Forgotten Bonds – Chapter Five

Chapter Five
A Senior Moment

September 18th, 2008. Thursday, 9:21 pm.

Robin slammed against the floor; stars bursting in his eyes. He struggled against the hold on his arm that had it twisted behind his back. After a moment, his arm was released. Robin curled his hurting arm beneath his stomach, allowing himself to rest his sweaty face against the cold, hard concrete floor.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” demanded Slade, his voice filled with tired, yet angry exasperation. “Control your emotions!”

“I’m trying!” cried Robin in protest; pushing himself up on his knees, before standing up all the way to face Slade. He wiped a hand over his sweating brow.

He was tired – tired of it all.

Slade had to have been a drill sergeant in a previous lifetime – Robin was sure of it – or obviously in this lifetime, since the man’s training schedule was absolute agony; not to mention Wintergreen had said that they were in the army together. Robin was going crazy underneath the rigid schedule. And he thought Bruce had been bad – this was nuts!

But, while Slade was strict with his training, it was not without praise. Robin did receive compliments and praise often when he did things right – Robin could feel the man’s pleasure emanate from him when he did.

Unlike Bruce, who drilled endlessly with him without any comments on his progress besides critique. Robin had learned to understand when Bruce was satisfied with him or displeased by watching his eyes. They would seem to glitter when he did things right. When he didn’t; well… That was a bit more frightening.

Slade’s displeasure was simply a backhand across the cheek or a fiercer spar.

A week had passed and Robin was still getting used to the situation. Slade kept him on a strict schedule of physical training, sparring, and studying whatever the man chose that day in engineering. While he was scheduled for ‘free time’, Robin almost always spent most of it collapsed in bed, exhausted from the rigid physical regime Slade had him on.

Slade also had Robin start with the basics in engineering. He was also learning multiple things in computer programming. Robin held his tongue back over the fact of studying how to hack into different types of computers and mainframes. He was saving his major fight over gun education, which he was sure to come sometime. That was one fight he would not lose – he couldn’t lose. But he knew there would be a fight over it.

The man, after all, was a mercenary.

And that was the major thing Robin had learned over the past week. Slade wasn’t just any normal psychopathic criminal in Jump City. He was also a mercenary, an assassin who was contracted to kill. And his name to the criminal world?

Deathstroke the Terminator.

Of all the people that Robin had to have as his arch enemy, it had to be him. Robin had no idea that Slade had been Deathstroke. If he had known, Robin wouldn’t have touched the man with a ten foot pole. He would’ve swallowed his pride and appealed to Batman or even to the Justice League.

Deathstroke was that dangerous. The Teen Titans were complete bugs to the man – Deathstroke’s power was that well known. How arrogant Robin had been to even think that he had a chance against the man with his friends as backup – they had to have been toys, playthings to this man.

That knowledge had almost brought feared tears to his dry eyes. He wasn’t just going to be forced to be the apprentice of a common criminal – no, he was going to be forced to be the apprentice of Deathstroke, the most feared assassin, mercenary in all the world.

That chilled Robin’s very heart.

Robin had tried to investigate the entire residence for any exits during one of his hours of free time. But doors were still locked to him and he did search the main room; only to be found out and dragged back by Slade. He had to suffer through quite a few bruises after that – luckily Wintergreen seemed to have an endless supply of ice packs.

One thing Robin noticed was that Slade would often avoid directly punching or kicking him in the face. It wasn’t as if Robin never suffered attacks in that area, it was as if Slade preferred to attack other areas; his stomach or upper chest and shoulder area for example. Although, he was often slapped or backhanded; but besides the moments in sparring, it was rare that Robin experienced a bloody nose or major bruises on his face.

Slade was always filled with oddities.

“You’re not trying hard enough, Robin,” said Slade, sounding irritable. “It makes me wonder if you’re being deliberately disobedient.”

“I’m not! I swear!”

“Then, what’s the problem?”

Robin opened his mouth before clamping it shut. The man was doing it again. He was coercing Robin to spill his weakness out loud – to announce it and acknowledge it. Robin didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to tell his enemy his weakness even though it was obvious to anyone and everyone who fought with him. He hated when Slade did this to him – make him talk through the fight.

“Answer me, Robin.”

But defiance was a death wish in pain.

