Chapter Text
It starts with a bird.
He’s supposed to be meeting up with Batman to assist with a drug-dealing case, swinging his way across the rooftops, when he hears the squawk of pain. Pausing, he leans over the edge of the roof, scanning the alleyway for signs of a threat or someone in need.
He doesn’t see anything at first and is about to dismiss it entirely when he hears the noise again. He drops down onto the fire escape, hoping to get a better look, and that’s when his eye catches on the mass of black feathers, almost completely hidden in the dark shadows between the buildings. The crow squawks again, but its struggle to free itself only injures it further.
Damian approaches it carefully, voice low and reassuring, hoping to calm the animal as he evaluates the best way to assist it. He shoves down the fury that sparks in his chest at the bundle of barbed wire discarded thoughtlessly on the ground, the crow’s leg starting to bleed from where it’s trapped in the coils. Its wings are damaged too, the spurs of the wire raking across them each time the bird tries to fly away.
“I am here to help you," Damian reassures it, as if he were talking to a scared civilian instead of a small bird.
Startlingly intelligent eyes turn to stare at him, and the bird stills, as if coming to a decision. He supposes, somewhat morbidly, that the bird has no way of knowing his intentions and is just resigning itself to its fate. Luckily for this little corvid, Damian is not a bloodthirsty predator. Not for animals, at least. Never for animals.
Damian has hurt a lot of people in his life, has not hesitated to kill in the past, and, despite his father’s effort, won’t hesitate to kill again if need be in the future. But Damian would rather harm himself a hundred times over before willingly hurting an animal.
“That’s it.” He continues softly, reaching out to tug at the wire. “Just a little longer and—“ he carefully pries the loop apart, allowing the bird to pull its leg free, hopping a few feet away. “There.”
He can’t prevent a small smile from working its way across his face, the satisfaction of a job well done warming in his chest. He grabs the roll of wire, placing it in a nearby dumpster instead, hoping that will keep it from harming anything else. When he turns back around, the bird is still there, watching him. Damian hopes that its wings aren’t too damaged for it to fly.
“You’re free now.” He states like the bird might not know, but the crow just continues to stare at him.
“Robin,” Batman’s voice echoes through his comm, pulling him away from his weird bird-staring contest. “Where are you?”
“I apologize. A civilian in need waylaid me.” He explains. Father doesn’t need to know that he didn’t mean a human one. “I’m on one route now. I should be there in approximately 5 minutes.”
When he looks back to where the bird had been, it’s gone.
___ ___ ___
The sound of loud, drunken yells draws his attention just a few nights later.
Damian normally does his best to avoid the drunk population of Gotham because they rarely have anything of use to offer, but he’s not too arrogant to think that he can avoid them altogether. Sometimes he will watch them to make sure they get home safely or to make sure they won’t cause harm to themselves or others, but talking with them is a waste of his time. He has actual criminals to catch, rogues to lock up, and cases to crack.
Really, he had debated not checking up on them at all, tired from a long night of fighting crime, until he heard a distinctly non-human yelp, followed by a high-pitched whine. Suddenly, it was like he was never tired at all, energy coursing through him as panic filled his veins, propelling him into action. He’s heard a sound like that before when having accidentally stepped on one of Titus’ paws, and given the hateful jeers that follow, he doubts these imbeciles are remorseful for their slights.
Sure enough, Damian spots a group of three large men who have cornered a dog, one of them throwing their bottle at it with a deranged laugh of delight. It misses the dog but instead shatters on the brick wall behind it, causing the dog to cower more.
The batarang is out of his hand before he even fully processes what he’s doing, hitting the man in the hand, causing him to stumble back in shock as Damian drops down between them and the dog. They barely have time to utter slurred exclamations of surprise before he attacks, not wanting to hear the filth they call an excuse for their reprehensible behavior. Whatever they say will surely only make him more upset.
They are laughably easy targets, uncoordinated and unbalanced, falling to the ground unconscious before Damian is ready to be done fighting them. He now has all this pent-up energy and aggression seething beneath his skin, with nowhere for it to go. He lets out a sharp growl, kicking one of the unconscious men, before turning back to where the dog had been.
As expected, it ran as soon as it had the opening, but Damian is disappointed all the same. He hopes the dog has someplace safe to go, with a family that will care for it, but he knows better than to linger on empty wishes. Instead, he propels himself back into the air and looks for another crime to intercept, hoping to quell some of the rage humming under his skin.
___ ___ ___
It’s raining when the cat approaches him.
