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Damian Wayne was benched for the third time in four months.
He was still seething from the other two times he’d been prevented from patrolling, though in hindsight, the house arrest wasn’t a surprising result of his actions. He hadn’t listened to Father’s orders and was subsequently punished. He’d been, supposedly, “reckless and dangerous.”
“Tt,” Damian clicked his tongue, recalling Batman’s words. As if he didn’t plan out everything beforehand. He’s not Todd.
This time, however, was just ridiculous.
It was in relation to a math packet Damian was assigned last Monday. It wasn’t abnormally difficult or unusual compared to the other assignments in the class (in fact, it was insultingly easy), but it was tediously long, and he had much better things to do. Damian had learned this level of math by the time he was seven, after all, and his grade would hardly be impacted by one missed assignment.
It would be impossible for him to fail at an underfunded and incompetent institution like Gotham High, anyway. (He’s only at that public school because of his expulsion from Gotham Academy, courtesy of Maps… and mostly a magic, stolen quill. Long story.)
Of course, Damian had argued all of this to Father. Unsurprisingly, he remained firm in his conviction and benched Damian to focus on school like a “normal” child his age and catch up on work.
Yeah, right.
Damian looked down at the sketch he had unconsciously drawn. His pencil was tightly clutched between his fingertips, and on the paper was a sketch of a serpent wrapped around a robin, clawing for freedom.
Damian scoffed — he was thinking of Mother again. Damian had seen her a month ago, and, as always, she seemed to be up to something. They hadn’t yet figured out her goal, nor whether or not it was nefarious. It’s always been difficult to tell which side she’s on at any given moment. Talia al Ghul has never been classified as predictable.
Damian shook his head, trying to expel the distasteful thoughts from his mind. It’s not advisable to dwell on the past, so as not to stir up unpleasant memories. Although, looking down at the art, he realized it could make an excellent piece of graffiti. It would be fun to blow off some steam, and it’d distract him from his reflections. (It’s possible that Father would even notice it and think of Damian. Perhaps he would feel guilty and, consequently, decide to allow Damian to assist with the case. Well… it was a long shot.)
Damian eagerly hopped off his chair and made his way to the closet. Since Batman and Red Robin would be patrolling near his destination tonight, it would be beneficial to remain undercover among the rest of the shady civilians roaming among the nightingales.
He absentmindedly grabbed a black hoodie, one of Richard’s old ones, and threw it over his expensive shirt. It was large enough to easily hide weapons, specifically, his favorite pocket knife. He would hate to waste it on an abhorrent stranger, but you never know with Gotham. It isn’t the safest place to be alone at night.
Damian didn’t think he would need a facial mask to blend in, but he grabbed one anyway — just in case a camera caught sight of him. Unlikely. After four years as a vigilante, he knew the surveillance in Gotham by heart.
In the back of his closet remained a backpack with half-filled spray paint cans from a few weeks ago, when Damian had last seen Colin. They had gone to a skate park with a group of teenagers and painted. Some profanities, phrases, and doodles have been etched on there since, but the mural Damian made had remained untouched — besides the faint scratches left by skateboards. Once, Drake had offhandedly complimented the art without knowing who made it. Damian tried his best not to look smug. He failed.
Damian snatched the bag and, careful not to make any noise, walked towards his door and slowly peeked out into the hallway. He had to ensure the emptiness of Pennyworth Manor, but in reality, he was already certain he was alone. Only Father resided with Damian, and he had likely already departed for patrol early tonight with Drake. Drake sometimes stayed over, but recently has been on his new houseboat in the Gotham City Marina. It’s an unusually small place of operation, in Damian’s opinion, but strategically advantageous with the recent crime surge in the area — so at least there’s one thing acceptable about it. Meanwhile, Todd has been moving through various safe houses and apartments in The Hill, where Cain and Brown are also situated nearby. Thomas remains in The Narrows, and of course, Richard is in Blüdhaven. That leaves Damian in the new, vast manor, unable to feel the rush of escaping anymore due to the empty halls…
And numerous easy exit points. Despite a security system being installed immediately after moving in, it was no match for Damian. Unfortunately for Father, he quickly located the labyrinth’s blind spots and had already determined how to evade the cameras and alerts. One effortlessly accessible way out was just in the hall outside his room. He recognized this and turned the camera inside the hallway upon arrival, which Father had yet to notice with his busy schedule. The cameras outside the house were easily evaded through the minor weak spot in their vision, which was, conveniently, right where a window was.
