Title: Cages of the Lost

By, Insaneiac the Maniac, Rebel Aquarius, Victor Van Heiring and Alexnandru Van Gordon

A/N: Insaneiac: Hello everyone. –Waves at the pretty people- How are all the pretty little readers today? All bustling with excitement I suppose?

Alexnandru Van Gordon: Hope not… I'm not… Conspiracy! Run while you can. It's--

Insaneiac: -Clamps hand over Alex's mouth- Oh quiet you… Not everything is a horrible conspiracy. Anyways, I am here with Alexnandru Van Gordon to introduce this chapter of our new story.

Alexnandru Van Gordon: -Sets of muffled cries- (Translation: run while you still can! Anything with Slade in it is bound to be bad… Argh…)

Insaneiac: He's joking folks, he's sincerely happy to present this chapter… right Alex? –Glares evilly-

Alexnandru Van Gordon: Umm…. Yes I am… I think. –Scared- Of course I am!

Insaneiac: So sit back, grab a soda, or beer, or whatever it is you people drink, and enjoy.

Alexnandru Van Gordon: …What he said.

SUMMARY: Trapped once, Robin had a hell of a time escaping Slade. But what now when all hope seems lost for the returning apprentice?...

DISCLAIMER: None of us own it…now that that's said and done….

CHAPTER ONE: Remembrance

Okay…so maybe he wasn't exactly the best at everything. People called him the Boy Wonder, always expecting him to be some sort of immortal fighting machine. You didn't see someone come up to you after a battle and ask if you were alright unless, of course, it was one of your teammates—the crowds and fleeing civilians automatically assumed you were still in one piece and left you alone. It was…alright, seeing that you never really wanted to land yourself in a hospital, but you wished people would quit thinking nothing could hurt you.

He was hurting right now.

At first he felt nothing as the wind whipped at his back, a hand outstretched forward to catch a branch as he fell down the cliffside. His bo-staff was out and he could have probably rammed it into the rock face to slow his descent and possibly end his fall altogether, but that was gone too. It fell before him and he began wishing that it didn't.

His back hit a branch and it broke beneath him, slowing the fall to a minimal with the addition of new pain. In agony he hit another branch and twisted in the air to now face the ground that was rushing up to meet him. In a last attempt to save himself, he reached out and caught another outstretched branch. His arms were almost pulled from his sockets and the initial jolt was enough to make him dizzy, but even then the branch didn't hold. He fell the next few feet and landed—somehow alive—on top of his bo-staff.

Waiting a moment, he regulated his breathing before pushing up off the long thin metal rod. There would be a bruise on his chest where he landed on it and that would only make matters worse—but what worried him most right now was the fact that it was broken down the center. He could extend it further if the end broke off, but breaking it directly down the center made it utterly useless.

He was screwed.

Standing, his back ached and he paused before hesitantly arching backward to crack it out. That done, he bent to pick up the broken staff and tossed it aside after checking once more for any way it could be of use to him. He would usually have more weapons in his belt, but He made sure to empty it before starting this sick game, a punishment for another small outburst back at his hideout.

Honestly, Robin believed Slade just did it because it was fun for him alone.

This thought reminded him to run.

Taking back off into the damp forest, he quickened his pace with the help of the adrenaline pumping through his beaten body. It was almost numb now…warm in areas of new bruises and cuts and he was becoming dizzy from the exhaustion. It felt like he was running in a nightmare now…

"You can run…but you can't hide, Robin."

Oh God.

Robin tried to move faster, maneuvering around tress, fallen branches and upright roots protruding from the wet ground, moistened and muddy thanks to the light drizzle of rain. There had to be a road or something up ahead. All he had to do was outrun him and he could take as long as he needed to get back to them.

He'd have better luck returning from the dead.

Silence followed after when the drizzle of rain lessened to nothing, the gray sky darkening as night approached. Perhaps he would have better luck in the dark, but it sounded as though he were alone…Then again, Slade had a knack for hunting.

Slowing to a halt, he stopped in a small clearing to gain his breath. He had been running non-stop for who-knows-how-long and it didn't seem that he was being pursued. His gut, on the other hand, was twisted with dread and his intuition was kicking in again to tell him to run, but that was near impossible. His left ankle was swelling up, either damaged from the fall or his last battle with Slade before he escaped—he really couldn't tell. There was too much pain to remember much of anything besides.

Then the foot connected with his right side.

