Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2013 15:32:02 -0700
From: B.E. Kelley <hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com>
Subject: Gotham Prep Episode 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong
to DC Comics. And also, if you are too young to read this, leave...
please. Or if this type of thing is illegal where you live then also
leave...please. This is a story involving homosexual, or rather gay, sex
and love. So if this offends or freaks you out, leave... please. This is
purely fiction, it doesn't imply anything about the character's mentioned
sexuality.

This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention.
Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The
author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story.
You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization.

Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com

Gotham Prep
Episode 1: Dawn of the Dark Prince

It was nearly noon but Bruce Wayne was still in bed.  He and Tim had fought
the Joker to another standoff the night before but with age, the constant
abuse he subjected his body to, took longer to recover from.  He would have
been perfectly content to sleep the entire day, he had a board meeting
downtown but the benefit of being the chairman was that most meetings
didn't start if he didn't show up.  He was exhausted and the last thing he
wanted was to hear the shrill buzz coming from the intercom phone on his
night stand. He tried to ignore it but the buzzing grew more and more
insistent.

"Yes?" he groaned.

"I'm sorry to disturb you sir," said Alfred, "but you have guests."

"I don't have anyone on my schedule this morning," said Bruce.

"No sir but nevertheless, they are waiting for you in the study," Alfred
replied.

"I'm really tired, Alfred," said Bruce, "Can you have them reschedule?"

"I would sir but I think it would be in your interest to come down
immediately," the butler explained.

"Fine," Bruce groused, "give me 5 minutes."

Bruce rolled out of bed with a groan; he really was getting to old for
this.  Being Batman was a young man's game but his work wasn't finished.
Gotham was still as crime ridden as it had been when he started but the
difference was that now the people had a champion and as long as they
needed him, it would be his burden to bear.  He dressed quickly, throwing
on a pair of Dockers and a polo shirt, whoever was waiting downstairs; he
hoped they weren't expecting something more formal.

"Where are they?" asked Bruce, as he came into the foyer and found Alfred
at his desk.

"I put them in the study sir, I thought that would give you more privacy,"
said Alfred.

"Privacy?" said Bruce.

"Indeed sir," Alfred nodded.

"Interesting," Bruce thought aloud, as he walked towards his study.

When he walked into the room, he found a tall, dark haired woman, standing
in front of the large picture window that looked out over Gotham City.  She
turned, when she heard the door open and Bruce stopped in his tracks.  She
was as exotically beautiful today as she was when they'd first met, she was
tall and athletic, her hair was black as night and hung to her shoulders,
her eyes were perfectly set and looked as if they could stare into your
soul.  If her father had had his way, they'd be married now and he'd be the
leader of the League of Shadows, rather than Gotham's dark protector.

"Talia al Ghul, as I live and breathe," said Bruce, "what's it been, 12
years?"

"More like 14," said Talia, as she stepped aside, revealing the boy who
stood behind her, for the first time.

"Who is this?" Bruce asked nervously, but in his heart he already knew.

"This is my son, Damian, our son, Bruce," said Talia, as she took the boys
hand.

The boy stood beside his mother, his head coming up to her shoulder.  His
hair was as dark as Talia's; it was cut short and combed neatly to the
side.  The eyes, the eyes were clearly his fathers, they were blue, the
same shade as Bruce's, like the ocean after a storm.  He had a baby face,
he looked closer to 12 then 14, he was dressed smartly, in a white button
down shirt and pressed khakis, the loose clothing hiding what was a growing
and athletic body that had been finely tuned since birth.

"H-hello Damian," said Bruce, he could face the cities most diabolical
villains, with steal cold determination but this boy, who evidently shared
his blood, made him nervous.

"How do you do Mr. Wayne," said Damian, politely.

Bruce took the boys hand and shook it, he could have sworn that the boy's
fingers had come up high on his wrist and if he didn't know better, he
would have thought Damian was trying to read his heart rate.  It was the
first time they had ever met but the boy didn't show any emotion, he didn't
cry, he didn't shout, he didn't seem happy, he didn't seem to feel anything
at all, his face was a blank.

"Dami my darling, would you wait outside while I speak with Mr. Wayne,
please?" said Talia.

"Yes mommy," Damian replied, dropping Bruce's hand and walking quietly out
the door.

"You told me you had a miscarriage," said Bruce.

"I lied to you," Talia admitted, nonchalantly.

"How old is he?" asked Bruce.

"Do the math, he'll be 14 at the end of the summer," said Talia.

"How could you?  How could you not tell me?" said Bruce.

"I knew you didn't want what my father offered you, I also knew that you
would have stayed for our child, I had to let you go and I thought that
would be ok because I would have Damian to remind me of you," Talia
explained.

"Then why are you here now?" asked Bruce, his mind still processing what
she'd said.

"Oh Bruce," Talia sniffled, "he's so much like you, he's in terrible
danger."

"In danger, how?" asked Bruce.

"He's my father's heir," Talia explained, "since the day he was born he's
been trained by the League of Shadows, to be father's successor."

"Then what could he possibly have to fear?" said Bruce.

"As I said, he's like you," said Talia, "when his training was complete,
they presented him with a criminal who had been caught stealing from the
village.  Before Damian could strike, the peasant begged for his life, he
said that he'd only been stealing to feed his family and Damian laid down
his sword.  He said it was a greater crime to starve a family."

Bruce couldn't help but smile and think, `that's my boy,' but Talia crossed
the room and wrapped her arms around him, breaking his train of thought.

"We barely escaped with our lives," Talia cried, as she buried her face
against his chest.

Bruce knew Talia all too well, she was as lethal and cunning as she was
beautiful and he'd never once known her to shed a tear.  Still, the boy was
her child, she'd given birth to him and raised him all these years, he had
to give her the benefit of the doubt and he had to do what he could to
protect him.

"What can I do?" asked Bruce.

"I need to leave him here," Talia explained, "I'm heading for Asia as soon
as I leave you, I hope to throw the Shadowmen off his trail."

"When will you be back?" asked Bruce.

"I don't know, maybe never, but I had to get Damian here and make sure he
would be safe," said Talia.

"How much does he know about..." Bruce began.

"Nothing, I told him that you were a businessman and that you didn't know
about him, he bear's you no ill will for not being part of his life," Talia
explained.

While Bruce and Talia spoke in the study, Damian waited impassively in the
grand foyer of Wayne Manor.  Most boys his age would have been in awe of
the opulent surroundings but Damian had been raised as the Prince of the
League of Shadows and this wasn't his first brush with opulence or power.
Instead, Damian's well trained eyes scanned the room for escape routes,
looked for potential weapons and checked for open areas where he would have
his full range of motion should he need it.  He hadn't been there long,
when a teenage boy with dark hair and kind eyes, came down the stairs.

"Oh, hi, I didn't know we had company, I'm Tim," said the boy, extending
his hand.

"Hello," said Damian, shaking his hand.

Behind his polite manners and easy smile, Damian was sizing Tim up.  Grip
the hand, pull down and slam my elbow into his face, grab the throat, press
my thumb in, just slightly, death by asphyxiation, 30 seconds, thought
Damian.  He'd been trained to do that with virtually anyone he met, you
never knew when a friend might turn out to be an enemy and Damian was
always prepared.

"What's your name?" asked Tim.

"I'm Damian, Damian Wayne."

"I'm sorry, what?" said Tim.

But Damian didn't get a chance to explain, just as Tim finished his
question, the door to the study opened and Talia and Bruce stepped out into
the foyer.  Talia still had tears in her eyes.

"Damian, I've spoken with your father, you're going to stay here with him
for the time being," Talia explained.

"Yes mommy, as you wish," Damian replied.

"I expect you to listen to him and behave yourself while I'm gone," Talia
continued.

"I will mommy," said Damian.

Talia gave Damian a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek, she kissed Bruce and
then she was gone.  As she walked out to her car, the tears that had filled
her eyes disappeared and a sly smile crept across her face.  Back inside,
an awkward silence hung over the Wayne men.

"Am I tripping or did she just call you this kid's dad?" Tim finally asked.

"Tim, this is, evidently, my son, Damian," said Bruce, "Damian, this is Tim
Drake-Wayne, my adopted son."

"I see.  Thank you for your services, Drake, but we won't be needing them
any longer," Damian stated, haughtily.

"Come again?" asked Tim, trading a look with Bruce.

"Damian, what are you talking about?" asked Bruce.

"I'm your biological son, I'm your blood heir, I understand that you didn't
know about me but I'm here now, you won't be needing him anymore," Damian
explained plainly.

"Seriously?" chuckled Tim.

"Damian, I don't know what you've been told but it doesn't work like that,"
said Bruce.

"I understand, do you want us to fight to the death?" asked Damian, as
casually as a normal child would ask for a glass of milk.

"Is he high?" said Tim, shooting Bruce an amused look.

"No Damian, I don't want you to fight him to the death. Tim is my son, I
adopted him because I love him, not because I need him and he isn't going
anywhere, I expect you to treat him with respect," Bruce admonished the
boy.

"I'm sorry, this is new to me, I don't understand your ways, I'll try to do
as you say," Damian replied.

"This isn't the League of Shadows, I don't expect you to fight anyone, in
fact, I want you to resist that instinct, do you think you can do that?"
Bruce inquired.

"Yes sir, I'll do my best," said Damian, with what came close to a smirk.

"Right," said Bruce, skeptically.

"Master Bruce," said Alfred, reentering the room, "I'm afraid your board
meeting is in an hour, if you wish to attend, you'd best get dressed."

"Of course, I almost forgot," Bruce admitted, "Alfred, would you show
Damian to a room, I'm sure he's tired from his trip."

"Certainly sir, I'll put young Master Damian next door to Master Timothy,
we'll make sure he's quite comfortable," Alfred winked.

"Damian, I have to leave soon, why don't you go with Alfred, he'll look
after you while I'm gone," said Bruce.

The boy nodded and followed the old butler up the stairs.  When they'd
turned the corner and were out of ear shot, Tim turned his attention back
to Bruce.

"League of Shadows?" asked Tim.

"Damian's mother is Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul's daughter," Bruce
explained.

"You banged Ra's al Ghul's daughter?" Tim exclaimed.

