Any chance for a character sheet so I could begin working?
@Sep Not to step on the GM's toes or anything, but it seems that traffic has been pretty slow for this one, and considering your experience you'd probably have a fairly decent shot of getting accepted. On that note what sorta character were you thinking of fashioning?
Yes, I would like to express my interest in participating. I am curious however, as I intend to create a younger padawan character. Would you encourage creating Apprentice - Master relationships between fellow player participants, or would you rather I create a NPC Jedi Knight myself? Or is either option available?
Sometimes, morality mattered little when a man was pushed beyond his normal limits. When the orbital locked superweapons unleashed their hellish weather upon Gotham, Damian found himself forced indoors to escape the downpour, taking cover in the belltower of a large Catholic priory. Lifting a few casual civilian garments off the church’s slumbering inhabitants and a small blanket he spent the greater part of the night in fitful sleep between the rolls of thunder and howling wind, mulling over the irony of his predicament. The wealthiest person in Gotham, and one of the richest in the world by order of inheritance forcing himself upon the unknowing and most likely unwilling charity of those vowed to minimalism. Even if he’d wanted to utilize the vast resources left to him to try for a motel room, Federal offices had already frozen his father’s accounts. Seizing all of Bruce Wayne’s assets, using the untapped efficiency the bureaucratic state could only muster when it came to finance control. Even attempting to withdraw a single cent would trigger an immediate response from the authorities, who would bear down upon the unfortunate place of business bringing with them a full brigade of GCPD and Federal Agents. Or even worse, SHIELD. Thus ensnared in temporary poverty Damian wrapped himself in a ragged sheet and did his best to ignore his rumbling stomach and the constant atmospheric changes occurring outdoors.
Early morning arrived all too soon, and Damian having barely managed an hour’s proper rest was rudely awakened by the shuffling of feet upon stone. Snapping upright, all sense of exhaustion forgotten Damian bundled the assorted Bat-gear under his blanket, shoving it all into the darkest corner of the belfry just a wrinkled face appeared at the door. “Oh, hello there young sir. Frightful weather we’re having, wouldn’t you agree?” A spindly old fellow stepped inside bringing a mop and yellow bucket full of soapy water behind him. He seemed rather unconcerned by the stranger residing here and began going about his work as if it were entirely normal for Damian to be there. He worked studiously, mopping the small stone floor with practiced ease, even going around, and leaving undisturbed Damian’s precariously concealed gear. He was no threat; he must have been at least sixty and showing his age poorly. His tired hands shook just moving the filled bucket. In short order he completed his task, before he looked back at the somewhat stricken Damian. “You know, we have proper quarters downstairs, where you can get off the streets and out of the weather if you have nowhere else to go. No need to burgle and hide amongst the rafters.”
Damian glanced down at the blue jeans and long sleeve he had stolen last night. Imagine someone offering charity to a Wayne, to him of all people who should have toughed the conditions and honored his father’s legacy. A Wayne should not beg, but nor should he resort to becoming a common thief. Another disappointment to add to the list. Chalk it up to his own pathetic weakness on the steady onrush of failures that had been the last few days. “I cannot pay, so I will return them.” He swore it at once, but could he afford to? He needed these garments if he wished to approach Barbra without eliciting undue suspicion. He supposed he could consider an attempt during the night in uniform, but attracting her attention would be nearly impossible without also alerting James Gordon or the constant police presence around his home. Hell approaching her in civilian attire would be difficult enough.
“No need son.” The old man waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Damian almost wished he demanded recompense of some kind. It would be easier than accepting handouts. “I’m sure we could find the means to buy Matthew a new pair. The Church is so very generous after all with their donations, and I’m sure you need them more.”
He felt sick to his stomach, and he bit back a sharp word of denial. Losing control would only worsen his guilt. “I cannot accept, I will return them and leave, just, you must go downstairs until I finish changing first.” Obviously, the old man had not recognized him yet. Most people probably wouldn’t outright. He had been just another one of Bruce Wayne’s many wards. Following a short-lived flurry in the tabloids the excitement around him died down, and he disappeared behind Bruce’s large shadow vanishing from the public eye. Or at least he had, now his face was no doubt circling the internet, and would very soon be back in the current conversation. Not that this old man used the internet much. He’d probably be safe for awhile. Still, if he changed into the bat suit right in front of him, that would most certainly turn into a story, and the last thing Damian needed was the entire world knowing that Batman was resorting to sleeping in church towers.
The elder appeared troubled by Damian’s insistence. “You would rather steal than accept charity? Oh the foolish pride of youth.” He stroked his wispy white beard at great length, contemplating this unorthodox impasse. “Very well, consider them a loan. Once you have financially regained your footing, I expect their worth paid in full, plus one night’s stay and interest of one percent a month. Is this acceptable to you?” He waited patiently for the young man to absorb that offer, the boy seemed both shocked and uncertain about the idea prompting the elder to lesson his offer. “If that is too much, I could always reduce the price. Just the clothes paid for, and no interest-“
“No!” Damian threw up and hand, stopping the elder before he could finish. “I find the first deal acceptable. I assume you are the prior who I will pay?”
The old man laughed, taking up his bucket and mop he departed leaving the young man to himself. “No, no I am just the custodian, I’ll explain everything to Prior Andrew though. Remember, if you want to stay the night please come downstairs, I imagine this belfry is drafty during the night, and a stone floor is no substitute for a bed.” Chuckling he disappeared downstairs leaving Damian alone once again.
Towering above the city streets a lone sentinel kept his silent vigil, hidden amongst the gothic architecture that dominated Gotham’s downtown districts. Any casual observer might have mistaken the motionless figure for one gargoyle amongst the others, chiseled decades before from dark granite and left forgotten. Even the light wind, tugging playfully at the young man’s hair and cape could not drive him to movement, chilled to the bone though he was. He kept his rebellious body in check, denying his teeth from chattering and his body from shivering. In unusual form for the normally secretive Dark Knight the cowl was pulled back, leaving Damian’s face exposed to the elements and prying eyes. The rain had not yet relented its hold over the city, and the water soaked through Batman’s exposed hair, running down his gaunt cheeks. Dark bags hung under his bloodshot eyes, and evident exhaustion battled to take control and allow the easy drift unto slumber, held only at bay by Batman’s sheer will and the cool rain he let fall upon his countenance. The silent watcher felt his eyes droop, and he shook himself refocusing on the third story window across the thirty-foot gap separating his hiding spot and the Gotham Memorial Hospital.
Foot traffic had lessened considerably since that afternoon, early evening had come and gone, and the later hours of the night were fast approaching. Judging by his internal clock Damian would have determined the time to be nine in the evening, and yet already darkness had fallen in full effect. Just enough people to blend in, and just few enough to witness an attack, the perfect time to strike. Damian’s green eyes slid from one pedestrian to the next, centering his attentions on those entering the hospital itself. Finding the location was simple, child’s play really. An easy hack into Gotham PD’s records gave him the address, ward, room, and even stationed security within the compound. A quick examination of the city blueprint records gave him a reasonable assumption for the easiest entry points, and even the best location to maintain watch over the area not already patrolled by officers. All that remained was to wait and be ready for when they arrived to finish their grisly work. And what then? Swoop down to fight amongst hostile police or remain hidden and hope he could deal with any potential threat undetected. He almost hopped for the challenge, after six hours crouched upon the windswept roof, he longed to stretch his muscles.
Behind him, unbeknownst to the new Batman a lone figure alighted on the arched roof, creeping steadily closer. White silts glowed beneath a crimson hood in wanton anticipation, an unsheathed 1911 held loosely in the figure’s left hand. Very few people could lay claim to being able to surprise Damian, for the hooded figure even his success most likely was a combination of the younger man’s intent focus, and the steady rain that worked wonders in drowning out the tiny scuffs of his boots. “You forgot to put on the cowl Dami.”