“I get…” Robin ducked his head, feeling his face grow warm. He hated the man for doing this to him. “I get hot headed in a fight. I don’t… I don’t think straight, then.”

“Exactly,” said Slade. Of course, he knew. The jerk, thought Robin bitterly. “This is why I keep telling you to control your emotions.”

Robin folded his arms crossly, sending a glare Slade’s way.

“I am trying, you know.”

“Obviously,” drawled Slade. “Since I have no idea what you’re feeling right now.”

Robin huffed lightly, dropping his arms to his sides while turning his head downward. Sarcasm. Gosh, he hated the man’s sarcasm. He supposed it could be funny, but he was usually the brunt of it and wasn’t ever in the mood for it. It wasn’t like he could reciprocate the sarcasm without getting slapped for the retorts.

He wanted to go home. He missed Titans Tower. He missed his friends. He missed gorging on pizza with them – even when Starfire wanted to put weird things on it. He missed Starfire’s strange alien foods. He missed crushing Beast Boy in video games. He missed sparring with Cyborg. He missed talking about books with Raven.

Oh, gosh; he missed them so bad.

Robin bit the interior of his lower lip, trying to stop them from trembling. One week. That was how long it had been. One week and he was already set to leave this man – leave him and never look back. Who cares who the heck he was; Robin wanted nothing to do with him.

Was his life going to be like this for a long time?

He hated it here. Would he ever get used to it? What he hated the most about it all was the fact that he was thinking as if he would stay. His level of hope was diminishing already. But he had lost control over his own life; his own choices. He wasn’t in control any more – that much Slade made him realize.

He had to rely on the man for everything now. Slade was controlling everything, from the small things to the large things. He wasn’t allowed outside – ever. He missed the sunlight and fresh air. The nice feeling of Slade preparing for him beforehand faded quickly once Robin came to realize that he didn’t have a choice in the little things of his life.

He was trapped.

There were even times when Slade sent him back to his room to change his clothes. The snarky thought, ‘Well, next time don’t buy it for me if you don’t want me to wear it.’ crossed his mind a thousand times, at least, during the past week.

“Robin. Robin, you aren’t paying attention any more,” said Slade, exasperated.

Robin blinked, looking back up at the man. Slade had walked up to him and was standing in front with his arms folded; staring down at him through his mask with a tired eye.

“Oh. My mind… wandered.”

“Apparently,” drawled Slade sarcastically. He shook his head once, before letting out one long annoyed sigh. “All right, take a rest. You clearly aren’t trying this evening.”

“I am, too!” cried Robin, absolutely irritated at being talked down to. “I’m doing the best I can!”

“Watch your tone,” warned Slade.

“No!” snapped Robin. “I’m sick and tired of you complaining that I’m not trying. I don’t want to be here. I hate this place. I hate you. I hate being forced to do things. I’m sick of this!”

Slade’s eye turned icily frightening. It narrowed as it stared deeply at him. Robin couldn’t suppress the shiver that went down his back. That hadn’t been so smart. His brain still didn’t care to remember that if he made this man angry, he paid for it – painfully. He took a step backwards and put up his hands nervously.

“Wa—wait…” started Robin as Slade approached with that terrible, furious look in his eye. Slade reached out and grabbed him by the underarm, turning and slamming him into the nearest wall. A hard fist struck his stomach; the wind escaped his mouth as Robin coughed viciously. Slade grabbed him by the head and shoved it back against the wall; stars popping in his eyes, clouding his vision of the masked man.

“You need to learn to think before you speak,” said Slade, leaning close to Robin’s face; his tone stern. “You have a quick tongue and a short temper.”

“You always bring out the best in me,” drawled Robin, regretting the retort right as the knee thumped into his chest. Robin dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping in pain. Slade let out a growling sigh as he stood over him.

“We can have a pleasant night or an unpleasant night, Robin. Why must you make things so difficult on yourself?”

Robin scoffed.

“And why can’t you just let me go?” retorted Robin. “Then, all this pleasantness and unpleasantness crap can just end.”

“Cute, Robin. Really, you are,” said Slade, his tone dripping with derision. Robin growled as he dragged himself up to his feet, supporting his weight with a hand on the wall. He cradled his raging stomach with his other arm. He shot Slade his strongest glare yet.

