Chapter Text
He frowned as he approached the woman, stalking forward with his suspicions raised. The air was crisp and autumnal, fitting for the situation at hand. He had managed to finally corner her in an alleyway after chasing her down a few streets.
She was clutching an old book to her chest, and her eyes were wide in an owlish manner with her hair more like a mane enveloping her face. She was rather gaunt, and he was mildly surprised she still managed to run so far in clearly poor physical condition. He raised an eyebrow at this but continued forward, annoyed for her to have dragged the process out for so long.
He’d been out patrolling when he’d seen her lurking in a side street. Usually, he wouldn’t have bothered to stop, but there was something off about her that he could not place. She had been swaying in place, looking around as if afraid someone would catch her. It was all rather unnerving. This feeling was intensified as he observed her leaf through her book, muttering to herself and then pointing her hand at a man passing by. He froze the very same second, one foot raised to take a step in a manner like a statue.
She seemed to light up at this and hurriedly snapped her tome shut to likely make her escape. The woman was clearly some sort of magic user and was decidedly not using her powers appropriately. He sighed to himself, knowing he’d need to report this immediately. Her appearance spelled trouble for the rest of Gotham.
He raised his hand to his comm as he began to walk along rooftops, trailing her silently.
“I believe I have found a magic user. She seems to be alone, and casting some sort of spell on others.”
There’s a crackle over the comm as his father replies.
“ Do not engage unless necessary, I am coming to your location now.”
Damian nodded, though the action he realized was not exactly an audible response. It was only he and his father on the comm that night. Tim was on a mission with the Titans, Cass was off-world, Dick was in Blüdhaven and while Jason was in the city he was not inclined to interact with the father-son duo. Even Barbara was not online as she and Steph were working on some sort of case together, which involved a lot of files and computer work.
He was grateful to have no part in any of that. But it was quieter than he’s used to, no one blabbering in his ear about some inane subject.
He quickly reached up to press his comm.
“Affirmative. I am following her currently, I will give updates if the situation changes.”
His father grunted a noise of assent, and Damian was left to continue keeping pace with the woman below. Her grip on the book was fierce, and she had placed it carefully in a leather bag she had secured around her upper body. She was covered in dust, in a manner suggesting she hadn’t been able to clean herself in quite some time. It was all rather curious, and he noted this as he continued forward.
He did not desire to break his father's orders, as the punishment would surely not be worth the risk. He didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with magic users as it was, so backup was not so terrible in his current situation. That did not mean he was entirely opposed to engaging, as the thought ran through his head as he observed the woman come to another stop before pulling out her book again. His eyes narrowed as she once more hastily looked behind her before peering around a corner.
There was a person in a hoodie hurriedly walking down the street, no doubt some civilian who had left a location a bit too late in the night for adequate safety. His frown deepened as the woman raised her hand, pointing it once more at this new person. There didn’t seem to be any motive, it was as if the woman was testing out her abilities. In that split second, as she opened her mouth to speak, he grappled forward, landing in front of her.
“What are you attempting?” He growled, glaring the women down in his most intimidating manner.
It appeared to work too well, as the woman stumbled back, shaking like a leaf as her eyes widened. She stuffed the book once more into her bag, her stare never leaving him.
“I asked you a question,” he continued. She didn’t bother to respond, and he scowled as she turned her head behind her, noticing the alley had multiple side streets connected. His hands twitched as she hurriedly turned her feet and sprinted.
He groaned, glaring at the woman as he picked up his own feet and made chase.
“I had to engage the magic user as she made an intent to curse another civilian. I am in pursuit.” He ran as he spoke, his speech not interrupted by any heavy breathing whatsoever.
It was silent over the comms, and he could almost physically feel the dissatisfaction of his father.
“ Be careful. Stay a safe distance.”
The woman hadn’t seemed in any shape or form to be athletic, but she was rather lanky and had a runner's build of sorts. He heard her muttering to herself before she picked up the pace once more, at a rate that was decidedly not humanly possible.
He cursed to himself before snatching his grappling hook from his belt and taking to the rooftops. He always loved the way he could fly through the air. Perhaps the freedom it gave was similar to the wings of a bird.
The chase turned in his favor then, as with his rooftop view and superior knowledge of the layout of Gotham, he was always one step ahead of the woman. She sprinted still, but seemed to be losing stamina as she slowed considerably over the next couple of minutes. The spell seemed not to have improved her lung capacity.
Luck seemed to continue to be on his side as she made the fatal mistake of darting down a street with a dead end. She was panting as she ran, not noticing him grapple back down to ground level as she nearly ran face-first into a wall. She stopped her momentum with her hands and turned to look wildly at him. She was hunched over, breathing heavily as she fumbled with the clasps of her bag.