Batman jumped, jerking away on instinct alone, a flood of adrenaline turning every inch of his body into a coiled spring, ready to leap away or fight at a moment’s notice. For a minute, his green eyes locked onto Red Hood’s emotionless mask, and then he calmed himself, letting the pent-up energy fade away, unspent. “Jason Todd.” He murmured in a familiar but not too untoward manner, watching the barrel of the .45 pistol warily. Determining the Red Hood did not want to kill him, at least not yet Batman returned to his vigil, as if he could simply ignore the intruder until he went away. Internally he berated himself for failing to notice Hood before the masked vigilante caught him off guard. He figured his new guest would make his intentions clear soon enough on his own, unprompted. Red Hood held their mutual silence, but true to his nature the vigilante could not remain unobtrusive for long. He stepped forward, grasping the hanging cowl and slipping it over Damian’s features, concealing his face beneath the dark fabric.
“Weren’t you taught to always wear your mask while in uniform? Or have standards been slipping since I left?”
“What’s the point?” Damian spat, bitterly pulling the cowl off once again. “They hide nothing anymore.” Bruce had always been adamant about keeping their secret as close as possible. The number of living people who knew their true identities could have been counted on two hands, or at least that was the case until three days prior when the entire world, and several alien species were let in on the secret. Everything Bruce worked so long to protect gone in an instant, and everyone and everything revealed beneath the light of day.
Red Hood gave an impatient sigh, “Because you look like shit and no one wants to see your ugly mug.” Damian heard the gun sheath and the slight hiss of escaping air as the armored facemask that concealed Jason Todd’s scarred visage released. Of all Bruce Wayne’s wards, in Damian’s eyes Jason was the ugliest by far. Brutish features, crooked teeth, and an ugly scar running from his left temple down to his chin marred whatever charm he might have once possessed. Damian had seen a photograph of Jason before he had died and something else had changed as well. Something visual, but not quite describable behind the man’s haunted eyes. Damian bit back a retort, going back to ignoring Jason, which the other man took as an invitation to continue. “You seem almost bitter about being an infamous celebrity. Didn’t expect to appear in the headlines as well as the rest of us?” He inquired before answering his own question. “He must have betrayed your trust in the end. That must have been a shocking revelation, and here I was thinking you gave up everything including your own name willingly. Heh, is that why you killed Hans Zuthenlifer? Revenge for revealing your identity as well? Isn’t that ironic…” Jason dropped down next to Damian, his feet dangling over the edge as he peered towards the third story hospital room across from them.
“What are you on about Todd?” If Damian did not know better, it almost sounded like Jason was accusing him of betraying his own family. The German’s words returned to him in a flash, like an alarm bell in his ears. Everyone would think he told. But how? Surely of all people Jason Todd would see past the paper-thin lie. Damian’s heartrate quickened and his eyes snapped away from the hospital’s entrance to glare back into Jason’s accusing gaze. “What do you mean?” He asked, more forceful this time.
“Don’t play dumb.” Jason mocked; his posture become more aggressive by the word. “Everything Hans Zuthenlifer claimed and wrote about was provided by the Lernaean Cohort, every bit of evidence he needed to prove his revelation to the world who Batman and his partners were, all released to him by that particular hero group. And who, was the little shit that led them for four months?” He prodded Damian in the chest, right where the bat symbol was emblazoned, his eyebrows raised as if challenging the younger man to deny his words. “I might not be the detective Bruce was, but doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together Damian. You left Wayne Manor after fighting Bruce, and four months later your team miraculously leaks vital data that just about destroys everything.” For a moment Jason seemed to catch himself, his voice breaking as if he was fighting back his emotion. “He has son, and a wife… Not that you care. You’re just here to finish the job, aren’t you?”
“Shut up Todd!” Damian jumped to his feet, shadowed by Jason. The Red Hood was slightly taller, and of heavier build allowing him to look down on his surrogate brother. Nearly every fight they ever had Jason came out on top. But they had not gone against each other in years, and Jason’s spiteful words had Damian rearing to try and even the score. If only there was no other, more pressing matters at hand. “Just shut up already, you have no idea what you’re talking about, and I’ll hear no more of it. In case you have not noticed that’s Grayson’s room across the way, and I’d rather keep him safe than deal with you. Run away, before I grow impatient and throw you back into the gutter where you belong.”
“Oh is that right?” Jason snorted, his dark eyes locked against Damian’s green, never once wavering. “You’re here to keep Dick safe, isn’t that rich? That’s what I’m doing, and have been doing for the last twenty-four hours. Imagine my shock when you come along and take up position right across from his window. I figure you’re waiting for the opportunity to finish him off, or were you standing watch to let someone else do your dirty work. Either way you are lucky I didn’t kill you the first chance I had. Guess, I ought’a give you the chance to try and explain yourself. Maybe plead for mercy. I shouldn’t have expected much from a traitor.”
Shocked rage contorted the younger man’s face. “How dare you insinuate I’d try to harm Grayson. I’m here to protect him.”
“Fat lot of good you’ve done on that front.” Jason shot back. He flung a hand towards the distant window. “Far as I can see all of this is your fault, so Damian, give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop you right here, right now?”
“Why don’t you try?”
The tension could have been cut by a knife. The two vigilantes stood separated by mere inches, like twin coiled springs ready to pounce and fight to the death, and truly a battle it would be. Jason was the fighter, always had been. From his first breath to his last, and to his first again he’d been a hot-blooded warrior, throwing everything he possessed into every blow, never faltering in his utter conviction towards victory. Despite the bold face, and his own stubborn pride Damian wasn’t convinced he could win, especially not in his current state of exhaustion. Though, judging by the dark bags under Jason’s eyes and stubble on his chin it had been a while since the Red Hood had gotten a proper six hours of rest as well. Nevertheless, doubt was the first step towards defeat, and the worm of it crawled in Damian’s heart. If he wanted a chance, he would have to keep his temper in check and think his way through the contest, and his foe was no idiot. Then Jason swung first.
The opening stages happened in a furious whirlwind, leaving Batman reacting mostly on an instinct derived from thousands of hours of practice. First came containment, deriving Red Hood of his most lethal weaponry, which meant keeping him at close range, and his hands busy. Hood did not even attempt to draw his guns, instead driving forward like a bull, catching the smaller man a heavy blow to the side of his face and throwing him to the ground. Landing hard Batman tried rolling away but his adversary remained persistent forcing him into a steady retreat. Every time the Dark Knight managed to regain his footing the Hood would knock him back down. Splatters of bloody saliva sprinkled the rooftop, dribbling from Batman’s lip. Every blow felt heavier than the last, faster and fiercer than anything Batman had ever encountered from the Red Hood before. He couldn’t keep up, couldn’t compete against the sheer ferocity unleashed. They clashed again, blocking, dodging, striking in a flurry swifter than the eye could follow. Batman landed two glancing hits, and received a repost to his lower rib cage in response, dropping the younger man to his hands and knees, gasping for air.
Their bout lasted less than minute and served to remind Damian just how outmatched he was against this particular opponent. Jason wasn’t here to mess around; he did not pull his punches and Damian had failed in his one recourse to keep his temper in check and strategize his way through the battle. Frustration fueled the rage that had been smoldering since the start of this fiasco. Since the death of father, since the wounding of Dick Grayson, since the betrayal by his team and the confrontation with Gordan. The final straw, losing to Jason again and being accused of a wrong he did not commit. It was all too much. Snarling he rose swinging wildly. Red Hood stepped back dodging the haymaker and delivered a swift kick to Batman’s stomach dropping him again. Twice Batman attempted to regain momentum, each effort receiving equal brutal denial leaving the defeat vigilante back where he started.
