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After rejoining Special Investigation Division One as an intern, Damian al Ghul Wayne was promoted directly to full Inspector, just as he had wished.
Strictly speaking, this was not a particularly reasonable matter.
A person who had already fallen in the line of duty, been archived, had a funeral held for him, and even had his personal information completely deleted from the Sybil System, suddenly returned in full force wearing a black uniform, with a silver-gray mechanical arm, rejoined Special Investigation Division One, and was immediately given the position.
No matter how one looked at it, this did not resemble normal procedure.
But Special Investigation Division One had never been a normal department to begin with.
Moreover, during Gotham’s post-disaster reconstruction, every division of the Special Police was severely short-staffed. Inspectors and Enforcers had suffered heavy casualties. Every team was so desperate that they almost wanted to drag police officers from neighboring cities over for temporary duty.
Against that background, an elite graduate who had achieved SS+ in both written and practical assessments, had firsthand experience with Sybil, Lazarus, the Joker, the Riddler, and the League of Assassins, and had personally returned alive, had almost no reason to be rejected.
Even if his résumé contained not a single true sentence. Even if he himself still could not be found in the identity system. Even if Commissioner Amanda, upon seeing the application form, fell silent for a full three minutes and finally only said one word:
“Fine.”
And so, Damian quite naturally took the position of Division One’s second Inspector, a position with predecessors but no successors.
As for explaining where he had gone for the past half year, how he had survived the fire, why he had not contacted his family, and why he had run off to a neighboring city to become a midnight DJ— That would probably take an entire afternoon.
And Damian did not currently have an afternoon to waste.
Because half of his medical loan remained unpaid. Because he still had many living costs to cover. Because daily maintenance for a mechanical arm was also expensive.
Because Damian needed to pay the debt.
So the next day, he directly picked up a Dominator and went out on a call with Dick and Jason.
It was neither a large nor small case.
Someone was causing trouble in District Four. The suspect was believed to have been dismissed from his workplace because of an abnormal Mental Index, and afterward had taken a passing teenage girl hostage outside a convenience store.
The scene required negotiation, investigation, calming the suspect, and protecting the hostage. In a sense, this was a complete waste of their talents. Before they arrived nearby, Barbara had already basically gathered all the information.
“Do not approach recklessly.”
Barbara’s voice came through the communication channel.
“The hostage’s Hue has already clouded. If the situation continues to deteriorate, she may also be judged by the Dominator as a high-risk target. Rather than directly paralyzing the suspect, it would be better if you can arrest him on scene and calm him down.”
Damian raised a hand.
He had already basically mastered the hand-sign habits of everyone in Division One, so he gave Dick and Jason two short instructions respectively.
After Dick understood, he stepped onto the edge of a nearby wall, clearly planning to take a shortcut.
“Little D, I’ll handle the ambush. You and Little Wing try calming him from the front.”
Jason frowned. “Dick, there’s no stable rear path at the scene. If you circle around like that, you might startle the perp instead.”
Damian glanced between the two of them and directly chose a compromise.
“Todd and I will distract the suspect. Grayson will improvise. That is all.”
The three of them moved through Gotham’s rainy night like birds.
Rainwater streamed down neon signs. A thin layer of water had collected on the streets. The blue-white fluorescence of the Dominator and the police lights cut through the darkness together.
Dick was the first to flip onto the outer wall of a side building. Jason advanced from the lower alleyway, while Damian walked from the front, his black uniform soaked by rain, his mechanical left arm occasionally flashing cold silver beneath the streetlight.
When they arrived at the scene, the suspect was holding a knife to the girl’s neck.
He was a man in his thirties. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his whole body was trembling.
The girl looked only seventeen or eighteen. Her face had gone white with fear, and she did not even dare to cry aloud.
Jason stepped sideways first, shielding Damian behind him, and raised his Dominator.
“Mr. Rick Dras.”
His voice was very low.
“Please do not act impulsively. Release the hostage. We are Special Investigation Division One.”
Damian showed his identification, then added, “You have the right to remain silent, and the right to request psychological intervention. But before the situation deteriorates further, I hope you stop your losses in time and do not persist in this mistake.”
