Forgotten Bonds

Four - Opportunity to Learn

September 12th, 2008. Friday, 9:47 am. 

Slade lifted a hand in the air and shouted, "End sparring sequence." 

The robots ceased their fighting immediately; backing away and lining up at a wall. Robin blinked, surprised as Slade glanced up at him. He scrambled to his feet, getting tangled for a brief moment in the bars of the railing. He stepped down the rest of the stairs hesitantly before stopping as he reached flat concrete ground. Slade's chest heaved once in a deep breath, the bō-staff still in his hand. 

He then tossed the staff to Robin, who expertly caught it. Slade detached another bō-staff from his belt, before expanding it. He readied himself into a stance and motioned a welcoming hand to Robin. 

"So, what do you think of your room?" asked Slade, beginning to circle Robin slowly. Robin returned the movement, stepping a few feet away from the stairs. 

Robin wasn't sure what to say. While he was impressed with it, he was also afraid of what it meant. He wasn't staying here – that much he was sure of. He didn't want Slade to know his every living detail. He didn't want him to know the other Titans' either. 

But after what he just saw, Robin was even more terrified that he would never be able to escape this man. 

However, that didn't stop his stubborn, unruly mouth. 

"Pretty nice, Slade," drawled Robin, smirking widely. "Same clothing size, same bathroom essentials – right down to the hair gel, expensive furniture; all in all, pretty nice. Stalker much, Slade? Although, honestly; you always came across as the cheap type to me. I was definitely sur—" 

Slade bolted towards Robin suddenly at top speed, cutting him off midsentence. His staff swung with a terrible whoosh through the air and connected against Robin's side. Pain erupted from the spot and Robin was thrown to the side, viciously tumbling against the ground until he came to a stop. Robin rolled over onto his hands and knees, coughing hard; his hands still clutching his bō-staff. 

"Still haven't learned the lesson on respect, I see," said Slade, his voice low and frightening. "But what you really need to learn is gratitude." 

Robin looked up at Slade with a furious glare. 

"Gratitude? Gratitude?" snarled Robin, coughing once in between his tirade. "For what, exactly? Tell me, Slade: what the heck am I supposed to be grateful for from my kidnapper? Huh? There's nothing to be grateful for from a kidnapper!" 

Robin bit his tongue, his eyes widening behind his mask. He really needed to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't too smart to backtalk the man who could dominate him like a bug. Robin knew that. But his rebellious soul demanded to be free. It would not allow itself to be caged by this demon of power. 

Slade lazily motioned to Robin's left with a tilt of his head towards the far wall on the opposite side of stairs. It was a door. 

"See that door there?" questioned Slade. "In there is a dark, dank, cold personal dungeon of mine. You have a choice, Robin. You can choose to be pleasant about your new arrangements, enjoying the comforts and rewards that comes with that; or you can be unpleasant, which will only bring you punishment, pain, and discomfort. That little room will be a last resort of mine, but I must warn you: my patience doesn't last long." 

Robin exhaled through his nose as he pushed himself to his feet. 

"So, what will you choose, Robin?" asked Slade, taking a step closer to him. Robin tensed, wincing slightly as small flash of pain rose from his side.