Chapter Text
Haly’s Circus - 9 Years Ago
“Richard John Grayson! What did I say about cotton candy before the show?”
Dick ducks his head, grinning, but still shoves another large handful of the sugary cloud into his mouth. “Sorry, Momma,” he says, not really sorry at all.
“John! Tell your son to stop eating sugar before we need to perform!” Mary snaps, but is clearly trying hard to keep the grin from forming.
“Dick, stop eating sugar before we perform!” John says, though his voice is muffled.
“John!” Mary turns to where her husband sits on the other side of the room, shoving popcorn in his mouth. “You boys,” she mutters, shaking her head. “What did I say?”
“You said no sugar. Popcorn is salty,” John says in his defense.
Dick’s grin widens and he backflips towards his father and grabs a handful of popcorn.
“Hey! Mary, tell your son to stop stealing my popcorn.”
Mary scoffs and turns to exit their dressing room.
“Hey, Momma, what’s that in your pocket?” Mary freezes before spinning on her heels.
“Nothing, little Robin,” she says through clenched teeth.
John lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Is that chocolate I see?”
“No! It’s… it’s for later!” She begins to back out slowly. John rises to his feet next to Dick.
“Later, as in, right before we perform?” Dick asks.
There’s a long, tense silence before they all burst out into laughter.
“Alright,” Mary says once they’ve all regained their breaths. “Just this one time, we can eat all the candy and popcorn we want before the show.”
“Eat like today is our last!” John raises his popcorn bucket like a glass.
“Eat like today is our last!” Dick repeats, holding up his cotton candy.
Mary raises her chocolate bar. “Like today is our last!”
It is not their last. It won’t be.
Dick has seen and read a couple newspapers recently. Obviously, Batman is always in the headlines. He’s cool and all, but then there’s Mr. Freeze. Victor Fries. He cryogenically froze his wife so she could live long enough so he could find a cure to her disease.
So she could live.
She could live.
A small chance, but that’s better than no chance, right?
Now, why Mr. Freeze was near Haly’s Circus and decided to waltz in when he saw everyone run out, Dick never bothered to ask. After all, it was his business and they both decided to keep their personal lives personal.
But the point of the matter was that he was there.
And that Dick’s parents were still alive when they hit the ground.
Dick stood there as they were whispering their goodbyes. He wanted to cry. He tried to. But something in him was too broken to cry.
“Are you okay, kid?” A muffled voice asked. Dick looked up to see a giant freaking sci-fi looking suit and a pale blue man inside. “Look, I know what it’s like to lose people you love–”
“They’re not dead!” Dick bursts. And a genius plan formed in his head. “See? They… they’re still alive! It’s not their last. Please… please don’t let it be their last…” Why won’t the tears come?
The tin man lowers himself to one knee, putting his hands on Dick’s shoulders. “It’s too late for them. I’m sorry, kid.”
“No. No! You… your wife is still alive! Why–why can’t you do to them what you do for your wife? Keep them alive long enough until they can heal from their injuries?”
“That would require… a lot of medical…” Dick feels Freeze look him over. “What’s in it for me?”
“I… I can help you! I’m smart! I’m not, like, crazy smart, but I’m smarter than all of the other circus kids! And some adults! I can help you find a cure…. And I… I’m good at acrobatics! I can be your sidekick!” Dick is rambling, but he doesn't care. Maybe it makes up for not crying.
Dick doesn’t remember what happened next, but now, his parents are… like Nora Fries. He helps Freeze with many simple tasks, but is also able to double the pace he was working at for finding a cure. At least, that’s what he thinks.
But so far, he’s still alive and his parents are still alive. And that’s all that matters. It is not their last.
Meanwhile…
Bruce takes a big gulp of his much needed coffee and sits down to read the newspaper. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he bothers anymore. It’s always “Batman this” or “Bruce Wayne that.” But then again, he could gain some intel on potential adversaries. Whether it be actual villains or snobby news reporters.
