A/N: Happy B-day Emomanga (February 20)!

This is a sequel of "The Dark Bird", drabble 136 in this collection(That means the Black Robin universe, as I like to call it, just to confuse the hell out of people… ;) ) This story is in two parts, though, and the next part will be posted in a few days, exactly when you'll see in the bottom A/N. Read "The Dark Bird" before you read this, please.

Warnings? Ummm… well, there's some violence… but it's all in good fun!

The Trial of Fledglings, part one: Finally!

"These things are stupid!" Robin snorted and threw the gun down. It promptly went off and almost made Slade's right foot toe-less.

"You do not throw guns!" the man barked.

"I know! They are useless! I want to go back to my knives!" Robin complained.

"You should learn to shoot. In an emergency-"

"In an emergency I can't hit a target made off paper with this thing, how the hell am I supposed to hit someone who's moving?" Robin asked.

"By practicing!"

"I don't like the sound," the teen pouted. "It hurts my ears…"

Slade looked like he wanted to use the gun he now had picked up on Robin, but then took a deep breath and pushed the weapon back into the teen's unwilling hands.

"Again. You have just earned yourself one more hour of shooting-practice."

"But Slade!"

"It's 'Master' to you," the man smirked and turned the teen firmly around by his shoulders so he faced the mostly unscathed paper human outline. "And unless I don't see some hits within the next ten minutes our trip is off."

"But-!"

"I can't bring an apprentice on a mission unless he's ready. And if you can't handle a gun when you have to, you're not."

It was Robin's turn to sigh and then raise his hands slowly, trying to mimic the pose Slade had taught him and make sure the gun didn't waver. He squeezed the trigger until there was a loud crack which made him flinch as the weapon went off. He opened his eyes and took a look. The paper-man didn't sport any new holes.

"Fuck!"

It was going to be a long day.

Robin craned his neck back to look up at the immense hulk of a man, who was as wide all over as a narrow alley.

"Um… Slade?"

"Yes?"

"I want a gun."

"Now you do, do you? But no, no weapons. You are not even allowed to use anything you find around here," Slade said. "This is purely hand-to-hand."

Robin glanced around. They were in an empty underground garage, and he doubted he would find a chainsaw lying around, and it would take one against this mountain of flesh, he was sure.

"But it's stupid!" Robin objected, as the giant of a man grinned, or at least stretched his mouth. "I would never go after someone like this unarmed!"

"Of course not. But this is not an assassination exercise, it's a defense one, and you never know when you will find yourself without weapons. Just remember what I have taught you."

"Yes, Sir…" Robin said dejectedly.

"Hey, Deathstroke," the target rumbled. "It's two thousand when I kill the shrimp, right?"

"As promised," Slade said evenly. He didn't like being questioned.

"He gets two thousand? What do I get?" the teen asked.

"Lucky."

"Oh…. okay!" Robin brightened up. Money was only money after all…

"I want half now!" the giant demanded. "I don't trust you weirdoes."

"As you wish," Slade nodded and pulled out a wad of one hundred dollar bills and counted out ten of them before handing them to the man who stuffed the bills down a pocket.

"Can I have half now as well?" Robin snickered, but was silenced by a look from his masked Master. "Sorry."

"I have more things planned for tonight so you should get started," Slade said and moved away to lean against a pillar and watch the massacre.

Robin eyed his opponent. He was just a bouncer they had approached outside a club, but he was known for having knocked quite a few skulls in and Robin didn't think he just relied on his size to do it. There must be some skill there, but how much of it he didn't know.

"Come here and let me snap that little neck of yours," the man grumbled and rushed forwards. Robin stepped to the side and couldn't help but utter an "Olé!"

"Focus, Robin," Slade barked at him for that.

The teen snorted but did as the man said. He wouldn't be able to take this one down with a single strike; that much was clear. Slade had taught him all about pressure points and the weakest parts of the human anatomy, but the man was protected by a thick layer of fat as well as muscle. Well, little by little got the job done as well.

As the man reached out for him next, Robin aimed a punch at his open fingers pushing them back until he heard a reassuring crack as well as a howl from the man. He moved quickly while the pain was distracting the guy and kicked a specific spot on the other's ankle.

