Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.
The rise and falls of Robin’s chest blared the stress he was under. His mind was a car horn held down in freeway traffic, and although he blinked and shook his head, he couldn’t bring any clarity to what was happening. Robin’s entire arm trembled, even with the knife gripped as tight as it was.
The command was given, but Robin couldn’t move. He knew Slade would be angry at repeating himself and yet he could only force his lungs to gather intermittent oxygen.
Robin’s eyes clenched shut and the trembling weapon lowered several inches. “I– I can’t.” His shoulder muscles tensed in anticipation of the sharp pitch of static in his ear.
“Robin. This a simple choice. Either you kill the empath or I kill the rest of your friends.”
Robin hung his head, choking back a sound he didn’t want heard through the transmission. Slade had been ripping him apart from the core for weeks, forcing him into impossible situations to drive a wedge through his morals. It was unraveling the careful control and stability Robin had, teetering his mind over the dangerous precipice where it was becoming too much.
Raven’s body lie defenseless, her navy cloak fanned out with her hood drawn back from her hair. She looked as if she was just sleeping rather than knocked out from the fight, and it was killing Robin.
"Slade, master, please! I’ll do anything else. I’m already serving you. I’m doing everything you ask! This wasn’t the agreement!”
“You have fifteen seconds, Robin, before I make the decision for you.”
Robin buried his head against Raven’s chest in unadulterated agony, feeling her heartbeat against his forehead. He was gripping her arm in a death grip, as if it would wake her up and they could simply go back to fighting. Instead the empath’s body stayed motionless.
"Master, please!" Robin’s voice blended into begging and promises to do anything. His eyelashes were wet behind the mask because as Slade interrupted with a cool, "Five seconds," Robin knew he had no choice.
His hand trembled violently with the serrated blade. Robin could save three of his friends or one of them. He couldn’t see any other options. The stress bent his mind to breaking point. He was either hyperventilating or not breathing at all, because the world around him was sucked away where the warm blood streaked across his face didn’t register.
Then Robin slumped back, the knife slipping from his numb fingers, enthralled by the loud pounding in his head that was drowning out Slade’s voice. He didn’t hear the metal clatter against the pavement.
It could have been minutes or hours before the Titans came, their voices drowned out as if underwater. Robin was grabbed and punched, but he staggered and fell limp in the grip, hardly deciphering the screaming voices in his ears. Slade himself came to the aid of his apprentice, and from that point on, the mastermind had won.
if you scream at 19yr old retail workers who are trying their hardest till they cry i hope you fucking burn in the deepest level of hell