“Go to bed, Robin,” said Slade, turning his back on him. “Your snippy attitude will only get you into worse trouble since I won’t tolerate it.”

Robin opened his mouth for another snarky retort, but closed it before he allowed the damaging words to fly; the realization of what Slade was doing hitting him strongly. Slade was letting him go; letting him go to bed early. He never did that.

Well, that was weird.

Robin quickly obeyed, not wanting to give the man any reason to change his mind. He limped slightly as he walked up the stairs to the main floor. He gave Wintergreen a wordless wave goodnight, before continuing his slow walk to his room; shutting the door behind himself with a long, tired sigh.

Safety.

It was strange that this room gave him that feeling. Slade didn’t come in here often and whenever Robin was sent here, it offered a sense of safety and peace. While, of course, the man could still reach him here, it was as if the room was untainted. He was actually really thankful that Slade had sent him to bed early. He was exhausted, sore, and grumpy.

Although, Robin was sure that sleep wouldn’t help his bad attitude. A hug from Starfire would cure it, though – right away. Heck, just a hug, period. Although, Starfire’s hugs were a bit bone crushing – literally. He missed his friends and would love any interaction with any of them. One week with two adult men, after living with four overactive teens, was boring and lonely.

Wintergreen was nice and all, but he wasn’t perfectly warm. But Robin wasn’t guarded around him. He figured the man wouldn’t hit him ever – he just didn’t seem like the type. But Robin missed the warmth of his friends. Moments of them all squished together on the couch for a late night movie, playing football and wrestling for the ball in a scuffle, or just doing silly messing around – all these Robin missed dearly. He missed the human interaction; the kind, soft, playful, casual human touch.

He sure as heck wasn’t getting that, pleasantly, from Slade – not that he wanted it from the man anyway.

Robin shed his sweaty clothes; trying to decide if he should step into the shower before bed. Coming to the decision that he was just too tired tonight, he slipped on a new pair of pajamas and eased into bed with a long sigh. He closed his eyes and fell asleep within moments.

ooOOOOOoo

September 19th, 2008. Friday, 6:30 am.

Robin was in a bad mood – a terrible mood. He smashed the snooze button on his alarm clock irritably; shutting off the annoying, blaring noise that was drilling into his ears. After a quiet moment, he groaned as he rolled out of bed; his aching body protesting heavily. It was one of those mornings where he really, really hated training. He never wanted to spar ever again – his body was far too sore. He grumbled and groaned like an aged old man as he stumbled into the bathroom; slamming the door behind him.

Slade was wrong: sleep did nothing to help his bad attitude.

Shedding his clothing – leaving his mask on, of course – he stepped into the shower and ran the water as hot as he could stand it. He moaned pleasantly as the water eased some of his aches and pains. He rested his forehead against the cool tiled wall, letting the hot water rain down on his back.

His body had plenty of bruises. A lot caused in normal training while others caused by blows that were provoked by what Slade liked to call ‘bad behavior’. Like last night, for instance. Slade was certainly not gentle with him. The man definitely was an expert trainer, though – minus the beatings – but it was nonetheless torturous. Robin hadn’t ever pushed himself like this in his entire life. It was like he was training to be a professional athlete. He knew the effects would be beneficial – especially if he ever managed to get out of this terror of a place – but he was dying; completely dying.

It was interesting how quickly he settled into the routine. The fear of getting beaten up was a good motivator, of course. But he was beginning to get irritated. He was tired. All that crap talk about being freed from a burden – being a vigilante leader – was just that: talk. He didn’t feel free. He didn’t feel any less burdened by life.

Far from it – it was worse.

He finished his shower, drying himself with a fresh towel. Thankfully, the shower helped his achy muscles a bit and cleared his mind. He wrapped the towel around his waist and accomplished his morning routine of brushing his teeth and hair. And the final effect: a healthy glop of styling gel to spike back his black hair.

With a fleeting cocky lift of his eyebrows, he left the bathroom and pulled out a set of sweats from his dresser – the usual for another day of vigorous training.

Dressed, Robin left his room and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. He found Wintergreen at his usual spot in front of the stove preparing breakfast. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of bacon. Robin took a deep breath, basking in the mouthwatering smell as he came to stand next to Wintergreen.

“Morning,” said Robin, peeking into the frying pan. Wintergreen glanced at him, before looking back to his work.

