Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The group back at the port mafia where never going to let him live this down, actually, everyone who’s ever heard of his name would let him live this down.

The feared Chuuya Nakahara, was defeated by a goddamn 13-year-old. What was this? Harry Potter on crack?

That was the last time he’d ever do a favor for someone else: damn debt collector and shitty clients who can’t pay back their money. Who the fuck takes out a 2 million loan without any way to pay it back and why the fuck did they give him the 2 million.

Now he’s the bad guy and some 13-year-old girl with the biggest gap known to humanity randomly rushes at him and everything goes black.

Now here he was, some crying baby beside him, and what appeared to be a room full of weirdos in green robes bowing down to them. He couldn’t move his damn body and no noise would come out of his mouth.

Life sucked ass

Watching those around him, he looks out the corner of his eyes as he watches the annoyance beside him be picked up by some brown-skinned women. “This one shall be named Damian al-Ghoul, he will grow to be the demon head and ruler of the world,”

Rolling his eyes as best as his new body would let him Chuuya couldn’t help but sigh(coo) out loud. The delusions are high with this woman. Does she know how much it takes to rule the whole world? The manpower and money that shit would take? Hell, not even money would work if that blonde American's failure was anything to go by.

Not like it was going to be his problem though, he wasn’t the one they were calling the ruler thank fuck.

Placing the baby back down after the robed group of people shouting clears out the woman puts down the baby gently and goes to grab the other, quieter one. “And this one shall be called Bruce,” speaks the woman quietly and more subdued.

Are you sure about that dear,” speaks up a judgemental voice to the right of Chuuya.

Closing her eyes the woman turns around to face the voice. “I am certain Father, I believe Bruce shall live up well to the name he has been given. “

Closing the distance between them the older male looks down at the baby. “I do admit, he resembles the man somewhat. Fine name him whatever you want, as long as his loyalties don’t sway as his fathers did,”
Great. He was related to these people now, Today was not his day whatsoever.

Watching as the man walked out of the room the woman clutches the baby in her hands closer to her. “Don’t worry my beloved, I see great things in your future, my little warrior,”

Looking up at the woman now dubbed “Taila” Chuuya looked back at the robbed people who were still kneeling and the candles everywhere. This was a fucking cult, wasn’t it?

The fucking robbed people, the candles everywhere, and the obvious summoning circle in the goddamn middle of the floor. Was that real blood? Why was there a bunch of severed heads organized in the back- again, not his problem.

Also, he refused to answer to Bruce of all things. What a shit-ass name that was. Sounded like something you named a goldfish that was scheduled to die in 4 days. Fuck the cult, the first order of business was changing that fucking name, the second order was getting some wine. He was probably going to need some soon.

On the bright side, he didn't have to worry about anyone he knew laughing at him. If he was lucky they’d all be elders by the time it took for him to grow up again.
—----------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so he was wrong about the whole cult part. It definitely falls under the cult umbrella but he didn’t think most cult kids got knifes thrust into their tiny fingers at the ripe age of 8 months old.

Shit, the other kid could barely even walk yet. What the hell did they need a knife for? Looking at the brat he could see the kid starting to put the end piece in his mouth. Well, at least he didn’t put the sharp part in his mouth.

Looking at the knife in his hand that his new mother, Talia, had given him. She gently grabs his and his twin brother's hand and guides them toward a table. On the table are two cages with what appear to be pythons in both of them. One obviously being bigger than the other.

Their grandfather was standing near the cages eyeing both kids with a blank stare. Beside him were people who Chuuya had never seen before.

“Starting today, both of your training begins,” yells their grandfather as the men beside him move to bring both kids a cage. “Your job is to kill these Pythons with the knives that were handed to you,”

With that, every person in the room starts to watch the reaction of the two boys in the room.

First of all, why did they give him the bigger snake, and who expects two 8 months to kill a python without any training?

Turning to look at his drooling brother who was still chewing on the end of his knife. No way in hell this idiot was going to know how to kill a snake on instinct. At that moment, Chuuya knew it was on him to get them through this mess, and no, Chuuya did not give a damn about the idiot who was now his brother. Just that if the loser died then it was up to him to take over this shitty organization.

And that would be a terrible idea. Cause as soon as he hit the age of 10 he was out of this bitch. If they were lucky he’d visit every year or so. Maybe bring back a souvenir- anyway!

Their survival was all on him and he refused to die to a goddamn snake in this new life he got.

Deciding to himself that he was in charge the ginger-haired toddler starts to wobble towards the cage with the 45 inches long snake. Looking back towards the other boy he motions towards him to get his attention. If he was going to take one for the team then the waste of space had better pay attention.

Seeing that the kid was looking at him, he braved forward and grimaced as he look at the snake who looked at him as if he was their 5 o’ clock dinner.

Hearing chuckling he looks up to see his grandfather smirking at him. “It looks like this is the smart one,” he mocks as if this is all one big joke.

“Maybe Burce was a fitting name for him,”

“Bbgfuk uyiww( fuck you),” he spits out as he goes back to staring at the snake. Well, might as well get this shit over with.

Talia grabs Damian’s hand as she and everyone else back up to allow Bruce room. One of the men opens the cage and expertly grabs the python and sets it down near Chuuya.

Quickly letting go of the snake the man backs away and regains his spot behind his grandfather.

The snake starts to slither toward him like a predator hunting their prey, Which to be fair, with how it was looking the snake had the right idea.

As if impatient the snake lunges for the ginger. With all the grace of an 8 month, the boy tries to move out of the way. Well, tried too.

Looking towards his mom as the snack begins to wrap itself around him. It hits him that absolutely fucking no one is trying to help him. Talia is holding back the brat and out of the corner of his eye, he can see that old geezer looking disappointingly at him. Like it’s Chuuya’s fault his stupid 8-month body couldn't fight off a 45-inch Python with his bare hands. Also, where did that damn knife go?

Looking around with the little view he had he could see the knife given at the feet of his grandfather. Who is very far away from him. Great.

This was looking like a fat gg the way Chuuya saw it. Maybe third luck would be the charm. Besides, he didn't even like anyone in this room. Fuck all of them. Fuck the bitch with the ugly clipped ends that was his mother, fuck the wrinkly dusty bastard that was his grandfather, and lastly fuck the brat who was STILL CHEWING ON THAT KNIFE WHILE HIS BROTHER WAS DYING!!

With what feels like hours the people in the room stand there and watch as the life slowly gets sucked from the ginger.

“I guess the name Bruce wasn’t fitting for the little one, wouldn’t you agree Talia,” speaks the man as he dully watches the child die.

“The fight is not over yet Father, I remember someone telling me the battle is never over until the final breath is taken.

Chuckling the man smirks to himself. “I do recall saying such words,”

Fuck, now their making small talk while he gets his shit rocked by a legless reptile. Also, who the fuck was this bastard calling Little? Chuuya was way taller than that asshole when he was an adult. Only 22 at that!

He’d show him what happens when you mess with a mafia executive. Moving his arm as best as he could the toddler grabbed at the flesh of the python. He had never tried to use his ability yet in this world, he didn’t even know if he could but this was an all-or-nothing situation.

Please please please let this work. Arahabaki if you are there I’ll give you all the doggy bacon bits you want.

“Well, I assume it’s over now,” speaks up the head as he slowly walks towards the snake and the child it has killed. “Pity, with the name given to him I held high hopes for this one-”

Before finishing the sentence he’s stopped by a random object knocking him in the face, sending him flying backward and landing on his back.

With that, the entire room goes into a frenzy. Everyone takes out their weapons as they rush to their master's side. Some of them standing in their spots, feverishly looking around the room for intruders.

Standing up from the spot he was currently stuck in Chuuya laps up all the oxygen he could inhale. Looks like life hasn’t given up on him yet.

“Who dares to attack the demon head!” shouts out one of the men who previously stood beside his grandfather's side. The fucker was next after he was done with the man on the floor.

“It’s the python-how did it get there,” shouts his mother as she rushes up to Chuuya.

So now the bitch cared about him. Wow, would have been great if she did something 3 minutes ago. However, now wasn’t the time. He had a man to kill.

Slowly getting up the ginger toddler wobbles away from his mother and makes his way towards the group of men surrounding his grandfather. He’d show that fucker who was little!

Grabbing the snake by the end of its tale he uses his ability to make it light as he lifts it up and slams it down on his deadbeat grandfather. To gain some motion he starts whipping it some more beside the fallen elder to test out his strength.

Using too much strength the toddler smashes the python to the ground. Creating a small crater in the ground. With blood and guts going everywhere, the ginger sheepishly chuckles as he drops the end of the snake. Nothing he could do with that anymore. That's fine, cause there’s another snake.

Heading towards the direction of the other snake the boy is stopped as he feels one of the underlings grab him and hold him in the air.

Kicking his feet the boy tries to get out of the man's hold but finds himself unable to. Going limp in the adult's arm Chuuya turns his head to look for his brother.

Finally finding his brother….who is still chewing on that damn knife. Ok, so the kid might be a lost cause but that's fine. He can just beat the fucker into shape later.

Holding up his right arm he gives a thumb up in his brother's direction.

“Uuu awe nesst brat( your next brat),”

His brother finally drops the cursed knife and starts giggling at him.

On the ground, Ra's feels an uncontrollable shudder piece his body. As if it’s anticipating the oncoming pain coming its way.

Chapter Text

At first, Chuuya hated everything about the stupid cult. Everything about the place sucked ass. Being forced to train in martial arts from sun up to sun down for the first 3 years of this new life was hell. Dealing with a snot-nosed brat who tried to compete with him in everything made it even more unbearable.

And don’t even get him started about all the stupid tutors their mother forced on them. Why the hell did they need a tutor to teach them about the different types of rocks on the planet? What loser needed to know that? Why was that Damian's favorite class? He didn’t know and he refused to lose sleep over it.

“Brother, you haven’t finished your fractions. Mother will be upset,” lectured his older brother.

Rolling his eyes the gingered boy looked down at his bare worksheet. The two 5-year-olds were currently learning their fractions and had been assigned a worksheet by their tutor who was currently standing behind them. Great.

