Work Text:
Damian felt irritated, and it was Richard’s fault. He had been invited by a classmate to a ‘casual hang-out’ of ‘coincidentally’ wealthy children in Metropolis. He held no interest in being forced to spend time with spoiled and self-important children spouting inane chatter, and he told Father as such. Richard had overheard, and insisted to Father the so-called benefits of Damian suffering his peers’ presence. Richard had convinced Father that the party was critical for their cover, and so he was forced to go.
Damian stood against the wall of the room, observing a few of his classmates along with the children from several wealthy families outside of Gotham when his attention was drawn to the gaudily-carved (who had decided that English heraldry was a good choice for double doors for a modern-style room?) entrance. A blond girl a couple years older than him was dragging her friend into the room by the arm.
Apparently she and her friend were foreigners. French it sounded from her friend’s complaints of not belonging and the blond’s own admonishments to not be a baby. Damian smirked as he overheard the whispered argument that as she was the successful designer MDC she did too belong in the “Rich Kids Club”. Well, if Richard was going to be insufferable and force him to go, then he was going to rub it in his older brother’s face that he met the mysterious designer before he did. Assuming of course, she was who she said she was.
He surreptitiously analyzed them both. He found at least the small signature of MDC on their clothes and the quality he would expect of the designer, as he also overheard the black-haired friend picking st her clothes and muttering what she would do differently next time.
While he was observing her, he found something about her face to be familiar, when he was struck by the resemblance to Father.
He approached the two girls and after subtly interrogating them, could not find any broader plot. Still, being thorough he surreptitiously acquired a strand of her hair in a discreet, sealed bag.
When he was finally brought home, he began sequencing the DNA from the hair.
“ Well,” he thought as he looked at the paternal match. “ Even if she wasn’t truly MDC, Bourgeois wasn’t lying about Dupain-Cheng deserving to be in the ‘Rich Kids Club’.”