He took a step forward as he tested the waters. She didn’t seem to react well to this as she ripped the book out once more. From closer up, it seemed to have a sort of detailed etching in the leather of its cover. There were thorny vines leading to imagery of skulls, and it seemed rather medieval with a griffin drawn in the middle.
The older the magic, the more powerful it tended to be. He never heard much of new curses causing havoc, but rather the ancient vexes that had been cast by sorcerers millennia ago. The book was a bad omen in his mind. He was put on edge but took another tentative step.
“You have nowhere left to run. Your spell did not work as you seemed to have intended; give up. It is clear you’re out of your depth.”
His words did not seem to have much of an effect on the woman as she continued her actions. The book was hurriedly opened, its yellowed pages flipped through as she seemed to be searching for a specific part.
The situation confused him. She was not knowledgeable of the spells in the book, yet still had the capacity to use them quickly. He figured it best not to prolong any longer and rushed her. She didn’t look up as he ran, her hands flying as they stopped at a page and raised in the air. He was almost to her when she uttered an unintelligible incantation, her eyes flashing wholly white as he felt a rush of something.
He shielded his eyes as a bright flash of light lit up the dark alley. His body felt strange, a sort of stinging that quickly subsided. He lowered his hands in annoyance as he suddenly stumbled backward, tripping over his feet. His legs felt strangely weak, and he glared as the woman stood up and approached him, a taut smile overcoming her face.
“Hm.” She peered at him like he was some sort of experiment she’d orchestrated. “Try and speak.”
He scowled, the ground decidedly too hard as he felt some soreness in his limbs.
“Shut–”
All at once, a sharp pain in his leg distracted him. It felt like he’d been hit. He looked around wildly for the culprit. The woman hadn’t moved, not even opened her mouth, and yet the pain was undeniable. His brows shot up as he came to a sickening realization.
The woman laughed, a little too maniacally to suggest mental stability.
“Wonderful! I didn’t really think–” She cleared her throat, letting her excitement abate somewhat. “I wouldn’t attempt to talk if I were you. This spell is a doozy, I wasn’t even sure I had enough energy left to cast it! I surprise myself like that, though. Really, they should’ve known this would happen at some point.”
Her smile was smug and wide as she babbled while tapping his knee with her foot.
“You try and mention it to anyone,” she smirked, her eyes flashing white once more, “to put it simply, you won’t be able to. Past that, any words for that matter will result in physical punishment. That will teach you to talk back so freely. We wouldn’t want you spreading any gossip around, now would we?”
He hissed at her, almost like a cat, and her smile only grew. She smoothed the cover of her tome carefully before placing it back in her bag, snapping the clutch closed. She hummed to herself as she brushed some dust off her clothing and looked down at him once more.
“Stay out of my way, Robin, and I’ll lift the spell eventually.” She paused and let out a laugh. “Once your words hold no power, of course. So you may be a mute for a bit. I truly apologize for the inconvenience, but perhaps the change will be good for you, and rid you of that nasty mouth of yours. Might help you make some friends, though that may be a bit far-fetched.”
She stepped around him, and her shoes clicked behind him as she walked off. It was a circumstance of utmost embarrassment for himself. The criminal had managed to saunter away from him, not even injuring him gravely in the process. He had merely felt weak from her spell, and apparently, that was all that was necessary for him to be taken down.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Robin. ”
As his strength returned, he heard a light noise that he registered as someone he’d been dreading.
His father stepped around him to come into view, and he quickly stood up, ignoring how light-headed he felt doing so. His father had a slight frown as he scanned Damian for injuries. After finding nothing obvious, he let out a quiet exhale.
“Robin, what happened?”
Damian merely shrugged, trying to make his displeasure evident to avoid further questioning. He guessed physical gestures not to activate the spell, perhaps because they were so ambiguous, not always having meaning behind them.
His father sighed, rubbing at the exposed part of his chin.
“I take it that the magic user escaped?” His voice was gruff, and Damian couldn't help but shrink back slightly as he nodded. “Will this be a recurring issue? Because I can’t have you patrolling if you’re attempting to engage magic users alone. There are too many variables; it’s dangerous not only for you but for everyone around. Spells often don’t hit their target. Understood?”
He answered quickly, instinctively.
“Yes, I–”
He struggled to continue as he felt a sharp pain in his side as if someone had struck him. There was a break in his voice, and his father’s eyes narrowed at this. He had to stop himself from hunching in surprise. He hadn’t expected the injury to be quite so painful, and he wondered if it would leave some sort of evidence. It had seemed improbable that a spell so ridiculous would manage to best him, yet the pain he felt now was clear as day.
Whatever he had been hexed with seemed to be powerful. More so than would be expected by any normal sorcerer. She either was highly experienced or possessed too much magic for her own good, and Damian was leaning toward the latter. The woman had fled long ago, taking with her that dreaded spellbook. How she had acquired it was a mystery in itself, and he wondered absentmindedly if she was associated with some sort of organization. He ignored the thought when he considered the behavior she had displayed. She was disheveled, and there was a tension to her frame that suggested she was ready to bolt at any given moment
Not the behavior of someone with others backing them up.