"I wouldn't put it quite so elegantly but I assume you do understand how
babies are made," Bruce smirked at his young ward.

"Yeah, thanks for the mental image," Tim rolled his eyes.

"Suffice it to say, I didn't know about Damian until a few minutes ago,
Talia says he's in danger," Bruce explained.

"From the League of Shadows?" Tim followed.

"Exactly, they've been grooming him from birth to take Ra's place," said
Bruce.

"Oh perfect, I've always wanted a little brother that knew a thousand ways
to kill someone," Tim laughed.

"All joking aside, keep your guard up around him, I don't know what they've
taught him but the League of Shadows doesn't tolerate rivalry, someone
always ends up dead," Bruce explained, "I'll have a talk with him when I
get home."

"I gotcha, I won't let the twerp get the drop on me," Tim smiled.

"And keep your eyes open, Talia is trying to lead them off his trail, but
if the League figures out he's here, we might have trouble," said Bruce.

While Bruce and Tim spoke in the foyer, Alfred showed Damian to a room in
the family quarters of the old mansion.  He pointed out portraits of the
Wayne Ancestors that dotted the halls, pointed out which doors belonged to
Bruce, Tim and himself, and directed Damian to his own palatial suite,
where he placed the luggage on the bed.

"The bathroom is through that door, would you like me to help you unpack,
sir?" asked Alfred.

"No thank you, I can handle that myself," Damian replied curtly.

"Perhaps I can place your toiletries in the bathroom, so you feel more at
home?"

"Yes, thank you, that would be sufficient," said Damian.

The boy opened one of his suitcases and handed Alfred a small leather bag
which contained things like his toothbrush, deodorant, comb, etc.  Alfred
took the bag into the restroom and dutifully unpacked it.  He took the comb
and found exactly what he was looking for, a hair with the follicle still
attached.  Alfred quickly placed the hair in a crystal vial and secreted it
in his pocket, before returning to the room.

"All done, can I get you anything else young sir?" asked Alfred.

"No, I'll be fine," said Damian.

"As you wish sir, should you change your mind, I'll be downstairs."

When Alfred left, Damian quickly and meticulously unpacked his clothes.
When the last pairs of socks and underwear had been put into a drawer and
the last shirt hung on a hanger, he removed the false bottoms from his
suitcases and ran his fingers over the weapons hidden within.

His collection had once belonged to a proper shinobi or ninja.  They dated
back to the 16th century but they were expertly maintained and just as
sharp and deadly as the day they'd been forged.  The suitcases contained a
katana sword, several blow guns, darts, throwing stars and butterfly
knives.  Damian was quite fond of butterfly knives and nearly always had
one secreted on his body, as he unpacked, he had one up his sleeve and
another hidden in the heel of his shoe.  Damian wrapped his weapons in his
black yoroi, then looked for a place to hide them.  It didn't take long for
him to find a loose floor board in his closet, which he deemed a fitting
hiding place.

Satisfied that his collection wouldn't be found, Damian sat on the window
seat, pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them and hid his face.
For the first time in his life, he was afraid, not of any person mind you,
he was supremely confident in his ability to slay any potential opponent,
this fear came from deep inside.  He was confronted by emotions he'd never
experienced before, his mother dotted on him, lavished him with praise and
affection but now he was surrounded by strangers.

His nerves felt like they'd been rubbed raw with sandpaper, he and his
mother had been on the run for almost a month and he'd maintained constant
vigilance the entire time.  Here, everything he felt his instincts telling
him, seemed wrong.  Back home, he wouldn't have tolerated a rival, Drake
would have left as ordered or he would be dead, it was that simple.  Damian
was learning very quickly that he was not a normal boy, and that in fact,
he had no idea what normal was.

While Damian sulked in his room, Bruce finished dressing and met Alfred
downstairs.

"Did you get it?" asked Bruce.

"Was there ever any doubt?" smiled Alfred, producing the vial containing
the hair.

"Yes, he's been well trained, how did you get him to let his guard down for
you to get the sample?" asked Bruce.

"I've been well trained to, I simply did my job," Alfred smiled, "the young
man was happy to let me unpack his toiletries for him, there was a hair
with a follicle on his comb."

"Brilliant, I don't know why I ever doubt you," smiled Bruce, "keep an eye
on him until I get back."

"Of course, but for what it's worth, I don't think you need that sample,
the boy looks just like you at that age," said Alfred.

"I know, but this is Talia and the League we're talking about and things
aren't always what they seem, I have to be sure," said Bruce.

Damian wasn't the only one facing his fears, while Bruce drove into Gotham
City, he too found his demons staring him in the face.  He'd never expected
to have a child, let alone one that had spent the last thirteen years being
honed into a living, breathing weapon.  Tim and Dick didn't count, Bruce
loved them like son's but they had always been so easy going and so eager
to do good, Bruce didn't know what he'd do with Damian.  He didn't have
long to think about it either, it was a short drive to Wayne Tower, where
the valet parked his car and he took the express elevator straight to the
one hundred third floor.

"Good afternoon Mr. Wayne, I didn't think we'd be seeing you today," said
Lucius Fox.

"Busy night, Lucius," said Bruce, "while I'm in my meeting, I need you to
do me a favor."

"Of course Mr. Wayne, after all, you're the boss," smiled Lucius.

"I need you to take this sample down to the lab and compare it for me,"
said Bruce, producing the vial from his pocket.

"And what am I comparing it to?" asked Lucius.

"That ought to do," said Bruce, as he plucked a hair from his own head.

"I see, I'll get right on it," said Lucius.

Lucius Fox was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and as such, he was used to
unusual requests from his employer.  He typically attended board meetings
but he was also accustomed to these side projects and knew his absence
wouldn't be questioned.  He took the samples down to a lab on the research
and development floor, then dismissed the scientists working there and ran
the test himself.  Hair follicles contain DNA; Lucius harvested the cells,
then ran them through the analyzer and compared the results.  The Y-DNA
from both follicles was a perfect match.

"Well?" asked Bruce, an hour later, when he met Fox in his office.

"Congratulations, it's a boy," said Lucius.

"Yeah, about 14 years old," Bruce confirmed.

"How the hell did..." Lucius began.

"It's a long story and I'm sure you'll delight in my discomfort at telling
it, but it'll have to wait," said Bruce, "I have to get home and make sure
he hasn't burned the place to the ground."

"Where is he?" said Bruce, when he returned to Wayne Manor and walked into
the kitchen.

"Young Master Damian is still in his room sir," said Alfred.

"He's been up there all this time?" asked Bruce.

"Indeed sir, dinner is ready, shall I fetch him?"

"No, I'll get him, thanks," said Bruce.

When Bruce got to Damian's room, he knocked then stuck his head in the door
and looked at the boy with sympathy.  Damian was still sitting on the
window seat, staring out at the city.

"Mind if I come in?" said Bruce.

"It's your house," said Damian.

"Yes but this is your home while you're here, I want you to be
comfortable," Bruce explained.

"I take it the DNA test confirmed things for you?" said Damian.

"How did you know that..." Bruce began.

"It's what I would have done," said Damian.

Bruce unbuttoned his coat and sat next to his son.  Sitting there, looking
so glumly out the window, Bruce remembered a time in his life when he'd
looked like that, shortly after the death of his parents. Despite the
League of Shadows best efforts, Damian wasn't a monster, a weapon they
could wheeled whenever the wished, he was a boy with very real problems.
He was also a Wayne and at the most critical moment in his life, his
humanity had won through.  Bruce decided that his job, as a father, would
be to teach Damian to embrace his humanity in all things, to shed his
killer instincts and lead some semblance of a normal life. Of course,
considering his own unfortunate childhood, he wasn't sure he knew what
normal was either.

"I know this isn't easy for you but we're family now and I'm here to help
you," said Bruce, tenderly.

"Yes, I understand," Damian replied, the robotic expression returning to
his face.

Bruce knew this wasn't going to be an overnight process, humanizing his son
would take time.

"Alfred has dinner ready, would you like to join us in the dining room?"
asked Bruce.

"Thank you Mr. Wayne, I'd like that," said Damian.

"About that, I know it's too soon for you to be comfortable calling me dad,
but you don't have to call me Mr. Wayne," said Bruce.

"What should I call you then?" asked Damian.

"Anything you like, Bruce if you want."

"Father will do," said Damian.

"Sure, if you like," Bruce smiled.

They went down to the dining room where Tim was already seated.  Alfred
served and the Wayne men ate in an awkward silence.  Damian pushed the food
around his plate, looking at it with distrust.

"It's not poisoned I assure you," smiled Alfred.

Damian looked up at the elderly butler and scanned his smiling face; he saw
no trace of a lie there and began to eat his dinner.  The awkward silence
continued, until after the soup course, when Tim spoke up.

"How did the board meeting go?" asked Tim.

"Excellent, the city approved the plans and we start construction on the
new hydroelectric plant after the first of the year," Bruce explained.

"You know Damian, Wayne Enterprises has been..." Bruce began.

"In our family for generations, I know," Damian replied.

"Did your mother tell you that?" asked Bruce.

"Wikipedia told me that," said Damian.

"Right, did she tell you how we met?" Bruce followed.

"Mommy said you met while traveling on business, that you copulated with
her and I was the end result," Damian explained casually.

Tim couldn't help himself, he spit his water out on the table and laughed
hysterically.

"This kid is such a trip," said Tim.

Damian flashed Tim an angry glare, he'd never been laughed at before and he
didn't like it one bit.  The look on Damian's face only caused Tim to laugh
harder and Bruce could sense the tension that was beginning to build in
Damian's shoulders.  The boys nostrils flared like a viper about to strike,
and with a simple flick of his wrist, he sent his butter knife zooming past
Tim's ear.  The polished flatware came so close that Tim could actually
hear it as it whizzed past him, before imbedding itself in the mahogany
paneling of the dining room wall.

"Damian!" Bruce exclaimed, before the boy could make his next move.

Damian turned his angry expression on his father, his nostrils still
flaring, his eyes sparkling malevolently.

"Damian, go to your room," said a flabbergasted Bruce.

Damian planted his feet stubbornly; he held his stare and stood his ground.

"Now," Bruce ordered.