Grabbing his pencil the boy wrote his name at the top. “There, I did something,” dropping the pencil the toddler goes back to sulking.

“Tch, mother and grandfather will be most disappointed with your lack of skill Bruce,” mocked his fellow 5-year-old.

Sighing to himself the blue-eyed boy looks up to the ceiling as if begging the gods above to give him the power to deal with the fool beside him. “Stop beating around the bush! What do you want in exchange.”

“As you’ve heard, Mother shall be assigning us our first mission tonight!”

“Get to the fucking point”

Pouting the boy makes to grab the forgotten worksheet. “In exchange for me to help you…. I’ll be in charge of our missio-”

“Deal,”

Blinking, the older boy stares at his brother. “I didn’t finish,”

“I don’t care, Damian. You can be the leader.” groans Chuuya as he passes his pencil to his brother. “Don’t forget to change your writing to match mines,”

Rolling his eyes Damian starts writing on the worksheet. “Do you take me for a fool little brother,”

“No,”

Very much actually. This was the 5th time this week that he had gotten Damian to do his work for him, and it was Wednesday. All he had to do was praise Damian a little, call him a great big brother or the rightful demon heir and the kid lit up like a Christmas tree.

Humming to himself, Chuuya closes his eyes as he listens to the sounds of lead touching paper. It reminded him of the days in the port mafia, on the rare days when there was no fighting to be had. He missed those days, surrounded by the black lizards. They had been an annoying bunch but they were comrades.

“I have finished,” spoke Damian as he gets up to hand their papers to their tutor.

Collecting their papers the tutor reviews them as both boys come to stand in front of them.

“Amazing job Master Damian, Master Bruce,” states the tutor. “However, it would be even better if Master Bruce did his own work, no.”

Rolling his eyes for the hundredth time this morning the ginger grabs his brother's hand and walks about the room. “We pay you to kill people, not lecture me about my homework,”

“They pay me to do both actually,”

“Shut up before I get your health care plan taken away,”

—---------------------

Chuuya had been to the States before when he was working for the port mafia.

It had been a year since he had been promoted to executive. He was assigned a negotiation job with a weapons dealer. He was more there for intimidation than to negotiate but he had gotten the job done.

He had remembered how shitty the place was. The stupid people, with the stupid traffic, mixed in with the stupid weather.

And it appeared that dying and being reincarnated hadn’t changed his feelings for the shit of a country. Did it matter that he had only been to one state in the country? No. Was he just going on a rant because his first mission in this new life was in that same state again? Fuck yes.

Sitting inside some chick-fil-a with his brother sitting in front of him, Chuuya dips his chicken nugget into his sauce as he listens to his mother give them a description of their future victim.

“You two are to bring justice to this traitor in the name of the demon head,” says their mother as she passes them both an identical picture of a woman. A pregnant woman.

They were the only ones inside the fast food place, and by the way the employee had personally escorted them to their booth he assumed the place was operating under the league.

“Bruce, are you paying attention,” demands his mother.

Sighing to himself the 5-year-old sits up in his seat. “Yeah yeah, Yara Taleb, a loyal member of the league until ten months ago when she apparently fell in love while on a mission. By the looks of this picture, 4 months pregnant,”

Frowning, his mother is silent for a tense second before she breaks out into a delicate smile. “That is right, your mission is to kill her,” This earned an eager nod from his brother. He had always been a kiss-ass.

“Yes Mother, we shall carry out this mission with our utmost best.” sternly replies Damian as he shoves French fries into his mouth.

Getting up from the booth their mother places a hand on each of their shoulders. “I will be watching your progress during this week, so don’t even think of slacking off,” she warns as she looks directly at Chuuya. Ouch. Damn, not his fault he finds assassinations boring as fuck.

“We will not fail you mother,” reassures his brother.

“We’ll kill this fucker before she even has time to go to her first ultrasound,”

“No, she’s already been to her first ultrasound son, I know, I was pregnant once,”

Rolling his eyes the ginger gets out of his seat and grabs the picture. “It was a figure of speech.” Grabbing his kiddie backpack that was mickey mouse themes for some reason on the table beside him he looks up to his brother. “Are you ready to kill a pregnant woman or what?”

Okay so maybe he was a little miffed about killing a pregnant woman. Yeah, he’s killed hundreds under the rule of the port mafia but never was he tasked to kill a pregnant one. It was hard to believe but Mori had standards to some extent. You never kill a person under 10 and you never kill a pregnant woman.

You could beat the shit out of them, but not smuggle the light out of their eyes. Yeah, he had killed countless people before, countless people that had begged him to spare them. People who had spoken of pregnant wives, kids who would never see their parents again, parents who would never see their child grow. Never had he actually had to witness the consequences of his choices.

He refused to think about Oda or how his entire gaggle of kids got blown up to smithereens. If he thought of Oda then he’d have to think of all the burnt children, which then lead to Dazi, which then led to his betrayal, which then leads to his car getting blown up.

“Mother has supplied us with her current address, all we must do is kill her tonight,” beams his brother as they both walk towards the car that's supposed to be their transportation for this entire mission.

Unlocking the back seat door the ginger throws his mickey mouse and his brother's Minnie mouse themed backpack to the side. Waiting until both are secured in the car, he gives the signal to the driver to take off.

“Stop by the nearest library,” he demands as he turns to look at his brother. “We have an entire week to kill the chick. Besides, we know nothing about her other than the fact she’s pregnant and she lives in a shitty one-story house,”

“Well I’m the leader and I say we kill her before the day ends and be on our way back,” pouts his brother as he crosses his arms.

Chuuya knew he was going to regret letting the kid lead the mission but damn did he not think it was going to be 2 whole minutes into it. This could be worse than the time he let Akutagawa negotiate that one case. Took the cleaners an entire week to clean up all the blood. He’ll never know how the kid managed to get a whole organ stuck to the ceiling, and frankly, he hoped he would never figure it out.

Shuddering to himself the boy looks out the window as the car drives to their destination. It was a sunny Sunday and the traffic wasn’t that bad by the looks of it. Probably because it was morning or because of their location. He didn’t really care.

“Do you know her killing style,” questions Chuuya. He wanted to get the mission over and go home too, but he refused to die because his brother was an idiot.

“Not important,” confidently states his brother. With all the smugness a spoiled 5-year-old could have.

Yeah, they were fucked.

There was only one thing Chuuya could do to change Damian's idiotic plan.

“Have you ever heard of Disney World?”

Blinking like an owl his brother frowns. “What’s a ....Disney World?”

Chapter Text

So they didn’t go to Disney World. Which he guess was fine since they were 5 years old. Not like he wanted to go to Disney World or anything, Totally didn’t remind him of the time he had first come to Florida. The fact he never got to go to Disney World then didn’t piss him off.

Googling on a dusty computer in a small secluded section in the local library, Sipping his organic apple juice box their mom packed he lets out a long sigh. Beside him, Damian is munching on his packed carrots as he looks at Chuuya’s computer.

Typing their targets address into Google he waits as the site loads. Tapping his finger on the marble counter he looks over to his brother who is crunching on his carrots as he writes notes down on a small notebook.

Looking around to make sure no one’s in earshot Chuuya turns to face Damian. “So what’s the plan again,” questions the ginger in a quiet voice. “All I remember is the part where I do all the work,”

Rolling his eyes, his brother pauses his note-taking as he looks around the room. “You're not doing all the work idiot, you're doing the unimportant parts.” retorts Damian as he resumes his note-taking.

Eyeing the librarian walking towards the printer with a stack of printing paper in her hands.

“Unimportant things, right, like breaking into the house, not triggering the alarm, locating everyone, letting you inside, and don’t forget escorting you to the target,” list of Chuuya as he leans back into his chair. “Admit it, I’m doing all the heavy lifting while you get the glory, brat,”

“Tt, you should be happy I’m even letting you participate in my plan,” mutters Damian as he crosses off something on his notes.

“Wow, how lucky am I to be the great future head’s footstool,” deadpans Chuuya as he moves his head to look at his brother. “The guys back at the league are going to be so jealous of me,”

“They’ll sing my praises for months to come,” seriously replies Damian. A smirk forms as he crosses off another sentence on his notepad. “As my sidekick, I guess you deserve to be mentioned slightly. However, don’t let this favor get to your head little one,”

Closing his eye the boy wonders if he can will himself back to Yokohama. Either he’d go back or he could choke the 5-year-old sitting beside him. He was truly fine with both options at the moment.

“Anyway, let's go over the information we currently have,” mutters Chuuya, trying to change the topic before he actually chokes the kid.

Clicking his teeth, his brother hands him the notepad without even looking at him. “Currently married with 3 kids, works as a preschool teacher at a daycare called Apple’s Side, Sickle Cells, currently pregnant with twins,” list off Damian in a bored manner.

The Librarian is now walking their way with a stack of freshly printed papers in her hands. She’s making eye contact with them with a frown on her face.

Nonchalantly deleting everything off of the computer with a calm expression, Chuuya taps his leg. Without a change of emotion, his brother takes the notepad and flips it to the next page. On the page is a half-asses picture of a pink bat.

He brings his left hand over to the mouse where he slowly opens a new tab. Typing at the same pace as before he brings himself to some random kid's game site he remembered Q playing once. He can’t seem to find the exact site but decides that their probably all the same and clicks on the first link he sees.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see that the librarian decided to drop off her stack of papers before she comes their way. He wonders if he's being paranoid and that she probably doesn't care about two 5-year-olds that are currently sitting in the adult section, right beside the adult magazi- no she’s 100% coming their way.

Looking back to the screen he clicks on the first game he sees, something to do with pizza it seems. His brother had done absolutely nothing in this small time frame and currently seemed to be very interested in the website he had picked.

“Why are you putting mushrooms on the pizza, Brother?” questions Damian just as the librarian comes up behind them.

Gently placing her hand on Chuuya and Damian's back the lady attempts to get their attention. Key word being attempted.

“Why does the man named Rick have a dumb hairstyle? How is he supposed to do his task looking like that,” Again questions Damian. Now completely absorbed in the weird activity his brother is partaking in.

Rolling his eyes the younger boy flipped the digital pizza. “How am I supposed to know that? My job is to just flip pizzas,” retorts Chuuya as he brings the receipt down and sends the pizza out.

