Of Birds and Jokers

Chapter 11

    Sorry about the long wait AGAIN, my friends are just really into Halloween (including me) and we basically take the whole month to plan and add school work plus extra curriculars on top of that and you don't get a lot of time to write. And when you DO get time, all you want to do is literally nothing.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this longer-than-usual chapter!

    It felt good to train again. Training gave Robin something to do, to take his mind off of everything that plagued him in this new world. The burning that encompassed his entire body was familiar, and he knew that nothing would ever change that, at least.
Slade was also a pretty good sparring partner, as was being shown at the moment. And while Robin would never personally start being a mercenary, it was very interesting to learn from one. Slade seemed to know that Robin would never follow in his footsteps, too, which lifted a large weight off of the teens shoulders.
Teaching Robin new fighting techniques was only a part of Slade's tutelage. Ever since Robin (embarrassingly) broke down in front of the man those two weeks ago, Slade had started to teach him about different chemicals, weapons, and even some new computer software that didn't exist in Robin's own world.
One of the more useful tools he learned how to make was a Black Metsubushi Egg, a weapon primarily used by ninjas in the past. Slade explained that these ninjas would fill hollowed out eggs with blinding substances, whether that be pepper, glass, or even blood in some cases. It wasn't lethal, but they could be made very easily and weighed almost nothing.
Robin knew that once he parted ways with Slade, these items would become extremely useful as he was without his usual tools.
Yet, the idea of parting with Slade was one Robin struggled with. While he knew that Slade wanted him to stay at his Haunt, he also knew that it would be a very big risk to stay in one place for too long. Even staying at the hospital as long as he did was dangerous.
The Joker was unpredictable, insane, and extremely dangerous. That's what makes him so clever. And staying in one place, even if it was Deathstroke's hideout, would paint a target on his back.
But Slade was the only one who Robin could really connect with. Clark was a familiar face with no memories connected, and Burns was a friend, but not someone who could really help Robin even if he wanted to.
Slade, however, had resources. The man knows what Robin's life is like, and knows that he isn't just a regular teen (even if he doesn't know to what extent). It feels like he's known the mercenary all his life.
Robin hasn't found the right way to tell Slade he's from an alternate world, though. One where the Deathstroke he knows kills children without batting an eye.
Robin didn't have to tell him everything, of course, but why would the man ever believe him if he tried telling the truth? The truth still sounded insane to Robin, who was the one stuck in this mess.
But Robin made a vow shortly after his panic attack to tell Slade about his situation. If the man somehow believed him, or at the very least didn't kick him out onto the streets or give him to Luthor like he was supposed to do, then Slade was the best option for figuring out how to get home. And, if he agreed, maybe Slade could help Robin take down the Joker, too.
    The teen was so engrossed in his thoughts that he made a sloppy right hook, leaving his side completely open. The man in front of him immediately took advantage, sending a fist straight into Robin's right side.
    Another one of Slade's training methods; Never pull your punches.
    Robin stumbled to the side, tripping over his own feet in a haste to recover and get his mind back to the spar. He managed to regain his balance, but not quick enough to dodge the foot heading straight for his legs. With a yelp the teen started plummeting backwards towards the mat, but pulled his hands behind his head at the last second.
    Robin shifted his center of gravity, legs tucking in towards his chest, then pushed back with his arms. His legs went over his head, and before he knew it he was back on his feet facing the man once again.
    "That was incredibly sloppy, Robin. Your focus was not on the fight at hand." Slade critiqued, raising a single, white eyebrow.
    Robin only sighed, keeping his defense position. "Yeah, I know. Sorry."
    There was a pause, and then Slade shifted out of his own offensive stance, standing straight with his arms crossed.
    "I believe that's enough sparring for today. Obviously your mind is not all here, as you did not make any kind of snippy remark." Robin felt his ears redden at the comment, but simply crossed his arms with a huff. He noted with a bit of disgust that the red t-shirt he had been wearing was completely soaked, and even sweatpants were wet with sweat.
