A/N: Thank you all for the positive feedback! You guys make me unbelievably happy. :)

I also want to thank IndigoElle for helping me figure out what I wanted as far as POVs go. Also, her writing is freaking amazing so you should go check it out.

I have yet to finish Unfortunate Reminder, but your reviews reminded me that it's on my 'to read' list!

So, I will be switching up POVs between Dee and Damian's every other chapter (or at least that's my plan for now) because the direction I hope to take this story in definitely requires his point of view.

With that all said, please enjoy!

Damian's POV

"But Father," I whine, following closely behind his tall, looming figure as he marches upstairs.

"This is not up for debate," he interrupts, not even bothering to turn and face me. It's infuriating. Do I not deserve to be addressed directly like a regular human being? Am I not worthy of respect?

"Why will you not listen to me?" I demand. "I have already told you, I can handle this case. Or do you not trust me enough?"

Father turns back to look at me at last, a fire burning behind his similarly cobalt colored eyes. It's a type of fire that usually gets his opponents to back down, but not me. He should know better than to use that pathetic intimidation tactic one me, his own flesh and blood. I inherited the skill of intimidation. I perfected it. No amount of 'bat-glares' in the world will keep me from bringing up this subject again and again until he relents and gives in to my demands.

"The answer is no, Damian," he repeats, his voice firm enough to effectively shoot down my question. "This is a case that I'd rather do alone. It doesn't require much field work and I'd like to keep you as far away from crimes of this nature as possible."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest in a defensive stance. Though his heart is in the right place, his logic is terribly skewed, and I am not afraid to call him out on it.

"I'm seventeen years old, Father," I argue back. "You no longer have to 'protect' me from rapists-turned-murderers. I know of their existence. My nonexistent innocence is already tainted. And this particular suspect has already displayed a fondness for teenage girls only. I'm not at risk."

His face remains as hard and as cold as stone, completely unfazed. I can tell before he even bothers to reply that the answer remains a strong 'no'. It only proves to anger me further. Does he even bother to listen to me at all? Or does he tune me out as soon as I open my mouth?

"I do not need help on this case. I can do it alone easily. End of story."

I'm unwilling to admit defeat already. I won't admit defeat that quickly.

"But Father –,"

"You cannot get me to change my mind on this matter. You are not helping me on this and that is final. Pushing the issue won't help."

With that, our battle has officially ended with Father emerging the victor. I let out a low, barely audible growl, knowing he will most likely sacrifice patrol for a few nights to get this high risk case solved as quickly as possible. I think foregoing patrol in the name of a case more suited for Gotham PD is positively useless, but it's not like my opinion on the matter means anything to him. No matter what the fight is about, no matter how many good points I bring up, no matter how well prepared I am to make my case, it seems to all fall on deaf ears. I barely have a voice in this household. It is unbelievably frustrating.

"Fine," I hiss through gritted teeth, doing my best to keep my anger from bubbling up and spilling out through my mouth in the form of scathing words. Father's face softens from its original stony state, like he's taking pity on me. It only succeeds in souring my mood even further. There is little on this earth I hate more than pity.

"Take some time for yourself," he suggests. "Go play in the park with Titus or see a movie with that redheaded friend of yours… Colin, correct?"

A scowl forms on my face.

"Are you denying my help on this case because you want me to get out more?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. I resent the sudden intrusion into my social life, or lack thereof. I'm too busy to maintain something as trivial as a close friendship. They're a pain, anyways.

Though I must admit, I do not mind Colin's company…

"No," Father insists, trying to placate me. "I'm just making a suggestion. I'm going to be extremely busy until this case is wrapped up and I don't want you to go stir crazy from being cooped up in here all day."

So I was correct. He's momentarily suspending patrol. I have at least a few days to mope around the Manor doing absolutely nothing.

Wonderful.

"Do not concern yourself with what I do in my spare time," I snap harsher than I intended. "I will find a way to entertain myself."

He opens his mouth slightly, as if he feels like he should push on and say more, but he thinks better of it and shakes his head.

