Chapter Text
Waking up in a random dumpster in the dead of night was not part of the plan. Nor was being jerked off the nightly patrol with Father.
However, knowing his typical luck, life never seems to go according to plan.
As he regained consciousness, he took a glance around the alley. Damian Wayne knew every alley, street and neighborhood in Gotham like the back of his hand, Father had made sure of that. But this one was unfamiliar. Strange.
Climbing out of the dumpster, Damian took stock of the situation. His Robin suit was intact, no wounds, nothing was missing from his utility belt. His comm refused to work, meaning it was broken or Oracle’s infallible frequencies got breached.
He had been in a fight with Joker, Batman at his side, when he’d been hit with something in the back of his head. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the alley.
Pressing the button on his comm, he tried to reach someone, anyone, once again. “Oracle, come in. Batman. Red Hood, Nightwing.” The only sound he was met with was static. The eleven-year-old would never admit to it, but a pang of fear bloomed in his chest. What if they’re all dead? What if I couldn’t save them because I was lying on my ass this whole time? What if I… failed Father? The thoughts ran through his head before he sighed and pulled out his grappling hook, firing it up to the nearest rooftop.
The sight that he was expecting, the dirty streets of Gotham, with its crime-ridden streets, was not what met his eyes. Instead, what lay before him was the Empire State Building, and multiple skyscrapers surrounding it. The business district of Manhattan was lit up, even late at night. Bustling about the sleepless city were people who Damian knew wouldn’t be out if it were Gotham, not with the crime rate as high as it is.
Confusion weighed on Damian’s mind; how had he ended up in New York City? Hours away from Gotham? How long had he been knocked out?
Suddenly, a scream pierced the air, snapping Damian from his thoughts. Looking down into the alley he was just in, he saw a woman being chased, her pursuer carrying a knife. She was headed for a dead end, and the man knew it.
“Tt, this shall be easy,” he muttered to himself, grappling down to the ground behind the man.
The woman turned around, realizing her mistake. With her back pressed up against the wall, she pleaded with the man, “Please, I don’t have anything!”
“I don’t care, you have something!” The man replied, not hearing the small child creeping up behind him. Luckily the woman hadn’t seen him, so this was Damian’s chance.
Robin tapped the man’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Excuse me,” he apologized as the man turned around before swinging at Robin with the knife. Clearly the man was on something for attacking him with such sloppy, aggressive maneuvers. Damian easily disarmed him, pinning him to the ground in mere seconds. He pulled a zip tie out of his utility belt and tied the man’s wrists together behind his back.
Turning to the woman, who was clearly a waitress now that he studied her outfit, he instructed, “Call the police. He shouldn’t be able to move until they arrive.”
“Okay,” she gasped out, pulling out a small phone. She dialed the number, putting the phone to her ear. “Wait!” She called as Robin started to grapple away. “What’s your name?”
“I am Robin,” he replied before pulling the trigger and lifting to the rooftop.
—————————
Meanwhile, alarms sounded in the Avengers Tower caused by multiversal energy located in the city.
“Friday, give me a status,” Tony told the computer, pulling up the holographic screens and map of the city.
A red dot appeared on the map, and a voice spoke, “The energy signature appeared here. There aren’t any cameras in the area.”
“See if you can pinpoint the frequency, and figure out what it was,” he replied as he walked to where his suit was stored. “Locate any anomalies, strange occurrences in the area. Check Queens, make sure it’s not Parker doing something.”
“I can affirm that it was not Peter. Queens is quiet, and there are no anomalies.” Suddenly, a call came in off the emergency hotline, detailing an attempted robbery. The robbery was stopped by a kid, looking to be around 10-13, wearing green pants and a red shirt, with a black cape and hoodie. “The boy called himself Robin.”
“Friday, find this Robin.”
“Done. He’s headed toward Manhattan.”
“Where is he?” Steve asked, walking into the room, already suited up with his shield on his arm.
“He’s on the bridge crossing the channels.”
“Like in a car?”
“He stole a motorcycle,” Friday responded.
“Great, kid thinks he can do anything,” Barton quipped sarcastically, entering the room.
“Let’s go. We can corral him underground in the tunnels,” Tony strategized, his helmet in hand.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve responded, frowning. “We don’t know this kid’s objective; he could be carrying an explosive.”
