Project WING

by Dark-angel0301

Sequel to 'Protecting the Batbrothers' A new foe arises and he's out for blood. A new organization caught the Batfam's attention, to be more specific, a project they discovered: Project W.I.N.G. Kids have gone missing all over town and were later found dead on the streets, their backs a bloody mess. When the Batkids intervene, kidnapping, blackmail and mental breakdowns ensue.

3. Chapter 2

I know some ppl don't like OCs, but the winged girl story parts are important to understand the story, so don't skip.

I know I haven't updated in ages, but 1. The chapter is even longer than my last one (my longest so far, I worked weeks to get this right) and 2. I was more concentrated on my PJO stories. soo... enjoy
_

214 hours before (9 days):
2 in the morning
Wayne Manor

"This is... what are we supposed to do now?" whispered Tim, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. He briefly wondered if sleeping on top of wings was uncomfortable, but he quickly dismissed the thought again; there were more pressing matters at the moment. Like the fact that she had wings to begin with!

Jason had brought the girl to the cave as fast as he could, after telling Tim what had happened, and Bruce had immediately started to clean her wounds, taking DNA samples and so on, but the machine was still working on identifying her, so they didn't have a clue what to call her and where she came from.
It was infuriating.
Tim rubbed his temples tiredly. Missions and bad guys he could handle, he just didn't have anything to do.

He glanced at the almost transparent skin of their newest rescue subject. He really didn't want to know what those scientists had done to her, how much agony she must have been in. It was disgusted that humans could be capable of such cruelty, especially those who devoted their lives to the field of science. They were supposed to help people by developing new, or enhancing already existing, things, like a cure for cancer or a new Batmobile prototype.
But he had to admit that he felt a sick fascination regarding the wings. Not many people would be able to grow bones in that specific way. It was... impressive; horrible but impressive.

Jason's outburst pulled him out of his thoughts. "How can it be that almost one hundred children go missing and no one notices it?!" he boomed, turning to face his old mentor, who stood in front of the computer, eyes locked on the screen, face illuminated by the bright light, casting a long shadow on the opposite wall. "It doesn't make sense, even if they were street rats, someone has to have noticed something!"

Jason had his hands in fists at his side, shaking with anger and something close to terror. Tim couldn't blame him. The first time he'd seen the picture of one of the dead children in the newspaper, he'd felt sick, too. He didn't want to know what it was like to find one himself, seeing the grousome way the kid had been killed.
Bruce sighed deeply and turned to face his sons. "I don't know," he admitted and Tim's face fell. If even Batman didn't know what was going on...
"Father," interrupted Damian, before Tim could fall victim to his gloom thoughts again, "I suggest we move out and interrogate the thugs and homeless people living near the areas where the dead subjects have been found."
The man nodded, but then shook his head, frowning deeply. "Not now, it's too late. I say we go to sleep and think about this tomorrow, I'll stay here and-"
"No," growled Jason, straightening his back to reach Bruce's height, "You won't. You're our best shot at finding out what's going on here, so we need you fully functional. I'll stay and watch over her." He nodded his head at the sleeping girl. "I found her, she's my responsibility."
_

There were some protests, but Jason didn't budge and so, he found himself alone, sitting on B's chair in front of the many screens lining the wall, or at least he thought so.
A gentle and laid down on his shoulder and Jason raised his head to look into Dick's concerned blue eyes. "You okay?" Jason just snort and averted his gaze. "What do you think? I just..." He sighed. "Living on the streets, it's hard and people already look down at us- them like they're some disease. And now, sadistic freaks snitch them away and turn them into guinea pigs for their experiments." He spit the last part, hate burning in his eyes. He'd always had a weak spots for children from the streets, considering his childhood...
Dick squeezed his shoulder. "I can't say I understand what it's like to be on your own in a city like Gotham, but I know one thing: if the streets made them even half as strong as you are, then the scientists had a hard time taking them. And we're gonna find out who's behind this and why they are doing this. We're gonna put them down. I promise."
At that, Jason smiled sadly, eyes flickering to his brother's face. "Don't make promises you can't keep, D."
"I always keep my promises."
And Jason felt forced to believed him.

They talked for some time, before Jason send Dick to get some sleep and the older boy grudgingly complied.
_

Dick opened the door to his room quietly and took a deep breath, enjoying the cold air that came through the open window. For a moment he just stood there, back leaned against the wooden door, eyes closed and breathing in the cool air.
Dick sighed and flopped down on his bed, feeling the tiredness seep into his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to relax his aching muscles. He threw a quick glance at the clock. Well, no wonder I'm tired, he thought, It's three am.