    The room was silent for a moment. Robin heard Slade shift slightly, and glanced towards the man to see a calculating look being directed towards him. The teen countered it with a raised eyebrow of his own, and Slade cleared his throat.
    "Would you mind telling me exactly what that small kind of yours was thinking about when it dragged us away from a previously entertaining sparring match?"
Robin gulped. He knew that there was no better time than this. Slade was asking, and Robin sure had enough information to tell him.
The teen opened his mouth, let a small choked sound escape, then closed it once again. He saw Slade narrow his eyes, but the man didn't say anything and was waiting patiently for Robin to continue.
Robin took a deep breath, mind supposedly made up, and opened his mouth to speak again.
He felt his palms sweating, which was unusual in itself. Robin usually only got this nervous around Alfred when the older man was confronting him. Not even when being reprimanded by Batman did he feel nerves such as this.
It was also trained into him. Robin had been learning from the very beginning how to not only physically beat your opponent, but mentally, too. The teen couldn't keep track of how many excersise's he had done over the years to make sure he kept a cool demeanour while out in the field.
Something was seriously wrong with him. Why was all the years of grueling mental training suddenly flying out the window? Was it just the man's presence that shook Robin up?
But he broke down in that alley, before he met Slade. What was going on?
Slade cleared his throat. "I believe you will catch flies if you leave your mouth open."
Robin's thought process cut off abruptly as he realized that, yes, he had been keeping his mouth open for at least twenty seconds. His mouth snapped shut with a click of teeth and the reddening of his ears.
Another uncanny gift that Slade had was finding a multitude of ways in which to continuously embarrass Robin.
The bird mentally shook his head, then brought his eyes back to Slade's. The man was still waiting for an answer, eyebrow raised expectantly.
No time to really think anymore.
"It's...complicated." Robin started, the anxiety trying to well up in his chest and make him shut his mouth. The teen simply grit his teeth and pushed it down as hard as he could.
Slade twirled his hand around, patiently waiting for Robin to continue.
Robin took another deep breath, opened his mouth, ready to finally tell someone what he had been through-
Then the lights abruptly shut off. Less than a second later orange lights dimly lit the room, and what sounded like a tornado siren echoed through the training room.
Robin's mind immediately focused on everything around him, and an unexplained rush of adrenaline surged through him. Slade looked the same way, figure tense as his eye narrowed as he scanned the room.
The man then snapped his head in Robin's direction, looking at him for a moment before turning.
"Follow me." Slade roughly called back, and Robin was quickly on his heels as they briskly walked out of the room.
The hallways were treated with the same shrill alarm and lights, casting shadows around every corner they took.
"What's happening?" Robin asked, more adrenaline pumping through him when the lights started flashing and Slade changed his pace to a jog.
"Something tripped the perimeter sensors." was Slade's short response as the two finally made it to the man's destination; the Central Control Area.
    Robin stopped walking at that sentence as Slade continued to the three screen supercomputer. He sat at the edge of the black, throne-like chair and his fingers flew across the keyboard.
    While Slade did that Robin's mind was reeling. All of this fuss was over someone tripping a perimeter sensor? This commotion could be something as simple as a woman walking a dog, and he made sure Slade knew how absurd this was.
    Slade spared a glare in Robin's direction behind the chair before directing his eye back to the screen.
    "If you must know, the alarm is only raised when the sensors pick up any anomalies that normal citizens certainly do not have. An example is right now, where it seems the Bat and his new friend made a decently large crater using an explosive. I don't believe any sane person would be walking around with an explosive."
    Robin stopped breathing all together. Slade had just given him a boatload of information, whether the man knew it or not.
Batman was here. Bruce was here. Most likely close enough to communicate with.
    And if Batman was here, then he must still be in Gotham. Slade really didn't move him out of the city, and Robin found himself slightly relieved. Even if this Gotham wasn't his own in any way, it was the familiarity that he craved.
The mercenary had also given him information that his Haunt was not simply in the middle of nowhere or underground. It was in a place that was close enough to still be a part of civilian life, yet still out of the way.