Of course, Jack Ryder wrote about whether Batman was a hero or villain. Again. Definitely an adversary.
Bruce flips to the next page.
“What Comes With Freeze? Frostbite!”
He nearly spits out his coffee as he reads.
Freeze has a sidekick named Frostbite. No one seems to have a good picture of said sidekick, but people from the bank they robbed say he was around 4’5” and bounced around like a rabbit. His suit seemed to be black, blue, and bulletproof.
And he was definitely a kid.
What kind of person–supervillain or not–would recruit a kid to be their sidekick?
Crime Alley - 5 Years Ago
What’s for dinner, you might ask. Dumpster trash.
What was breakfast? Dumpster trash.
What was dinner last night? Guess. Just guess. Well, if you guessed dumpster trash, you were correct!
Jason hates the dumpster.
Can you guess why?
No?
Well, it’s always a gamble.
It could be fresh, heck, maybe still hot, or several days old, moldy and maggot ridden. There could be a whole bag full of leftover fries and maybe part of a burger or nothing at all.
You may also ask, why not find a job? Well, that’s a gamble too. Some people might hire a ten year old, some might not. If Jason is hired, would it be a good job or crappy? Would the employer be decent or be some sort of kidnapper… or worse?
Now that he’s thinking about it, Jason’s whole life is a gamble.
When he goes home: will his mom be the woman he knows and loves or will she be high, with the apartment smelling of smoke?
When he hangs out with some of the other kids in the Alley: do they actually have his back or will they put a knife in it one day? After all, every man is for himself.
When he simply walks home from searching for food: will he get home safe and sound or will he get jumped?
When he simply exists: will he live or will he die from some heart attack or freak accident?
When Jason isn’t worried about what number the dice will land on, he’s at the library. At least that’s a safe place. (Then again, that’s a gamble too.) His favorite books are Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist (he can somewhat relate), and several other classics. But lately, he’s been getting into some other genres. Dune is pretty good. Twilight is… something. The Maze Runner is amazing. And then there’s The Hunger Games.
Rich people leaving the poor to starve and force children to fight for their lives.
Sounds so much like Gotham.
After all, Frostbite and Batgirl are seen fighting each other every two weeks. And they are both definitely kids.
“May the odds be ever in your favor.”
Certainly a slogan Jason lives by.
Today the odds are not in his favor.
After not finding any dinner in any of the four dumpsters between the library and his apartment, he walks through the door, stomach growling, and is met with the overwhelming stench of smoke.
Two steps in and he finds his mom on the floor. She’s dead. It’s obvious. Jason has seen many people dead from overdose on the streets. Her eyes are rolled upwards, her skin already looks pale, and when he checks for a pulse, he finds none. He still crouches down and shakes her shoulders.
“Mom? Are… can you… wake up?” She doesn’t stir.
Jason sits on the floor, pulling his mom into his arms and holds onto her. He knew this day was coming. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
In the end, Jason leaves her. There is no way he could bury her and the odds of him calling the police were nonexistent since the foster system is worse than Arkham. But he knows that his dad will come home eventually and he could handle it.
But now Jason actually needs to find a place to stay. And it can’t be here. Not when his mom isn’t here too.
But he still takes a part of her with him. Her locket. A tiny golden heart on a chain with a picture of them as a family. Back when Jason was a baby and when she wasn’t taking drugs as often and when his dad was more present.
Jason has been dealt some terrible cards.
And now he really does need to find a job.
What are the odds?
The first two places didn’t want to hire a ten year old. The third was way too sketchy–even for Crime Alley. The fourth… was promising?
The Iceberg Lounge: run by Oswald Cobblepot aka The Penguin. The job was looking for a card dealer who was… good at shuffling. So in other words, a card cheat. Jason isn’t stupid. That is clearly what the Penguin is looking for.
“So you’re looking for a job…” the interviewer looks Jason over, clearly taking his age into account.
“Yes.” Jason pauses. “Sir.”
“Name?”
“Ja–James. Austen.”
“Age?”
