Hi there readers! Quick few years before you get started.

I'm French. English is my second language, but as I read the comics in English I found it easier to write in English as well, so I am so sorry for any mistakes left (I must have corrected about a thousand times but well still).

Secondly, I mostly read the New 52 comics, so there are some characters I don't know well, for example Cassandra Cain, but I really wanted to put her in this fic because I find her interesting and she is part of the Batfamily. I'm sorry if she (and others) isn't just like in the comics.

That said, I hope you still enjoy it. Have fun! :)


I

Who the fuck are you

August 31st

- Welcome home, Damian.

The twelve year old boy took a good look outside the car's window.

- So this is Wayne Manor, he said, unimpressed.

He'd lived in bigger. Wayne Manor was just an old manor passed on in the Wayne family, one of Gotham's oldest and wealthiest families.

- It is, Bruce Wayne – the boy's father – confirmed.

He stopped the expensive car – one of many – at the bottom of the few steps leading to the front door.

- Are you ready to meet the others? He asked.

- Ready or not, I do not have a choice.

Damian got out of the car and waited for his father to join him. Bruce took the luggage out of the trunk. There wasn't much: a few clothes and objects was all Damian needed. They walked up the steps together, and the door opened. An old man appeared, smaller than Bruce. Grey hair, almost bold, small mustache, he was wearing a black and white suit, but not a fancy and expensive one, even though it was shining.

- Good evening Master Bruce, the old man said with a British accent, how was your trip?

- Tiresome, Alfred. I'm glad I don't have any business meeting tonight.

- I presume you've forgotten about your business meeting with Mr. Fox then.

Bruce looked up to the heavens and groaned.

- Damn Lucius.

- Does this mean you have to go?

He looked down at his son. Two months ago, Bruce Wayne didn't know he had a son. Two months ago, this child didn't have a father. They barely knew each other, and they only had a year to know themselves better. "He's old enough to get to know you" Talia, Damian's mother, had said to him. Bruce remembered Talia well: he'd loved him, once, a long time ago, when he was young and reckless. Unfortunately, things hadn't gone well for them. In fact, they'd gone so wrong she had hidden the existence of Damian Wayne-Al Ghul from him.

- I'm sorry, he answered, it's an important meeting.

- Can I attend it with you?

- It's late and you need to rest. Alfred will take care of you.

Was he supposed to hug him or kiss him on the head or mess his hair up with a brush? Bruce was never good at those kinds of things. He remembered his parents hugging him and kissing him, but they'd never taught him to do it with a child of his own. So he just turned around and went back to the car without another word.

Damian wasn't used to have a father. A mother, yes. A grand-father, even. But a father? The word didn't sound real. To him, Bruce Wayne had always been some rich guy he'd heard about from time to time on the news. His mother had never talked about him; how could he have guessed this man, this billionaire and CEO of one of the biggest enterprises in the world, was his father?

- Are you alright, master Damian?

The kid looked up at the old man.

- Who are you supposed to be? He asked.

- My name is Alfred Pennyworth, the butler.

- Butler?

Not that it surprised him – Damian had always been surrounded by people paid to do as he wished. He'd guessed that a man as rich and busy as his father would have one to. But the word "butler" sounded much more important than "servant" or "landlady", and the way this man said it made it look like an important and proud job.

- I've been at the Waynes's service for several decades. I used to serve his parents before they passed away.

- And you never thought of resigning?

- Never have I.

Damian shrugged. Alfred picked the luggage up. He was stronger than he looked. Finally, they entered.

The hall of the manor was huge. It was perfectly cleaned, but it still looked and smelled old. Damian had never seen a place like this one, but he tried not to look impress in front of the two teenagers observing him from up the stairs. He gave a quick look at them. There was a boy and a girl, both dark-haired and blue-eyed. The girl surely had Asian origins, like him, but the boy didn't. He also seemed slightly older than the girl. The boy was the first to get down the stairs to greet him. He was wearing a red pullover, his hair was perfectly combed.

- Hi, I'm Tim, he said.

Tim was thin and tall – taller than Damian. The latter didn't like being forced to look up to people. Because he couldn't look down, he refused to shake the friendly hand reaching out to him.

- Drake, is it not? He asked.

Tim withdrew his hand, a bit confused.

- Hum, yeah. But I –

- I'm Damian Wayne. Pleasure to meet you.

He turned his head towards the girl in the stairs. She hadn't moved from her observation point where she seemed to study him carefully.

- And you must be Cain.

She didn't react.

- She doesn't talk much, Tim explained.

- I know. Father told me about her. And you.

His goal was simple: be as cold and distant as he could. His mother had taught him to be like that with everyone he didn't like. It seemed to work, from the look that boy Tim had.

- I'll put everything in your bedroom upstairs, Alfred said, dinner has been served. You should go eat with Master Tim and Mistress Cassandra.

He lifted the luggage up again and went up the stairs. As he passed Cassandra, he stopped and whisper in her ear:

- It will be hard to get used to him, but please take good care of him.

- Only if he deserves it, she answered without smiling.

Even though Cassandra wasn't joking, Alfred was pleased with that answer. He trusted her. He trusted all of them, because he knew them better than they knew themselves. The butler disappeared upstairs.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Damian looked up at Tim, Tim looked down at Damian, Cassandra looked down at both of them. None of them talked nor moved. It wasn't shyness: they were studying each other.

- Dinner? Tim finally suggested.

- Great idea.