“Persist in this mistake?”
The man shakily pressed the knife tighter.
The blade cut a fine line across the girl’s neck. Beads of blood seeped out, and the girl froze completely in terror.
“I worked hard my whole life,” the man’s voice grew more and more agitated. “Then suddenly this damn system calls me a latent criminal! How am I supposed to calm down?!”
“My life is already over! Since I’m finished, I’ll drag down whoever I can! I’m not dying alone! I want all of you to be buried with me!”
At that moment, Dick, hidden in the darkness, saw Damian’s signal.
Act according to opportunity.
The next second, a blue figure dropped from the side above.
He grabbed the edge of a sign, used the force to flip, planted both feet on the wall, and dove down at an almost impossible angle.
The suspect had not even had time to react before Dick’s short stick struck his wrist.
The knife flew out of his hand.
Dick smoothly pulled up the hostage, who was so frightened she could barely stand, and quickly led her to a safe area.
“It’s okay now,” he soothed softly.
Jason and Damian seized the opportunity and prepared to move forward to subdue the suspect.
But the cornered man suddenly pulled another short knife from inside his clothes and swung it directly at Jason.
Dick’s expression changed drastically, and he immediately ran toward them, but distant water could not put out a nearby fire.
At that distance, nothing could make it in time.
Almost at the same moment, Damian directly raised his left hand to block.
The blade hacked hard into the outside of the mechanical arm.
The silver-gray metal released a shrill scraping sound, and sparks burst open in the rainy night.
Damian had used his mechanical left arm to directly block the oncoming knife.
“Damian!”
“Dami!”
Two panicked voices sounded at the same time.
Dick directly drew his escrima sticks.
Jason also pulled out his baton.
The two rushed forward simultaneously.
One seized the suspect’s shoulder.
The other swept at the back of his knees.
The man was forcibly pressed to the ground. Jason’s knee pinned his back, his grip nearly twisting the suspect’s joints apart.
Dick snatched away the short knife, his expression frighteningly dark.
In that instant, they were so furious they nearly exploded.
Not because the mission had been dangerous.
But because the person they had only just regained had once again, without hesitation, stood in front of someone else.
Damian, however, was not panicked at all.
He took out handcuffs with one hand and cuffed the suspect’s hands, completely ignoring the mechanical left arm that had been hacked into and was now making a crackling sound.
“Mr. Rick Dras,” he announced calmly. “You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say from this point onward may be used as evidence. Do you understand your rights?”
The suspect lay on the ground, full of panic.
Dick and Jason’s expressions, meanwhile, were both terribly ugly.
After the situation settled safely, the two of them escorted Damian back to the police car with lingering fear.
“Little D… are you okay?”
Dick stared at Damian’s mechanical arm, heartbroken as he looked at the deep cut left by the knife on the outside of that silver-gray arm. The metal shell had been pried open, exposing several fine wires inside.
Rainwater flowed into the damaged area, and tiny electric sparks occasionally jumped from the interface. The mechanical fingers twitched irregularly from time to time.
“That bastard is dead,” Jason was still furious. “Just wait. Good thing this arm doesn’t have pain nerves. Otherwise, I’d tear off his arm right now and give it to you as a replacement.”
Damian was not as calm as he appeared.
It was only that the direction of his true distress was entirely different from his two older brothers’. His medical loan was still unpaid, and now the mechanical arm he had just replaced had also been ruined.
In his mind, he was meticulously calculating what exactly he could do to fill this enormous financial black hole.
Facts proved that money might not buy happiness, but without money, one could not move an inch.
Raised by Talia, Damian had always striven to be self-reliant and self-sufficient. Now that he was already twenty-three, there was absolutely no way he could do something as embarrassing as open his mouth and ask his father for money.
But pride made life painful.
Watching Damian stare silently at his left arm, Jason and Dick felt mixed emotions. Both of them saw worry and heartache in the other’s eyes. But everyone understood it differently.
Jason’s understanding was that Damian felt helpless because he was not used to one arm combats.
Dick, meanwhile, believed Damian was troubled over how to repair the mechanical arm.