Damian turned and shot one last drop dead glare at Tim, then stormed off to
his room.

"Holy Arkham Asylum Batman, reservation for one," said Tim.

"I'm sorry about that Tim, but it's not his fault, you have to be careful
with him," said Bruce, exasperated.

"Uh, did you see what he just did, all I did was laugh," Tim exclaimed.

"I know, anything could set him off, I'm going to try and help him but I
need you to help me," said Bruce.

"Alright, but if psycho boy pulls that again..." Tim started.

"I expect you to defend yourself but try not to hurt him," Bruce sighed.

"I'll try but I can't promise anything," said Tim.

That was how Damian's first day at Wayne Manor came to a close.  Things
weren't off to a great start and for the first time since returning from
his self imposed exile, Bruce wasn't sure what to do.  For the time being,
he decided that it would be best to keep Damian at home, away from people,
until he had a chance to evaluate his capabilities and maybe try to get to
know the boy who hid behind the cold, calculating exterior.

Things hadn't improved by the next morning.  When Tim went down to the gym
for his regular morning workout, he found Damian already there.  The
younger boy was dressed in a white gi with short black pants and a black
belt wrapped around his waist, he was doing his morning katas.  Katas are
exercises that teach the martial artist to put together attacks and
blocks. These combinations become so habitual that he can use them in
fighting, without having to stop and figure out what comes next. The
process of putting together attacks and blocks itself becomes familiar to
him.  He is then able to execute combinations of movements necessary to
meet any given situation.

"I didn't figure you for the ballet type," Tim snickered, as he headed for
the treadmill.

"I don't dance, those were kung fu forms, specifically the tiger, snake and
crane," said Damian.

"I know what they were, I was just busting your balls," said Tim.

"They call those the maimers, tiger has always been one of my favorites,
would you like to see it up close?" asked Damian, menacingly.

"Anytime you think you're ready, big boy," said Tim, drawing himself up to
his full height and staring down at the smaller boy.

"Now is just as good a time as any," Damian replied, stepping up to Tim and
looking him right in the eye.

The boys stood there, sizing each other up, each waiting for the other to
make his move.  They were interrupted when Tim's watch started flashing and
then Bruce's voice came over the intercom.

"Tim, I need you up here," said Bruce.

"I know, I'm on my way," Tim replied.

"Must be your lucky day," said Damian.

"Don't hurt yourself, twerp," said Tim, patting Damian on the head and then
leaving him in his wake.

Over the next two weeks an uneasy détente settled over Wayne Manor.  Tim
and Damian virtually ignored each other.  Bruce didn't think that was
healthy for either of them, whether they liked it or not, they were family
now and at some point, they would have to start acting like it.  In the
mean time, at least they hadn't figured out a way to kill each other.  Tim
went about his regular life as though Damian had never appeared and Damian
spent most of his time swimming laps in the pool, running on the treadmill
or practicing his martial arts and gymnastics.  He'd only planted one
venomous snake in Tim's bed.

Sports and games were one aspect of Damian's childhood that had been
somewhat normal.  His mentors at the League of Shadows saw games and sports
as a way for Damian to train his body, learn to anticipate and think ahead
of his enemies and use his competitive nature to accomplish goals.  For
Damian, it had simply been fun, the one thing he did for the pleasure of
doing it.  He was a gifted athlete and Bruce delighted in watching his son
at play, it was the only time he ever saw him smile.  Damian was also a
talented chess player and spent hours in front of the board with Alfred, he
hadn't defeated the cunning old butler yet, but he never quit trying.

At the end of that first two weeks, Bruce decided to take Damian for a run.
Though Wayne Manor had plenty to offer in terms of entertainment, the boy
had been cooped up in the house since his arrival and Bruce thought he
would enjoy the fresh air.  They set out on a ten mile run and quickly
found themselves trading in the pastoral landscape for the urban jungle.
They didn't talk, Damian was too busy taking everything in, his mind was
running in high gear as he visualized a map of Gotham City in his head and
filed it away for later use.

While Damian might have appeared distracted to the casual observer, he was
anything but.  Though there hadn't been any sign of League operatives,
since his arrival in Gotham City, that didn't mean they weren't there, and
he was always on the lookout for danger, that's how the trouble started.
They were running along a side street that connected to a bridge leading
into the narrows, when Damian spotted a man grabbing an old woman's purse.
The old woman wouldn't let go and eventually the man punched her in the
face.  Damian saw it before his father and sprang into action.

Damian had been raised to abhor crime, it was a cardinal tenet of the
League of Shadows.  In the eyes of the League, there was no such thing as
rehabilitation, they believed in the adage once a criminal always a
criminal and only one punishment suitable for all situations, death.  The
League had been dealing out its version of justice for centuries, they made
a career of burning cities to the ground when they became to diseased by
injustice to function.  That was the fate the League had planned for
Gotham, only to be thwarted by Batman.

Damian charged after the mugger, he ran right passed the old woman, who lie
on the ground, crying and clutching at her face.  The mugger was no match
for the young athlete and when Damian closed the distance, he launched
himself at the mugger, taking him down with a flying scissor kick to the
back.  Damian landed on his feet like a cat and spun around, just as the
mugger regained his balance.  He pulled out a cheap pocket knife and swung
it at the boy, only to have Damian knock it out of his hand with a well
placed kick.  Damian jumped on the mugger and wrestled him to the ground;
he pulled one of his butterfly knives from a hidden compartment he'd made
in the heel of his Asics.  The knife flashed in his hand but before he
could strike, Bruce tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

"What are you doing, get off of me," Damian growled, as he struggled
beneath his father's weight.

"Run," said Bruce, turning his attention to the mugger.

"Man, that kid's fuckin crazy," the mugger exclaimed.

"You want me to let him up?" Bruce threatened.

That was all the encouragement the mugger needed; he abandoned the old
woman's purse and ran down the street as though the devil himself was hot
on his heels.

"What are you doing, father, he's getting away," Damian growled, still
trying to free himself.

"Damian, stop it," said Bruce, as he squeezed the boy's wrist, forcing him
to drop the knife.

The old woman made her way over to the man and boy who had stopped her
would be attacker but didn't know what to make of the spectacle.  Bruce
handed her the purse then he pocketed the knife and wrestled Damian into an
alley.  With considerable difficulty, Bruce managed to restrain Damian,
least he run after the mugger, and call Alfred with instructions to come
and pick them up.  When Alfred arrived, he found Bruce with his arms
wrapped tightly around his son, not out of affection but for his own
protection.  Damian was seething, his nostrils were flaring and his eyes
held that same malevolent sparkle they had the night he threw the butter
knife at Tim.

Bruce put Damian in the car, the boy crossed his arms over his chest and
didn't say a word, his body trembled with anger. When they returned home,
Damian stormed into the foyer.

"Damian, I want you to go up to your room," said Bruce.

"Don't you mean my cell," Damian retorted, "this place is a prison."

"Damian, you were going to kill that man," Bruce exclaimed.

"Yes," Damian shouted, "he hit that woman, he stole from her and you let
him go!"

"The rules are different here, we have laws, you can't just go killing
anyone who gets in your way," said Bruce, the timber in his voice rising.

"Yes I can!" Damian shouted, "If I had just killed that bastard, I wouldn't
be in this mess, I wouldn't have to be here now!"

Bruce knew his son wasn't talking about the mugger; he was speaking about
the man he'd spared.

"Damian, you did the right thing; that man didn't deserve to die, neither
did that man on the street today," Bruce said softly.

"I hate it here!" Damian glowered, then stormed off to his room.

"Have a good run?" said Tim, as he came in from the kitchen with a
sandwich.

"Not exactly," Bruce huffed, "I don't know what we're going to do with
him."

"I have some ideas," Tim smiled.

"Not now Tim," said Bruce, dejectedly, as he walked off to shower.

Damian spent the rest of the day pouting in his room, like a petulant
child.  He refused to come down for lunch and dinner, choosing to remain in
his room, cursing his father under his breath.

"Stupid old bastard; thinks he can tell me what to do, show him," Damian
muttered to himself.

He waited until darkness fell and the house was quiet.  He crept into the
closet, quietly pulled up the loose floor board and took out the concealed
package he'd left there.  Damian stripped down to his briefs then donned
his black yoroi and strapped on his weapons.  He checked himself out in the
mirror, all he saw were his two crystal blue eyes staring back at him.  He
smiled a wicked grin under his mask then leapt from the second story
window.  Damian always landed on his feet and as he stood, he enjoyed the
cool night air on his face and felt a freedom he hadn't known since coming
to Gotham City.

Damian knew that there were motion lights throughout the grounds, he'd seen
them set off by squirrels and birds, and memorized their patterns.  He wove
his way through the darkness, he climbed the ten foot brick wall that
surrounded the perimeter and then bounded into the street.  He kept close
to the tree line and followed the internal map he'd committed to memory, in
order to find his way back to the city. When he reached the city limits, he
took to the rooftops, leaping from one to the next, hiding silently in the
shadows.  It didn't take long for him to find trouble.

Damian had a nose for trouble; it was part of his training.  The League of
Shadows fancied themselves as crime fighters, Damian's encounter that
afternoon with the mugger and sent adrenaline surging through his body and
he liked it.  He knew that if you waited long enough, you could always find
trouble in dark places.  Criminals were cowards, creatures of the dark and
Damian perched on the fire escape high above an alley, waiting for them to
come out and play.

An hour into his vigil, six men stumbled drunkenly into the alley, they
were in pursuit of a woman, a girl not much older than Damian .  He judged
her to be about 16, she was pretty in a common way and he pictured her with
some clumsy boyfriend like his adopted brother, Tim.  Damian watched as the
men pursued her, tugging at her skirt, making lewd remarks, infecting her
nostrils with their drunken breath.  Damian waited to make his move, they
surrounded the girl, pushed her back and forth between them, tore her dress
from her body, intent on raping her, that's when he struck.  He leapt from
his perch, then stepped from the shadows with nothing but a dim streetlight
to illuminate his diminutive figure.

"Let her go," Damian ordered.

Either they didn't hear him over their drunken buffoonery or they didn't
care.

"I said let her go," Damian ordered with more bass in his voice.

This time the laughing and carrying on stopped.  The would-be gang turned
and laughed at the small dark shape at the end of the alley.