He was half asleep when his phone rang. Dick groaned annoyed and rubbed his heavy eyes, taking his phone from the nightstand. Who the hell was calling him at three am?!

"Hello?" He asked groggily.

"Richard Grayson?" The voice was definitely male, but had a slight feminine touch to it.

"Yes? Who is this?" Dick frowned. Why did the voice sound so strangely familiar?

"Don't you remember me?"

So Dick did know him. Just from where?

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Where would be the fun in telling you?" An unpleasant shudder ran down Dick's spine. The voice sounded... evil. Young, yet more grousome than most. Dick narrowed his eyes and thought about just hanging up, but the stranger stopped him.

"I know what you did, Grayson. I guess I should be thanking you, that way, I didn't have to do it myself."

Dick's heart tightened, even though he didn't know why. His chest felt so heavy, just like...

"No..."

"Ah, so you've figured it out already." It sounded like he was pouting. "But I wanted to tell you! Now you spoiled my surprise."

"I don-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Robin."

Dick jumped out of his bed, pressing the phone nearer to his ear, as if he'd misheard, but he knew he hadn't. His heart was beating wildly and his hands shook. This was bad, really bad.

"How...?"

The guy chuckled and Dick had a feeling that, before this was over (whatever this was), he'd get involved into something he'd want nothing to do with.

"Oh, Dicky-bird." Dick flinched. Hearing his nickname said with such venom was something new. "I know you, know your every thought. You're scared, because I know something that you've tried to bury under smiles and laughs. You're angry, but not at me, at yourself, for being so weak and giving in, pulling the trigger." He spit the last words and Dick flinched again. Not because of the harsh words, but because it was all true. Whoever was on the other end of this call really knew him and knew how to get under his skin, how to torture him just with words.

"Does your family know? Do they know that they have a murderer amongst them?" There was a short pause. "Well, two of your dear siblings are already killers, aren't I right. The youngest, the Demon Brat, and the Hood, your Little Wing." He laughed. "Really cute nicknames you got there."

Dick ran a panicked hand through his hair. How did he know how Dick called his brothers? Their identities; one thing. But personal stuff like that...

"Are you feeling me breathing down your neck? Down your family's neck?"

Dick snapped. "Just tell me what the hell you want!"

He could hear satisfied laughter. "So now you're losing your temper. I just have to mention your family and you snap. Interesting."

Dick knew that he was just mocking him and that he shouldn't let the man get under his skin, but his breaths were becoming shorter and shorter until he was nearly panting. He was having a freaking panic attack.

"Leave my family alone." Despite his racing heart, his voice sounded dangerously calm. Like the clam before the storm.

"Like you mine?"

"What?"

"Two years ago, you killed my father."

And then it all klicked. Joker's missing body, how someone could know their real identities, why the voice sounded so familiar...

"You're Joker's son."

"Finally. And I thought you were the smart one. My name is Castor, son of Harley Quinn and The Joker."

Dick closed his eyes, assessing that newfound piece of information.

"You want revenge."

"No, I don't. My father was a disease. I want justice. An eye for an eye... a father for a father."

For a second, Dick forgot to breath. "You won't be able to touch him. No matter how good you are, he's better." But even to his own ears, he didn't sound very convincing.

"Oh, I know. But my partner already beat him once and he'll do it again. And luckily for me, he still has unfinished business with you." Dick's heart missed a beat as he closed his eyes in realisation. He was inferior.

"What do I need to do for you to stay away from him."

"Not just him. I'm pretty sure a few people in Gotham would pay millions to hear Batman's and his little club of sidekicks' identities. Don't you agree?"

Dick leaned his back against the wall. He despised blackmail.

"Why me? Why not anyone else?"

"Because I'm not interested in anyone else."

Of course not. It was always him. The first Robin, the first sidekick.

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Giving up so quickly? A shame, tormenting you is so much fun."

Dick didn't response. He knew that he wouldn't get out of this without putting his family in danger. He took a deep breath. Dick hated begging, but he'd do it for his family.

"Please, just tell me what you want from me. I'll do anything if you leave them alone."

"Did I scare you so much you actually started begging? This worked out better than I imagined." He could practically feel the gleeful grin.
"You can't do anything. Just wait until we make our next move. My partner is dying to see you again, and honestly, so am I.
I want you to jump at every sound, thinking that it could be me, ready to take you or one of your siblings. I want you to live in constant fear of losing everything you've worked so hard for. I want you to feel the horror until I come and get you. Because then, you'll be mine and no one will be able to save you, not even the Bat. Oh, and I suggest you keep this conversation to yourself. I've already proven that I have intel on your personal life, and you don't want me to let all of Gotham know who their heroes really are, do you?"