For a second Batman remained where he was, trying to keep the world from blurring out of focus. His green eyes locked onto a humble scene far below where the pedestrians went about their business unaware of the duel taking place far above their heads. By the visitors entrance a older police officer, in a heavy service coat, with the collar turned up against the rain pushed a young red-haired woman in a wheelchair, accompanied by what could only be her young son. Barbra Grayson? It must have been, and her father Commissioner Gordon as well. The distant trio moved quickly across the rain-soaked pavement to a waiting car where the officer helped the woman board, before tucking her chair in vehicle’s trunk. Batman watched the vehicle peel away, catching a glimpse of its plates before it vanished from sight. There had been no police record of where Barbra had vanished too after the Grayson family home had been attacked. It only made sense that she would be living with her father. James Gordon would be more than willing to take his daughter and grandson in during their time of need. Slowly, to avoid eliciting any further attacks by the Red Hood the Dark Knight eased himself to his feet, clutching at a sharp pain in his side. Hood watched him suspiciously, but respected Batman’s open raised hand, the sign for temporary quarter. Wiping a smear from his lip he nodded towards the distant window, the one they both knew contained their elder brother Dick Grayson, comatose and vulnerable. “You’ll stay here and protect him?” Damian coughed, tasting the metallic warmth of blood on his tongue. Jason considered him, as if determining what schemes the younger man was devising. At long last he nodded.
“As long as he needs me.”
A sense of relief washed over Damian. Judging by the beating he’d just received someone would have to be crazy to try and finish Grayson off. Their wounded brother would be in good hands, at least until he was well enough to fend for himself. Meanwhile Damian could reprioritize his efforts. With Barbra’s help he might even be able to recover a few clues as to his father’s final case, or even the whereabouts of the missing Tim Drake. First and foremost, he needed a shower, some civilian clothes, and something to stop his lip from bleeding. Damian’s hand fell to his utility belt, retrieving a small gray capsule, the last of two. He’d have to make more of these sooner or later, he was starting to run out. “And what of me,” he inquired, of Jason his short term plans complete. “Are you going to kill me?”
Once again Jason seemed hesitant. He shrugged, resting a hand on his yet undrawn pistol. “I dunno. Haven’t decided yet. One thing is for sure you need to be hurt a little bit more before I make up my mind.”
“Fair enough… Whenever you decide let me know.” The last word said Damian dropped the smoke pellet releasing a burst of concealing chemicals that spread across the roof and upwards before finally dissipating. Jason made no move to stop Batman’s escape. Retrieving his armored facemask, he fitted the vacuum seal into place and turned away. This wasn’t over, obligation to Grayson aside when the opportunity came, he would find Damian again, and finish their battle for good.
Name: Damian Wayne Hero Name: Batman Known Alias': Previously Robin Age: Twenty-three
Powers:
Lacking any true powers beyond peak human conditioning, Damian Wayne is nevertheless a undeniably dangerous individual. His upbringing, from the moment he could walk has been in the pursuit of fashioning him as the Alexander the Great of the modern age. He has received training from the formidable League of Assassins in the ways of a warrior, and the stealth of an assassin. Top education from private tutors molded his mind to know numbers and theories, and studious effort under his father Bruce Wayne taught him all manner of detective work and gave him an eye for mystery and strategy. Both learned and natural talents are his powers, allowing Damian to excel in his line of work, and he knows it.
He learned well, throwing himself into the role which had been chosen for him by dint of birth. His mother always told him he was destined for greatness, his grandfather promised him the inheritance of the Demon’s head, and by rights the legacy of the Wayne family was his burden to bear; meaning he had much to live up too. Dedicated to making his family proud and emboldened by promises of greatness Damian forced himself to succeed where others would fail or surrender to vice. Thus, at an early age he knew mixed martial arts, swordplay, advanced arithmetic, and infiltration and evasion tactics on par with the average Shadow assassin. At nine he was given over to his father’s care, though their time together was short lived he learned his place at Batman’s side as Robin. Developing his initial understanding of detective skills. Under Dick Grayson’s guardianship Damian grew to be a better person, learning restraint and how to laugh, shedding some of the torturous burden laid upon him by his Grandfather and mother. With Grayson’s careful guidance he learned to plan his battles, when to attack, when to go all out and when to be reserved. A lesson he is still absorbing to this day on even after a decade to work on it.
Eventually Bruce Wayne returned to the living and retook his rightful place as Batman; Damian continued his education, enhancing his already poignant skills under his parent’s sharp eyes. Honing himself to be on par with the caped crusader, competing tooth and nail against his equally competent adopted brothers for Bruce’s attentions. Damian forced himself to outshine them all, there was no other option. He would honor his father, and earn the name owed to him, come hell or high water.
Equipment:
The Batman arsenal has been severely limited as of late. Following the fateful hours of Protocol Knightfall most of the Batcave, and other hideouts were destroyed, and their contents, weapons, and data erased from existence. The new Batman, Damian Wayne has been forced to scrounge for the few assets remaining, including his father’s utility belt, grapple guns, a few dozen batarangs, among other gadgets. His own hideout created following his separation from Bruce has given him a few mismatch pieces to fill out the vulnerabilities in his gear, such as his sword, smoke pellets, and various explosives, leaving him equipped in a mishmash of Robin and Batman gear. His personal motorcycle survived Protocol Knightfall, as well as a single wrist datapad, and a laptop Damian had on him containing some of Batman’s vast file collection. Attempting to rebuild is his top priority, and resecuring lost assets is a must, as criminals, government agents, and even other vigilantes pilfer Bruce Wayne’s vast network of supply caches and hideouts, hoping to find extravagant Batgear unguarded.
Appearance:
Given his life of near constant extreme physical activity Damian Wayne has a body to match. Tall and lean he has long ago shed the last of his boyishness for a strong jaw and angular features. In many ways he takes after his mother, though it is often a trick of the eye due to his youth and focus on agility. He lacks his father’s heavier build, and even in the bulky body armor of the Batsuit it is painfully clear that a different person has donned the cowl. Not that Damian makes any effort to pretend otherwise. Due to his slightly smaller stature while in uniform he is forced to wear an assortment of old Robin gear, alongside the traditional Batman garb. His boots and gloves are a conspicuous dark green, clashing against the drab grey and black of the body suit, which even still sits loosely over his shoulders. The utility belt is yellow, but instead of the bat symbol it possesses a golden R, though most of these oddities can be concealed beneath the heavy cape and cowl and a good shadow, not that Damian overly cares about his mismatch appearance. After all, he has got far more pressing matters to concern himself with.
Known Affiliations:
Damian had a short run with the Teen Titans during his starting days under Batman’s tutelage even leading them for a short period. Due to his obvious disdain for the other teenage heroes, he was eventually booted from the team by popular vote, and has never truly reclaimed their respect, not that he ever wanted it to begin with. Otherwise, the only other team Damian has been associated with was the small group of like-minded ex-sidekicks who called themselves the Lernaean Cohort, which Damian joined after his argument and separation from Bruce. Their eventual betrayal and attempt to subdue him forced Damian back to Gotham, and into hiding.
It would seem the entire world has risen up against Damian. He has nowhere to turn, and no one to trust. His former guardian and elder brother Nightwing is out of commission in a coma. Bruce Wayne, and Talia Al Ghul his father and mother are dead. The League of Assassins is ruled by Slade Wilson, making them an enemy as well. Timothy Drake is missing, and what few friends or allies who might have sided with him have either disowned the outlaw hero, or actively hunt him down. His own team, the Lernaean Cohort have betrayed him, leaving him alone and unable to trust anyone. The few names of his old friends, if they can be called that is small, and ever shrinking. Only a few trustworthy people persist, though whether Damian dares approach them and risk everything to scrounge a few allies remains to be seen.
