"Hit him harder this time, boss,"
Coughing up blood on his lap, tied to a chair, wasn't exactly how Damian had planned to spend his patrol. But it was nonetheless not exactly unexpected. After all, when someone was as mouthy as himself, they didn't tend to attract very many admirers. It was unpleasant, but he trusted someone was coming for him.
Anyway, how was he to blame for others' acts of violence?
That night had started off fine, or as "fine" as being a night of being a vigilante can be.
Suiting up, he pulled on his boots, finishing getting ready in record time. Literally. He had timed himself and beaten his own record. As he had stated before, a fine start to his patrol.
Walking over to the computer, a smug grin overtook his face. He checked his gear over, sliding his hands over pockets where he should be able to feel some sort of bump. He hated being unprepared, such an easy way to screw oneself over. In his line of work, it would be reckless to knowingly fail to bring any essential item, even ones you don't think you'll need. For example, the time Tim had left his extra batarangs at the cave, brushing them off as excess. As luck would have it, that was the same night Firefly had taken to the streets of Gotham again, or should he say skies.
The burn on Tim's leg had lasted for around two weeks.
Batman's lectures however lasted a good two months. Even a year later, Damian's father loves bringing up that story as a lesson. At this point, it incites less revelation and more irritation from the rest of them. Really, he did appreciate that his father was at least trying to teach them things to lessen possible injuries. It showed a level of care that Damian could recognize as coming from a place of love. But it did get annoying hearing him go on and on, chastising Damian on how he should do things. It was like he didn't believe in him, and that was the one thing… one of many things that could always grind Damian's gears.
Maybe that was why when he hadn't felt the extra, emergency tracker that was supposed to be sewn in by his left side, right above his hip, he did not react. He had lost it the night before when a knife slashed the seams. His father must have forgotten to have it fixed when Damian had logged its absence last patrol. He wasn't jumping up to tell him, he could still patrol. It wasn't as if it would matter. It would be a small slight at his father, something he may or may not be accosted for later. In the grand scheme of things, would this even matter? His father would most definitely say yes, but Damian himself would have to disagree on that point. How many times had one of them forgotten something, and it had turned out fine?
… Yes, he was rationalizing, but honestly, he just wanted to be able to patrol tonight. The faster he could get out the door, the better. And if that meant going without the tracker, so be it. He'd just be more cautious than usual.
"DAMIAN hurry up!"
"OK!"
Rolling his eyes, he fastens his pace to his father, Tim, Cass, and Steph. Tim was tapping his foot impatiently, meanwhile, Steph had an irritating grin aimed at himself. It was much too peppy in his opinion.
"Heyyyy Dami! Missed me?"
Steph had been gone with Cass for a few weeks, on some sort of mission that he hadn't really bothered to look into. If it concerned him, he would have been notified. And he didn't particularly care what the two got up to.
"Ttt. What was there to miss, Brown?"
Steph's grin became more strained.
"Hey-"
"Hello Stephanie, Cassandra. Nice to have you two back."
Bruce enters the room and, as per usual, speaks with an air of detachment and professionalism. Stephanie's smile fixes itself.
"I'm glad SOMEONE cared. Thank you, Bruce."
She says this with a pointed glare at Damian. He felt slightly guilty, he came off as more venomous than indifferent than he maybe intended. Truly, he did… sometimes enjoy her company. Even if she was obnoxious, her presence could once in a while be welcome. He looks away, glancing over at Cass.
She gives him a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment. His lips twitch, and he struggles to prevent a smile from crossing over his face from her quiet greeting. He could make it up to Brown on patrol, he reassured himself. Maybe take a hit for her or something of the like, some sign he cared. He wasn't good with words, but actions, those he was more than capable of.
Cass's smile turned into a knowing grin as he planned what he would do. He attempted to rid himself of expression, but he knew it was too late. She always could tell what he was thinking. Some might call it creepy, but Damian himself was jealous. If he knew what other people were thinking, it would be so much easier to know what to say. Everyone loved Cass. If he was more like her, maybe people would like him too.
He mentally scolds himself. These were childish thoughts, unbefitting of himself. Changing himself was not the answer… fixing faults, however, would be advantageous. 'Changing himself' was impossible anyway, there were some instincts that he couldn't bury no matter how hard he tried. And how he tried. When he had first arrived at the manor, he wrote himself a list of how to act when with any Wayne or person affiliated with the family. He still needed to work on parts of his personality, so working on his relationships would be some semblance of an attempt.
Fine, that could be his new project, starting now.
His father clears his throat, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
"There has been more gang activity lately since Cassandra and Stephanie were gone. Specifically, from Black Mask. I want patrol to focus on areas Black Mask has been documented to be in. Tim and Cassandra, can you two check out The Bowery? I'll patrol near The Narrows. Damian and Stephanie, you two will be over by The Docks."