“Sixteen.”
The interviewer’s brow furrows.
“Uh-huh. Now, why do you think you should be hired?”
Not knowing how to answer with words, Jason pulls out his mom’s old deck of cards and begins shuffling.Then he performs tricks, illusions, and even shows off some sleight of hand.
His mom had taught him how to do them before… before. At least now he can put the skills to good use.
Must’ve been really impressive because he was hired on the spot.
It’s been about three months and Jason hasn’t officially met Cobblepot yet–not that he really wants to.
His mom ended up in the newspaper. Yes, months later, she was found. Months. Well isn’t Willis great?
Everything is still a gamble, but now Jason can pull some strings.
Other employees begin calling him the Card Shark for how good he is. They would have to hire three really good people if they wanted to replace Jason. Not that he would ever leave or that they would ever fire him. Even though the Penguin’s goons are… well, goons, there is still a sense of a familial relationship within the Lounge. Not like close close, but like, cousin/second cousin close.
At least now, Jason doesn’t have to gamble about whether or not he has a decent place to sleep or enough food to eat. And he has a job that he likes well enough.
Instead of being the one to gamble, he’s the one who casts the dice.
The house always wins. Now the odds can be in his favor.
Meanwhile…
Bruce wishes he could get drunk tonight. But he promised Barbara he wouldn’t in case there was a massive Arkham breakout.
He is still very frustrated that he couldn’t get Freeze back in a cell, but since Frostbite joined him, Batman has been outskilled–even since he recruited Batgirl (yes, he knows what he said earlier about taking children as sidekicks. This is different.)
But enough of Batman, Bruce is at yet another gala. He would rather be on patrol.
Not listen to Janet Drake sing praises about how her son is the smartest child in Gotham–being eight years old and already in middle school.
Good for the kid, being that smart, but she’s been going on about it for the past three hours. Most of the other members of high society also seem to be annoyed.
Suddenly, a brilliant plan dawns on Bruce. “If you all would excuse me, I’ve had too much champagne.” He then walks off in the direction of the restroom. A blatant lie, that was. He’s been holding the same glass ever since he walked in, but none of these rich folk would notice. Though he feels as though someone has been watching him throughout the whole gala.
Bruce takes thirty minutes in the restroom before returning to the main room.
“And of course, my Timothy was smart enough to multiply in his head by age five.” Janet is practically shouting. Poor Timothy Drake is standing very uncomfortably by his mother’s side. Unfortunately, there is nothing Bruce can do except go the long way back to the very miserable party.
He passes several people whispering.
“Have you heard of the Shark?”
“King Shark? Who hasn’t?” Someone else asks.
“No! Not him! The Card Shark. At the Lounge.” Bruce freezes.
“What about him?”
“He’s good. Very good. If you want to actually gamble, go to any other dealer. The Card Shark could be blindfolded and still win any game. Most go to him just to see if they can beat him.”
“He sounds interesting. Is he hot?”
“No one’s seen his face. Or at least his whole face. He wears a mask on the lower half of his face–not the whole face so he can prove he’s not using mirrors or anything.”
“Even though he so clearly cheats?”
“It’s actually not proven. People just say he does because he always wins.”
“But what are the odds of always winning a game?”
So the Penguin has a new dealer in the Lounge, Bruce thinks, that won’t bring much trouble.
Drake Manor - 3 Years Ago
A. D. I. E. U.
That’s one of the best starts for the Wordle, right? Four vowels with the first word.
And lo and behold, yellow “a” and green “e.”
R. A. C. E. S.
That combination has some common letters and checks to see where the “a” would go.
Green “a” and green “s.” Score.
_ A _ E S
There are so many words like that. Sales. Males. Makes. Fakes. Takes. Tapes. Tames. Lanes. Lakes. Lates. Gates. Gapes.
There’s so many–too many–but it would take hours to go through all of the possibilities. The best play would be to put in a word with four consonants, but Tim needs to make this his last guess. He wants to get the word with as few guesses as he can make.
