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A night. Damian would have just wanted to enjoy a night with his family at the stupid Hamilton County Fair. Would that have been so much to ask? Instead, like the worst B-movies and the worst cliche they could have ever come up with, the bunch of balaclava-wearing idiots had stormed the festively set up area, scaring away patrons, ordinary tourists, and farmers who had entered the contests for the biggest produce, best flowers, or toughest cattle.
To be honest with himself, Damian wouldn't have wanted to go. But Jon had been so insistent, telling him that it reminded him of the old days when he used to visit the fair with his parents, that Damian had finally surrended with a long sigh and told him that maybe they would go, emphasizing mostly on the maybe. As it turned out, though, Jon had only understood what it had suited him to understand; so, after popping a kiss on Damian's lips with a smile, he had run upstairs to found his old Hamilton School hat to shove it on Tommy's head, who had enjoyed it and had returned his father's smile.
Sparkling like never before, they had literally dragged Damian to the van that night, and Jon had done nothing but assure him that he would have a good time, though he had promised him that they would run straight home if an emergency arose. Damian hadn't been so convinced, though, since the whole town would be at the fair, and unless the animals in the contests got sick - at which point he could at least get to work right away - he could consider it his night off.
Involved by Jon's cheerfulness, and Tommy's amused laughter as he asked what would be at the fair and if he could eat mountains of cotton candy - no, Damian had categorically stated that they would only take one cloud for everyone, since he didn't want an overloaded seven-year-old around -, Damian had finally sighed and smiled in turn. A night with the family was what he preferred, after all.
It had still been nice to be there, he had admitted. The sweet smell of cotton candy had mingled with the fragrant, greasy, fried smell of corn dogs, roasted peanuts and butter sandwiches, as well as popcorn and the multitude of local foods that Damian had learned - in part - to appreciate over the years. He was also quite amazed to see that the fair featured a large Ferris wheel and roller coaster, as well as a variety of other attractions to entertain children and adults alike: skeet shooting, shooting range, ring toss... and Tommy had wanted to try literally everything.
Damian himself had stopped to watch the dog parade and glance at the local art competition - he hadn't expected that, if he had to be honest with himself - which had featured painting, sculpture and even crafts. It had been a fun evening, and he had also challenged Jon to a ring toss with Tommy's cheering in his ears; they had started a competition just as they would have done as kids, yelling at each other and bickering under his son's amused gaze and laughter. But it was at that point that everything had been ruined by seven idiots who had well thought of robbing a fucking fair.
He and Jon had been quick enough to literally throw Tommy over the ring toss counter to keep him safe, intimating that he should stay down before Damian threw over the side to avoid the bullets that those fools had started firing wildly; he and Jon had glanced at each other, their hearts pounding in their chests as one of the bullets had whistled all too close to Jon's ear. The shouts of joy and laughter had been replaced by frightened screams and the patter of people running everywhere trying to escape, though unfortunately some of them had been wounded by the stray bullets.
Damian had gritted his teeth and cursed, cracking his knuckles as he took cover in a corner from that new barrage of bullets. The men were laughing and intimating people to hand them money and jewelry or stuff it into a bag, in a poor imitation of a bank robbery. And still they were doing it, with bags full and people crying in terror.
«Dad!»
Thomas leaned over the edge of the counter for a moment, and Damian hurriedly turned to give him a nod, a panicked motion at the new bullet whistle he heard hitting the wood of the corner he was standing around.
«Don't move from there and stay down, Tommy!» he intimated, casting a glance at Jon; that look was enough to make his intentions clear, so Jon gave a quick nod and tapped the hot dog cart to avoid a new bullet, pulling the hatch off to use as a shield.
Damian crouched down as far as he could to crawl toward the shooting counter, feeling the pebbles of the ground rub against his bare knee and creep into his skin; he ignored the sensation, reaching a hand over the edge of the counter to detach one of the air rifles and knot the tube so he could use it against those idiots. Before he could even point it at one of them, though, a gun handle hit him in the head, knocking him out for a second.