In any case, the two of them worked hard to cheer Damian up, sparing no effort.
Dick began trying to tell jokes. Jason, meanwhile, had already gone into the Enforcer group chat to ask the strategist Tim and the all-purpose Cass for advice.
Aside from financial embarrassment, Damian’s biggest trouble was actually this mechanical arm he had bought at half price. Being cut by a knife was not a big deal. The real problem was: today was a rainy day. Water had flowed into the interior through the damaged area, and only then did he discover that this old model mechanical arm was not waterproof.
Forget control. The entire left arm had basically been ruined. He could already see the reactions of short-circuited wires and confused signals inside.
Meanwhile, in the family group chat, an argument had already begun in full force.
(BatFamily Group Chat)
Jason: Timmy, Cass, BIG crisis!
Timothy: Jason. Cass and I are filling out reports. Explain the situation in twenty words or fewer.
Jason: Twenty words my ass. Kid went out on call and blocked a knife for me. Got slashed by the perp!
After that sentence, for a moment, including Bruce, who usually only lurked and did not speak, the other three were all typing, then deleting, then typing again, then deleting again.
In the end, Cass was the first to send a message.
Cass: Report injuries. I will contact Alfie and Leslie.
Jason: No need! Nobody got hurt.
Timothy: Nobody got hurt? Damian blocked a knife for you and you say nobody got hurt? Do you think we are idiots?
Jason: Calm down, Timmy. Really, nobody got hurt. But the little bat-brat’s mechanical arm is busted. He looks pretty miserable. Big Bird’s jokes can’t even comfort him.
This time, the other three fell silent.
Jason decided to give them a little time to think.
Timothy: Is it possible Damian does not have a spare mechanical arm, so he is worried about repairs?
This made quite a lot of sense.
Jason immediately agreed and sent an “I agree” reaction image.
Cassandra also thought of another possibility.
Cass: Maybe he is attached to this arm. Old model. Perhaps it has a history we do not know.
As the head of the family, Batman finally spoke directly.
Bruce: I will prepare a new backup arm. After you return, gather directly in the Batcave.
Timothy: Roger.
Cass: (Ok.emoji)
Jason: Got it
After reading the messages, Jason looked up and discovered that Dick had already started chatting with Damian.
Dick asked, “Little D, where exactly did you go for the past half year?”
After hesitating for a moment, Damian somewhat awkwardly looked around and avoided the main point.
“I was in a nearby city, responsible for music-related work.”
Jason, who caught the keyword, immediately joined the conversation:“You went to play an instrument?”
Damian was silent for one second, seriously considering whether midnight DJing counted as playing an instrument. Then he answered with a solemn face. “I was both a musician and an arranger.”
Now the two people sitting opposite him stared at each other.
They had thought Damian had been employed by some orchestra, but had not expected him to be in a senior responsible position.
If he was famous, why had they heard nothing after so long?
Damian made a black-humored joke: “There are not many instruments one can play with one arm. Use your imagination.”
This did not make the atmosphere lighter.
On the contrary, Dick and Jason both recalled Damian’s burned left arm in the ruins.
The two visibly became downcast.
Realizing this, Damian added impatiently, “It is not what you are thinking. I worked at an underground music hall. I did not join any band.”
At this point, he suddenly fell silent for a while.
He thought of those dancing young people. Of the noise and light pollution every night. Of the unrestrained crowd beneath neon lights. Of electronic beats pounding underground like another heart of the city.
He could not say he did not miss it at all.
That period had been strange. So free it did not feel real. No one knew him. No one expected him to become an Inspector. No one required him to keep his Hue clear. He stood behind the DJ booth and watched the crowd dance between light and shadow.
In the eyes of the System, those people were perhaps all highly fluctuating, high-risk, unstable samples. But they were merely young people pursuing excitement and joy. They were absorbed in music, light, and rhythm, using them to feel a moment of release from life.
That made Damian realize, for the first time, that the human mind was not always a machine that needed to be corrected.
Sometimes, people simply needed a night where they could dance to their hearts’ content.
Now. If one day he truly had nowhere left to go…Who would you ask for help?
