Too Little, Too Late (Short Story)

Too Little Too Late Part I

So, I originally started writing this for the COC event, but thought it might be a bit much for the smaller readers out there (especially Part 3) so o decided to just work on it a bit longer.

    ANYWAY, I hope everyone enjoys my VERY DARK AND DEPRESSING short story.

(I seriously think there is something wrong with me for conjuring up this beast filled with feels ・ω・)

     Mechanisms and machines hard at work sounded all around them. The constant noise was slightly numbing, yet also very distracting.
    Two figures stood very still in the room that was coated in darkness. But they were not the only ones who were present. However, they were the only ones who remained alive.
    Four forms lay still on the cold, metal floor. Two young women, and two young men. One of the girls was very tan, had bright, almost strawberry coloured hair, and a vibrant purple uniform that strongly resembled that of a cheerleaders. The other girl was very pale, and had dark, purple hair with a long, dark cloak to match.
    The third form on the floor was a man who was half man, half robot, with dark skin and very muscular. The other boy who lay next to him was green, and much smaller and leaner than the one beside him.
    All of them lay lifeless on the floor. And the two figures who remained alive had opposite reactions to the teens who lay dead on the ground, their futures flickering into nothingness.
    One of the people standing was filled with pleasure. He had killed the one thing that stood between him and his apprentice, and now, hopefully the young boy would cooperate. It may take some time and a slight push in the right direction, but he was sure he had just ensured himself a loyal protègè to pass his knowledge.
    Or, at the very least, taken a major step to getting the teen to that point.
    The other figure stood in shock. He had yet to comprehend what had just transpired in the lair of his greatest enemy. All he could do at the moment was stare at the lifeless bodies of his teammates, his friends, and try to understand that they were gone.
    They would never laugh together again. Never fight together. Never hang out. Never have food fights. And never again would Robin, the Boy Wonder of Gotham, gaze into the eyes of the girl he loved more than anything.
    He would never hear Beast Boy and Raven argue about some small action. Never help Cyborg fix the T-Car or their jet. Robin would never again feel Starfires hand in his, or her scent that seemed to be only her.
    Then, as if a wave suddenly crashed into him, the ebony crumbled to the ground, landing on his knees in front of his friends. A tear escaped from his mask, and soon a sob wretched itself from his chest. 
    Slade took immense pleasure in watching his apprentice suffer in this way. He actually found it slightly curious. The mercenary had lost all of his empathy and care for others long ago, and he briefly wondered if he had reacted the same way when he first watched someone die. He could have, as Slade didn't remember feeble moments such as that, but he sincerely doubted that he cried.
    While Slade watched Robin sob, the boys mind finally pieced it together that they were dead. And worst of all, he knew he could have done something to stop it.
    He could have fought Slade harder. He could have sacraficed himself. He could have found an antidote during his time with the mercenary and given it to the Titans. At the very least, Robin could have warned his friends about the imminent danger they were in. 
    Instead of being the hero, all he did to save his friends was stand there, all but groveling at the feet of his nemesis, while one eye stared down at him in satisfaction.
    But now they were gone, and he just stood there and watched it happen while he could have done something to prevent it. Just like when his parents were murdered. 
    He couldn't save them. And he couldn't save his friends either.
    He was a hero, wasn't he? If that were true, then why do the people around him always end up dead? He was supposed to protect the public, but how can he do that if he can't even protect the ones closest to him?
Robins sobs became more violent, and he brought his hands to his face in a feeble attempt to hide his tears. His chest soon became heavy, both with the pain of crying and something more. It was almost like a emptiness overwhelmed him, and was weighing him down.
This feeling enveloped the ebony as he continued to break down, the man standing mere yards away becoming slightly annoyed with his seemingly endless sobbing. But he was a patient man, and would wait until the boy was at least coherent before he spoke a word.
And after what felt like hours of just sitting there, grieving his lost friends, Robin finally calmed down, even if he was still crying silently. His eyes were bloodshot behind his mask and his tears left a clearly visible track down his face.
Then, as if Slade finally decided that his apprentice had enough time to grieve, the one eyed man strode over to Robin in confidence.
Once fully behind the young boy at his feet, he simply gazed down at him with a analytical glance. He needed to plan his words carefully. The mercenary needed to have the right affect on Robin, and if he uttered a single word that was out of place, he would lose that advantage.
With a slight nod that only the most vigilant could notice, he decided how to act. Placing what he thought to be a comforting hand on the boys shoulder, he began to speak.
"You knew that this would happen, Robin. I warned you, yet you did not listen. Take this as a lesson."
Slade slowly walked around Robin, as a predator would prey. Stopping in front of him, the man knelt down and gently placed two of his fingers under the boys chin, lifting it so they would be facing each other.
Robin uncovered his face at this action, and looked into the eye of the man who he despised. But now, he felt fear and anxiousness overwhelm him as he gazed into the man's single eye.
"Remember this day, Robin. And never forget what happened here, as the same thing will happen to your other loved ones if you ever disobey me again."
With this, he swiftly stood up and paced over to the four dead teens on the floor. Facing away from the grieving boy he looked at the corpses in satisfaction and amusement. Amusement from the thought that the Teen Titans had a fleeting hope that they could have actually defeated him. Satisfaction at the thought he just got rid of four annoying bugs at once, while also gaining himself an apprentice.
"Go and rest now, apprentice. I have work to do, and soon, so will you."
Numbly, without thinking, Robin got up from his position on the floor and followed Slade's order. Normally, Robin would rebute or grumble in protest, but he was just too exhausted. It seemed that with the death of his friends, he was currently just an empty shell. He didn't find any drive to rebel against the man who ruined his life, but instead felt compelled to listen to him.
Robin immediately thought that he had finally succumbed to Slade. Which, in a way, was true.
As Robin walked out of the room, he could almost physically feel his fight draining from him. He no longer felt as if he needed to go against what Slade said, and a large part of him agreed with this.
The fire inside of the bird had been doused, and only a miracle would be able to spark it once again.