"You can't-"

"I can. Until then, I suggest you start saying your goodbyes. I will keep my eyes open for a little yellow-caped bird."

"But I'm not-"

But the phone call had already ended.

"-Robin anymore," finished Dick his sentence in a whisper.

So many things didn't make sense. The man had said that he's anxious to see him again, but Dick had never met the Joker's son before. And that voice, at first, he'd thought that it had sounded so familiar because of his familiarity with the Joker's, but there was something else. He had heard that voice before, which should be impossible, but he was sure of it. He already knew his new blackmailer. And now he was targeting Damian, too, because he didn't know that Dick left behind the mantle of Robin.

How could things go so wrong so fast? One mistake and his whole world comes crumbling down around him, burying him under tons of lies, blackmail and pain.

209 hours before:

Dick hadn't slept that night (but who'd expect him to), so, when Alfred called for breakfast, he just wanted to stay under the covers and never come out. He didn't know what to do. Dick didn't want the others to know something was wrong, because he already put them in danger by even knowing them, but he wasn't sure if he could handle this alone. A lot was at stake here, including the life of his family.
He pushed his head deeper into the pillows when he heard light footsteps coming towards his room. Too light for Bruce, Jason or Alfred and not Tim's slightly jumpy steps. Damian.

"Grayson, am I allowed to enter?" the young boy asked, after knocking two times.
The acrobat closed his eyes for a moment, before sitting upright and putting a sleepy smile on his face. Fake, so so fake, but he had to fake from now on. "Sure, Little D."
The door opened and Damian stepped into the room, a cute- at least from Dick's perspective- scowl on his face. "Alfred called for breakfast," he announced, standing next to the open door. Dick nodded. "I'll be there in a sec." Damian eyed him suspiciously for a second, before retreating. Dick sighed in frustration. Great, Damian was already suspicious.

He threw off the blanket he'd been snuggled into and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing when his bare feet touched the cold ground.
He had thought about going down to the Batcave and doing some research on Castor and his mysterious partner, but Jason was still down there with the silver-haired girl.

But my partner already beat him once and he'll do it again. And luckily for me, he still has unfinished business with you.

Dick had to look up all the villains that defeated Batman and also had a history with Dick himself. That list is gonna take me some while, he thought sarcastically. Not many people who defeated B, but defenitifly a lot of guys and women who he shared a past with.

With another long breath, he finally hauled himself off the comfortable mattress and shuffled down the stairs.
Once inside the kitchen, he resisted the urge to just flop down on one of the chairs, munching on some cornflakes with hunched shoulders. Instead, he put on a I'm-perfectly-fine facade and gave his family a lopsided but so fake grin. "Mornin'."
Tim, who stood next to the coffee machine, smiled back at him. "Hey, Dick."
"Where are Jason and the girls?" the eldest bird asked, noting the absence of his little brother and two sisters.
"Cass and Steph are shopping. They have been invited to a party by one of Stephanie's friends and are now looking for something to wear," answered Bruce, face hidden by today's newspaper. "And Jason's still downstairs. Said he wanted to stay until the girl wakes up." The man sighed. "And," he continued, "we finally got a hit on the girl's identity. Kayla Stark. Her parents, Piper and Peter Stark, died eight years ago in the crossfire of two rival gangs. She dissapeared after that, probably taken by the scientists." Bruce explained, eyes not moving from his paper. "I'm just relieved we don't have any other major threats to deal with, this feels like it's bigger than we can guess at the moment. From what I can see, the missing children are only the tip of the iceberg."
And immediately, Dick felt guilty. He had one hell of a problem at hand, but... this was a burden he had to carry himself. For their safety. "You're right." Dick smiled. "Lucky us," he added in a whisper. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he grinned. "I'll go check on Jason."

One hour earlier in the Batcave:

Jason had waited the whole night for the girl to wake up, sitting in Bruce's chair, pacing around the cave, playing Pac-Man... And still no sound from Ms. Wing. Until around six o'clock.
Jason had expected her to freak out once she woke up, shuffling away from him in fear or that she would start crying, but what she did surprised him. She didn't do anything, nothing at all. But back to the start:

Jason had been dozing off in the chair next to the cot they'd laid the girl on, his mind wandering. He wondered if she had someone waiting for her to return, someone that was out there, looking for her.
He was pulled out of his half slumber by the increasing peeping of the heart machine the girl was attached to.
At first, Jason was disoriented, but then the fog in his mind cleared and he realized that she was waking up. He didn't really know how to act, so he just waited in his chair, watching as she was slowly gaining consciousness. First, her fingers twitched and Jason could see her eyes moving beneath pale eyelids. When her lids fluttered, Jason's breath caught in his throat and he wondered for a brief moment what color her eyes would be. The same silver-white like her long, silky hair, or the dark black of her wings that were still wrapped around her like a cocoon. A few seconds passed, the only sound was the shrill peeping of the heart monitor and then she finally opened her eyes.