"Halloween isn't for a few months kid, why don't you go back to your mama
and let us have our fun," said the ring leader.

His cronies howled with delight, none of them had the least suspicion that
they were writing their own death warrants.

"I told you to let her go, I won't ask you again," said Damian, his voice
as cold as ice.

"Go home and play kid, or you'll be spitting your bubble gum out through
your forehead," said the ring leader, pulling a gun from his waistband.

"But I don't want to go home, I want to play with you," said Damian.

The laughter resumed as Damian charged at the collection of men, it stopped
when he buried one of his throwing stars in the ring leader's forehead.

"Holy shit," one of the gang exclaimed.

Damian pulled the katana from his back; he slashed and hacked at the gang,
as they drew their own weapons, cutting them to ribbons.  Three were dead
before their bodies hit the ground; one managed to take a swing at Damian
and lived just long enough to regret it as Damian's sword slashed across
his stomach.  The last one turned and ran but his fate was already sealed,
Damian launched another throwing star, this one striking it's victim in the
back of the neck.

"Thirty-four seconds," said Damian, mostly to himself.

He looked at the girl, she was in her bra and panties, covered in the blood
of her fallen attackers, but she was safe.  Damian disappeared back into
the shadows from which he'd struck, as the girl screamed in the distance.
He thought what he'd done would make him feel good, and for a brief moment
it did, but as he made his way back to Wayne Manor, he felt something he'd
never felt before, shame.  His father's words echoed in the back of his
mind, "the rules are different here, we have laws, you can't just go
killing anyone who gets in your way."

It was after midnight when he got home.  He climbed back into his room,
stripped out of his yoroi, than replaced it in his hidden compartment.  He
didn't even bother with his pajamas; he got into bed and curled up around
his pillow.

"My God, what did I do?" Damian asked the night, before burying his face in
his pillow.

Damian had a fitful night, sleep wouldn't come, he was tormented by his
conscience.  When morning came, he dressed by rote and found his way to the
breakfast table. His appearance shocked the rest of the family, his hair
was unkempt, and there were dark rings around his eyes, his normally bright
eyes turned an overcast shade of flat grey.  He only briefly looked at the
food in front of him before pushing the plate away.  Tim was not fond of
his little brother, they didn't get along and had come close to blows more
than once, but even he felt sympathy for the younger boy.

"Are you ok?" asked Tim.

Damian examined him contemplatively with his dead eyes.

"No, I don't think so," Damian replied.

"You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday sir, surely you must be
hungry?" said Alfred.

"No," Damian responded, his stomach turned when he looked at his plate.

"Is this about yesterday?" asked Bruce.

"What?" Damian exclaimed, his head snapping in his father's direction,
making him dizzy, could Bruce somehow know what he'd done?

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, maybe that wasn't the right approach but..."
Bruce began.

"What, no," said Damian, confused and relieved at the same time, "no you
were right I shouldn't have tried to...you were right."

"Really?" said Bruce.

Damian had been so adamant the day before, Bruce had no idea what could
have happened to cause such an abrupt change of opinion.

"Yeah," said Damian, "I was wrong."

"Well, I don't know what brought that on but I'm glad you think so," Bruce
smiled, happy his son was making progress.

"May I be excused please?" asked Damian.

"Sure, go ahead," said Bruce.

Damian returned to his room, climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up
over his head.  His conscience had never punished him like this before; he
didn't understand why it was happening now but all he felt was incredible
guilt.  He spent his entire day in bed and didn't make another appearance
until dinner that night.  Bruce was worried about him but Damian worked
hard to convince him that he just wasn't feeling well, he couldn't tell him
what he'd done, he didn't want to see the shame on his face.  Damian made
an attempt to eat some of his dinner and that seemed to put his father's
fears to rest for the time being, at least it put an end to the questions.
They sat quietly until a bright light cast a shadow across the night sky.

"What's that?" asked Damian.

"Uh, that's the Bat Signal," Bruce replied, "there must be a problem in
town, the police are trying to summon Batman."

"Anyway, I've got a date tonight, do you mind if I excuse myself?" said
Tim.

"No, go ahead, just don't be out to late," said Bruce.

"No problem, I'll catch you guys at breakfast," said Tim, as he hurried
from the room.

"That reminds me Damian, I have an important conference call and I probably
won't see you the rest of the night," said Bruce.

"Ok," Damian replied.

"Why don't you turn in early, if you're feeling better tomorrow there is
somewhere I'd like to take you," said Bruce.

"Where?" asked Damian, curiously.

"I'll tell you about it in the morning, good night son," said Bruce,
patting Damian on the shoulder and then leaving the room.

Damian said goodnight to Alfred then returned to his room.  He took up his
place on the window seat and looked out at the Bat Signal, which still hung
over the Gotham sky.  He felt drawn to the light, like a moth to a bug
zapper.  Damian knew all about Batman, that he'd been trained by the League
of Shadows and that like him, he'd refused to kill and earned the Leagues
undying scorn.  He also knew that Batman had thwarted the Leagues plans to
bring down Gotham City once and for all, a battle that his grandfather,
Ra's al Ghul, barely escaped with his life.

Damian felt it strange that he should see the Bat Signal on a day like
this, where his own mind sought to punish him for the things he'd done
wrong.  He'd never met Batman but he felt a kinship with him, maybe
Batman's conscience punished him too, maybe that's why he did what he did?
Damian stared at the signal as long as it was up, only after the light went
out did he climb into bed, finally able to sleep.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show," said Commissioner
Gordon.

"Sorry for the delay, it couldn't be helped," said Batman, "What's the
emergency."

"My officers found 6 dead bodies in an alley near the narrows this morning.
There was a girls dress at the scene, torn to shreds.  It looks like our
victims were throwing a little party and someone crashed it, hard," the
Commissioner explained.

"What's this got to do with us?" asked Batman, trading a look with Robin.

"Look, among the so called victims were two convicted murderers, a rapist
and a whole range of other felons.  They were definitely going to rape the
girl that belongs to the dress we found, probably kill her when they were
through, so I'm not going to lose any sleep over them, but, we found this,"
said Gordon, as he handed Batman a small evidence bag.

"Where was it?" asked Batman, as he examined the contents.

"That one was embedded in one of the victims forehead, we found another one
in a victim's neck," said Gordon.

"It's a shuriken, throwing star, Shadowmen carry them," said Batman.

"Shadowmen?" asked Gordon.

"The League of Shadows, they have operatives in Gotham City," said Batman.

"Them again?" said Gordon, "do you think they're making another move
against Gotham City?"

"No, its personal this time, they're after something," said Batman.

"Any idea what?" asked Gordon.

"No," said Batman, trading another look with Robin, "but I'll let you know
when I find out."

"Those bastards did a lot of damage last time," said Gordon.

"I remember, this is different, if you hadn't found this we wouldn't have
known they were here, I think they're trying to get in and out without
being detected," said Batman, "if you find any more of these, let me know."

"Alright but..." Gordon began.

But just like that, Batman and Robin were gone.

"Gee, wonder what they could be after?" said Robin, sarcastically, as they
hurried to the Batmobile.

"When we get back, alert Nightwing," said Batman, "he should know there are
Shadowmen in Gotham City."

"What should I say when he asks why they're here?" asked Robin.

"Tell him the truth, he's family, he deserves to know," said Batman.

"You got it boss."

When they returned to the Batcave, Batman changed into street clothes and
once again became Bruce Wayne. He left Tim to make his call, then hurried
up to Damian's room.  From the moment Commissioner Gordon handed him the
shuriken, all he wanted to do was check on his son. He found Damian safe in
bed, his face almost angelic in the pale moonlight.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his son's porcelain cheek and
let out a sigh, as he thought about what might have been.  He wished he
could have been a father to Damian while he was growing up, the boy was
smart, athletically gifted and Bruce couldn't help but wonder how he would
have turned out had he been shown real love and affection.  Bruce also knew
that it wasn't too late, he believed that Damian had come into his life for
a reason far greater than the League of Shadows, and he was determined to
make up for the time he'd lost with his child. Bruce let out another sigh,
then stood to leave.

"Sweet dreams my son," said Bruce, as he bent down and placed a gentle kiss
on the boy's forehead.

Damian woke early the next morning, it was still dark out and the clock on
the nightstand read 5:30.  He decided to go for a run, to work the kinks
out and clear his head.  He dressed in a t-shirt and gym shorts then
slipped quietly out of the house, through the back door in the kitchen.  He
could have gone down to the gym, in the basement, and run on the treadmill
but the fresh summer air appealed to him.  He'd done this a few times and
ran his usual circuit around the grounds.

He was working up a good sweat, his body was releasing the tension that had
been building and he actually felt himself breathing easier, despite the
exertion. Damien knew he was in trouble as soon as his foot came down; he
heard a snap and crack and then felt himself falling.  He'd stepped on an
old piece of plywood that was covering an open well.  The wood was ancient,
over grown with moss and covered in dead leaves; he would have never known
it was there if he hadn't been falling through it.  Damien grabbed for the
wall, he clung to it for dear life and tried to use his feet to get a grip
but he kept slipping on the moss.  His fingers began to slip, he made a
desperate lunge but it wasn't enough, he plummeted twenty feet to the dank
floor.

He lie there, sprawled out at the bottom of the well, he'd hit his head,
his eyes fluttered and the last image he saw was of the moon descending,
making way for the sunrise.

He'd completed his training, he stood before the Altar of Shadows in his
black yoroi, The Sensei at his side.

"You are fearless in the face of danger, you can become one with darkness,
you are the master of your senses, your training is complete," said The
Sensei, "it is time for you to take your rightful place as the Master of
the League of Shadows, but first, you must demonstrate your commitment to
justice."

A door opened and a Shadowman entered with a bound prisoner, who he brought
to the Altar of Shadows.  The man was a peasant from the village below the
Temple of Shadows, he wore only a pair of tattered pants, his face was
streaked with tears and snot and his sniveling filled the room, as he was
placed on his knees before Damian.  To Damian's right, another Shadowman
appeared, this one carrying a sword on a satin pillow, he bowed and
presented it to the boy.

"What is this man's crime?" asked Damian.