Damian stiffened a bit at the last part.
"Everyone, look out specifically for any signs of drug deals. I have information that Black Mask has been especially interested in that area recently."
Stephanie sighs dramatically, with Tim snickering at her. Damian gives his best glare to the both of them. He could hold off on the whole bettering of relationships for when the people involved in them weren't being so annoying.
"Fine. As long as someone is on his best behavior, that works," She says patronizingly, side-eyeing Damian as she speaks. He scowls at her.
"And what exactly are you attempting to postulate?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Literally. What kinda word is postulate?"
"A word clearly not in your lexicon."
She rolled her eyes. Suddenly her face shone, a mischievous smile replacing the exasperated one from before.
"Come on, the last one in the car has to clean off the batarangs!."
"Hey!"
She turns and starts running away. Damian jogs, trying to keep up.
Stupid Brown and her stupid adult legs.
"Shit,"
Steph breathes out, desperately trying to open the sealed-off vent. Crouched over it, she glances back at Damian, seemingly checking to make sure he's still there. She fumbles with the bolts, spitting out enough curses to make even Batman blush.
Damian grits his teeth. The two were in a warehouse, having followed Black Mask and his crew. They had spied him whilst on patrol, talking with some of his men. After they followed them to the warehouse, they split off from the gang, efficiently sweeping through rooms, opening doors, and searching boxes. Finally, when investigating one of the rooms, they found something. That something was seemingly endless crates of drugs.
Clearly, this was what Black Mask had been getting up to. The man had escaped from Arkham in another breakout a few months ago and had built up his gang again. Damian found him obnoxious, an arrogant and violent person. Seeing as he had crates upon crates of drugs all together, in a warehouse that easily could be associated with him, Damian deduced he was stupid too.
Brown had been pleased. She had told him with a giggle they "basically won" seeing as they had been the ones to find the crates. Apparently, a bet had been made with Drake over this. He didn't particularly care, but couldn't help the twitch of his lip when hearing Drake had lost. That would show him for being so annoying that night.
The two made sure to figure out what types of drugs were present, and how many crates as well. Damian shifted through the crates with gloved hands, raising pills up to his eye. He knew a lot about drugs. Definitely to the point where if he were to mention his expertise to any sane person, child services would show up at his home. He supposed if any of his civilian classmates had similar knowledge, likely he would make sure they faced a similar fate.
As they were reporting the details back through their comms to the others, the locked door's handle had started to shake.
They were currently trapped in a small, dusty, and dark room, a terrible place to die in Damian's opinion. If the men got in, they would be surrounded. And their worries only grew as they listened to more and more people converse outside the door. The handle shook more, arguing and yelling could now be heard too, though it was difficult to make out what they were saying. They were running out of time. If Black Mask caught them, it would surely not end well for both of them.
The door rattles more.
Damian hisses.
"How close are you to opening the vent?"
Steph purses her lips while still pulling at the bolts,
"I need like another minute. I'm so close."
Said vent was covered with a metal plate. It was coated in rust in parts, making it even more difficult to remove the many bolts holding it in place. Her wrench was tiny and rather delicate, as it was one meant to be on her person at all times. He would have to remember to ask his father to purchase more sturdy ones in the future.
Only from a small warped section of the metal sheet were they able to peek out. It was connected to a dingy alley by a fire escape. If the panel was removed, they could easily clamber out and escape. It would be a tight squeeze, but one they both could make.
THUMP
The door shook violently.
They looked at it warily, breath hitching. It would fall soon, and with it would come many people who would love to inflict injuries on them. Damian squared his jaw and pulled out one of his many knives from his pocket. He started to push a crate, moving it, so it was blocking Steph from immediate sight.
"What are you doing?"
She questioned, eyes still focused on the panel.
"Buying you time."
He stood in front of the crate in an offensive stance. This was how he was to apologize to Brown. What better way than protecting her? She better be grateful, he thinks to himself, mildly annoyed. He at least was attempting to get one of them out of there. It was just simple logic, if one got away, the other could call for help.
She did not seem to agree with his conclusion.
"WHAT!? No, no way. You're not getting yourself hurt doing something stupid when you're with me! Dami! Your family will skin me! And then I'll have to skin you!"
CRASH
The door flew from its hinges, a cloud of dust flying up in its wake. Damian ignored the cough threatening to leave his throat. Why was the drug room so dusty anyway? It seemed unsanitary. Well, Damian reasoned to himself, if they're already dealing drugs, sanitation is probably not on the top of their list of importance. Criminals were not exactly known for their adherence to health regulations.
