Chapter Text
Damian looked on from the rooftops as emergency personal scattered across the devastated street below. The road had caved in on itself, leaving a crater in the center. He watched as firemen and police officers tripped over each other in a vain attempt to contain the wreckage. Damian frowned. They were just wasting their time. The truth has already come to the light. His youngest brother ensured that. Apparently, his partner thought the same. “Why are they still around,” Terrance or “Terry” sounded from over Damian’s shoulder, “Isn’t the big secret already out of the bag?” The other man was draped leisurely along the width of Damian’s shoulders as Damian crouched in front. “You can’t have a bigger secret than a Superman clone, ya know,” he said with a shrug.
Damian tsked after Terry spoke. “That’s why we’re here, brother,” he spoke, “To find out.” He nudged his shoulder slightly, signaling for his brother to move. Terry instantly took the signal and stood at attention. Damian was on the move, then that meant that the other saw an opening. They leapt from the roof and dipped into the night.
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The two touched down, the red floor of the destroyed CADMAS facility surprisingly gooey under their feet. “Dame, what the hell is this stuff,” Terry whispered. He lifted his foot and a sticky red substance came with. It attached to his boots, staining his soles red. “It’s like blood or something,” he spoke as he pressed his finger onto his soles. His gloves came away moist. “Gross,” he mumbled as he shook his hand, “You don’t think it’s Dickie’s, do you?”
“Concentrate,” Damian snapped, but his mind ran. Despite his demeanor, he was worry about Dick as well. Bruce said that Dick’s unapproved mission was a success, but Damian came home with enough broken bones after a successful mission to know how little injuries mattered to Bruce when determining success. Terry has too. Damian sighed quietly, letting the worry roll off his shoulders. Though he was upset, it didn’t pay to let it show now. So instead he donned his tough persona. “We didn’t train a weakling,” he said sharply as he rolled his masked eyes. “And I’ve been telling you for years,” he continued as he peeked into an useless room, “Codenames on the field, Nightwing!”
“I guess you’re right there,” Terry conceded, “Nightingale.” He tugged on the darkened red stripe that ran the length of his arms and chest. “But you gotta admit,” he said as he poked at his sole once more, “You are kinda worried.”
Damian gave him a hard glaring before deflating. “You’re right,” he finally agreed, “It is pretty worrying.” Terry gave him a teasing smile for his confession. The elder knew how much Damian couldn’t stand expressing himself. This was doubly true during a mission. He felt that he got one over on Damian and the satisfaction showed on his smugly pulled back lips.
Damian growled at Terrance’s amused smile, nibbling his inner-lip to stop himself from smiling in return. They didn’t come here to have fun, and they were worried for their little brother’s wellbeing, yet it was hard to remind Damian of this when he was with his brother. The man had a way of turning anything into a friendly competition… or a fight. “Just hurry up,” Damian spoke once his own amusement finally calmed down, “I’m sure father didn’t send us here for our entertainment.”
“You can say that again,” Terry mumbled, “Looks like the kids had all the fun without us”. He fingered a cracked wall, watching the dent with curious eyes. “Who would’ve thought that Birdie could cause this much ruckus,” he asked. He pulled away from the wall and thick chips of plaster followed him. “Then again,” Terry continued, “There was the time he nearly ripped the chandelier from the ceiling during his tenth birthday.”
Damian gave an amused chuckle as he walked pass, eyeing empty meaningless rooms fruitlessly for clues. “Not to mention the time he nearly broke Blue Jay’s nose while practicing their team maneuvers,” he added. He heard his brother give a loud laugh, before he come to a sudden stop. He let his smile fall from his face – he had a feeling that he just found what they’ve been searching for.
Damian eyed the hole in the wall he paused for, he was sure a door once was there. The remainder of the door-seal was bent at an odd angle, finger shaped dents around the center. The door was ripped open and the person was incredibly strong. “The alien’s clone must have done this,” he thought aloud. He wondered where the door led to when Terry came behind him, dangling a decrepit label that read “Kr” in his lazed grip. “This must have been his cage,” Damian deduced.