"He was caught stealing from the villagers," said The Sensei.

"You wish me to execute him?" asked Damian.

"He is a criminal, he took what did not belong to him, there is no
redemption for him, justice must be done," said The Sensei.

Reluctantly, Damian took up the sword.  A small voice in the back of his
mind screamed that this was wrong but his every instinct told him it was
time to act.  He raised the sword, mustered his strength and prepared to
strike.

"Please," sniveled the prisoner, "please, eminence, I was only trying to
feed my family.  They would have starved, I had no choice."

"Is this true?" said Damian, the sword paused above his head, waiting for
him to strike the deathblow.

"It matters not, compassion is a weakness, you cannot lead these men if you
are unable to overcome it, the time is now," said The Sensei.

"No," said Damian, placing the sword back on its satin pillow, "It is a
greater crime to starve a family.  I'm a warrior, not a murderer, I'll kill
anyone who has it coming but I won't murder an unarmed man for trying to
feed his children."

"Very well," said The Sensei, as he picked up the sword and raised it at
the boy, "let your compassion be your undoing."

Damian woke with a start, and felt a small lump on the back of his head as
he pulled himself to his feet.  He looked up at the opening of the well,
the sun hadn't risen yet but it was coming, the trees were shrouded in the
soft grey light of morning.  He heard a high pitched squealing, looked to
his left and shielded his face, just as a small flock of bats swirled
around his body.  Damian snatched one out of mid-air, and crushed it like a
soda can, while the others escaped into the sky.

"Bats, it just had to be bats," Damian shuddered, he hated the damn things.

With the bats gone, Damian set about finding a way out of the well.  He
tried climbing but the walls were too slick, that's when a thought struck
him.  His father had taken the butterfly knife he'd pulled from his running
shoe the other day, but it was only one of many and he'd replaced it as
soon as he got to his room.  Damian had a hidden compartment in each shoe
he wore; he extracted a pair of butterfly knives, flicked the blades and
used them to climb out of the well.  He dug the blades into the soft
mortar, and then used his upper body strength to pull himself up.

It took him about 10 minutes, he wasn't able to use his legs and the stress
on his arms was considerable, even for him.  When he climbed out of the
well, his shirt was torn, his knee was scrapped and bleeding and there were
leaves and twigs in his hair, but he felt a sense of accomplishment.  His
training had served him well, he hadn't panicked, he thought things through
and he'd helped himself rather than wait for someone to find him. He walked
back to the house and when he entered the kitchen, he found Alfred making
breakfast and Drake pouring himself a glass of juice.

"What happened to you?" asked Tim, "it looks like you got in a fight with
the bushes, and the bushes won."

"I went running and fell down an old well.  It's a good thing I'm not you
or I'd still be down there," Damian explained.

Tim rolled his eyes and went back to his juice, this is what I get for
trying to be nice to the little brat, he thought.

"Near the southwest corner of the property?" asked Alfred.

"Yes, it was covered with a piece of plywood but it must have been rotten
because it collapsed as soon as I put my weight on it," said Damian.

"I'm sure it was, that well was covered years ago, when your father fell
down it," said Alfred, "that scrape looks nasty, why don't you hop up on
the counter and let me have a look at it."

"I'm ok," said Damian.

"Nonsense," said Alfred, as he grabbed the boy by the waist and hoisted him
onto the counter.

"Wow, Alfred, you're pretty strong, for an old guy," said Damian.

"Well thank you Master Damian, one does try to stay in shape," said Alfred.

Alfred went into the pantry and returned with rubbing alcohol and some
first aid supplies.  He sat on a stool in front of Damian, applied the
alcohol to some clean gauze, then tried to clean the wound, only the boy
moved his leg.

"Is it going to hurt?" asked Damian, his voice taking on a childish tone.

"Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure," Alfred smiled.

He moved in to clean the wound, Damian winced and flinched as the alcohol
burned, but he didn't complain.  When the bleeding stopped and the wound
was clean, Alfred applied a fresh band aid, just as Bruce joined his family
in the kitchen.

"Good morning gentlemen...Damian, what happened?" said Bruce.

"He fell down the well, in the southwest corner of the grounds," said
Alfred, trading a look with Bruce.

"Are you alright?" asked Bruce, as he walked over to his son and checked
him for more wounds, with fatherly concern.

"I'm fine, Alfred patched me up," said Damian, "did you still want to take
me somewhere this morning?"

"Well, yes, but are you up to that, you had a nasty fall, I know, it
happened to me once," said Bruce.

"I'm ok, really," said Damian.

The boy was clearly in a much better mood then he had been in the last few
days. Bruce was concerned about his fall but Damian seemed ok and he didn't
want to defuse the boy's progress by mothering him.

"Alright, why don't you go clean up and we'll leave after breakfast?" said
Bruce.

"Yes father," Damian replied, with what could almost pass for a smile.

"Where are we?" asked Damian, an hour later, as Bruce pulled his car in
front of a rundown theater.

"Park Row, The Monarch Theater," said a somewhat subdued Bruce.

"Yes, I can read," said Damian, his curiosity interrupted by a moment of
sarcasm, "I mean, why are we at a boarded up theater?"

"I want to show you something," said Bruce.

Bruce hopped out of the car and Damian followed behind him.  His father
bought two roses from a vendor on the corner, who was selling them from a
bucket, then led him around the building and down a decrepit alley. Near
the back entrance to the old theater, Bruce knelt and placed the roses on
the ground.

"I was standing right where you are, the night I saw my parents murdered,"
Bruce said over his shoulder.

"What?" asked a surprised Damian.

Bruce rose, took a few steps back and put his arm around his son's
shoulder.

"I was a little younger then you when it happened," Bruce explained, "my
father had taken my mother and I to the opera, Mefistofele, I got scared,
said I wanted to go and we came out here.  A man came up to us and demanded
that my parents hand over their money and jewelry.  My father handed over
his wallet, then the man grabbed my mother's necklace, my father tried to
push him away and the man shot them both.  He would have probably killed me
too, but he heard a siren coming and ran."

"I, I didn't know," said Damian.

"I know," said Bruce.

Silence settled over father and son, as Damian tried to figure out why his
father had brought him here.

"Did they catch him, the man that did it?" asked Damian.

"They did, that night in fact, his name was Joe Chill," said Bruce.

"Did you avenge them?" asked Damian, looking up at Bruce.

"I wanted to, but I was a boy, younger then you are now and without the
benefit of your training," Bruce explained, "he was convicted and sentenced
to life in prison, justice was done."

"That's not justice, he murdered grandfather and grandmother," said Damian,
"if someone murdered you or mommy, I'd kill them, slowly."

Bruce looked down at his son, and was actually touched.  In his own warped
way, the boy had just expressed affection for him.

"That's what I wanted, it was all I thought about, for years I dreamed of
the day when I would meet him again and I would take my revenge," said
Bruce, "fourteen years later, I got my chance.  Chill had shared a cell in
prison with a powerful gangster, he cooperated with the police and the
District Attorney arranged for him to be released from prison.  I waited
until he was released, there was a mob of reporters and photographers and
in the chaos, I was going to shoot him, only someone beat me to it."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Damian, confused.

"Because, I wasted 14 years of my life thinking of nothing but revenge.  I
got in fights, I got kicked out of school, I ruined friendships, all
because I let it consume me.  I saw the look on your face the other day
with that mugger, I know what you've been trained to do, I don't want you
to waste your life on revenge, on the League of Shadows warped sense of
justice," said Bruce.

"Yeah but..." Damian began.

"Revenge isn't justice, justice is using your strength to protect the weak,
it's doing your best to improve society so that the Joe Chills of the world
don't have to go out and rob and steal to survive, do you see what I'm
getting at?" said Bruce.

And Damian did see.  It all started to make sense, his guilty conscience,
the dream he'd had that morning in the well, the very act of sparing the
thief on the Alter of Shadows, everything the League had taught him
conflicted with his sense of right and wrong.  It had been there all along,
he'd only been trained not to recognize it, or at the very least to ignore
it.  It was like a light switch had clicked on, Damian knew that from that
day on, he'd be on a different course, he wouldn't kill first, ask
questions later, he'd use his skills to help and protect people.  It went
against everything he'd been trained to believe, but he knew his father was
right because his own mind had been telling him the same thing all along.

"Thank you for bringing me here," said Damian, as he surprised himself and
his father, by grabbing him around the waist and hugging him tightly.

"You're welcome son," said Bruce, as he stroked the boys back.

When they returned to Wayne Manor, Bruce and Damian found Tim lying on the
couch in the library, reading a heavy volume of poetry.

"Oh, hey guys, I didn't hear you come in," Tim blushed.

"Poetry?" said Damian, as he snatched the book form Tim's hand, "I figured
you for a philistine, Drake."

"Shut up Damian," Tim blushed, "I'm seeing Amy later."

"Why don't you just read her one of the poems you wrote in your notebook,
you know, `your face is like a dying bat, that's why I tell you to cover up
with a hat, your teeth are strong like thick cement, in my heart you've
made a dent," Damian giggled.

"You read my notebook!" Tim exclaimed.

"You shouldn't have left it out in the open if you didn't want anyone to
read it," Damian smirked.

"Out in the open, it was under my pillow!" said Tim.

"In my defense, I was looking for the snake I put in your sheets," said
Damian.

"Stay out of my room, you little shit," said Tim.

"Now boys, play nicely," said Bruce, "Damian, stay out of Tim's room and
for God's sake, no more snakes."

"It was only a copper head, and don't worry, I got rid of it," Damian
grinned at Drake.

Tim shot Damian a dirty look then turned his attention to Bruce.

"Where did you guys go anyway?" asked Tim.

"Family business Drake, obviously we didn't need you," said Damian.

Tim shot Damian another dirty look. Damian stuck his tongue out at his big
brother, tossed him his book of poetry, then ran upstairs, reciting more of
Tim's poem.

"Your nose sticks out like an indie rock band member in a private school,
but that's because you're too cool... to dive into the pool."

"Well, he seems back to normal," said Tim.

"Indeed," Bruce agreed, "nose sticks out like an indie rock band member?"

"Hey, it's a work in progress," said Tim.

"Son, do yourself a favor, if you like this girl, burn that poem," Bruce
teased.