Based on the unoriginal mindset of most villains, Robin would guess he was either in an abandoned warehouse or a building in some kind of shipping yard. But based on the fact Robin couldn't smell anything that smelled like the ocean, his best bet was abandoned warehouse.
So very typical. And Deathstroke was supposed to be one of the smartest people alive?
Robin closed in on the mercenary on the chair, placing his left hand on the large backrest.
He couldn't help but be impressed by Slade's skills with technology. His hands were moving like blurs, and Slade's lone eye raked over the lines of code and information that was being relayed too fast for Robin's own eyes to keep track of.
Finally a screen popped up, showing the outside of several decrepit apartment buildings with another warehouse barely visible in the bottom right corner.
From the lighting of the video it looked to be around dusk, the sun casting a orange glow on everything. Then the camera switched angles, and everything seemed to stop around Robin.
The air was filled with smoke, some unfortunate people running away in terror as two figure shrouded in darkness traded blows.
Robin didn't need to see them clearly. He knew exactly who was fighting right at this moment, just outside of this building. And he also didn't need to see clearly to know one of them seemed to have an advantage over the other.
Robin would rather die than see the Joker kill the Batman of this world, just because of him.
"I don't believe I've seen this contender before..." Slade mumbled, trying on the computer to enhance the video feed. The camera zoomed in on Batman and Joker, taking a moment to clear the image.
Now that they were closer, there was no mistaking it. The Joker was merciless, and while Batman was equally so, he had no idea how to combat the seemingly random, sporadic attacks the Joker was known for. There was a noticeable limp to his left side, and he was favouring his right shoulder. The closer image also revealed the large bruise covering the lower right half of his visible face, and the half cut ear of his cowl.
It had taken Robin's Batman at least a year to be able to fight the Joker effectively, and that Batman had years more experience than this one.
If Robin sat there and did nothing, Batman wasn't going to live through this encounter.
The teen had been staring so intently at the screen, absorbing all the information that he physically jumped when he found Slade's cold gaze on him.
Robin stared back, confusion surely written on his face at the freezing stare being directed at him. Reflexively he reached a hand up to his face to see if there was anything there, when his hand brushed across his cheek at it all clicked.
Joker. The scars on his face. Only an idiot wouldn't connect the dots.
    The teen felt his face get a shade paler, but rationalized that his scars were only a small part of the story. A part that he would be keeping with him for the rest of his life to remind him of this experience, unfortunately.
    "Well..." he started off, eyes darted back to the video to make sure Batman was still fighting. "Now you know where I got these scars..."
    Slade didn't react, simply staring at Robin's face, eyes continuously darted back down to his scars. Robin was beginning to feel uncomfortable when the audio suddenly came to life on the camera.
    The sound of distant screams, police sirens, ambulence sirens, fire trucks melded together with the sound of the fire blazing next to the battling duo.
    The laughter, however, stood out stark against it all. It was insane, grating, and seemed to keep going to matter what was happening on screen. Even Slade looked uneasy about the cackles that now rang through the speakers.
    The laugh brought Robin back to that derelict room, the Joker standing over him, Robin's own blood on his gloves. His manic, bloodshot eyes that bore down onto his trembling form as he brought up yet another leg to bring crashing down onto his chest with a painful crack-
    Robin sucked in a breath and shook his head, steadying his shaking limbs to look back at the video. He gasped as he witnessed the Joker nearly hit Batman with one of his throwing knives, instead only clipping the side of his cowl.
    "I have to get out there." the teen found himself saying, taking his eyes off of the live feed to once more look at Slade. The man glanced at the screen, and then back to Robin.
    Robin knew he must have looked desperate, and maybe a little panicked. By the way Slade's features softened ever so slightly he might have even let some of his fear through the mask he made.
    All that Robin knew was that he needed to get out there. As of now he was the leading expert in fighting the Joker, and Batman was still losing. Even if Robin wasn't in his best shape he could still distract and  buy time for Batman to call the League if he found it necessary.
    Whether Slade agreed to let him go was the question. In all honesty, even if Slade refused to let him go, Robin would fight tooth and nail to get out of this Haunt. That didn't mean he wanted to leave, but if he didn't do something Batman could easily die, and it would be yet another tally to add to the growing chart.