With a tightened smile the lady coughs into her hands trying to gain their attention. “Now boys, I don’t know if you read the sign but, no one older than 15 is allowed in this area. Kids are only allowed in the children's section,”

Turning her head toward the left, they see a medium-sized sign on the wall with “No kids under 15 allowed,” in bold red.

“Now, where are your parents? Questions the lady in a pinched voice.

Watching as the customer gives him a rating on his pizza he decided not to answer. Damian was the one in charge, the little fucker could do all the talking.

“That plebian has given you an 89 percent on the decorating task? How dare such undeserving, waste of space single-celled organism-”

He was wrong, he could not rely on his brother in any capacity.

Turning his head to face the lady he puts on his best half-assed smile and looks brightly at her. “ Our mother left to go take care of business,”

“And your father…”

“Dead”

Damian, who had now at this point, taken over playing the game as his brother talks to the undeserving life form behind them. “How dare you give my brother an 89 on decorating, come and duel me like a man,”

Blinking, Chuuya watches as the lady whips her head to stare down at his brother who is too absorbed in the game now to care about his surroundings.

“Our dad was stabbed,”

Whipping her head to turn back to the red-headed boy the women's eyes widen. “Excuse me…”

Blinking the boy opens his mouth, closes it, then blinks some more. “He liked to play with sugar, mommy said it got him killed,” explains the boy.
Staring down at the child the woman looks around her, straightens up, and puts back on her fake smile. “The kid’s section is downstairs. Just…go to your right and you’ll find it,” with that, the woman scurries back to her desk.

“I burnt the pizza,”

—----------------------------------

“How about we just blow up her car while she’s in it?”

“And how would we do that,”

“Home Depot,”

Shuffling noises arise from his right ear. “What’s a home depot?”

Keeping his eyes on the overly colorful ceiling the boy lets out a sigh. “A place where you get supplies, enough supplies to build a bomb,”

Giving his brother enough time to digest the information he puts his energy into counting how many sheep are on the ceiling. So far he had counted six.

“Mother didn’t teach us how to make a bomb,” retorts his brother with a pout.

Deciding to be a bitch Chuuya continues to count his sheep. “She taught me,”

Hearing his brother sit up beside him on the green mat with children's toys surrounding them he makes no effort to acknowledge him. He now has found 10 sheep.

“How has she taught you how to make a bomb but not me, the rightful heir to the throne, and the future ruler of the world, and all it ha-,”

“Because I asked,” interrupts the ginger.

He did not ask his mother to teach him how to make a bomb, actually, he barely knew how to make a bomb. He just remembers seeing a friend of his from the mafia work on one. Probably wouldn't be that difficult to make. Found another sheep.

“Teach me this instant,” demands his brother with his arms crossed.

“So you want to go with the bomb option,”

“Yes, now show me how it's done,”

the boy slowly gets up from his spot as he moved towards the computers. The screen lights up and shows the last thing that had been searched on it. Something about what color Elmo is.

Opening another tab the boy types in how to make a bomb. Hearing footsteps from behind which he assumes is his sibling, he opens up Microsoft Word and starts typing out the stuff they’ll need.

“Mom left us money, right,”

“Yes, about 500 dollars,”

“That's my computer,” speaks up a voice beside them.

Both boys turn their heads to the right as they see an overweight ginger-haired boy looking at them. The kid looked to be around 9-10 years old and was wearing a torn white shirt with red shorts.

“You the one who googled what color was Elmo?” questions Chuuya

Ignoring his question the boy frowns to himself and walks closer to them. Looking at Chuuya the boy grins darkly. “Why is your hair that stupid color? My daddy said all red-headed people were aliens here to steal jobs,”

Great. The kid that didn’t know what color Elmo was, was now making fun of his hair color.

Frowning his brother looks at the boy with wonder in his eyes. “How would the color of my brother's hair correlate with people not finding jobs? Who is your father and what is his proof,” demands the 5-year-old boy

Great. His brother didn't understand the insult and was now trying to debate the topic.

Deciding that he had bigger shit to worry about he ignores whatever the fuck is happening beside him. Writing down the materials that they need he looks around to make sure no one is paying the three kids any attention.

“Nu uh, my daddy said that all those aliens do is come to our home, take our jobs and drink their days away,” shouts the boy.

Rolling his eyes Damian starts to tap his foot. “I’ve met aliens and none of them are on the level to steal your father's job, if anything it shows how unremarkable your father is to lose his job to one,”

Snarling the boy grabs the front of the boy's shirt. “You take that back you little shit stain! My dad was way better than that green wrinkly mr Gabber,”

Both of the twins look toward the older boy.

Bringing his tiny hands to grab onto the older boy grabbing him, Damian tightens his grip on the boy's hands. They watch as the boy starts to wince from the pain.

“What the fuck did you mean by green and wrinkly? Are you color blind or something?” questions Chuuya as he goes back to writing down the list. He had more important things than watching his brother beat up some stupid kid.

“Anyway there are two free computers over there, just go to one of them,” States Chuuya. Trying to get the kid away from them. He didn't care what happens to the kid but he’d rather not draw attention to himself. He doubted the boy's parents would take kindly to Damian putting him in an early grave.

“No, I want that one,” replies the chubby boy.

Clicking on the print button Chuuya waits as the bar loads. Ignoring the situation beside him he spots out the corner of his eye a woman looking worryingly at them. Judging by her reddish hair he assumed she was the boy's mother.

Weird. You think by how much the kid’s dad hated redheads he wouldn’t have married one. Noticing the bar going full the boy jumps out of the chair. “Damian, watch the computer while I go get the list,” Not waiting for a reply he walks towards the printer.

Coming to a stop beside the printer he makes sure his back is facing his brother and the kid. He refused to be associated with the train wreck that shit was about to become. He was surprised his brother showed any restraint, usually, the kid would have stabbed something by now.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about his brother potentially stabbing some 9-year-old. No, the important question was…how was he supposed to reach the printer? Beside him, against the blue-colored wall, the printer was on a counter that was way too tall for his 5-year-old body. His head didn’t even reach the top of the counter.

Looking around he tried to spot a stool to stand on. What the fuck was the point of having a public printer in the kid’s section if they couldn’t fucking use it? Could he just get the help of an adult? Would the average adult know the needed materials to make a bomb?

He could just lighten his gravity and just jump high enough to grab it but would that look weird? The room was kinda crowded. Was it weird for a 5-year-old to jump that high? What if the people watching had connections with their target? They’d be caught before it even began. This is why he hated undercover missions. He always started overthinking about shit like this.

Looking intensely at the out-of-reach printer he hums to himself. “Brother, bring the kid. I need him,” utters Chuuya. He doesn’t turn to face his brother. Damian always had enhanced hearing so he figured the kid would hear him.

Tabbing his foot patiently he grins when he hears what sounds like a dragging noise behind him.

“Took you long enough,”

“Do not blame me for this boy's poor choice of eating habits,”

With a pained expression, he steps to the side so Damian could see the problem. “We are short,”

Dropping the hand of the kid he dragged the older boy frowned. “Do not compare us Bruce, you are short.”

“What do you mean don’t compare us? We’re literally twins.”

“Tt, of course, your atom-sized brain doesn’t get it,” mutters Damian.

Crossing his arms in front of him he glares at the older boy. “And what actually is my atom-sized brain missing? We’re the same height dipshit,”

To make his point he stands in front of his twin and puts his left hand to his forehead and extends it to Damians.

Without uttering a word his brother moves back and stands on top of the fallen child beside them. “As I said before you utter imbecile. You are short, I am tall.”

Looking up at his brother who was now standing on top of a bleeding child, his left eye starts to twitch. “Okay, you tall bastard. Get the damn list so we can leave,”

“Tt, easy.” Replies his brother who doesn’t move an inch.

“Well..are you going to get it or what?”

Looking up at the printer and back at his brother he realizes the issue. The makeshift stool wasn't close enough to the counter. “Well, get to it. Heir to the tall order.” mocks Chuuya.

“Move it,”

“Excuse me?”

Pouting his brother sits down Indian style on the still-bleeding boy and tilts his head upward. “You heard me, Bruce, I said move it so I can take the list,”

“And why can’t you move it,” ask Chuuya

“Because I’m in charge,”

“Yeah, so as the one in charge, why don’t you grab the paper,”

Grunting his brother makes no effort to get up. “Because I don’t want to. Now hurry up so we can carry out the mission,”

Letting out a sigh the younger twin moves to grab the unconscious kid's right foot. He was technically 27 now if you count the added years. He refused to argue with a dumb 5-year-old.

Dragging the body and his brother who was comfortably sitting on top of it he looks around the room. Noticing six different people curiously watching them he hurries up. Dramatically dropping the foot he watches as his brother smugly stands up with all the smugness a spoiled 5-year-old could hold and reaches for the paper.

Grabbing it he looks over it before humming to himself and stepping off the chubby kid. Extending his right hand to his brother he waits a second for Bruce to take his hand before he leads them towards the exit.

Walking towards the staircase Chuuya looks back at the passed-out child and the small blood pool surrounding him and frowns. He watches as an adult comes up beside the kid and gently bends down. Calmly shaking the kid as if he was waking up a drowsy toddler.

“Did you reset the computer we were at?”

“Tt, of course I did, what do you take me for? A novice?”

Watching as the adult begins to get more frantic in his shaking, Chuuya looks back at his twin. “Just making sure,”

Reaching the top of the stairs they hear a scream come from below. Looking at the state of his brother he notices blood stains on the side of his face. “Where did you stab him,” whispers Chuuya.

“In his neck, why,” boredly replies the older boy.

“A child walking around with blood on his face is weird, you also need a new shirt too. You have to clean up before we go get the supplies”

“Tt, all I need is to change my shirt in the car and wipe my face with water. A simple fix I can do on the ride to the home where Depot is”

Walking outside they head towards the direction they left the driver.

“Correct, but we should burn the shirt your wearing just in case. DNA is a bitch,” states Chuuya.