Barbra Grayson/Oracle: The daughter of Commissioner Gordon, Barbra is one of Batman’s longest allies, having stuck around to assist the caped crusader even after being paralyzed by Joker. She is also technically Damian's sister-in-law. She is one of the few members of the Bat Clan to not have been outed in the purge, her identity thankfully remaining concealed. She would prove a valuable ally, if Damian can convince her not to turn him in.
Johnathan Grayson: The acrobatic ten-year-old son of Dick and Barbra Grayson, this heir apparent is itching to seek vengeance for his father’s current state of malady. After the Bat Clan was outed the villains seeking revenge against Nightwing came in force, and it was only the undeniable courage and skill of Dick Grayson that kept the entire family alive. But Nightwing’s heroic sacrifice came a terrible cost, and the hero lies horrifically wounded, perhaps even mortally so at the hands of Deathstroke. John lives with his mother in witness protection, but the boy trains at every opportunity, eagerly awaiting his chance to avenge his fallen father, and take up the mantle of hero.
Jon Kent/Superman: The two might have been called friends once. The two sons of the Justice League’s leaders were brought together over several adventures, fighting crime as the dysfunctional, yet powerful duo. Although Damian will never admit his fondness for the boy in blue he might find a friend in Jon still. Though he rightfully fears interacting with Superman, lest he be taken into custody. Approaching Jon could be dangerous, an endeavor that must be handled with utmost care.
Enemies, Damian has not shortage of them. Old foes, new foes they surround him like a plague, seeking revenge against him and his father. The walls are closing in, and even the new Batman for all his skills cannot fight them all…
Slade Wilson/Deathstoke: After slaying Ra’s Al Ghul, and Talia, all Slade needed was to finish off the heir apparent to the throne of the League of Assassins. Those who might have been loyal to Damian are either dead or in hiding, having been foresworn by their prophesized leader. Now Slade commands the Shadows, and seeks to solidify his claim through any means necessary. Which means the new Batman is at the top of his long list of targets.
Commissioner James Gordon: For so long Gordon tolerated, and even aided the Batman in his crusade for justice. Often turning a blind eye to the Bat’s less palatable tactics and occasional brutality. However, there was always a line, and though Bruce Wayne never crossed it, his son did, on his first debut as Batman. Forced to choose between a lifelong alliance and the cold-blooded murder, Gordon stuck to his principles and ordered the arrest of Damian Wayne, a.k.a the Batman. All of the Gotham PD, and most of the country is on alert for the outlaw vigilante, and the hunt has only just begun.
The Lernaean Cohort: For a short time Damian led this rag-tag group of ex-sidekicks, favoring their no nonsense attitude in terms of crime fighting. The day of the purge however brought about their betrayal, and they nearly defeated and captured Damian unawares. Confused, and angry Damian beat a hasty retreat to Gotham, going to ground to avoid their relentless pursuit. What they want, or why they turned on his is still a mystery. Their members consist of Joy Evans/Surge, Nicholas Pryme/Jaeger, and Vladimir Ivanoksi/Crimson Star.
Jason Todd/Red Hood: The replacement, the prodigal son, and the only other member of the Bat clan who is accused of murder, except Damian is accused of, in Jason’s eyes, something far worse. Betrayal. Traitors go the ninth level of hell for a reason. It is no secret that Damian left his place as Robin on bad terms with Bruce, and Jason has never trusted the brat anyway, so all his suspicions were merely confirmed. Damian is the reason Dick is hurt, Tim is missing, and Bruce is dead. Well… There’s no Batman around to get on his case for using lead instead of rubber anymore, and the Demon’s brat is to blame!
The Batman’s Rogues Gallery: Their names and numbers are to numerous to list here, but every one of them know his name now and hold a grudge against his father, and many hold personal vendettas against Damian himself. The streets of Gotham have always been dangerous, but for a marked man like him, it might as well be suicide.
Hydra: “Hail Hydra.” The mysterious name, and final words of a dying German journalist, the man Damian is accused of murdering. Who are they, what do they want? If Damian wants to clear his name, he needs to find out and take them down. Though the young Bat might find he is biting off far more than he or any one person can chew, because you can’t just take the head off this serpent…
Canon or OC:
Canon, sorta. Batman, and Damian Wayne have been long established in Detective Comics, however I am hoping to take advantage of this scenario and bring the new Batman up against foes and situations normally not associated with DC. Although I will attempt to keep Damian more or less accurate to his comic origins, he will undoubtedly take on a unique persona under my less than amazing writing and characterization skills.
Story Overview:
Damian will start on the verge of disaster, and things really will not get much better for him. After his separation from Batman, which lasted four months, Damian joined the Lernaean Cohort, which he soon began to lead, taking a more personalized approach to fighting crime. He was hardly the first Robin to do so, after all Bruce’s handling of his sons has always been questionable at best. Unlike his siblings Damian is as hardheaded as Bruce himself, and their differences could not be easily repaired, thus he was at first unaware of what was happening during the opening stages of Protocol Knightfall. What transpired after is mostly unknown to the new Batman, but what Damian does know is this: Batman was in Moscow, investigating something big when the entire Bat clan and several of their associates’ identities were unveiled by investigative reporter Hans Zuthenlifer. Including Timothy Drake, Jason Todd, Richard Grayson, Luke Fox, Selina Kyle, Kate Kayne, Damian Wayne, and Bruce Wayne. The purge happened in the next twelve hours, almost before anyone could fully comprehend what happened. Assassinations, and disappearances of nearly all the exposed members. The worst part, the leak was reported to have come from none other than the Lernaean Cohort, Damian’s own team.
Before he died Batman managed to initiate Protocol Knightfall, destroying most of the assets and computer records that contained any information on other members of the Justice Society, and the Bat Clan, while also detonating the Batcave before government agents or notorious villains could infiltrate Wayne manor. Meanwhile Damian confronted his team in their headquarters, demanding an explanation for this betrayal, and was met with a fight that nearly cost him his life and freedom. Robin only just managed to escape, hiding within Gotham struggling to piece together whatever remained of his father’s mission. Determined find out why this was happening Damian tracked Hans Zuthenlifer to a warehouse in downtown Gotham, but the “reporter” proved to be more of a challenge than Damian expected. In the end Hans perished, Damian’s sword thrust through his heart, as Gordon and his police moved in.
Now on the run from the law, from the remainder of the Bat clan, and from the League of Assassins Damian must use all his talents and skills and knowledge to avenge his father and clear his name. He never got the chance to reconcile with Bruce, a torture that set its roots deep in Damian’s mind, but he will persist. Alone if he has to, but he may learn that allies are necessary to wage a war, and friends are required to recover from grief, because no man is an island. Whether he discovers these truths or not he has to set things right, and if anyone could manage, it would be Damian Wayne!
Sample Post:
Tracking the German, child’s play.
Distant sirens grew ever closer, their eerie wailing cutting through the spring rain that drenched hunter and prey alike to the bone. Evening shadows lengthened as the pursuit continued, the German gasping for air in his attempt to elude the persistent shade, that stalked across Gotham’s rooftops. Slipping from alley to gutter, creeping like the ever-growing sense of fear that clung to everything. The fear of the unknown. The fear of death and despair. The German ran faster, his legs pumping in adrenaline fueled desperation. He tore at his jacket, flinging the clogging fabric into a waterlogged drain, his white undershirt clinging to his pale flesh. His wide eyes displaying the panic that kept him going, far longer than he normally could have managed. The tiniest buzz filled his ears, the sound of blades cutting air. The German threw himself forward, painful scrapes spreading blood on the wet concrete from the force of his dive, even as a small red shuriken buried itself into the ground, passing mere inches over his blonde head. The keen edge glimmered in the dim light of streetlamps, almost beautiful, yet terrifyingly so. What metal could slice through stone so easily, lodging itself into asphalt as if it were soft wood. And the arm to have thrown it? The German whimpered, scrambling to his feet he shot onwards dodging and ducking at random intervals incase the stalker attempted another throw.
