Damian Al-Ghul Chapter 1

Damian. That's his name. Damian Al-Ghul. Also known as the demons head. Why? Well you tend to get a nickname when you slaughter people. Or maybe it was because he was the heir to the best killer on the planet. But he didn't care how can he? His own Mother erased any little bit of feeling he's ever had. Right now Damian was in his chamber, sharpening his sword. A knock on the door sounded through his room. "What," he called, his tone harsh. A servant opened the heavy metal door, "Mistress Talia has requested your presence."

Ah yes, either the 'guests' have arrived again or it was training for a new art. He had become advanced in his present one. He nodded once to the servent, and put the sword in its strap and followed. Damian was at least six inches shorter considering his age. Good for only fifteen. The lights he passed lit up his raven hair. His vibrant green eyes holding no emotion, as his handsome features having no expression.

He pushed back the strands that were falling into his eyes. He noticed the servant was doing the same. Smart. Especially when you serve assassins. One wrong move and your dead, and no one would even know it. Damian realized that the man was leading him to his Mothers 'office' and the training center. So then it was the visitors. What plan has the guests and his Mother planned now? Probably trying to conquer the earth, and destroy those weakling heroes, he thought bitterly. His Grandfather, Ra's Al-Ghul had died three years ago, leaving his mother to take his place since Damian wasn't old enough.

Yet.

Damian had avenged Ra's by killing death stroke. The same day his Mother tore him away from his biological father.

Batman. Bruce Wayne. Never even got a chance to even associate with him.

The man stopped, they have reached their destination. He nodded to the servant, and he opened the door. Right away he heard "Damian." His mother eyed him and glanced at the chair next to her, "have a seat." He stalked down the large room, not sparing a glance to the others seated at the rest of the table. He sat, and ignored all the stars that were pointed at him.

"Talia," he heard a deep voice say, "Who is this?" He looked towards the voice. The bulky man stood at the other end of the table, his dark hair was tied in a low ponytail, and had a scar crossing over his right eye." Oh look Savage; it's our new killing machine." He hated the scratchy voice already. He glared teenager sat next to the man petting his rune decorated cat while laughing. Damian wanted to take that smug look off the immortal.

What? He wasn't stupid he knew who these people were.

Savage spared a glare at the devil horned boy, and stared at Talia with a raised eyebrow. She was casting a withering glare at Klarion. "Don't insult my son." Klarion chocked on his laughter and he was joined by the villains to stare at him and his mother with shocked expressions. A smirk found its way on his face. "I do enjoy killing though." Talia looked at him and he was silenced at once.

"Are you sure he matches the skills as our old…assassin?" Damian let out a -Tt-. His mother raised a delicate eyebrow "He's the one who disposed of Deathstroke, if that's what you mean." "Slade Wilson died three years ago he would've been what thirteen?" Queen Bee asked. "Twelve actually." They stared, again. But this time impressed and non-believing faces. "I would love to see a performance, would you be so kind…Damian." Savage said. Damian looked towards his mother. "Damian have you finished your new studies?" He nodded. "Prepare Damian's old instructors." She told a different servant in Arabic. He bowed and hurried away. "Shall we?" Talia asked. The Light nodded, and followed his Mother out of the room.

(THEREWASALINDBREAKHEREBUTFANFICTIONDELETEDIT)

Damian stood in the middle of the room, no weapon in hand, blindfolded. Not knowing the amount of assassins in the was the new skill he was perfecting-no- perfected. The Light sat a few feet away and-swish.

His Mother must've used a silent motion to start since his old instructor swung the sword aiming for the head. No matter he already bent back when he felt the air ripple. Again he dodged as the sword went for slice at his stomach. And another for his leg, then nothing. His ear twitched as he heard a movement behind him. The instructor struck, wanting to stab him through his back, but Damian spun around grabbing the sword with his palms. His old instructor tired to pull the sword free and instead, Damian twisted and stole the lethal weapon.

SHLICK!

HE felt blood spatter across the side of his face. It seems he succeeded in cutting the man's head off. A second wrinkle in the air and-SLICK- a slice to the neck and a wet gurgle. Two more assassins came at him, one in front and back. He dropped the stolen weapon, ducking and sliding his foot under the first one last minute. Feeling the thud through the fool, and he flipped up kicking the second in the jaw. He broke the firsts ones neck killing him quickly, taking hold of the second's leg as he made a kick to his face. He twisted it hearing a satisfying crack and loud grunt; he couldn't help the grin that danced on his features. He placed his hands on the each side of the man's head and bought it down to his raised knee. Hearing another crack sound through the room as well as a pained grunt, Damian twisted his neck as he did to the first one. And then he only heard deafening silence. That meant it was over. His chest was rising up and down in small pants that died down, and he let out a breathy chuckle. His pink tongue darted out and licked the blood that landed next on the corner of his mouth.

"You didn't tell me he was the Demons Head," he heard a new voice ask. Lex Luthor. "Very lethal, deadly. There's a rumor going around that he's the heir, is that true?" Luthor asked.

TBC...

Authors note-Again like my other story this is like a sample, review tell me if i should continue, add, or edit it and i'll update as soon as I can.

P.S If you don't like don't read.