"Look, 'Wing, it's a puppy . . . you gonna kick it too?"

"Just shut up, and distract the monster."

Damian pressed his fingertips into his temple, digging after that unreachable migraine that came from putting up with his brothers for too long. Short of drilling into his skull, it was a gesture doomed to failure.

"If the two of you could put the hellhound down before it decimates further vehicles . . ." he drew out in warning. Damian was promptly ignored.

He glanced over his shoulder; if Timothy wasn't sleeping, Damian could use a break and their earlier spar had been interrupted. Unfortunately, the boy had finished the drones off and—with only a tired appraisal of the stairs—crashed on one of the cots in the medical center.

Damian had often made the same choice after a taxing patrol. Granted, Richard insisted on carrying him up to bed afterwards, and Damian will do the same for Timothy once the others get in. It was part of the responsible guardian role that Damian is trying to emulate.

Alfred had long since abandoned him for Timothy. The cat was curled up against the back of the boy's neck, the black of his fur blending into the boy's dark hair from this distance. Damian was relieved that the pair had taken to each other; Alfred and Jason have been waging a private war for the better part of a decade.

"Seriously, Bat-baby, does this thing even have a weakness?"

For obvious reasons.

Damian refocused on the task at hand. "None on file, but given the fact that the beast is on fire, I would assume water to be a major deterrent." How the first two Robins even survived this long is a mystery to all lesser mortals.

"There's a thought. How about the duck pond?"

"The park on Allan Avenue is closer," Nightwing put in.

"That's a creek at best," Red Hood protested.

"So what?"

"Pick a water feature, and get to work," Damian snapped, then winced and dropped into a deadly whisper instead. "Now." Fortunately, Timothy hadn't stirred although Alfred had raised his head to gaze balefully in Damian's direction.

"Aww, did you finally get the wittle baby bird to sleep?" Jason cooed mockingly.

Damian ignored him.

"Is he still upset?" Richard asked—his mind clearly not on the fight at hand. Thankfully, Red Hood had assumed the role of 'prey' and was successfully keeping the beast's attention on himself.

"He is sleeping, Grayson. How do you propose I determine his emotional state?"

"Hey, no names in uniform," Jason squawked. "Nice doggy."

Damian ignored Jason with the ease of long-standing practice. "He vented on the drones. I will have to repair MR-10 or possibly rebuild it from scratch. Then he went to sleep."

His oldest brother groaned. "I'm not the bad guy here, right?"

"You are as virtuous and over-protective as ever," Jason chirped. "Turning it my way before I become the Flaming Hood would be awesome. I'd hate to steal another villain's look."

"Two o'clock, Nightwing," Damian prompted, because he is both a good brother and a good leader. "And you are clearly a superior brother figure," he added, ignoring Jason's offended protest. "I have few complaints."

That made Richard laugh. "Just a few?"

"Legitimate concerns," Damian corrected. "I still brought Timothy home to you, did I not?"

"I'm not doing so well this time around," his brother sighed, ducking the enraged creature.

"As you said to the boy, it has only been a month. I considered you the enemy for almost a year," Damian admitted, obliging the cat who had come looking for attention. Damian admired cats and their persistent natures, removing his fingers from Alfred's teeth to scratch behind the animal's ears. "Twenty yards . . . how exactly do you propose to get the hellhound into the duck pond, Hood?"

Jason swore roundly. "You're just bringing this up now?"

"Relax, l'il wing. I've got this," Nightwing called, back-flipping out of reach. Damian watched as the beast sprang after the superhero in blue a second time. Nightwing fell back, rolling backwards into a handstand and using the force of that roll to kick the beast overhead that little bit further into the pond itself.

"What is it with this family and birds?" Jason muttered into the com as they watched a slightly-steaming Labrador stagger from the pond.

"I believe it to be mostly Nightwing's fault," Damian speculated, as an eerie howling came through the speakers.

"Most things are," Jason agreed. "And don't look now, big brother, but I think these things travel in packs."

Nightwing never got the chance to argue, because an entirely different howling drowned out the hounds as security alarms blared above. Alfred leapt down with an insulted air, and Damian glanced back at the empty hospital bed only for confirmation. Swearing himself, he exchanged a screen filled with flaming dogs of various breeds for a view of the manor's overly long driveway. Sure enough, a small figure on one of the older motorcycles was disappearing into the night.

"Please tell me that you're under attack, Batman," Nightwing grimaced, falling back-to-back with the Red Hood who was simultaneously demanding: "Did Baby Bird fly the coop?"

Damian had found the memorial cases to be exceedingly morbid which is saying something for a former-assassin. Shortly after Grayson took him on, the cases had mysteriously disappeared while a display of every mask ever worn by a member of the 'Bat Family' took their place.

The rounded black domino favored by Tim Drake was missing.

"Robin is testing his wings," Damian issued through his teeth. "The pair of you will handle the hounds. Batman will fetch the boy."