“He’s a kid, Rogers. Where’s he gonna get a bomb?” Natasha asked, shaking her head.
“This kid took down a grown adult.”
“Who was drunk,” she defended, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying, there’s no reason to jump to conclusions.”
The team discussed strategies for a moment longer before leaving the tower, deciding on the underground plan.
—————————
As Robin sped past cars under the bridge, he chuckled to himself. It was child’s play stealing this motorcycle, even Drake would have been able to pick the bike lock in mere seconds.
But as he exited the bridge, he caught sight of a man in an iron suit flying overhead. Robin scowled, opting to disappear from sight and drove into an underground parking garage. Ditching the bike, he made his way into the tunnel filled with people, an oncoming train racing his way. Perfect, he thought to himself as he moved closer to the edge of the platform.
But before long, he noticed a woman across the tracks wearing all leather, oddly reminiscent of the League’s uniform. He stepped back into the crowd, noticing the man nearing his side. In his hand was a photo, a photo of him.
Grateful for his small stature, he moved around the crowd, bypassing the man with the photo and starting to climb the steps to the outdoors. Letting out a small chuckle, he ascended, but was stopped short by someone grabbing his hood.
“Excuse me, kid. You aren’t going anywhere,” the man said quietly, keeping a firm grip on his hood.
“And who are you to tell me where I can and cannot go?” Robin asked, matching the man’s tone with a scowl.
“You’ll find out, kid.”
“No, I do not think I will,” he said before jumping up and over the man in a backflip, landing a punch in a nerve cluster and knocking the man to the ground. He ascended the escalator even faster, and before Barton could get back up, Robin was gone.
“You guys hear his accent?” He asked into the comm, standing up finally. His entire nervous system tingled, and he rolled his shoulders to regain feeling.
“Yeah, can you place it?” Cap asked through the comm, his voice displaying his concern.
“Friday shows that its origin is Middle Eastern,” Tony piped up as he flew to a stop, hovering just in front of the gathering team. The repulsors cut off, and he landed with a thud. “Can’t place exactly where though.”
“He’s been trained. Well,” Natasha said, scanning the crowd. As if the boy were hiding there in plain sight. As if he were watching them.
All of this, Damian listened to. The bug he planted on Barton’s suit still worked, and the audio feed channeled into his comm. He was indeed watching them, his domino mask and suit hidden in a backpack he stole.
“Fools,” he muttered in Arabic, walking past them and heading down to the train unnoticed.
When he boarded the train, he pickpocketed a phone, using it for what Drake always drilled into him. Always search for information. Information is your best weapon.
Richard would be disapproving of his methods, but he had no access to Father, Richard, or even Drake. Hell, he’d even take Todd at this point.
As the train rumbled through the tunnel, Damian learned all he could about the “Avengers,” who they were, their strengths, weaknesses, identities. Apparently a secret identity meant nothing here. When he searched his father’s name, nothing resulted. Nothing on Wayne Enterprises, Thomas Wayne, Bruce Wayne, nobody in his family. Not even Mother, or Grandfather. He wondered if something happened.
Damian exited the train at a random stop, unaware of how long he had been on the train. He emerged from the tunnel system into a crowded square, the screens mounted on the buildings surrounding him glaring brightly. The sun was beating down on the square, but the heat didn’t bother Damian. He had climbed a mountain with a broken wrist, a bit of heat never bothered him.
He found his way to an abandoned house, the roof and gate surrounding it in disrepair. Not allowing himself to take a moment reprieve, he checked the yard for anyone before heading inside. Clearing each room was simple, as there weren’t any people. None of the homeless population had decided to stay here this summer afternoon.
Damian made camp in the farthest room from the windows. Using his backpack as a pillow, with a batarang in his hand, he decided to attempt a few hours rest before anything else. His father would find him soon, he was sure of it.
———————
“Friday, where is the birdie?” Tony asked as he fused wires on one of his damaged helmets. The small pillar of smoke that rose from the heated metal satisfied him, but this child running around his city bothered him.
“I’ve found 30 possible matches. All have parents who are New York residents, except one. The one is unable to be identified.”
