Chapter Text
It was a dreary day for Jump City. Usually the sun was shining, and the sky was clear. But today heavy dark clouds loomed overhead. It had rained earlier in the morning, and it looked like it would rain again soon.
Slade glances up at the sky again, wishing the sky would clear. That would make it more likely for the Titans to be out and about, and Deathstroke had his eye peeled for the Boy Wonder. He hadn’t seen the teen in over three months since Slade had been working for the League of Assassins training some ‘new recruits’.
Being in such a remote area in the Middle East, it had been difficult to keep up with the news in Gotham and Jump City, but he had heard whispers in the League that Robin had disappeared from Gotham City. Slade hopes that it is only a case of Robin being off on some Titan’s mission, or maybe recovering from an injury, and not something… worse.
With ease and grace that shouldn’t be attained by a man of Slade’s weight and stature, he effortlessly jumps a 25-foot gap between two buildings as he makes his way towards the Titan’s Tower. Slade slows when he spots a small figure sitting at the edge of a nearby building. A building which Deathstroke and Robin often spared fought on.
Which super brat is that?
Carefully Slade gets closer, coming up behind the figure. He doesn’t recognize the person, no, boy, as far as his suite goes. Which appears to be solid black. The kid’s damp black hair looks awfully familiar though, and the closer Slade gets, he recognizes the smell of the kid’s strawberry shampoo and bodywash. The tinge of worry in his chest dissipates.
“Whatcha doing up here alone, kid?” Slade growls, crossing his arms.
The boy doesn’t turn around, or even flinch. He also doesn’t answer which isn’t like Robin at all, who is always ready for a quip or snarky comeback. “New suite?” Slade tries a different approach.
“Yeah.” The Boy Wonder’s voice is so soft Slade barely hears it over the building wind.
Okay something is definitely wrong.
I’ve never heard Robin sound so defeated.
Slowly Slade moves up beside Robin, towering over the little bird. But the boy still doesn’t look up, from where he is sitting on the ledge of the roof, his feet dangling in the air, and his shoulders hunched forward.
Slade notes that the kid’s suit is wet, probably from sitting in the rain. He catches a glimpse of a bright blue bird-like emblem on Robin’s chest.
“I see you stuck with the bird theme…. And you have pants now.” Slade makes sure he has a mocking tone in his voice to keep in character.
“Can you just go? I’m not in the mood to fight you today.” Robin’s voice comes out hoarse, and rough.
“Kid?” Slade furrows his brow. Robin had never, ever, turned down a chance to spar fight.
“Please. Just go away.” The kid’s voice hardens with frustration but cracks at the end. He angrily scrubs the back of his hand across his cheek.
“Are you injured?” Slade quickly glances over the boy’s body looking for any signs of severe injuries, but doesn’t see anything right off, but that doesn’t mean much in the vigilante line of work.
The kid doesn’t answer.
Usually if the Boy Wonder was ever injured, he was quick to be like ‘ yeah, I fought killer croc, and he got in a couple good slashes in before I kicked his butt back into Arkham. ’
The silence was damning.
Maybe he is embarrassed that he was injured in training or as a civilian?
“Robin…” Slade starts but is cut off.
The boy finally looks up and his face is pale, but red and blotchy. His eyes are hidden behind a familiar black domino mask. “I’m not Robin!” the kid snarls, but it comes out too wet and hurt to have any real heat behind it.
“What?” Slade’s eyebrows shoot up under his mask.
“You heard me!... I’m… I’m not Robin anymore.” The kid drops his head again.
One part of Slade urges him to turn tail and run before he gets caught up in the awful minefield that is emotions , but the other side of him is too worried and intrigued to leave the boy alone. Especially in such a vulnerable state.
Who knows what kind of ruthless murderer could come along and hurt the kid!
With a resigned sigh Slade lowers himself down to sit with his own legs dangling off the edge of the building.
They both sit in silence for a solid five minutes before the kid finally speaks.
“He fired me.” His voice comes out in a whisper.
“The Bat?” Slade raises an eyebrow.
Robin shoots him a scowl.
“No, Superman. Of course it was Batman! Who else would fire me from being Robin?” The boy snaps.
Ah there is some of that normal fire.
