Nobody's P.O.V

To say the Batclan was annoyed was an understatement.  Batman had not a single clue as to who the hell that masked man was, but he was hellbent on finding out. That man took his son, took out the team, and hurt his other son's. Batman was peeved. All the criminals in Gotham knew that too. Even the Clown Prince was straying from his normal antic's.

Everyone knew, if Batman was mad, you should run. But three more Bat's? Lock your doors, get unhackable motion sensors, close your windows and don't do anything wrong. Don't even litter. Word had got out that the Batfamily was pissed, and only the most stupid of thugs dared do anything. Those stupid reckless thugs were sent to prison in body casts. Or in Red Hood's case, stitches and bandages. He just generally shot people and beat them shitless. Same for Nightwing, except for the fact he decided to use his sword, and Batman, - anyone really was not there to stop him.

Let's just say, it took a lot of willpower for those two to not kill anyone.

Batman and Red Hood had both been working on the case for a week. But if you added the time they were hospitalized, it'd make a month.

Robin had been in Deathstroke's clutches for over a month now. The Batfamily, - No, the entire League, was not happy.

The team had eventually recovered, but the fact that nanobots were running through their system was still unknown to them. Batman had looked at the video of what happened before and after Deathstroke had arrived. He had seen Robin thrown into a car, and tracked the car as it drove off somewhere, he had seen Robin suddenly throw himself out the car to escape. But what confused him and everybody else, was Robin walking back into the car with a defeated look etched on his face. Like he had completely lost hope.

Like he had fallen into despair. Batman also took note of the slight trickle of blood running down his forehead. He wasn't stupid, it was most likely caused in some sort of fight. He had pieced together what he could. Robin had tried to escape Slade and failed, and when he realized he had nowhere to go, he tried to take Slade on but failed. He most likely made some sort of deal with him and Slade had won. - Clearly.

But the question was, What kind of deal did he make? Why did he look so defeated? What was that signal he made with his hands when Slade wasn't looking? What did he say before he was beamed away?

Batman smiled slightly. Despite what was happening, his son had still made an attempt to reach out to him. He knew he could do nothing, so he left clues that could help the league find him. Even when he looked like he had fallen into despair, he still had a little hope left. Hope that someone would see his signal, and hear his cry for help and reach out to him.

Batman wasn't one to disappoint. He was going to find his soon. He had heard his son calling out for him in his desperate time of need. He was going to save him. Some way or another. The league was going to bring that masked man in. Batman was going to rescue his son. Deathstroke was going to be brought to Justice. Once Batman solved the mystery as to what clues his little bird left him, he'd be a couple more steps closer to finding his bird.

There was still hope left. There was still that extinguishable light that Robin had. Not even despair could extinguish that light.

But Batman and everyone else who had met Slade knew that when they found Robin the chance he would be scarred forever would be at a high percent of 98%. They'd be lucky if he even managed to crack one of those goofy grins again. They all knew the outcome of this.

A Broken Robin.

Robin's P.O.V

One month. One freaking whole month. Well, actually a little over that. But still! A whole month has passed since I've been with Slade. I can't deny a lot has happened over that time. I've had less "outbursts of anger" as Slade calls them. I've tried to keep my anger in check, not liking the concept of dark rooms and chains. Or being strapped down and tortured after pushing Slade past his breaking point. No, legitimately.  I pushed him. I managed to kick him in the face, a big crack going down his mask, and steal the remote that Slade had, ensuring he could not activate the nanobots in my friend's and family's bloodstream.

Bad side? I had no idea what to do with it.  I had no where to go, and I was trapped with a pissed off Slade who was ready to murder me. If it wasn't for the fact that he needed me alive, I'd be dead. That didn't stop the various ways of torture he had in store for me. It was that memory that kept me in line most of the time. I think I'd rather be tortured by Joker. That's saying something since I know how Jason was tortured and killed by Joker.

Slade was curious to as to the limit of the human pain receptors. So he had decided to see if there was a limit. I had certainly met my limit, but Slade wasn't finished. He wanted to see the full potential of pain. My throat was sore for days on end, and for the first few, I couldn't even speak. Not that I wanted to. I also couldn't move as it was psychically impossible for me to do so. Yes, it was that bad. Bleeding out seems extremely fun at the time. Why? Because it sounded less painful.

