Disclaimer: Ya know, I own a lot of things. Books, comics, movies, music, TV shows, a bike, even a bed! Unfortunately I gain no profit from any of them. Same with these stories of Robin, Batman and all the DCU. They're owned by DC comics.

Okay, um, just a heads up, I'm not very good with getting into the minds of villains. I know how to make them evil, truly evil. But finding their human sides or making them amazingly human, mean and relateable as bad guys is hard for me. So Slade's a bit... extreme? not true to character? Well, not the way he really should be. For me, villains are HARD! give me a hero and put them in a family/friends kind of setting and I can write an amazing story. Hence the volume of fluff I put into things. So sorry to all the Slade fans! I know he's not supposed to be this extreme and/or I'm being vague about what he does on average on purpose, but I just don't quite get him yet. A friend and I talk heroes and villains from time to time and I can tell her why so and so's a hero while she can explain Joker like he's her son! Scary.

So sorry if you don't like Slade! Just making it clear how badly DaddyBats is gonna pound him later.


Slade Plan B

Ch. 7 Lost Time

He laid there on the bare floor, some muscles twitching while others too sore and bruised to move. Everything ached. He was certain nothing was broken, but a few ribs were cracked. Dried blood kept his new uniform on at certain points. He didn't want to look in a mirror. Robin knew what kind of mess he'd look like by then. All he could do was think really, and at times even that was difficult.

How many days had it been? Two? Three? A week? Maybe more. Robin could hardly tell. There was no concept of time in this place. There were no windows, the lighting never changed, and there were no clocks. Even the food seemed the same, if you could call it that. Protein bars, nutritional substitutes, vitamin supplements, they were all bear minimal to keep up muscles and body functions. He wasn't being starved, just weaned off food in general.

Course that was partly his fault. Since his first hour of consciousness, he didn't trust a single thing Slade gave him. Any food item could be laced with poison or a drug. He didn't touch the meatloaf, potatoes and gravy he was offered. Slade wasn't pleased.

"Eat," he insisted coldly. Robin didn't move, didn't say a word. Again Slade ordered. "Eat Richard, my apprentice."

"Not interested." His stomach growled right after he said it but he ignored it. He could hear Slade's smile.

"Really. Being stubborn over such a small thing as food. You ate last time."

Robin scowled at the memory. He ate alright, but only the food he watched Slade's butler make. He never caught the name of the old man, nor learned why he worked with such a villain. Just to his fourteen year old self, it looked like this old man was someone he could trust with food. He reminded him of Alfred. After this butler abandoned Robin to Slade to steal though, he stopped trusting him.

Alfred should never be compared to that old man. Just like Slade and Bruce didn't belong in the same sentence. Not unless Slade being beaten to a pulp was a part of it.

"Eat, now."

Robin continued to scowl, folding his arms and touching nothing. He vaguely remembered a time when he refused to eat with Bruce because of something said between them earlier. It ended with neither of them really eating and everyone being depressed, hungry and upset. Somehow the three of them, Alfred included, snuck into the kitchen at the same time and laughed over a late supper. They forced nothing, and received so much in return.

And just what was Slade going to do to make Robin eat? Threaten a clown's life? That was beneath him. He may be the psycho's apprentice right then, but he was still going to make the man's life miserable. HE didn't have complete control over him. Robin could still be free in small ways.

Slade waited a minute or two, then stood up, not blinking. Robin tensed, sensing a fight coming. They were going to fight. A lot. Robin knew it. As Slade made it to his side, he spoke again. "Eat your meal apprentice."

"Make me."

'Two of the stupidest words to say to a psycho,' Robin berated himself on the floor. Slade did make him eat. It nearly choked him. He remembered being pinned down and his face being forced into the food. He remembered the throbbing of his jaw as Slade made his mouth chew the meat. He tried to fight back then, but things only got worse. His arm was nearly twisted out of its socket and his neck was sore from being twisted around back to the food.

Once the plate was clear, Slade let Robin go. But only for a moment. Robin coughed up a bit of food, starting to right himself, when a pitcher of icy water rushed over his head. Soaked to the skin through his apprentice uniform, Robin shivered and sputtered at Slade's feet, unable to control himself. He could still hear Slade's smirk. "That wasn't so hard. Remember this next time I tell you to eat."

Robin did his best to glare at Slade above him, but he still shivered from the cold. He had to be defiant. He had to prove to Slade he couldn't be controlled. That Slade was fighting a losing battle. Robin was his own man. Batman knew it. It was about time Slade realized it as well.

