Being pulled to the office was scary. Especially when she could think. She should have been Agent 13, now she was Svetlana Orlova, a new girl. A whole new girl. She had thoughts, feelings and empathy now. She was no longer a shell. A pretty little doll to distract.

He stared at her, hard hands on his desk. Anger in his face.

Breath in. Breath out. Be a doll. Be a doll not a girl. A statue of corrupt feelings, of murder and abuse. Not a smile. Not a wink. Nothing would save her now. She was doomed.

Svetlana stood, shoulders back, back straight. Everything was perfectly balanced.

"Forward, 13."

One step. Two step. Three step. And there.

Don't make eye contact! Don't breathe too loud! Heart beat just enough to be alive. No fear. No fear. No fear. No fear! Fear is for the weak, the freaks she killed. Fear. Fear. Fear.

Blink. Breath. Blink. Breath. In. Hold. Out. Remain that pattern. Blink. Breath. Blink. Breath. In. Hold. Out. Repeat. Blink. Breath. Blink. Breath. In. Hold. Out. Act. Act! Act. Just keep up the act.

He knew. He must have known.

"I see you go by Svetlana now."

She remained silent. Blink. Breath. Blink. Breath. In. Hold. Out. It's all she had to do, over and over. No words. No nothing.

"I know it didn't work. The test, 13, they tell me everything. Did you forget we take blood samples, run test?"

Don't talk! Stay still. Pretty and still. Blink. Breath. Blink. Breath. In. Hold. Out. No words. No noise. Nothing. Survive. Survive. She has to survive!

"You can act all you want, either way I'm getting more out of you then you know. You're here aren't you, Orlova, you're killing those who are useless. I will have you."

Tick. She ticked. A small small under eye tick. She screwed up. Stupid nerves! All she had to do was: Blink. Breath. Blink. Breath. In. Hold. Out. It's all she had to do!

The pretty hair was grabbed. The blonde waterfall was pulled and tugged until she was dragged to him.

"I know your game, your not leaving."

Don't fucking speak! Don't give in.

"I know they're here."

He knew. He knew. He knew. Stupid, stupid boy!

She spat on him.

"My favourite game."

"I don't want to play." She was raspy, not using her voice for weeks made it hard to speak. "I will not play, you will die."

"I will die, but that doesn't mean you win, 13." He was clever. Her eyes narrowed. She moved to hit, but instead pain flooded her system. "Your body is still mine."

"You don't own me. I own me."

He laughed. He erupted woth laughter, his high up face came down to her level. "I can't be hurt for as long as that switch is down, 13."

Her toes pointed, giving her an extra few inches of height. "I own me. I own me!"

"I own you." He let go of her hair as his other hand found her neck. "I'll always own you, in death, in life."

She struggled, body twitching, legs kicking. White skin fading. Red taking over. Breath! Just breath! Stop and breath! Don't panic!

Win. Win. Win. All she had to do to win was own herself.

Kick harder! Don't scream. Don't shake. Ignore the pain. There was no pain. Pain, who's pain. No pain. Pain doesn't exist.

He dropped her. Her knees crashed to the floor, her hands found her neck, she never lost before. One breath. Two breathes. Three. And four.

She tapped away the water that glossed her wide eyes. "I will win." She struggled.

His shoe hit her face. Nose broke.

There was clarity. A laugh from her pain ridden face. "Silly silly man." She soat blood on his shoes.

His eyes widened for only a small second. He had messed up but he mustn't show. He had shown it.

"The switch huh? Switch or pheromones?"

A growl - he kicked, she rolled away and jumped up.

The game had just started.

Breath. In. Out. Stay level. Blink. Blink. Blink. Ready. Steady. Go. Her moves, her way of life, now was to prove she was strong. Now she could prove she could do it.

Blood was like paint. Like a decoration. Her skin. His skin. She could taste it, metal she was familiar with. Svetlana played dirty, she always had, biting, spitting, winning was winning.

Her skin was broke, vibrating with pain. Every part of her wanted to give up. The white uniform was red. The blonde hair? Red. Her? Red. Everything was red. Her life. Him. Everything. She has to keep going.

The switch? The switch it must have meant something.

Her body hit a wall. The perfect wall. She giggled and slammed her head against the sharp thing that stuck out.

The lights it flashed. Her world it flashed. Red. White. Red. White. Live. She had to live. They had to live. Every puppet down there had to win, everyone had to survive. She had to survive.

But on top of it all, she had to survive for him. Damian Wayne had to survive and she'd live with them.

Russian fell of his tongue.

She was up, grabbing the nearest thing and waving. Hit. Hit. Hit. Anything and everything. His face. His body. His teeth. His face was messed up and even as he screamed she didn't stop.

She went and went. Even when the door opened. Even when a voice shouted stop. She didn't. She hit him until his face was morphed in blood, pain and anger. Bang! Bang!

"Svet!"

Arms wrapped around her.

"He's dead."

She shook. She fought against him. "He owns me."

"No one owns you, ‎أعز فتاة." He whispered lowly, turning her to face him. His hands left her arms as she calmed down and held her face. "You own you, no more of this, no more Agent Thirteen, just Svetlana Orlova." Dearest girl

She grabbed the collar of the Robin suit, slammed her head against his and breathed in his taste. She kissed him like he was oxygen, like she hadn't breathed in years.

A/n: that's a wrap, I was gonna write more with just the robins but this story is more about Svetlana and her need to over come her life. This definitely neeeds editing because I'm sure it feels rushed at points due to changes like a lack of robins chapters. Anywya: I'm the mean time I shall be starting the sequel, but you'll have to give me a hot moment to write it x