Okay, so I know that there hasn't been any Young Justice so far, but that's gonna change soon. It takes place sometime after season 2 and before season 3, so Aqualad is team leader again, Wally is dead ?, Bart is Kid Flash and Artemis is Tigress, THE MOUNTAIN'S NOT DESTROYED! and so on.

191 hours before (8 days):

1 in the morning

From the beginning of their fight, Damian knew that Castor had underestimated him. The way he'd arrogantly challenged him, the way he looked down on Robin like Damian was below him and his choice of words, like he was talking to a little kid. But, as much as Damian hated to admit it, the same went for him.

He'd underestimated Castor's determination to crush him. But Damian was known to be a dangerous enemy. Sure, he's only been Robin for two years and Robin was known as Batman's child-sidekick, running around like a traffic light, but Damian wasn't just Bruce Wayne's son, or Batman's son, or even Robin, Damian was an assassin, heir to the demon and the most skilled Robin, not even Grayson had been as good of a fighter at his age. He was the grandson of Ra's al Guhl and he wouldn't lose to some scumbag looking for an easy win.

He still cursed Bruce for forbidding him to bring his Katana, his well-known weapon.

Damian had to decide between Batarangs and brass knuckles now. From his enemy's movements, it was clear that Castor was agile and strong, but not overly muscled, probably well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, so Damian decided to keep his distance and use his own speed and size to get in quick hits and then be out of reach in a matter of seconds. It was a tactic he used on opponents like Todd, foes who were bigger and stronger than him, thus slower.

He slipped four Batarangs from his sleeve, two in each hand and readied himself to throw, eyes never leaving the man's crouched form. "Usually, I know the names of the imbeciles I beat up," he smirked, satisfied as his opponent sneered. "Do they know your name, too?"

"Everybody knows my name," Damian replied, a hint of arrogance lacing his words. The man laughed darkly, fury burning in his cold eyes. "Naming yourself and dressing yourself like him doesn't mean you are him. You are not Robin, you're a pretender, a little boy hiding behind a legend."

At that, Damian growled, fingers clenching around the Batarangs. Yes, Grayson had brought Robin to life, but Damian continued his legacy and this low life thug had no right to judge him, had no right to pull his pride through the dirt like that. And Damian didn't tolerate people who tried to humiliate him. He was Damian Wayne, but he was also an al Ghul and he'd show that wanna-be villain what kind of Robin he was.

He was no Dick Grayson, he didn't hesitate to seriously hurt his enemies, to maim or kill (okay, maybe he did hesitate with that last one nowadays) but he hadn't unlearned it. He knew how to cause the most pain without drawing much blood, he knew which body parts to hit to paralyze someone and he still knew how to kill with one easy flick of his wrist.

A bone-chilling smile spread across his face. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

The older scoffed, scepticism radiating off his body. "You're what, ten? What chance do you stand against a grown man, kiddo?"

As Damian's smile didn't waver, the man seemed to grow uneasy, waiting for a response, but Damian just twirled the Batarangs in his right hand once and flashed him a sharp grin. I'm twelve, you imbecile, he corrected in his head, before sending the four Batarangs flying all at once. He didn't wait to see if the man could dodge them or not, pulled two more out of his utility belt and attacked.

Castor ducked and rolled to the side, twisting his body to let the Batarangs fly past him, but one sliced a deep gash in his calf, while another grazed his left biceps, blood slowly soaking his long sleeve shirt. Damian saw him grit his teeth at the pain. Robin tensed and readied himself to jump as the man took two daggers from his belt to counter attack.

Castor had barely enough time to readjust his stance as the boy flew at him with lightning speed, Batarangs glinting sharp in his hands. He ducked as Not-robin, he was not gonna accept any other Robin than Dick Grayson, sliced through the air where his head had been only minutes ago, and shot his left arm forwards, while twisting to his right, and caught the boy's wrist before he could stab his Axillary artery, which would cause him to bleed out if not attended to.

The kid- Castor really needed to call him something... how about Dave, let's call him Dave- send a powerful kick that hit its mark right between Castor's legs and hit him with an uppercut, successfully making him release his other hand. Not wanting to be beaten by someone called Dave, Castor swung his legs across the rooftop, hoping to knock the kid off his feet, but he did a hand-spring backwards and landed gracefully and eyed him with guarded eyes.

