Titans: Rise of Talon

No Connection

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13:47 SST
The Island
December 2nd
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     "Your technique has improved, but it is far from perfect. Again," Slade commanded, and Richard grit his teeth in frustration.

   He hated training with Slade. He wasn't afraid of the workout; that wasn't the problem. He didn't even mind that much when they would get into actual fights mid-spar.

   No, it was just the way Slade spoke when he gave instructions. His smooth voice had a nagging habit of getting under Richard's skin in a way no one had ever accomplished. The teasing. The sarcasm. He could always tell when Slade was enjoying himself. But the worst part about training was the compliments.

   Batman had been a hard teacher. There was never any doubt about that, and praise from the man was almost nonexistent. If he failed to do something correctly, he was forced to repeat it until he couldn't get it wrong, and then they would just move on. Never a "good job" or "well done." There was never an acknowledgement of when he improved.

   Richard always understood that, though. In Gotham, one wrong move could be his last, and a false sense of confidence was the quickest way to the Joker's crowbar. Perfection was expected, and he had learned how to bear the burden of Bruce's high standards. No matter how hard the mental or emotional strain it put on him, he would always know the reason why. His father was just trying to look out for him the only way he knew how, and he understood that.

    Which was why it always threw him for a loop whenever Slade congratulated him on getting something right. Even back during his first apprenticeship, Richard was never sure how to respond. Well, that wasn't true. At the time, he had been so angry, so desperate to protect his friends, that even the slightest praise from the man was like a challenge to a duel.

   Richard couldn't stand doing something his captor approved of, even if it was just nailing a specific combination of moves. He contemplated multiple times the idea of messing up on purpose, but he quickly thought better of it. His chances of rescue were slimmer than last time, and he didn't want to be put through more pain than necessary. He was saving all of his fight for the inevitable gun education.

   Slade was a mercenary and an assassin. Robin had long figured out that as long as he was trapped under the man's tutelage, guns would soon be a topic of discussion. It was just a matter of when.

     Richard began to spar with his "teacher" once again, following through the moves he had been shown with similar determination that he once had under Batman. Perfection was always expected, and that wasn't something anyone could just drill out. This time, he managed to complete the sequence correctly, and a gleam of pride entered Slade's cool gray eye.

    "Well done. You always were a fast learner."

  Richard fought the urge to glow at the man's acknowledgement. Praise was such a rare thing to him, but that didn't mean he would accept it from his enemy. He wasn't that desperate.

   Eager master and reluctant apprentice returned to their starting positions in the middle of a sparring ring outlined in white. Richard could feel beads of sweat floating down the side of his face from the hot sun bearing down on the outer training yard.

         It was still hard for him to tell where he was at specifically, but he had narrowed it down since stepping outside. The already hot and humid atmosphere indicated somewhere near the equator or just south of it. The strong smell of the sea hinted they were somewhere close to an ocean, and his improved hearing added to that fact. A glance up at the men patrolling the walls surrounding the compound, Richard found that many of them were of an Asian heritage, which led him to think that he was most likely somewhere in the Pacific area.