Men started filing in, creating a sort of semicircle. Black Mask entered last, low muttering from his men the only thing preventing them from hearing Steph work.
"Of course, a lone bat flew in. They like getting where they're not supposed to, no?",
Black Mask joked, arrogant laughter following.
Damian mocked him in response,
"At least I don't hide my whole face with a mask. I know for a fact that you're pretty ugly under there. Afraid you'll lose respect if your little friends see you?"
Black Masks "little friends" expressions became more serious. Good. The longer he stalled and brought their attention to himself, the more time Steph had.
The masked man pointed at Damian, a chilling aura entering the room, following his finger.
"You know, you're a little asshole. I was gonna be nice, wasn't even gonna rough you up, just hold you hostage. But now? I think you're gonna have to be carted away missing a few things."
Damian's stance straightened, and from his pocket, he pulled another knife.
"Try me."
With that, Black Masks men surged forward. He weaves through them, letting his rage guide him. It was like a dance. Limbs were slashed at, the men and his own. A few of them fell down, but the sheer number was quickly overpowering him. Punches flew through the air, kicks accurately making their mark. He grimaced at a particularly strong punch to his arm, but his flow never ceased.
"Enough."
Everyone froze in place, slowly looking over. He could feel the danger permeating through the air. A gun was aimed at his head, from about 10 feet away. Black Mask flicked off the safety.
"Play time's over. Grab him. Unless he wants a nice new hole in his forehead."
Damian started daggers at him while hands surged towards him, grabbing his arms and hands. He jerked back, his green eyes catching Steph's blue ones.
Run
She grimaced and bit her lip. The vent was open, the metal plate gone. Freedom was 20 feet away. He pleaded with her with his eyes. Use the time he had bought her, and come back for him later. She looked simultaneously furious and anxious. Her fists were clenched tightly. With one last glance back, she smoothly slipped out the opening, swiftly escaping. Her shadow disappeared, and he knew she wouldn't be caught.
BANG
Damian's eyes widened, his mouth opening. Ringing filled his ear, the sound loud enough to where he'd probably have some sort of temporary hearing loss. Black Mask's men all had placed earplugs in before, and now were looking down at him smugly. A searing pain burned in his leg, and he toppled over to the ground. Just as quickly as he fell, he was dragged up by two especially large men.
Black Mask inspected his gun, turning it around disinterestedly in his hand, before turning his head back to Damian. He pulled his mask up a bit, just to make the motion of blowing out a flame over his gun barrel. After, he pulled his mask down again. Damian would totally have taken a verbal (or literal) stab at him for that if he wasn't dealing with a small crisis.
Warm blood dripped down his leg, starting to create a small puddle by his feet. He scrunched his face in pain before schooling his expression again. His attempts to hide his pain only garnered a smug chuckle.
"I told you not to move. You're lucky I'm in a good mood, most people don't get warning shots."
Black Mask slowly strolled over to him, amused murmurs from his henchmen filling a room of what was once silence. He put his hand under Damian's chin, turning it side to side. The eyes in his mask bored into Damian's own.
"What are we gonna do with you, Robin?"
Damian didn't answer, instead prompting to spit on his mask in response.
Black Mask reeled back, and then quickly slapped Damian straight across his face. His head turned with the hit, his vision becoming momentarily blurred.
"Brat."
He seethed at him, before standing up straight. Looking around at his gang, he seemed to be deliberating about something. Finally, when Damian's head started to clear, Black Mask spoke.
"Knock him out"
Grea-
"Why…out….been hours…"
He awoke groggily to distant, complaining voices, and lifted his aching head while squinting. Disoriented, he blinked his eyes a few times, attempting to get his bearings. When he tried to lift his arm to feel the likely lump on his head, he couldn't. Alarmed, he looked down at his arms.
Of course.
They were tied behind his back with thick black rope. He scowled. This was troubling. He was tied to a chair, in an empty room, likely in a forgotten floor of some abandoned building. That definitely wasn't good. He hoped Steph at least had gotten away safely, far away from Black Mask at the very least. She was capable, so he did not need to worry himself. He shook his head and glanced around him.
When he finally finished inspecting his (bland) surroundings, he looked down at himself and clenched his teeth. Someone had wrapped his bullet wound up; sloppily, but it had at least staunched the bleeding. He wasn't dead, at the very least. But all of his weapons were missing, every pocket emptied, and the comms in his ears removed as well. There was also a carved-out portion of his suit, where his tracker once was. His captors were quite capable, and he honestly felt a little mollified. He'd rather be captured by someone proficient than embarrassingly incompetent.
It was fine anyway, there was still the other-
Oh, right.