With a start, Castor realized something. Dave was skilled. Not just the average ten-year-old-vigilante skilled, but trained-from-birth skilled. This boy was different from all the others. He went for the kill, probably something he grew up with. Castor smirked. That was something he could use.

"So, how come a boy your age knows how to fight like that?"

Instead of answering, Dave- seriously, that name was fitting- came at him again, feigning a right hook to the chin, but aiming lower in the last second and hitting Castor in the chest. Pain blossomed from where the gloved fist had met his flesh, and Castor stumbled backwards, trying to breath deeply. The kid was getting on his nerves.

"C'mon, don't ignore me, I just wanna talk," he whined and blocked Dave's incoming right fist with his right underarm and did a 360 degrees spin and let the back of his hand connect with the side of the kid's head, knocking him down and sending him rolling a few feet away.

"Kids these days," he sighed, "No respect for their elders."

To his unwilling amazement, Dave just shook his head, as if trying to clear it of any dizziness, and raised back to his feet, blood trailing down the side of his head. With a scowl, he reached back and pulled his hood back up, which had gotten knocked down during the fight.

"You're gonna regret that," he growled and Castor took a subconscious step back. Looking like this, face all bloody, hood covering his eyes and Batarangs gleaming between his fingers, the boy reminded him of some dark force of nature, not a small pre-teen who wore spandex and leggings.

"No, I won't." He took a slow step towards the ledge of the building, eyes trained on the sidekick. "This will be enough for now. Until next time, Dave."

And with that, he jumped.

When Robin reached the edge of the rooftop, the man was already gone. Growling, he clenched his fists, ignoring the pounding in his head. "Who's Dave?!" He screamed, frustration evident in his voice. Why did he let him get away? And the man's fighting style... It felt familiar, like Cass' or his...

Scowling, Damian made his way to the ground and looked at the horizon, where the sun was peeking through the buildings. Time to return home.

The second he entered the cave, something big and lean and brother-y enfulged him in a hug. "Get off of me, Grayson," he spit, shoving at his brother, but the athlete didn't budge and Damian tutted, squirming out of the unwanted sign of affection.

"What happened?!" exclaimed the elder anxiously, once he saw the dried blood coating the side of his head. Damian took off his hood and glared at the others, who were already back from patrol. His thoughts were running wild and he closed his eyes to restore some order in his head. He let the last hour replay before his inner eye, trying to make sense of what had happened. Something about all of this bothered him, his eyebrows knitting in a tight scowl. It wasn't uncommon that Robin was attacked in Gotham, but most opponents weren't trained fighters with moves only taught by the League of Shadows. And it was also common knowledge that there had been two Robins, after all, Damian's fighting style, weapons and especially his body stature were different from Grayson's, so it didn't take much to figure out that the Robin mantle had been passed on. But obviously, his attacker hadn't known, which could mean he was either oblivious to obvious facts, hadn't been in Gotham for over two years, or he had been left in the dark intentionally by a third party.

And then Grayson's strange behaviour this evening, when he'd thrown a tantrum about not wanting to let Damian go out by himself.

Damian's pricing eyes narrowed at his brother and he asked, trying to keep his voice levelled, "I think it is strange for you to show such obvious discomfort with me patrolling alone, even though I am qualified to do so. Of course, it would make sense, if you knew something was about happen."

Grayson seemed to shrink in on himself and squirmed under his siblings' sharp eyes, not meeting their questioning gazes. Damian recognized with growing dread that Grayson was ashamed, his body language basically telling them that something was wrong, that he was hiding something.

"I was just worried, because I couldn't come with you," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice from betraying his nervousness. "I am very well able to defend myself and this was not the first time I patrolled without anyone supervising me," Damian responded, scoffing at Grayson's obvious lie. "And you are aware of that, Grayson. Something is wrong with you," he stated, crossing his arms, voice tight with anger and worry (not that he'd ever say that out loud).

"The man that attacked me was surprised that it was not you under the mask. He said some interesting things. You'll explain what is going on," he demanded, voice rising.

To everyone's surprise (and worry), Dick had retreated a few steps during Damian's angry speech, face turning white as a sheet. A faint tremor took hold of his hands and his eyes flickered from person to person. He looks like a cornered animal, Damian thought, eyeing the first Robin closely.

Dick, seemingly not knowing what else to do, hissed, "Leave me alone," and bolted.

The cave was left in silence for a tense moment, until Todd, glaring at everybody who'd even think of standing in his way, stomped after his older brother, wrinkles of concern on his forehead.

