Chapter Text
Damian walked along the Manor's grounds, throwing a stick for Titus to chase. He felt her presence immediately, he would recognize the blood lust that emanated from her anywhere. He stifled a groan, if only to maintain his dignity.
"Mother..." He didn't deign turn around. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" The sarcasm slipped into his voice, his disdain clear.
"Dami, Baby Bird..."
"Don't." He drawled. "You lost the right to call me that a long time ago." Dami, which translated to My Blood in Arabic. As far as he was concerned only his father had the right—not that he wanted anyone to call him that.
Talia didn't respond to his hostility, she simply sighed. "Relax...I'm only here to give you information."
"What could you possibly tell me, that we can't find out through our own means." He scoffed.
"It's important Damian."
"Fine. What?" He finally turned to face her, a deep scowl set on his face.
"I believe I've located your grandfathers ring—an heirloom that should have been passed down to you." She began, looking mildly uncomfortable. Which was strange for someone like Talia Al Ghul.
"I have no need for useless trinkets." He scoffed, just about ready to leave.
"It is not just a trinket." Talia insisted. "It is a ring containing immense power—one your grandfather used to...to make himself immortal."
Damian's brow twitched, the only sign that he was interested in the least. He didn't care for immortality, no, what he cared about was something that powerful landing in the wrong hands. His Grandfathers hands.
"Well?" He snapped.
"There are ancient records of it—a ring said to possess catastrophic power. It was lost before I was born, but I've been looking into it—it seems to have resurfaced somewhere in Paris. Recently however, it's moved on to Brazil."
"How are you tracking this thing? Why haven't you gotten ahold of it yourself?" He demanded.
"It is your birth right little bird." She whispered, "and we both know your Grandfather should not get his hands on it again." With that, she handed him a black leather bracelet with a green, emerald cut gem in the center.
"This will lead you to the ring. You must find and secure it Damian."
"How the hell is this supposed to lead me to—" when he looked up, she was gone.
"Tch." How typical.
Xoxo
"So wait, let me get this straight." Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, dark bags under his eyes. "We went out of our way to destroy the Lazarus pits—and now the object used to create them has resurfaced?"
"One of two, yes." Damian pursed his lips. "Apparently it was gifted to Grandfather, he then tracked down the second object only to lose it shortly after their creation."
"Maybe he thought they were destroyed and didn't bother looking for them." Dick suggested.
"No, he definitely looked." Jason grunted, uncomfortable memories from his time with the League resurfacing. "Just wasn't in a rush because he had what he wanted, the pits."
"And we took those away." Steph chimed in, unhelpfully.
"Your mother is probably trying to avoid Ra's regaining that power." Bruce stated very analytically. "She is trying to take over as head of the League, after all."
Thanks for stating the obvious. He scowled.
"Yes, Father. She also seems to deem it necessary that I be the one that finds it. Therefore I will fly to Brazil under the pretense of a..." his voice tightened as he said "Vacation."
"Oh! Count me in!" Steph jumped up immediately, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Me too, can't let you go it alone." Dick, ever the mother hen.
"I do not require assistance." Damian said flatly, "Regardless, I am not going alone. I do understand the need to blend in."
"Then—"
"I have enlisted the aid of Kent, that will suffice." He crossed his arms, clearly leaving no room for argument. "I have also already made preparations including flights, a temporary base of operations and adequate consumption locations. Therefore there is no room for any interference. I am only here to inform you that I will not be available for patrols until further notice."
"You will keep us updated on your findings." Bruce said in resignation, not a question—an order. "And if anything dangerous arises we will step in."
"If I must." Damian averted his gaze. Thankfully this marked the end of the conversation and he was able to slip away without further grievances.
Xoxo
By the next week Damian found himself walking through the airport, Jon Kent at his side. People stared, as they usually did—not because they recognized him as a Wayne, but because he was dressed to the nines while Jon was...Jon.
There was a flight attendant that had taken one look at him and "twisted" her ankle, falling into him. Unfortunately for her Damian had the reflexes of a cat—he jumped out of his seat before she could so much as touch his clothes. He'd nearly squished Jon in the process, but he was invulnerable so it was okay.
The flight attendant had ended up falling into an empty seat, hitting her arm quite hard on the arm rest. She'd been adequately embarrassed, mumbling apologies and pretending to limp away. Jon snickered at Damian's reaction—mentioning something about his feathers being ruffled. Haha, very funny.
Now they awaited a driver to take them to their hotel—Damian figured staying in the more touristy area would contribute to their cover. He didn't want the League catching on to what he was doing here. Especially not Ra's.
Jon looked around in amazement, blue eyes sparkling excitedly as he took in his surroundings. The boy could fly anywhere he wanted in seconds yet still somehow marveled at the simplest of scenery. Honestly...
He was snapped out of his thoughts as he felt someone bump into him—bump into him! How had he not sensed it? Avoided it? He blinked, a mixture of offended and flabbergasted as he turned to see what peasant had—
"Oh.My.God. I'm so sorry!" Squealed a petite woman, dark hair falling over her eyes as she bowed repeatedly. Her voice was pitched, panicked—almost like she was about to cry.