Damian, as he had done countless times before, unlatched the window and scaled the wall down to the floor. He avoided detection by remaining low to the ground while navigating around the concealed metal plates meant to incapacitate intruders with an electric shock. A typical trespasser would never be able to get in or out, but him? It was too easy. Damian hopped over the fence, his hoodie grazing the security spikes rimming the top, then ran north toward the Diamond District of Gotham City. It wasn’t far from Old Gotham, and Damian couldn’t resist the urge to annoy Father at the sight of graffiti on Wayne Enterprises.
Obviously, Damian had been in this area dozens of times, so he knew where to go as he wandered around the street corners. The chilly winter air hit his face as he moved, forcing him to pull up his hoodie around his head. On every turn, neon billboards lightened up the trash-filled alleyways, advertising various companies and new products.
Ugh, LexCorp? Stick to Metropolis.
Damian turned into a small, darkened alleyway and walked straight past a sketchy man in a full-face mask without batting an eye. Hopefully, he wasn’t planning to rob a bank; no vigilantes were currently in the area to witness Damian’s petty crime.
He used the shortcut to sneak past the front of Wayne Enterprises and ended up on the side wall by the trash can. It was the perfect area; cameras could hardly see him, Batman would swing past towards the end of patrol, and there were no security or police in that area. He certainly didn’t want to be caught by them — he would be in a lot more trouble daring to graffiti on an expensive building rather than a run-down place in Crime Alley. He’d rather do it here, though; he likes the risk. Though if he really needed to get out of trouble he probably could, since his father owns it. However, then he would be notified, and Damian would be in a worse predicament than anything the measly legal system could do.
Damian unzipped his backpack, and several paint cans spilled onto the floor. He picked up the black one, shook it, and started sketching from memory. The runny paint streaked down as he quickly sprayed his art on the building. Soon, the colors blended together to form a sufficient art piece. He snapped a photo and sent it to Colin.
Colin replied immediately (with a notable lack of proper grammar), “is that on W.E. lmaoo”. Colin’s text bubble reappeared soon after, “wanna meet up?”
Damian had a faint hint of a smile on his face as he responded: “I’ll meet you in our usual spot.”
He turned away from the building and slipped into the shadows, careful not to draw any attention. In the corner of his eye, he noted Catwoman’s silhouette on the towering building above him. Just a second later, Batman appeared, and Damian knew that was his cue to go. The fight was not his problem, and the ensuing flirting certainly wasn’t either. Damian scruffed his nose at their exchange. Disgusting.
He snuck past, headed toward the nearest subway station. It wasn’t too far a jog until he entered. He shuddered going down the dirty stairwell and slipped around the groups of people obstructing the tunnel’s entrance. While navigating through the crowd, he headed towards the train bound for Park Row, or Crime Alley.
At the ticket scanner, while the worker was distracted, Damian simply hopped over the metal turnstile. No one cared to stop him anyway — they had enough to worry about while using the public transport system in such a dangerous city. For all he knew, a villain would destroy his ride halfway through the journey.
As he boarded the train, Damian was immediately hit by the smell of cigarette smoke and trash. Therefore, it was hardly surprising when he looked up and saw a man smoking right in front of him. Damian sat down in a corner seat and decided to distract himself by going on his phone, but his enjoyment was short-lived when he noticed that the pole in front of his seat was covered in gum. It was absolutely disgusting. Someone just to his left was hanging upside down off the handles, looking extremely addled, while the woman on his right was cradling a whining baby. Damian knew better than to act like anything was wrong — he didn’t make eye contact by glaring like he wanted to — and instead started texting Jon to complain. He sent a paragraph describing how irritated he was, to no avail, as Jon didn’t respond. He’s probably asleep already. Damian smirked at the thought. Jon’s such a lark.
It was a longer ride than Damian expected. There were likely some minor complications. Others had looked up a few times, indicating the speaker on the train had gone off, and the conductor had spoken. He was constantly paying attention to his surroundings, out of instinct at this point, but it didn’t mean he cared about the announcement. Damian hadn’t listened, instead blasting music in his headphones the whole time.
