming home."
"There you have it folks," Slade laughed, "straight from his own mouth. He admits that he is finished and done. Now we can move onto the fun part."
The camera zoomed out to see a thick metal wheel attached to a rod hanging from the ceiling. Hooked to the wheel was a chain with another hook on the free end. A picture of Starfire was taped to the rod.
"Raven, you read quite a bit. Have you read the story of Jane Eyre?"
Raven nodded. Internally smirking at Slade for reading a romance novel, then realizing the pain inflicted upon Jane probably gave him great pleasure.
"There is a quote, much fitting in this situation; ‘I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are near me, as now: it as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in your own small frame. And if so boisterous a channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap; and then I've a nervous notion I'd take to bleeding inwardly. As for you--you'd forget me.' Shall we test that theory?"
Slade moved the camera over to show Robin's left side. There, Slade took a parry knife and made a large incision over his lower rib, exposing it. Robin yelped as a small trickle of blood teased his side. Chain in hand, Slade hooked the lower rib and gave it a firm tug. Robin moved with the chain, showing it wouldn't come unhooked.
Slade then explained what was happening. "This device is old and not exactly my style, but it will work nicely. The rod will move across the room and as it moves, the wheel will turn and wind up the chain. There's 20 feet of slack, and this room is 30 feet across. In other words, the farther this Starfire moves, the tighter the chain will pull...and we'll find out if Richie boy here takes to internal bleeding."
The machine started up with a roar and the clanking of chains sounded from the floor.
"I cannot watch!" Starfire buried her face in her knees and Beast Boy placed a comforting hand on her back. Robin likewise closed his eyes and waited.
It seemed like forever; the anxiety of it all weighted down and made it hard to breathe.
Then soon enough, the chain gave a light tug on his bones, and then pulled harder and harder until Robin's body moved to go with it. He felt his muscles strain and his joints creak. He swore his heard his skin tearing as it pulled tighter. He heard the restrains creek and felt pressure on his wrists and ankles. Everything burned. Suddenly, there was a sharp crack and the hook went flying across the room. He shrieked from the sound. He felt back onto the table harshly. His body was numb, but he could feel the blood spilling out of him.
That crack did it, Robin was visibly shaking and whimpering. Slade had finally broken him, after all his attempts. His deep laughter echoed through the room and Robin panicked. Where was he? What was going to happen next?
"That was quite a success, don't you think?"
"Stay away...leave me alone!" His voice cracked and was wavering.
"What's wrong? Are you scared?"
"Stop it! Stop and leave me alone! Please!"
"How delightful." Slade chirped. "I'm sorry dear boy, but I can't have you die from blood loss."
"I'm scared... I'm so scared..."
"I know you are." He brought out a welding tool and let it heat up.
"Let me go...I want to go home...haven't you had enough?"
Slade didn't answer, and but picked up the searing hot device. "All the lives you've saved, all the possessions you've returned to the rightful owners, all the justice you've dealt...what was it for?"
Robin was sick of his voice. But there was nothing else to do but answer the question. "I should have died with my parents. But I didn't. I just wanted to make sure no one else suffered the same fate I did."
Slade was quiet a moment and then spoke, his voice soft. "And I thought you were just competitive."
He moved the protruding rib back into place, and then grabbed the surrounding skin and seared it back together. Robin gagged at smell of his burning flesh.
Slade ended the transmission there.
The team sat speechless, staring at the screen in horror. That was what he was going through every day? Starfire was weeping openly.
None of them slept that night, they each sat in their rooms waiting for some news from Batman. Starfire, however, laid on Robin's bed, unable to believe that he would never come home. It wasn't home without him.