Almost there, nearly free. The German sprinted the final stretch, panting like a dog he pushed open an unsecured door of an abandoned ACME warehouse disappearing within its black recesses leaving a tiny smear of blood upon the door. Outside a cowled figured dropped from above, landing lighter than a cat upon the rain-soaked pavement. Batman paused in his pursuit, examining the projectile he had thrown a moment before. Green gloved fingers pulled the thrown blade free of its stone sheath fitting it back amongst the others. The average person did not simply dodge his shuriken, the cowled man mused. A maneuver like that would take practice, training that one did not expect from the average journalist. Concerning, perhaps, but he had faced far greater foes, he need not fear an unarmed man who had good ears, and quick reflexes. Besides, even if the greatest warrior alive waited behind that door Damian would still enter. The blood of his father, the blood of his brothers and kin were on that man’s hands. Batman wrapped his fingers around his sword’s hilt, drawing forth the blade in one fluid motion. Blood must be paid in blood.
Grayson would have said to wait, to approach from an unexpected angle, to garner the advantage of surprise eve if not needed. Drake would be methodical, cutting the building’s lights, stalking his prey until he made a mistake. Bruce would have gone through the window, throwing down a covering layer of smoke on the chance his foe had hidden a gun, or weapon and was attempting an ambush on his own turf. Damian did none of these things. He stepped inside, sword hanging loosely in his grip. Outside the police sirens grew louder, and destiny drew ever nearer.
“Hello, Damian Wayne.” A slight German accent hung to the man’s words, otherwise his English remained perfect.
“Hans Zuthenlifer.” The silence stretched between them, and Hans did not move. He stood idly amidst a small circle of light in the middle of the warehouse empty floor, all signs of panic and exhaustion were gone. Replaced by an air of satisfaction, of a man who had done his job, and done it well. He seemed to be waiting for something, listening for the right moment.
Batman strode closer until he stood as well in the light, the tip of his sword scraping along the stone beside him, leaving a tiny scar upon its surface. What would he do? Damian did not even know himself, all he could think about was that smug look on the German’s face. The way he seemed so satisfied in himself. “You killed them, don’t try to deny it.”
“I have committed no crimes. Cut no throats, enacted no plots or otherwise.” Hans rebutted, infuriatingly collected. He approached Batman unconcerned by the naked blade, his blue eyes piercing through the cowl and straight into Damian’s soul. “I told only the truth, the truth that needed telling.”
“Who betrayed our secret?” Damian raged, quick as a snake he flicked his sword out, pressing the edge against Hans’ throat, hard enough to produce a pinprick of blood. He had honed it for hours, listening to the reports on the news again and again. Gone, missing, dead. So many of his family, the only ones who remained, who had ever tolerated his presence, people who would never come back. The German did not resist, looking down at the gloved hand that clutched his shirt, pulling him closer towards certain death. The older man clucked his tongue in disdain, like a wearied parent once again correcting a wayward child.
“Do you not recall? You did of course? Or at least, that is what they will think. After all, every mission has its contingencies. If one should fail, another will simply take its place.”
Beneath the cowl Damian’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Pulling the blade away he struck Hans across the face with the hilt, sending the older man to the ground in a splatter of blood. “Lies!” Damian kicked the cringing fool, once, twice, and again until his grunts of pain turned into wheezing coughs. “I have never met or spoken to you before in my life. How could I have been the traitor? Are you an idiot or do you just enjoy the pain?” He rolled the moaning German over until he lay on his back, blood running from his crack lips and broken nose. “Tell me the truth, or I swear to God I’ll kill you. Who. Betrayed. Us?”
A chilling laugh erupted from the beaten man. He reached out and grasped the hanging blade, his bare hand tightening around the battle-scarred edge until his palm ran red. “You are not your father, are you Damian? Not nearly as quick. Did you not hear me? For I have already told you the only answer that matters, you did the deed. You will come to learn that results matter far more than accuracy. Now we have wasted our time enough. The hour is upon us, and they have arrived.” Faster than Batman would have thought possible the German kicked out, striking the cowled vigilante at the knee. Fluid and swift he delivered a series of complicated blows sending the younger man sprawling, taken off guard by the ferocity and skill the German possessed. Batman floundered for only a second, rolling away from the punishment and springing to his feet. The German stilled held his sword by the blade, clutching the weapon before him in both hands, and wild light in his bright eyes. Hurtling forward Batman reached for the hilt, ready to wrench his weapon back, but the German made no attempt to resist him. He smiled as the force of Batman’s lunge slid the slender steel between his ribs and into his heart. Perfectly preformed, and executed to the precise detail, even still the pain could not be ignored. He gasped, his body quivering as his heart struggled to continue even as vital arteries bled internally. The surprise on Batman’s face told it all, Hans smiled.
“They failed in their mission, but I do not fail in mine.” He rasped, as the darkness closed around him. The warehouse door burst open, men in black and blue uniforms spilling through the doorway firearms at the ready. Their shouts and commands fell upon deaf ears. Batman stared down at Hans, horrified, or merely shocked Hans could not say. His senses were dulling he realized, he was dying. Leaning forward Hans whispered into Damian’s ear his final words. “Hail Hydra.”
He died… Batman slid his sword free of the dead man’s chest, a sickening squelch echoing throughout the quiet of the warehouse, even the policemen were silent. Blood pooled at the vigilante’s feet, its sweet scent filling his lungs. The pounding of his heart beat a steady tattoo in his ears, a tune which only Damian could hear. “Murderer, murderer, murderer!” No! Damian clenched his hands into fists, it was an accident. I did not betray father’s memory, it could not be helped, nothing could be done. Hans had practically committed suicide. Only the burning question remained. How could the German have known so much?
“Drop the sword Batman!” The sharp order cut Batman off from his internal debate. James Gordon, the old greybeard commissioner fixed his sights upon the black cowl. A damn shame, he had practically watched this boy grow up, catching glimpses of him getting stronger and smarter by the day. Every time he would drop from the shadows at Batman’s side, upon the stationhouse roof. James had always taken special care to double check Batman’s young partners, to ensure their health and wellbeing. His own personal beliefs against the practice aside Robin had always been a boon to Batman, and a credit to the city. Bitter regret filled James Gordon to his core. He had tried his best to protect Batman and his proteges for so long, only to fail here in Batman’s final hours. When everything was falling apart. “Why’d you have to do it son? Is this what your father would have wanted?” The secret was out, everyone who even halfway glanced at the news knew. “Damian Wayne, you are under arrest for murder in the first degree. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, drop the sword and come quietly… I promise we’ll figure something out.”
“No.” The sword clattered to the ground, at Batman’s feet, and a few of the policemen twitched. If Batman could be driven to kill, he would be a dangerous man to bring in alive. “I made a mistake, I facilitated this, I should have followed Batm- my father’s wishes and not used a sword.” Damian stared down at his hands; the gloves stained red by Hans’ blood. “But I did not murder him, I have not yet been driven to do such a thing. However he is responsible for Bruce Wayne’s death, and Drake’s, and Grayson’s and he intended it. He deserved to die, whether at my hand or the law’s, but I did not take his life.”
A flutter of hope Gordon realized, his grey mustache twitching in approval. “You have evidence?”
“I need time.” Batman promised, his eyes darting across the room. Ten rifles were trained on him, and nearly that many pistols. Far too many to fight, and if they opened fire even he could not throw down smoke cover in time. The armor plating in his vest might catch a few, but his head, arms, and legs were vulnerable. He just needed the slightest distraction; his green eyes scanned his surroundings before fixating on the old fire suppression pipes overhead. An alarm activated system. He spotted the lever nearby and began moving, careful in concealing his purpose, every step shadowed by nearly two dozen ready barrels.