Damian is not all that delighted to be out in the rain, and he doubts that the cat is either. Still, it rubs against his leg with a meow and carefully sniffs at his fingers when he reaches out to pet it. The cat purrs and lets him pet it for a bit before stepping back, looking up at him expectantly.
Damian, who had been planning on continuing his dreary patrol with a newfound high, looks down at it curiously. “What?” He questions gently. “I don’t have any food.” He says, though, that it is a rather good idea. If Father carries around sustenance for himself in his belt, why can’t Damian carry some of Titus’ kibble? It’s not as if it won’t go towards helping Gotham’s residents.
The cat walks a few more feet away, turning back to look at him and meowing again. “You want me to follow you?” He muses aloud.
He follows the cat cautiously, keeping his guard up even as the cat weaves through the nearby streets. Soon, they stop by a small storm drain, and the cat paws at it.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea to go down there.” He tells the cat. “Not only is it raining, but there are reports of Killer Croc activity again.”
Unsurprisingly, the cat does not react to his advice. It meows insistently, continuing to get soaked as the rainwater runs off into the grate. Damian crouches down, as if being eye level with the cat will somehow give it the ability to understand him. He opens his mouth to suggest the cat leave once more when he hears it. Barely over the sound of the rain, he hears a tiny, pitiful cry.
His head whips down to peer through the dim light into the storm drain, spotting three tiny kittens. Of course, the cat didn’t want help getting into the storm drain; it wanted help getting its kittens out. Immediately, Damian flattens himself to the ground, reaching into the drain with one hand and shining a light with the other. One by one, he scoops the soaking wet kittens out of the hole, placing them by what he can only assume is their mom.
The mother cat started licking at their wet fur immediately, sniffing them over to see if they’re okay. He places the last one on the ground, sitting up and clicking the light off, the pitiful kitten trio highlighted by the overhead streetlight. Damian worries as the tiny animals shiver, their shaking meows no longer muffled. The rain doesn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon, and the little things were going to freeze if they were left to their own devices.
Carefully, Damian scoops the three kittens up and hurries for the shelter of a nearby building’s overhang, ducking out of the rain. The mother cat races after him, and he quickly sets them down so the mom can see her kittens. He tries to dry them with his cape at first, but it is just as soaked as the rest of them, so he checks the nearby dumpsters for something useful.
After searching through three of them, he returns successfully with a few discarded pieces of clothing and a mostly dry cardboard box. He sets the box out of the rain, turning it on its side and settling the old clothes inside. He keeps one out, using it to dry the kittens, placing them one by one inside the new den. Finally, he turns to the mother, drying her carefully as well. She meows, licking him appreciatively before going into the box, curling around her babies.
Satisfied, Damian leaves them to rest.
___ ___ ___
Damian drops down to stop a mugging, knocking out the pitiful excuse for a thief with embarrassing ease.
Why even bother to be a criminal in Gotham if you can’t at least hold your own against one of the Bats? With a huff, he turns to look over the victim, handing them back their things. “Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yeah, that fucker just got the drop on me.” They say, seeming slightly embarrassed.
“You are unharmed?” he reiterates more clearly, and they nod. Damian is about to offer to walk them home when a noise echoes from deeper down in the alleyway. He exchanges a glance with the victim, who seems just as confused as him. The clanging noise rings out once more. “Are you able to get yourself home safely?”
“Yeah, no problem.” They reassure. “Thanks for the help.”
Damian watches them hurry away before creeping further down into the alley, hand ready to draw his weapon. The source of the noise seems to be from an industrial-sized dumpster, like something inside is banging against the walls. He wonders who—or what—is stuck inside. Careful in case this is a trap, he opens the lid of the container, waiting for something to spring out at him. When nothing does, he casts a wary glance around the alleyway before peering inside.
He can’t help but let out a small laugh of relief when he spots a raccoon at the bottom of the mostly empty bin, seemingly frozen in place as light streams in the open top. He wonders if the commotion from the mugging startled it, causing the container to shift and the lid to fall shut. When Damian makes no motion to move, the raccoon starts trying to scramble up the edges of the dumpster, only to find no purchase on the smooth metal walls. It seems the lack of trash in the container means the creature is also having trouble getting back out.
Damian carefully reaches in, grabbing one of the larger pieces of cardboard and propping it against the wall like a ramp. He takes a few steps back, and a few minutes later, he is rewarded with the raccoon popping up over the side, dropping to the ground, and scurrying away. He watches it run past the mugger from earlier and remembers he was going to call that in before he was distracted.
All in a day's work, he supposes.
___ ___ ___
It takes 3 months of him carrying kibble around for him to be able to use it.