"Very well," he murmurs, signaling that he's given up on this conversation. "Have a good night, Damian."

I give him a curt nod.

"You as well, Father."

With that, I turn sharply on my heels and march upstairs and into my room, shutting the door behind me and throwing myself down onto my small, single bed. My face sinks into the fluffy pillow and I bite back the urge to scream into it out of frustration. This isn't the first time Father has barred me from patrol, and I doubt it will be the last.

But no matter how many times it has happened over the years we've been partners, I'm always filled with the same, unavoidable feeling. All the pent up aggression and frustration that would usually be burned out of my system during patrol ends up building until it spews from me in uncontrollable ways.

I'm seventeen years old. I've come a long way from the ten year old child my father was tasked with wrangling into submission. I've learned to control myself and the angry undertone that tinges all my emotions. Father taught me how to control it. And yet he still doesn't trust me enough to let me go out on even one solo patrol.

Tt.

So much for being partners.

I sit up on my bed, punching my pillow in rage.

Seven years as partners. Seven goddamn years. And I'm still being treated like an irresponsible ten year old with homicidal tendencies. It isn't right. It isn't fair.

I shoot up off my bed, darting out of the room with a mission clear in my mind. If Father doesn't trust me, then I'll just have to prove to him that he can. And what better time to do that than when he's taking one of his frequent, short naps?

I turn the hands on the archaic grandfather clock to 10:47 and swiftly slide down the pole that appears, landing lightly on my feet in the cave. With a smirk pulling at my lips, I walk to my locker and open it, grabbing my uniform and mask.

Why let Father waste weeks tracking this depraved psychopath when I can take him down in one night?

The East End of Gotham is a putrid wasteland full of junkies, harlots, and gangbangers. Gotham is a concrete Hell in general, but the East End makes the rest of the city seem like Dubai in comparison. From my current location the roof of a small café, I can make out the shapes of a few bodies slumped unconscious against a streetlamp with a dirty, discarded needle lying next to one of their limp arms. I shake my head to myself.

The citizens of the East End are the poster children for the 'Say No To Drugs' campaign.

So far, I have yet to see anyone but male junkies walk past this road, though I know it is a popular spot for prostitutes. They must not be stupid, then. Everyone knows about the killings. They've become impossible to ignore, even for the jaded residents of the East End. It seems all night life for teenage girls has ceased. Everyone is too afraid.

Which means it's doubtful I will catch sight of my target tonight.

I let out a low groan of annoyance. Father is most definitely up from his nap by now, and there is no way he hasn't noticed my absence. I'll be grounded for a week, if he is feeling merciful. Unless I can convince him I snuck off to see Colin and conveniently 'forgot' to inform him of my plans beforehand…

It's no use. Father isn't an idiot. He probably checked to see if the uniform was missing. There's no way I'm not grounded.

Which, when patrols are already suspended, really isn't much of a punishment.

I'm just about to jump down onto the awning below, the backdoor to the café opens and floods the alleyway with a bright light and faint, chattering voices. I retreat back into the shadows, looking downwards and waiting for the figure that glides out of the doorway to pass so I can leave.

The light illuminates the person's face, and I can see it's a girl. Just a girl. About my age, maybe younger. I don't give this much more thought as she shuts the door and trudges down the alleyway lazily. I click my tongue in annoyance at her slow pace. The longer I have to wait to get home, the worse my punishment will probably be.

A muffled scream from below takes my mind off my imminent punishment and back to the field.

I peer back down and see two shapes instead of one, the new figure obviously a large man looming over the much smaller girl. I can just barely see his hand covering her mouth as she struggles against him.

I don't give it a second thought as I jump down onto the awning below, sliding off of it and landing on the ground right next to the attempted mugger. But I don't get the chance to grab him and drag him away from the girl.

He's curled up on the ground, holding his face and howling in pain.

It's a tell-tale sign of pepper spray.

My gaze drifts from the scum at my feet to the girl in front of me, breathing clinging onto a can of pepper spray like it's her last life-line. The darkness makes it almost impossible to see the pepper spray in her hand, but the shaking of her hand makes it hard to miss.