Letting out a frustrated sigh Gordon lowered his pistol, the old Colt forty felt heavier in his aging hands than it ever had before. “You know I can’t accept that, even in your unique circumstance. I understand why you did it son, but no one is above the law. Not even Batman. Now stop where you are and make this easy on all of us. Let our processes determine your innocence or guilt, and for Hans likewise.”
Batman froze, his chin thrust forward in his trademarked sneer, as his hand rose gradually into the air in feigned surrender. “When has the law ever applied to me or my father? How much have we done for this ungrateful city? His quest to rid it of crime was lofty, but he has saved countless lives. I saved countless lives and we did it around the law. Around you.”
“Don’t make me do it.” Gordon warned, the tightness in his voice like an old dog’s growl ready to spring into one last fight.
“Well, I have work to do, and if you won’t get onboard and help, I’ll continue to do it around the law, and around you. Stay out of my way Gordon.” His piece said Batman smashed through the thin glass protecting the lever and activated the fire suppression. The majority of the policemen flinched at the first drops of cold water blinded them for the briefest of moments. A volley of smoke pellets were already in air bursting all around the disoriented officers. Unfazed Gordon sighted and fired, the bullet striking squarely in the center of the Dark Knight’s chest as he disappeared into the cloud. Gone before the casing hit the floor.
Name: Damian Wayne Hero Name: Batman Known Alias': Previously Robin Age: Twenty-three
Powers:
Lacking any true powers beyond peak human conditioning, Damian Wayne is nevertheless a undeniably dangerous individual. His upbringing, from the moment he could walk has been in the pursuit of fashioning him as the Alexander the Great of the modern age. He has received training from the formidable League of Assassins in the ways of a warrior, and the stealth of an assassin. Top education from private tutors molded his mind to know numbers and theories, and studious effort under his father Bruce Wayne taught him all manner of detective work and gave him an eye for mystery and strategy. Both learned and natural talents are his powers, allowing Damian to excel in his line of work, and he knows it.
He learned well, throwing himself into the role which had been chosen for him by dint of birth. His mother always told him he was destined for greatness, his grandfather promised him the inheritance of the Demon’s head, and by rights the legacy of the Wayne family was his burden to bear; meaning he had much to live up too. Dedicated to making his family proud and emboldened by promises of greatness Damian forced himself to succeed where others would fail or surrender to vice. Thus, at an early age he knew mixed martial arts, swordplay, advanced arithmetic, and infiltration and evasion tactics on par with the average Shadow assassin. At nine he was given over to his father’s care, though their time together was short lived he learned his place at Batman’s side as Robin. Developing his initial understanding of detective skills. Under Dick Grayson’s guardianship Damian grew to be a better person, learning restraint and how to laugh, shedding some of the torturous burden laid upon him by his Grandfather and mother. With Grayson’s careful guidance he learned to plan his battles, when to attack, when to go all out and when to be reserved. A lesson he is still absorbing to this day on even after a decade to work on it.
Eventually Bruce Wayne returned to the living and retook his rightful place as Batman; Damian continued his education, enhancing his already poignant skills under his parent’s sharp eyes. Honing himself to be on par with the caped crusader, competing tooth and nail against his equally competent adopted brothers for Bruce’s attentions. Damian forced himself to outshine them all, there was no other option. He would honor his father, and earn the name owed to him, come hell or high water.
Equipment:
The Batman arsenal has been severely limited as of late. Following the fateful hours of Protocol Knightfall most of the Batcave, and other hideouts were destroyed, and their contents, weapons, and data erased from existence. The new Batman, Damian Wayne has been forced to scrounge for the few assets remaining, including his father’s utility belt, grapple guns, a few dozen batarangs, among other gadgets. His own hideout created following his separation from Bruce has given him a few mismatch pieces to fill out the vulnerabilities in his gear, such as his sword, smoke pellets, and various explosives, leaving him equipped in a mishmash of Robin and Batman gear. His personal motorcycle survived Protocol Knightfall, as well as a single wrist datapad, and a laptop Damian had on him containing some of Batman’s vast file collection. Attempting to rebuild is his top priority, and resecuring lost assets is a must, as criminals, government agents, and even other vigilantes pilfer Bruce Wayne’s vast network of supply caches and hideouts, hoping to find extravagant Batgear unguarded.
Appearance:
Given his life of near constant extreme physical activity Damian Wayne has a body to match. Tall and lean he has long ago shed the last of his boyishness for a strong jaw and angular features. In many ways he takes after his mother, though it is often a trick of the eye due to his youth and focus on agility. He lacks his father’s heavier build, and even in the bulky body armor of the Batsuit it is painfully clear that a different person has donned the cowl. Not that Damian makes any effort to pretend otherwise. Due to his slightly smaller stature while in uniform he is forced to wear an assortment of old Robin gear, alongside the traditional Batman garb. His boots and gloves are a conspicuous dark green, clashing against the drab grey and black of the body suit, which even still sits loosely over his shoulders. The utility belt is yellow, but instead of the bat symbol it possesses a golden R, though most of these oddities can be concealed beneath the heavy cape and cowl and a good shadow, not that Damian overly cares about his mismatch appearance. After all, he has got far more pressing matters to concern himself with.
Known Affiliations:
Damian had a short run with the Teen Titans during his starting days under Batman’s tutelage even leading them for a short period. Due to his obvious disdain for the other teenage heroes, he was eventually booted from the team by popular vote, and has never truly reclaimed their respect, not that he ever wanted it to begin with. Otherwise, the only other team Damian has been associated with was the small group of like-minded ex-sidekicks who called themselves the Lernaean Cohort, which Damian joined after his argument and separation from Bruce. Their eventual betrayal and attempt to subdue him forced Damian back to Gotham, and into hiding.
It would seem the entire world has risen up against Damian. He has nowhere to turn, and no one to trust. His former guardian and elder brother Nightwing is out of commission in a coma. Bruce Wayne, and Talia Al Ghul his father and mother are dead. The League of Assassins is ruled by Slade Wilson, making them an enemy as well. Timothy Drake is missing, and what few friends or allies who might have sided with him have either disowned the outlaw hero, or actively hunt him down. His own team, the Lernaean Cohort have betrayed him, leaving him alone and unable to trust anyone. The few names of his old friends, if they can be called that is small, and ever shrinking. Only a few trustworthy people persist, though whether Damian dares approach them and risk everything to scrounge a few allies remains to be seen.
Barbra Grayson/Oracle: The daughter of Commissioner Gordon, Barbra is one of Batman’s longest allies, having stuck around to assist the caped crusader even after being paralyzed by Joker. She is also technically Damian's sister-in-law. She is one of the few members of the Bat Clan to not have been outed in the purge, her identity thankfully remaining concealed. She would prove a valuable ally, if Damian can convince her not to turn him in.
Johnathan Grayson: The acrobatic ten-year-old son of Dick and Barbra Grayson, this heir apparent is itching to seek vengeance for his father’s current state of malady. After the Bat Clan was outed the villains seeking revenge against Nightwing came in force, and it was only the undeniable courage and skill of Dick Grayson that kept the entire family alive. But Nightwing’s heroic sacrifice came a terrible cost, and the hero lies horrifically wounded, perhaps even mortally so at the hands of Deathstroke. John lives with his mother in witness protection, but the boy trains at every opportunity, eagerly awaiting his chance to avenge his fallen father, and take up the mantle of hero.
Jon Kent/Superman: The two might have been called friends once. The two sons of the Justice League’s leaders were brought together over several adventures, fighting crime as the dysfunctional, yet powerful duo. Although Damian will never admit his fondness for the boy in blue he might find a friend in Jon still. Though he rightfully fears interacting with Superman, lest he be taken into custody. Approaching Jon could be dangerous, an endeavor that must be handled with utmost care.
