A/N:

What's this? A drabble? Now? That's probably what those of you reading the Peace Contract are thinking, since I have stated that I only have time for weekly updates on that one… yes, well… it's just that this story is SHORT and it has been ready in my head for a while… so I just had to type it… consider it a very small weekend gift.

Someone, but unfortunately I have cleaned out my mailbox again and can't for SURE remember who, suggested a storyline like this… she wanted me write about what might have happened if Slade was the one who got Robin after his parent's were killed… well, it HAS been done, but, in my opinion, the whole hero-complex thing is one of the most interesting assets Robin has, and he would not have that being raised by Slade… so I put a spin on it… hope you like…

Oh, no slash, naturally! Robin is eight, god-damnit…

Beginnings

Slade waited patiently inside the alley, as quiet and invisible as a shadow. When his prey walked by he took a quick step out, made sure no one was in sight, and grabbed the man, dragging him quickly into the darkness. The rather stout older man never had time to open his mouth, before a dagger was thrust into his neck, making all sounds impossible.

The man died quickly, and Slade calmly cleaned the blade on his target's clothes, before sheeting it.

Suddenly, the smallest of noises alerted the man to a couple of boxes at the far end of the alley. Rats? A cat? Slade's fine-tuned senses told him that it was something more dangerous, and he soundlessly crept closer, cursing himself. He had surveyed the alley from the roof for an hour before coming down, but he hadn't bothered to check out the small pile of junk. A pile that now moved and suddenly grew two very large, frightened blue eyes. Slade cursed again. A kid! Well, there was nothing to do…. He wore his two-colored hood and any child would remember it, especially when the man wearing it had just killed someone in front of their eyes. He couldn't leave any witnesses behind. He was in Gotham only for a few days, and didn't want to draw attention to himself. He moved closer.

Slade expected the boy to scream and try to run… he didn't expect him to leap up, flip through the air and climb a fire escape like a squirrel. Slade was hot on his heels, though, and as they both landed on the roof, he got hold of the boy's thin, grey, hooded jacket. The kid pulled out of it, ripping the jacket in the process, and quickly rolled away. As he came up on his feet, he spun around, and the two males stood eyeing each other for a moment.

The jacket had hidden some rather garish clothes, and Slade remembered a bit of news he had picked up.

"You're the circus-brat." Slade growled. The whole damn town was looking for this kid! He had supposedly watched his parents fall to their deaths and soon after he had disappeared. The police and Batman were some of the good guys that were looking… unfortunately for the kid a lot of the other kind were searching too. 'The Boss' Zucco thought the kid might have seen something and had reward out. Too small for Slade to care about, though… let the one who finds the kid's body cash in… Others were looking too. Predators. Slave dealers. It was amazing that the kid had stayed hidden for almost a week.

The boy flinched and looked, if possible, even more afraid as he realized that the man knew who he was. Still, there was something close to pride in his eyes.

"No, I'm not! And it's artist, not brat…"

A police siren a few blocks away made the boy jump slightly, but Slade was surprised as the brat took a step away from the sound instead of towards it.

"In trouble with the law already?" the man smirked.

"No!" the boy snarled back. "It's just… they are gonna put me in a home…"

You wish… sorry, little man, but they are going to put you in a coffin… Slade thought and carefully let a throwing-knife slid into his hand from its sheath on his wrist. A swift throw and the dagger were flying towards the boy's chest. Slade was almost on the verge of turning away, job done, as the boy, impossibly, caught the projectile in the air and threw it back. Slade, even unprepared, caught it himself and stared at the small boy in front of him. He couldn't be more than eight or nine, and he had not just stood his ground against someone about to kill him, he had done something even rarer: he had impressed Slade.

"Very good, brat." the man purred.

"Thanks. And I'm no brat!" came the simple answer.

"Well, then, what's your name?" Slade hadn't paid enough attention to remember it at the moment… Gray…something…

"Di- Robin." the boy answered, trying hard to look like he hadn't faltered.

"All right, Robin. How come you're so good with knives?"

The boy shrugged.

"I like throwing stuff… the Braun's taught me… it was gonna be my back-up act... before…"

"Thought you said that you weren't from the circus?" Slade chuckled.

"I'm n-!" The boy stopped himself and then blushed a bit. "Well… s'not like you're gonna turn me in, right?"

"Maybe not…" Slade grinned. "Tell me, Robin, are you hungry?"

"Why?" came the haughty reply, but it was greatly marred by a grumbling stomach.

"Come with me, I'll get you something to eat."

"Right, Mister, like I'm stupid! You tried to kill me!"

"I have changed my mind, Robin. But I'll give you a choice… me or the police?"