“Where’d you pick up his face?” He’d assumed that Friday had his photo from a security camera, a detail he had assumed correctly. The photo appeared on the screen, and he couldn’t help but smile. One step closer to apprehend him.
“The train station where you lost the boy.”
“What’s the probability of him being our Robin?”
“Very likely.”
“And where is he now?”
“In an abandoned brownstone, just outside of downtown.”
“Send the location to the rest of the team,” he ordered, putting on the helmet, smiling once again when it flickered to life. “And I think I’m gonna go retro today. Let’s dig out the rest of this suit.”
———————
Damian awoke from a deep sleep. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, unsure of what caused him to awake. Listening to his surroundings, he could definitely hear footsteps walking up the staircase.
Footsteps on the roof, or what was left of it. His heartbeat, though he tried to keep it steady, betrayed him and quickened with adrenaline. Silently, he picked up his backpack, pulling the bag to his shoulders. From the side pocket, he removed his domino mask and placed it on his face. With his batarang still in hand, he flanked the doorway as the woman in the leather suit walked in. She had a pistol in her hand, and Damian was grateful for being small enough to conceal himself behind the door.
But his luck would not last. She cleared the rest of the room, then turned around, catching a glimpse of the boy. Her stance immediately changed from being taut as a bowstring to soft and placating. She holstered her gun, raising her hands in what was supposed to be a calming gesture.
“Hey, kid. What’s your name?” She asked, only met with silence.
Damian eyed her suspiciously. He knew of her, had studied her fighting style in the moments he had before the stolen phone died. She had been trained, but Damian doubted as well as him.
“Kid?”
Instead of answering, Damian lunged, keeping his weapon in his hand. He only wanted to incapacitate her, but she was quick. Quicker than he wanted to give her credit for. She sidestepped him and grabbed her gun once again. But Damian immediately shoved her wrist up, knocking the gun from her hand. He grabbed it midair, aiming it at her as she drew her other one at him. They were at an impasse.
“I’m only gonna ask this one more time. What’s your name?” She demanded, her finger on the trigger.
Damian only scoffed, his finger also on the trigger. “Robin. That is all you may know.”
Natasha hesitated, staring at the masked boy. He looked young, too young to be subjected to this lifestyle. “We can help you; we can get you out of this-,” she started, only to be interrupted.
“Out of what, exactly? I have not done anything, Widow,” he bit out, refusing to lower the gun.
“Robin is a codename, right?”
“Yes,” he replied, scowling. “What does that have to do with this circumstance?”
“You’re obviously still a minor-,” Before she could really begin, she was interrupted again, clearly having struck a nerve.
“I am not a child!”
“- so you having been trained like this means only one thing.”
“And what, exactly is that?”
“You’ve been trained by the Red Room.”
“The what?” Damian questioned, frowning. “Never mind. I have no time for this useless debacle.” He aimed his gun straight at Natasha, aware of the Kevlar that protected her. Shamelessly, he pulled the trigger, the bullet being caught by the suit. But it would still leave a nasty bruise. “Good day,” was all he said as he walked down the stairs.
Before he got too far though, he was met with two people at the base of the staircase, Hawkeye, and Iron Man. Black Widow was at the top of the stairs, blocking the exit.
“Shit,” was all he said as the team aimed their weapons at him. He knew he could easily take them all down in hand-to-hand, but all three aiming weapons at him while he only had one? Todd would have just killed the woman, but he had to listen to Father and his no killing rule.
“Nat, you alright?” Barton called up the stairs.
She climbed down the stairs as the child remained unmoving, not daring to look at her as he kept his gaze transfixed on the arrow pointing at his head. As if he was calculating how fast he would have to be to catch it, even though it was only two feet away from him.
“Yeah. I’m gonna have a hell of a bruise, but I’m fine,” she said as she pulled out a zip tie, grabbing the kid’s hands and tying them together behind his back.
The boy stood there, rigid and taut, as if he were about to attack. His posture didn’t change from the time he was arrested to the time he was placed in a windowless room in the Tower. The chair he was seated in was metal, and he remained silent.
“What do we do with him?” Steve asked, his arms crossed as he watched the feed from a camera. “We can’t turn him over to SHIELD.”