That night, the Wayne Family gathered in the library, after dinner.  Tim
was back on the couch with his book, getting nervous about his date. Alfred
busied himself with dusting the books and Bruce entertained Damian by
explaining the various family pictures.  The boy had never shown any
interest in them before and all Bruce could figure was that their trip to
Park Row had made an impression on him.  Bruce showed his son pictures of
his parents, Martha and Thomas Wayne, and pictures of himself with a much
younger Alfred and his pony, Patches.

"What's this one?" asked Damien, pointing to a picture of Bruce seated in a
wing backed chair flanked by Alfred and Tim on one side and another dark
haired boy on the other.

"That's the current family portrait," Bruce explained.

"Who's he?" asked Damian, pointing to the older boy.

"That's your other brother, Dick Grayson-Wayne, you've heard us talk about
him," said Bruce.

"Right, I forgot that you have two adopted sons," said Damian.

"Three," said Tim, looking up from the couch.

"We, we don't talk about Jason," said Bruce, sadly.

"Hmmm, so why haven't I met this Dick?" asked Damian, wanting to ask more
about Jason but sensing he shouldn't push the issue.

"He's got a job at Wayne Enterprises, he's been busy, I'm sure he'll visit
soon," said Bruce.

What Bruce didn't tell Damian was that Dick, who had been Robin before
passing the mantle on to Tim and assuming the role of Nightwing, was busy
working on a special project.  Since the night Commissioner Gordon had
shown Bruce the throwing star, Nightwing had been on the hunt for the
Shadowmen working in Gotham; unfortunately the trail seemed to have gone
cold.  Before Damian could ask any more questions, he saw the Bat Signal
flash across the night sky.

"Look, there it is again," said Damian.

"Hey father, I've got my date," said Tim.

"Yeah, I'll drop you off then swing by the office, I told Mr. Fox I'd be by
to see him this evening," said Bruce.

Damian eyed his father and his brother suspiciously.

"Why do you two always get weird when that thing comes on?" asked Damian.

"Just your imagination, creep," said Tim.

"Yeah well, `your braces are like barbed wire, I have to fix them with a
pair of pliers," Damian giggled, reciting more of Tim's poem.

"I am so getting you back for that," growled Tim.

"Good luck, I'd smell you coming a mile away," Damian smirked.

With Tim and Bruce gone, Damian settled in for another game of chess with
Alfred.  Something kept tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn't
figure it out, he thought it was the game but it persisted even when he
went to bed.  It was well after midnight when he finally fell into a dream
filled sleep.

He was a very little boy, maybe four or five, he was bundled up in a little
black toggle coat and his breath turned to fog every time he exhaled.  He
was at the London Zoo with his mother, she was holding his hand and he was
watching a pride of lions with their cubs.  Damian recognized the vision;
he thought it was one of his earliest memories.  The little boy was looking
intently at the lions and then he turned to his mother.

"Mommy, why don't I have a fatherdy?" asked little Damian.

"Of course you have a fatherdy my darling," said Talia.

"I don't think so, I never seen him," said the boy.

"He's a very busy man," Talia sighed.

"Like grandpa?" asked Damian.

"Something like that," Talia smiled.

"Doesn't he want to be with me?" asked Damian.

"It's complicated Dami," said Talia.

"Is it because I was born in a lab instead of from mommy's tummy?" said
Damian.

"No Dami, he has a very important job, people rely on him, he has to
protect them," Talia explained.

"Like a king?" Damian asked curiously.

"Not exactly," Talia laughed, "we'll talk more about this later; it's time
to go back, you have your training."

"Mommy, do I have to?" Damian whined.

"Yes my darling, it's very important for your future," said Talia.

"I hate training," said Damian.

Then the image shifted, he wasn't in the London Zoo, he was in the alley
behind the Monarch Theater and the boy he saw wasn't himself, it was his
father.  Bruce and his parents were walking down the dark alley when Joe
Chill approached them and demanded their money.  Damian watched as his
grandparents were gunned down and his father screamed.  When the screaming
died away, Damian was in the well, bats fluttering all about and he heard
his father's voice.

"The rules are different here, we have laws, you can't just go killing
anyone who gets in your way," Bruce's voice echoed.

Damian saw himself in another dark Gotham alley, this time he was hacking
away at the gang who planned to rape the girl he'd saved. The next image he
saw was of Bruce, silhouetted by the Bat Signal.

"Revenge isn't justice, justice is using your strength to protect the weak,
it's doing your best to improve society so that the Joe Chills of the world
don't have to go out and rob and steal to survive," Bruce's voice echoed.

"Oh my god," Damian exclaimed, as he shot up in bed, "My father and brother
are Batman and Robin."

That's it, that has to be it, Damian thought to himself.  He lie back in
his bed as his mind ran over the evidence.  Talia had always told him that
his father was a wealthy American, whom she'd met on a random business
trip, but Damian remembered differently.  He was sure his first vision was
of the first time he'd asked his mother about his father and she'd given a
very different answer.  Damian didn't know his father well but he knew his
mother and knew that she wouldn't have simply fallen for some common
businessman.

Secondly, Bruce had suffered a great tragedy, the loss of his parents.  It
had left him angry and desperate for revenge, just the kind of thing the
League of Shadows looked for in new recruits.  Damian was sure that there
was more to the story his father had told him the day before on Park Row.
He was convinced that Bruce had been trained by the League and that's how
he'd met Talia.  He also knew that Batman had refused his grandfather's
offer to lead the League, what are the odds that he and Bruce Wayne would
both be from Gotham and both have connections to his mother?

Thirdly, Bruce had the means to be Batman.  With his position as Chairman
of the Board of Wayne Enterprises, he had access to all the high tech
military equipment he wanted, the kinds of things Batman was known to
employ against the criminal underworld.  Not to mention, every time the Bat
Signal flashed across the sky, Bruce and Drake both made flimsy excuses to
disappear and weren't seen for the rest of the night.  Lastly, there were
the bats, Damian had fallen down the same well his father had when he was a
child, like Damian, he was afraid of the flying rodents.  Damian knew that
the League would have taught him to use fear as a weapon, what better
symbol to hide behind then that which you fear yourself?

Damian was sure of his conclusions, he knew it in his heart to be true, but
he needed evidence.  He didn't want to come to his father and ask him if he
was Batman, Bruce would think that to be the foolish delusion of a child,
no, Damian needed proof.  He began by searching the house from top to
bottom, he'd already been through Tim's room once, but that was out of
boredom, this was a mission.  When he couldn't find anything there, or in
Bruce's room, Damian became their shadow.  Wherever they went, Damian was
always a step behind, lingering around corners, hiding in shadows, sure
that they would lead him to what he was looking for, but a week after his
dream, he'd still found nothing.

That night, the family had just finished dinner; Alfred had cleared the
table and was in the kitchen washing dishes, when the Bat Signal once again
bathed the room in its light.  As if on cue, Bruce and Tim made their
excuses, only this time, quiet as death, Damian followed them into the
music room.  Bruce placed his hand on the old grand piano, played a few
notes and then he and Tim disappeared behind a bookcase that had opened to
reveal a hidden door.  Damian counted to ten, giving them time to get down
the path, then he approached the piano.  He tried several combinations of
notes but nothing he played would make the bookcase slide away.

"Ah, Master Damian, there you are," said Alfred, "I see you've found our
piano."

"Uh, yeah, I was just checking it out," said Damian.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll find it dreadfully out of tune, why don't you join
me in the library for a nice game of chess?" said Alfred.

Damian tried to think of an excuse but he drew a blank, he couldn't come up
with anything that Alfred wouldn't see through.  It didn't matter though,
now he had proof that something was being hidden in the house, he had all
the time in the world to play with the piano.

"Sure Alfred, that sounds like fun," said Damian, following the old butler
into the library.

Down in the Batcave, Bruce and Tim stripped out of their street clothes and
donned their secret identities as Batman and Robin.  Batman let Robin take
the wheel of the Batmobile and as they sped into the city, he called
Commissioner Gordon on the secure phone.

"Batman," said Gordon in greeting.

"Commissioner, what can I do for you this evening," said Batman.

"We've got a terrorist situation at the Gotham Children's Museum," said
Commissioner Gordon, "They say they have 20 hostages and have the building
rigged with explosives.  They killed a security guard, they used one of
those throwing stars, it appears our friends are here."

"I understand Commissioner, have your men surround the building, we're on
our way," said Batman.

Back at Wayne Manor, Damian thought that Alfred might be helpful to him if
he asked the right questions, at the very least, he hoped conversation
might distract him enough to score a victory over the old man.

"Alfred, you've worked for my family for a long time, right?" asked Damian.

"Oh Master Damian, it's been so long that I scarcely remember a time when I
didn't work for the Wayne's," said Alfred.

"And you raised my father after my grandparents were killed?" said Damian.

"Indeed, Thomas and Martha left their most valued possession in my care,"
said Alfred.

"Right, what was he like?" asked Damian.

"Well you have to understand young sir, that it was a very difficult time
for him, losing his parents was the greatest tragedy he could endure, he
was naturally upset," said Alfred.

"Uh huh, he told me he traveled a lot," Damian lied, "was he ever gone for
long periods of time?"

"Why this sudden interest in your father's past?" Alfred deflected.

"I'm just trying to get to know him better," said Damian.

"You're a very clever young man, Master Damian, I think there's more behind
your questions then simple curiosity," said Alfred.

"Alfred, my father and brother are Batman and Robin, aren't they?"

"Oh my, Master Damian, that's quite an imagination you have," Alfred
blustered.

"It's not my imagination," said Damian, as he laid out his case.

Back downtown, Batman and Robin had taken up a position on a rooftop
overlooking the museum.  There hadn't been a single communication from the
terrorists since they made their initial announcement of the hostage taking
and the bomb.  They didn't answer the phone, didn't acknowledge any attempt
by the police to contact them by radio.

"Something isn't right here," said Batman.

"What are you thinking?" asked Robin.

"Keep scanning the building, try inferred and microwave," said Batman.

Robin scanned the building and a few minutes later, he made the same
announcement he'd made after his first scan.

"Nothing, there's not even anyone making popcorn," said Robin.

"Strange, very strange," said Batman.

