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Timothy Drake was born mute and his parents, having no use for a defective child, abandoned him at the first opportunity, telling everyone that he had been stolen from them. They had no idea how truthful their story was. Because it wasn't social services that found their rejected baby boy. It wasn't even one of Gotham's many gangs. No, it was a ninja, a man wrapped in shadow and silence, who saw the tiny infant and spirited him away in the night. The ninja took Timothy back to his master and it was this master who gave the baby his name.
“Timothy. Honoring God. You will be mine always. My faithful blade. I will be your god and you will honor me.” Then the master killed the ninja. No one but he need know where the child came from. Not even the child himself.
From that day onward Timothy's life revolved around his master and mentor, Ra's al Ghul. The ancient man decided what and when he would eat, how much sleep he would get, what he wore, every moment of every day was strictly controlled. The day he took his first steps was the day he began combat training. When other children would have been learning to speak, Timothy was building an immunity to drugs and poisons. He was taught how to make detailed drawings from nothing but his memory when others his age would have struggled to color in the lines. The only language he learned to use was a language of hand signals designed especially for him.
Timothy grew from a sweet, shy baby and toddler into a cold, calculating nine year old who made a conscious decision to follow Ra's. And following Ra's meant serving Ra's. Timothy's first mission was simple: In, kill the target, and get out. “Make as little mess as possible, but if someone gets in your way, my viper, kill them too.” Tim had accepted the instruction from his master and the mission had ended with three dead and everyone else in the building dosed with drugs that would wipe the memories of the last two weeks from their minds. When they woke up the police were left scratching their heads, their only possible lead a dead end. Ra's was pleased, and rewarded Timothy with a book from his private library. A compendium of poisons that had been written when Ra's was just beginning to build his empire.
The gift of a book after a successful mission became a tradition between them. Timothy loved knowledge and he loved to read. And anything that made him more useful to his master was something he accepted with open arms. Ra's, for his part, enjoyed watching the bright young boy apply his considerable willpower and genius-level intelligence to molding himself in the image Ra's set out for him. By age ten Timothy knew more than most of the rest of the League of Assassins combined. By eleven he could beat any of Ra's' top operatives without breaking a sweat, and could fight Ra's himself nearly to a standstill.
It was then that Timothy had his first encounter with a member of the Bat clan.
“A kid? What are you doing here?”
Timothy frowned at the unfamiliar voice, then blanked his face and turned around, sliding into a subtle ready stance. The stranger wore a black and blue costume that matched the master's description of Nightwing, but Timothy was uncertain. He supposed it could be an impostor. He decided to reserve judgment and simply take him down.
The stranger held up his hands in a placating manner. “Hey, I won't hurt you. I'm here to help. I can get you out of here.”
Timothy snorted. Whoever this was, they weren't very bright. He sprung forward, taking the stranger by surprise and striking a nerve cluster in his neck that had him collapsing, body limp and unresponsive. That taken care of, Timothy pulled a pouch of sleeping powder from one of his many hidden pockets and blew a palm-full into the stranger's face. He allowed himself the luxury of a smile when the stranger's eyelids drooped and fell, then sent a ninja to fetch the master.
Ra's surveyed the scene before him with amusement. “Congratulations, Timothy. You've taken down one of the world's most formidable fighters.”
Timothy raised an eyebrow and flicked some signs at the ancient. ~I accept your praise with joy, but he was hardly a challenge. Too soft at heart to beat me.~
“That he is. Did he want to rescue you?”
~Yes.~
“You could go with him if you wished. See the world outside my influence. Choose a different path.”
~No thank you. I have no desire to leave your service even temporarily. I've read about the so-called heroes. They're pathetic. Weak.~ Timothy sneered. ~That is not who I wish to be. At your side I am strong, so at your side I will stay.~
“As you wish. It wouldn't hurt you to see the world, however. Perhaps I should send you on a tour of it. Europe at least.”
~If that is your will for me.~
“It is. I want you to know what you are giving up by devoting yourself to me.”
Timothy bowed. ~I live to serve. I will travel if you tell me to.~
“Good. You leave in a month. You will take two attendants of your choosing and you will bring back at least one new weapon to train with and at least one new book. That is simply a minimum. If you wish to bring back more than that, I want you to do so.”
~Yes, Master.~
“You are dismissed. I will handle the Acrobat.”
Timothy bowed again and left.
He spent a year touring the world, learning as he never had before. But still he returned to Ra's' side, uninterested in freedom or peace. He brought back with him seven books on various subjects and three new weapons: A black and gold tessen, or Japanese war fan, a bamboo bo staff, and a pair of ebony-handled, steel-bladed kamas. Ra's was pleased.
A month after Timothy's return to his proper place, the Batman himself broke into the palace and fought is way to the room where Timothy was training with his tessen. The boy assassin stopped in the middle of his kata and raised a derisive eyebrow at the older man.
“Timothy Drake.”
Timothy's eyebrow climbed higher. A last name. This man seemed to think he needed one. How cute.
“You were kidnapped from your family as a baby, Tim. I can reunite you with them. I can take you to your parents. I-”
Tim threw his head back, mouth open, shaking with silent mirth. His sides ached by the time he got his laughter under control. In perfect American Sign Language, one of the many new skills he'd picked up on his trip, he replied mockingly, “Parents? Why would I need parents? Pathetic civilians who can't even hang on to their own child. They're worthless to me.”
“They miss you very much, Tim.”
“Too bad for them. I don't care.”
“Tim, you've been brainwashed. I can help you. I can protect you from Ra's.”
“Protection? That's adorable. I don't need your protection. I don't want your help. I'm not a helpless pawn, chained to my master's side. If I wanted to leave, I would leave. No one would be able to stop me. But why should I leave? By Ra's' side I am strong. I am useful. I am everything I want to be. I've seen the outside world. I spent a whole year in freedom. And I want none of it. Take your so-called rescue somewhere it's actually needed.”
Batman's face hardened. “I will knock you out and take you with me if I have to, Tim.”
Timothy grinned. “Try me.” He snapped his folded up fan open again and slid around Batman's side, slashing through the armor just below his rib cage with the diamond blade.
The older man seemed shocked. But he fell into a fighting stance and threw a flurry of blows Timothy's way. Timothy simply bent away, countering with his tessen and slicing armored gloves to shreds. Then he kicked out and hit the older man's knee, knocking his legs out from under him and making him cry out in pain. Timothy set the bladed edge of the fan to his throat and he froze.
Ra's strolled nonchalantly into the room, clapping. “Once again, Timothy, you prove yourself exceptional. What would you do with your opponent now that he is at your mercy? You can kill him if you'd like.”
Tim nodded and pulled back, only to lunge forward again, slashing Batman's throat. He met his master's eyes as the Bat bled out on the floor. ~He would have tried to program me into someone he approved of. That is not acceptable.~
“Indeed. Come along, my viper. We'll let the servants clean up this mess.”