Hey! This is my first Teen Titans Fanfic, and I am proud to say that this is probably going to be one of the best Robin and Slade stories that you'll ever read. I have worked very hard on this, so I hope you will enjoy it. I have to admit that my grammar is not the best and neither is my spelling, so please bear with me.

Oh, and before anyone ask me if this is going to be slash, I apologize now, but this is NOT going to be slash. There might be some suggesting scenes, and maybe even a rape (if there is room for it), but it will be nothing graphic. Minor language might also pop up every now and then, but only in a few chapters. (For example, one word might be in chapter 2 and we won't see another one until chapter 13.)

Updates will be every other week, but it might not be possible. With school, homework, and just plain life in general, new chapters could take a while.

Anyway, with that said... please enjoy my fanfiction about Robin and the apprenticeship.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans.

Chapter 1: A new-born killer

Robin collapsed to his knees, sobs raking through his body. The whole world crumbled around him, like cheap three-year clay; almost as if the planet was once a beautiful model and now it's only a pile of dust and small chunks. He didn't mean to do it. He didn't mean to commit the crime. He was under pressure. A lot of pressure. The one thing that he cared about was in danger. He just couldn't risk the chance of it being gone forever like everything else in his life. It was the last original thing he had left of them.

Tears poured out of his unmasked eyes. He hadn't worn his mask for months, since it was, 'not needed', for he was no longer a hero. No longer Robin, Boy wonder, Batman's partner, and Titans leader. Instead, he was now an apprentice. Slade's apprentice. His identity had changed over the time he was with the mercenary. Those brutal months that had left a scar on him emotionally for the rest of his life.

His new identity is Grayson; the name that he was once proud of, because it was his deceased parents last name. Now'a days he loathe it. Not in disrespect for his parents, but because of what Slade had turned it into. Today he was feared and considered highly dangerous. 'Grayson' stole, hacked, injured, and even manipulated, but now another description described him.

"Well done Richard," said a male, smooth, silky voice from behind.

Those words barely registered in the boy's mind, for his other senses had taken over. The sound of fire cracking and debris falling, the cold touch of metal in his hands, the sight of a burning building, the taste of his own salty tears that had dripped into his gaping mouth, and most of all. . . . . the smell of fresh blood.

"What have I done", the former hero whispered in shock?

"Everything that you were supposed to do and more", replied Slade with a proud filled tone. "You did very good, Dick."

"Don't call me that", Richard snarled turning around still sitting on his knees. How could Slade sound so calm when there were a number of people sprawled on the ground dead?

"That is your name, isn't it", Slade said, eye narrowing slightly? "Why would I call you anything else than your birth name? I mean you're not Robin anymore, you're my heir, my apprentice, my... son if you prefer it to be?"

And there it goes. The vague reason why he took the name Robin from him. 'Robin' was not the person Slade wanted anymore. No. Robin had too many morals, too many promises, too many friends,and most importantly too strong of a mind.

Richard John 'Dick' Grayson on the other hand was breakable. Dick had no one and would turn to anyone who would take him in, and mold him into whatever the person shaped him into. Richard was lost and consumed by fear, anger, and regret. Even if all of that were true, Dick sill had the potential and sanity to the psychotic enigma's liking, as well as natural stubbornness.

"I'm not your son", 'Grayson' said. How dare he even mention such a thought?

"You may not think that now-", started Slade taking quick even steps forward to inspect the damage thoroughly. "- but in due time you will consider me to be like a paternal figure to you."

"Don't get you hopes up", Richard quietly muttered.

It must have not been quiet enough, because he received a painful backhand to the jaw. The feel of Slade's gloved hand under his chin, roughly lifted his head so that they were eye to eye, blue to grey.

"I will not tolerate disrespect", snapped Slade. "The sooner you get that information through that thick head of yours, the better it will be for the both of us." He removed his hand. "Do you understand?"

Dick, teary eyed, tore his gaze away from the cruel man. After everything that had happened not five minutes ago, the assassin still demanded respect. All of the dead bodies that littered the ground and the fire from the explosion, Slade ignored it as if it were nothing.

"Do you", reiterated Slade in demandment?

Richard reluctantly met his gaze once more. "Yes. . . . . master", Grayson spat out detesting the last word. He hated being forced to call him that.

Slade's one eye softened. "Good boy", he purred.

The mercenary then turned his attention to the horrific scene that displayed before them.

"I assume that the target was well taken care of", he stated.

"Yes sir", Dick responded automatically. He saw Slade nod approvingly.

"But-", Slade said. "- blowing up the hotel was not part of the plan." He glanced at Richard. "What happened?"

The former hero, far from recovery of his traumatic doing answered the villan. "The target was heavily guarded by his pawns. Apparently he had people on the inside posing as employees, and one of them found out about our mission, and attacked me. His guards had weapons and ammunition so I had no choice but to fight them. I was out numbered and they just kept on coming, and they started to keep all the innocent people hostage. They also killed a few of them, and I panicked."

Richard paused. "I was scared of what might happen, since the mission did not go according to plan. I didn't know if I should have just left and get punished by you or. . . . blow up the entire building and make sure the mission was a success."

They were silent for a moment, no one daring to speak.

"I see", replied Slade. "You were simply overwhelmed, because of the number of pathetically trained goons, and you were so selfishly driven to the point where you would rather murder over a hundred people, just so that you wouldn't be punished by me."

"What", Dick said taken aback by the accusation? "N- no it wasn't like that. I- I'm not selfish. I would never..."

"But you did", replied Slade nonchalantly. "You're learning boy. Self preservation is the key to this line of work; it's an easy skill to learn, but sometimes difficult to maintain when on missions.

He turned around to look at his apprentice. "You are used to saving people, Richard. It's hard to do the exact opposite and just watch them suffer. That's what made you panick. It was that, and your growing fear of me." He paused. "Dick, I don't want you to be afraid of your master. I punish you the way I do, because you step way out of line. The continual disrespect and unnecessary melt downs will be met with severe consequences. You have been under my care for four months. I expect all of your petty excuses to be gone by the fifth month. Understood?"

"Yes master."

"Good by."

The sound of distant sirens echoed through the air, signalling their time to depart.

"Let's go", Slade commanded.

Richard nodded, slowly standing up. He wiped away a few stray tears, and put his gun back in his pocket. He took one last glance at the people he had shot, and then turned away disappearing in the shadows with his master.

He was Grayson: a hacker, stealer, apprentice, liar, and now... a killer.

So what do you think? Was it alright, fine, okay, good, great, wonderful, terrific, or just plain awesome? Please let me know!

Please Review A.S.A.P.