She's shaken, no doubt about it. Probably more so from me than from the attempted mugging.

I, on the other hand, am just annoyed.

A swift kick to the attempted mugger's abdomen causes him to curl up into a ball and confirms my suspicions. This scumbag is much too pathetic to be the sophisticated serial killer that has been eluding the authorities for nearly 2 months.

Grabbing the arm of the shaking girl, I drag her out of the alleyway and into the street, ignoring her struggling and her small fist beating against my chest. I can barely even feel it through the Kevlar, though I suspect I'd barely be able to feel it even if I wasn't wearing Kevlar.

She's miniscule compared to me.

"Take your hands off me, you asshole!" she protests. "I'll spray you too!"

I roll my eyes at her attempts to be frightening. She really has no idea who I am.

I pull her underneath the lamppost light, my feet swiping against the side of one of the passed out junkies. When her struggling lets up slightly, I let go of her arm, intending to check her for injuries before finally going home. But I don't get so much as a glance at her newly illuminated form before she slaps me across the face. Hard.

I think that's the first time a hit from a civilian has ever even stung. Just slightly.

I tilt my head back up, watching her gasp and her eyes widen as she realizes who she's hit, and I finally get a good look at her.

She's tanned skinned, most likely of Hispanic heritage, and her straight, light-brown colored hair hangs down to at least to the middle of her back. Her eyes are hazel in color, and wide with disbelief. An embarrassed blush tinges her full cheeks.

Hm. Not the least attractive girl I've ever seen.

"Oh my god," she gasps out. "Y-You're Robin! And I just slapped you!"

Oh gee, and I thought Batman was the detective.

"Oh really?" I ask sardonically. "I didn't notice."

She looks down at her feet, the blush on her cheeks intensifying like the flames to a stove. I narrow my eyes, examining her critically. What about my statement was so blush worthy?

Tt. I give up on trying to understand women.

"I guess I should say sorry…" she trails off, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "But it was your fault for grabbing me. So you kind of had it coming..."

Wait, what?

My mouth pops open and I can do nothing but gape at her, taken aback by her bold words. Most people retreat back into a shell once they see me, like I'm some all-powerful force to be feared or a celebrity to be admired. Yet she defends smacking me.

I don't know if I should be annoyed or intrigued.

"I was trying to help you," I argue, glaring intently at the bold girl. "That's hardly a reason to assault me."

The girl simply gives me an infuriating eye-roll and crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

"Well in case you didn't notice, I managed just fine without your help," she points out cheekily.

Who does she think she is?

"How was I supposed to know that?" I hiss, done reasoning with this stubborn girl. Even worse, as soon as the sentence leaves my lips, a smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth. This amuses her. My taller stature and my reputation can usually make anyone back down, especially if I snap at them. But this girl is entertained by me?

What a strange little creature.

"Well, Robin, if you don't mind stepping aside a bit, it's getting late I'd like to make it home in time to finish my homework."

I step to the side, scowling at her from underneath my mask. She sees this and lets out a short laugh that sounds halfway to a very unladylike giggle. Again, I'm split on annoyance and amusement.

I choose annoyance.

She walks past me, turning back to face me at the last second.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Robin," she exaggerates, tipping an imaginary hat to me. I raise my eyebrows, unable to figure out the girl in front of me. But I must admit she's just a bit interesting…

Interesting and infuriating.

"Likewise, Miss…"

"Dee," she interjects. "It's not like I'll be seeing you ever again, but just in case you happen to be around the next time I get mugged, call me Dee."

I nod curtly at her.

"Try not to get mugged again on your way home, Dee," I reply in a snarky tone before turning back and stalking away in the opposite direction.

I assume that the light laughter slowly fading into the background is the last I will ever hear from this odd girl named Dee.

A/N: Did I lose momentum in the second half? I feel like I did.

But hey, I worked hard on it, so I like it at least.

Please, don't be shy. Tell me what you think! I love to hear from my readers.

I hope to update again soon! :)