Father sighed and sat down on his chair, looking like he wanted to do nothing more than run after his son himself, and Drake, Cain, Brown and Pennyworth (when did he come down to the Cave?) all looked at Damian for an explanation.

"I was on patrol, when I felt someone following me," he began, shrugging out of his cape, "it was a man, early twenties, lean, with blue hair. He attacked me, but I managed to fight him off. His fighting style was close to that of the League. We fought. In the end, he escaped."

Cass watched Damian carefully, seeing what others couldn't. When he said the last sentence, his whole body language screamed failure. The way his eyes darted through the room, how he was glaring at everyone but Bruce, keeping his body in the direction of the steps that led out of the Cave... he was expecting to be scolded for his failure, for letting the man get away. He felt insecure.

Cass, knowing the League's way of dealing with failures and that the lessons they teach always linger in the back of one's head, slowly stepped forward and laid a hand on Damian's arm, smiling once and then stepping back again.

Damian didn't slap her hand away, nor did he sneer at her. He just let it happen, surpassing a small, non-existent smile. Even though he hated to admit that he did feel... out of place sometimes, Cain understood, and she showed it in ways only he could detect and he was greatful for that. No one else needed to know.

189 hours before:

Dick's room

Jason stood before Dick's door, unsure if he should knock or not. Ever since the whole Joker fiasco, Dick and he hadn't kept any secrets from one another, but Dick was hiding something and Jason wanted to know what. He might be the rogue bat, but he was still part of the Batfamily and that meant being there for each other... okay, he did try to kill Tim once, but that was totally justified.

Instead of knocking- seriously, who needed good manners?- he just barged right into the room, slamming the door against the wall. "Okay, Dickhead, what put a twist in your pants?"

Jason frowned when he found the room empty. "Great," he groaned, noticing the open window.

Stomping over to it, he peered outside and twisted his head to look up at the roof, detecting his brother's silhouette near the edge. He rolled his eyes and started climbing out of the window, grumbling that he was not a freaking monkey.

"Nice view," he said quietly, sitting down next to Dick, letting his eyes travel over the quiet city. Usually, Gotham was never quiet, especially not at night, but Wayne Manor lay outside of the heart of the city and the only sound was the wind rustling through the surrounding trees. Gotham appeared almost peaceful, with the soft lights and bright moon, shining in the dark of the night.

Dick shrugged his shoulders. "I come here often. To think, mostly."

Jason nodded, his eyes still trained on the city he was born in. "I know."

There was a moment of silence and Jason sneaked a glance at Dick's pale face, noticing the creases of worry on his forehead and the tightly pressed-together lips. "What was that down there?" he finally asked, trying to keep his voice causal, kicking the wall with his feet lightly.

"Nothing," replied the older boy, an edge to his voice. Jason frowned and turned to fully face him. "That's a whole load of shit and I'm not buying it. Something's been bugging you since yesterday and this attack on the Demon Brat only made it worse. And the way you acted before patrol, that wasn't normal either. Damian is a friggin' assassin and has been out on his own before, but you acted like he was some kid who shouldn't be out there on his own. You knew exactly what would happen, didn't you?"

He breathed loudly at the end of his rant, looking at Dick in expection. He could see the battle going on inside his brother's head and as Dick just shook his dark strands and muttered, "Doesn't matter", Jason felt his heart clench. Admittingly, Dick lying to him hurt.

He scoffed. "Right, 'cause Robin getting hurt doesn't matter. You do realize that that guy was aiming for you, right?"

For some time, Dick said nothing, and Jason was brooding, glaring at the distance. "C'mon, Dick, I want to help!"

"You can't," sighed Dick and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess it's pointless hiding that something's wrong," he continued, glancing at Jason, "But I can't tell you, I'm sorry."

Jason breathed deeply, closing his eyes with a resigned sigh. "Can't or won't?"

"Can't," clarified Dick, pulling his knees to his chest. "I want to tell you, Jay, damnit, I want to tell all of you, but I can't, you have to believe me, please."

Jason's eyes were sad when he looked at his brother. "Fine." But nothing was fine. If Dick couldn't tell them what was bothering him, it was either only concerning him and he didn't want any help (something Nightwing related, probably), or someone asked, or rather told, him not to tell anyone else, or he felt like he had to carry the weight of whatever was happening on his own to protect his family (or because he messed up and didn't want to drag the others into his mess). Jason didn't know which one was worse.

