Author's note: Reader's who don't already know. Wintergreen is Slade's butler. He is to Slade what Alfred is to Batman, relatively. He has some elaborate history that I could go into, but you don't need to know all that, and if you do, then wikipedia will help you out. He was shown at least once in the cartoon. Slade was angry so he smashed a teacup and then Wintergreen came out (un-named) and swept up the broken porcelain. That is all!
………………………..
Slade is vexed, infinitely. He had other more important projects to be working on; ones he did not dare mention to the voice on the other side the phone.
"You won't have any problems upholding your end of the contract?" The smug voice said over the headset, Slade could detect supreme satisfaction in the man's voice.
"No, Lex, I won't" Slade replied. What else could he reply. His Sladebot manufacturing facilities couldn't be bought, not at any price. Not by Slade anyway. Luther did not have such limitations. Some obligations are more important then his current preoccupation.
He spends the rest of the day setting elaborate automated notifications on his current surveillance project, Tim Drake. No longer satisfied with Batman's stolen video, he has tapped into the live feed. It took some serious hacking and a brief visit to simply go out and manually splice a few wires, but he now had live, twenty four seven access to Batman's well planted surveillance cameras at Spitzer Psychiatric Facility. More then that actually, though Tim Drake hardly knows to thank him, he's been making judicious use of well edited video loops to give Batman the joyful impression that Tim was a happy and well adjusted recovering teen. He can only hope Tim doesn't do anything too brash while Slade's gone.
Lex's project takes longer then expected. Most unfortunate and grisly business; but better still, to nip these up and coming Costumes in the bud before they make a ruckus. The kid had some talent, shame he had to waste it trying to take on Luther. Under more ideal circumstances, Slade might have played some bait and switch, drawn out the game to see what the kid was really up for. When Slade is certain no one would find the remains, much less trace the deed back to its originators, he can leave. Return to his makeshift base, he has other, more permanent housing being prepared, he trusts Wintergreen to handle that. His plane is only just taking off when his system sends the alert. Tim has begun to move.
He curses silently. If only the damn kid could have waited a day longer. When he lands, it's already too late. The kid is gone. Slade reviews the last few days of events at Spitzer and deciphers the circumstances. Tim left for a girl, how unoriginal. Still, Slade's not going to judge a teenager for his hormones.
Words can not describe his irritation. He leaves for four days and all hell breaks loose. Batman knows too, if he could have kept this hushed from him, it would have been salvageable. He has to find the kid before the Bat or not at all.
He sets up search perimeters in the most logical manner. There is an ever expanding range of locations they could have reached by personal vehicle in the time since Tim's escape. Within those limitations, he acquires access to as many surveillance systems and local news videos as possible, using facial reorganization software and certain keywords to search for anything of interest. He taps local law enforcement resources to obtain any information available on vehicles matching the description of hers.
He would have figured the kid to head to nearest city, but evidence does not support that theory. Something odd about the girl too it appears, possible meta powers, data is inconclusive. It takes his net almost 12 hour to get a hit.
Local law enforcement was in pursuit of her vehicle on Interstate 80 west of Columbus, the girl was driving, she had a passenger, dark haired male, Tim; presumably. It takes him twenty minutes to reach the location by personal jet. He waits for law enforcement to make the capture or lose them. He does not expect the girl to swerve off the road. To hit the concrete pillar. He does not expect to see the car erupt in flames, with the two occupants still inside. He had plans. Big plans, plans that went nothing like this.
Slade didn't think it was possible for his mood to get any worse.
He needs to cut his loses; there was equipment he had purchased for this. He needs to call Wintergreen and let him know that plans have changed. He needs to do quite a few things. He needs to get some sleep; it's been days since he's slept properly, everything can wait until morning. He returns to his base, he does not stop to reminisce about today's fiasco.
Time, nor sleep does nothing to improve his mood, he awakens several hours later still quite agitated at the dismal failure of his project.
When he finally goes to his central workstation, he is….
He is astounded.
He had not deactivated his search net after he had left to intercept Tim last night. It had caught her car; there had been a boy in it who roughly matched Tim's description. Slade rarely makes assumptions, but at the time, it had been a safe assumption that Tim was the passenger in the now destroyed Buick.