He grinned as he heard another curse of pain, but suddenly a fist the size of a ham landed on his back before he was able to get out of reach again. Robin slammed into the concrete floor and lost his breath for a moment. He didn't let that stop him from rolling over, however, only to be met by the sight of the man's raised foot.

"I'm gonna crush you, you little shrimp!"

"You , sir, have a strange obsession with sea food," the teen replied.

The move left the man's crotch unprotected, but Robin chose another path and grabbed the foot instead. It was the one with the injured ankle and a quick twist had the bone broken clean off.

The man howled and hobbled back. Robin was quickly up on his feet again.

"Shrimp power!" he grinned. "At least I don't smell like a month old batch of them…"

He attacked, kicking the knee of the man's previously unharmed leg, and his opponent crashed to the ground.

"I guess it's true… the bigger they are…" the teen said, and, after a jump landed on the bouncer's chest, "…the longer it takes for them to decompose." He kicked down on the man's fat neck and, after a shudder, he lay still. Robin jumped off his victim and turned to Slade.

"Points, Master?"

"Six."

"Six? Out of ten? He weighed ten times as much as me, at least!" Robin objected.

"Keep more focus on fighting and less on making jokes and your score will improve. Besides, you didn't see that punch; you underestimated how quick he could be. And why didn't you just kick him in the nuts when you had the chance?"

"Pfftt… Please, Slade," Robin scoffed as he dusted himself off. "He wasn't that good. I didn't need that kind of move to beat him."

"Ah well…" his mentor said thoughtfully. "Seven points, then. But aren't you forgetting something?" he asked as Robin started to walk away.

"What? Oh, right… sorry Master," the teen said and hurried back to the corpse. He dug through the right pocket and pulled out Slade's money. As he handed the bills back he glanced at the dead man. "Should I check his wallet too?"

"Robin, we're not petty thieves. This money, however, is mine, since he didn't win the bet."

"I did, though!" Robin leered, his award obviously on his mind.

"You only have one thing on your mind, don't you?" the man chuckled.

"Yeah, but I'd rather have it in my-" Robin snickered, but was cut off by a gesture from the man.

"We're still training, save those thoughts for the bedroom."

The apprentice sighed but nodded. He wanted to go back to the apartment right now!

Robin was trying not to skip along as he followed Slade. They were going to meet a client! Their first client! Well, not really, as they both had had more of them than they could count, but this was their first one together. It was going to be a big mission, he thought, and out of Gotham! He was going to get to play with the big boys… although the only big boy he was interested in playing with…

"Take your hand out of my pocket," Slade ordered.

"Aw… I just wanted to see if I could reach-"

"No."

Robin huffed. He was serious about his job as well, but this serious? All the time? It was inhuman!

The client of theirs wasn't based in Gotham but had agreed to come here for the meeting, which was a sign of Slade's importance. Robin wondered if people would travel across the continent to come and see him one day, and got lost in a little day-dream as they entered the hotel and rode the elevator up to the tenth floor.

The door was opened by some minion or other, Robin could spot those people a mile away.

"Ah, Deathstroke, right on time." a tall, thin, older man said as he rose from a stuffed chair to greet them.

"Of course."

"And what's this? Did some of your wild oats make a reappearance?" the man smiled thinly as his eyes landed on Robin.

The teen didn't know whether to feel proud that someone thought he was Slade's son, or be weirded out by it, considering that some of the things they were doing were not very father-son-oriented.

"This is Black Robin, my apprentice. He will assist me on this mission, with your permission of course."

Robin felt the man's calculating eyes evaluate him, and straightened up.

"I trust your judgment, Deathstroke… and he might actually come in handy."

"I'm sure he will. Robin, this is Brother Blood," Slade introduced them.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir," Robin nodded, and he was very sincere. He could have hugged the man. Their first client! He clamped down on the resurfacing excitement as he didn't want to seem like a total newbie.

Brother Blood gestured at another chair and Slade sat down while Robin, who hadn't been offered a seat, remained standing by his side.

"So. Tell me about the mission," the teen's Master said, leaning back. Robin briefly wondered what would happen if he sat down in the man's lap, but decided against finding out.

"I want something stolen," the client started and Robin crinkled his nose.

"Then hire a thief," Slade told him.

"It' is not so simple. What I want is blueprints, and they are inside a living human being. Well. Half human, A cyborg."