Slade glared down into his eyes, bringing back a fear Robin had of him, one he suppressed with every waking moment. It seemed like Slade knew of this fear, and it made him smile. He gave Robin a swift kick in the gut before going to the side of the room. As Robin fought to catch his breath, Slade threw a towel over him. "Clean up this mess. Training starts soon."

On the floor now, body nearly broken, Robin remembered his training, and the new jewelry piece Slade forced on him the following session.

Robin would always chatter through his fights growing up. Batman didn't talk much so he had to fill up the silence with something. His friends were very sociable so the fights became somewhat games. It was even his habit to have a conversation or to throw insults back and forth with thugs and bad guys. Once in a while, the bad guys would even stop fighting after a good talking.

Unfortunately Slade didn't want talking. Robin was beaten into unconsciousness after he made a few cracks at Slade being unable to handle children in general, and that he probably couldn't get a date to save his life. "What happened to that eye of yours? The last girl cut it out after you forgot an anniversary?"

The next thing Robin knew, he was waking up on the floor with something constricting his neck more than usual. He groggily felt it, wondering what Slade did to him while he slept. No, not slept, passed out. Robin wasn't going to go to bed for Slade. He didn't seem to have a room anyway.

After a few moments of feeling, he received a sudden shock through his body, starting at the neck. He jolted involuntarily, then settled. 'Ah crap,' he mentally cursed, infuriated and terrified at the same time. 'An electric collar.'

"Someone needs to watch his mouth." Wincing, Robin jerked his head around to see Slade, his hand over a slot on his utility belt. He could hear the monster smile.

"Why you little-!" Robin received another shock, this one longer, forcing him back to the floor in pain. He tried to grip it, but something had repulsed his wrists from his neck. Some kind of reverse electro magnetics? All he knew was the blinding pain coming from his neck, and there was no way to relieve it.

"You may not respect me yet, but you will." The pain stopped and Robin stayed crumbled on the floor. Slade knelt before the boy, forcing his strained face up to look at him. "You will learn what to call me, and to even appreciate this new life of yours."

"So you think I like pain?" Robin glared at him, mustering up all his courage for this little rebellion. "Idiot. I became a hero to stop pain, to stop people like you from hurting-!"

Another jolt stopped his tirade. Slade's one eye betrayed no emotion as Robin tried to endure the pain in silence. Batman could do it. Batman could—

He gave up imitating Batman's high pain tolerance and gave out a small scream. It just hurt too much. When the pain went away, Robin only had a moment to breathe, to think of the future and to think of the past.

For a moment he was a kid again. His parents were alive and happy. The circus was teeming with life and everyone wore smiles. The show would be starting within a few hours and it was going to be Dick's first performance. He could hardly wait. His dad smiled down on him and his mom held him tightly in her arms. Both were so proud of his hard work. The show was going to be magnificent.

The moment passed when Slade dragged him by his hair to his feet. Robin barely had his feet underneath him when Slade ordered him into a stance. "Jujitsu."

Already tired and ready to quit, Robin fell into the stance, shaking his head to wake himself. He barely had any time to defend himself from the onslaught of attacks.

In the now, Robin tried to reach his collar once again. He failed of course, but it was worth a try. It was barely underneath his uniform, so Robin guessed the collar was more practical than psychological. Still, being tethered to Slade like this was horrible. He had to get out of there. He had to escape! He had to—

He remembered Mr. Haley and the others at the circus, his first family. They were innocents in this. They were in danger because of him. They didn't even know how bad it could be. They shouldn't be caught in the middle of this.

Thinking of them, and then of himself, Robin cried. He tried to be silent, tried to keep his sobs small and undetectable. He knew he shook a little as he thought about what he had to do. Stay the course. Be Slade's apprentice. Protect them from assassins. Keep Slade busy.

And wait.

That was the hardest part of being a captive. It never mattered what the circumstance was. Waiting. Not knowing what was going on outside. Knowing the next few hours may be your last. If they weren't, more pain would surly follow. Waiting sometimes for days just to hear someone's voice again, all while knowing it was likely you wouldn't see them anyway.

He remembered waiting as a child. He had gotten in trouble at school and was told to wait for the principal to see him. He swung his short feet, pursing his lips, dreading what was likely to happen as soon as his parent came to the office. Dick was fighting at school. He was ten. Someone had insulted his mother, even though they didn't know his mom was dead.

