That was what the near-silent sound of the window sliding upwards said to Robin before he ignored it and went inside anyway. The house was nice. Not as nice as Bruce's, but close and perhaps that was why Batman's gravelly warnings would not leave his head. It certainly couldn't have been because it was valid or because the Titan leader was crossing a line by breaking into an old man's house, one he had a tentative friendship with, on the smallest of leads.
His friend, the old man he played chess with in the park on Saturdays, was named Slade Wilson. Deathstroke the Terminator, Slade, the man who haunted his nightmares and made Robin doubt his every move also had the same name. Was it a coincidence? He'd seen them both in the same room: he'd helped rescue Mr. Wilson from what the news was calling the Veteran's Day Massacre. A failure on the Titan's part to save the very men who had helped make it so that the Titans could dress up and stop crime.
Mr. Wilson and Slade had been in the same room. Robin, however, had seen Batman and Bruce Wayne in the same room before. It was possible. Which meant that it had to be investigated.
Robin always had a single-minded sort of focus when it came to anything involving his arch nemesis. Which was why his friends always tried to stop him before he did any more stupid things: like harass dock workers, dress up as a villain and try to team up with Slade, get himself high on Slade-dust and chase after figments of his own imagination, break into some innocent man's house because he happened to have the same name as a known mercenary.
Okay, so, the last one was currently happening. He stopped in the dark room, masked eyes scanning for any sign of life, before sneaking out into the hallway. His friends couldn't stop him. They didn't even know where he was. Which was stupid, he knew, but he also just needed to be sure that Mr. Wilson was or wasn't Slade. Convincing his friends of that would have required more questions and explanation than he wanted to do. He'd press the button on his communicator if anything went wrong, anyway. He had fail-safes in place.
The Boy Wonder, of breaking and entering, moved silently down the hallway. His forced mentor was right: Robin made an excellent thief. That wasn't the goal, though. He just wanted to not-find anything Slade related in Mr. Wilson's house.
As Robin passed by, the masked mercenary silently stepped out of the shadows to watch the trespasser. An unseen smile broadened beneath his orange and black mask. What remarkable timing. He had just returned from negotiating the cost of his services when he'd spotted a figure on his security feed. He had come down himself to meet the intruder, already dressed to kill, but he'd changed his mind when he saw who his guest was and so, left the boy to himself while he changed his attire.
"Wintergreen," he said as he approached his butler dressed down in his bathrobe, "help me get my face on?"
The mansion was large, and not sparsely decorated either. A lot of treasures spoke of his personal tastes, his history with travel and his questionable career as a hunter back in a different time, but he was careful not to let his more recent professional life into his personal effects. Let Robin see his exquisite taste in hard liquors, and rifle through his drawers; it wasn't like he had orange and black undergarments to match. Not since the lava incident.
It was by design that he walked into the same room Robin was perusing, cane in hand, and came to a dead stop in the doorway. "What the devil?!" he cried out in surprise. He limped in quickly, trying to draw closer to the shotgun mounted on the wall, his gait broken and crooked. He would have no chance, but what was a poor old, war-broken man to do?
Given time to explore Robin had to admit that Mr. Wilson was a pretty cool guy. There were all sorts of photos of what looked to be safari adventures which made the taxidermy animals a little less creepy. The boy dressed like a traffic light edged past the glassy-eyed stare of a bear as he poked through the drawers. So far there was nothing that pointed to Mr. Wilson being Slade. He'd only been through a couple of rooms, though.
The sound of a limping gait moving through the next room caught the Boy Wonder's attention. He startled, turning towards the noise, only to jump in surprise at the same time Mr. Wilson shouted. Robin saw the man was heading towards the gun mounted on the wall, one that he didn't think was loaded, and quickly lifted his hands up to show empty green palms.
"Mr. Wilson don't shoot!" Robin pleaded, the muscles in his legs tensing just in case he needed to dodge. He wondered if the spike of guilt that stabbed his gut was because he'd been doing something wrong, or because he'd been caught. "It's me. Robin. I'm sorry for startling you! I didn't mean to frighten you."
The armed old man squinted with his one eye, peering into the darkness at a spikey haired silhouette. "Boy?" he questioned in equal parts confusion and suspicion after Robin announced himself. He lowered the shotgun and walked over to an antique desk lamp, turning it on to see him in the light. The warm yellow glow didn't spread far in the room, but he could see the lad clearly.