But he also doesn’t want to straight up guess.
Such a predicament.
It is easily solved when his alarm goes off. 8:00. An hour before the Bats patrol. Enough time for Tim to get ready. This time he’s really excited because there’s been a new addition: Stephanie Brown. Bruce Wayne’s ward and, of course, Spoiler.
Tim grabs his beloved camera before racing out. Earlier, he bought a new SD card just for this occasion. As he runs through Bristol, a thought occurs to him. Why does Batman only take girls as sidekicks? Is he against boys? Or has he not met one good enough to fight with him? Could I be his sidekick one day?
His thoughts pause when his stomach growls loudly. Oh, right. He hasn’t eaten a real meal in two days. Sure, he’s had a lot of coffee and a few protein bars, but right now he’s really hungry.
Tim checks his watch. 8:04. Plenty of time before the bats go out. Just a quick stop at a grocery store wouldn’t take long.
He goes through the map of Gotham he made in his head and locates the nearest store. Just a couple blocks away.
He picks out a granola bar. Okay, fine, stomach, stop yelling. He grabs three. His stomach keeps arguing. Tim groans and grabs a bag of chips and an energy drink. Nope, still not satisfied. Fine. A baguette is added to his collection of food. Don’t ask. He was just feeling like a baguette was worth eating while running on rooftops.
His stomach stops complaining.
Tim pays before running to his spot to take pictures, eating one of the protein bars on the way.
There’s still thirty five minutes until the bats patrol. Maybe he over-prepared.
Tim sits behind the chimney, out of sight, as he eats the chips and cracks open his energy drink.
Of course, that’s when he hears a loud clang in the alley below. Tim cautiously peers over the side of the building. Well what do you know? The Riddle is muttering a string of curses as he struggles to get up from the ground, using the dumpster he so clearly fell against as support.
“I knew I should’ve eaten before the heist.”
Okay, in all honesty, Batman is cool and all, but Tim has always admired the Riddler. He’s smart—maybe smarter than Batman and uses his wit and knowledge as a weapon. Kind of reminds Tim of himself.
So of course, Tim leaps from the building, baguette in hand.
“Excuse me, Mister Riddler sir, would you like my baguette?” Tim asks as politely as he could.
The Riddler takes a solid thirty seconds to stare at Tim. “What?”
“You said you hadn’t eaten. Would you like my baguette?”
Another quiet thirty seconds pass.
“Where’d you come from, kid? And where are your parents? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“So… is that a no? You don’t want the baguette?” Tim completely avoids the questions thrown at him.
“Kid… fine, I’ll take the baguette.”
Yet another thirty seconds of silence occurs.
“What are you doing out so late, kid?” The Riddler eventually asks.
“I was waiting… for Batman, Batgirl, and Spoiler,” Tim says shyly as he fiddles with his camera.
“You like the Bat?” The Riddler’s voice comes out flat.
“Yeah,” Tim admits.
“Then why’d you give me your baguette?”
Tim shrugs.
“By the looks of it, you need it more than I do,” The Riddler continues. “Kids like you should be eating more.”
Tim shrugs again.
Thirty more seconds go by.
“You wanna hear a riddle?” Tim suddenly bursts out.
The Riddler looks shocked for a split second. “Sure.”
“I wonder as I wander: where am I?
I shed tears, yet I cannot cry,
I trek, but cannot walk, swim, or fly,
I am born to die. Say, what am I?”
Thirty seconds pass.
Before a wide grin spreads across Nygma’s face. “A cloud! I’ll have to hand it to you, kid, that was a hard one.”
Tim can’t help but beam in the praise.
“Say, kid, what would you say to becoming my apprentice?”
“What?”
“Well, Batman has those two girls, Freeze has Frostbite, and word is getting around that even Penguin has a new favorite henchman.”
“So you have FOMO?”
“No! I just… think it’s smart to have a second–an apprentice. You’re smart. And it doesn’t seem as if you have parents.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
“Is that a yes?”
Tim thinks.