    "I don't believe that would be a wise idea." Slade said softly.
    "Slade, you don't understand. I have to go out there, or Batman's going to die and I can't...I can't let that happen to him..." Robin whispered, hoping the plea wouldn't fall on deaf ears. This would go much smoother if he didn't have to fight Slade (and probably lose; He had gotten better, but not that much better).
    There was moment where Robin could see the gears turning in Slade's mind, going through all possibilities and outcomes and reasons that could come out of this situation. It all stopped when a spark entered his eye, and Slade gave out a soft sigh.
    "I cannot believe I am about to do this, but I don't think I have much of a choice if I wish to preserve my sanity."
    With no other words, Slade stood from his chair and slipped around the back of the computer. Robin waiting with baited breath as Slade came back around, a black belt, ecrisma sticks, a pair of armoured, black spandex pants and a domino mask in his hands.
    "I keep these for emergencies. The belt will be big, but you can wear it as a sash if you need to. The mask is adhesive, so there should be no problems there. As for the pants you may cut them as you please." Slade shoved the materials into Robin's arms, and he clutched it to his chest.
    Robin looked up with wide eyes as Slade started explaining the belt. "The front right pocket contains flash bangs, and the front left pocket contains non-lethal throwing discs, about 12 if I remember correctly. The right side pocket contains 5 throwing knives, the left side sedatives along with a small rebreather. The right back pocket holds the small explosives and the left a mini first aid kit, if you desperately need it."
    Robin was speechless as Slade went back to the computer. He didn't sit, but he stood with his arms behind his back, simply watching the footage.
    The teen looked down at all he had been given, and didn't hesitate to put on the mask. It was almost an exact copy of his old one, the only difference being the small, sharps curves at the edges.
    There was really no need for it. Everyone would know who he was without it because of his scars. The mask simply brought him a feeling of security, and made Robin whole again as his most expressive feature was covered.
    Next was the pants, and they were indeed comically big on him. He pulled them up as far as they would go on his chest, and then cut them at about his navel. They were a bit loose, but they would stay up during all of his acrobatics.
    The belt he managed to wrap around himself two times and was able to secure the latch easily. It was snug on his waist and the weight was another comfort Robin didn't know he missed.
    Robin looked back at Slade to see him still watching the screen. The teens adrenaline spiked when he saw Batman being kicked to the ground. The Bat got up quickly, but his movements were lethargic. He needed help and fast.
    Robin opened his mouth to ask where to go, but Slade beat him to it. "Left down the hall, two rights, another left, third door on your right."
    Everything in Robin's body wanted to start sprinting in that exact direction, but he didn't get even two steps before he was turning back to Slade.
    He owed this man his life. That was something that he might not be able to repay if he left now. There was a very good chance that once he stepped out of this Haunt, Robin would never see the man again.
    "Thank you, Slade. For...for everything, really." Robin said, and Slade spared him a glance before he turned back to the screen with a curt nod.
    The cold attitude sent a bit of a pang through Robin's chest, but he knew it was for the best that they cut all ties. It was easier this way.
    But as Robin got to the threshold of the doorway, he stopped. A questioned burned in his mind, and he would regret it if he didn't ask now.
    "Why are you letting me go? I thought that..." Robin couldn't finish the sentence, but Slade seemed to get what he wanted to say.
    Without looking away from the screen, Slade answered him. "I cannot keep you here forever. It is not possible. And I can tell that this is something you need to do. Something you need to resolve by yourself. No one can help you, or else you will not feel the satisfaction you are looking for."
    It was said so simply, so matter of fact, that Robin was taken off guard.
    He would never get over how accurately Slade could read people. And he want wrong this time, either.
    With a smirk, Robin crossed the doorway. "Wish me luck, hope I don't die."
    "Do not be ridiculous. The Bat won't let an 'innocent' die. And neither will I, if it comes to that."
    "Don't worry, it won't! I can take him!"

Hopefully.