First off, there are way to many versions of Batman & co. to keep track of
So I am going to set the scene for you all
Dick is still a police officer in Bludhaven
Tim is Robin; Cassandra is Batgirl
Slade is more like the one from TV Teen Titans than the comics
No mention of his children, they don't exist
Slade does not know Nightwing's identity,
but obviously knows he was Robin
A booted foot slammed into one thug's jaw as he vaulted over another. Nightwing made a mental note to backtrack the source of his information. It was obvious he had been set up. The vigilante had been expecting trouble, but not with such a large group. He certainly hadn't been expecting them to be expecting him.
It had been a good ambush all things told. The group had done well. Most people wouldn't have lasted one minute. Nightwing wasn't just anybody. He was the Dark Knight's protégé, and it showed.
By the time his last opponent dropped to the floor, the victim of a karate chop to the neck, Dick was breathing hard. He was in excellent shape. Still, he had been greatly outnumbered. The dark-clad figure took a moment to catalog his condition. The first aid kit would see some use tonight, nothing serious however.
A soft sigh escaped Nightwing's lips. Even if he had the equipment to secure them all, his attackers would be out within days, if not hours. The BPD would not be winning any awards anytime soon. If Dick had his way, that would change one day. The young man was about to leave when he paused.
It was instinct, more than anything else, which told him he was not alone. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the slender figure tensed. Nightwing turned slowly, eyes searching for the source of his uneasiness. There, his gaze focused on the shadowed figure. It was too dark to make out the other's features.
Applause filled the night air as the hidden man stepped forward. "Excellent Robin," the smooth voice was far too familiar to Dick's ears. "You have improved."
It took every bit of the vigilante's hard won discipline not to outwardly react to the appearance of the black and orange clad man. It was Slade. Dick had hoped the mercenary had vanished from his life forever, no such luck.
Brilliant blue eyes narrowed from behind his mask. "My name is Nightwing now."
"So it is," Slade agreed as he approached on silent feet. "I must say; it suits you."
"Get to the point. What do you want?" Nightwing had grown tired of the older man's games back in his teens. "You can't possibly think I would accept your offer now." Dick had grown up. He answered to no one, not Batman, and definitely not Slade.
It was just as well Nightwing could not see the immortal's smile under his own mask. The expression was that of a tiger, cool and merciless. "Perhaps," he murmured softly. "Then again perhaps not." He took another step forward. The vigilante held his ground.
"I am a selfish man," the mercenary continued. "I never claimed to be otherwise." His single eye focused on Nightwing with a hunter's intensity. "When I find something I value, I am not willing to give it up."
No one had ever accused the first Robin of being slow on the uptake. He had collected a great deal of information on Slade over the years. He knew how the older man had become immortal. The serum would be difficult to recreate, but not impossible, especially for someone with the mercenary's resources.
"No," the single word was said flatly. Dick wasn't begging, or even telling the other to stop. Nightwing knew he wouldn't. It was a simple statement of his intentions. He would not just allow Slade to do this to him.
"I do not recall telling you that you had a choice in the matter." Slade crossed the last bit of distance between them. His leg lashed out at chest level.
It didn't connect. Nightwing was no longer there. His favored weapons dropped easily into gloved hands and a grim expression crossed his face. Dick wasn't at all certain he could win this fight. The thugs had been nothing but fodder, meant to tire him. They had unknowingly served Slade's purpose perfectly.
The vigilante fought well, but in the end, it was not enough. A strong arm wrapped around his throat like an iron clamp, depriving him of oxygen. Dick struggled to get free. Playing possum was not an option, not with this man. Unfortunately, Slade had always been the stronger of the pair.
As black spots danced around his vision a soft voice whispered in Nightwing's ear. "I can afford to be patient. I have all eternity, and soon so will you."
Dick was not comforted by the words. The last vestige of consciousness left him and he slumped into Slade's arms, the mercenary's triumphant laughter echoing in his ears.
The first thing Nightwing became aware of was that his head hurt. Soon enough though, the events of the night before returned to him. Dick could not prevent himself from moving. Not that it did any good; he had been tied down.
"Awake are you," the voice came from above him.
The vigilante opened his eyes to see Slade. The older man was standing right next to him, too close in Dick's opinion. Trying to free himself from the bindings was a useless endeavor he knew. It wasn't like the mercenary to be so careless, especially not with him.
A string of mental curses shot through his mind. Not only was he at Slade's mercy, or lack there of, but the timing could not have been worse. Officer Dick Grayson had a week off. He had been planning on visiting his family in Gothem. It was going to be a surprise. He hadn't told anyone. No one would realize he was missing for days.
Nightwing turned his attention back to Slade. "I know you've been away for a bit," he started conversationally. "But here in America we have this concept called personal space." He wanted the masked man away from him.
A low chuckle emerged from Slade's throat. This was just too amusing. He moved to smooth the younger man's hair. "I see you have not lost your sense of humor."
Dick instinctively jerked away, causing the mercenary to withdraw his hand.
"I thought you knew better," the mercenary sounded disappointed. "I will wait until you show me your eyes of your own free will." He ignored Nightwing's mutter for him not to hold his breath. "Besides, don't you still use an adhesive on your mask?"
"A different one," the words were spoken grudgingly. Dick had finished his analysis of the situation. The conclusion, baring a miracle, he was screwed.
"Still," Slade leaned over him so that their foreheads were almost touching. "I can't help but wonder what color they are?"
"Maybe they're violet." Dick knew the comeback was far from his usual level.
The older man snorted. He sincerely doubted that considering violet was one of the rarest eye colors for a human. Slade moved to pick up a full syringe from a nearby table. Now that he knew Nightwing hadn't suffered any ill effects from the result of the fight he could begin.
Dick's heartbeat shot through the roof. "Are you insane?" he hissed. "You know how many people have died from that." He was gambling on the fact the mercenary wanted him alive.
Slade was unmoved. "I have refined the formula. Besides," he added. "I have faith in you my apprentice."
Hidden eyes flashed with fire. "I am not yours," he growled. "Not now and not ever." Nightwing sounded very like his mentor at that moment.
The other's only response was to forcefully push the young man's head to one side, injecting the serum into his jugular vein. In the long run, words didn't really mean anything.
Dick felt the effects almost immediately. The formula was liquid fire in his veins. It was hard to think; he couldn't focus. Some time passed, but finally the vigilante succumbed to the inevitable. He passed out, again.
Strong fingers gently pushed Nightwing's bangs out of his face. Slade could feel the heat radiating from the younger's body even through his gloves. Part of him regretted what he was putting the other through, because the immortal knew, it would only get worse.
I'm trying to branch out a little fandom wise
I hope this is okay
The next chapter should be up soonish