Cassandra silently ran down the stairs and they all headed to dining room. The room was bigger than the hall, but it smelled and looked just as old. A few paintings were hanged up on the walls, representing beautiful landscapes. There also was expensive decoration, such as Chinese vases. At the center of the room rested a long and triangular table. On one side, four plates had been set. The three kids took place around them, Tim and his sister on the same side, Damian on the other.

- So, Damian, where do you come from exactly? Tim asked to try and start a pleasant conversation.

Damian served himself too spoons of salad before answering:

- Nanda Parbat.

- I've never heard of it.

- Nobody has.

- What does your mother do?

- She is the CEO of Lazarus Corporation.

- Isn't it specialized in beauty products?

- It is. They are known worldwide. You must have heard of it.

- It's hard not too, with all what's said about it in the papers...

Damian raised an eyebrow.

- Excuse me?

Tim served himself salad. He was sitting straight.

- Well, they're not the cleanest corporation in the world. They were facing a few lawsuits last I've read.

- The media doesn't know what they're talking about.

- I think they do.

- I went there. I've seen it. I was explained how it all worked by the CEO, my own mother. I think I am more reliable than some no-good journalist.

Tim put down his fork.

- First of all, the journalist is no "no-good journalist". He's a professionnal and knows exactly what he's talking about. Second of all, you're twelve years old, how would you know anything about how a corporation works?

Damian put down his fork.

- I am Damian Wayne, son of Talia Al Ghul and grandson of Ra's Al Ghul, founder of Lazarus Corporation, and I was born to become its next CEO. I am not some mere twelve year old child. It's important you remember that, Drake.

Suddenly, Cassandra started laughing. The two boys looked at her, one surprised, the other frustrated.

- What are you laughing at, Cain? Damian asked.

She stopped laughing and looked at him. Her whole face had gone from a wide smile to tensed in the fraction of a second.

- Don't call me like that, she gritted.

- It is your name.

She got up, almost jumping on her feet. Her chair fell back.

- You don't call me that! Or I swear I'll rip your head off!

- Cass' please don't, Tim said as he stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked at him. She was pretty mad, and it was understandable why. Damian stared at her. It could have gone for a while, but Tim intervened.

- Let's have a talk outside, he said to Cassandra.

He added to Damian's attention:

- We'll be right back. Don't wait for us.

- I wasn't going to.

They stepped outside of the room. Damian continued eating alone. All was going as planned, he thought to himself. The difference between them and him was made: he wasn't some orphan adopted in pity by a bored billionaire. Like he'd always been taught to, Damian had – and was – going to best them all, one by one. Nice and slow, too: he had a whole year to do so. Cassandra was easier to get to, because she was the most recent one adopted. Tim wasn't a fool: he was intelligent, a mastermind of sorts. But Damian would get to him, one way or the other. Then, of course, he'd have to take care of the two elders.

Someone opened the front door and slammed it back. Damian heard the newcomer walk to the dining-room where he was alone. He waited for him.

It was a young man with dark hair and green eyes, wearing a white T-shirt under a red hoodie with zipper and a leather jacket and a pair of jeans. He was holding a red motorcycle helmet. When he noticed Damian, he froze and frowned.

- Who the fuck are you?

- I'm Damian Wayne.

The young man sighed.

- Jesus Christ, did Bruce adopt someone else?

- He didn't adopt me. I am his biological son, forced to spend one year with you.

- Yeah, now I remember.

He put the helmet on the table and took his leather jack off.

- So Bruce can have kids of his own, huh?

- I am the living proof of it.

- I can see that. I'm Jason.

- Todd, yes. The second orphan. I know who you are. I've made my research.

- Research? What kind of research?

Damian ate a little before answering his question.

- I've read what happened to your parents and how my father ended up adopting you. I also read what happened to you a few years ago.

Jason's whole body immediately tensed. But unlike Cassandra earlier, he didn't threaten him. He only stared at him.

- Glad you did your research. Who the hell are you again?

- I'm Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, grandson of Ra's Al Ghul, founder of Laza-

- I take it back, Jason interrupted, I don't care who you are, Brat. You could be Lex Luthor's last hair, I still wouldn't care. At the end of the day, you're stuck with us in here. So you better start treating us like your equals, Demon's Spawn.

On this note, he sat at the very end of the table, grabbed his plate and served himself. Jason wasn't like the others, Damian knew that. He'd been through a lot for someone his age. But what he went through gave him a lot of weaknesses to exploit.

Tim and Cassandra finally came back. She had been calmed down and was back to the silent treatment. Tim was calm, almost at peace. But Damian knew that deep inside, he was already fed up with him.

- Where were you? Tim asked Jason as he sat back.

- Getting drunk at a strip club, y'know me.

Cassandra smiled a little. Tim didn't reply to his joke.

- Bruce went to his meeting.

- And he left us with the Demon's Spawn, how kind of him. When does he get back?

- I don't know. I think there was a party after the meeting.

- And when is the Brat's bed time?

- I do not have a bed time, Damian objected.

- I'd say now is a perfect time, Tim answered as he ignored the child.

- I couldn't agree more. Any objections Cassie?

She shook her head.

- You can't make me go to bed, Damian grumbled, I am not a child.

At the same moment, Alfred appeared.

- Master Damian, your room is ready. You shouldn't go to bed to late. I suggest you quickly finish your dinner, take a shower and head straight to sleep.

While Damian silently bitched, the three others silently laughed.