As the train door clicked open, everyone simultaneously got up and formed a mob to scurry out the door. Damian squeezed through and made a sharp left, straight for the exit.
The pungent smell of decaying garbage and sewage immediately hit Damian’s nostrils, causing him to sneer at the familiar scent. No wonder Todd always smells terrible after patrol, though he mostly reeks of iron.
Damian headed straight for the abandoned building he and Colin had stumbled upon. It has become their usual meeting spot, due to its inconspicuous nature. Unsurprisingly, Colin was already there waiting.
“Damian!” Colin exclaimed loudly as they greeted each other, exchanging a colliding hand gesture that Colin had insisted was something everyone should know.
“Did you bring the graffiti cans?” Colin questioned, one of his eyebrows raising slightly.
“Evidently,” Damian tilted his head towards the bag hanging from his shoulder.
Colin grinned and motioned for Damian to follow him as they stumbled past the rubble of the old warehouse and out into the street. He led them down a few corners and into a dark passage with a large, empty brick wall. Damian suppressed a smile at the sight — it was the perfect spot.
Colin grabbed Damian’s bag and opened it, throwing a black spray can at his face. Damian caught it without looking and immediately got to work on a darkened landscape painting. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Colin doodling and writing phrases like “ACAB” in small letters while they chatted aimlessly, sharing stories about recent weeks.
…“Then we jumped off the roof of the orphanage—“ Colin suddenly tensed mid-conversation, and Damian quickly pulled up his hoodie, having also heard the footsteps landing behind them.
“Nice art, kid.” $!&@. Red Hood. The modulated tone made Damian wince as he quickly evaluated the situation.
Todd wouldn’t arrest them, but he liked to keep track of most street kids in Crime Alley and would want to know who they were in his territory. If he realized it was Damian, he was unlikely to snitch to Father — but he already had enough blackmail on Damian, and he couldn’t risk losing more of his dignity during arguments. Damian glanced to his right and locked eyes with Colin. Damian grabbed his wrist and ran, Colin snatching the bag with his other arm on their way out. Damian vaguely heard Red Hood yell, “Take a compliment!” and mutter something, probably a curse, as they sprinted around several corners.
After a minute of running, they stopped and doubled over, heaving in exhaustion. Damian went silent for a second to make sure Hood wasn’t following them before they both burst out laughing. They rushed back to the warehouse, careful to avoid him.
Back at their spot, they flopped down on the beanbags they had dragged there at one point and talked senselessly for a few hours until Colin claimed he should get back before anyone else woke up. They parted ways, and Damian quietly made the long journey home.
He took the train again and walked from the station back to his house. Damian scaled the wall and slipped through the window. The blistering cold abruptly softened as he stepped one leg through the windowsill, causing him to sigh in relief. Just as he turned the doorknob to his room—
“Gremlin. What are you doing?” Drake looked smug. His eyes darted past Damian to the bag he had just dragged into the manor.
“What are you doing drinking Zesti at 4:00 in the morning?” Damian snapped back quickly, eager to avoid the question and change the subject. Drake smiled smugly and sipped his grape-flavored energy drink, seemingly unfazed by the question. Damian noticed a used skateboard tucked between the arm in which he held his drink.
Drake followed his gaze: “Found the old Redboard in storage. Cool, right? Wanna come later?”
Damian didn’t have any interest in his brother’s hobbies. He raised his eyebrows and made an excuse, “I have an assignment to complete.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. “The missing one you got benched for? We both know you’re not going to do it. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Damian quickly countered, “I’ve never participated in this activity.”
“You scared you’ll fall?” Drake asked condescendingly. Damian still looked unconvinced, despite the mocking tone he would usually fall for.
“If you don’t come, I’ll tell Bruce you snuck out.”
“What? That’s…” How did he know? Probably his stalking tendencies… Damian believed he was very inconspicuous. Well, besides the large bag to his right… and the open windowsill beside him. From which, the cool air outside was slowly seeping into the heated manor. “Fine.”
Drake grinned at his victory. “See you at 3:00. And don’t show up wearing that, you look like a petty thief… or Jason, which is arguably worse!” He yelled the last part as Damian rolled his eyes and closed the door.
However, as Damian turned into his room, the corners of his lips shaped slightly upwards. He had needed to update his art there.