"Not sure… you a perv?" the boy looked up at him suspiciously.

Slade laughed.

"No. Hurry up and decide. The sirens are getting closer."

They really weren't, but in this town, in this area, there were quite a few emergencies every night. The kid, who had been close to being one of them, hesitantly nodded.

"'kay…"

Slade reached out and grabbed the boy's arm, swinging him up on his back. The kid had to hold on for dear life. Literally. He would probably scare the boy half to death now, but there was no other way. And if he fell? Well… a pity, but one witness less…

"What's a perv, anyway?" The boy on his back sounded curious.

"You don't know?"

"Nah… I'm just supposed to look out for them… No one ever told me what they do!"

"You know what? No one has ever told me either…" the man chuckled.

"People are stupid." the boy muttered, earning another chuckle from the man.

Slade set his sight on the nearest rooftop and started running. For every jump the boy screamed in his ear, but the man soon realized that it wasn't out of fear, it was out of joy. At one point the boy did lose his grip, but caught a pipe, swung around it and came flying through the air at Slade with his hands outstreched. Complete trust. Slade caught him, and, hearing the boy giggle, he wasn't sure that Robin really had slipped.

A little daredevil… the man smirked under his mask.

As they landed on the roof of Slade's hideout, the man let the boy down and the kid hooted with excitement.

"That was so great! I've only done that in the ring before! But out here, in the city! It was like flying for real!"

"Glad I could entertain you." Slade said dryly. "Now, let's get inside."

The boy followed him, still a bit warily, and soon they were in the few inner rooms of the run down building that Slade had turned into a temporary base. A computer, a phone, weapons and a few maps were pretty much it.

The boy looked around and wrinkled his nose.

"Dark." he commented.

"Safe." Slade answered and saw the boy nod thoughtfully. Rather smart kid… with the right education… His thoughts were cut short by the boy's voice.

"So where's the food?"

Slade had only military provisions available, but the boy shoveled down the freeze-dried meal like it was home cooking. Amazing what hunger can do.

"So…" Robin managed between bites. "What's your name?"

"Wilson" Slade answered, since he had a feeling that "Deathstroke" might frighten the boy… or worse: make him laugh.

"And you kill people for money?" the question was as sharp as the blue eyes studying him.

Oh, yes… there's intelligence there all right…

"Why would you say that?" Slade wanted to know.

"Well… like… you didn't take anything, did you? And you were like… quick and quiet."

"Well observed, Robin." Slade nodded. "And you are right. I'm a mercenary and assassin."

"How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much do you cost?"

"You want someone dead?" Slade said, amused. He had a pretty good idea who, though…

"Maybe."

"Two hundred."

The boy looked down on his plate and sighed. "I'll never raise two hundred dollars…" he mumbled.

"Not two hundred dollars…" Slade chuckled. "Two hundred thousand dollars. And that's for an easy, low risk job…"

The boy's eyes grew big. "That much? Just for…?" Robin did a vague gesture across his throat.

"Yes. Interested in that line of work?" Slade smirked, waiting for an outraged denial. Instead there was silence as the boy pondered it.

"Weeeell… not sure… maybe just once."

"So, who do you want to take out a contract on?"

"Contract?" The boy asked, puzzled.

"Kill." Slade explained. "Who?"

"Zucco" the small boy snarled, and Slade clearly heard the lust for revenge in his voice.

"Tony is a dangerous guy, my boy…" Slade warned and Robin tensed.

"You know him?"

"By reputation only."

"Oh." The boy relaxed again "And I'm not your boy."

Really? Well, that might not be such a dumb idea, though… Slade considered.

"So you want revenge for your parents?" he said, not pressing the point.

The expressive eyes filled with tears, and the boy nodded before looking down on his now empty plate. Slade straddled the chair across the table from the mini-avenger and focused his single eye on him.

"Any idea how?"

The boy gaped, not really used to an adult who took him seriously. He squirmed under the intense stare.

"…no…"

"You don't even know how to find him, do you?" Slade asked, not tauntingly but rather gently.

"Yes I do! Been watching him for days!" the boy looked crossed that Slade had supposed that he couldn't find a single man in the vast city.

"You have? And what have you concluded?" Slade could hardly believe that the boy had managed a feat some bounty hunters would have trouble with, but he could see the boy spoke the truth.

Robin sighed. "You talk too posh. I'm eight you know…"

Slade chuckled. "I'm sorry if you didn't understa-"

Robin gestured and shook his head. "I got it… you just talk funny, that's all… my conclusions are that he has too many people around him all the time… and I haven't got any weapons, anyway…"

"Want to borrow a gun?" Slade offered, just to see the reaction on the boy's face.