It was weird. Why was he calmly discussing ways to get rid of the evidence with his brother who just murdered some 10-year-old? Didn’t he hate seeing kids get murdered? Didn’t his stomach drop at the thought of killing a pregnant woman? Why was it that he only felt mildly annoyed at his brother for bringing attention to them?

Getting into the back seat of the car he tells the driver their next destination. Grabbing his brother's mini mouse-themed backpack he grabs a napkin from the side and a water bottle and pours the water on the napkin. “Sit still so I can get all the blood,”

Wiping his pouting brother's face he wonders if it’s because it was family that committed the crime. Not like he personally knew the victim. The kid insulted him and called him an alien with a drinking problem. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t be bothered to care. Though it's not like he hadn’t been insulted before. All the shitty mackerel ever did was insult him.

Handing his brother a clean shirt he waits as the child changes. It could be his new environment. All the league ever talked about was killing. Maybe he’s desensitized to it now? That couldn't be it though, he killed plenty of times while working for the mafia. Maybe cause the league had fewer morals than the mafia somehow.

“Bruce, stop your sulking this instant, we need to discuss our plan,” interrupts his brother.

Right, now wasn’t the time for questioning one's morals or lack of morals. They had a mission. An important mission, one that needed their entire attention.

For a minute he wonders. What would Dazi do in this situation?

Chapter Text

She had only started working here for a week. Her uncle had hooked her up with the job, no application or stupid interview was needed.

Major in philosophy she said, it would be easy she said, and that shit was easy. Easiest degree ever.

Now if only she could get a job not having to do with helping people pick paint for their walls.

“I said aisle 5 not fucking 12 dumbass,”

“No, you most certainly said aisle 12,”

“Why the fuck would I need something in the paint section?”

“For camouflage,”

“Why the hell would I paint a bom-”

“Can I help you with something?”

Putting down her phone the college graduate stares down at two toddlers who appear to be arguing over paint. Great, just what she needed, two annoyances to further ruin her week.

Putting on her best people-pleaser face she flashes them her best fake smile. “Hello, little boys, is your mommy or daddy around?” She’d rather deal with adults arguing over paint than two brats.

The dark-haired one frowns, and instead of answering, he walks past her desk and walks towards the green section of paints.

"This one,” Demands the rude brat as he grabs some color of the green family and ignores her as he walks towards the ginger-haired kid accompanying him.

She stares in confusion as the shorter one slaps the paint out of the taller one's hand. “Again, why the ever-lasting fuck would we need to paint a-” Pausing the boy looks up and stares her dead in the eyes.

Looking back at the boy she gives her best patient smile. Looking at the black-haired boy she raises her hand to point at him. “First off, you're not supposed to come behind the register, second off where are your parents,”
As if he had the hearing ability of Helen Keller, the boy ignores her and crosses his arms as he faces the ginger-haired boy. “This color is adequate to help us with our endeavor, With this color we shall-”

“Just put the damn bucket in the cart,” groans the ginger as if he’s the one suffering from this interaction the most.

“first of all only employees can grab the paint, a rule they implemented years ago,” starts the young adult as she moves to grab the small-sized bucket from the cart. “I’ll just take this and you two can go grab your parents or whatever-,”

“Get your fucking crippling student debt ass away from my cart,”

Halting her hand the girl shoots her eyes towards the black-haired kid. “I said move away not freeze like a prey, idiot.”

Rolling his eyes the tanned toddler takes the handle of the kiddy cart and turns around. Frozen from shock the girl looks down at the gingered-haired toddler still beside her.

“Is that kid always a dick,”

‘Do you always wear shirts one size smaller?”

“Listen here you little shi-”

“What aisle are the screwdrivers on?”

Now her turn to groan she looks up to the ceiling so fast she feels her neck crack. She was so close to kicking the shit out of this stupid fucking kid, would she probably go to jail? Yes, the assault of a minor was very real, however, once the police viewed the video footage she was sure they’d understand!

Taking out her phone from her back pocket the girl typed in her password from pure muscle memory. Tapping on the safari icon the girl started typing how long can you go to jail for assaulting a minor?

Looking at the rude Home Depot helper, Chuuya frowned as he waited for his answer to be…well answered? He knew there was a difference in customer service in Japan compared to America but this was shitty. The League had better customer service! An assassin organization had better fucking helpers than this. They even had a tour guide.

Not waiting for the crazy chick to answer his question he turned around and started walking toward the front to ask another employee. Walking by the hammer section he sees Damian looking at mini-stuffed animals placed in sections intended for small kids who were unfortunate to get dragged here by their dad.

coming towards the kid he stops beside him and pulls out a sticky note from his pocket. Looking over the list he thrust it towards the annoyance known as his brother.

“You're a capable 5-year-old, go get everything on the list while I look for a fucking screwdriver in this place.”

Frowning the dark-haired boy takes the list and looks over it. “Tch, of course I'm capable, as the heir to the demon head, born to rule the wor-”

“Anyway if you need me I'll be looking for the screwdriver,”

Walking away he doesn't bother to hear whatever the kid was trying to ramble about. He shared a room with the kid, the bastard talked in his sleep.

Walking to the front of the building he heads over to the huge sign titled “Customer Service”. Coming to a stop in front of the table he snaps his fingers to get the employee's attention.

“ excuse me, can you tell me where the screwdrivers are?” One should always start a conversation with casualness, something he should get around to teaching Damain. That asshole personality was going to screw him over, especially in the assassination professional world. He was surprised Talia let it get this bad, though that probably had to do with the fact she was the same just less aggressive about it.

Staring at the old dude looking down at him Chuuya starts tapping his foot. He knew the fucker heard him. He might be 5 put his voice worked perfectly fine, thank you very much! “I said, where are the screwdrivers,” demands Chuuya in a louder voice.

Seeing the man’s eyes look his way he can tell he got the male's attention. Arching his eyebrow he waits for the man to answer him. “I’m fucking waiting?”

Frowning the man rolls his eyes and points to the left of the boy. “A20” With that the adult male turns around and goes back to doing…something. Feeling his eye twitch Chuuya closes his eyes and counts to 10, it would be a terrible idea to kill a man in the middle of a Home Depot. He’s on his first-ever mission assigned to him by the league. He has seen what happened to failures in the league, He wasn’t 100% sure his status would protect him.

He had to be the bigge-

“Well, are you gonna move brat or what?”

Fuck this.

—--------------------------------

Grabbing the box of the listed nails required for their bomb, Damian tosses it in the kiddy basket given to him by his brother.

He still couldn’t believe Mother had taught Bruce how to make a bomb but not him, the rightful heir to the demon head! It was shocking at first and quite worrying but as usual, his brother was quick to share his knowledge with him. As he should, his brother was born to be his right-hand man, it was written in the stars for his little brother to dedicate his life to Damian. If Bruce had a problem with that, then he should have come out of the womb first.

However, you couldn’t reverse time, so his brother was forever to serve him. Though his little brother had nothing to fear, the Al Ghuls treasured family above all.

Hearing familiar footsteps behind him Damian doesn’t bother turning around, nor does he bother to acknowledge his brother. He never had to bother with such things when it came to Bruce, they always knew how to communicate without a single noise required.

“I found the screwdriver,”

Still not stopping he looks out the corner of his eyes as Bruce tosses in a reddish screwdriver and a stuffed mini toy lion. Halting the cart he allows the gingered-haired boy to unzip one of the bookbags and places the bloody screwdriver in it.

After hearing the zip of the bookbag the boy resumes walking. “There’s a self-checkout near the back of the building, I already reached out to our driver to meet us there.”

“I assume there’s an issue in the front,”

“As sharp as always heir to the demon head,”

“Tch, it comes with the title,”

—-------------------------------------------

When placing a bomb under a car one should always be aware of their surroundings. The year was 2006 and cameras are a pain in any criminal's ass. Gone were the days when one could murder a person and not worry about DNA, fingerprints, 4k!!

Looking around Chuuya maneuvers around the parking lot as he approaches his target. A modest 1999 silver Toyota Corolla. You would think a former assassin could afford better than whatever this was, but he remembers his grandfather taking away the league's pension and health care over the snake incident. Something about who deserves dental insurance when they couldn’t even block a fucking snake. Anyway, the boy was getting off-topic, must be the pre-murder nerves. Hasn’t felt that in years.

“On your left, a couple is walking your way,” informs Damian a safe distance from the parking lot. Turning down the volume on his earpiece the gingered boy quickly moves out of site. “Tch, don’t get distracted, we have already wasted so much time on this,” scolds his older brother.

“Yeah yeah, go cry me a river,” mumbles the 5-year-old as he places the bomb under the car. If it works like it’s intended to then as soon as she starts up her car the whole car should light in flames.

Like Oda but without the tied-up children.

Turning around he maneuvers around the parking lot and makes his way to a safe distance. They only had one chance to kill this woman. Some might call him stupid( only the dead-eyed fish did that). He dealt with his fair share of assassinations during his time in the mafia, and they were the worst opponents ever. They were easy to kill don’t get him wrong, but any whiff of danger and they were crossing the border.

Unlike Damian, he knew they only had one chance to get this right. A seasoned league assassin vs. two toddlers? Please, they’d die before she’d break a sweat. Even if they would live she’d be out of the country before the sun set if she got away. They’d go back home failures and she’d never keep her eyes closed longer than twenty seconds.

Though if he used his abilities they’d have a better chance. Not like he had to worry about them experimenting on hi-

“She’s coming out!” alerts Damian, jolting out of his thoughts.

Well, it’s now or never.

Not bothering to look back in fear of alerting the target he squats behind a car and stills his movements. Slowing down his breath he slowly counts in his head as he hears the sound of a car opening.

Hearing ignition starts he puts his hands over his ears to block the sound of the blast.

…

….

….

….

“The car was supposed to blow up by now, right?” questions his brother in his earpiece.

Swearing under his breath he darts his eyes over to the car that's now reversing out of the parking spot. “This is what we get for making a bomb in a fucking car during rush hour,”

Throwing his face into his hands he starts breathing in and out over and over. Why did he dare Damian make the bomb in the car on the way here? He knew the kid would do it!

“We made three workable bombs for the past 2 days and now this one fails,” complains Damian as he starts to panic. “I knew we should have gone with my plan!”

