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The mission was supposed to be straightforward. They had the upper hand, as always. But somewhere between the crumbling ledge of Gotham’s latest half-finished skyscraper and the incoming backup, chaos took over. And that chaos? His name was Damian Wayne.
"Robin!" Dick’s voice cut through the air as Damian's footing slipped on the cracked beam.
“I don’t need—” Damian started, but gravity won the argument. His legs gave out, and he was freefalling before anyone could blink.
“Damian!” Tim yelled, sprinting toward the edge.
Jason, leaning against his bike on the adjacent rooftop, immediately dropped his coffee. “Oh, for fu—get outta the way, Tim!” He launched himself forward without a second thought.
Barbara’s voice came through their comms. “Nightwing, you’re the closest! Catch him!”
“I’m trying!” Dick jumped off his perch, aiming straight for his plummeting little brother.
“No one else touch him!” Bruce barked in their ears.
But when it comes to rescuing their youngest, coordination wasn’t exactly the Bats’ strong suit.
Tim leaped a second too late and ended up colliding mid-air with Dick, who groaned, “Tim! What the—!”
“Out of my way!” Jason growled, somehow managing to tangle himself in Dick’s grappling line.
“Guys! Can we not—”
“Move it, amateurs!” Steph’s voice rang out as she zipped in from below, but before she could reach Damian, Cass appeared out of nowhere, pushing off a beam to grab him.
They were all converging now, like some tragic, winged domino effect. Tim elbowed Jason, who accidentally shoved Steph, who ended up slamming into Dick. Cass barely dodged, but even she couldn’t prevent the chain reaction that sent all of them spiraling.
And Damian?
Timing it perfectly, Damian flicked his grappling gun from his belt and shot it toward a nearby crane. The line went taut, jerking him sharply just before he could meet the ground.
For a split second, he hung there in the air, his feet dangling a meter above the pavement. Before the motion had even stopped, an unexpected force tugged on the line. Damian blinked.
He rolled onto the ground before it hit him, landing softly with a thud. Damian stood up with ease, dusting his hands off. He looked calm, almost bored, as he turned his gaze upward.
What greeted him? Havoc.
Above, the family was an absolute mess. Dick and Tim were tangled in one another’s grappling lines, spinning awkwardly in the air. Jason, attempting to maneuver around them, accidentally kicked Steph’s line, causing her to lose her balance mid-swing and slam into a startled Cass.
“Move over!” Jason barked, trying to untangle himself from a rope around his arm.
“You move over!” Tim snapped back, one leg caught in Dick’s harness.
Cass, with her usual grace, almost managed to regain her footing—only for Steph to collide into her again.
“You all need to work on your situational awareness!” Steph yelled, clinging to Cass’ arm.
Below them, Damian crossed his arms, staring at the spectacle with a mixture of incredulity and faint amusement. They looked like a flock of incompetent birds flapping around, ropes swinging wildly.
Finally, with one sharp pull, the whole tangled mess came crashing down onto a conveniently placed pile of construction sand.
“Ow,” Jason groaned, sprawled out on his back.
“Watch your elbows!” Tim hissed, trying to pull his cape free from Steph’s boot.
“I had him!” Dick protested, pushing himself up on his elbows.
“You ‘had’ me in your way!” Tim shot back.
Cass, the only one to recover quickly, stood and glanced at Damian. Her head tilted slightly, as if asking, Why didn’t you let us save you?
Damian raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Are you all quite finished embarrassing yourselves?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, demon spawn.”
“For what?” Damian scoffed, gesturing to the grappling line dangling from his belt. “I saved myself.”
“You could’ve warned us!” Dick said, glaring up at him as he tried to detangle Tim’s grappling hook from his hair.
Damian’s lips twitched, almost forming a smirk. “And deprive myself of this?” He gestured broadly at their sorry state. “Not a chance.”
Steph groaned, flopping back onto the sand. “Please tell me no one recorded this?”
Barbara’s voice crackled through their comms, laughing. “Oh, I got the whole thing. Frame by frame.”
Jason sighed dramatically. “Great. Just great.”
Damian turned on his heel, calling to them over his shoulder. “Let me know when you’ve finished playing in the dirt.”
The others groaned, continuing to untangle themselves. “I swear, next time, we just let him fall,” Tim muttered.
“Perhaps next time,” Damian replied, pausing at the edge of the construction site. “I’ll fall somewhere less populated.”
“Or just not fall,” Bruce grumbled in everyone’s ear.
“No need for that,” Jason huffed, crossing his arms. “Next time, I’ll just push him myself.”
The family fell silent for a moment, watching Damian’s retreating figure like cats glaring at a laser pointer they couldn’t quite catch.
Jason finally sat up, brushing sand off his jacket with an air of annoyance. “Y’know, if he wasn’t already a pain in my ass, he’d be an even bigger one now.”
Steph, still sprawled out on the sand, shielded her eyes from the rising sun. “Remind me why we risk our lives for him again?”
“Family,” Cassandra said simply, dusting herself off with an effortless shrug.
“Barely,” Jason muttered. “I say we draw straws next time. Loser deals with him.”
Tim rolled his eyes, shaking the last of the sand from his hair. “We can’t just let him splatter. He’s still a kid.”
“Correction,” Damian said, suddenly reappearing beside them like a shadow. Everyone jumped, except Cassandra. “A highly skilled, perfectly capable member of this team who—” he paused, glancing at their collective state “—clearly operates at a level far above the rest of you.”
Steph threw a handful of sand at him. He sidestepped it with a smirk.
“Cocky little brat,” Jason muttered.
“Don’t waste energy on him,” Dick groaned, finally untangling himself from Tim’s grappling line. “Let’s just call this a learning experience.”
“Learning experience?” Steph snorted, pointing to her scuffed boots. “I learned nothing except that Tim’s cape smells like mildew.”
“Hey!” Tim snapped. “That’s from last week’s sewer mission. Not my fault.”
Damian leaned against a nearby pole, arms crossed. “And yet I’m the immature one,” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Tim, brushing himself off, pointed an accusing finger at Damian. “You’re lucky you’re my brother, or else I’d—”
“Trip over your own grappling line?” Damian cut in smoothly.
Cassandra’s soft laugh made Tim glare in her direction, but she simply shrugged, unbothered.
“Why do I even try?” Tim muttered, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Don’t,” Damian said, his tone so flat it bordered on condescending. “It’s clearly not your strong suit.”
Bruce’s gruff voice crackled in through the comms again, his patience long gone. “Everyone. Debrief. Now.”
Damian’s smirk widened ever so slightly as he turned toward the meeting point. He didn’t wait for the others to untangle themselves further, his voice echoing faintly as he walked away. “Do try to keep up this time.”
Jason’s eye twitched. “One day. Just one day. I’ll wipe that smug look off his face.”
“Get in line,” Steph mumbled, dragging herself to her feet.
Cass, brushing the last of the sand from her knees, simply smiled. “He’s not wrong,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Traitor,” Tim muttered, limping after them, his pride—and his grappling gun—now worse for wear.