Black. They had the color of the darkest night and Jason couldn't distinguish what was iris and what pupil. It was strangely fascinating and Jason couldn't avert his eyes. He'd never seen an eye-color like that before. They were mesmerizing, so dark, Jason could see his own reflection perfectly.
Another peep snapped him out of his stupor and he blinked, trying to clear his mind. And that was also the first time he realized something was wrong.

Just imagine, you were being held captive for years and had been experimented on (wings growing on your back can't be pleasant) and then you wake up, in a dark cavern, a place you don't recognize with weapons hanging on the walls. Oh, and not to mention the strange guy sitting next to you, staring at you like you were some kind of freak. Yeah, that would be enough to make even the toughest guys pee themselves.
So naturally, Jason had expected the girl to freak out, or have some kind of bad reaction at least, but that wasn't the case.
Instead, she laid there, unmoving, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, not even blinking and the only sign she was alive was the slow rise and fall of her chest.
And Jason didn't know what to do.
He thought about calling her name, but remembered that he didn't know it and just calling her 'girl' wasn't a good alternative. Touching seemed bad in any way, so no lightly shaking her arm to get her attention either.
He thought about calling the others, but Bruce would probably show no sympathy and out right interrogate her (which seemed like the worst idea of Jason's not so long list of ideas) and for some reason, he didn't want the others down here. The girl- he should really figure out her name- was his responsibility and he had to be the one getting her to talk, so he did the only thing he could do, he tried to do some small talk (just that he himself wasn't much of a small talk guy).

"Uh, hey," he started smartly, waving his hand awkwardly. The girl didn't response. "Eh, my name is Jason. We... saved you."
Still no reaction. "Can you hear me?" As he still didn't get any sign of recognition from the girl, he pursed his lips and sighed. Maybe she was deaf? He tentatively snapped his fingers in front of her face. Still no reaction. It didn't look like she was blind, so maybe, she was just plain right ignoring him.
This was getting him nowhere. How was he supposed to get through to her if she kept on ignoring him? With a frustrated sigh, he let his head drop in his hands, elbows propped on the armrests of his chair, his white bangs covering his eyes. He watched as they stilled after the movement of lowering his head. The color was almost similar to hers, just not as silvery. He often thought about dying them black, just like the rest of his hair, but then he always decided against it. The white bangs were a painful reminder of the agony of being resurrected and the massacre he'd caused afterwards (not that he'd apologize for that), but they were a part of him now.

A sharp intake of breath caught his attention and his head snapped back up.
Instead of staring at the ceiling, the girl's dark eyes were now locked on the white part of his hair. Looking up at his bangs, slightly cross-eyed, Jason chewed on his lip, not really knowing what to do next. "Uh..." She didn't blink, nor acknowledged him in any other ways. "I... My hair used to be black," he finally muttered, hoping his talking would make her more comfortable. "But then, I had this... accident." Pictures of a crowbar and blood flashed through his mind. "My body was put under immense pressure, trying to... adjust. Well, the result was white hair and different coloured eyes, even though they are back to normal now." Except the times I'm angry or on a killing spree, he added in his head, bitterness in his unspoken words.

He focused on the girl again, who was still staring at his hair, no emotion displaying behind those dark eyes. No confirmation that she had heard what he just said. Damn, and there he thought he was making progress.
He jumped at the shrill peeping sound that suddenly assaulted his ears. "Jesus Christ!" He exclaimed, hand over his racing heart. Shaking his head with a slightly embarrassed smile, he turned to look at the blinking notification on the computer, still peeping incessantly. "Shut up," he grumbled, stomping towards the annoying machine and pressed the enter key. The peeping stopped. Jason looked at the file that had popped up with narrowed eyes.
The computer finally identified the feathered girl.
His eyes raced over the black letters, taking in ever third word or so.

Kayla Stark, gang war, missing, parents, possibly kidnapped, appearance, 8 years ago, dead.

But what really caught his attention was a picture of her when she was younger. Jason knew that people changed when they grow up, the eyes weren't as blue anymore and the hair darkens, but not to this extend. Instead of black eyes, two chocolate brown stared back at him, face framed by light brown locks.
With a start, he realized why she had been so fascinated by his hair, his white bangs in particular.