187 hours before:

Batcave

Eventually, Jason and Dick had rejoined the group and Dick had given Damian a minute long apology-hug (Damian had looked like he wanted to die) and Bruce had decided to send Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass and Steph to Mount Justice, saying they would be safer there and he'd watch over Kayla, who Alfred had moved to a guest bedroom.

Dick hadn't seen the team since... since Wally's death. It was strange, going back now. He could feel the worried glances of his siblings on the back of his head and took a deep breath, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Do they know we're coming? And are they even awake? It's like 5 in the morning."

Bruce nodded and said, "Get ready to leave in an hour."

The man grabbed Jason's arm on his way out. "Look after Dick, something is wrong with him."

Jason gave a curt nod and Bruce let him go, eyebrows knitted together in worry.

186 hours before:

Mount Justice

Artemis was sitting on the table, freshly baked cookies next to her. The team was gathered in the kitchen, waiting for the bats to arrive. It had been a shock to everybody, hearing that Nightwing would return, especially since Batman didn't give any proper reason, just a "You need all hands on deck for the next mission" and that was it. Artemis sighed sadly, remembering why Dick had left in the first place. She hoped his return would change her sour mood, after all, they had been a team far longer than the current Young Justice team. After figuring out who Bruce Wayne and his family really were, the boys had joined them and after some time, so did Barbara as Batgirl. It shook them all to the core to hear what happened to Babs, but they welcomed Steph as the new Batgirl and Cassandra as Orphan and Barbara came to visit occasionally (wheelchair-bound, but it was better than the alternative).

And after they'd defeated the Reach and Nightwing had left, the other Batkids grew distant and acted more in Gotham, only joining the team when needed, not hanging out in the Mountain anymore.

Her gaze travelled over Kaldur, Megan, Connor, Bart, Gar, Jaime and Cassie. She sighed again, realizing that Kaldur was the only founding member left and Connor, Megan and herself the last remaining members of the original team.

174 hours before:

6 pm

The bats had arrived around 12 hours ago and the teens had tried to at least catch a few more hours of sleep before starting their day. After lunch, they'd all gathered around the couch, Connor watching static on TV again, and Nightwing had filled them in on the shit that has been going on in Gotham. Of course, Artemis had heard rumours and had seen the news, but no one actually knew why those dead kids kept popping up on the streets. She'd seen parents forbidding their children to go outside and play, too afraid of what was going on. Some suspected a serial killer, others aliens and still others had theories about secret government experiments, which was apparently not as far from the truth as she'd thought.

And now, Batman was assigning them for a new mission.

"This," he said, pointing at a video file of the Happy Harbor docks, "was recorded yesterday night at 11:54 pm." He pressed the play button and Artemis narrowed her eyes, trying to see on the dark. There were tankers, a few yachts and some small boats, rocking peacefully back and forth on the mostly calm water. Artemis saw a shadow from the corner of her eyes and snarled as she realized that it was a member of the League of Shadows.

"Is that...?" asked Megan and Batman nodded, silencing her again and telling them to keep watching. The assassin was hiding behind some crates, watching the captain of one of the smaller, inconspicuous looking boats.Artemis averted her eyes milliseconds before the blade slit the man's throat. Gar made a choked off sound. Batman stopped the video and turned his attention back to the team. "After killing the captain, he stole his boat and took it somewhere. Flash got the intel that a huge shipment will arrive at one of those three points," he pointed at three different places along the docks. "We don't know where said shipment will dock at and I want you to oversee all three locations and prevent the League from getting that shipment. You already know what the ship looks like, so it shouldn't be too hard to find."

172 hours before:

The docks

Damian was perched on top of one of the yachts lining the docks (He was pretty sure at least three were his father's) and kept a close eye on his surroundings. Since they were assigned for this mission, he had been wondering what his mother and grandfather were planning. Usually, the League liked to keep to itself, forging their own weapons and growing their own food. If they went to this lengths, then they really wanted whatever was on that ship.

He could see Grayson's still form on the rooftop to his right. Kaldur had decided that he himself, Robin, Nightwing, Superboy and Blue Beetle were α-squad. β-squad consisted of Red Hood, Red Robin, Miss Martian, Beast Boy and Wonder Girl. Damian pursed his lips. Putting Drake and Todd on the same team was a huge risk considering Todd's temper.

Orphan, Batgirl, Tigress and Kid Flash were γ-squad.