In hindsight maybe he should have listened to Damian. After getting the supplies they used up 3 days to create the bomb. Another day was wasted on the target calling out sick. Today was the last day to catch her off guard at work. Not to mention tomorrow morning their mother will appear before them to give an assessment. This was the last day to complete their mission and the plan had fallen apart.

Watching the car pull out into the highway Chuuya gets up and pulls out his earpiece. He refused to continue listening to Damian blame him. The one time he tried to work as an assassin and it blows up in his face. He wasn’t made for this shit!

“Now what shall we tell Mother?”

“Why do you talk as if the day is over?,” Quetions Chuuya as he crosses the road to collect his older brother. He had tried to think like an assassin and it blew up in his face. He had never had this much trouble killing someone.

He had always been more of a heavy hitter anyway. No need to fix something that never broke. Walking into the Mcdonald he extends his hand to the black-haired boy. “Let's get this over with,”

“Tch, I’m never letting you plan again,” retorts his brother as he shoves past him.

Rude.

—---------------------------------------------------

“As I stated before, you are to go in and look around as I sneak in the back door,” commands Damian as he looks over to their target’s house.

Getting up Chuuya pulls out a black beanie from his backpack and puts it over Damian's head before putting a blue one over his. Fuck this assassin shit.

Getting up he moves away from the nice bush they made acquaintance with and walks toward the house. Taking a baseball from out of his pocket he throws it towards the front window of the house. Hearing a shriek coming of the house he smiles and walks towards the front door. Ringing the doorbell he starts to crack his knuckles as he waits.

Hearing the sound of footsteps he moves back.

Watching as the door swings open in the most aggressive way possible, Chuuya looks at the husband of the target.

“Are you the one who threw this ball?” angrily questions the man as he looks at Chuuya with thinly veiled anger.

Without saying a word the boy walks up close to the man and kicks him in the knee. As the man falls to his knees in pain the gingered boy walks into the house and closes the door behind him. Life was easier when you did things your way.

Putting his hands up he puts his fingers on top of the man’s eye and starts to push them in. He wasn’t a danger like his wife but it would be best to incapitate him.

Crying out the man grasps his hands onto Chuuya in an attempt to move them. Finding himself unable to move the tiny hand of a toddler the man starts to try to stand. However, he quickly finds himself unable to move himself or the child.

Hearing the man cry in pain he hears the sounds of footsteps coming his way. Stepping away from the man once he hears a crunching sound he crouches down behind a large chair as he waits to attack the next person.

“Is everything okay love?” questions a mature female voice. He listens to footsteps that quickly come to stand near where he left the man. In the distance, he can hear the sounds of younger more childish voices.

Not giving the man a chance to explain the situation He gently lifts the chair with his right hand and rames it to whoever is standing beside the man with all his might. Without stopping to assess the damage of his enemies he pulls out a combat knife from his shorts and throws it into the chest of the wounded man.

His ability wasn’t made for closed spaces. He had to get this fight over with as soon as possible. Not only that but with all the noise he doubted it would be long before police showed up. Nodding to himself he runs to the back of the house where he’s certain the kids are.

Coming into the kitchen he sees a puddle of blood on the floor. Stopping in his tracks he looks up to see the backdoor wide open. Cursing to himself he quickly moves over to see where the blood is coming from.

The target was at the front, the kids in the back. Either the children have met an incident or Damian got too cocky. Rounding the corner he sees the sight of what appears to be a young girl's lifeless body laid out on the floor. With what appeared to be a large cut around her neck. Looking up he sees his brother taking his knife out of the skull of a young boy. A young boy that looked to be their age.

Remembering they didn’t have time for Chuuya to scold him the boy grabs Damian’s arm and turns around to the opposite wall of where the kid's lifeless bodies are.

The first thing Taleb will see is the blood, next her heart shall spike up, and finally she'll see the lifeless bodies of her children. That will be their moment.

Using his ability he silently walks on the walls and moves to stand on the ceiling. Looking back he motions for Damian to follow his movement. Arriving at the corner of the ceiling with a full view of the scene he waits for the footsteps he knows will appear.

Hearing the sound of something being moved he watches as a heavily pregnant woman dashes into the kitchen. As he predicted she comes to a halt when she notices the blood. Maybe her time out of the league made her sloppy or the dead weight in her belly slowing her down.

Just like Chuuya had done, she swears and quickly moves to follow the blood. He tightens his grip on Damian’s wrist and casually walks on the roof behind her. With a bored gaze, he watches as she falls to the ground in front of the girl with a slit throat.

Walking until both boys were right above her, he nodded his head towards his brother and dropped his hand. His brother was the one who wanted the kill, not him. As his brother drops from the ceiling with a knife in his hand the gingered boy drops down to the counter.

Feeling his feet hit the counter he glances over to the woman with a knife stuck in her skull. The same way her youngest died. How cute.

Hearing police sounds from outside he calmly walks towards the backdoor. Looking back to his brother who was covered in blood from head to toe he frowns. They needed to teach this kid not to be so messy.

Feeling his brother come to stand beside him the two walk for a while until the ginger-haired boy catches sight of the driver and car their mother assigned to them.

“Would you accompany me to the World of Disney,”

Looking over at his stoic brother he blinks.

“Fuck yes,”

Chapter Text

He has never been this disrespected in his 27 years of living.

If you don’t count the child experiments…or Dazai…..or his brother……the snake incident….anytime Dazai opens his mou-

Anyway, where was he? Never in his 27 years of living had he ever been this disrespected-” Where is the spinning transition! We could never present this to mother without it,”

The below-average height gingered boy stops his typing as he looks to the boy on his left, “You do not need any more fucking transitions. We’re on the third slide and this is the second time you’ve used that shitty ass transition,” Says the boy as he snatches the mouse out of the raven-haired boy's hands.

Darkening his gaze, the tan-skinned boy leans back into his seat.” Tt, if you were one of the servants, I’d have you embowled and your head as my new toilet placeholder,” retorts the boy as he leisurely takes out a blade from his sleeve.

Chuuya rolled his eyes as he allowed Damian to stroke his ego. Over the years, Chuuya has learned that Damian’s need to feel the biggest in the room was due to a lack of self-esteem. This is strange since you’d think the crowned prince of an organization would be more self-anchored in his identity.

It wasn’t Chuuya’s problem, though. He had a home to return to, a job that needed him. He didn’t have time to help a 7-year-old whom he barely tolerated.

“Put your stupid knives away and make yourself useful,” huffed the ginger-haired boy as he added another slide to the PowerPoint.”We only have one hour of screen time a week, and I refuse to let you ruin this for me.”

“Besides, I told you to look up happy family stock photos. I’m trying to sell this shit,”

“As I’ve said before, you lower life form, I have already found all the pictures required for the mission. It is you who-”
“Then why the fuck do you keep adding these fuck ass transitions that make no sense you dead eyed-Not the fucking laptop!” shouts Chuuya as he attempts to grab the dagger from the hot-headed boy. Tussling, they slide off the chairs and collide with the cold, stone floor beneath them.

“We only have one fucking laptop! I’m not blowing up another populated island to get another one.”

“If your heart bleeds so much for the tin box, let me use my transitions.”

“Why the hell do you need so many goddamn transitions! We haven’t even named the PowerPoint yet.”

“Irrelevant,”

Under the watchful eyes of their current servants, the two boys rolled around on the floor. They went back and forth until they settled on Chuuya on top and Damian on the floor. Out of the corner of his eyes, the boy could see an increase in servants looking at them. One appeared to be their physics teacher. Yay.

Losing interest in the scuffle, the blue-eyed boy loosens up and allows the tanned boy to reverse their position. This had been happening more frequently as the years went on, ever since their first mission. Gravity abilities made one a strong contender for heir status. Their grandfather has called it a blessing from the pit and had labeled him as the “blessed one” and damnit did the cult eat that shit up. Between their grandfather showing him off to allies like a peacock during mating season and challenging solo missions, Chuuya was at his wits' end.

Chuuya still couldn’t tell if the man was a proud grandfather or soft-launching an heir switch. Anyone with half a brain cell could see the growing split forming in the league regarding who the rightful heir was. Maybe that was why Damian had become obsessed with competing with Chuuya, and there was no way he hadn't heard doubts about his position. Chuuya couldn’t even take a dump without hearing how he'd make a better heir.

Letting out a long sigh, the 7-year-old calmly watched as his brother brought the silver blade towards his throat. “Do you submit?” He could feel the room sink into a cold pause. Everyone was waiting to see who was stronger. That was all that mattered: Who was stronger?

Not one to back down from a challenge, the boy calmly moved his head forward to meet the blade. Chuuya felt bad for the boy but that didn’t mean he’d allow himself to get bitched around. “The day you learn how pointless this is, Grandfather might start taking you to meetings,” mutters the boy as he slowly raises his mass.

They both could hear the straining of the metal. Quickly, the blade would turn into two. Narrowing his eyes Damian slowly retreats his hand from his twin's neck but before he can a hand grapse his wrist, keeping it in place. “No, no, don’t back out now. It’s unbecoming for the heir of the League of Assassins to be so unsure of himself.” Tightening his grip on the older boy's hand, he drags it back towards his neck. He wondered which would last longer. The boy’s wrists or the blade. They would find out soon enough.

As if reading Chuuya’s intentions, a voice rises from the group. “Master Bruce, physics exam in 20 minutes.” Turning his head to the group, he notices the uneasy looks of all present. “Ah! Saving the brat from another stupid decision,” chuckles the boy as he loosens his grip on the other wrist.

He needed to teach Damian a lesson, but 20 minutes was 20 minutes. Making sure to use his ability, he lightly shoved the boy to the side. Unable to contain his laughter, he snorted while watching the boy skid in front of the group of servants. Slowly getting up, he walked back to the computer his grandfather had purchased for him. Just thinking about it made him want to barf.

Resuming his typing, he could hear the bitter groans of his brother, who was busy violently refusing help from the servants.

“Get off the damn floor and be useful for once in your sad existence,”

Pity doesn’t equal kindness. It’s best that the brat learned that quickly.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s not that he hated going on missions for the league.