In a rush, he was next to her again, gently turning her face to look at him. She didn't react. "Those men that kidnapped you... Kayla" he begun, searching for any kind of emotion in her almond eyes, "What they did to you... It changed you, didn't it? Not just mentally, but also your appearance. Your hair and eyes..." He slumped back in the chair still seated next to her. "Guess we're more alike then I thought." He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts.
"I think I get why you don't talk." As his eyes flittered over her face, he saw scepticism in her eyes. She didn't believe he did. "This accident I told you about," he stopped to gulp down the lump forming in his throat. He hadn't talk about this to anyone but Dick, but if it helped her get over her fear, it was worth risking a mental breakdown later.

"I... was with a bad man, too." At that, her eyes actually focused on him. "He..." Jason took a deep breath and steeled himself to relive the most scarring event in his life. "He encouraged me to scream and beg, but being defiant or insolent was a big no-no." He chuckled darkly, eyes far away. "Everything that made him feel more powerful was a go, everything else..." He shuddered as phantom pain ripped through his body. "I learned the hard way not to talk back." His hand shook slightly as he ran it through his unruly hair. "So yeah, I get why you don't wanna talk, but you don't have to be afraid to talk to me. And I can prove it." Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in question.
Jason felt a strange sense of relieve that he was finally getting somewhere. She was at least acknowledging him now.

He stood up and grabbed Tim's phone that still laid on the table- the kid had been looking for it for two hours now, but watching him through the cameras that showed the manor, running around and crawling under beds and tables, was just too much fun.
He unlocked the phone- his password was Stephanie- and looked for the video feed from his helmet camera. It had been transmitted to Tim's phone live and showed how he had rescued Kayla from the cage she had been put in. "Ha!" He exclaimed, once he found what he had been looking for. He went back to sit next to her, her head fully turned to him now, eyes not so lifeless anymore. "This is the video feed of your rescue. I found you and brought you here. I'm not the enemy," he assured her and pressed play.

Throughout the whole thing, Kayla didn't avert her eyes, but watched with fierce intensity. After it was over and Jason had hidden Tim's phone inside the tires of the Batmobile- what? The brat had it coming after dying his white bangs neon pink- he settled down next to Kayla once again. "So you see, I'm only trying to help, but you gotta let me help you. I understand that it's not easy to trust anyone after being held captive for so long, but you can trust me. I want to help."

He waited for her answer, body tense in anticipation. And then she talked, her voice hoarse and quite from being out of order for so long. "How can you trust someone after being unable to do so for so long?"
Jason chewed on his bottom lip, racking his brain for an answer. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he answered, "I don't know. But if I did it, so can you. After the... Well, after being hurt, I didn't trust anyone for a long time. I didn't trust the people I once called family and friends. I did some real messed up stuff, but now... I started to trust them again, even though only very slowly. But they forgave me, and after some time... I forgave myself. And that was my way of recovery, squaring what I did with my conscience. I can't tell you what your way is, but I know that you'll find it. After all, I did, too."

She was silent for a moment, considering his words and then, slowly and painfully, sat up, stretching her wings to either side of the bed. She turned her body, finger ghosting over the black feathers, watching in amazement as they shimmered silvery under her touch. It was a beautiful sight. "I was never able to actually use them," she confessed, voice quiet and tired. Jason suspected she would fall asleep soon. "I... I saw them as a curse," she continued, "But... they are beautiful."
Jason nodded in agreement, smiling faintly. She was finally opening up and coming out of her comfort zone. "I-" Coughs racked her body and she winced. "Do you want something to drink?" Jason offered, wondering when she last drank or ate something.
After a short moment of hesitation, she nodded, eyeing him carefully. Jason got up, filling a glass with cold water and returned, only to see Kayla sound asleep, wings wrapped around her like a cocoon once again. He watched her for a second, before the urge to yawn took hold of him. He had been awake for the whole night and half of the day, maybe he should follow her example and get a good piece of sleep himself. He left the water on the chair next to her in case she woke up and, with a sudden wave of nausea, dragged himself up the stairs. Yeah, sleep sounded very good right now.

203 hours before:
Wayne Manor's kitchen

Lunch at the Manor was always a challenge. And not only because all present people had different tastes, but it also almost every time ended in a full blown food fight. But, today was different. Maybe it was the shock or just the bone deep tiredness, but they didn't act like they usually would and Damian could practically feel Alfred's worry. He, for one part, was actually happy about some quiet time. He could eat without having to watch flying knives and forks and plates and everything that was even remotely throwable.

