Chapter Text
Damian prided himself on his independence. At only eight years old, his talents as an assassin had surpassed even his mother’s expectations, and he surpassed a number of league members in skill. It was these skills that allowed him to be granted his first solo mission by his family: infiltrating the famous “Batfam” (a ridiculously cheesy term, in Damian’s opinion).
At first, the mission seemed like a stupidly easy one. Every member of this deranged “family” had a number of clear weaknesses to be exploited, and their skills were not nearly as impressive as the media painted them.
His father hadn’t been much of a surprise, he was weak and old and Damian was much more skilled than him anyways. He didn’t care that Wayne seemed to regard him as a disappointment, as that was clearly indicative of some kind of mental problem on his end rather than Damian’s own actions. Damian was comfortable around him, though. Bruce Wayne was a lot like his mother. Direct, full of criticism, and readily able to treat him as the threat he was. As far as Damian could tell, he was just a stupider version of his mother with a weird bat fixation.
Jason Todd was not too difficult for Damian to read. The man had, after all, once been a part of the league. He didn’t share in Wayne’s perplexing oath, and Damian respected the man’s dedication to maintaining his skills and lack of weaknesses (attachments). Tim Drake was an insufferable weakling whose brains somehow managed to keep him alive, despite Damian’s prayers. Stephanie Brown was far too bubbly for Damian to be around for more than one minute, and he’d reached a silent state of mutual respect with his fellow assassin Cassandra Cain.
The most difficult thing he’d encountered so far was his despicable “older brother,” Dick Grayson. Grayson, unlike his “siblings,” refused to let Damian be. He was intent on “helping him discover the joys of childhood” and “encouraging him to make friends [weaknesses]” and smothering Damian with unwanted affection at every turn. It was disturbing.
He’d never forget the eager look on Grayson’s face when they’d first met. The man had lowered himself to Damian’s height and smiled like Damian had solved world hunger before offering his hand to the boy. “Hey there, I’m Dick. What’s your name, buddy?”
“I know, Grayson, and don’t call me buddy.” Dick somehow managed to smile wider at Damian’s sneer. Damian’s glare grew sharper as he spit out his introduction, “tt, for a detective, it seems like you’re not great at doing research beforehand.” Damian huffed, “Damian. Damian Wayne.”
Grayson almost seemed to glow as he laughed and responded, “Well, it’s an honor, Damian Wayne.”