Out of everything that had happened to him, being forced to start over his entire life in a new environment where nothing reminded him of home. The missions were his only saving grace. The nostalgic feeling of working for an organization with the power to crush those around it. Where even a hint of doubt towards your loyalty equaled death. The reminder in the back of your head that you could die at any moment.

“Do you need help with your bag, kid?”

Putting on his best smile, the boy looked up to the olive-skinned man beside him. Before he could open his mouth, the man grabbed the duffle bag out of his hand and shoved it into the overhead bin. “There you go,” huffed the middle-aged man as he put his bag in the bin on the opposite side.

“Thank you, sir,” chants the ginger as he moves to his seat. His mother had gotten him the window seat, which he had to beg for, mind you. For whatever reason, she tried to give him the middle seat, something about learning to conquer miserable situations. Which is bullshit because his buddies in IT department claimed she only did first-class window seats!

That’s only if she flies commercial; most of the time, she takes the private jet. No way in hell was he gonna let her cheap out on him! Back-to-back missions treating him like he’s some unpaid intern begging for the job. It had been 2 months since he had been home. The last time he had seen Damian was after their physics exam, which he had flunked. Damian was too upset to take it for him like usual.

“Hey, my name is Fatma. What’s yours? " says a squeaky feminine voice. Looking to his right, he spots a tanned girl in a dress sitting beside him. Judging by her voice, she’s the complete opposite of Damian. He doesn’t know if that's a good thing or not.

“Chuuya,”

“Chew-ya,”

It was bad. It's really bad. “No, Chuuuyaaaa, Chuuya,” enphesizses the blue eyed boy. “Sound it out or something; just fix it.”

Aggressively nodding, the girl seemed to listen to everything the boy said. However, he had seen the look in her eyes before. It was the same look his cousin Maya had whenever their teacher talked about fractions.

Not believing in the child, he decides to take the high road and ignores the girl. He had a mission to complete, and failure was not an option. Some Iranian politicians had been getting in the way of his grandfather's takeover of the country. After Ras discovered he couldn’t buy off the politician, he decided to make an example of the poor soul.

Usually, a simple home invasion would do the trick, but this time, Ra wanted to try something different. He wanted to let the country's leader know that he could reach them on the ground and in the sky. Chuuya’s mission was to blow up the plane with everyone on board, which he had no issue with. He's done this type of thing hundreds of times in the Mafia, though never with this many people. It's usually a private jet.

“You know this is my first time flying; I’m going to America to visit my dad!” Pulling the zipper of the purple backpack between her legs, the girl digs around for a while before pulling out a picture. “Here! A picture of my dad. I haven’t seen him since I was a baby!”

Barely listening to the babbling of the innocent child, the boy stares into the ivory green eyes of the girl. He wondered what face her dad would make once he knew he’d never see his daughter again. How will her mother react once she finds out she sent her daughter to her death?

In her hand lies a small, brownish photo with white streaks all over. The picture shows a small, petite brown male with a toddler in his arms. He assumed the toddler in the photo was Fatma. While outdated, the picture looked to be well taken care of. For a man she hadn’t seen since infancy, she sure cherished the man.

It reminded him of that one picture Talia had, the one she believes no one knows about. Some white guy with raven hair and a smile that barely reached his eyes. It was around their 6th birthday when he decided he couldn’t live this life without the taste of red wine. He had found her in a room looking down at the picture. She had caught him because, of course, she caught him. You can’t hide anything from that woman.

In a moment of weakness, he didn’t know she possessed the woman had confessed the man in the photo was his father. Brad wayne….or was it Bryan Reynolds…he hadn’t been paying attention cause honestly he didn’t give a shit and he smelled wine. She had promised that Damian and he would meet their father soon, and that the man loved them. Waiting for the moment to reunite with them all.

He wondered if the man had a picture of him and Damian. If there was a man with a worn-down picture of him holding two infants with a gigantic smile on his face, proudly showing the photos to strangers wherever he went, infants he hadn’t seen in years, infants that weren’t infants anymore.

All he had done was hug her and allow her to sit him in her lap as she whispered sweet promises into his ear. He never found the wine cellar that night.

He would had told Damian but kid refused to take his physics exam for him so fuck that asshole. He’ll figure it out at some point.

“Haven’t seen him since you were a toddler. Are you sure he’ll recognize you? Questioned the boy.

Watching as the girl's smile drops into a frown, he glances as she quickly hunches her shoulders. Of course, he’ll remember me! I’m his only daughter! I’m going to visit him right now, am I not?” defends the girl.

“Only a question, don’t get your train up in a twist, brat,” retorts the boy.

“ Rude! I haven’t seen him in 6 years. He went away for business and…never came back. He hasn’t reached out that much either..but that's all in the past! He called Mom and specifically asked for me!” Proudly huffs the girl with a smile on her face.
Frowning, the boy rested his chin against his palm as he looked past the girl and realized that everyone seemed to be seated, all now waiting for the plane to take off to their destination. Could he sneak a movie in before reaching the drop zone? Ra wasn’t here to bitch in his ear.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“So his car, Bumblebee, is a transformer tasked with protecting him from…evil robots who want to take over the world?”

“Yes, but no, they need to protect him since he has these glasses that got passed down by his ancestors and-”

“Who the fucked passes down eyeglasses in their-SHIT HE WAS A PHONE!! THEY CAN DO THAT”

“Shhhsss not so loud, and yes, they can transform into any technical object. Haven-”

“Excuse me, either of you want a beverage or snack?”

Looking up, both boy and girl meet the face of a middle-aged woman in the standard Iranian flight attendant uniform. “We have Sprite, diet Sprite, water, and Pepsi, and for snacks, we have pretzels, peanuts, and crackers. Can I interest you children in anything?”

“Can I have a Sprite and pretzels, please?”

“A Sprite and some pretzels,”

Turning to look at each other, the kids laugh at the similar request given.

Smiling at the children, the woman quickly handed them their drinks and snacks in a form that screamed repetition. “If either of you needs anything, please let us know. " With that, she turned to the opposite side and repeated the question again.

Placing his drink down on the stand and tearing open his small pack of pretzels, he pops one into his mouth. Looking back at the movie, he notices there are 20 minutes left. Not wanting to delay any further, he picks up both earpieces and passes the left one to the girl. “Are we finishing this or what?”

Grabbing the earpiece and popping it into her ear, the girl playfully bumps his shoulder as she moves to unpause the movie. “You think we’re finished after this? They have 2 and 3 up here as well. We’re watching them all pipsqueak!” proclaims the girl as she munches on a pretzel.

Hearing the words out of the girl's mouth, the boy starts to estimate how much longer it will be until they reach the meetup his grandfather set. He had at least two more hours before they landed at the destination. He assumed he could get in at least one more movie before he had to do his job.

Looking back, it’s a good thing he did this mission solo. There's no way in hell he’d have this much fun with a fellow league member. He probably could have convinced Damian to watch a movie, but the loser would have complained the entire time.

In times like these, he missed the people from the Port Mafia. They knew how to work and have fun, not this all-work, minimal lifestyle the league had going on. The man talked about ruling and control, but forced his grandchildren to live for nothing and expect nothing.

If Chuuya had been anyone other than, well, Chuuya, he doubts he’d be this well functioning. He’d probably end up like Damian. A walking emotional breakdown waiting to happen. The league didn’t even believe in mental health, that kid was fucked. Hell, last month he overheard some assassin talking about depression, and the next day they gutted the guy like a pig in a butcher shop. Then they threw him in the pit, but they throw everyone in the pit, so that doesn’t even count.

“Wait, so he killed Megatron with the Allspark, so now they can’t even go home wtf,”

“Yeah, well, thank him because now we get like five more movies,”

“Thank you, Sam, thank you soooo much,” huffs the boy as he gets up. “Move over, I gotta go to the bathroom,”

“Okay,” acknowledged the girl as she moved her legs back.

Stepping into the aisle, the boy walks to the plane's pack. He didn’t really have to go to the bathroom, but he’s been slacking off for the past two hours, and he really needs to know where the hell his target went. Walking slowly down the aisle, the boy assesses everyone on the plane until he finally spots his target.

FarrokhzAd Saadat, A dark skinned 58 year old man who has unfortionatly pissed of his grandfather. A rising politician who refused to be bought out like many of his other coworkers. The boy wondered if he would have taken the money if he knew what his fate had in store. He could respect the politician, try to make his home country a better place, and fight against corruption so that the people could live better lives.

It reminded him of the Armed Detective Agency, trying to make Yokohama a better place. No matter how futile that goal truly was. Not even the addition of Dazia could deter the Port Mafia.

Walking past the target, he continues to the backroom. He wondered how pissed his grandfather would be if there were survivors on the plane? No way in hell he was killing that girl. She was too fun to kill. Besides, she still had that “no killing children” honor code that he’s broken multiple times.

It's what happens when you're part of the league. Your bottom line gets lower and lower, and you're forced to reconfirm who you are as a person—if you're even still a person. Shame consumed him when he first realized he was adapting to the league.

He was surprised when he adapted to the sheep after the lab, or when he had adapted to the Mafia after the sheep. No matter where he went, he always fit in, just as every new place chips away at the remaining pieces that made him human. He wondered if anything would be left of his humanity once he got back home, or if the league would successfully take everything from him, just like how Dazia and the port had taken from him years ago.

But none of that mattered anymore; it stopped mattering years ago. Besides, he had a plane to crash. Tapping his hands against the bathroom, he felt around for weak points. He had no idea how he would crash the plane; there were hundreds of ways to do it, but none of them sat well with him. The only thing Ra told him was, “Blow the plane up.”

He wondered if he could just kick a hole in the side of the plane…maybe he could take off a wing while he was at it. Flushing the toilet, he remembered about the second movie. He really wanted to see that movie….and he doubted he’d ever get the chance to see it after this. Decisions, decisions. Kill a hundred people now or do it later.

Besides, if he ever watched it again, he’d have to watch it with either Damina or Maya, and neither of them was fun to hang out with. He refused to even think about watching a movie with Ra or Tailia.

He wasn’t even at the checkpoint yet. He was rushing for no reason. Might as well enjoy himself.