Enemies, Damian has not shortage of them. Old foes, new foes they surround him like a plague, seeking revenge against him and his father. The walls are closing in, and even the new Batman for all his skills cannot fight them all…
Slade Wilson/Deathstoke: After slaying Ra’s Al Ghul, and Talia, all Slade needed was to finish off the heir apparent to the throne of the League of Assassins. Those who might have been loyal to Damian are either dead or in hiding, having been foresworn by their prophesized leader. Now Slade commands the Shadows, and seeks to solidify his claim through any means necessary. Which means the new Batman is at the top of his long list of targets.
Commissioner James Gordon: For so long Gordon tolerated, and even aided the Batman in his crusade for justice. Often turning a blind eye to the Bat’s less palatable tactics and occasional brutality. However, there was always a line, and though Bruce Wayne never crossed it, his son did, on his first debut as Batman. Forced to choose between a lifelong alliance and the cold-blooded murder, Gordon stuck to his principles and ordered the arrest of Damian Wayne, a.k.a the Batman. All of the Gotham PD, and most of the country is on alert for the outlaw vigilante, and the hunt has only just begun.
The Lernaean Cohort: For a short time Damian led this rag-tag group of ex-sidekicks, favoring their no nonsense attitude in terms of crime fighting. The day of the purge however brought about their betrayal, and they nearly defeated and captured Damian unawares. Confused, and angry Damian beat a hasty retreat to Gotham, going to ground to avoid their relentless pursuit. What they want, or why they turned on his is still a mystery. Their members consist of Joy Evans/Surge, Nicholas Pryme/Jaeger, and Vladimir Ivanoksi/Crimson Star.
Jason Todd/Red Hood: The replacement, the prodigal son, and the only other member of the Bat clan who is accused of murder, except Damian is accused of, in Jason’s eyes, something far worse. Betrayal. Traitors go the ninth level of hell for a reason. It is no secret that Damian left his place as Robin on bad terms with Bruce, and Jason has never trusted the brat anyway, so all his suspicions were merely confirmed. Damian is the reason Dick is hurt, Tim is missing, and Bruce is dead. Well… There’s no Batman around to get on his case for using lead instead of rubber anymore, and the Demon’s brat is to blame!
The Batman’s Rogues Gallery: Their names and numbers are to numerous to list here, but every one of them know his name now and hold a grudge against his father, and many hold personal vendettas against Damian himself. The streets of Gotham have always been dangerous, but for a marked man like him, it might as well be suicide.
Hydra: “Hail Hydra.” The mysterious name, and final words of a dying German journalist, the man Damian is accused of murdering. Who are they, what do they want? If Damian wants to clear his name, he needs to find out and take them down. Though the young Bat might find he is biting off far more than he or any one person can chew, because you can’t just take the head off this serpent…
Canon or OC:
Canon, sorta. Batman, and Damian Wayne have been long established in Detective Comics, however I am hoping to take advantage of this scenario and bring the new Batman up against foes and situations normally not associated with DC. Although I will attempt to keep Damian more or less accurate to his comic origins, he will undoubtedly take on a unique persona under my less than amazing writing and characterization skills.
Story Overview:
Damian will start on the verge of disaster, and things really will not get much better for him. After his separation from Batman, which lasted four months, Damian joined the Lernaean Cohort, which he soon began to lead, taking a more personalized approach to fighting crime. He was hardly the first Robin to do so, after all Bruce’s handling of his sons has always been questionable at best. Unlike his siblings Damian is as hardheaded as Bruce himself, and their differences could not be easily repaired, thus he was at first unaware of what was happening during the opening stages of Protocol Knightfall. What transpired after is mostly unknown to the new Batman, but what Damian does know is this: Batman was in Moscow, investigating something big when the entire Bat clan and several of their associates’ identities were unveiled by investigative reporter Hans Zuthenlifer. Including Timothy Drake, Jason Todd, Richard Grayson, Luke Fox, Selina Kyle, Kate Kayne, Damian Wayne, and Bruce Wayne. The purge happened in the next twelve hours, almost before anyone could fully comprehend what happened. Assassinations, and disappearances of nearly all the exposed members. The worst part, the leak was reported to have come from none other than the Lernaean Cohort, Damian’s own team.
Before he died Batman managed to initiate Protocol Knightfall, destroying most of the assets and computer records that contained any information on other members of the Justice League, and the Bat Clan, while also detonating the Batcave before government agents or notorious villains could infiltrate Wayne manor. Meanwhile Damian confronted his team in their headquarters, demanding an explanation for this betrayal, and was met with a fight that nearly cost him his life and freedom. Robin only just managed to escape, hiding within Gotham struggling to piece together whatever remained of his father’s mission. Determined find out why this was happening Damian tracked Hans Zuthenlifer to a warehouse in downtown Gotham, but the “reporter” proved to be more of a challenge than Damian expected. In the end Hans perished, Damian’s sword thrust through his heart, as Gordon and his police moved in.
Now on the run from the law, from the remainder of the Bat clan, and from the League of Assassins Damian must use all his talents and skills and knowledge to avenge his father and clear his name. He never got the chance to reconcile with Bruce, a torture that set its roots deep in Damian’s mind, but he will persist. Alone if he has to, but he may learn that allies are necessary to wage a war, and friends are required to recover from grief, because no man is an island. Whether he discovers these truths or not he has to set things right, and if anyone could manage, it would be Damian Wayne!
Sample Post:
Tracking the German, child’s play.
Distant sirens grew ever closer, their eerie wailing cutting through the spring rain that drenched hunter and prey alike to the bone. Evening shadows lengthened as the pursuit continued, the German gasping for air in his attempt to elude the persistent shade, that stalked across Gotham’s rooftops. Slipping from alley to gutter, creeping like the ever-growing sense of fear that clung to everything. The fear of the unknown. The fear of death and despair. The German ran faster, his legs pumping in adrenaline fueled desperation. He tore at his jacket, flinging the clogging fabric into a waterlogged drain, his white undershirt clinging to his pale flesh. His wide eyes displaying the panic that kept him going, far longer than he normally could have managed. The tiniest buzz filled his ears, the sound of blades cutting air. The German threw himself forward, painful scrapes spreading blood on the wet concrete from the force of his dive, even as a small red shuriken buried itself into the ground, passing mere inches over his blonde head. The keen edge glimmered in the dim light of streetlamps, almost beautiful, yet terrifyingly so. What metal could slice through stone so easily, lodging itself into asphalt as if it were soft wood. And the arm to have thrown it? The German whimpered, scrambling to his feet he shot onwards dodging and ducking at random intervals incase the stalker attempted another throw.
Almost there, nearly free. The German sprinted the final stretch, panting like a dog he pushed open an unsecured door of an abandoned ACME warehouse disappearing within its black recesses leaving a tiny smear of blood upon the door. Outside a cowled figured dropped from above, landing lighter than a cat upon the rain-soaked pavement. Batman paused in his pursuit, examining the projectile he had thrown a moment before. Green gloved fingers pulled the thrown blade free of its stone sheath fitting it back amongst the others. The average person did not simply dodge his shuriken, the cowled man mused. A maneuver like that would take practice, training that one did not expect from the average journalist. Concerning, perhaps, but he had faced far greater foes, he need not fear an unarmed man who had good ears, and quick reflexes. Besides, even if the greatest warrior alive waited behind that door Damian would still enter. The blood of his father, the blood of his brothers and kin were on that man’s hands. Batman wrapped his fingers around his sword’s hilt, drawing forth the blade in one fluid motion. Blood must be paid in blood.
Grayson would have said to wait, to approach from an unexpected angle, to garner the advantage of surprise eve if not needed. Drake would be methodical, cutting the building’s lights, stalking his prey until he made a mistake. Bruce would have gone through the window, throwing down a covering layer of smoke on the chance his foe had hidden a gun, or weapon and was attempting an ambush on his own turf. Damian did none of these things. He stepped inside, sword hanging loosely in his grip. Outside the police sirens grew louder, and destiny drew ever nearer.