Another few minutes passed and Batman's secure cell phone started
vibrating.

"Batman, it's Gordon, my people just scanned the building with thermal
imaging, the place is empty."

"You're sure?" asked Batman.

"They can't see anything, I'm sending SWAT in to storm the building but I
don't think they're going to find anything," said Gordon.

"It's a hoax," said Batman, his mind starting to run faster and faster, a
picture becoming very clear.

"Why would they kill a security guard for nothing?" asked Gordon.

"Diversion," said Batman, as he clicked off his phone, "Robin, back to the
Batmobile, now."

"What's going on?" asked Robin, as he packed up his equipment.

"This whole thing is a scam, there never were any hostages, they killed
that security guard with a shuriken to get our attention, to lure us here,
they're going after Damian," said Batman.

"We can't let that happen," said Robin, surprised at his own concern for
the little brother that gave him nothing but grief.

"No, we can't, I'm driving," said Batman.

"I must admit, you make a very compelling case," said Alfred.

"So is he?" asked Damian.

"I'm afraid that's a question best answered by your father," said Alfred.

"Yes but..."Damian began.

"Hello Damian," said a tall Asian man, who entered the library, carrying a
bo staff.

"Chaing," said Damian, jumping to his feet.

"Now see here, who do you think you are coming in here like this?" said
Alfred, but Chaing ignored him.

"It's time to come home Damian, the Sensei whishes to see you," said
Chaing.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going anywhere with you," said
Damian, putting himself between Chaing and Alfred.

"I don't want to use force but I will if I have to," said Chaing.

"Ha, you know how I've been trained, there's no way you'd take me on
alone," Damian scoffed.

"True enough," said Chaing, as he banged his bo staff against the floor.

Ten Shadowmen filed into the library and formed a semi-circle around
Chaing.

"Whatever happens, stay behind me," Damian whispered to Alfred.

If this was to be his last stand, Damian was determined not to go down
without a fight and he would do his best to defend Alfred.  The old butler
had always treated him with kindness and the boy didn't want to see him
hurt.

"Master Damian, don't do anything rash," said Alfred.

"Listen to the old one, Damian, you can't defeat all of us," said Chaing.

Damian stomped on his heel and a knife emerged from a hidden compartment in
his sneaker.  Damian kicked in the direction of the nearest Shadowman,
sending the knife flying through his throat.  The man dropped to the
ground, choked out his last breath and collapsed in a heap.

"One down, ten to go," Damian smirked.

Damian pushed Alfred back and the old butler went tumbling over the sofa,
but at least he was safely out of the way.  Damian charged at the
Shadowmen, killing one by snapping his neck and disabling another by
breaking his leg, but the Shadowmen closed ranks around him.  Damian was in
mid-swing when Chaing nailed him with a direct hit from his bo staff.
Damian let out a shrill yelp, like a wounded puppy, he knew his collar bone
had been broken, he'd heard it snap.  The Shadowmen closed in with a melee
of kicks and punches, when the dust settled, Alfred rose to find Damian
lying on the floor, his body twitched for a moment and then he went slack.

"Master Damian," said Alfred, as he moved to tend to the boy.

"Relax old one," said Chaing, stepping in front of Alfred, "he's alive, the
master's orders."

Chaing snapped his fingers and two Shadowmen forced Alfred into a chair
then tied him to it.  A third Shadowman, with surprising gentleness,
scooped Damian into his arms and then as quietly as death itself, they
swept out of the house.  A bare five minutes later, Batman and Robin burst
into the library and found the room in shambles.

"Alfred, where is Damian?" asked Batman, while Robin untied the butler.

"They took him," Alfred stuttered, "ten or so, they came in and took the
boy."

"Damn it, we're too late," said Batman, picking up Damian's red Converse
sneaker from the floor, it had come off in the struggle.

"There was a fight sir, Master Damian wouldn't go willingly, I'm afraid
he's been hurt," said Alfred.

"Wait, they didn't kill him right, you said they just took him?" asked
Robin.

"Yes, I tried to tend to Master Damian but the leader pushed me back, he
said the boy was alive, that those were the master's orders," Alfred
explained.

"Damn, did they say where they were going?" asked Batman.

"No such luck I'm afraid, sir," Alfred replied, glumly, "the only other
thing he said was when he first came in, Master Damian called him Chaing
and the man said it was time to go home."

"Oh my god, I know where they're going," Robin exclaimed.

"What are you thinking?" asked Batman.

"Home, right?  Damian's not from here, they're trying to leave the
country," said Robin.

"It makes sense, do we have any contacts at Gotham International?" asked
Batman.

"I'm already on it," said Robin, as he reached for the nearest phone, a
moment later, he made his report.

"I talked to Rudy, in flight maintenance, he said that a Gulfstream landed
about an hour ago at the executive terminal, they moved everyone else out
and put up sentries, that's got to be our guys," said Robin.

"Well let's not waste time sitting around here, come on," said Batman,
"Alfred, call Dick, we may need back up."

"Immediately sir," said Alfred, as Batman and Robin raced from the room.

Twenty minutes later, Batman and Robin were on the roof of a hanger that
overlooked the executive terminal.  They found the Gulfstream business jet
waiting on the tarmac, its engines running.  There was security all around
the perimeter but no sign of Damian or the Shadowmen.

"I don't like this, if this is the plane, where are they," said Batman.

"Look, I'm worried about him to, but you have to take it easy if we're
going to get him back," said Robin, "we took the short cut, it's easy to
over look it if you don't know the area, this time of night, they're
probably stuck in traffic on the interstate."

"You're right, I'm sorry it's just..." Batman began.

"I know, he's your son and you don't want another Jason, I know," said
Robin.

"What do you have to disable the jet?" asked Batman, he didn't want to
think about losing Damian, he couldn't lose another son.

"I have an EMP grenade, as soon as they show up, I'll toss it at the
stairs, it should take out the electronics long enough to swoop in and get
Damian," said Robin.

"Good plan, I'm glad you're always prepared," said Batman.

"I had a good teacher," Robin smiled, "wait, who is that?"

Batman turned his gaze on the figure that emerged from the aircraft.  It
was an ancient Chinese man, he had long white hair but none on the top of
his head, he wore a long fu Manchu style mustache and a flowing satin robe.

"That's the Sensei," said Batman, "He was Ra's number two man, good job
Robin, this is the place."

A minute later, they figured out why the Sensei had stepped out of the
aircraft, two Ford panel vans pulled up to the plane, ten Shadowmen got
out, one carrying a small, dark haired boy wearing one red sneaker.

"Are you ready with that EMP grenade?" asked Batman.

"Good to go," said Robin, pulling the pin.

"Now!" shouted Batman.

Robin pulled his arm back and prepared to lob the grenade at the jet, when
a flash of light streaked low over the airfield and hit the portside
engine.  The engine burst into flames, while the Sensei and the Shadowmen
dropped to the ground to avoid the shrapnel.

"What the hell was that?" Robin exclaimed.

"I don't know, but we don't have time to talk about it, let's go," said
Batman.

Batman fired a gas powered grappling hook into the tarmac and he and Robin
slide down the zip line.  The Shadowmen were still disoriented by the
blast, Robin found the man who held Damian, when he took the boy from his
arms, the man tried to resist but Robin stomped him with a boot to the
face.

"Bravo," said the Sensei, from the top of the stairs.

Batman turned to face him, Robin stepped beside him, holding Damian in his
arms.  The remaining Shadowmen rose and surrounded the Dynamic Duo, keeping
their distance, waiting until the Sensei gave them the order.

"Is he ok?" Batman whispered to Robin.

"He's unconscious but he's breathing," said Robin.

"Bravo Batman, well done, but as you can see I have you at a disadvantage,"
said the Sensei.

"You know me Sensei, I've never been one to play the odds," said Batman.

"One man and a boy holding another, you're no match for my Shadowmen," said
the Sensei, "Give me the boy and I'll let you leave with your lives."

"You know I can't do that, no father could," said Batman.

"Nor could any mother," said Talia, walking up behind the Shadowmen and
taking her place next to Batman.

"Or brother," said Nightwing, as he emerged from behind the jet.

"When did you get back?" Batman whispered to Talia.

"Don't be silly darling, I never left, who do you think fired that RPG?"
smiled Talia.

"And I see you got Alfred's call," Batman whispered to Nightwing.

"You know me, I'm always free on a Friday night," said Nightwing.

"You know what to do?" said Batman, turning to Robin.

Robin wrapped his arms tightly around Damian and nodded his head.

"It looks like my luck is improving Sensei," said Batman, "Take your scum
and leave my family alone."

"Fools," said the Sensei, and with a clap of his hands, an additional ten
Shadowmen emerged from hiding places among the fuel and baggage carriers
surrounding the jet, "seize them!"

Robin dropped to the ground, covering Damian with his body, he wrapped his
cape around them, it was bulletproof and would protect them from anything
but a direct hit from any firearms the Shadowmen might have among them.
Talia and Nightwing put themselves between the Shadowmen and Robin and the
boy.  Batman charged for the Sensei.

The Sensei looked to be nearly one hundred years old but he had the
strength and skill of a man half his age.  He engaged Batman in a fierce
battle, going blow for blow with the dark knight.  Finally, Batman got the
upper hand, he put the Sensei into a chokehold and squeezed tight.

"Give up now and I'll let you live," said Batman.

"Ha, you won't take my life, you don't have it in you, you're as weak as
your son," said the Sensei.

"What you call weakness I call restraint, and it ceases to exist when you
come after my family," said Batman, tightening his grip.

"Ha," laughed the Sensei and with a puff of smoke, he disappeared into the
night.

When the smoke cleared, Batman surveyed the carnage, Shadowmen lie all over
the tarmac, Talia and Nightwing looked none the worse for wear.  Batman
removed his cowl and together, he and Talia knelt over their son, Robin sat
up when the danger passed and held the boy in his arms.  Batman gave the
boys shoulder's a gentle shake, his eyes fluttered and came into focus on
his parents.

"Father, mommy?" said Damian, dreamily, when he saw Talia.

"It's alright Damian, we're here," said Batman.

"Are we going to be together now?" asked Damian.

"There will be time to talk about that later my darling," said Talia.