Walking back up the aisle, the boy gently taps on the target's shoulder and pauses his walk. As the aged man looks up to him in confusion, the boy graces him with a tiny smile. Without uttering a word, the boy double-taps the man's shoulder twice in a row and resumes walking back to his seat. That should be enough to let the man know death is upon him.

And judging by the way the man’s face was slowly losing color, he assumed his message had been received. All that was left was to enjoy his little freedom before it all came crashing down.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You're late,” Mutters a ginger-haired boy nestled on top of the remains of what used to be a wing to a plane in the middle of a desert. He doubted there was civilization for the next hundred miles. Climbing to his feet, the boy jumps off the wing and lands beside more wreckage from the plane. He wondered if Fatma survived the plane crash. He had been kind enough not to kick the hole in her direction. Hopefully, the girl could swim. He calmly walked towards the sleek black jeep, side-stepping all of the broken parts from the plane's wing.

Pausing, he allows the league servant to move to open the right backdoor for him. Getting in, he nods at the servant. He rests against the luxurious black leather and takes in the wreck before him. Looking out the front window of the jeep, he’s greeted with a fully attached wing of a plane littered with cords, seats, and dismembered body parts.

It takes him 5 seconds to become aware he’s not the only one in the backseat. To the left of him, his immortal grandfather picks at his nails as he waits for his grandchild to notice him finally. No doubt here to whisk the kid away to another future crime scene.

He thought he was overworked in the port mafia. If the words out of this man’s mouth weren’t something about a four-week vacation, then Chuuya was forming a Union.

Sitting beside the man, Chuuya kept his mouth shut, waiting for the man to get on with whatever he wanted.

“It’s been three years since I first saw your powers, and they have yet to disappoint me, grandson,” praises the man as he looks at the wreckage. He motions with his head for the servant to start driving. The jeep takes off from the field and quickly turns back towards the roads.

Rolling his eyes the boy cocks his head to the side and looks up at the elder. “The pit must have damaged your Cortex during your last skinny dip. Do i look like that low self-esteemed pipesqeak who needs validation every three seconds? What do you want?”

The man lets out a light chuckle and flashes a smile at the boy. Ever since he discovered his youngest could control gravity, he had made sure to personally oversee the boy's training. In an age of superheroes and metahumans, the league had fallen behind in power. The Justice League was forming, and Bruce and his gaggle of sidekicks constantly interfered, ruining his plans.

The birth of his daughter's youngest had given the league the edge it needed and was slowly but surely bringing it back towards the center of the world. Now, if only the oldest were as useful as the youngest. If his daughter and Brue weren’t so attached to the boy, he would have arranged his death already.

“Your brother has beaten your mother in a spar. Congratulate him next time you see him,” comments the man as he folds his legs. “What was it? Your mother had plans to send both of you off to meet the man after you both bested her in a duel. However, I’m not as soft as your mother. You must complete your final mission if you wish to join your brother.”

“Was killing two hundred people in one go insufficient?” questioned the boy. He was very sure Damian had not killed a hundred people at once. Fucking favortism the kid always got it easy.

“Your brother is trained under your mother; you are different. As the overseer of your training, only I can say when you're ready to meet the man,” hums the elder as he looks towards the roads.

During their talk, the jeep reached a small village on the outskirts of Morocco. Driving through the road, he could see children playing and mothers weaving baskets in front of their homes. It was a small but warm village. He felt sorry that Ra had even set foot in their home.

As the car pulls to a stop, the man turns to his grandson while raising his hand to point at a building. “Everyone in this building, kill everyone in this building. That is your test.

Blinking, the boy can barely pay attention as the servant has already opened the door for him. “Shouldn’t you at least brief me before sending me on a mission? “the boy questioned, obviously stalling.

Not feeling in the mood to call out the disrespect, the man smiles again, but Chuuya can tell the man is annoyed by how his emerald eyes flash with hot rage. “Okay, little on. My enemies, in that Thai building, are my enemies. Kill everyone in this building.”

Chuuya knew when he was being dismissed. Not wanting to upset the man further, he got out of the car and walked towards the front door. He wasn’t religious or anything, but he truly hoped to God there weren’t any children in this building. The longer he lived this life, the less likely he knew he could face Koyo once he returned home.

“Oh, and Chuuya. Hurry up now. You wouldn’t want to get left behind by your Mother now, would you?”

Fuck he wish someone would kill this fucker.

Chapter Text

DAMIAN POV

It was an odd feeling that coursed through Damian’s body once his mother, on her knees, conceded defeat. Yes, there was the feeling of satisfaction mixed with the child-like desire to best his mother in a fight, but what really filled his veins and overtook every cell in his body was the euphoric rush of calmness. The silence that followed right after was a silence he doubted he’d ever forget.

The cave his mother had chosen to hold their annual duel was unusually silent, which was odd, since a cave was never truly silent. From the dripping water to the sleeping bats to the way the rocks were eroding around them. Yes, all of it was silent, as if the entire cave had stopped its activities to watch the turning point in this young man's life. He didn’t know if he should thank them for their consideration or pretend as if he never once doubted his success over his mother in battle.

As if the countless battle wounds had never happened. How late at night his brother would apply ointment and effectively wrap his wounds in silence. As if the 8-year-old boy hadn’t walked into the cave already believing in his failure. Expecting another failure, just like every other year.

He watched as his mother slowly rose, as if her defeat meant nothing to her. As if this were just another day, as if this day didn't mean everything to him.

“Well done, my little prince,” praises his mother once she stands up.

Brushing the dust from her shoulders, she calmly walks towards her son. She puts her hand on his shoulder in a calm, collective manner. “It is now time for you to meet your father, and if Bruce has completed his evaluation, so shall he.”

Fighting the urge to smile, the boy looks into his mother's eyes. “Yes, mother.”

Satisfied with his short answer, the woman walks off towards the entrance of the cave; never once does she look back at her son, as if assured that no matter what, the boy would be behind her.

Walking behind his mother, the 8-year-old can’t help his lips from rising. He thanks the gods that his brother isn’t here to crack his annoying jabs. He couldn’t wait until they were all back at the palace, where he could gloat and tell his brother the glory of how he bested their mother in battle.

Of course, his brother will share his own glories of battle from his evaluation. Damian assumed it would be spectacular compared to the simplicity of his fight with his mother. Since the other had the privilege of being taught by their grandfather.

It was a wonder, something so monumental for the boy, always felt unimportant when compared to his brother.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Contrary to what he has led others to think about him, the boy loved a heavily populated room. He loved it when rooms would be filled to the brim with people. The way bodies pushed against each other, the way his grandfathers' top elites would stake out the room for possible threats, the loud banging of the drums as it commanded the rhythm of the room.

Yes, Damian loved a crowded room. He loved it whenever his grandfather threw a celebration. When everyone under his grandfather would gather in a room, it allowed him to note the people he would one day rule. The people who would take orders from him just like they do for his grandfather.

Raising his hand, Ra silences the crowd and music. Dressed in ceremonial clothes, he stands up at the front with his daughter and his two grandsons to his left, looking down upon the crowd.

“Today, we gather to celebrate the accomplishments of my heir, Damian and Bruce Al Ghoul!” proudly exclaimed Ra.

Gesturing towards the twins, he proudly comes to stand behind both of them. With a confident smirk on his face, Damian looks down towards the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes the lack of care in Bruce. His brother was never one for the league's festivals. Finding the activity exhausting.

Ra roughly slaps the oldest shoulder, jolting the boy out of his musing. “Here we have our oldest, Damian Al Ghoul, who has bested our dear Talia in a duel at the age of 8, something many of you are lacking in,” jokes the man. The crowd lets out a booming laugh at the statement. If they found the joke genuinely funny or only laughed out of fear, Damian would never know.

There were a lot of things the boy didn’t know.

“And our youngest, Bruce,” starts Ra. However, he deliberately goes silent after. The longer the silence stretches, the more attentive the room becomes. Damian hears the light tap his grandfather gives Bruce as if he were a puppeteer winding up his favorite doll.

Bruce sighs. “Mustafa is dead.”

Damian's eyes shot towards his little brother. Mastafa? He was the current president of the Kingdom of Bahrain, a lovely Middle Eastern country. The twins had visited with their mother once for political reasons. His grandfather had been trying to dig his claws into the country for a while now to no avail. It seems he now has.

As if the single word has cast a spell, the entire room goes silent—no one daring to speak. However, Damian can see crazed excitement on the crowd's faces. His mother’s face lit up. She had been heavily invested in Bahrain.

“Obviously, a country needs a leader, and in the next 24 hours, the kingdom of Bahrain shall announce the immediate installation of Rashid Ramzi as the new acting president,” continues the boy. No doubt, he is aware of the effect his news has on the crowd.

The ginger-haired boy pauses as he looks down at the attendants. “...a president who has been trained by the league, for this exact opportunity.” With that, the room, unable to contain itself, erupts into delightful chaos—a harmonized chant forms amongst the crowd.

An ancient chant that was created long before Damian's time. His caretaker used to sing the song to him before bed, well, she used to, before he killed her.

“Tomorrow, Bahrim, in a couple of months, the Middle Eastern content, and before we know it, Asia, Europe, Africa, South and North America, even the continents no one wants, all of them shall be ours!” Continue his brother as he lets the excitement of the crowd drown him out.

Ra raises his left hand. He starts up another speech, and usually, Damian would reverently listen to his grandfather’s speech, but tonight felt different.

As his grandfather drones on and on about cleansing the world, Damian couldn’t stop his brain from comparing the crowd's reaction to the boy's accomplishments. Besting his mother in a fight was something to brag about, especially since most members have yet to claim such a victory.

However, such an accomplishment has the value of paper floating out at sea when compared to what his brother accomplished, doesn’t it? How foolish the boy had been this morning, grinning like a cretin; no wonder his mother acted as if the fight held no weight for her.

Only a cretin would think such a battle meant something.

Usually, the boy would happily participate in the celebration. Still, for obvious reasons, the tan-skinned boy couldn’t muster up the energy to feel he was deserving of such a thing.

He doesn’t remember what happened after his grandfather’s speech, and before he knew it, he was walking with his brother and mother back to their chamber. They had a long day ahead of them.