“Good morning, child. How did you sleep?”

Robin grumbled lightly and shrugged. “Best as I could, I guess.”

“Still having sore muscles?” asked Wintergreen, sounding concerned.

“Course,” griped Robin. “The masked slave driver won’t give me a moment’s rest.”

“You know Slade is only doing what he thinks is best for you,” chided Wintergreen kindly.

“Oh, yeah,” drawled Robin. “Every bruise on my body is ‘best’ for me.”

“You know what I mean,” said Wintergreen with a shake of his head. “You have to admit that you are a bit rebellious and defiant. And quite disrespectful as well, I might add.”

“Oh, yes!” cried Robin dramatically. “Let me be perfectly pleasant to my captor.” Robin rolled his eyes and shot the old man a dry look. “Not.”

Wintergreen chuckled, turning the bacon over in the pan. He shook the contents a few times; the grease crackling loudly.

“You’re a bit grumpy this morning, aren’t you?”

“How could you tell?” drawled Robin again. Wintergreen sighed and turned off the fire to the stove; turning to face Robin.

“You could be a little more agreeable, you know.”

“Why should I?” demanded Robin, the irritation rising in his chest. “Eight days I’ve been here now. I want to go home. I miss my friends – I bet they’re worried sick. I don’t want to be Slade’s apprentice. Let me go already.”

“I’m afraid not. I don’t have that authority.”

Robin turned his head to the side angrily, his chest heaving once in frustration. He knew the old man meant well, but he was so infuriating sometimes. Keeping someone against their will was against the law, not to mention downright annoying.

“Look, you can’t just keep me here.”

“I think the past eight days attest otherwise,” replied Wintergreen in a dry tone.

Robin growled.

“Look, old man; you seriously can’t expect me to be happy over this!” cried Robin.

“Dear child,” started Wintergreen, an unknown, unusual glint entering his eyes. “Call me ‘old man’ again and I’ll have a senior moment all over your backside.”

“So, you can call me ‘child’, but I can’t call you ‘old man’?” retorted Robin with a lift of his eyebrow.

“You are a child.”

“Well,” started Robin, folding his arms obstinately, “you are an old man.”

Wintergreen only gave Robin an old, knowing smile, his hazel green eyes flashing, before reaching out towards his face. Robin wasn’t wary of the old man, but he should’ve been.

Wintergreen got a good hold on Robin’s left earlobe, pinching it tightly. Robin couldn’t hold back the slight wince from the pinch. His eyes widened in surprise as he was forced to turn to the side; the old man pulling him by his ear. He jumped as a very hard hand cracked over his backside, a biting sharp sting following afterward.

Wintergreen let his ear go and Robin whirled back to stare at the old man, shock evident throughout his face as he did so.

“Wha—what—you—” stammered Robin.

“I did warn you. Oh, please, child; Slade isn’t the only one around here who can keep you in line,” said Wintergreen, looking extremely amused by his reaction. Robin’s face flushed deeply. “I just prefer to use old fashioned means to do so. Now enough with this petulance; sit down and behave yourself already.”

Robin shut his gapping mouth and obeyed the man without question; dropping into a chair. The sting was slowly fading from his seat, but the mortification wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He sat, wide eyed; staring at the tablecloth in total shock.

The old man had smacked him like a five year old!

The humiliation was complete – Robin was absolutely and totally mortified. He couldn’t believe that the man had resorted to smacking him like that. There was no recovering from this. Nope. Not at all. A slap across the face would’ve been way better. At least that was border lining on abuse. But this…

Oh, gosh…

Robin squirmed in his chair, feeling his face grow unbelievably warm. The warmth spread upward to his ears. He ducked his head slightly; the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him. The humiliation was flooding through him, washing over him like a terrible tsunami. It threatened to drown him and for a brief moment the thought of getting his arm broken would’ve been preferred to the glowing humiliation he was feeling at that very moment.

Wintergreen glanced at Robin every now and then; his face showing his complete amusement. Robin never spoke or looked up as the old man made breakfast. He just couldn’t handle hearing what the old man might say. Silence was the best path to pursue at that moment.

Robin wasn’t sure if his heart could handle any more humiliation.

He couldn’t hold still, though. He felt far too uncomfortable. It wasn’t that the smack had any major lasting pain, he just couldn’t sit still; the warmth in his face was enough to make him wiggle constantly. He just wanted to bury his face into a pillow and ignore humans altogether.

