Yeah, first fanfiction. Wahoo. I've been writing for a while so hopefully this will be somewhat enjoyable. This story is about all the different Batfamily members and one big overarching plot that will be explained later. This story was inspired by TheRockingWriter's 6 Robins: The Story of the Huntress. All these characters are based on DC Comics and I own none of the rights to any of the characters in this story. Unless it's an OC, but I don't think I'll really have any in this story.
Just to add some extra context before the prologue begins, here are everyone's ages.
Alfred Pennyworth/Penny 1: 73
Bruce Wayne/Batman: 46
Selina Wayne/Catwoman: 44
Kate Kane/Batwoman: 38
Barbara Grayson/Oracle: 33
Dick Grayson/Nightwing: 31
Bette Kane/Flamebird: 29
Jason Todd/Red Hood: 26
Cassandra Cain/Black Bat: 21
Tim Drake/Red Robin: 21
Stephanie Brown/Spoiler: 21
Harper Row/Bluebird: 17
Carrie Kelley/Batgirl: 15
Damian Wayne/Robin: 13
Helena Wayne: 10
Jamie Grayson: 1
This story takes place in January 2019.
Prologue
Damian Wayne was born from the blood of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne, two of the most influential and powerful people on Earth. For millennium, man had been developing and constantly working to further development in science and technology. Throughout all their discoveries of strange new worlds and unknown physics and energies, new animal species and modern medicine, man couldn't figure out a better way to awaken people from slumber other than the pulsating Alarm Clark. Damian groaned. He snatched the samurai sword from under the pillow that he'd had there ever since Helena put fire ants in his bed (after he claimed he was the best child of Batman). He slashed the alarm clock in half and it went flying against the wall, smashing on impact. Damian smiled to himself.
He went into his bathroom and turned on the shower. He dumped his head into the stream as he tried to get the ringing out of his ears. Although it was hard on Pennyworth coming in and cleaning up all those alarm clocks every day, it was Damian's stubborn sense that made him keep doing it. Father had said he'd figure out how to get Damian's phone to transmit a frequency that would awaken Damian. That had been over two years ago. That's why no alarm clock Pennyworth had ever gotten him stayed intact for more than a week.
Damian looked at the damaged clock and realized he couldn't tell what time it was. He reluctantly looked at his iPhone, a gadget he still thought pointless, and looked at the time: 9:37 AM. Damian sighed to himself, disgusted. Father had decreed that any member of the so-called "Batfamily" that was under 18 years of age and patrolling a sector had to get at least 56 hours of sleep a week. 56 hours? Insane. That averaged out to a full eight hours of sleep a night. All the people that were perishing during those 56 hours. He'd be shocked if Bruce got over 16 hours of sleep a week. That's all that was needed. Pity man hadn't invented a way to ignore sleep and still turn out fine.
With the day being drawling and boring, since he couldn't patrol till nighttime when the scum come out, he decided he might as well go training. Breakfast wouldn't be served till 10 AM sharp, since Wayne Manor had recently fallen victim to an infestation of teenagers in Harper Row and Carrie Kelley. At least all the wards and children adopted by Bruce had either moved out or turned into adults. Damian wouldn't turn into a cliche teenager, as far as he was concerned he was more mature that the average adult. Hell, yesterday he broke six arms and ruptured two appendixes. He enjoyed his life in Gotham.
The manor was big, a necessity for all the cult-like followers Bruce inspired to live in it, but getting down to the Batcave when he lived on the fifth floor was no easy task. He would take the elevator, but he didn't trust a mansion that hadn't been updated since the 90s. When he was eight, he had been in Shanghai trying to escape armed security after he'd carried out an assassination, and upon trying to climb out the top of an elevator to escape, the creaky old thing dropped out from under him. He'd sworn the things off since then. He'd take the stairs.
The Batcave was hidden under the southwest corner of Wayne Manor, and Pennyworth had elected to put him up in the northwest part of the East Wing when he moved in three years ago. Typical. Damian's commute had to shift gears when he reached the third floor, as the stairwell led off into another wing, and going down to the southeast stairwell was the most direct route. As he made his journey down the third floor west corridor, he caught sight of Harper Row in her room listening to some rock band on her headphones loud enough to wake the entire floor. Out of all the scum Damian had faced over the years, teenagers ranked at the bottom of the barrel. Filthy creatures with no respect, he was constantly aggravated at his father's insistence to allowed them to live at the Manor. Just because she was looking for an apartment for her and her brother didn't mean she had to stay here. His father would have been happy to pay for a hotel, surely.
On the second floor, he passed his cousin Bette Kane snoring like some untamed beast. Damian had never taken a liking to Bette Kane, she'd seemed to have caused an awful lot of trouble for his father in the past. Nevertheless, she never passed up the chance to take an extended-stay at the manor, and had been crashing with them since the holidays. No one seemed to mind that the holidays had ended two weeks beforehand. Damian figured that it was about time she vacated the premise, but despite bringing up the matter of evicting her on two occasions with his father, he had allowed Bette to stay.