"It's rather late for a rematch," he grumbled, as he turned to return the shotgun on the wall. "And you'd need a better reason than that to be over unannounced, skulking in my mansion like a thief."
He pinned the young boy wonder with a glare befitting a grumpy old man. "Well?" he questioned as he limped around the seat that divided them to sit with wobbly legs, holding his cane in stubborn refusal to fall back in an un-gentleman like manner. "What have you to say for yourself?"
Robin's face seemed to borrow the color of his uniform shirt. His masked gaze shifted guiltily away from the old man before him, and the Boy Wonder moved uncomfortably for a moment under the glare of the single yellow light. Not to say anything about that single eyed glower. The boy seemed to relax slightly as the gun was put back on the wall, but the way the man moved closer had him moving an anxious step backwards.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, still not sure if it was because he was acting like a criminal or because he'd been caught at it. "I'm not here for a rematch, or to steal anything!" Green gloved hands waved open palms to prove he wasn't hiding any of Mr. Wilson's personal processions in them. "I'm here because I..." he trailed off, shifting awkwardly again, and pulling his cape forward so that it covered the red breast and pulled him back into the shadows in a way his mentor would have approved of.
How on earth do you ask somebody if they're a masked murderer?
"Your name is Slade Wilson," Robin blurted out. The spike of paranoia was enough to bolster his preposterous train of thought enough that he managed to get it out. "Deathstroke the Terminator, Slade," he amended with obvious venom, "is also named Slade Wilson, and you both only have one eye, and you both have a military background, and..." he was speaking fast, stumbling over his own words, and he winced at how stupid he sounded. "I just wanted to make sure that you...weren't." he finished lamely, voice quiet.
So, the little bird finally put two and two together. The cat wasn't out of the bag yet, however. If Robin was absolutely sure, he wouldn't be standing there with his hands up and trying to explain himself--to keep up that good boy persona he clung to dearly. No, if Robin were certain that he was in fact that same man who kept him up at night, he'd have attacked on sight.
"A similarity you weren't the only one that noticed," Slade replied roughly. "Deathstroke the Terminator was part of some secret government initiative, and when he went rogue he wiped all records of himself to protect his identity..."
Not untrue. "Now whether it's self-interest or a vendetta, I don't know, but he targeted those men because they knew the existence of it... and as do I, because you're not the first person to come barging into my life with this same nonsense."
His eye narrowed on Robin. "A man who wants to disappear from record doesn't use his own name, you hear me? And someone who comes up with the name Deathstroke the Terminator isn't exactly what we'd call original. My name quite frankly just sounds better." He gave a proud flourish of his hand before resting it on the head of his cane.
"So, why not look through the military records for a name? We had a lot of Micheals, Davids, Johns, and of course plenty of Dicks. Mark--ooh, now there's a clever name for an assassin." Slade stroked his beard and grinned wryly. "But I imagine, it was our similar mutilations that ah, caught his eye." Said eye crinkled at Robin.
The boy, who was cringing slightly where he stood at his own stupidity, perked up when the man in front of him admitted that Robin wasn't the first to notice. It meant he was on to something, and the information that Mr. Wilson relayed to him could help further his case. The Boy Wonder made a mental note to add that to his file on Slade, and to add the motive for the Veteran's Day massacre into the Titan file on that. Seconds later the widening of his masked eyes made it clear that Robin understood the implications.
Dark spikes bounced with bobble-head precision as Robin nodded that he'd heard the man. He hoped that the darkness hid the color staining his cheeks in embarrassment, but the gruff old man's easy jab at the terrifying mercenary had him feeling slightly better about his own stupidity. At least his name was unique. Ish. The Boy Wonder shot the old man a shy smile.
If the jab at his actual name gave Robin any pause, it barely showed on his face. Instead he considered what Mr. Wilson was telling him thoughtfully, too lost in his own mind to return the smile until the man made a hilarious pun. "Probably," the Boy Wonder agreed exhaling in amusement. He was silent for a moment, still hiding in the blackness of his short cape, before he took a tentative step forward.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you so late, Mr. Wilson, and for uh-" he trailed off, not sure whether to apologize for breaking in or accusing him of being a supervillain first. They were both kind of awful. The Boy Wonder coughed lightly as if clearing his throat. "I'm really sorry. If there's any way I can make it up to you, name it," he offered, looking about as contrite as a walking traffic light could.