“We are done for tonight,” his father said, turning his back to Damian. He was to follow, and he did so, attempting to ignore the newly formed bruise on his side.
He considered his options as he grappled through the night. She had stated that the curse would not let him explain the situation that had befallen him, but he was still allowed to speak in a sense. However, this would have to be done sparingly as there were more painful punishments for him if he needed to voice anything. He was not certain if writing would yield similar results and decided that would be his next course of action. Testing the limits and loopholes would be necessary to rectify the situation at hand.
First off would be finding the woman; where to start, however, was an answer that evaded him. He had no way of knowing if she would stay in Gotham, but it seemed likely. If she had ended up there, there had to be some sort of reason. The spell would have just been to cover her trail in a roundabout way. But the magic would surely be noticeable to other users. Hypothetically, he could contact one himself without saying why. However, it was possible that attempting contact may signal the spell again. Magic was fickle in that regard, and one of the many reasons that he and so many others in his family detested it to different degrees.
That brought him to his second issue, which was alerting his family.
He wasn’t certain how to go about it. The wording of the spell seemed rather detailed, but he needed to figure out some sort of workaround. Because not talking would raise suspicions, and be unhelpful if he wasn’t able to inform them. He decided on a middle ground option: he would only speak when necessary, otherwise, he would become quieter and resort to physical gestures to indicate his response. He just had to hope someone was able to track down the witch and he’d be able to force her into reversing the spell.
Otherwise, he may very well go silent for a rather long time.
The cave was practically empty when they arrived, only Alfred waiting for them with a slight frown on his face.
“Master Bruce, Master Damian. I heard about the magic user; are you two alright?” He scanned them as he spoke, obviously inspecting for any injuries he might need to sew up.
“We’re fine, Alfred. Only Damian met her.” He glanced at Damian as he spoke, as if realizing something. “Which reminds me, you need to draft up a report. We need to catch her as soon as possible. I’m going to check the cameras right now, see if we can’t pinpoint her location.”
He stalked off, leaving Alfred with Damian.
The butler sighed, looking between the father and son with a tinge of annoyance. He smiled tightly at Damian before moving toward the medbay.
“It is very late, Master Damian. I request you wait until tomorrow to write anything or, at the very least, only create an outline.”
He nodded, rubbing at his bruising absentmindedly. For some reason, he was tired. They’d patrolled longer than usual, as it was a weekend, but normally the lack of sleep would not get to him so. Perhaps the spell had weakened him more than he had previously thought.
Damian quickly changed out of his uniform. He waved Alfred goodnight as he made his way to his room. The hallways were eerily silent, a fact that had at one point put him on edge, now giving a sort of comfort in the normalcy.
His door was half open, and Titus padded out, his tail wagging at an inconceivable rate. Damian let a small smile overtake his face as he reached down to pet his faithful companion. He opened his mouth to apologize for waking him at such an ungodly hour, but thought better of it. He still wasn’t certain if being alone would activate the spell.
He took a cursory glance around to make sure he was alone and opened his mouth.
“Titus,” he whispered, and a sudden burst of pain flared from his arm. He scowled at the confirmation: he truly would not be able to utter a single sound. He found himself wondering if anyone would notice before the spell was up. It seemed unlikely; there were often stretches where contact was limited between him and his family. Normally, it is not born from necessity but rather strife. And perhaps strife would bleed from this.
He hoped not.
Titus laid down on Damian’s bed, where he’d undoubtedly been sleeping before, as Damian stepped over to his desk. He grabbed a few pieces of paper and pulled out a pen from a drawer. He sat down and hovered the pen over the paper, deciding what was imperative. There was a rush of excitement as he realized what this could mean.
Perhaps, he could write what had occurred. And then show it to his father. It would be a tedious method, but better than the alternative of trying to communicate while being pummeled by an unseen force. He wasn’t certain if the pain would escalate and was not inclined to test it just yet. That would mean he planned for this to last a while. Longer than it needed to.
He put the ink on the paper and wrote down the word “witch” in shaky print. He winced as a new bruise began to form, right on his shoulder. Damian couldn’t help but deflate as the ache thrummed through his body.
How a spell had such control, he did not know. It seemed to actually be able to recognize when his communication went past a simple yes or no. He figured that sign language would probably set off the spell, as it was a more nuanced form of communication than a simple nod, but he attempted to sign his name all the same.
He got to the last letter before the pain began, and he sighed as he lay down on his bed. Titus burrowed into his side as Damian glanced over, his large eyes bearing into Damian’s own. He pulled Titus closer, permitting himself a bit of comfort as he attempted to fall asleep.
This would be more difficult than he’d first imagined.