"Cool," Robin breathed. Slade gave him a cool glare through his mask and the teen ducked his head.

"Well, at least that's somewhat interesting. So what part are the blueprints stored in? Will it be enough to bring you its head?"

"This is where it gets delicate. I don't want this cyborg damaged; in fact I'd rather he didn't know the blueprints were stolen…"

"So what are you going to do with them?" Robin asked.

"Drop and give me fifty," Slade barked.

"wha-?"

"Seventy five!"

Robin immediately got down on his hands and toes, and started doing pushups, counting them quietly under his breath. He had no idea why Slade was punishing him, but he had learned not to question the man. His Master would explain it to him later, he always did.

"I apologize," Slade said to Brother Blood.

"I have some experience with students, no offence taken. I recommend mind-control, though, it's rather effective."

Slade just made a humming noise and the conversation continued. Robin tried to focus on both the counting and the facts, because he knew that Slade expected him to listen, and the man didn't like repeating himself.

"Where is this cyborg located?" Slade asked.

"Jump City, California," the client let him know.

"Ah, I thought so. The Teen Titans?"

Robin's ears perked up. He had heard about these heroes, but only fleetingly. Teens on the other side of the continent didn't worry the underbelly of Gotham, after all.

"Quite right."

"Well, I think that you were correct, Robin will come in handy, I'm sure."

The teen grinned proudly; he was sure as hell going to do his best!

"Robin?"

"Yes Master?" the teen asked, his breath coming a little quicker from the exercise.

"You lost count, you're on eighty three."

"Sorry, Master."

"You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah… again, Master?"

"Again."

"Yes, Sir," Robin lowered himself down. "One."

"On your fingertips, this time."

"Yes, Sir." the teen said and started over.

Robin's arms and shoulders were quite sore when they left the hotel, but there was nothing wrong with his mood. He still wondered about the punishment, though, but Slade explained it to him in the car back to their apartment.

"You never, ever ask why. You don't question your client, especially not as an apprentice," the man told him.

"Oh," Robin nodded. He never did that usually, but his clients so far had mostly wanted people dead and most of them were eager to explain the reason behind it, which made it all very clear. "But... what if he plans to take over the world or something? I mean… like destroying it? Some of these people are mad… like the Joker… I don't ever want to work for him."

"You still don't question. You can choose not to accept the assignment, of course, if it seems to threaten your own interests. I wouldn't get plutonium for someone who I thought would use it in the US, for example, but if they planned to drop a bomb on Paris? I couldn't care less."

"My Master the patriot," Robin grinned.

"Your Master with no holdings in Paris," Slade smirked. "Well… valuable ones, anyway."

Robin chuckled and then touched the man's arm.

"I'm sorry, Slade. I was just curious. It won't happen again."

"Good boy. Feel free to question me, however. If you don't understand why I make a certain decision you won't learn. But do it in private."

"Speaking about doing things in private?" Robin asked hopefully but then sighed. "Sorry… one track mind again…"

"I take a certain pride in keeping it on that track…" the man chuckled. "Just wait until we get home."

Robin grinned widely. Slade was not only his hero, he was the best Master ever, and he didn't regret being the man's apprentice for a second, no matter how much the man made him work for it. The man could be a bit set in his ways, sure, but Robin thought he would get him to loosen up a little eventually. Take their sleeping arrangements, for example. The man had put a cot for him in his office, stating very clearly that they were teacher and student, not lovers, but when Robin felt like it he usually could get away with sneaking into the man's bed late at night.

He generally agreed with the 'not lovers' thing, though… he adored the man and would happily just stay in bed and worship his body for the rest of his life, but that didn't mean he wanted to be the guy's wife. He has seen enough of simpering, femme-acting 'subs' outside the clubs to know that he sure as hell wasn't one of them. He was as tough as Slade, thank you very much, and if anyone, even Deathstroke himself, called him 'his bitch' they would pay.

Back at the apartment Slade, the bastard, immersed himself in work, but Robin had his own things to do. He went out to pick up his new ID, passport and papers, or rather passports and IDs, plural. The one he would primarily use had his own name, Richard Grayson, but even that felt unfamiliar. He was 'Robin' in his own mind, and had been for quite a while. When he got back Slade was just putting a stack of papers down on the coffee table.

"What's that?" the teen asked curiously.