«What do you think to do, cripple?»
«D!»
Jon's voice seemed to ring in his ears, but he shook his head quickly to try and come to his senses; he had just enough time to look in his direction for a moment before he saw him punch one of the men who had approached him in the face, using that steel door to deflect the bullet that was fired at him. As much as they had been retired for more than eight years, they kept themselves in training enough to be able to deal with a situation like this... but he had no intention to risk his own life or the lives of Jon and Thomas and the people he had come to appreciate there in Hamilton.
«Besides being crippled, are you also deaf?» the man was saying, and it was only at that moment that Damian realized he had spoken. «Put all your money in the bag. Now!»
Damian ran his gaze over the man for just a moment, checking him from head to toe for weaknesses. If there was one thing the League had taught him, it was how to study his opponent's body and movements; so, raising both hands in surrender as he let go of his rifle, he stood up. «Okay... but don't hurt me,» he hinted, using his best acting skills to sound as convincing as possible, and the man believed it.
He waved the bag in front of him and Damian slipped his right hand into the pocket of his shorts to pull out his wallet, but at the same moment that the man opened that bag, Damian didn't hesitate to kick him in the pit of the stomach, using the power of his prosthesis; he saw him opened wide his eyes, without expected it, and he slumped down breathlessly, loosening his grip on his gun and the bag full of money.
Damian threw himself at another man and landed a well-aimed punch to his septum, ducking down just a moment before a gunshot hit him in the head, whistling on his hair; it was close and he felt his adrenaline pumping, too focused on those opponents to see what was going on around him. He just hoped that Jon was doing as well as he was as the screams of the people echoed in his ears, hearing someone hit him in the back with a steel pipe; he screamed in pain, turning around furiously the same instant that object hit his prosthesis heavily, bending it at an impossible angle.
Damian opened wide his eyes as he fell backwards onto the ground, his now unusable prosthesis not allowing him to stand, and as he lifted his gaze, he saw the man towering over him with his bulk and gun pointed at his forehead.
«Your last words?» the man sentenced with his finger on the trigger. And if for a moment Damian thought he was a goner, a sardonic smile was drawn on his lips moments later.
«Watch your head,» he hinted, seeing the man blink uncomprehendingly. On the verge of firing, he was soon hit in the back of the head with the agricultural contest hard billboard, collapsing at Damian's feet with his eyes out of his head. Jon's figure loomed up in front of him, and soon Tommy appeared as well, shivering and with big tears bathing his eyes and cheeks. He hadn't stopped pulling up with his nose, and literally threw himself into Damian's arms, crying, as Jon knelt beside him.
«Damn, are you okay?!» he asked agitatedly, running his gaze over him as if he was still able to assess damage not visible to the naked eye.
Weaving the fingers of his right hand through Thomas's hair, and holding him close against him, Damian nodded. «I'm fine... it was just my prosthesis,» he hinted, kissing his son's head while whispering a few words of reassurance in Arabic; he felt him cling to him more tightly and sobbing, mumbling who knows what with his heart beating fast in his chest. It was at that point that Jon bent down, wrapping an arm around his back to embrace both him and his son.
«You had scared us,» Jon whispered, and Damian heard the crack in his voice very well. But he certainly couldn't blame him. He himself had been afraid for them, for himself. Luckily, Hamilton was supposed to be a quiet place.
Damian wanted to say something, but the sound of that applause was so unexpected that for a moment he stunned. His eyes opened wide, he lifted his gaze only to see friends, neighbors, and acquaintances clapping their hands toward them and thanking them for rescuing them, cheering them on as those men were taken away.
«My dads are heroes.»
Pulling one last time up with his nose, Tommy smiled with the simplicity of a seven-year-old, but as they cast a quick glance at each other, Damian and Jon almost didn't know how to deal with all the attention. Jon almost blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, while Damian was sure he was dizzy. Nonetheless, he smiled.
As much as they no longer wore capes and masks, there was always a way to help those in need. And they had proven it.