The spin off of Derek's time with Jason Todd. For those who haven't read The Night, might want to, it'll clear up who Derek is. Anyways I'll stop babbling and move on to the prologe.
"He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man"
Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay
I tried to drive all through the night
The heat stroke ridden weather, the barren empty sights
No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me
Derek pulled his hood over his head shivering as he headed home. He shouldn't have worn shorts today; he knew it was going to be cold that day now he had to suffer the long ass walk from Gotham to Gotham Heights. Rain started to fall from the sky, soaking him "Great, just fucking great, first I have to deal with Batman, then Joker, now I get to walk 15 godsdamn miles to get home in the fucking cold while it's raining," he muttered to himself, slipping his mask off and into the pocket of his hoodie.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black mass rush past at a high speed, probably not noticeable by the human eye.
Good thing Derek wasn't full human.
He spun on his heel, in time to catch the form duck into an ally. Derek donned his mask on the empty street, following it.
The demigod drew out one of his knives, clutching it in his hand as he slipped down the dark ally. He climbed up the latter (probably a stupid idea) to a fire escape, scanning for the creature. He looked down fast enough to see a black hand wrap around his ankle and pull him down. Derek's head slammed against one of the rungs and knocked him out cold.
Derek groaned when he opened his eyes; the back of his head trobbing as if someone had taken a cast iron skillet to it. He blink his eyes open, shivering as he stood up in the unfamiliar area. There were people passing by, as if there wasn't a twelve year old kid laying unconscience on the side of the street. So either he was in New York, Chicago, some other large city, or Gotham.
He stumbled for the nearest newspaper dispenser. In the partial reflection he could see his mask was still on, making him question the people of Gotham's sanity; the newspaper inside was the Gotham Gazette. He nearly stumbled when he saw the date. March 3rd, 2013. The headline read: Joker Escapes Arkham Asylum.
"What the fuck?" He hissed stumbling back to the alley. It was dark except for the light cast from the dull street lights.
He heard a dull clank of a can or some metal skipping across the ground, and the sound of a bunch of gangbangers behind him. All he really needed were a bunch of druggies trying to mug him.
He turned and faced them, crystal blue eyes rapidly darkening to raven black. The first one was tall, clad in black and red. Internily Derek groaned at the cliché outfit before bringing his leg up and knocking him out. The other 7 engulfed him, taking any free shot they could.
Six clear gun shots rang through the alley, killing six of the goons, while missing Derek. The last one continued to fight, aparently so stupid he didn't realize he was out numbered and screwed. Derek pulled out one of his throwing knives, turning it in his hand then forcing it through the man's chest.
He started to cough up blood as the pre-teen punched him in the face. Derek let him drop to the ground, wiping off the ivory claw with his hoodie sleeve. He tucked it back in it's hiding spot, waiting to see who the fuck his savior was.
Five minutes later a man (he was assuming) maybe 6'3", dressed in a leather jacket, black jeans, gray under armor, and a red helmet appered in front of him. "What's your name?" The stranger questioned him. The sense of utter wrongness flooded over Derek, but he ignored it, mostly since he was sick of that feeling.
"Demon Wolf," he replied. "Why did you save me?"
The other male looked at the bodies on the ground around Derek. "You injured?" He was but Derek wasn't going to admit it. Until he fainted.
Can't you help me as I'm startin' to burn (all alone)
Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction
My confidence is leaving me on my own (all alone)
No one can save me and you know I don't want the attention
As I adjust to my new sights the rarely tired lights will take me to new heights
My hand is on the trigger I'm ready to ignite
Tomorrow might not make it but everything's all right
Mental fiction, follow me; show me what it's like to be set free