Bruce had told him not to use his training on any of the kids at school. When he got there, he wouldn't be pleased. Robin might even be benched that night. Maybe even for the rest of the week. Dick hated staying home at night. Alfred was nice, but when he was in trouble like this, even he became cold. Being grounded sucked.

Before he knew it, the secretary approached him. She sighed. "The principal will see you now Mr. Grayson."

Dick looked around. He hadn't seen Bruce come in and this was the only hallway to the principal's office. "Where's Bruce?"

"Your father was in a meeting," the secretary informed him. "He couldn't make it."

Dread filled Dick as he nodded and went into the office. That was even worse. Being told about what Dick did while he was busy at work meant the lecture he'd get later would be about responsibility, being foolish, and interfering with their covers. No parent wanted to be called at work about their child's misbehavior, let alone when he's busy working on something they don't really like to do. He'd have to wait longer to get Bruce's wrath over with.

As Robin's mind drifted to another memory, he vaguely recalled the lecture was pretty loud and he was benched for two weeks, plus had meditation techniques added to his training. The ten year old rarely lost his temper on the playground again.

Then he thought of a time when he was eleven. Robin was knocked unconscious and locked away in a meat closet. Killer Croc managed to not eat him outright, but the thought hadn't escaped him. His belt was gone when he woke up and he had no idea how long he'd been out. The only thing he knew for sure was Batman would be looking for him.

But he was eleven. Shouldn't he be able to find a way out himself? Robin struggled against his bonds as he looked around. Hands and feet tied together behind his back, he had to use all his flexibility to bring them in front of him. The meat locker had a few dead pigs hanging from the roof, and every sharp object available to him was kept high and out of reach. Robin found the door, and then a thermostat. It was steadily going down.

"Great, I'm gonna die of hypothermia." Robin leaned into his hands and started to gnaw at the ropes keeping him there. What other choice did he have? The ropes were tight and tough, but not impossible. There wasn't any give so chewing on it was his only option.

The temperature continued to drop and he continued to chew. Before long he could see his breath. He shivered as time passed, getting colder and colder. Finally he felt some give on the ropes. He twisted his wrists, kept gnawing at them, hoping enough strands would break where he could actually get these things off him. He had to get untied. Once he was free, he could worry about the door. He could wrap his cape around him for warmth, but only when he was free to move.

Blood pounded in his ears, trying to keep him warm as he continued to fight the ropes. He had to get them. He had to! Robin bit back the fear from freezing. He'd make it out. He had to! He had to! He had… one rope snapped and Robin freed his hands. With numb fingers he worked on his feet. He glanced once at the thermostat and knew it was too cold for humans to bear for long.

He struggled to get to his feet, falling over several times. The cold had weakened his muscles. Mentally he thanked Batman on insisting he wear pants like everyone else and not the leotard Robin first picked. He pulled his cape tightly around him as he stumbled to the door. He tried to look through the window but was too short to get a good view. He could hear something behind it, but his ears were now ringing.

'Maybe someone's out there,' he dared to hope. 'Someone who'll help!'

Mustering all the strength he could, Robin pounded on the door. He couldn't make a sound. He was too cold to speak, and too cold to shiver. He barely could move.

Slowly, still pounding on the door, he slid to the floor. Exhaustion started to take control of him, making him weaker than he'd been in years. Count on a cold blooded criminal to stuff him in a meat locker and freeze him to death. Mr. Freeze at least shot you.

He was barely conscious when the door swung open. He saw Batman overhead through bleary eyes. He remembered giving the caped crusader a weak smile, trying to act fine. "Hey there. Better late than never."

Before he lost consciousness, he remembered Batman swooping down to him, wrapping his cape around him then holding him to his chest to warm him. He could hear Batman's heartbeat still, so fast, so strong. The man must have been worried out of his mind. He was there when Robin woke up in the cave, still holding the boy's hand.

Remembering Bruce's small moments of warmth along with his anger made Robin homesick. He didn't want to think of the man who nearly went mad with worry whenever he vanished. He didn't want to think of the one whom he wanted to impress most of all, to never disappoint again. He shouldn't think so much of how safe he felt as a kid with the man, and that he ran out on him over a stupid argument.

Waiting sucked. It made him remember unnecessary things.

Just like all those times before, Robin in the here and now pushed himself back up, giving a brave face to his dangers. He had to be brave. He had to face Slade head on. He couldn't give in to the insane man's demands.