Nonetheless Tim had been spotted less then 4 hours ago outside Peoria, Illinois. Video surveillance showed him climbing into a courier van at an interstate rest area. North bound.
Tim was alive and well, and headed to Chicago.
Slade wasted no time. He traveled to Chicago immediately. He set up his own makeshift base of operations in an abandoned office complex, he scattered video cameras across the city, and he connected them all to a nexus of computers.
He patrolled, but discreetly. If the Bat did not know the kid was here, Slade had no reason to draw attention to the situation.
The first time he caught the kid on camera he grinned behind his mask. The kid had fashioned a grapple, he was staying to the rooftops, once a Robin, always a Robin. Time to track down this bird once and for all.
Three nights later he has him.
The kid automatically fades into the shadows. He still has the training, and the habits. Good.
"Robin" Slade says. Or rather, he purrs. He knows how Robins are; they react well to certain audio cues.
"I thought I told you" the kid's voice is still harsh from the Joker's rough handling, "I'm not Robin anymore"
Heaven and hell couldn't have made Dick say that when he was this kid's age. Slade can see the kid in his shadow; his wild blue eyes glance at the sladebots arriving on the roof behind Slade, his stance adjusts. Slade can see the fight or flight response the kid was preparing, his eyes give everything away. Magnificent.
"I can work with that" Slade replies as he approaches the boy's shadow.
"Dick send you again?" Tim asks, but Slade can see that his body language already says he doesn't believe it.
Slade thinks this is going quite well, Tim is reacting entirely as planned, right down to the fist that swings at Slade with well placed accuracy and force. Months on the shelf had done little to dull the kid's talent. Slade was still able to easily dodge.
The fist was just the diversion. The kid takes off running full throttle, he is swinging the grapple and leaping before he could know it's secure. It's a leap the kid must have made a hundred times before, to trust his skill so completely. Slade is delighted. Nothing invigorates like a game of cat and bird.
He gives chase. The kid had studied this skyline, he moved quickly, but his equipment was not the match for Slade's the grapple had to be rewound by hand, and the kid could not move fast enough. Slade could have used the sladebots at any time, but he did not necessarily want this encounter to come to blows. Yet.
"I don't think you have the right equipment for this game Tim" Slade says. He is not even winded from the chase. The kid is panting heavily already. Regular and vigorous exercise would fix that.
Slade reaches into his belt and pulls a spare line launcher. "Here kid, a gift", and he slides it across the rooftop. The kid stares at it for a minute before picking it, examining it briefly. When he looks up Slade can see the desperation and relief in his blue eyes. He holds the line launcher close to his chest, like a safety blanket.
"What do you want?" the kid pants, confusion evident in his voice.
"I'm trying to be as obvious as I can about that, I want you Tim" when Slade approaches him, the kid sidles towards the edge of the roof, line launcher clutched to his heart. But he doesn't fire it.
Arms locked behind his back for dramatic pose, Slade stops in front of the kid. "I want an apprentice" he says.
The kid eyes the building over, Slade knows the kid could find the anchor spots on it blindly, he can see the kid weighing the options of flight.
"What's in it for me?" the kid asks.
"Flight, freedom, the sky is the limit" Slade bends to look the kid directly in the eye. The kid hasn't had the best access to hygiene lately, but Slade ignores that. Such bright blue eyes, they hide nothing. He wears his thoughts naked without the mask; Slade can see why Batman hid those eyes. The kid is seriously considering the offer.
"No needles, no drugs, no cameras in my room" Tim says. His wide blue eyes level intently on Slade's one grey eye. Batman had really played a number on this kid.
"Deal" Slade stands abruptly and turns his back on the kid "this way" he says, as he fires his own line, the kid already has the necessary equipment to follow.
Slade leads the way across town to an industrial warehouse district. To the abandoned office complex he had taken over. The kid follows, he talks less then Dick used to, he doesn't say anything on the trip.
When they arrive Slade points him to the bathroom, the shower is already stocked with soap and shampoo. Tosses him a sack of nondescript clothing. They won't stay here long. Slade knew better then to keep the kid stateside. He would train him overseas.
When the kid is clean the food is ready. Nothing fancy, protein, vegetables, starch. A well balanced meal.
While Slade pilots the jet, the kid dozes off in the passenger seat, still clutching the line launcher.
They barely exchanged a dozen words since the rooftop.