With Todd still asleep, Drake sulking because he couldn't find his phone, Father eating and Grayson lost in his thoughts, there was beautiful silence. But, despite enjoying the peace, Damian couldn't help but worry about Grayson. His big brother had been acting weird since the morning and Damian just couldn't imagine why. This wasn't the first case that made him question if creatures like Killer Crock were the real monsters. But it had never affected the eldest like this before. He had barely eaten anything this morning and now, he was just pushing his food around, eyes somewhere far away.

Damian sighed. Grayson was the brother he admittedly liked the most, meaning that he liked him at least a little bit, and he was annoyed that he had softened so much he actually worried now. His mother would be so disappointed in him.
A plan formed in his mind. Maybe, Grayson was just tired or freaked out by the whole scientists-expreiment-on-kids-to-grow-wings thing and it was nothing serious, but there was only one way to find out.
"Grayson?" he asked, ignoring the other heads that were raised, too. "I require your assistance with my homework this afternoon." He kept on ignoring the surprised stares of the others (he never ask for help in front of everyone) and watched his older brother carefully.

He seemed conflicted for some reason and then an apologetic smile grazed his features. "I'm sorry, Little D, but I have some research to do."
Damian's and everyone else's eyes widened. Dick never turned Damian down like this, not if he was asking for help. That was all the confirmation Damian needed. This wasn't just the lack of sleep or the case, something was seriously wrong with his brother.
Grayson, who squirmed under the attention of everyone's stares, muttered, "I should start right now. I'll be in the cave." And then he quickly, almost as if he was fleeing from them, left the kitchen.

"You tested him," concluded Bruce the second Grayson was gone. Damian nodded. "Something his wrong with him, father."
Bruce threw a thoughtful glance at the door Dick had run through. "Yes... something's wrong," he muttered almost to himself, but Damian heard him anyway and his worry increased.

203 hours before:
Batcave

Dick felt slightly guilty for letting Damian down like that, but he had to figure out who this 'partner' of Castor was, so he went straight to the computer, quickly glancing at the sleeping girl- Kayla, he remembered- and hacked into the mainframe of the Justice League computer. They had files on every member, and that meant they had also files on the enemies that had been able to defeat them. Opening Batman's file, he went straight to the classified information, taking a minute to hack his way past the security and opening the files of Batman's most dangerous opponents.

"Defeated, defeated," he muttered, looking for the right key to press. "There!" He winced. That had been louder than he intended it to be. He quickly glanced at Kayla, but she was still sleeping, a tight frown on her face. Dick returned his attention to the monitor, opening the files he'd been looking for.

His eyes scanned the first page.
Bane, aka. Eduardo Dorrance
"He broke Batman's back," mused Dick, "But no personal beef with me." He frowned. "Well, aside from the typical hero vs villain stuff." He shook his head. Bane was a possibility, but he hoped it wasn't him, he really didn't have time for a muscle-monster right now.

Clayface, aka. Basil Karlo
"Please not the slimy guy." Dick muttered, face scrunched up in a disgusted grimace. Clayface was a dangerous villain, but honestly, Dick somehow doubted it was him.

Finger hovering over the keyboard, he jumped when he heard glass shatter. Spinning around, he saw Kayla, staring at him with wide terrified eyes. "Hey, hey," he soothed, hands up and in front of him to show he was unarmed. "No need to worry, I'm a friend." She didn't move, just kept on watching him.
Then she asked, "You're Richard, right?" He nodded. "Jason told me about you." He nodded again, but a strange feeling knotted his stomach into a small ball. But then again, he had had that feeling the whole day, so it probably didn't mean anything. "Are you okay?" he asked, giving her a once over. She bobbed her head slightly and laid back down, arms wrapped around her chest.

"I... There were two men." Dick frowned. Here, in the cave? "Where?"
She averted her eyes. "There. Where the men in white suits held me." And Duck understood, mouth shaping an 'O'. "They often came to supervise," she continued, her small frame quivering slightly. "One always stayed in the shadows. He never talked and I never saw more than his silhouette." She shuddered. "He was big, but defenitifly human. He scared me. But the other guy, he..." She audibly gulped. "He killed them for fun. Just because he wanted to. He laughed while slitting the lab coat-men's throats." She shuddered again and Dick himself felt cold all of a sudden. "Did you get his name?" He asked, voice sharp as a knife. She nodded and closed her eyes and as she spoke again, her voice was heavy with sleep. "C-castor, I think. I just thought you should know, I forgot to tell Jason." And then she was asleep again, leaving a shell-shocked Dick to stand there alone, mouth agape.