It wasn't long ago, maybe a few days ago, when Slade, done training for the day (or whatever the massive, semi-educational beating was), told Robin to go sleep on a pad in the corner of the room.

There was only one room in Robin's mind. A pad in one corner, a toilet near by it, and a crate to use as a table. It wasn't the same place he was first brought to, but after his first "training session", Slade had moved him there while he was unconscious. The door was always locked. The vents were too far above for him to climb into and there were no windows. Robin knew what it was.

A prison. A place to break him down. And if Robin had anything to say about it, the place he'd be found.

Trying to straighten his damaged brain, Robin thought about that time again. Slade had told him to go to bed, get some rest. Robin had just glared up at the man. The only rest he had the whole time there was when Slade knocked him out. He wasn't going to give this nut job the pleasure of seeing his sleeping face. He remembered hearing Clark chuckling at Bruce when the man's back was turned, saying he spotted the man watching Dick sleep. Both of them apparently looked cute at the time.

No, Slade wasn't allowed to see Robin sleeping soundly. Besides, the first two times Robin was out cold, Slade changed his clothes and put a freakin' dog collar on him! Seeing the teen's defiance, Slade sighed. "Why won't you go to bed like a regular child?"

"I'm older than I look." His glare deepened.

"I know that. But you still need your rest." Slade seemed to be taking a step back from his usual terrorizing ways. "What, afraid I'll assault you in your sleep?"

"Wouldn't put it past you."

Of course Robin felt the collar's magic once more for that comment, and passed out before the pain receded. Apparently making any cracks at Slade's… love life… was a huge no-no. 'Good to know. His personal life sucks. At least I've got a girlfriend. And Bruce has quite a few options open to him. Wish he'd just pick one and… wait, the ones he really likes are bad guys… girls… No wonder he's not married.'

His mind wandered again, this time to Bruce getting ready for a date with Vicki Vale. She was one of the few who didn't have a connection to the criminal world or superhero community. According to Bruce, dating her was just part of his cover, but there was a slight spring in his step around her. Not as noticeable as the one when Selena or Talia were involved, but there was still something there. Dick remembered watching him tie his tie, bored out of his mind.

"Hey Bruce, why don't you just marry someone?" Bruce stopped part way through his knot before Dick elaborated. "Like Vicki. She's a nice girl. And I bet she'd keep our secret. Or Diana. You did like her for quite a while. Or Zatanna. You had a thing for her once right? Alfred told me. I'm sure I'm missing someone on this side of the law."

"I don't think I'll ever get married," Bruce admitted as he straightened his tie. Dick didn't want to believe him. Didn't everyone get married eventually? His parents certainly did, and so did Bruce's. Only butlers didn't get married right? Or was Alfred holding back on something? Watching Bruce's face as a slightly sadden spark entered his demeanor, Dick guessed he had a woman in mind, but something was probably keeping them apart. Probably one of his stupid rules or the law. "I'm just not the type."

"Anyone's the type. You're just not letting yourself."

Bruce didn't say a word, merely looked over to Dick as if he agreed, and that was the problem. After a moment he gave Dick a slight smile. "Well how about this. When you're all grown up, you get married for the both of us. Have plenty of fat babies while you're at it. I know you'll fall for a wonderful lady, one you'll proudly bring to your parents' graves. I'll take care of the ceremony. If I bring a date, and she catches the bouquet, I'll marry her."

Dick gave him an are-you-crazy look. "You're planning on waiting until I'm hitched to get a girl? Don't you want a normal family?"

"I have a family." Bruce ruffled Dick's hair just to annoy him, a smirk playing on his face. "And I'm satisfied with keeping it just the three of us."

Robin remembered the warmth he felt then. Bruce was always kind and ever so slightly affectionate. Dick kept giving out hugs as a child, even into his teen years for a while. And whenever he was really scared or hurting, Batman would always hold him. He was a hard teacher and a strict parent, but he was still kind. He always knew what to expect from him. He just wanted to make Bruce see things his way, wanted to make him proud, make him smile at him the same way he did when Dick was a kid.

Then he remembered Starfire. He remembered walking with her, hand in hand. He remembered the warmth he felt just talking with her. He enjoyed being with her over the other Titans. She was just too adorable not to like.

Could he bring her to his parents' graves? When would he? Did Bruce know something he didn't about Star? Was that why he didn't approve of his friends, especially her? They hadn't tried talking to each other in near a year, and it was merely to ask whether Robin could take off his mask yet. Batman said not yet and that was all. Stupid paranoid Batman.