"Your homework," the man answered.

"Aw… more?" Robin groaned. He had had a German test the other day.

"Yes and this is for the mission, so I want you to read it carefully."

"Yes, Sir," Robin nodded and sat down on the couch. "So… do you have a plan?"

"Yes."

"Um… I don't mean to be a pain in the ass here…" the teen started and Slade gave him a look as if to say 'you're rather good at it for not even trying', "…but if you already know what we should do, can't you just tell me?"

"What do you know of the Teen Titans?" Slade asked.

"Umm… not much. They are good guys. Live in this Jump-place…"

"How many of them are there?"

"Ummm… don't know… like… five?"

"Lucky guess." The man reached for the top pages of the pile and put the first one on the table in front of Robin. It was of a photo of a teen round Robin's age with short red hair and a bow in his hands.

"He's cute," Robin grinned.

"This is Speedy, the leader of the Teen Titans. Human. Taught by Green Arrow. With his bow he's lethal but he's very good at hand-to hand combat as well. His arrows range from regular ones to explosives, to glue, to… more or less anything. Just don't get hit, but if he's aiming at you, you are likely to." Another photo was slapped onto the table, this one of a pale, serious looking girl with a bob-cut.

"Raven. Half demon. Magic user, empath, can lift and throw objects with her powers, including levitating herself and also open portals to go through solid objects like walls. Very powerful and potentially very dangerous."

"Pfft... looks emo…" Robin snorted and got a cuff on the back of his head for that comment.

"I hope you heard me when I said 'dangerous'?" Slade scolded him and put a third picture down beside the others.

"Wow, Terminator wanna-be much?" Robin whistled under his breath.

"This is Cyborg, our primary target. Originally human, but rebuilt by his father after an accident. He has sonic canons, scanners and a lot of hardware and software to cause all kinds of problems if he's confronted." the next picture showed a green-skinned younger teen. "Beast Boy, born human, but received his powers through an untested serum as a child. Can change into any animal shape he has seen, including extinct and mythological animals," Slade spread out a number of photos no, depicting the teen as a tyrannosaur, a sasquatch and a tiger.

"Wooow… so cool…" Robin whispered.

"Last but not least, Starfire," Slade went on, adding the last picture to the spread. "Alien, from the planet Tamaran. She is very strong, she can fly and shoot energy blasts from her eyes and hands."

"Tough broad," Robin shrugged. "So… these are the Titans, then?"

"Yes, and not only that," Slade said and gestured to the photos. "Robin, meet your new best friends."

Robin was still stunned the next day when he was sent out with only an address scribbled on a piece of paper where he was supposed to find someone who could make him a hero-costume. It was the same person who had made what he was currently wearing, a very nice outfit in mainly black with a red stylized bird on his chest. Slade had given it to him only a few days after he had happily agreed to be his apprentice, saying that he couldn't possibly wear the threads he used to if he was going to work for him.

A few hours later he was back, carrying a package.

"That was quick," Slade remarked.

"Oh, this is just an extra one of mine, the hero-stuff will be done tomorrow. You could have warned me it was a she, though…"

"Why?"

"Because it's pretty embarrassing being measured everywhere half naked!" Robin growled.

"Heh… the shameless old bag. She already had all your measurements, Robin. How else could she have made what you are wearing?"

"That HAG! Can we kill her? Please?"

"No. She's useful. We're not killing useful people because they embarrass us, if so I would have had to do away with you after the Brother Blood meeting…"

Robin blushed and clenched his teeth. He perked up a little at the man's next words, though.

"Here. A present for you. Your new weapon."

Robin caught the thing as it was thrown at him and looked a bit disappointed.

"A stick?"

"It's extendable," Slade said dryly.

"Yeah?" Robin said and did so, now holding a slim, metal staff. "It's still a stick."

"It's a bo-staff. You know this, Robin, we have been practicing with them, after all, and we will do more so in the next week."

"But I want my knives! Why won't you ever just let me have my knives?" Robin complained.

"This is your hero-weapon. But you will have throwing-knives too, the bird-shaped ones you like, but-" Slade raised a finger at Robin's happy expressions, "a hero seldom uses sharp weapons, remember that."

"Why don't they?" the teen asked.

"Because they are stupid," the man let him know.

"This is your costume?" Slade asked as he stared at Robin.