After their mother wishes them a good night, in a rare show of affection, she kisses both of them on the forehead while embracing them. These moments, while rare, were Damian’s favorite moments.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, like most nights in Eth Alth'eban, the entire island was quiet. Which is normal for an island full of deadly trained assassins. However, that night was marked by an eerie silence that Damian had never experienced before.

Perhaps it was the nerves of knowing he would meet his father the following day. It was times like these that made him thankful that the twins shared a room for whatever reason.

The 8-year-old boy props up his elbow to get a better view of his brother lying in bed across the room. He knew the other youth was having difficulties sleeping, just like he was.

Damian breaks the silence with a snort. “Those plebeians loved you tonight, the perfect shining Bruce once again…being perfect,” lampoons Damian.

The boy hears sheets shuffling. His brother is now also propping up his elbow.

“I crashed a plane full of people to kill the president of a country, and you bested Mother in a fight. We both accomplished something the other hasn’t. Stop bitching to me at 2 o'clock in fucking morning cause our grandfather’s minions think you suck as an heir.”

And with that soul-crushing statement from Bruce, the boy re-shuffles his sheets and unprops his elbow. “Also, your hair looked fucking stupid tonight. Did Mom style it for you? If so, never let her do that again. If you weren’t my brother, I’d kill you on principle alone.”

Damian blinks. There were a lot of things wrong with what his brother had just said to him. His acknowledgement of how their minions view Damian, mocking his hair, calling him a bitch at 2 in the morning, and lastly, the threat of murdering the heir to the demon head. However, there was only one part that caught Damian’s attention.

“You never bested Mother in a fight?”

Damian hears a sigh. “No.”

No one can blame the boy for the smile that quickly forms on his face. If they did, he’d kill them.

“Wipe that stupid smile from you-” starts his brother before the door to their chamber is kicked open. On the other side, their mother’s face is shown, wearing an expression neither of the boys had seen in their lives. Her body is covered in blood.

“Weapons, now,” demands their mother.

Neither of the boys thinks to question her. The twins move to grab their swords beside them and jump to her forefront. As soon as she sees them move in front of her, she looks over her shoulder before moving into the hallway.

The twins glance at each other before following their mother. This had never happened before. Deep down, Damian could feel the nauseating fear making itself at home in the pit of his stomach. He selfishly hoped that Bruce felt the same.

The fear in his chest only goes away when, instead of leading the boys to the back of the place, their mother takes a detour to the west wing of the palace. The further the trio ventured into the palace, the louder the noises around them became.

The dead bodies littered all around the hall.

The blood-stained carpet.

The sound of flesh being sliced

The low grunt of subordinates, he spent his days taking their last breath.

They just installed this carpet last month.

While stepping over the dead bodies on the floor, they come to a corner. Before Damian turns the corner, his brother grabs his shoulder and glances at his mother. As if having their own telepathic conversation, they both nod at each other. Damian shoves his brother’s hand off his shoulder. He dislikes it when they exclude him from things.

As if coming to a secret agreement, the two change their formation. Instead of Talia leading the group, Bruce moves to the front while Talia moves to the back, with Damian remaining in the middle. He always hated this formation.

His brother quickly glances back towards their mother before grabbing the side of the wall and attaching his feet to the wall. As he disappears, all Damian can hear is the sound of footsteps and the smell of metallic blood.

Rushing to follow his brother, the boy is met with the mutilated bodies of their attackers. He notes that they’re all wearing the standard clothing of the league, a rebellion he presumes.

Glancing towards the ceiling, he watches as his brother squats on the top. He’s also wearing the standard league uniform, the only difference being a green scarf around his neck, which is currently dangling right in front of him.

He wonders how it would feel to choke the other.

Ignoring his inner thoughts, the 8-year-old follows his mother to the end of the hall, where she starts to tap against the wall. The twins keep an eye on the hall to ensure their safety.

After less than a minute, the wall reveals a secret entrance. The woman looks back at both kids before grasping their shoulders and pushing them into the dark, secret passage. Once they're all inside, the wall closes behind them, and none of them looks back.

Bruce grabs a torch to his left. “Any names on whose leading this rebellion?” questions the boy as he starts to walk down the cave. “I bet my most vicious python that it’s fucking Cain.”

Not bothering to respond to his brother, Damian grabs the torch on the other side of the cave and starts to walk beside his brother. His night was already ruined; no need to further worsen his mood by speaking to his idiotic brother.

His mother answers. “Good guess, however, you're wrong. David has not betrayed us. It was Slade,” curses his mother as she leads them down the passage.

His brother lets out a sigh. “ Slade, of course, it’s him who betrayed us. Why the hell did Father ever let him join the league? I’ll never know.”

“Has grandfather made it to the checkpoint?” interrupts Damian.

His mother clenches her hands. “No…fathe-your grandfather has..died.”

Both boys pause as they look up to their mother.

“What do you mean, grandfather has died!”

“This means you're next in charge?”

Both boys question at the same time.

Not stopping the talk, their mother continues navigating the passage. “Father is dead, I know, I say that bastard decapitate him myself. And yes, Bruce, I am currently in charge. The remaining members have been instructed to ensure our safety as we make it to the checkpoint.”

“Now silence. Even the quietest of sounds can alert our enemies.”

And with that, she stops talking, she glances back at both of them before continuing to up her pace. The twins look at each other before they rush to catch up to her.

What a horrible night.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time they made it to the checkpoint, they were all covered in blood and had killed more than 3 times their league's annual quota. They would also have to create a different secret passage, since this one had collapsed, thanks to Bruce’s decision to bury his enemies, which, to him, was less time-consuming than stabbing them like normal league members.

At the checkpoint, they meet up with some of his father’s loyal members, who guide them to the already prepared submarine. Thanks to the collapse of the tunnel, most of the remaining resistance had come rushing to their location.

As their mother guides them onto the boat, they watch out of the corner of their eyes as remaining loyal followers rush to stop the incoming rebels. Out of the sea of green uniformed rebels, one individual stands out: A silver-haired man in an orange and black body suit.

Before the submarine shuts behind them, they can see the man beheading one of their soldiers, just like how he beheaded their grandfather.

Once the door shuts, they immediately take off. Hearing the confirmations that the boat has left the dock, their mother lets out a sigh. In a rare display of affection, their mother pulls them both into a hug.

“Thank Ra, neither of you was hurt,” murmurs their mother as she squeezes them tightly. Frozen in place, neither boys react in time to hug her back. Only once she pulls away do their tiny arms reach out for warmth. Both of them touch nothing but air.

Coming back to their senses, they drop their arms and begin to take in their surroundings.

Even when on the run, the league travels in luxury. The submarine was medium in size, and from the carpet to the furniture, one could tell that the cost alone exceeded millions.

“Go sit down, kid,” states his brother. Snapping him out of his assessment of the room.

“One of your wounds must have damaged your brain, dear brother. If anyone is a “kid” it would be you-,”

“Have connections with the League of Shadows been made? Judging by the number of rebels, I assume that bastard planned this years ago!” Interrupts Bruce, who turns to their mother to plan their next move.

As if believing every word to come out Damain’s mouth to be utterly useless.

Damain clicks his tongue. Deciding now isn’t the time to argue with his infuriating younger brother. He moves from his spot. Walking over to take a seat beside his mother. Once sat down, he folds his arms.

“Mother, if we meet up with the league of shadows now in at least a month's time, we can reclaim what has been lost,” pleads Bruce. “The longer this rebellion lasts, the heavier the damage will be towards our goals, everything i’v-we’ve done will be rendered useless!” Yells the ginger-haired boy as he kicks the chair on Damain’s left to the ground.

The chair shatters on impact.

Talia holds up her hand. “No.”

And with that, she stands up and calmly walks towards the command center.

Bruce chases after her. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN “No” WE WERE JUST KICKED FROM OUR HOME! FORCED TO RUN AWAY WITH OUR TAILS BETWEEN OUR LEGS, YOU EXPECT ME TO DO NOTHING?”Demands the boy.

“THE LEAGUE BELONGS TO THE AL GHUL, NO ONE ELSE. ANYONE WHO QUESTIONS THIS DIES.”

As if detonating an already lit fuse, their mother swiftly turns around, stalking towards her youngest.

“DO YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THIS. DO YOU THINK MY ENTIRE BODY ISN’T FILLED WITH VENGEANCE,” roars the brown skinned woman.

“THEN WHY ARE WE ON A BOAT, RUNNING AWAY INSTEAD OF FIGHTING, INSTEAD OF PLANNING OUT VENGEANCE YOU'RE TELLING US TO SIT DOWN! INSTEAD OF RUNNING AWAY WE SHOULD HAVE STAYED AND FOUGHT INSTEAD OF RUNNING LIKE COWARDS!” accuses the boy.

The boy swiftly walks towards his mother with his finger pointed towards her.

“IF WE HAD STAYED I COULD HAVE USED MY ABILITIES TO-”

“If your abilities were enough, we wouldn’t currently be on this boat evading capture,” coldly interrupts their mother.

As if stabbed by a dagger, the pale blue-eyed boy staggers back as his whole body shakes violently.

“I-I…”

Their mother glances over to Damain, who hasn’t spoken a word since the argument broke out. “I’m handing both of you over to your father. He will protect both of you. I won’t be joining you.”

She walks back towards the door. Signaling the conversation to be over. As one of the league members opens the door for her, she looks back towards Bruce, who is still violently shaking.

“While you two become stronger under your father, I’ll be working to crush Slade’s rebellion. Instead of worrying about this minor blip in our plans, work on becoming stronger.

The member shuts the door behind her.

As if the sound of the shut door frees him from his frozen state, the gingered boy lets out a roar before rushing to grab the nearest object, a table, and throws it on the ground. Once it shatters, he looks around frantically for something else to throw.

Sitting in the corner, Damain watches as his brother trashes the room in his anger.

He rolls his eyes as he sits back and goes over his mother's words. He was ecstatic to meet his father. He places little worry about the rebellion. If his mother said she was going to crush Slade’s rebellion, then she would obviously crush them.

“Tsk, stop destroying the room and come here. We need to lay down the rules for when we meet father.”