So Castor was behind this, too? Why? It didn't make any sense. He thought this was some sort of personal vendetta against him, or was that just a cover for his operation in Gotham? He averted his eyes from Kayla, feeling a sudden sense of guilt. If this was some act of revenge against him, than all those children... No, he couldn't even finish the thought. He furiously blinked away tears and turned back to the computer. He needed more information. He needed to know the name of the alley of that maniac. Asap.

Human shaped ruled out Clayface.

Kobra, aka. Jeffrey Franklin Burr
Dick groaned. Probably not. That guy didn't have a history with him. Next.

Talon
Dick shuddered. No, just no. He really couldn't deal with the Court of Owls right now (or ever). He'd heard stories from Bruce about them, terrible stories, and he wasn't planning on meeting them.

The next name earned a small chuckle.

Red Hood, aka. Jason Todd
"Yeah, obviously not."

He ruled out the next two subjects, too, them being Wonder Woman and Superman, also for obvious reason.

He hesitated at the next name.
Ra's al Guhl
Now, the demon's head defenitifly was an option. He had been obsessed with his family since forever, wanting Bruce as his heir and all. Dick sighed and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand.
It would make more sense if Ra's would target the others though. Damian was his grandson, Tim was the most like Batman and Ra's had always had a sick fascination with him, Cassandra's background and Jason's resurrection made them the more obvious targets. But then again, maybe he was being used to get to the others?

Because I'm not interested in the anyone else.

Don't you remember me?

No, this was about him. He wasn't just a pawn in someone else's game of chess, he was the king. The white king. He just wasn't sure who the black king was yet. Castor or this partner of his. Dick groaned as he realized that he was getting wrapped up in the game Castor was playing. If the madman really was part of the organization that turned children into whatever you want to call them, then this was more than a simple act of revenge or possession. Maybe he should tell Bruce.

Oh, and I suggest you keep this conversation to yourself. I've already proven that I have intel on your personal life, and you don't want me to let all Gotham know who their heroes really are, do you?

A long and deep sigh left Dick's lips. He couldn't tell anyone, not with the string of lies and blackmail around his neck. One wrong step and he'd hang himself and everyone else probably, too.

Deathstroke, aka. Slade Wilson.
Dick's breath caught in his throat. He sure as hell had a history with Slade Wilson, but Dick couldn't imagine him working with someone like Castor. And Wilson couldn't still want revenge for what had happened all those years ago, right? Dick shook his head. No, no one holds a grudge for that long and Deathstroke had better things to do than torment him.

Lady Shiva, aka. Sandra Wu-San
Dick's eyes narrowed as a thought crossed his mind. Lady Shiva was known for travelling and challenging the world's greatest fighters, but, even though he knew that he was outstanding good when it came to material arts, he was nowhere near her league. He couldn't imagine that she would take an interest in him, especially with fighters like Cass and Bruce in the same household.

He carried on to the next file, only to stare in the face of Bane again. "That's it?!" he exclaimed, somewhat shocked that only those few villains managed to defeat Batman. Sure, B. was good, but he was still only human. Dick shook his head in disappointment. This research may have narrowed down the list of suspects, but he didn't necessarily liked the result. The top three villains he'd picked were Ra's al Guhl, Deathstroke and admittedly Bane, after all, Dick had messed with his operations as Robin a lot. But he couldn't really imagine him working with Castor. Bane was a shoot first, or in his case smash first, ask questions later guy, whereas Castor seemed to have planned this through. His goal was to make Dick suffer mentally, to walk him towards the edge, before leaving him there to decide, jump or turn back, knowing that, if he twisted his fingers inside Dick's mind just right, he'd take the first option, and that was more Ra's al Ghul's or Deathstroke's MO.
Dick's fist met the table with a thud. "Damn!"
He was completely helpless right now.

192 hours before:
Midnight
Old Gotham Factory district
On patrol

Damian Wayne had had a long day. And no, it hadn't had anything to do with hero related business, or anything abnormal. No, it actually was an evil every boy and girl his age had to deal with: homework. Homework sucks. Sadly, asking Grayson for help hadn't only been meant as a test, he'd really needed help with his math assignment. But, not wanting to ask his father, or god forbid, his other siblings, he'd done it by himself, which was a disaster and ended in a lot of broken pens. He'd hoped to talk to his oldest brother on patrol, but Dick had been out of it for the whole day, so father forbid him and Todd, who had still been half asleep, to go.

Strangely enough, Grayson had put up one hell of a fight to go with Damian, for a reason the young boy couldn't quite grasp, but in the end, Dick had submitted to their father's burning glare, and told Damian to be extra careful this night.
But that wasn't the only reason for Damian's sore mood (not that he hadn't been in a sore mood all day), but his father had insisted on leaving his Katana at home, because he had been- according to Bruce- too aggressive to be trusted with a sword tonight. -Tt-. So he had to relay on his other gadgets.