The door opening behind Robin brought him back to reality. Couldn't that psycho let him rest for more than a few minutes? Give him some kind of space? His body wasn't close to healing and he felt with Slade's methods, the only time he'd be able to heal was if he cracked or fell into a coma. Robin prayed for a coma.

He gave the orange and black clad man a death glare, still sitting on the floor. He didn't want to fight, he wasn't sure if he could. He just wanted Slade to leave him alone. He was tired, sore, bruised, and barely conscious. His mind wandered too much and when it didn't wander he felt a cold fear trying to raise it self out of his chest.

He hated waiting, but not as much as he hated Slade.

Slade gave an exasperated sigh. Looked like he wasn't in for a fight this time either. "Why do you continue to look at me like that apprentice? I've only done my best for you."

That rewarded him with an even darker glare. His best? Robin was in no condition for training or even standing. He needed medical attention, or at least a good bed and real privacy for at least 48 hours. He needed sunshine and real air. He needed freedom with out any fear. Slade gave him none of that. Robin had little energy to fight him, and none for back talk at that moment.

Again the man sighed. "You truly are a stubborn one. Get to your feet. Today's lesson is respect. And you will give it to me."

Robin tried to get to his feet, still glaring his rage at the man, but found it difficult. It was worse than being frozen. Already he knew this lesson was going to hurt. The collar again. No matter what, Robin would never respect this maniac. At least not the way a student respected a teacher. He'd never earn it.

When Robin made it to his feet, he tried to straighten himself but found he couldn't. His muscles were too tight. Pain blared from every inch of his body. He imagined on his feet he looked like the hunch back of Notre Dame, one arm clutching his stomach to support each other. He was certain that wrist was sprained.

Slade wasn't pleased. "Straighten your back."

Robin tried but flinched instead. He couldn't pull his back into proper alignment. It hurt too much, and he wasn't Batman. His pain tolerance wasn't that high yet. He tried again gaining a few inches before gasping for air, falling back into a crouch. He took a few deep breaths before trying a third time. He almost managed to hold himself up before his muscles screamed too much and he fell back to his knees, rasping. He needed medical attention, now.

Slade stepped within inches of him, not even the slightest bit happy. "I said on your feet. Stand at attention."

"I can't," Robin barely managed to say. Saying anything was painful. It was getting harder to breathe. Problem was, Robin didn't know if it was because of the damage, or because of the rising fear in him.

Without warning, Robin was yanked to his feet by this collar and forced to stand straight. Slade had his shoulders propped up so his arms stayed at his side and his back was straight, just like a soldier. Robin started to yell from the pain then bit it back, flinching at Slade's touch. Every muscle screamed in agony, making it impossible for his face to remain calm. Slade held him in that position for about a minute before releasing the teen to fall to his knees.

"Hmm… looks like you'll need a day or two before your announcement."

Rasping for breath, Robin barely heard what Slade said. Announcement? What was Slade planning? At the moment it didn't really matter, except it sounded like Slade wouldn't be beating him to a pulp for a few days. That was promising.

The man circled him for a minute, almost as if he was assessing the boy. Robin just focused on relieving the pain he was in. When for that minute Slade had straightened his spine, he felt relief flood one area of his body. Maybe if he slowly stretched his back while on the floor, he could fix whatever was wrong in one area. Worth a shot, just not in front of Slade.

Finally the man stopped circling him. When his steel toed boots stopped before Robin's eyes, he heard the assassin speak. "Tell me Robin, what am I?"

He was still catching his breath, but he managed to come up with a list. "Criminal, assassin, crime lord, kidnapper, thief, murderer, wacko, half blind, OCD, not a ladies' man-!"

Once the insults had started, Slade pressed his favorite button. Electricity surged through Robin's body, forcing him to curl up once again. After a few seconds, it stopped and he was breathing heavily on the floor again.

"Let's try again. What am I Robin? Who am I?"

Robin needed a minute before he could answer anything. "You're Slade, AKA Deathstroke. A deadly assassin turned crime lord after moving to Jump City."

"Accurate, polite, but not what I was looking for." Robin closed his eyes expecting another jolt but received nothing. Being truthful seemed to be enough this time around. "Third time may be the charm."

Robin felt the floor vibrate slightly as Slade knelt before the teen. He reached down and lifted Robin's head, forcing him to look into Slade's eye. "Tell me, my apprentice. Who am I?"