Good question. Damian was a rather proud person. Even if he were wandering the streets, he could not bring himself to ask someone else for help. Among his companions, the person he was least likely to ask was Drake.
He would rather be struck by lightning than let that smiling tiger know he was in financial difficulty. Jason and Cassandra were reliable, but he did not want them to form an impression of him as “lost, pitiful, and helpless.”
As for Bruce, that went without saying. There was no possibility that he would lower his head before his father over money.
After thinking it over, the only choice seemed to be Dick.
That was why Damian was standing before Richard Grayson’s room.
After pacing back and forth at the door twice, he finally took a deep breath and knocked twice.
Knock knock.
Within a few seconds, there was a reply from inside.
“Who is it?”
“It is me, Grayson,” Damian said. “Do you have time right now?”
“Dami?”
After hearing the voice outside, there came a clanging and banging sound from inside, as if someone was rummaging through boxes and cabinets.
“Give me one second, I’m coming! Ah—!”
It sounded as if Dick had tripped over something.
Or as if something had fallen to the ground.
About two minutes later, the door finally opened.
“Come in! Little D!”
Dick opened the door with a bright smile, even a little excited.
“It’s a little messy… don’t mind it.”
Damian frowned and looked at the chaos everywhere.
On the coffee table, clothes, uniforms, and files were stacked together. Beside them were quite a few beer cans, some half-drunk, some empty but not yet cleaned up.
There was a terminal beside the bed, but the wires were tangled into a mess. There was almost nowhere to step.
Beside the coffee table was a pile of clothes.
There was, however, a bit of space on the sofa, which seemed to be the only clean land Dick had just hastily cleared.
Damian had never had much fantasy regarding Dick’s personal hygiene habits, but this room was still somewhat incredible.
This was practically a recycling station.
That said, it was not as if the place lacked signs of life.
On the contrary, traces of warmth decorated this chaotic little nest of a single man here and there.
On the wall was a poster of the Flying Graysons from decades ago. Beside it were old promotional pamphlets from Haly’s Circus, yellowed ticket stubs, and several blurry old photographs.
In the corner was an old music player, with many records scattered around it.
On the top shelf of the bookcase sat a small flying trapeze model. Its red and yellow outfit had faded, but it had been wiped very clean.
On the windowsill sat several rather disappointing potted plants.
One of them was already half-dead, and the fact that it had survived until today looked like a miracle.
On the wall beside the wardrobe hung several paintings.
They were all Damian’s previous artworks.
Two of them were portraits of Dick.
One showed him leaning against the railing in the Batcave, smiling like sunlight.
The other was his back in the training room. The shoulder line, spine, modified body structure, light, and shadow had all been drawn very accurately.
And another painting showed a robin with blue patterns on its breast.
That bird stood high up, as if about to fly, and also as if waiting for someone to reach out and catch it.
Seeing Damian silent, Dick finally looked a little embarrassed. A faint embarrassed flush appeared on his face.
“Um… Little D, why don’t you come in and sit first? I’ll clean up a bit more.”
As he spoke, he was about to lead Damian inside.
“Tt.”
The hardworking Damian sighed deeply.
“Go get a laundry basket. We will clean this side first, Grayson.”
As he spoke, Damian directly used his intact right hand to pick up the nearest jacket and began sorting.
Clothes that needed washing went into the basket.
Clothes that could still be worn were folded and placed on the table beside the office chair.
New clothes were hung properly and put into the wardrobe.
Files and documents were sorted by content, clipped together, and placed uniformly on the desk.
Beer bottles, chip bags, snack crumbs, and other trash were separated into recyclables and non-recyclables, then placed into plastic bags of different sizes one by one.
Finally, Damian even went to Jason’s room and borrowed a robot vacuum for the final cleaning.
With two people working together, the task was not tiring.
In less than an hour, the entire room was organized perfectly, even cleaner than when Dick had first moved in.
Damian took the final bag of trash out with satisfaction.
Then he sat down on the sofa and carefully cleaned his right hand with hand sanitizer.
Dick looked at the newly transformed room in surprise and delight.
Then he pulled over a chair and sat facing Damian, just like the first time they had spoken heart-to-heart in the infirmary.