“Hello, Damian Wayne.” A slight German accent hung to the man’s words, otherwise his English remained perfect.
“Hans Zuthenlifer.” The silence stretched between them, and Hans did not move. He stood idly amidst a small circle of light in the middle of the warehouse empty floor, all signs of panic and exhaustion were gone. Replaced by an air of satisfaction, of a man who had done his job, and done it well. He seemed to be waiting for something, listening for the right moment.
Batman strode closer until he stood as well in the light, the tip of his sword scraping along the stone beside him, leaving a tiny scar upon its surface. What would he do? Damian did not even know himself, all he could think about was that smug look on the German’s face. The way he seemed so satisfied in himself. “You killed them, don’t try to deny it.”
“I have committed no crimes. Cut no throats, enacted no plots or otherwise.” Hans rebutted, infuriatingly collected. He approached Batman unconcerned by the naked blade, his blue eyes piercing through the cowl and straight into Damian’s soul. “I told only the truth, the truth that needed telling.”
“Who betrayed our secret?” Damian raged, quick as a snake he flicked his sword out, pressing the edge against Hans’ throat, hard enough to produce a pinprick of blood. He had honed it for hours, listening to the reports on the news again and again. Gone, missing, dead. So many of his family, the only ones who remained, who had ever tolerated his presence, people who would never come back. The German did not resist, looking down at the gloved hand that clutched his shirt, pulling him closer towards certain death. The older man clucked his tongue in disdain, like a wearied parent once again correcting a wayward child.
“Do you not recall? You did of course? Or at least, that is what they will think. After all, every mission has its contingencies. If one should fail, another will simply take its place.”
Beneath the cowl Damian’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Pulling the blade away he struck Hans across the face with the hilt, sending the older man to the ground in a splatter of blood. “Lies!” Damian kicked the cringing fool, once, twice, and again until his grunts of pain turned into wheezing coughs. “I have never met or spoken to you before in my life. How could I have been the traitor? Are you an idiot or do you just enjoy the pain?” He rolled the moaning German over until he lay on his back, blood running from his crack lips and broken nose. “Tell me the truth, or I swear to God I’ll kill you. Who. Betrayed. Us?”
A chilling laugh erupted from the beaten man. He reached out and grasped the hanging blade, his bare hand tightening around the battle-scarred edge until his palm ran red. “You are not your father, are you Damian? Not nearly as quick. Did you not hear me? For I have already told you the only answer that matters, you did the deed. You will come to learn that results matter far more than accuracy. Now we have wasted our time enough. The hour is upon us, and they have arrived.” Faster than Batman would have thought possible the German kicked out, striking the cowled vigilante at the knee. Fluid and swift he delivered a series of complicated blows sending the younger man sprawling, taken off guard by the ferocity and skill the German possessed. Batman floundered for only a second, rolling away from the punishment and springing to his feet. The German stilled held his sword by the blade, clutching the weapon before him in both hands, and wild light in his bright eyes. Hurtling forward Batman reached for the hilt, ready to wrench his weapon back, but the German made no attempt to resist him. He smiled as the force of Batman’s lunge slid the slender steel between his ribs and into his heart. Perfectly preformed, and executed to the precise detail, even still the pain could not be ignored. He gasped, his body quivering as his heart struggled to continue even as vital arteries bled internally. The surprise on Batman’s face told it all, Hans smiled.
“They failed in their mission, but I do not fail in mine.” He rasped, as the darkness closed around him. The warehouse door burst open, men in black and blue uniforms spilling through the doorway firearms at the ready. Their shouts and commands fell upon deaf ears. Batman stared down at Hans, horrified, or merely shocked Hans could not say. His senses were dulling he realized, he was dying. Leaning forward Hans whispered into Damian’s ear his final words. “Hail Hydra.”
He died… Batman slid his sword free of the dead man’s chest, a sickening squelch echoing throughout the quiet of the warehouse, even the policemen were silent. Blood pooled at the vigilante’s feet, its sweet scent filling his lungs. The pounding of his heart beat a steady tattoo in his ears, a tune which only Damian could hear. “Murderer, murderer, murderer!” No! Damian clenched his hands into fists, it was an accident. I did not betray father’s memory, it could not be helped, nothing could be done. Hans had practically committed suicide. Only the burning question remained. How could the German have known so much?
“Drop the sword Batman!” The sharp order cut Batman off from his internal debate. James Gordon, the old greybeard commissioner fixed his sights upon the black cowl. A damn shame, he had practically watched this boy grow up, catching glimpses of him getting stronger and smarter by the day. Every time he would drop from the shadows at Batman’s side, upon the stationhouse roof. James had always taken special care to double check Batman’s young partners, to ensure their health and wellbeing. His own personal beliefs against the practice aside Robin had always been a boon to Batman, and a credit to the city. Bitter regret filled James Gordon to his core. He had tried his best to protect Batman and his proteges for so long, only to fail here in Batman’s final hours. When everything was falling apart. “Why’d you have to do it son? Is this what your father would have wanted?” The secret was out, everyone who even halfway glanced at the news knew. “Damian Wayne, you are under arrest for murder in the first degree. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney, drop the sword and come quietly… I promise we’ll figure something out.”
“No.” The sword clattered to the ground, at Batman’s feet, and a few of the policemen twitched. If Batman could be driven to kill, he would be a dangerous man to bring in alive. “I made a mistake, I facilitated this, I should have followed Batm- my father’s wishes and not used a sword.” Damian stared down at his hands; the gloves stained red by Hans’ blood. “But I did not murder him, I have not yet been driven to do such a thing. However he is responsible for Bruce Wayne’s death, and Drake’s, and Grayson’s and he intended it. He deserved to die, whether at my hand or the law’s, but I did not take his life.”
A flutter of hope Gordon realized, his grey mustache twitching in approval. “You have evidence?”
“I need time.” Batman promised, his eyes darting across the room. Ten rifles were trained on him, and nearly that many pistols. Far too many to fight, and if they opened fire even he could not throw down smoke cover in time. The armor plating in his vest might catch a few, but his head, arms, and legs were vulnerable. He just needed the slightest distraction; his green eyes scanned his surroundings before fixating on the old fire suppression pipes overhead. An alarm activated system. He spotted the lever nearby and began moving, careful in concealing his purpose, every step shadowed by nearly two dozen ready barrels.
Letting out a frustrated sigh Gordon lowered his pistol, the old Colt forty felt heavier in his aging hands than it ever had before. “You know I can’t accept that, even in your unique circumstance. I understand why you did it son, but no one is above the law. Not even Batman. Now stop where you are and make this easy on all of us. Let our processes determine your innocence or guilt, and for Hans likewise.”
Batman froze, his chin thrust forward in his trademarked sneer, as his hand rose gradually into the air in feigned surrender. “When has the law ever applied to me or my father? How much have we done for this ungrateful city? His quest to rid it of crime was lofty, but he has saved countless lives. I saved countless lives and we did it around the law. Around you.”
“Don’t make me do it.” Gordon warned, the tightness in his voice like an old dog’s growl ready to spring into one last fight.
“Well, I have work to do, and if you won’t get onboard and help, I’ll continue to do it around the law, and around you. Stay out of my way Gordon.” His piece said Batman smashed through the thin glass protecting the lever and activated the fire suppression. The majority of the policemen flinched at the first drops of cold water blinded them for the briefest of moments. A volley of smoke pellets were already in air bursting all around the disoriented officers. Unfazed Gordon sighted and fired, the bullet striking squarely in the center of the Dark Knight’s chest as he disappeared into the cloud. Gone before the casing hit the floor.
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