He weighs both sides.
On one hand, he would be working with a supervillain against Batman. On the other, the Riddler seems to care about him a lot more than Jack and Janet Drake and he might actually get to meet Batman one day–though on opposite sides of the field.
“Yes.”
Nygma swallows down the last of the baguette. “What’s your name?”
Tim could tell him the truth. Or he could tell a lie.
“Alvin Draper.”
Tim quickly adopts the moniker Charade. He helps lead the henchmen, create riddles and puzzles, and began a spy regime.
Now with at least a hundred different identities, Charade is able to obtain information on not only Batman, but every other villain in Gotham. And out of Gotham. The heroes too.
Of course, he knows the identities of Batman and all of the other heroes, but where would be the fun in announcing them to the world–even if he is a villain now?
Nygma thinks differently, but he doesn’t have to know that Tim knows their identities.
And… maybe Tim still looks up to Batman.
Not so much when he’s the receiver of a punch. Man, does the Bat hit hard?
Frankly, he’s surprised that they don’t know his identity with how much blood he loses during fights. At least he hasn’t lost an actual fight yet. His staff helps. Similar to Nygma’s cane, Charade has a bo-staff with the signature question mark on each end. Definitely helps keep the bats from getting too close… sometimes.
He helps make other weapons and devices that greatly aid in fights. Smoke bombs, flash bangs, grappling hooks, and more–all with the Riddler-question-mark theme.
Between the two of them, Charade is a lot better than Nygma when it comes to facing the bats head on and that’s saying something. They’re a lot better at escaping, now that he thinks about it. And making the bats go crazy with the number of riddles and puzzles and brain games they hide around Gotham.
Yeah. Way better than anything Jack and Janet Drake ever did.
On an unrelated note, their son, Timothy Jackson Drake disappeared and on one of the few days they were actually home, they too disappeared.
On another unrelated note, Tim puts on Charade’s mask and goes to one of the safehouses with a basement.
There, some completely random people are tied up.
“Drakes,” Charade greets them as he walks in.
They cry out through the gags.
“I know, I know: it’s been days since I last visited. Well that’s a lot more gracious than how you treated your son, Timothy. You would leave for months. I am a lot kinder than you.”
As he removes their gags and unties their hands so they can eat, he thinks back to his villainous monologue. Why would I say ‘I am a lot kinder than you?’ That doesn’t sound right. And gracious was not the right word.
“What have you done with our Timothy?” Janet asks through tears, breaking Charade from his thoughts.
“Oh, now you care. Don’t worry about him… he’s… elsewhere.” Charade is praying that his words sound extremely ominous. Like Tim had died or something.
It worked. Janet breaks down.
“Tick tock,” Charade says in a warning tone. “I’ll only be here for a few moments. This will be your last chance to eat before I leave. And you better hope and pray that I remember to come back to feed you.”
Both of them stiffen before shoving the food (a baguette and a bit of chicken) into their mouths.
Eventually, Charade ties them up and leaves.
Wow, being a villain is great, isn’t it?
Meanwhile…
So the Card Shark did end up becoming a problem. About a month after Bruce discovered the Shark’s existence, the Penguin got caught and sent to Arkham. Barely a day later, he was broken out. Somehow, the Shark managed to sneak in, past the guards, and free the Penguin without anyone noticing until morning.
Afterwards, he quickly rose to ranks within the Penguins’ schemes. He leads Penguin’s men in protecting shipments or distracting Batman while Cobblepot does other things.
Over the past few years, the Shark has been fighting hard against the bats and GCPD and continues to break Penguin out of Arkham. Until recently. In which he protects Cobblepot from ever going to Arkham. Batman was so close to knocking Penguin out, when a bullet penetrated through his armor. Through his armor. No normal gun can go through Batman’s armor. And, after further investigation, it was discovered that the sniper, the Shark, was several buildings away.