He'd opened his mouth to speak—probably about to say something sarcastic in irritation; when bluebell eyes, hopeful and sincere, shone through a set of thick, naturally curled lashes. His mind suddenly drew a blank, confusion settling into his brain like a dense fog blanketing the streets of Gotham in the morning.
"It's..." He cleared his throat. "It is fine. Are you alright?"
Jon looked at him like he'd sprouted another head. What? He was attempting to maintain his cover. Obviously.
"Yes you're fine—I mean I'm fine—I mean not fine like fine fine just—" her cheeks became flushed, voice going higher than he thought possible. "I'm okay!" She squeaked.
During this short interaction he takes note that though she is speaking English—she has a subtle accent. She must've deduced they were American and automatically switched to the language for their convenience—unless she was a spy and already knew that. Then again, she didn't quite blend in.
The girl blended in as much as he did, which meant—she did not. She didn't have a suitcase with her so she wasn't getting off the plane like them, perhaps picking up? Useless information, he would likely never see this woman again and she did not contribute to his investigation in any shape or form.
"Hey don't worry about it!" Jon chimed in, saving them from an awkward silence when Damian failed to respond. "Don't mind Dames here he—doesn't speak much."
She looked at Jon surprised, like she hadn't realized he was there. Then her gaze took on a cautious look, like she was seeing something no one else was. Strange in itself, usually people flocked to Jon and avoided Damian. Was she okay?
Then Jon too took on an odd expression, brows furrowing in confusion and glancing downward at her bag. Was he okay? Oh no, was this one of those...love at first sight things? Gods. Jon was the equivalent of an insufferable puppy when he had a crush. He did not need that on a mission.
"I see—sorry, again. I'm very clumsy." She said, plastering a surprisingly genuine smile on her face. Had he imagined that?
"No, no. It's okay." Jon chuckled, back to normal. Neither showed signs of attraction, perhaps he'd misread the interaction. "Are you picking someone up?" Jon inquired.
"Ah, yes." Her mood seemed to dim. "A few friends decided to join me on my indefinite vacation." She tested the word on her tongue, unsure if it was the right term.
Damian raised a brow, his questioning look being enough to prompt another answer from her.
"I needed to get away from Paris for a while, doesn't feel like the right time to go back yet." She shrugged, as if that explained anything at all.
"Cool! We're on vacation too." Jon replied excitedly. "I'm Jon, this grump over here is Damian."
"I am no such thing." He scoffed, but held out his hand after Jon shook hers. He felt a strange sensation in his chest as her hand made contact with his, gently clasping it in greeting.
Her own cheeks flushed, but there it was again. That look that said she saw something others didn't, except this time it was directed at him. It made him feel uneasy, however since she said nothing he merely pushed it away.
"My name is Marinette, it's lovely to meet you both." She smiled, a little less flustered this time.
She seemed about to say something when someone barreled into her, catching all three of them off guard.
"Mari!!" A brown haired woman with glasses exclaimed as she forced Marinette into a tight bear hug (against her will if her expression was anything to go by).
"Ah—Hey Alya." Marinette awkwardly pat her back before pulling away. "You're here early."
"Our flight left on time for once." The brunette grinned before looking over at Jon and Damian.
"Hey dudette!" A boy in glasses and a red hat walked over, slipping his arm around Alya's waist. Beside him walked a blonde who Damian was fairly certain he recognized.
"Marinette!" He breathed the name like it was a lifeline, his green eyes sparkling. The blonde seemed to be about to hold out his arms for a hug when Marinette quickly interrupted.
"Hey Nino, Adrien! It's been a while...haha—Oh! These are Damian and Jon." She took another step back, putting herself next to Damian. She sent him an apologetic look, a sheepish smile on her face.
Jon immediately greeted them, Damian simply nodded—still looking at Marinette. He couldn't quite figure her out, she wasn't trying to suck up to him—it was more like she was trying to avoid her friends. Which was something else he couldn't wrap his head around; if she didn't want their company why allow them to join her vacation?
The blonde one clearly recognized Damian, however he seemed more offput by the distance between him and the girl than by his identity. Damian now recognized him as Adrien Agreste, son of some minor fashion designer that was apparently popular in Paris—or had been at least. He'd fallen out of grace a few months ago—had been a bit of a scandal. (Only reason he knew about it.)
Eventually their driver showed up and they (thankfully) parted ways with the group of rambunctious teenagers. He did feel a shred of pity for the dark haired girl, she seemed like she didn't want to be there.
Unfortunately, neither noticed the way Damian's bracelet had begun to glow.
Xoxo
"There was something in her bag." Jon suddenly blurted as they lay in their respective beds.
"Yes, that is typically the purpose of a purse. To hold things." Damian raised a brow at him.
"No, like—something living. It gasped when I looked at it—"
"The bag?" Damian scoffed.
"No inside the bag." Jon looked stressed.
That was why he'd looked at her like that? So he hadn't developed a crush upon seeing her?
"Okay...what was it?"
"I don't know. I tried my x-ray vision on it and it looked like some weird red blob with black spots." Jon scratched his head, confused.
"We'll keep an eye out for her just in case but I doubt it's anything we need to investigate. It is not out of the ordinary for strange creatures to reside on Earth." Damian sighed, resigned.
"Okay..." Jon mumbled.