He rested his chin on the back of the chair, his sea-blue eyes gazing at the other person gently.
“So, Little D. What happened?”
Only then was Damian, who had completely deviated from the original topic, reminded.
He was silent for a moment, then began in a clear and organized manner.
“Grayson, would you be willing to lend me some money?”
As he spoke, he removed the black glove on his left hand and exposed the knife wound on the mechanical arm.
“My left arm cannot operate normally. I currently cannot afford the repair cost for the moment. However, after my next salary is paid, I am willing to repay you with principal and interest directly. You may decide the interest rate.”
Considering their relationship, the person Damian trusted most was indeed Richard Grayson.
When he was in difficulty, Dick was also his first choice.
However, considering that Dick might already have accepted his death, and now that they had met again, even if Dick was unwilling to lend money, that would be understandable.
But whether publicly or privately, he was the first choice.
Believing that he had expressed himself clearly, Damian looked in confusion at Dick, who had suddenly become heartbroken.
He studied the other’s expression and spoke again.
“I do not wish to burden you. Forgive the disturbance.”
After saying that, he tried to stand and leave, only to be pressed back down by Dick.
“Little D! Why didn’t you come to me earlier for help?”
As he spoke, Dick immediately went around the coffee table and sat beside Damian.
“Of course there’s no problem. But Dami, do you have any special attachment to this mechanical arm?”
Damian answered quickly.
“No. Why?”
Hearing this answer, Dick’s eyes lit up.
“Then would you accept a better mechanical arm option?”
Not quite certain of Dick’s intention, Damian did not answer rashly.
Dick continued, “Look, I went through human experimentation, right? Part of my organs are advanced alloy. You know that.”
As he spoke, Dick also extended his own left arm.
He spread his fingers, then closed them again.
“Bruce, and everyone else too, a lot of people pity me… but I don’t think I’m a pitiful person.”
In Dick’s blue eyes, there were stars and sea, points of light shining inside.
“Maybe I’m a survivor, but I also couldn’t decide what happened to me in the past. Blaming disasters and misfortunes would only trap me in self-doubt.”
“If I can accept them as part of myself, it actually makes me much freer… After all, I’ll be twenty-five forever, and now you also have the chance to own a Transformer left arm.”
He laughed a little.
“How handsome are we?”
As he said this, he even winked.
Hearing the meaning behind his words, Damian was very surprised by Dick’s frank attitude.
Before he realized it, he asked, “Do you not hate the Court of Owls for making you lose your original body?”
Dick answered this very directly.
“I don’t hate them. Or rather, if those things hadn’t happened, I would never have met Bruce. I would never have had the chance to return to life a second time.”
“We’re essentially one big family, you know.”
Dick swiped open his phone and opened the Bat Big Family group chat.
“If you don’t mind… Dami, would you be willing to join this group chat?”
Looking at the group chat that included everyone from Team One, and even Stephanie and Duke from Team Two, Alfred, Barbara, and Bruce, Damian looked at Dick in shock.
“You had a group and did not add me?”
Dick directly opened the group history.
“In any case, we prepared a gift for you together. If you don’t mind, come with us to the invention area of the Batcave later.”
Damian’s attention was immediately diverted.
At the same time, Dick opened his terminal and directly transferred one hundred thousand dollars to Damian from his personal account.
Upon receiving the money, Damian stared at the gentle Dick in shock, as if looking at a wealthy second-generation heir who had no concept of money.
Dick explained with a solemn yet extremely straightforward expression.
“You don’t need to pay it back. This is just a little from me. Please accept it.”
This astronomical number was more than Damian could bear.
He almost instinctively wanted to transfer it back, but Dick directly held his wrist.
“You don’t need to return it to me.”
Dick said gently, “Just think of it as some pocket money from your big brother to his youngest brother. Keep it.”
But repaying debts was only natural.
Even if it could solve his urgent problem, Damian still could not accept it with peace of mind.
He could only think internally about how to pay in installments, and how he absolutely had to repay Dick in the future.
This money could not only pay off the eighty thousand dollars of medical fees, but even leave twenty thousand to buy a rather good mechanical arm.