"Nah… I don't like the sound… but thanks…" Robin looked like he wasn't at all surprised at the offer. Maybe he wasn't… SLade was a killer, after all, of course Robin would think that he had an extra gun or two laying around.

Slade shrugged. "Well, do you want to learn how to fight without weapons?" he asked, deliberately not using the word 'kill', even if that was what he intended to teach the boy.

"You can show me?" hopeful eyes blinked in surprise.

"Sure. I have some time on my hands… if you want to stay for a few days you are welcome. But I warn you, the training will be hard. It might be too tough for you."

The boy snorted. "I'll be the best. I'm always the best. How tough can it be?"

Slade's hidden grin widened. Oh yes, had he found a match or what?

Three days they spent training, and Slade marveled at the boy's potential. Robin had no prior fighting experience, but his acrobatic skills made even the highest kicks easy to learn. On the night of the third day, Slade got a call. Suddenly he had a hard decision to make. He spent some time thinking and then went to find Robin. He was in the small make-shift training room as usual, practicing round-house kicks.

"Robin. Come here." The boy immediately ran towards him, a big smile on his face.

"Did you see? I so got those down!" the boy was dressed in clothes Slade had found in a second hand shop… he had put off buying him anything more, having a feeling that this couldn't last long.

"I saw. Very good, my boy. But I have something important to discuss with you."

"What?" the boy looked worried and Slade placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I got a call. It's work. Two days from now I need to be on the other side of the planet… and I can't bring you with me."

"C-can't I just wait here?"

"No, Robin. This mission might take months, and this is only a temporary base… I might never return here."

"But… but… I thought you liked me? And what about my training? And Zucco?"

"I do like you, my little bird…" Slade chuckled. "And you have great potential… that's why I have a suggestion for you…"

The next night, a black-clad thug broke a window to a jewelry store, practically under the nose of Batman, and the man didn't even grab anything. The dark knight sighed. Petty criminals. Not a brain cell between them. He set off after the offender, who turned out to be surprisingly fast. Just as the bat turned a corner, drawing a grappling hook in the process, he almost stumbled over a small, curled up form. Forgetting all about his prey he stopped and bent down. He couldn't believe it! It was the circus boy he had been looking for all week! Still dressed in a very tattered circus outfit.

Two weeks later…

Robin, or rather, Dick Grayson, stood in a window of Wayne manor, looking out onto the gloomy grounds. He sighed. Wilson had set it all up, and Rob- Dick remembered his every word.

"I'll make sure someone special finds you. He will probably take you to the police, but I bet some rich guy will come for you in the morning. You can trust him… keep an eye on him and you will soon find out his secrets… Impress him like you did with me, and he will be able to continue your training. Maybe then you can get your revenge."

"But what about you?" Dick had said.

"I want you to forget all about me for now… let's keep this a secret, all right?" Dick had nodded reluctantly and pouted. Slade tried to ignore him and continued. "I have saved your uniform, I think you better wear it…" and so the preparations had begun.

Dick had found out Batman's secret rather easily, and Bruce had agreed to train him. He still missed Wilson though, even though the loss of his parents, the trauma from living on the street and then being whisked away to a mansion, made his mind all jumbled up. He already had trouble remembering the man's voice… Sometimes he thought he might have dreamt the whole thing…

Two weeks earlier…

Slade watched Batman kneel down by the little huddled figure, who in a few seconds threw himself around the black knight's neck, crying. Slade knew that at least a few of those tears were for him. He promised himself to keep an eye on his bird. He would come back. In six or seven years this boy might have become one of the best fighters this planet had ever seen… but Bruce could only get him so far. Slade would do the rest. The boy was worth it.

A surge of jealousy hit him as the caped hero lifted the boy up. His boy! Slade clamped down on the emotion, though, and turned around. He had work to do. Scattered mission would no longer cut it. No, not now. Not then he had a future to consider. He had to create a legacy. He had to think bigger. The man smiled as he disappeared into the darkness. He had a feeling it would be a very busy few years.

Epilogue

"Titans, GO!" Robin launched himself after the alluring shadow that so recently had showed up in his city. His team followed suit, but again the blasted man disappeared without a trace. Robin cursed. He couldn't understand why this villain intrigued him so. It was almost like the man reminded him of something… Robin shook his head in frustration. This was beyond annoying! His memory had drawn a blank, and he yet again he was reduced to wonder… who is Slade?

The End.

A/N: Did you like my little "what if?". Hope you did? Review and I might get through the ever lasting packing I have to continue tomorrow… sigh… never move…