Damian has hidden himself from the view of the street behind a dumpster, bandaging a cut on his arm. One of the goons they were fighting had gotten in a lucky shot, he thinks to himself in annoyance, but he refuses to retire for the night so early over such a small wound. Father will be upset about it later for hiding it from him, and Richard will be upset that he was hurt in the first place, but Damian does not want their fussing, not now. He will report the injury, just later, so really, they can’t be that mad. Maybe if he plays it right, he can pretend he got it near the end of patrol, and they won’t be as upset.
As it is, he’s focused on bandaging his arm and watching out for any of his fellow bats, so he doesn’t notice the creature by his side until it bumps against his belt. He jumps at the intrusion, and the fox jerks back, eyeing him warily.
“Sorry to startle you.” Damian apologizes softly and is careful to hold himself still.
The fox approaches again, more cautiously, but seeming unable to keep itself away. Damian watches it curiously, wondering what it could want from him. Perhaps it is cold and is seeking out his body heat? Instead, the fox noses at his belt again, sniffing around the pouch he keeps the kibble in. The fox isn’t cold; it's hungry.
Damian shifts a little, and the fox darts back again.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he promises. “I just have to move to access the food.” He unzips the pouch and pulls a handful out, tossing it gently towards the fox. “There you go. It’s all yours.”
The fox creeps forward, sniffing at the dry pellets, taking a few in its mouth. It goes a few feet away, crunching them in its mouth, continuing to watch Damian. When he doesn’t make any move to grab the fox or otherwise mess with it, the fox trots back over, snatching up more of the kibble. Damian watches patiently as the fox finishes the scattered food with ravenous delight. He wonders about the size of the fox, given that it seems so small up close, though it seems like it must be malnourished if it's willing to risk approaching a human for food.
When the fox is done, it looks up at him expectantly, as if it can smell the food he still has. Trying to move as little and as slowly as possible, Damian throws another handful, but the fox is unbothered this time, eager for another bite. This continues until Damian is out of kibble and holds up his hand as if to show he has no more.
The fox sniffs at him, but upon finding nothing, darts off into the night.
___ ___ ___
The crow finds him again first.
Father is off-world, and his idiot siblings have taken this as the perfect time to get kidnapped. It’s up to him to find them, and so far, he is having little success. The crow lands on the fence in front of him, causing Damian to pause. It’s the same crow as before, he can tell, because there is a scar on its left leg in the same place the other had been trapped. It hops closer and caws at him.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot stop to help you. I need to find my brothers.” He explains, pushing past it. He hears the sound of wings, and suddenly he feels a weight on his shoulder. The crow caws against him, quieter, but right into his ear. Damian winces. “Fine, you may join me if you are quiet.” The crow ruffles its feathers but says nothing else.
Next is the cat.
He knows it’s the same cat, because its calico pattern is unique, and she rubs up against his leg with no fear, purring excitedly. Damian stares down at her, confused, but pets her anyway. “What is going on?” He asks, but the cat darts away, looking back at him. Oh, he knows this game. “Where are we going?” He looks at the crow on his shoulder, but it just clicks its beak, and Damian follows after the cat.
Then there is the fox.
Damian has no real way of knowing whether or not this is the same fox, but he can only assume it is. The fox chatters at him, darting around his legs. “What do you know that I do not?” He asks the fox. The fox simply glances at the cat, a few feet ahead, and Damian continues following her, the fox trotting happily alongside him.
They don’t even stop when the dog joins them.
The fox yips and the dog barks, joining their stride. He is glad to see the dog is doing well and that it does not seem afraid of him. They eventually stop, but Damian doesn’t know why. It’s obvious the others are waiting for something, so he waits too. Then, there’s a noise, a familiar rustling of the dumpster, and a raccoon pops out.
When the raccoon drops his brother's tracker at his feet, he realizes they are trying to help.
“Do you know where they are?” He asks, picking it up and turning it over in his hands.
The dog leans forward, pressing his nose into his palm, sniffing the device. The fox scrabbles at his legs, and he bends down so the others can nose at it as well. The dog sniffs around for a moment before darting off, and Damian launches himself after it. They must be a sight, the group of them racing through the street, but Damian doesn’t mind, not if it means getting to his brothers before it is too late.
Finally, the dog stops in front of an empty-looking building, bricks decaying on the edges. It looks empty, but the cat hisses and the fox’s fur stands on end, so Damian knows there is more to that. “Thank you,” Damian says, patting each one gently. “Your assistance was instrumental.”
He turns, starting to head towards the door, when he realizes they are still following him. He stops, turning back. “Get out of here,” he prompts. “This will be unsafe.”
The crow squawks in his ear, as if to protest.