This was going to top the lesson about Tim's recklessness. And he had made fun of Tim for that only a few days prior.
He groaned, Tim was definitely going to get him back for that now.
Suddenly, a dim, flickering light illuminated him like a beacon. From this, he could now see a door. And the total lack of windows in the room he was in. There was absolutely no way that was up to code.
He grew more uneasy, how was anyone supposed to find him if they didn't have his location? An abandoned building, in a city with likely hundreds of abandoned buildings. It could take hours, and from what he heard had already been hours. He frowned. All he could do was wait.
Footsteps made their way to the door. He craned his neck over, his eyes never leaving the frame.
Slowly, it opened. A dark shadow cast over the room, a lone figure stood ominously in the doorway. Damian glowered. Black Mask entered the room, and two men followed him in, standing on opposite sides of the room. Black Mask loomed over him and raised his gloved fist. In the other, pressed to his side, was a large knife.
"Talk. How did you know where we held the stuff?"
Damian looked off, disinterested. It wasn't as if the answer he had would please the man. "I didn't know where your drugs were, you just suck at hiding them" would not be received well. So, he remained aloof.
A fist slammed into his stomach, causing his body to curl up. He gasped and began coughing, raspy, dissonant coughs. Low laughs echoed through the room. He glared over at the henchmen, baring his teeth in frustration. A tutting noise sounded above him. Hunched over slightly, he stared up at Black Mask.
"I. Said. Talk. Who is your informant?"
Said informant was a young undercover cop, one of the few uncorrupted ones in Gotham. He had infiltrated into Black Mask's group but hadn't gotten very far in yet. The man hadn't even known where the drugs were but had known places where they likely were. That was the information they had gone off that night, why they patrolled where they did. Clearly, the information had been good. Damian wasn't about to ruin the start of a promising career.
Again, he ignored the question, albeit this time trying not to cringe at the pain blooming in his abdomen.
"Hit him harder this time, boss,"
One of the henchmen said, smirking.
He closed his eyes this time as he awaited the blow. It did not disappoint.
CRACK
He almost screamed, stopped only by him biting his tongue. The taste of metal flooded his mouth, but he was more concerned about his ribs, which from the noise and pain were all now either bruised at best, or more likely, broken. If an organ or artery in him was punctured, it would be disastrous. There was no way Black Mask would even make the attempt to have him saved. He couldn't let that happen. He focused on his breathing, reminding himself his family was searching for him at that very moment.
Surely, Steph had told them. And they were looking for him. Right. He kept telling himself that, continuing to ignore the words being spoken towards him, the questions being asked and the answers demanded. The voices quickly rose in volume. He was now being screamed at, which did not help his already aching eardrums.
CRACK
This time, a yelp managed to escape him. He gasped, pain billowing up inside of him. Coughs rattled his small body, blood splattering onto him and the floor. He could feel something sharp inside of him, each cough causing it to dig into him. Internal injuries were now becoming a larger chance. Attempting to stay still, he felt his eyes become teary.
"Are you crying? I knew you were a kid, but how much of a baby are you? Ain't you a little vigilante? I'd have thought you'd be tougher."
Damian lifted his head slightly at the taunts, and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something.
Black Mask leaned in, giving him his rapt attention.
Fool.
Damian's lip twitched, and he gave one final bloody cough, right into Black Mask's face. He couldn't believe the man had let him do that twice. That had to be one of the most foolish things he had ever seen someone do.
It was also a very stupid thing for Damian to do on his part.
Black Mask's body trembled with rage, his fist tightening around the knife still in his hand. He lifted it up, turning it in his palm, so he was pointing the blade right at Damian.
"THAT'S IT!"
Damian screamed, full force, as a knife lodged into his abdomen. Hot pain shot through him. Tears dripped down his face, cutting through the dried blood coating the edges of his mouth. A gurgle tumbled out of his mouth. Black Mask harshly ripped the weapon out, spraying blood all over the space. The man sadistically laughed, as did the other two men in the room.
He really wanted someone to appear. Anyone to come save him now. He didn't want to die, he had so much he wanted to do.
Damian wasn't currently too interested in the reaction of the men in the room. Other things were on his mind. Besides wishing for his family. For example, the fact he was likely going to bleed out because of this. He shakily lifted his head once more, opened his bloodied mouth, and spat out two simple words;
"Fuck. You."
"Cocky ba-"
Damian pulled away, bracing himself for the hit. His vision blurred slightly with the movement, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The punch never came, yet still, he waited for it, seemingly endlessly.
A loud noise from outside the room startled him.
"What the hell was that-"
The door crashed open, shining light into the dim room. Damian opened one eye, looking over to the intruder.
Standing in the illuminated doorway was one very angry Tim Drake.