"You're not-" he cut off, glancing around the room as though Slade could be hiding in the shadows, "you're not worried Deathstoke is going to come back and finish what he didn't on Veteran's Day, are you?"
Ah, how he loved to hear those words, put forth so innocently. A grin tugged at the corner of his bearded mouth, lone eye glinting. "I'm sure there are plenty of ways a spry, capable lad like you could be put to use," he said with a chuckle. "But you shouldn't be worried about me--pay me no mind. I'm just an old man who wants to attend to his business in peace."
He rubbed his temple, the side without injury, and scoffed lightly. "I've lived this long without hiding," he informed Robin. "I don't think I'm on the hit-list. It was just the wrong party to be in attendance." The way he quirked his brow suggested it was the understatement of the year.
After a moment of consideration, the man sighed, and then got up with some effort. "Tell you what, lad," he said as he clapped Robin on the forearm. "No hard feelings. If it makes you feel better give me some way to contact you. You can be my personal life-alert."
Robin nodded in understanding. It was pretty obvious that the old man simply wanted to be left alone, and any worrying about his safety would invariably make the Titan leader a nuisance. Still, he'd make sure to add this area to the team's patrol routes. Just in case. After all, Slade had gone after Mr. Wilson once. The boy knew from experience that the masked mastermind wasn't exactly easily foiled.
The furrow between his masked eyes probably made it pretty clear Robin's line of thought, because the man got up with a sigh. Robin's gaze snapped to Mr. Wilson's single eye when the man's large hand landed on his green gloved forearm. Personal life-alert? He could do that. "Sure!" Robin replied brightly, smiling at the old man, as he reached into his belt.
For the second time in his relatively short career as the leader of the Teen Titans Robin held out a communicator to a sworn enemy with a grin on his face. "Here," he offered the yellow and black device to Mr. Wilson. And, because the man was a senior who hadn't grown up with tech, more explanation was probably necessary. "There's two ways to call. This one," he gestured to a button on the side, "sends out a distress signal along with your location. Anyone on the team will hear and respond to this. You know, in case something really bad happens."
"Or," the boy flipped it open, "You can call me directly. See?" He hit a little phone icon at the bottom of the screen that popped up a list of the core Titans in their database with profile pictures. "I'll add myself to your favorites list so it's easier to find," Robin added, tapping the screen and pulling the smiling photo of himself up to the top in a brand new section.
Slade listened to the instructions with the good grace of a man who could figure out every little feature--even those the Titans would rather he not--and still play the part of a technologically inept old man. He couldn't help the grin that broke out when Robin added himself to his favourites list. He certainly was a favourite. There were other contenders, but a master always remembered his first apprentice.
"Got it," he said, holding the communicator in the palm of his hand. His eye crinkled with amusement. "Does this mean we're pals?" he asked, pulling up the favourites list on the screen.
"Now you have no excuse not to call before dropping in. While you're welcome, I would rather not the surprise."
Robin laughed at the man's question, repeating the word with obvious amusement. "Pals," he agreed. It was such an old person trying to be hip word. At least Mr. Wilson hadn't attempted something more modern like bros. The Boy Wonder's smile turned awkward when the man reminded him he had no more excuse for sneaking around his house anymore. Color flushed under his mask, and he ducked his chin in understanding.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he said, sounding contrite. But he perked up slightly at the knowledge that he was welcome, and that he hadn't destroyed their friendship by being a Slade-obsessed idiot. "I promise I'll call ahead from now on," he said, scout's honor. "I'm sorry I frightened you."
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Alviss: Darn doesn't show the pic
Apr 18, 2019 7:10:17 GMT -6
force: miss this place. if anyone comes back and sees this, i'm force, i was kid flash here once. you can find me on discord at rook#9485
Jan 12, 2023 13:11:35 GMT -6
The roleplay takes place after the series end of the original Teen Titans animated show, but does not include the movie Trouble in Tokyo. Since then Robin has been on something of a recruiting spree, and many new young heroes have found themselves a home in Jump City as well as Titan Tower.
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