His team had split into two separate groups, watching their part of the docks from different warehouses. Behind him sat Blue Beetle, while Superboy and Aqualad were with Nightwing. Probably for old time's sake. For thirty minutes, they had been keeping watch now and Damian usually had no problem with long stake outs, but Beetle's constant questions were giving him a headache.

He chose to ignore the older boy and concentrated on the mission. "What does the Robin suit feel like?" No answer.

"Are you older than Nightwing when he became Robin?" Again, he ignored him.

"Why are you so serious?" Damian groaned inwardly, but kept a cool facade, not betraying his annoyance.

"We have a mission to finish and your concentration lays elsewhere when you are talking to me, so shut up and keep looking for Leaguers."

"JLA members?"

"No, you imbecile, League of Shadows members."

Sometimes Damian wondered where Beetle had lost his brain.

The boy nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Right, sorry. I'm just happy to have the band back together. Didn't get to see y'all for some time."

Damian rolled his eyes, face hidden by his hood. "Gotham was busy," he replied shortly, not trying to hide his irritation. Blue was getting on his nerves and Robin wished he could just do this on his own. He knew the League better than anyone and they wouldn't dare kill him, not with who his grandfather was.

"I got visual contact with our assassins," came Aqualad's voice over the comms and Robin focused his eyes on the shadows thrown by crates and ships, trying to detect movement. His gaze settled on three hidden figures right below them and he signalled Blue Beetle to be quiet. He glanced over at the other half of their team and saw the three older heroes jump down from the building, Aqualad using his water bearers to soften the fall and Nightwing swinging on a grappling line.

They didn't make a sound.

Robin waved Beetle closer, pointing at the three and then at the ground and Jaime nodded, extending his wings as Robin took out his own grappling gun, readjusting his cape and hood.

They waited until Aqualad, Superboy and Nightwing were close enough for them to be spotted and jumped down, right as their targets attacked.

It should have been an easy fight, three against five, and at first, things seemed to go smoothly. Robin and Blue Beetle attacked at once, the older boy sending a sonar blast at one assassin, making him crash right into Robin's waiting fist. He crumbled to the floor out cold. Nightwing and Aqualad took on the second opponent, while Connor spotted the boat they had been waiting for and Kaldur motioned him to take out any possible threats. Beetle and Robin turned to the last assassin, just as he send a kick at Damian's head. He ducked and swept his leg across the floor, trying to knock the man off his feet, but he jumped back, twisting to the side to avoid Blue's blade-arms, and threw a knife at the blue superhero's chest. Beetle easily swatted it away, but the Shadow managed to land a solid kick to his side, sending the teen crashing into some crates.

Seeing the man distracted, Damian quickly pulled out a Batarang and threw it. The assassin twisted out of the way, but the sharp device still sliced his arm, embedding itself in the floor behind him. The man snarled angrily at Damian and send a series of kicks and punches at the twelve year old. Damian managed to block most of the attacks, but one strong kick to his ribs caused him to smash into the steel wall of the warehouse, his head banging against it on impact.

Damian fell to the floor stunned, trying to regain his bearings. There was this annoying peeping sound ringing in his ears and he blinked sluggishly. Why was everything spinning? He slowly propped himself on his forearms, trying to get back up, but someone kicked his arm out from under him and he crumbled back to the floor, vision still blurred.

He blinked a few more times to get his sight to clear and saw a man dressed in black standing over him, his arms raised, a dagger in his hands.

And then there was a small knife sticking out of the man's chest, blood splattering on Damian's face. The assassin's mouth opened in a silent 'oh' and then almost in slow motion, he fell backwards, the dagger clattering to the floor. Damian turned his head to the left, trying to see who had thrown that knife and therefore saved his life, but a cloth was suddenly put over his mouth and nose and Damian had enough sense to hold his breath, even without having to smell the sweet aroma of Chloroform.

From somewhere, he heard his name being called, but his hearing was still muffled and he had trouble focusing, especially since his lungs began to burn with the lack of oxygen. He trashed against whoever was holding him, but his movement was sluggish and weak and the need to breath grew steadily. Then, there was a sudden and sharp pain in his side and he gasped in surprise, accidentally breathing in the drug. The world around him began to shift and he desperately tried go keep his eyes open, but it was a losing fight and the last things he saw was his brother's horrified face a few feet away, eyes hidden behind a domino mask. Then everything faded to black.