Airborne, he flew to the side with the helpful force of Slade's kick, hitting a tree and falling to a knee in the mud. Before he could switch to a defensive mode, the hair on the back of his head was gripped in a powerful fist and the side of his head was rammed into the trunk of the tree beside him. There was a moment's pass for his vision to clear before it came again, this time his body going slack from the swelling pain. Blood pounded in his ears and he saw stars for the longest of times before the fist released him—only to grab his right arm as Slade walked around to the front of him. When the man twisted his own body, Robin was brought up onto his back—before flying across the clearing back into the dark forest. A branch broke as he hit it with his back, twigs and weak roots snapping beneath him as he landed and rolled to a stop.

Lying on his back, he was almost tempted to pretend he was unconscious.

Too late to play dead.

Forcing his eyes open, he pushed up on his hands to sit and stared back the way he came. Same as the time Slade threw him down the cliffside, the man was gone. All was still and silent…nothing disturbing dreary the forest scenery.

He hated it when Slade played games.

He stood, body aching as he moved, and looked down at his black suit, half the chest colored with a copper orange. It was torn and covered in mud…and something red—but at least he was alive. But how long would that be—and why would he care? Death seemed like a far better fate than enduring this again. He would have given anything to gain his freedom…besides the one option Slade left him with.

If it hadn't been for the small spaces between the branches, he would have never heard Slade move forward as they snapped against his running body. Barely in time, Robin dodged to the side of the on-coming fist but discovered the disadvantage of fighting in the forest when he hit yet another tree in the process. Shoulder throbbing, he kicked out at Slade and caught him in the chest, turning and fleeing as fast as he could while he had the chance. But Slade was a man who lived for the hunt and a simple kick wasn't going to keep him back. He was on Robin's tail in an instant, gaining speeding as he maneuvered professionally through the tough terrain.

No use losing him.

Stepping atop a large root protruding from the ground, he jumped up and flipped backward, twisting in the air to land directly behind the predator. Then, before Slade had the time to swing around, he planted a second kick on the small of his back and watched as the villain arched into the blow before falling forward. He gained his balance, however, and whipped around to catch Robin in the jaw with a roundhouse punch.

Seeing stars, the boy stumbled back and fought to stay standing when he almost tripped over something else on the forest floor. His back hit a tree trunk and as he opened his eyes a hand shot out toward his throat, fingers curly into an iron grip around his neck, pulling his forward and slamming him back into the wood. Again he saw stars, either from lack of oxygen or the pounding—he couldn't tell.

There was a moment pause a Slade watched his apprentice slowly fight his way back to consciousness. He wasn't the weak type and that was why he had no better place in the world than at Slade's side.

Lacking air, he couldn't even cough as black dots danced across his vision but the pain seemed less as he was pulled forward and thrown to the ground on his back. A foot stomped on his chest to keep him down and began pressing into him, sore ribs aching under the pressure.

If he was going to kill him, Robin hoped it was soon.

He tried to think straight, tried to remember his friends. They were somewhere safe, he hoped, and possibly even looking for him now—but who would find him here? They had warned him numerous times to try and stick with the group when it came to his obsessive habit of taking down the bad guy solo, and Beast Boy had even attempted to scare him out of the habit.

'Dude—the guy probably isn't even human!' The changeling exclaimed, waving his arms for emphases. 'He must be some sort of demon from…you know…down there…'

'Hell?'

A nod.

'Not likely…'

Now he was starting to doubt his answer as well. Slade was a demon—a manipulating evil mastermind who knew no end to his madness. He was greedy for power and control over the animate and inanimate alike, going so far as to take possession of living breathing people even when no man or woman in the world had such a right to do so. He thought his word was final, that he would get whatever he wanted—damning anyone who said otherwise. Slade wanted to destroy the innocent and the weak, and master those who could be seen as otherwise—he tried it once before on Robin and even had his shot at Terra before returning to choice number one when he realized letting Robin go so easily was a sign of weakness on the villain's part. That was Robin's victory—escaping such a fate before—but Slade just had to be the last one standing…It was sick and it was most definitely cruel.

"You can try…" Slade began, waiting until Robin could think straight after the small scene of suffocation. "You're always welcome to try, but you should know by now that I will always win…"

He had something to say to that—actually, he had a lot to say to that. But knowing Slade, if he opened his mouth once to protest others would suffer because of it.

Yes, Slade was so keen on picking the right blackmail.

"And I can't understand why…" The man continued, pressing down harder on his chest, a small crunching sound followed by a bit-back cry of agony as a rib snapped. "Why someone as intelligent as you would refuse to see the truth. Shame, shame, Robin…how foolish of you."

Boy did he really want to say something, anything to shut the man up. The beatings and the sparring he could take—but when it came to the lectures he couldn't stand a word. He could imagine Slade as an execution, asking you if you had any last words before he ended you in a final swing. Who knows…maybe he had been at one time or another…

Slade shook his head, that one cold eye sizing up the small figure he was crushing with ease. It was remarkable to even him that a boy like Robin would be his enemy and then his apprentice…who would have ever known… "Stubborn, aren't you? Say something—honestly, tell me what you think about all this."