“Must have been,” Terry agreed. The man paused after he spoke and Damian was sure that Terry saw the handprints too. The elder gave a sigh once he saw them, before running his sharp-fingered gauntlets into his onyx hair. Damian was reminded of the earlier years, when that habit once cost Terry a few locks of his hair and a few weeks in a hat. “I wish Batman had told us more,” Terry growled. He let his fingers run across the finger indents as he passed into the room. “We don’t even know if Robin and his friends are okay,” he complained. He scoped the room as he entered, his eyes angry but alert. There was a crater that dug deep into the ceiling, glass that littered the floor. Maroon splotches were spotted much more frequently than Terry had wanted. He was livid now. “We’ve been doing this for years,” Terry snapped, “And he still doesn’t trust us enough to tell us if Robin’s in one piece.”
Damian tsked, though he didn’t know if it was because he was in agreement or not. He knew how Terry felt. He understood how trapped he felt. They were kept in the dark, always away from everything and everyone. The very Superman that they were scavenging the place for didn’t even know of their existence. Bruce was all they had as an accomplice in the superhero world. It hurt when their only connection liked kept things from them. Even more so, it hurt when their father, the man that they both admired and aimed to please, kept things from them. Yet he also understood his father.
What Terry couldn’t understand was that it wasn’t them that their father distrusted. He distrusted the world around them. Damian could understand the notion of keeping things away for other’s protection. He’s done it. He kept Terry away from The League of Shadows for years. He held back his bloodlust, not only to please his father but to be seen as someone great by his brother. Damian understood.
He eyed his irritated brother, his balled fists and hurt expression. “Don’t get so wrapped up in it,” Damian eventually said. Damian had much more to say about it, and he knew that Terry could tell, but he will save it for later. Emotions such as these were best dealt with at home, with mugs filled with tea and bowls filled with vegan goulash. “Those things are irrelevant to the task at hand,” Damian said softly. He placed a hand on Terry’s shoulder, the gold of his fingerless gloves shocking against Terry’s red stripe. The touch gave the comfort that Damian hoped it would. He could feel Terry’s tense shoulder loosen under his fingers. “Let’s focus for now,” Damian ordered. He then squeezed his brother’s shoulder, and when Terry turned to face him, he gave the other a devious smirk. “We’ll handle our frustration with father later on patrol,” he said mischievously. Terry softly laughed and Damian was surprisingly happy to hear it. “For now I’ll examine the tubes,” Damian said, “You do… something with the computer.”
“Seriously,” Terry laughed, “ ‘Do something with the computer’?” He plugged in the thumb-drive that Tim gave him and typed in the codes that Tim and Max hammered into his head whenever he could bring himself to listen. “How do people believe that you’re the smarter one out of the two of us,” Terry teased. While he spoke, the super computer sprung to life. The hero couldn’t help but chuckle when little caricatures of his baby brother filled the screen. So Dickie hacked the place first. Good thing Tim gave him the drive. He paused for a moment, looking up from the screen to see Damian’s irritated expression. God, he loved fucking with him “I-“ he began before the words were locked in his throat. While he was teasing Damian, he crack the database wide open. The files for “Project Krypton” were pulled up and next to it was the files for “Project Batman Beyond”. “Nightingale,” Terry called for his brother as he clicked the folder, “You might wanna see…” His voice fell to silence.
“What,” Damian asked as he draped himself over his brother’s shoulder, placing his palm on the desk, “You better not have disturbed me for nothing.” When he was met with silence, Damian finally looked over his brother. The man was rod straight. His Adam’s Apple bobbed uncontrollably. Damian frowned. Terry was stopping himself from crying. “Nightwing,” Damian spoke, “Terry?” When he again got no response he finally glanced over Terry’s shoulder. He could feel his eyes widen as he read. “Project Batman Beyond,” he mouthed, “Clone of Bruce Wayne, Warren McGinnis willing participation, clone fully assimilated?”
Damian was awed. His brother’s entire life was spread out before them. Baby pictures of Terry that Damian never had the pleasure of seeing covered parts the screen. They were followed by gruesome photos of his deceased parents, the words “Mission Accomplished plastered in bright red across their bleeding bodies. Then the various mug shots Terry took during his difficult childhood. The papers that allowed Bruce’s to have full guardianship of Terry was next, then the press conference where Terry was first introduced to the public. It finished with Terry’s first night as Nightwing, a perfect photo of the then sixteen-year-old as he grappled across Gotham’s night sky.
Damian stared on with his mouth open as he watched. “What is this,” Damian demanded, “Who would dare?” He could feel the rage bubble within him, but stopped when he felt his big brother tense and shiver where Damian’s chest touched his shoulders. “Terry?”
“I’m like him,” Terry whispered to the screen, “I’m a clone.”