I think you get my point.

Currently, Slade was teaching me how to use guns. In other words, how to kill people. Slade insists on calling me "Renegade" but I refused that. He also insisted I called him "Master" in which I also refused. That's basically how I got into that fight with him anyways. He says I'll come around eventually.

I doubt that.

"Shoot the gun." Slade ordered.

"No! I'm not an idiot, I know exactly why your trying to teach me how to use guns!" I argued. Jason had already taught me how to use guns, but that was different. He was teaching me because, 1. I had nothing better to do.

2. He was teaching me in case I ever needed to learn how to, not because he was most likely going to order me to kill people.

"Shoot the gun, Rene-"

"Don't call me that!" I shouted. "I'm not a traitor!" I turned to Slade to glare at him, but avoided eye contact. Not going to lie, the 'torture session' had pretty much taught me to never look into the eye's of a madman. Or anyone really. My trust will be betrayed if I look people in the eye. It shows my true emotions even if I try to hide it. Maybe that's why Batman always knew why I was lying. Whenever he looked me in the eye he knew I was lying, but If I put up a strong font and mask the way I feel no one will know how I truly feel. Not even me. So far, I had managed to find a way to look like I was looking in someone's eyes, but in reality wasn't. I had also found a way to cloud the way my eyes looked, although this usually resulted in my eyes looking dull and lifeless. But that's pretty much how I felt anyways.

"Are you sure about that?" Slade asked.

"What?"

"Are you sure your truly not a traitor?" He explained.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'd be aware if I was betraying everything I've ever known."

"Perhaps you already have betrayed everything you've ever known."

"How?"

Slade did not answer my question. After some silence, he eventually told me to shoot again.

"Shoot the gun."

"No."

"Shoot."

"No."

"Perhaps it'll just take a little more convincing..." Slade mused. My eyes widened, and I looked to the ground, my head bowed in shame.

"I'm not going to shoot."

"Believe me, you are."

"I'm not."

"It's not like your killing anyone." Slade stated.

"To you maybe. But to me, it's still like I'm getting ready to do so."

"But you are getting ready to kill people." My eyes widened.

"I won't kill anyone."

"Maybe not now, but eventually you will."

"No." I spoke louder.

"Robin, shoot."

"No." I defied. Slade's patience was running thin. I knew that. I was entering dangerous territory. 

"Richard." Slade warned, his voice showing his impatience. My body began to shake as I recalled the pain I was forced through. I closed my eyes. The electricity coursing through my body, the serum he injected into me to increase the way my body handled the pain, making it seven times worse. The dry blood smothered across me. The sound of my blood dripping to the floor, -

"Richard. Shoot now!" Slade shouted. My shaking grew more violent. No...

"Renegade! Shoot that gun right now!" Slade's voiced boomed. My eyes snapped open, and my arm shot up, pressing the trigger four times. I wasn't facing the stone mannequin, but I had my side to it. My breath hitched in my throat, as I looked at where I had shot. All the bullets were square on. One in the heart, one in the center of the head, and two in the throat. My shaking increased as I looked at it from the corner of my eye.

The head rolled to the floor, not being able to support itself.

If that was a real person...

If that had been a real person...

I would have killed them...

I didn't even look, and my aim was straight.

"Good, Renegade." Slade purred. I said nothing.

If that had been a real person...

I felt sick to my stomach.

"Perhaps it would be best if we skipped training for a while. I am very proud of today's progress. You may return to your room." Slade instructed. I handed the gun to him, a numb feeling coursing through my body. I turned around and walked away.

"Get some rest, Renegade." I stopped. A tear escaped my eye. He was right. I was a traitor. I abandoned my own morals, just because I was scared. If that had been a real person...

They would be dead... I would have killed someone.

But frankly, I'm not sure what's scarier.

The fact that I'm now an official traitor, or the fact that I already had the ability to shoot something like that without even looking.

Just what have I become?