Change to Robin: Consumed by guilt

I’ve done a bad thing. No, that’s not it. I’ve done a horrible, irredeemable thing. I can’t look myself in the mirror anymore. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I see Raven everywhere I look.

I talked to Bruce about it. That was a mistake. He says I made the right decision. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted him to tell me how to redeem myself. Instead, all I can see is that I’m becoming more like the parts of him I hate so badly. He’s so cold… calculating… He calls himself “Batman”… what a joke. Bat maybe, but he’s no man.

Without Deathstroke’s league of super villains breathing down their necks, all the newer titans have gone their separate ways. Even Conner, Bart, and Cassie* left. Only the founding members remain… minus Raven of course.

So… we all distract ourselves as best we can. Cyborg’s literally sealed himself in his workshop, building who knows what. The faint hum of power tools doesn’t stop even in the dead of night.

Starfire’s been putting herself through progressively stranger Tamaranian mourning and purification rituals. Secretly I wonder if she hasn’t run out and just started making them up for lack of any other way to handle it. She feels everything ten times stronger than we do so… agh… I don’t want to finish that thought.

Beast Boy is spending less and less time in human shape. Does it give him solace to be in a “natural” form? Or is it easier not to think about it when your brain is the size of a peanut? I suppose maybe he just feels more like a weasel, cockroach, or vulture than a human being right now. I sure do.

And me? I’m keeping busy the only way I know how… which is how I came to be hanging upside down at San Francisco Central Power, hacking into their usage data statistics. The idea was that Slade’s base probably has a high power requirement. At least that’s what I was thinking when I **** the dogs, slipped past the guards, unplugged the security cameras, and dislocated my shoulder playing alarm-laser-limbo. Fucking Lexcorp and its excessive security. And after all that there isn’t a single clue in the power grid.

I would really very much like to hit somebody right now.

Five shakedowns later, I’m no closer to Deathstroke, my knuckles hurt like hell, I think my jaw is stuck in threatening-clench mode, and I still feel like crap’s retard cousin. Dawn is breaking by the time I make it back to the tower. There’s a package sitting on the matt. I take it upstairs not thinking much of it. Probably parts for Cyborg’s magnum opus du jour.

Starfire’s sitting at the table eating an unsettlingly large helping of ice cream out of an empty water melon rind for some reason. At some point, you just stop questioning things. I tried my best to smile in a friendly manner, but it didn’t come out quite right, so it’s probably for the best that she didn’t look up or acknowledge me in any way. I note that the box isn’t addressed to Victor Stone, but to “Robin Batmanson”. Somebody thinks they’re funny. I open the box.

Suddenly, the world fell away. My stomach lurched, leaving me feeling sick and weightless, my head spinning with the implications of what I was seeing. I dropped the box dully to the table, taking a step back.

Raven’s pendant… and Slade’s symbol? It can’t be. All this time… this was all a set up? It was all Deathstroke the Terminator’s headgames!?!

“Get ready to go Starfire…” I mumble, only dimly aware of what I’m saying as the shock gives way to a rage I haven’t felt since the last time I laid eyes on Boss Zucco**. “I don’t what this means… but even if he’s just screwing with us, Slade is asking for a beating!”

*(Conner Kent, Bart Allen, and Cassie Sandsmark. Super Boy, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl respectively.)

**(The mobster responsible for Robin’s parents’ deaths, natch.)