"Yeah? What's wrong with it?"

"Isn't it a little… loud?"

"Hey, it's based on my circus-costume, okay? Heroes are colorful!"

"And the cape?"

"Heroes have capes!"

"Yes, at least you got that right… what about the 'R' on your chest? Is that there if you forget who you are?"

"Very funny," Robin muttered. "So you're saying I should get something else?"

"I'm saying it looks absolutely ridiculous… which means it's perfect," Slade smirked. "Apart from one thing…"

"What?"

"You have to get full-length tights… you look too fuckable in those shorts."

"Okay…"

"But don't throw them away," Slade leered.

"Okay, I won't," Robin grinned. "Well… I guess I have to continue studying now…"

"Yes… in about half an hour. Bedroom. Now."

The week passed quickly for Robin as he read up on the Titans and helped prepare everything for the trip. It was strange trying to learn about people without intending to kill them, and he had to constantly remind himself not to look for weaknesses when he watched news-footage of the group fighting. His workouts with Slade had kicked up a notch too, but now it was all aimed at him not killing his opponent which, to Robin, just seemed wrong.

Getting on a plane for the first time was a bit scary, which Robin tried very hard to hide, of course.

He was looking out of the window as Gotham disappeared below him and felt his stomach drop a little from more than the anxiety.

"Will we be coming back to Gotham soon?" he asked Slade, who was reading a paper in the next seat.

"Why, you miss it already?"

"Um… well…" the teen shrugged. "It's just… I guess it's my home, so it's special, right?"

"Right. Well, I'm sure we'll get work there again, but, trust me, you will find other places you like…" the man smirked.

"Yuck, I hate this place!" Robin growled as they stood on a roof and looked out over Jump City. "It's too bright and the buildings are too low, and what's with this heat?"

"Get used to it," Slade chuckled.

"And I don't understand why we have to have separate apartments!" the teen complained some more. He felt he was entitled. He had gotten a bit airsick and felt grumpy.

"My flat and your studio-apartment are right next to each other. You have to have a place of your own if you should be followed."

"It's almost as crappy as my old place," the teen still pouted.

"Of course it is. They would question how you could afford it if it wasn't."

"What? I'm a hero, right? Why wouldn't I have money?"

"Because heroes don't exactly get paid."

"Oh, my god, you're right, they are stupid!" Robin gaped. "So how do they afford all the gadgets and stuff?"

"You actually thought they got paid?" Slade asked, looking a bit stunned. "Did you ever see Batman with a salary-check?"

"No, but I figured those kinds of things were taken care of behind closed doors, you know? Like Commissioner Gordon or the Mayor or someone slipping him a couple of hundred for saving the day… or like a commission for how many baddies he caught… something like that."

"Interesting idea…"

"So, where do all their stuff come from?"

"Oh, there are ways around actually getting paid to be a hero, like donations… Many have a job out of costume, and some, like Batman, are actually millionaires."

"Batman's a millionaire? Wow, had I known that I might have joined him…" Robin stared out at the irritatingly blue ocean and burst out laughing. "Can you picture me in my green tights being Batman's sidekick? I'd be all 'I'll save you, Batman!' and probably have some lame catchphrase like 'heavenly clues, Batman!' and be known as 'Robin, the Wonder Kid'…"

"That sounds pretty… preposterous…" Slade agreed. "Well, are you ready?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm so ready for this hero-crap, don't worry."

"Good. Although try to remembered that heroes seldom use the word 'crap'."

"Oh, fuck, you're right… sorry."

"Robin…" Slade didn't have to point out where he had slipped up this time, as Robin realized it himself.

"Shit."

To Be Continued… on the 29'th of February (should be drabble 144)

A/N: I hope you liked it! Robin as a totally devoted apprentice is fun to write… He's deadly and has no scruples, but I'm letting him have this bright, light personality too, both for the contrast and because he's funnier to write… otherwise he would be too much like Slade and both of them being completely serious all the time would be a yawn-fest… to me, anyway…

Some other drabbles are coming up before the second part of this one, so I hope you enjoy those too, and please review!

Oh, and I've recently, years behind the rest of the worlds, started playing "the Sims"… "The Sims 3" to be exact… and mine are, of course, a married Slade and Robin… -grin- very fun, most of the time… ;)