What if Robin stays Slade's apprentice? What if the Titans don't find the nano-bugs?
Robin is alone. No one can save him from the situation he's in. It's up to him to somehow make contact with the Titans, or better still... Batman.
Robin knows that catchphrase, or at least a version of it.
"You're... what?"
'Windstorm' puffs out his chest, his grin smoothing into something self-satisfied.
"Need me to slow it down for you?"
The realisation sets in. A hero— a real hero— has infiltrated the H.I.V.E. For a moment, joy and relief rush through him, betrayed by the beginnings of a hopeful smile. A burden is finally lifted. For a moment, Robin feels less alone.
But he forgets himself.
The tension in his chest is the first reminder that something is wrong. Next is the mask tugging at his skin. But most crucially, it's the chest plate gleaming innocently on the shelf. What's the range on that thing?
It all comes crashing back.
A hero, here. Does Slade know? If he does, Robin has a part to play. If he doesn't, then Robin has to make sure he won't find out. Either way, his course of action remains the same. Robin steels himself.
Windstorm pipes up when Robin doesn't immediately answer. "Are you catching up? I said I'm—"
But before he can finish, Robin surges forward. He forces him out of the room and pins him to the opposite hallway wall. Robin keeps the pressure of his arm to Windstorm's chest minimal, but it still shocks the speedster into silence. Captivated by his captor, Robin has the boy's full attention when he hisses "you can't say stuff like that."
"Okay... little paranoid, but I get it." Windstorm supplies, shrugging in mock nonchalance.
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"I already checked, and everyone on this floor's asleep. Despite your tantrum. Plus," he points to the ceiling victoriously, "no cameras."
That's what you think. Robin grumbles to himself, so aware of the spot between his eyes that he can practically see it.
"Listen to me," Robin says in the lightest whisper he can manage, "trust me when I say we are still being monitored."
"Did you check inside the walls?" Windstorm asks rhetorically, "Because I did. Trust me when I say I know this place in and out."
Robin chews on his lower lip to bite back a retort. He takes a slow breath in through his nose, summoning all of his remaining patience. He has to get through to him, for both their sakes.
"Windstorm." He starts seriously, but the speedster interrupts.
"Actually, it's—"
"No, Windstorm." Robin repeats with emphasis. "I don't want to know your name. I don't want to know why you're here. I want you to stay away from me."
"But, why?" Windstorm asks, genuine confusion and hurt in his tone. "If it's because of your mission, why can't we work together?"
"Because— because you're not good enough," Robin finalises. "You're impulsive, arrogant, and lack discipline."
The words seem to echo around them. Windstorm stares down at Robin in astonishment, brow furrowed and gaze distracted by his own racing thoughts. Guilt slackens Robin's hold on the speedster, but his words are true in more ways than one. A hero (or an incompetent villain) wouldn't qualify for Slade's roster of allies, and based on their interactions, this one in particular would likely do more harm than good in Robin's ultimate plan of escape. Whether Slade is already aware of Windstorm's true identity or not, the best Robin can do for the boy is keep him off of Slade's radar.
Judging by his frown, Windstorm finally seems to have finished digesting the insult.
"Rude." He states simply, and Robin admires the teen's hold on his emotions. His exaggerated pout almost makes Robin forget the real hurt he'd seen on his face a moment before.
"I'm sorry," Robin admits, also showing only as much sincerity as he can get away with, "but I work for Slade."
Windstorm snaps to attention, his mouth rounded in a silent oh. Robin is momentarily reassured that the line implied all that it needed to, but to his horror, it doesn't have the impact he was hoping for. Windstorm lets out a huff of laughter, pushing Robin's arm away.
"Oh, sure, Slade." He drawls unseriously, "We can't team up because Slade says so."
Robin tenses up at the casual disregard of his jailer.
"You don't get it—"
"No, no, I do," Windstorm relents, raising his hands "He's pretty tough. Intimidating guy, one glare can shake you to the core."
Robin straightens, not sure if he'd heard right.
"You... met him?" He asks.
"Uh-huh."
"Slade." Robin clarifies.
"Slade." Windstorm mimics.
The speedster stretches, reaching up with his arms and turning his neck to the side. "Fine, whatever. We can keep doing code names if it makes the big guy happy."
Robin narrows his eyes at the suspicious victory. "And you'll stay away?"
Windstorm laughs, taking a dramatic step back.
"This far enough?"
Robin crosses his arms. "No."
Windstorm shimmies back a few steps. "How about now?"
This is getting old fast. Robin sighs and trudges back to his room as Windstorm takes a few backward hops and calls "How about here?"
He doesn't deign that with a response. He drops onto his bed, perturbed yet again by Windstorm's unpredictable antics. As he tries to work through the events of the night, Windstorm creeps past his open doorway.
"My room's actually this way." He whispers, and Robin levels him with a deadpan stare. He leans forward and pushes the button by the entrance, and the steel double doors slide shut, plunging him into darkness. He lets out a weary breath and lays down, closing his eyes in a forced attempt to relax.
A playful, rhythmic knocking starts up on the wall next to his head, and Robin's eyes snap open. He hits the button and the doors slide away, but the hallway appears empty. He gets up and takes a few steps out, when he sees the doors of the room next to his are open. Windstorm waves at him from his seat on his own bed. They're neighbours.
Robin facepalms.
*** Note: Chapters 1-6 now have art too! Go see if you haven't yet!
