19th August 2009

"Kill him," were the only words his mother spoke to him before striding out if the room and leaving him with a single guard and the man hanging from the ceiling by a single chain attached to the manacles around his wrists.

Damian stepped closer to the man, inspecting the bruises and cuts that covered his body. The prisoner was conscious but barely aware; his eyelids drooping closed and every breath rattle slowly through his lungs, showing the extensive damage to his ribcage.

The young Assassin looked down at the dagger in his hand and brought it up to the man's chest. With a lightning quick movement, he stabbed the man right between his clavicles before pulling the knife downwards cutting open the skin and muscle over the ribcage. The prisoner gave a jolt and a muffled whimper before again falling silent as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

Damian new his Mother and Grandfather were watching so he wanted to make this death as entertaining to them as possible so that they might not punish him that night.

Pulling out the dagger, the young boy placed it on a nearby table. He then preceded to stick his small, brown fingers into the cut he had just made. Sinking his fingers in until he felt cartilage, Damian then preceded to dig his fingers between the man's ribs and pull his damaged ribcage apart. A spurt of warm, wet blood hit his face and chest, some of it entering his mouth and leaving an irony tang in its wake.

As Damian's fingers squeezed into the flesh on the inside of the man's chest he felt the man's lungs begin to slow down even as his heart sped up in panic and he weakly started to thrash and moan through the pain. He was incapable of screaming because the state of his lungs and how he couldn't get enough air with the little boy's hands slowly pushing themselves further into his flesh.

With a final jerk, Damian's tiny hand found the man's beating heart and ripped it out of his chest with a sickening squelch that made the guard flinch and look away from the now dead prisoner.

The floor of the cell was covered in a pool of red liquid that was slowly clotting and it stuck to the bottom of Damian's shoes as he stepped away from the corpse and left the room, the man's dripping heart still clenched in his tiny fist.

Damian made his way through the long corridors of the fort, a trail of blood being left in his wake both from his shoes and the organ in his hand.

He entered his Grandfathers office and sunk to one knee before him, holding out the heart like and offering. His Grandfather smiled down at him, before taking the heart and passing it too an attendant." That shall be your dinner tonight, my pet," he said, "well deserved if I do say so myself."

"Thank you Grandfather," replied Damian, outwardly showing no signs of his inner disgust at the prospect of having to eat a man's heart.

Ra's Al Ghul waved his hand and a servant came over with a bowl of water and a pristine white cloth, he dipped his hands into the water and dried them and then motioned for Damian to do the same. When Damian was finished the now sullied cloth and slightly cloudy water were taken away on silent feet by the servant.

"Master Silone is waiting for you in the training rooms," Ra's Al Ghul said," So what are you still doing here?"

Master Silone was a middle-aged woman of Asian descent, her still dark hair was always pulled back in a tight bun. She had once told Damian that the key to having no grey hair was daily meditation to clean the spirit and calm the mind. Talia Al Ghul herself had trained the woman, and it showed in the straight posture and tight clothing that clearly accentuated Master Silone's muscular curves.

"Greetings Master," Damian said as he entered the chamber.

"Damian," she replied, her single word answer giving all the greeting she felt was necessary to a pupil with a lower status than her own. "Warm up." She ordered, and Damian began to run laps around the huge training room.

After a while she called Damian over to the training rings where she handed him a long Katana that was almost too heavy for the five-year-old.

The Asian woman struck quick and strong, going from a neutral stance to full on attack mode in the space of a second. Damian whipped up his sword just as fast and parried her blow before retaliating with one of his own. He first feinted to the left before sweeping his sword up at the last second and striking at the right-hand side of Master Silone's neck. She deflected easily and sent a strong blow at Damian's chest, the deflection of it from his sword knocking him backward a few steps.

Stumbling, he lifted his sword, small arms shaking under its weight, and struck again. The blow was again blocked, and the next, and the next. Until Master Silone through a lightning quick jab at his solar plexus that he couldn't block in time. The sword hit his protective body armer and knocked the boy over.

Master Silone held out a hand for him to take, and Damian, knowing pride was punishable, took it. His mentor pulled him to his feet before sending him off to his rooms. Training was over for the day.