Anyways, now he sat (not sulking at all) on the ledge of a rooftop, overlooking the abondened factory buildings. It was a rather grim sight, grey and black wherever he looked. The streets were deserted, except for a lonely stray dog. Taking pity on him, Damian fired his grappling gun and landed gracefully on the floor, doing a roll to mitigate the impact with the rough ground. He slowly advanced the animal, taking off his hood to appear less threatening.
The dog looked at him with big brown eyes, carefully trotting closer. Damian extended his hand, crouching down and it sniffed at it, and then licked Damian's fingers, leaving drool dripping off the twelve year old's hand. Damian made a disgusted but somewhat fond face, shaking the spit off his glove and using his other one to ruffle the dark fuzzy fur.

The animal made a pleased sound, rubbing his head against the side of Damian's face, purring like a cat. "You're a good boy, aren't you?" Damian asked thoughtfully, a comfortable sigh leaving his lips. "Why can't humans be like animals? Then maybe I could actually tolerate them."

He cuddled- not that he'd ever call it that- with the dog some more, before its behaviour drastically changed. From being comfortable and cosy, the dog- Damian dubbed him Frank- suddenly became agitated, growling in random directions. Damian narrowed his eyes and slowly, calculating, stood back up. He learned to trust his instincts and they were screaming at him to get off the God damn street. Down there, he was at a disadvantage. He looked back at Frank, only to see him running away, tail between his legs and feeping pathetically.

Straightening, Damian pulled his hood back up, shrouding his face in shadows. He once again wished to feel the secure weight of his sword in his hands. He took out his grabbing gun and fired at the nearest building, swinging up to the rooftop.
He landed in a crouch, carefully observing his surroundings. He could feel someone's eyes on him, but pretended to not notice, letting the Batarang he had hidden in his right sleeve fall into his hand, unseen by anyone else. He walked across the building, keeping a casual pace, eyes flickering left and right behind the mask, but he couldn't detect anyone in the darkness of the night. But he could hear.

Whoever was stalking him may be good at staying unseen in the shadows, but Damain's sense of hearing was able to make out the slightest of sounds, even his father sometime didn't manage to sneak up on him. It was one of the many lessons he'd learned from his mother: Hearing is the most important sense.
Always know where your enemy is, she'd said, even if you can't see him.
And he'd mastered that task with bravo. So he knew that the man or woman following him, was somewhere behind him to his left, keeping a 13 feet distance.

Damian appeared to be looking over the edge of the building, oblivious to the threat lurking behind him. It was an easy tactic, lull the opponent into a false sense of security and surprise him with a smooth deflection of the attack that's supposed to be a surprise attack. And whoever was his attacker fell for his trap.

When the first blow came, Damian swiftly dodged, rolling to his right and away from the edge, throwing his attacker momentarily off balance.
When the guy- he was defenitifly masculine- turned to face him, Damian took in his appearance, not sure where on his list of dangerous people he should place him. The guy looked young, early twenties maybe, but with hard features and, most importantly, blue hair. Damian seriously considered scolding him for something so stupid. A feature like that could have easily been used to identify someone. The man seemed to scan him, too, frowning at something.

"You're not him," he stated, his voice was high for a man, but cold as ice. Damian narrowed his eyes, his defensive position tightening. "I do not know what you are talking about," he growled, shifting his weight to the left, seeing as the man had done the same. It would be easier to dodge an attack that way. The blue haired man huffed in disgust. "You don't deserve to wear his name and his colours." His voice dripped with venom and Damian forced back a deep growl. The guy was talking about Grayson. "What is your business with me?" he asked instead, trying to find out more about him. The man's lip curled into a cruel smile and a snarl appeared on Damian's face, a very intimidating snarl for a twelve year old. His mysterious attacker chuckled coldly, "I was hoping to meet him, but I guess his replacement will do, too. Attacking you will most certainly have the same effect. It's just a shame I won't have a real challenge tonight." His mocking tone set Damian on edge. "I am more than qualified to take you down, imbecile."
The man laughed, eyeing him sceptically, like he was some insolent child. "Go home to mommy and get a diaper change, kid. I have been trained by the best."
Damian smirked, knife now visible in his hand, glinting dangerously in the pale moonlight. "So have I."

Jesus Christ, my longest chapter yet. Over 7800 words. The fight will happen in the next chapter, but I'm not so sure I can write fighting scenes, so please comment on that. I hope you liked it, I worked weeks on this...