"About what…" Robin said with difficulty through grinding teeth. The pain was almost unbearable and even more so when Slade pushed down harder from the answer.

"About this." The eye narrowed in sick amusement. "You, broken and bruised, suffocating all because you refuse to just shut up and give in. It's quite stupid of you and I'm eager to learn as to why you are persistent in disobeying me when you already know it does you no good."

"Take a guess. It's obvious."

More pressure on his chest and another sickening crunch followed the breaking of a second rib.

"Humor me…"

"Freedom, Slade…to help and be free."

"I see…" Slade said. "Robin—like the bird, the balancing piece to your old mentor. He was the fear in the dark and you were the little light of hope. What a novel this would make…But I suppose it would make more of a tragic hero play. After all, you did fail in the end."

"It isn't over until I'm dead."

"Indeed, indeed…" And then Slade laughed; a small amount of the pressure on his chest released. "And I plan to make good use of you before you die, so perhaps your tale will have a few more surprises for the audience. That is, unless you give up on them all…"

No—he would never just abandoned the idea that someone was safe for him. Suicide was not an option and he knew that was the only thing Slade was suggesting. Slade knew he wouldn't ever try such a sinful thing—he was just mocking him further.

He had enough nerve to stay down and keep quiet as Slade looked him over again, probably estimating another punishment of sorts. He must have lived for that sort of thing. He was such a sadistic control freak…

But, you've got to get to know how your enemy thinks before you can defeat him or her. That was something Bruce taught Richard and he wasn't about to fail the man who took him in after his parents died in the circus. But how on earth were supposed to get into Slade's mind? It was basically hate and power intertwined and crisscrossed every which way into the insane mastermind breaking him down. Slade wanted to strip him of his righteousness, honesty and dignity, tear him down until he had no choice but to comply with what he ordered and fulfill each mission without disobedience or sound.

It just wasn't going to happen.

And what exactly did Slade want besides? Of course, he attacked Jump City with the help of Terra and stole technology from high-up companies—but what was he really up to? From what Robin could see, Slade really didn't need anyone to help him destroy a city, and he was good enough of a thief all on his own. What, then, was he aiming for? Something irreplaceable that was lost long ago—or something that he sought for but never attained?

Call him crazy, but maybe his sanity was one of the things on the list. Who could enjoy being Slade besides….Slade?

"You're awfully quiet for someone with such a short fuse…" Slade murmured, eye narrowing. "Cat caught your tongue?"

Robin didn't say anything. He was trying his hardest to ignore the man.

Slade, annoyed by the sign of disrespect, pressed harder than every before, two broken ribs following the first under the increasing pressure. Robin tried his best to remain silent and conscious, but the pain was blinding. The four broken ribs began stabbing inside and he couldn't breathe for the longest of times—only occasionally being able to gasp for breath.

"I thought I told you already, to answer whenever I ask you a question…" The mercenary hissed, enjoying Robin's session of pain. "Must we go through this again?"

The foot pressed harder when no answer came, but how could he say anything? He was having a hard enough time trying to breath, let alone think speak to the man he hated the most.

The dizzy spill of unconsciousness came again, but this time he was brought back by the rush of cold air filling his aching lungs. He coughed from the abrupt action and turned onto his side once the foot was removed entirely. Blood came from his lips, but only a spits worth, covering his hand when he raised it to his mouth. His ribs on the other hand…how was he even still alive?

For that matter, what part of him even wanted to stay alive? Beast Boy had called Slade a demon because he never seemed to die, what about himself. Slade put him through hell on a regular basis, something that should kill any other person, yet Robin still managed to survive, still kept going.

A sharp and very painful jolt brought him out of his train of thought, as Slade delivered a brutal kick to his already damaged ribs, sending the poor and broken teen flying through the forest, and slamming hard into a tree. Another rather loud crack caused Robin to believe he had broken yet another bone, but it turned out only to be a large branch he landed on after hitting the tree. If he was an optimist, who at the time he was far from, he would have sighed a breath of relief.

However, optimism doesn't keep Slade away, and neither does staying in one spot. To Robin's utmost dismay, he couldn't get back to his feet. He still felt his legs; he just could get to a standing position. Aside from the sheer pain, the time he would waste trying to get to his feet would give Slade more than enough time to get in the perfect position to deliver yet another crippling blow, and another lecture. Swallowing his damaged pride, Robin began to crawl away from his position, moving at the fastest speed he could muster, and out of the area Slade would most likely find him. It was darker now, providing Robin with the cover of night, and perhaps Slade wouldn't be able find Robin's all too obvious trail.