And he has no intel on who hides under the mask and hood. Who the Shark really is. Frostbite’s, on the other hand, was easy to find out. After all, he debuted after Freeze appeared at Haly’s Circus all those years ago, when the Flying Graysons…
Bruce wished he had been there. Not to witness John and Mary’s deaths, but to comfort the boy who lost his parents just like Bruce.
But enough wishful thinking.
Bruce straightens his back, wincing, since the bullet the Shark shot at him hit him in the ribs, and yawns.
This gala is quiet. Too quiet, Bruce thinks as he fights his eyelids from drifting shut. Usually, something would be keeping him wide awake.
Oh, yes, the Drakes. Jack Drake bragging about his wonderful corporation and Janet bragging about their son. But they’re not here today. Strange.
“I heard they’re in the Bahamas.” Of course, the gossipping rich people never let Bruce down when it comes to scandalous information.
“I heard they were in Norway.”
“The Drakes? I was told they were in Egypt.”
“Hey, don’t you work at Drake Industries? Do you know where they are?”
“Don’t look at me! They haven’t been in office in four months and don’t tell us where they go!”
“B?” Batgirl says through the comms, deterring Bruce from listening in on the conversation. “Riddler and Charade are at it again.”
Bruce suppresses a groan.
“Riddler is at the east bank while Charade is running something in the Narrows.”
Why is everyone suddenly getting a sidekick?
Bruce walks to a quiet corner of the room and whispers, “You and Spoiler go after Charade. I’ll find a way out of the gala and get Riddler. Also, the Drakes are missing. After we take care of Nygma and Charade, we’ll need to look for them.”
Batgirl groans. “The Drakes? Also, you know that they will escape? Again? Ever since this Charade guy appeared, Nygma hasn’t seen Arkham. Like how it is with Freeze and Penguin.”
“I know, but we can still try. Especially if they’re split up.”
Four hours later, the bats didn’t just lose Riddler and Charade, but they also lost their dignity.
The plan went very south.
And the media is now filled with pictures of the bats covered in pink glitter.
Of course, Spoiler’s only complaint was that it wasn’t purple.
Batman really hates these villains and their sidekicks.
Wayne Manor - 4 Months Ago
Damian failed.
One second, he was Heir to the Demon, and the next, he is seen as a waste of time and air.
One moment, he had everything, and the next, nothing.
It was a small mistake, yet it cost Damian his life and life’s purpose.
All because he could not kill his father.
He should have been able to, but he could not.
Why? Why could he not do it? He doesn’t even know the man–only that he sired Damian. So why did Damian hesitate and fail his mission? Why did he waste the ten years of his life?
Because not only is Batman searching for him, but so is the League.
The League, who wants his head.
Why is Damian so scared? He held his own against numerous assassins before he was five. He has faced opponents far scarier than Batman. He has even fought his mother and grandfather and won.
So why is he shaking, out of breath, and terrified?
“There!” A feminine voice shouts. Spoiler.
Damian is not surprised. The roof of his father’s house is not the greatest hiding spot, but he had to stop somewhere to catch his breath.
After all, he has been running for eight hours straight.
What a failure he is. He is used to running up mountains without stopping. Apparently he cannot run through a measly city.
Pathetic.
And now he is back to running with his father and father’s accomplices on his tail.
Wanted by no one and everyone at the same time.
One thing is starting to look up, though. Damian is (was?) an assassin and he is wearing dark clothing. The shadows seem to be the only thing that protect him.
“Where’d he go?”
“I thought he went this way!”
“Crap! Is that the League of Assassins?”
Damian feels his blood turn to ice.
He has never been this terrified in his life.
Suddenly, someone grabs his cloak and drags him backwards.
His heart leaps to his throat as he is taken from the shadows–the only comfort he now has (once had?).
Damian is pinned against a wall. His eyes are squeezed shut. He does not want to know who has him: Father or the League?
“What do we have here?” A voice coos. Not one he recognizes.
Damian suddenly remembers who he is: Damian al Ghul. Heir to the Demon (former?). Ibn al Xu’ffasch. Son of the Bat–by blood if not in spirit. Regardless of title, he is still a trained assassin. Damian grabs a knife and jabs upward, opening his eyes as he does so.