Having once again sworn in his heart that he would repay this kindness, Damian looked at Dick gratefully and thanked him somewhat awkwardly.
“Richard. I will repay this kindness to you many times over. I swear it in the name of the son of al Ghul and Wayne.”
Looking at Damian, who seemed like a samurai from a period drama and also like a medieval knight, so solemn and serious, Dick’s heart filled with affection.
He directly pulled Damian into a huge hug.
“As long as you’re okay, that’s better than anything, Dami.”
“Even if it’s a mechanical arm, don’t let yourself get hurt!”
Damian returned the hug too.
“Richard, you are still so sentimental… How does Alfred tolerate your room being this messy?”
Dick laughed sheepishly.
“It was actually very clean a week ago.”
Damian could only sigh deeply.
“It seems you need someone to teach you how to clean.”
Dick immediately replied, “I only learn from the best teacher.”
Damian answered calmly, “Then I will make your personal hygiene the new benchmark of Special Investigation Division One.”
After the warm heart-to-heart, Damian decisively removed the damaged mechanical arm.
Originally, he had planned to make do with it if it could be repaired. If it could not, he would use the borrowed funds to buy a new model.
However, just as he reached the corner of the hallway, Jason suddenly appeared from the side. Together with Timothy, one on the left and one on the right, they dragged Damian down to the underground development area.
There, the entire magnificent team had already gathered.
Jason, looking proud.
Bruce standing in the center.
Dick, gratified.
Cassandra smiling quietly.
Tim holding a terminal.
Barbara and Alfred on the channel.
Everyone had gathered in one place.
This made Damian unconsciously tense.
“Ready, kid?”
As Jason spoke, he signaled Bruce with his eyes to pull back the curtain.
Behind it, the lights slowly brightened.
A brand-new mechanical arm was placed in the center of a transparent stand, its silver-gray metal shell gleaming with a calm and beautiful light beneath the lamps.
Its lines were smooth. Its structure precise. It did not fully imitate human skin, nor did it deliberately hide its mechanical texture. It was more like a work that combined practicality, combat, and artistic aesthetics. Its exterior coating could be adjusted.
If Damian liked matte black, it could become a low-key dark color. If he preferred a silver-white metallic texture, it could remain in this clean and sharp original state.
In certain non-mission situations, it could even simulate an outer layer close to human skin.
Completely different from the old model before, this mechanical arm used the newest WayneTech neural capture system.
It could read residual nerve signals, capture the brain’s motor intent, and have the internal microprocessor convert them instantly, with almost no delay.
Not only could it solve everyday-life problems, but it also had power output far exceeding ordinary prosthetics.
It could lift heavy weights. Climb. Fight. At the same time, it was resistant to blades and could even withstand small-caliber bullets for short periods. On top of that, it had a built-in sketching module, allowing him to draw from life anytime and anywhere. The fingertips could be swapped out for pen tips of different thicknesses.
Hidden inside the palm was a small internal storage space, just the right size for Damian’s B5 portable notebook.
And on the inner side of the forearm, there was a low-power emergency medical module that could store hemostatic patches, micro sutures, and emergency medicine.
For a while, Damian was speechless.
With Bruce and Jason’s help, he put on the new mechanical arm. After the neural connection was complete, he tried spreading his fingers. Clenching a fist. Rotating the wrist. Bending the elbow. Picking up the cup beside him.
The entire process was unimaginably smooth, without even a second of delay.
Looking at everyone’s expectant gazes, Damian was silent for a moment, then sincerely gave the highest praise: “This is the best mechanical arm I have ever seen.”
After receiving a five-star review, Jason directly high-fived Bruce.
The design reference had been found by Tim. The latest model had been jointly developed and assembled by Bruce and Jason. Cassandra smiled happily beside them, and Dick and Tim were even more obvious.
But Damian suddenly thought of something and turned to look at Jason, the chief developer.
“Is this mechanical arm waterproof?”
For one instant, the entire development area was silent for half a second. Then Jason revealed a smile.
“Of course. Baby Bat, THIS mechanical arm is waterproof.”