"It hurts mommy," Damian whimpered.

"There, there Dami, sleep now," said Talia, as she stroked the hair away
from his forehead.

"Yes mommy," said Damian, his eyes fluttered again and he lost
consciousness.

"You've been here the whole time?" asked Batman, turning his attention to
Talia.

"I knew the League was on to us, I figured if I left him with you, the
Sensei would take advantage of our situation and make his move," Talia
explained, "I also knew that together, we could defeat him."

"In case you didn't notice, he got away," said Batman.

"It doesn't matter, he failed, he lost face in front of the Shadowmen, now
I'll be back in command of the League and I'll pursue him for his
treachery," said Talia.

"Are you sure that's going to work?" asked Nightwing.

"Dear boy, the House of al Ghul rules the League of Shadows, this little
coup by the Sensei is merely a bump in the road," Talia smirked.

To prove her point, she snapped her fingers, ten Shadowmen, the only ones
conscious, stood and bowed to her.  Batman took Damian from Robin and rose
with the boy in his arms.

"You're not taking him, Damian is staying with me," said Batman.

"Yes, I do think that's best, for now," said Talia, "goodbye Bruce, tell
him I love him."

Talia leaned into Bruce and kissed him on the lips, then turned her
attention to Damian, kissing him softly on his forehead and stroking his
face.  Talia took one last look at her son and his father; they were the
love of her life, then turned and disappeared into the night, with the
Shadowmen.

"Um, I think we should get going too, the police are going to be all over
this place in a minute," said Nightwing.

"Good point, see you at home," said Batman, as he and Robin headed back to
the Batmobile with Damian.

Damian didn't open his eyes again for another three days, when he did, he
found himself in his own bed, his room flooded with light, and a figure
sitting beside him.

"Father?" asked Damian.

"Hey, look who's awake," Bruce smiled.

"I can't move my arm," said Damian.

"I know, you broke your collarbone and a couple of ribs," Bruce explained.

"Where's mommy?" asked Damian.

"Well, you see, she uh..." Bruce began.

"She's gone, isn't she?" said Damian.

"Yes, the thing you have to understand is..." Bruce started.

"Don't try to explain her, I know her better then you do, I didn't expect
her to be here," said Damian, "that would be poor strategy."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're staying," said Bruce.

"You know, I am too, I love mommy but we're always moving around. This is
the first place I've ever been that feels like a real home, besides, I
think you need me," said Damian, "I know you're Batman."

"I hoped you might forget," Bruce sighed.

"I had it figured out before this happened, I was talking to Alfred about
it when Chaing showed up," said Damian.

"How did you know?" asked Bruce.

Damian proceeded to explain how he had unraveled Bruce's secret.

"You had me all figured out," Bruce smiled.

"It wasn't hard, I'm your son," said Damian.

"Yeah," Bruce nodded, "smart boy."

"Anyway, I can help you now, I can be your sidekick," said Damian.

"I can't do that Damian, you're not ready," said Bruce.

"Not ready, I've trained my entire life for this, I'm far more competent
then Drake," Damian complained.

"It's not that son, it's just, I think you need to spend some time being a
normal kid, that's more important for now," Bruce explained.

"But father," Damian whined.

"I'm sorry son but you're not going to change my mind on this, I have
something else in store for you," said Bruce.

"Oh, what?" Damian asked curiously.

"You'll see, in the mean time, I wanted to say I'm sorry," said Bruce.

"Sorry, for what, you saved me," said Damian.

"I knew there were Shadowmen in Gotham, I should have told you, maybe you'd
have been more alert, maybe you wouldn't have been hurt," said Bruce.

"When did you find out?" asked Damian.

"About two weeks ago, they killed some gang members that were going to rape
a young girl, they left some of their throwing stars behind," said Bruce.

"Oh, uh, father, that uh, wasn't the Shadowmen, it was me," Damian
admitted.

"What?" Bruce asked, shocked at the confession.

"It was the same day as the mugger, when we went running, I was so mad at
you that I went out my window that night and well, I found these guys and
it's like you said, they were going to rape that girl and when I told them
to let her go, well, he had a gun," Damian explained.

"Damian, my god, six men and you just..." Bruce began.

"I know, I thought it would make me feel good and I guess for a minute it
did, but then I started thinking about it and you told me about what
happened to grandmother and grandfather and everything you went through,
and well, I won't do that ever again," said Damian, "I should have rescued
the girl and left, I don't want to ever feel like that again."

"For what it's worth, two of them were convicted murderers and at least one
was a rapist, you probably saved that girls life but Damian, you're
fourteen years old, you can't go around doing things like that, if you'd
been caught you ..." said Bruce.

"I know, I didn't think but I get it now, it's like you said, there are
different rules here and if I want to stay, I need to get used to it," said
Damian.

"Alright, you know what you did was wrong, considering your upbringing,
we'll call that progress, but I'm more sure now than ever about your
future," said Bruce, "as for now, it's breakfast time, I'm sure everyone is
in the dining room and I know they'd love to see you, if you feel up to
it."

"Yeah, I'd like that," said Damian.

"It's alive," said Tim, when Bruce walked into the dining room with
Damian. Dick and Alfred were already seated.

"Shut up Drake," Damian smirked.

"Hi Damian, nice to formally meet you," said Dick.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too," Damian smiled.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up," said Tim, "the first time you met me I get,
"thank you for your services but we won't be needing them any longer," and
he gets, "nice to meet you," what's up with that?"

"Hmmm, I don't know," said Damian, a puzzled look on his face, "I guess his
stench isn't as offensive as yours."

"I think the young master is well on the road to recovery," Alfred
whispered to Bruce.

"God help us," Bruce replied.

Over the next six weeks, Damian's bones healed and he officially turned 14.
Gotham was quiet and Bruce Wayne spent the summer taking his boys to
baseball games and being a normal family man.  He even got the boys a dog,
a black Great Dane that, after some debate, Damian named Titus.  Damian and
Tim continued their constant bickering but it was more like the banter
between brothers that most parents had to put up with, with the occasional
death threat thrown in for good measure.  Dick took advantage of the summer
to get to know Damian, he was a regular fixture at dinners and for some
reason, the boy seemed to like him.  All too soon though, summer was at an
end and Damian learned what his father had in store for his future.

The whole family took time off to help Damian move into his dorm room at
Gotham Preparatory Academy, the day after Labor Day.  He didn't have much,
just a few suitcases, but Damian was pleased that his family was there with
him.  When all of his things were unpacked and it was time for them to
leave, he walked them to their car to say goodbye.

"Do I have to stay here?" Damian whined.

"This is where the Wayne's go to school son, we have for generations, now
it's your turn," Bruce explained.

"What about him?" said Damian, gesturing to Tim.

"Tim graduated last year," said Bruce, "he starts at Gotham University next
week."

"But he's only 16," said Damian.

"Yeah, not as dumb as I look after all, huh?" said Tim.

"Please, you probably cheated," Damian rolled his eyes.

"The point is, this is where you belong son, you'll be around kids your
age, I just want you to have some fun.  And remember, we're just across
town, you can call anytime you want and if you need me or any of us, we'll
be there for you, and you can come home on weekends, any weekend, every
weekend, that's up to you," said Bruce.

"Alright, I guess I'll give it a try," said Damian.

"Hey, I have an idea," said Dick, "we need a new family portrait, why don't
we take it now?"

"We're not really dressed for that," said Bruce.

"Ah, don't be so formal, it'll be great," said Dick, setting up his camera
phone.

"Shall I take it sir?" asked Alfred.

"No, it's not a family picture without you in it," said Damian, who was
quite fond of the old butler.

"Thank you Master Damian," Alfred smiled.

"What about him?" said Damian, pointing at a boy walking down the stone
path, his face buried in his iPad, "Hey, you, blondy, hey gadget boy!"

"Damian, don't be so rude," Bruce admonished.

"Hi, listen would you mind taking a picture for us?" said Dick, as he
trotted up to the blond boy.

"Sure, no problem," said the boy.

Bruce rested his hands on Damian's shoulders, Tim and Dick stood on his
right and Alfred on his left.  Dressed in t-shirts and jeans, the Wayne's
looked like any other family dropping their child off at school that day.

"Alright, everyone say cheese," said the boy.

"Just take the damn picture," Damian ordered.

The light flashed and Dick went to retrieve his phone.

"Boy, he's cute but what's his problem?" said the blond.

"Ah, don't mind him, his bark is worse than his bite," said Dick.

"Yeah?" said the boy.

"Well, no, his bite is pretty fierce too," Dick winked, then rejoined his
family.

Damian hugged Bruce and Alfred, than shook hands with Dick.  When he came
to Tim, the two stared at each other, neither wanting to meet the other's
gaze.  As much as Damian got on his nerves, Tim did care about him and he
was going to miss having him around every day.  As for Damian, he'd never
thanked Tim for his role in saving him from the Sensei, it weighed on his
conscience, it seemed like a matter of honor.

"So uh, take care of my father, ok?" said Damian.

"Of course, he's my dad too, you know?" said Tim.

"I know, and um, take care of yourself too, you know, if someone else got
to kill you instead of me, I'd be quite put out," Damian grinned.

"I'll do my best," said Tim, rolling his eyes.

"Hey Drake?" said Damian.

"Yeah brat?"

"Thanks, you know, for everything," said Damian, surprising his brother
with one of his rare hugs.

"You're welcome Damian," said Tim, hugging him back, "I don't want anyone
killing you but me either. Oh, and remember, it's just 9th grade, try to
keep the body count to a minimum."

"You know me, I'll be snapping necks and cashing checks," Damian smiled.

"Wow, why did we ever start letting you play video games?" Tim laughed.

Bruce, Alfred and the boys got back into the car and Damian watched them
drive away.  When they were gone, he walked back to his dorm, taking the
long way, enjoying the late summer air.  That night, Damian woke in the
dark and saw the Bat Signal in the distance.  He stood in the window and
watched it for a while, he knew his father and brother would be heading
into harm's way, but he knew they could handle it; it was just another day
at the office for the Wayne's.

As for Damian, his time to don the mask would have to wait, for now, he had
his own part to play, Damian Wayne, son of Batman, master assassin, high
school freshman.  How hard could it be?