His captor dodges the attack and Damian knows who he is.
Jonathan Crane. Or most notably known as his father’s enemy, Scarecrow. The creator and user of fear gas and toxin.
He dons a sack-cloth mask with a frayed rope around his neck. Several needles extend from a device on his right hand which is connected to a bandolier with multiple canisters of fear toxin strapped across his chest.
“My, my. What a violent little thing you are,” Crane clicks his tongue.
“Get away from me,” Damian hisses.
“You are not scared?” Crane flexes the hand with the needles. “Ah, you are scared, but not of me? What are you scared of, little… hmm. What are you supposed to be?”
Assassin or bat?
“I fear nothing,” Damian draws his katana while sheathing the dagger.
But his hands are trembling.
“Well, I’m no Batman, but I think I can put context clues together. You’re afraid of those assassins that have been wandering Gotham recently.”
Damian can’t help but stiffen.
“I take it I am correct?”
“I fear nothing,” Damian repeats, but his voice wavers.
“Are you afraid of the Bat as well? He seems to be searching for someone.”
“No.”
Why is he not fighting? Has he truly forgotten everything he has spent his whole life learning?
“You know what, little… I’m going to go with terror. Little Terror, I will harbor you and train you in the ways of fear and you can help me as a lab assistant… or test subject if need be.”
This is certainly a new low. Choosing between death by the League, getting attacked by his father, or siding with his father’s enemy.
But fear makes the decision in the end.
The League still hasn’t given up on searching for Damian, but luckily Crane had several safehouses and who would expect the Heir to the Demon to side with the Scarecrow?
Batman has been forced to focus his attention elsewhere–to other villains and protecting Gotham. Especially since the League has been tearing it apart due to Damian’s disappearance.
Even though they’re out for his head, Damian still misses Mother. Perhaps she misses him as well?
The thought scares him: that she might not be worrying for her son. She cared for him, didn’t he?
But enough of that. In the last couple weeks he has been here, Damian has been helping Crane with a new formula, but they have yet to test it. It will come soon, no doubt. But perhaps Crane will find a civilian to use the new fear toxins.
There have been some circumstances in which one of his father’s sidekicks find a safehouse, but they do not find Damian. Instead, they find Terror.
Scarecrow made him adjust his assassin robes so that they look similar to his own, so Damian fashioned his mask to have the worn-and-torn look that Crane has. He altered some of Crane’s back up equipment so that it would fit him, though he still keeps his katana, daggers, and shurikens.
Terror is nothing like the assassins he grew up with or the Bat he shares blood with. He is the embodiment of fear.
The bats quickly learn to tread carefully around Terror. But sometimes, Damian wishes that they would rescue him. But would they?
Overall, the time spent with Crane is not the most enjoyable, but it is better than getting killed or beaten up.
Sometimes Damian wishes he had a normal life.
But what is a normal life?
Meanwhile…
After almost a month of the League terrorizing Gotham, Batman finally made a truce with Talia. He would help investigate where Ra’s missing apprentice went and she and the League would leave Gotham. Granted, he wasn’t too happy with tracking down a child for Ra’s, but he will do what he needs to in order to protect his city.
And he doesn’t actually have to put that much effort into looking for this kid. Frankly, he’s glad that he got away from the League.
On another note, there are way too many villains getting sidekicks.
First Freeze with Frostbite, then Penguin’s favorite henchman, the Shark, then Riddler and Charade, and now Barbara and Steph have found a kid with Scarecrow.
“I threw a batarang at Crane, but then out of nowhere, a kid jumped out and blocked it with a katana!” Barbara complains.
So, it seems Bruce has found the League’s lost apprentice. Gone from one villain organization and now onto another. But, there’s no evidence that this kid really is who the League is looking for.
But whoever he is–whoever all of these kids are, they must be stopped. And there shouldn’t be any more of these child soldiers. Ever.