It was all wishful thinking, as Robin felt himself bump into something.

"Tsk tsk Robin. My apprentice should not be crawling on the ground like some dog." Slade taunted, with a vicious tone masquerading behind the insult. A rough hand grabbed Robin's hair, and with very little care for his well being, yanked his head up from the ground, forcing Robin to look into Slade's mask, and more important, to force Robin to look up at his master.

Robin, despite the pain he was in, delivered the same masked glare of defiance he always gave Slade. The same look that, with every passing day, got weaker and weaker, even if Robin would never admit. That's the sad thing about hope; it can only last for so long before it's all used up. It can only endure so much before it just fades away. It was something Slade looked forward to greatly. Watching Robin's pathetic sense of hope and righteousness fade away continued to be one of his biggest goals in life.

"Even when you are beaten, even when you have to crawl on your hands and knees Robin, you continue to look at me like that. You know what I want to hear Robin, stop making this so hard on yourself. It takes the fun away from me." Slade droned, before dropping Robin's head back to the ground. "You've already crawled like a dog, and right to me all things considered. Save yourself the trouble and just say it."

Of all the things Robin wanted to do, submitting to Slade was the lowest on his list. Yet what Slade wanted of him was even lower. Robin struggled to lift his head from the muddy forest floor, looking at the metal boots of Slade, and slowly looking up. Slade stood his tallest, a stance made to show just how powerful he was compared to Robin. He did this whenever they were finished sparring, and Robin hated it every time, and he hated it a little more whenever he did it.

And the mask. The single most haunting image in his life. More than anything in his life, robin wanted to see that mask shattered, and lying across the floor of Slade's lair. And beside his broken mask, he wanted to have Slade, broken, beaten, and bleeding being forced to look up at Robin, and submit to him. To force Slade to do the same things he forces upon Robin every day, before finally killing him.

His deepest, darkest, and most sinister desire and his biggest, most disturbing fear was just that.

It would prove everything Slade said to be true, and it would make Robin just as bad as he was. Yet he still wanted nothing more than to see Slade, the figment of his nightmares and the constructor of his cage, to suffer and submit at his feet.

What he had to say was killing him, but the thought of their lives played in Slade's hands was even worse. He might have been down and dying now but soon, the moment Slade slipped up for a second, he would be at his throat like a hound from hell, gnawing away at his throat until the bastard died…As hard as his morals were, nothing would give him more satisfaction than to see him dead…

Maybe he made Robin say it because it had to do with something he lost in the past? Perhaps that was why Slade was such a cold hearted brick-head…perhaps that was what he was searching for still to this day.

"I won't…try it again…"

"Oh, I know you won't." He laughed, amused slightly by Robin's hope to escape it. "I can make sure of that, but that's not what I want to hear. You know what it is and I can assure you that someone else besides you will suffer if I don't hear it soon."

Please God…

He had to swallow his pride. Though all his years of experience, one thing he learned was that pride and close relationships ruined it all. Even this sick-o knew that—that was why he was using it against Robin now. What a sociopath…

"Robin, I'm losing my patience." Slade growled. And you know that is quite a rare thing."

"Fine…I'm sorry."

"Sorry, what?"

Whatever reason saying it would bring satisfaction to Slade was beyond Robin's understanding, but his life wasn't the only one on the line. It would be a sin to make others suffer due to his pride.

"Sorry…" It was such a bitter word. "…Father."

He could tell Slade was smiling. He could feel it under the man's gaze that that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was eating Robin alive. His real father…his real mother were both long dead—even though Bruce was his surrogate father, he was more like a brother than anything else. To call Slade his father was a sin on his true father's soul and he could only hope that he couldn't hear him now from up there in heaven.

I'm so sorry…He thought. I should have never left the circus; never became a hero…I should have died with you that day…

It was the truth. It was the truth and he could never stop wishing for the chance to go back to that faithful day.

"Now, was that so hard? You could have avoided all of this in the beginning if not for you arrogance and pride."

Go…to…hell…Slade…

Calling him master would have been better. There was no way that Slade was going to fill that position…

No way in Hell…

Then, in a small way to escape the pain as his broken body was lifted swiftly off the ground, he found his mind wandering to how this second capture began…

-A-

Victor Van Heiring: Usually Rebel would help me with this but I can't seem to find her…--looking around carefully—but don't worry. You'll get to see her soon and more of us all. Thank you for reading the first chapter to our challenge story and we hope we can keep you interested long enough to see us at the end. Oh—and special thanks to the sponsor and 'challengee' of this story, Slade Wilson – Deathstroke.

Until Again (I stole this from Alex)

The authors