What was more surprising was that he felt ashamed that he had driven the old man to such a reprimand. He had back talked Wintergreen and the old man had warned him, too. Unlike his dealings with Slade, he felt he deserved this one. Robin always felt that Slade dealt with him unjustly, not to mention the man bounced back and forth faster than a pinball machine.

Gosh, he hated being treated like a child – even though he still was one. Now that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Robin heard the footsteps before Slade walked into the kitchen. He didn’t bother to look up in fear that his face was still lit up red like a Christmas tree.

“Good morning, Robin,” said Slade, taking a seat next to him.

“Morning… sir,” mumbled Robin, his head still lowered. He wasn’t sure why he added the honorific ‘sir’, but somehow it seemed the best thing to do at the moment. He was sure it would’ve pleased Wintergreen and right now that seemed like the best thing to do to avoid any more ‘senior moments’.

Slade had been taking a newspaper from the middle of the table when Robin spoke. He stopped momentarily, seeming to be surprised by Robin’s politeness. Robin wiggled in his chair again, staring at his empty plate as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Well, it seems that your attitude has improved since last night,” said Slade in an approving tone. Robin nodded; trying very hard to stop the warmth in his face, but that just wasn’t happening.

“Yes… sir,” murmured Robin, wiggling in his chair again.

Slade stared at Robin for a moment longer before tearing his glance away to look at Wintergreen. He nodded his head once towards Robin.

“What’s up with him? Why’s he so fidgety?” asked Slade, sounding perplexed.

Oh, gosh.

Oh, crap, no.

Wintergreen was going to tell Slade what had happened. Robin ducked his head even lower – if that was possible. His face burned even hotter – if that was even possible. He was never going to live it down. The last thing he needed was for Slade to sneer at him and poke fun at him over this. Robin was going to die – death by burning humiliation.

Now that was an obituary to read.

Wintergreen glanced over at Robin; his lips pursed slightly as the edges of his mouth tried extremely hard not to break out into a broad smile. He was failing at it.

“Oh… Nothing at all,” said Wintergreen, his voice slightly sing-song like. He began to dish out breakfast onto the plates. “Isn’t that right, child?”

Robin nodded vigorously, still not looking up.

“See? A wonderful start to a new day,” said Wintergreen cheerfully, the smile spreading throughout his features.

Robin dug into his breakfast without another word; wishing to become invisible once again – anything to hide his blushing face. Slade merely shrugged off the oddity and began to eat his own breakfast through an open compartment in his mask. Robin didn’t even sneak glances up at the man like he usually did when the man ate. The only facial feature he had been able to figure out during meals was the white goatee that surrounded his mouth.

It was odd. The hair was completely pure white – not a grey hair in the midst of them. Yet Wintergreen’s white hair was littered with them. There was no way Slade was older than Wintergreen. Slade’s voice didn’t have that aged sound that Wintergreen’s did, not to mention the fact that Slade was in perfect shape.

Very strange indeed.

Robin knew that Slade would never remove his mask – not for a very long time, at least. It was tempting to try to rip that mask right off the man’s face, but Robin would never cross that line. He didn’t want the man to do the same to him. Slade could’ve removed Robin’s mask off at any moment – Robin knew and understood that all too well. If the man wanted it off, it would’ve been off. There was just no way to defy an order from Slade no matter hard he tried. When Slade wanted something done, he had to do it – or else.

Which made Robin terribly curious and nervous.

Why didn’t Slade demand that Robin take off his mask? It would be just like the man to degrade him in such a way – taking away his identity as Robin and forcing the one he wanted on him as his ‘apprentice’. Was it because he already knew Robin’s true identity? He couldn’t suppress the shiver that went down his back at the thought.

If he didn’t know, then why not just rip it away?

But no matter how often Robin tried to figure out Slade, he just couldn’t. The man was too much of an enigma. There was just no understanding his thinking or his logic. He knew the man was highly intelligent – all the studying Robin was being forced through proved that much. Slade knew a lot about electronics and computers, far more than Robin knew was possible.

No wonder the man sent out so many robots to do his dirty work – he could easily build them all. Why go out and do it on his own when his evil little robot army could do it just as well?

ooOOOOOoo

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