Regressing For The Enemy

Chapter 12

    There, laid out neat and square were a set of orange and black onsies, plain black overalls and white pull ups. Dropping to his knees, Robin's face went from empty and ghostly white, to furrowed, frustrated, flustered and bright red-ish pink. Of course, Slade had mentioned Robin's 'little hobbies' but Dick didn't know this  is what he meant! Of course it was one thing to have knowledge about the subject and another thing to truly expect Dick to regress here. Here? What was Slade expecting? Did he truly think that upon agreeing to be his apprentice, Dick would suddenly magically transform into this young, submissively loyal moldable piece of clay that would bend to his every will and need? Was he truly that ignorant within his own egotistical mania, Slade truly surmised Robin would instantly fall into a Stockholm pipe dream upon finding a clean place to sleep and clothes that fit his current sizing requirements? Robin scoffed aloud. No. His obedience would not be bout with a few simple onsies and pacifiers. No. Flipping. Way. 

    Sliding the fifth drawer shut, Robin creeped forward, testing the latch on the bedroom door, to find it still unlocked, much to Dick's chagrin. Already, he had his fill of this room, and was ready to try exploring the remaining bedroom. Keeping one hand on the handle steady, the other hand gently pushed against the door, to prevent any creaking noises. Slowly opening the door, Dick was able to spot the shadow of a man standing in the kitchen. A pleasant humming sound filled the air, indicating this was, in fact, not Slade. "Wintergreen..." Dick whispered to no one in particular, creeping along the wall before testing the metal door knob of his supposed second bedroom. Finding it unlocked, Robin slipped in, gently shutting the door behind him. 

    Instantly, tens of things were calling Dick's attention, upon stepping into the bedroom. The walls were a light baby blue, with white clouds. The white clouds were clearing hand painted, as each one differed slightly from one another. In the corner of the room there was an adult sized crib and changing table. Both of them had to have been custom made considering the size and rarity of such an item. In the middle of the floor, there was a fluffy indigo blue rug, and off to the side, there was an oak treasure chest shaped toy box. Mentally picking his jaw up off the ground, Dick eerily snuck forward, afraid that at any moment the floor would give in from beneath him. Was this a trap? Did Slade really design an entire age regression centered room for him? Reaching out outstretched fingers, Dick gingerly touched the treasure chest toy box before opening the lid to reveal the contents below. Inside the toy box laid the circus themed baby blanket his mother gifted him and a new set of stuffies, including a deer, a dinosaur, a puppy dog and a cow. 

    Suddenly, a knocking sound came from the opposite side of the room. Dick jumped, turning around to see a side door with a very smug looking Slade in it. "Enjoying yourself? I see you found your secondary bedroom." Slade spoke with a velvety smooth lilt. "I don't know what the hell you think you're playing at, Wilson, but I can promise you, I'm going to get to the bottom of it." Completely glossing over Robin, Slade waved his hand lazily. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm sure." Walking forward, as Slade neared, Dick unconsciously took a few steps backward. "I do hope you'll 'get to the bottom' of your plate, as dinner is currently being served as we speak." Dick crouched, similar to a cornered animal, considering his chances of making it to the door with Slade standing in the way. "Yes ... sir ." Robin added on the last part as an after thought. It seemed to work, as Slade's eyebrows lifted slightly in approval. 

    Turning his back to Robin, Slade made the first move by confidently strutting into the kitchen. Following equivocally, Robin made a mental note at the lack of metal silverware. Instead, in their place, there were all plastic knives, forks, plates and cups. Plasticware, if you will. Probably to prevent a future stabbing. Set up at the front of the table sat an older white haired gentleman, his hands folded in concentration. Silently reaching for a chair at the opposite side of the kitchen table, Dick watched as the old man unexpectedly rose, recognition flashing in his folded eyes. "You must be Richard!" The older man smiled. "And you must be Wintergreen." Receiving a death glare from Slade, Robin quickly revised his statement. "Mister- Mister Wintergreen." Shakily thrusting his hand forward for a hand shake, Dick was caught off guard when Mr. Wintergreen simply turned his hand over, bringing it to the light, examining it closely. "Uh- erm-" "Such good color you have." Wintergreen hummed, to no one in particular. "Uhm, thank you?" Sitting down with a metallic thud, Slade quietly observed the scene between the two. Dropping Robin's hand, Mr. Wintergreen turned his attention to Slade. "Slade, you simply must try the meatballs. They're a family recipe." Sitting down at the table, both Slade and Wintergreen seemed to humble in a sort of domesticity that made Robin's skin crawl. 

    Both men began quietly eating, exchanging short meaningless words back and forth. "The weather has been terrible lately." "Not today." "Really? I heard it's supposed to be in the 90's all next week." It both confused Robin and drove him absolutely mad. Sitting down, Robin reluctantly shared a glance between the two. "Do I really have to eat this?" "If you want to keep your friends breathing, you will." "Slade!" Wintergreen frowned, lightly slapping Slade's arm. "You mustn't say these sort of things at the dinner table. You must be kinder to the child. After all, how would you feel if you were offered food in a new and unfamiliar place?" Wintergreen respectfully lectured. "I agree with him." Robin lightly jested. Unfortunately, neither man seemed to find much comedy in the statement. "And you." Wintergreen turned his attention to Robin. "You will eat no less than what I have put on your plate. And if you want more, there is some noodles, sauce and spair meatballs on the stove. You will certainly have a long day tomorrow, and I don't want you fainting from lack of carbs on the job." Dick didn't like the sound of that.