“Fine,” Damian sulks. “But be careful.”
He opens the door, and they sneak inside, wandering through dimly lit hallways. The dog leads, obviously having caught some kind of scent, but it doesn’t take long for them to be noticed.
“It’s Robin!” One of the men shouts, and Damian draws his weapon as the dog leaps towards the man with a growl. The crow flies off his shoulder as Damian attacks, dodging out of harm's way. The cat darts forward, weaving through the men, and the fox barks, scratching at what it can find. The raccoon launches towards one of the men, clawing at their hand and gnawing on their fingers in attempts to get them to drop their weapon.
They fall one by one, groaning in pain on the ground, splattered with blood. The dog seems particularly satisfied, prowling forward as if looking for more challengers. The cat’s meow echoes from down the hall, and Damian races towards it, wondering if she has found anything, when more people come charging towards them. Damian plants his feet, ready to fight again, but the dog nudges him away before throwing itself towards the fray. The fox and raccoon follow after it, and the cat meows more insistently.
Torn, Damian lingers for a few moments longer but ultimately turns back towards the cat. He has trusted the animals so far, and it has done him well, so he must continue to do so. The cat races towards the end of the hall and quietly pushes open one of the doors, just wide enough for her to go inside. Damian pauses, stilling himself as he listens for people inside. There is some movement, so he risks a glance, eyes catching on to not only his three brothers but also two men with guns guarding them.
They look nervous, and Damian grins.
He slides through the door, keeping to the shadows and debating his best move, when suddenly, a voice speaks from the darkness above.
“Beware, beware,” the crow echoes, its croaky warning drifting down from where Damian sees it perched in the rafters.
So that’s where it went.
The men with guns shift, looking around for the source of the voice, but are unable to find anything. “What the fuck is going on out there?” One of them asks, but no one knows.
“The Demon,” the crow continues. “Beware, beware.”
Well, there’s no better time for an entrance.
Damian emerges from the shadows and watches in delight as horror spreads across the guards' faces. The crow dives down at them as Damian attacks, and they are incapacitated with ease. The crow settles itself back on his shoulder, preening his hair as he approaches his brothers.
“What the fuck?” Todd echoes, and Damian can feel his disbelief, even through his mask.
“It pays to have friends in high places,” Damian says, as if that explains anything.
The door swings open wider, and he prepares for another attack, but it’s just the others. The dog trots up to him, tongue hanging happily out of its mouth, and Damian wipes at the blood in its fur. “Mission accomplished?” He asks as the fox and raccoon wander past him, investigating his brothers. The dog nuzzles his hand, and he takes it as a yes.
He turns back to his brothers and finds that the raccoon is gnawing at Richard’s bonds, the fox has fascinated itself with Todd’s shoelaces, and the cat is in Drake’s lap, front paws resting on his shoulders so it can lick at its hair.
“You are injured,” He notes, approaching Drake to find dried blood at his hairline.
“I’m fine,” Drake whines. “Get your pet off me.”
“Not my fault, she feels the need to treat you like one of her unruly kittens. Perhaps if you had remained uninjured, she would not have had to treat you like the child you are.” He says as he cuts the ropes, freeing him. Drake goes to stand, but Damian pushes him back down. “Stay. You might have a concussion.”
Drake whines but doesn’t try to get up again. Damian turns to Todd and Richard, but they are already free and are standing on their feet. Richard comes over to Drake, checking him over.
“So what’s with the zoo?” Todd asks as Richard fusses.
“I have helped them in the past, so they decided to assist me when I required it.”
“Your kid is a Disney princess, Goldie.”
Richard turns back to look at them with a grin as Damian huffs. “They grow up so fast. One day they’re taking their first steps, the next they’re amassing their animal army.”
"You didn't even see my first steps." Damian points out flatly.
"No, but I'm sure Talia has a video of them somewhere."
“Don’t think this distracts me from the fact you’re hurt,” Damian warns, eyeing the stiff way Richard holds himself.
Drake’s eyes narrow, evaluatingly. “You said you didn’t get hit.”
“I didn’t,” Richard reassures. “Just a little stiff from being tied up, is all.”
“You hurt your shoulder again, didn’t you?” Todd accuses.
“Yeah, well, you’re limping, so don’t act like I’m the only one hiding something.” Richard shoots back, the cat hopping down as he helps Drake to his feet, leaning him against his noninjured side.
“So you’re all imbeciles.” Damian cuts in. “This is nothing new. Let’s leave before anyone else can arrive. Pennyworth will have enough lectures for all of you when we get back to the cave.”
“Alright, Snow White,” Todd says. “Lead the way.”