Unwanted house guests aside, Damian's mind cleared as he reached the first floor. Sounds of cooking could be heard from the kitchen, where he heard Pennyworth and his father laughing about something. As he neared the grandfather clock that marked the secret entrance to the Batcave, his cat Alfred scurried by, pausing only to meow at him. His cat's name proved to be a constant source of amusement for his peers. They thought it funny that he named the cat after Pennyworth yet refused to call the butler by his first name. Damian didn't understand the amusement. He referred to people by their last name, and had given the cat Pennyworth's first name as a sign of respect. Simple. Still, he was teased constantly for this. As far as cats go, Alfred was fairly domesticated compared to all the strays Selina had brought in over the years, though he still preferred the company of the dozens of felines that scurried in and around Wayne Manor. The amount of cats on the property rivaled the number of costumed children, and in his family that was most definitely saying something.
When he reached the grandfather clock, which he thought would collapse and give away the cave any day now, he inputted the time that was forever embedded in his brain: 10:47 PM. The clock slid aside, shuddering and clanging. So much for covertness. Damian stepped through the concealed entrance as the clock slid closed behind him once again. He walked down the stairs to the Batcave, his legs pulling him there from memory.
As he walked in, the air changing, he noticed that many of his fellow vigilantes were already there. Helena was there training with his step- mother. He had to keep telling himself that Selina was his true mother. The Grayson family was also there. Barbara was looking at something on the Batcomputer. Jamie was crawling away from Grayson, towards his Escrima Sticks.
"One day, Jamie," said Grayson, chuckling to himself and pulling his squirming daughter away from the dangerous weapons.
When Jamie saw Damian, she immediately crawled towards him. Damian was mad at himself for thinking that she was "cute", he had no time to waste on such emotions. He was born of powerful blood, and had an important purpose. Jamie latched onto his foot.
"Glazflapy," she exclaimed, slobbering on his foot.
"Greetings Jamie, glad Grayson hasn't put you in a cape yet," said Damian, with as much professionalism he could muster.
"Morning Dami, glad you woke up eventually," Dick said with a brotherly grin on his face.
"I will disembowel you Grayson," Damian said with a frightening tone. Grayson was 31 and married, no sleep penalty. "What's Gordon doing anyway?" asked Damian, staring at his entranced 'sort-of-aunt'.
"Hmm?" murmured Gordon, coming back to Earth, "Oh, I'm researching a bombing case for Black Canary," she said. She didn't have as much to do for her fellow Birds of Prey when she was staying at Wayne Manor, and Damian wasn't surprised she took the first chance she got to jump on a computer. Damian nodded, his eyes wandering to his sister knocking down his s- mother.
"I'm going to go humiliate my sister," said Damian, calmly.
Damian made his way over to the training platform. He walked down the stairs with a spring in his step, towards his sister who was helping Selina up.
"Hello short stack, want to fight an actual opponent?" Damian asked.
"Sure, tell me if you find one," she responded, smirking. Damian chuckled, then he swung his sword out at her legs. She did a backflip over the sword pulling on his outstretched arm, trying to topple him over, but he slid downward colliding with her airborne legs. They both landed on the ground, Helena twisting out of the way as Damian landed in a plank.
"Play nice kiddies," said Selina, walking away from her daughter.
Damian picked up his sword, slashing at her, but she jabbed her hand into his face. He slid to the right and dropped his sword. He began trying to punch her in the stomach, but she dodged every one before jumping over him, trying to pull his head down with her, but he caught her legs and threw her down. She hit the ground, but slid under his legs, grabbing them and trying to pull him with her, but he did a backflip. The fight escalated to more general ground, as they started punching and jabbing out at each other. Helena got a hit in his side. Damian sunk to his knee, faking defeat, and as she moved to knock him out with an uppercut, he rolled to the side. He grabbed his sword and slashed at her stomach, she barely dodged it, leaving a nasty cut.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop…" Helena said shakily, she then twisted and socked him in the nose. Damian stumbled backwards, "…because we're even!" she said with a grin spreading across her face. He moved to punch his sister, but a shadow swept over them. Damian got the wind knocked out of him, and his legs swiped out from under him. Helena was head locked, and thrown across the mat. Father dropped him back on the mat as he and his sister scrambled to their feet.
"Brunch is ready, Alfred made omelets," said father slowly, with effect. Damian and his sister stared at each other for a second, then they were on top of each other scrambling to get to the kitchen first. His father bowed his head and walked away, probably glad he didn't have siblings as a kid.
A few minutes later, Damian was sitting down in a chair so fluffy he was afraid he'd sink into it. At least his fight with Helena was eventful, he had ten thousand steps on his Fitbit and it wasn't even noon. He looked around at the table wondering who was skipping out on the Sunday meal. Jason was gone, probably on some other continent. Cain was off on some mission in Rome, and Carrie wasn't able to make it. Despite crashing in Wayne Manor, she seemed perfectly capable of stopping by whenever she needed to eat or sleep. Guess she found somewhere better to be. The Graysons and Helena had come up for brunch, and Bette must have rolled into a bear trap while she was sleeping because she was awake. Drake and Brown must have made the sacrifice to come home from their "annoying" shift to eat brunch. Kane was sitting next to them. Alfred was seated at the head of the table, Bruce and Selina were positioned on either side. Damian sat next to Bruce while Helena sat next to her mother, eyeing each other's omelet portions. The table was longer, a lot longer than the thirteen of them, so from there on gaps separated them. Drake and Brown were a few seats down on the left side, and Row was chatting it up with Bette on the right. The Graysons occupied the other side of the table, Jamie was cu- amusing. Of course, no one dared venture into her food spewing range.
"Although I would attempt to deliver a speech of upmost excellence, everyone has clearly started digging in already," Alfred announced with an eyebrow raised. Bruce put a hand on his guardian's shoulder.
"Let's eat."