“Why? Last I heard you were rising through the ranks, leading your own team. Shaping up to be the next big bad Bat amongst men.” Slade drawls.
“Because he is stupid, and a coward, and a total jerk!” Robin spits.
“I knew about Bats being a stupid jerk, but coward huh? That’s a new one.” Slade makes sure to keep his tone casual, boarding on provoking, per usual.
“The stupid Joker shot me, and Batman got all frantic and fired me. Said it was “ too dangerous for you to be Robin anymore ”.” The kid does ‘air quotes’ with his hands, making Slade snort. But then he turns serious.
“The Joker shot you?” Slade sharpens his gaze.
I knew the kid had to be injured otherwise he would have gladly accepted a fight to blow off some steam.
“Just winged my shoulder. It wasn’t that bad.” The kid shrugs.
“Huh.” Slade just grunts, keeping himself from asking further detail about the wound.
“We argued… a lot. He wants me to stop being a vigilante and go to college… I don’t want to go to college and I’m never going to stop being a vigilante. He told me that I was being insolent and foolish…. So, I left.”
“Left, like, for good?” Slade swings his legs back and forth lightly.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not going to go back to be yelled at and controlled. I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn.” Robin shakes his head.
“Are you going to live at the Tower?” Slade nods towards the large T shaped building.
“For now. I’m thinking about getting an apartment in Blud’.” The teen states, his hair being ruffled in the gusts of wind.
“As in Bludhaven?!” Slade snaps his head around so he can see the boy fully.
The only city in the US that rivals or is worse than Gotham?
Seriously?
“Yes…” Robin’s domino narrows.
“How old are you, kid?” Slade demands.
“What’s it to you?” The kid leans away from Slade in suspicion.
“Just answer the dang question.” Slade growls, losing his patience.
“17.” Robin grumbles.
“You're 17 and you think living on your own in a city like Bludhaven is a good idea?” Slade lets his disapproval slip into his tone.
“I’m basically an adult! I can make my own decisions! I don’t need some random mercenary telling me what I can and can’t do! You’re not my dad!” The kid yells, his neck and face turning an angry red.
Random mercenary?
Deathstroke the Terminator a random merc?
Kids these days, honestly.
“I was 16 when I joined the military, not the smartest choice I have ever made. Grant was 18 when he died because he thought joining HIVE was a good idea. 17 is not a good age to be making life altering decisions.” Slade warns.
“You joined the military when you were 16? Your file said you were 18.” Robin cocks his head to the side like the bird that he is.
“That is because that is what the military has on file too. Well guess what? I lied on the documentation. And look where that has got me. Led to me losing my eye, my wife, and both my sons.” The words are out of Slade’s mouth before he realizes he was saying anything.
“But…. Joey isn’t dead… Right?” The teen takes on a pensive look,
“No, he’s fine… it’s just… he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Just like Adaline.” Slade admits, for some strange reason.
“Oh.” Robin deflates.
“Look kid, what I’m trying to say is, that right now is not the best time to be making any big decisions, okay? Give yourself time to think about and work through stuff.” Slade advises.
“Okay.” The boy nods.
Good, my job is done here. Just in time too.
Slade easily climbs back to his feet, as the first few raindrops splatter against his armor.
“Since you don’t have the Big Bat watching your back anymore.” He tosses a little earpiece to the hero. “Use this if you ever get in over your head.”
Robin looks at the communicator warily.
“It’s not a bomb.” Slade rolls his eye.
“This has a tracker in it.” The teen accuses.
“Of course it does. How else am I supposed to find you if you are nabbed or something?” Slade crosses his arms.
“I thought the Terminator could just, I don’t know, follow my scent like a bloodhound.” The bird challenges tucking into a back-roll and coming up on his feet.
Bendy little acrobat.
“I do have a heightened sense of smell, but it isn’t that good… Use the comm or don’t. I don’t care.” Turning on his heels Slade heads back towards the way he’d come.
“Whatever.” Robin shoves the earpiece into his utility belt.
“What are you calling yourself now, if you aren’t Robin?” The mercenary turns back.
“Nightwing.” A hint of pride seeps into the vigilante’s tone.
“Well then, Nightwing, go back to your little hero friends in the tower, and stop sitting out in the rain like a freaking gargoyle.” Slade jumps off the roof before he can hear Nightwing’s retort.