Robin still panted, sweating what little liquids he had left in him as he looked into that one cold eye. What did Slade want him to say? What did this deranged man want from him? Respect, loyalty, trust, the man never would earn that from him. He'd never be his mentor, never be his… It hit him, what Slade wanted him to say. Robin wouldn't say it.

"Well?"

Robin glared defiantly as an answer. Slade wasn't pleased and another jolt coursed through Robin's body. He panted again, shivering from the pain and cold sweat he gained with each fresh wave of pain. "Tell me, who is your master?"

Robin refused to speak. Another jolt ran through him. "Who is your master?"

Robin said nothing. Only a more powerful jolt made him scream.

"Do I have to remind you who will suffer more for your insolence?"

His eyes opened wide in horror. Would Slade really hurt someone from the circus for not calling him that? A saddening fear forced him to shake his head slightly. Slade still propped his head up to face him. He could almost hear the man smile.

"Now, who is in charge here?"

"…you are…" his voice was a whisper, barely audible to humans.

"What was that?"

"You are." It was louder this time, but still filled with defeat.

"And what am I?" As always Slade's tone was calm and collective. That was what made him just as crazy as the Joker.

Robin gritted his teeth before answering. "Master."

Slade wasn't pleased by his tone. "A bit more respectful young apprentice."

"Master." He couldn't hide his distaste from calling the man that. He felt like a slave saying that word. But that's what he basically was. In Slade's mind, apprentice was a slave who did more delicate tasks.

Slade must have smiled, pleased. He took his hand off the collar's remote for a moment even. He released Robin's face, patting him gently on the cheek. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it apprentice?"

Robin closed his eyes on the floor. He remembered a discussion he once had with Slade and prayed he never would bring that up again. Slaves escaped masters, were freed, traded, bought and sold. One day Robin would he freed too. So calling the man 'Master' was to humor him, nothing else. 'Master' meant nothing. So long as it wasn't—

"And what else am I?"

His eyes widened, starting at the floor. 'No,' dread filled his thoughts, 'he remembered.'

Slade lifted Robin's head again. "What else am I apprentice?"

His face didn't move. He didn't flinch. He didn't glare and he didn't pout. He forced his face still, no emotion. Slade shook his head slightly as if to wake him. "Well? I'm waiting. What else am I apprentice?"

Robin saw the hand going to the collar's control. He took a breath. "Master," he repeated, a bit of a plea in his voice. Maybe if he said it enough times, Slade would forget about the other title.

"Yes, but besides that. What else am I?"

'No,' he thought desperately. 'I won't say it. I can't say it.' He never even said it to Bruce, and he earned it.

When it was clear Robin would say nothing, Slade activated the collar again. He jolted and twisted out of Slade's grip as the shocks threw him back to the floor. It lasted longer than the others, or only seemed that way because he was fighting it more. It only stopped for a moment when Slade asked again.

"What am I?"

Robin hardly had the energy to answer. "Master."

"What else?"

No reply.

The collar went off again. Robin twitched violently, unable to scream or relieve the pain in any way. Somehow he ended up on his back. Slade loomed over him, looking far more sinister than he should. Tears formed because of the pain, blurring the boy's vision. "What am I?"

"Master," he answered weakly.

"What else?" Robin said nothing. The collar cast its spell again and the pain took control of the boy's body. "What am I Robin? Who am I to you?"

"Master," was all he would answer. He repeated it several times as his mind started to fade into the darkness. Electricity ran through his body repeatedly when Slade demanded the one title he would never receive from the boy.

Robin would never call Slade 'Father'.


A/N: yes, an apprentice ep reference everyone loves. I really think calling someone master when they have something hanging over them isn't that bad. But I don't even call my dad 'Father'. To me calling someone that is an extreme amount of respect. Dad is the friendly guy you introduce people you like to. Father's the one you hope doesn't scare your date too badly. just the way I think things.

Sorry for all the fluff moments! but really, when a person's in pain, lonely and scared, it's a natural defense mechanism to think about safety and good times. Even thinking about similar painful times you've survived is natural. My mind tends to lean towards fantasies or stories when that happens.

Yes, Slade is pretty evil here. I know he's not quite right, but as I've said before, I suck with bad guys. If I could rewrite the Batfam's history, you'd see less fights and more family drama floating in between the battles. I'll torture characters, but torture and fight scenes are harder than they look for me.