“They’ll just detain him. I think I know how to get through to him,” Natasha responded, leaving the group and heading inside the room with Robin inside.
Damian silently meditated; his head dropped as he breathed. His captors had made no attempt to interrogate him, no attempt to harm him, as if they acquired him and didn’t know what to do with him. He waited, patient and silent until the door opened.
Damian barely looked up at the woman walking inside, her red hair brushing her shoulders. He didn’t speak, waiting for her to make the first move.
Instead of saying anything, Natasha set down the chair she carried with her, sitting down in front of Damian. His head was still dropped, and she wondered for a moment if he was asleep. But he finally looked up at her, as if waiting for her to speak.
“What’s your name?” Was all she asked.
“Robin.” Was all he answered.
“Your actual name,” she scoffed before continuing. “We just want to help you.”
“You share a similar level of intellect to that of a child if you think I will share my personal information with you,” he spat, scowling.
Natasha laughed. She wasn’t expecting this boy, who was definitely not any older than ten, to speak so… eloquently? As if he were raised by English royalty.
“Will you do one thing for me?”
“And what will that be?”
“Remove the mask,” she answered, staring him down. “Like I said, we just want to help you. We can find your parents or get you somewhere safe.” She noticed the scars that ran up and down his arms. Unusual in a child his age.
He seemed to consider her offer as he turned his head slightly, as if weighing his options.
“You will assist me in returning home?” He questioned, turning back to her. She couldn’t tell if it was hope or fear in his voice, as it was carefully controlled and worded.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
Without another word, Robin reached up and removed his mask. She hadn’t even noticed he broke through the zip tie. Beneath the domino mask was a boy, his green eyes piercing with his soft face.
“So, what’s your name?”
“You may call me Damian.”
“What’s your last name, Damian?”
“Wayne,” he replied. “Damian Wayne.”
In the other room, Tony ran the name through every database known to man. Nothing came up in missing persons, AFIS or police records.
The comm crackled to life, and Tony said “There is no Damian Wayne. See if you can get anything else.”
“Can you tell me what your parent’s names are?”
“Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul,” he replied, confusion rippling over his face.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Yes.”
“What are their names?”
“Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Timothy Drake. My sisters are Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and Barbara Gordon.”
“That’s a lot of siblings,” Natasha commented, knowing Tony was getting this recorded.
“Yes, they are quite insufferable at times.”
“Where do you live, Damian?”
“Gotham.”
Natasha froze. “Give me a moment,” she said as she stood up and left the room. After she closed the door, she looked to Tony. “Did he say what I think he said?”
“Gotham,” he confirmed, his face having blanched. “Destroyed two days ago.”
“Is there any chance-,” she started to ask but was quickly interrupted.
“There’s no chance, Nat. His family’s gone.”
Little did they know that Damian had followed Natasha. Overhearing their conversation, Damian tried to understand. His family… gone? Father and Pennyworth? Titus and Alfred the cat? Richard? Todd and Drake? How could they be gone?
“No!” He shouted, interrupting their conversation. “No, they cannot be gone!”
Natasha and Tony both looked at the child, at his tantrum. Damian saw the look on their faces, noting the horror and pain that was written on it.
He continued to shout, not having realized that he’d switched to his native Arabic language. He screamed that they were lying, his family was fine, his family was fine!
He didn’t realize that tears were streaming down his face. He didn’t feel himself being picked up. He didn’t feel himself being carried to another room as he continued to scream and shout.
He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to be wrapped in Father’s arms one more time. He wanted to taste Pennyworth’s cooking, go on patrol with Richard. Hear Brown’s grating giggle, see Gordon’s reassuring smile. He wanted to feel Cain’s hand on his shoulder. He wanted to smell Drake’s coffee, hear Todd’s voice, he just wanted home.
When he realized he was being carried, he kicked and screamed, pushing away the arms holding him. He ran from the person, ran and ran and ran until he found the darkest room there was, collapsing to his knees. Damian had never felt like this before. He’d been living with his father at the Manor for a whole year now, and he dreaded going back to the League. At the Manor he felt safe, home. Home. All he wanted was to go home.
After a while, Damian heard a knock on the door. “Kiddo?” Someone asked from the other side. He didn’t respond, only shoving himself further into the darkness as the door opened. “Damian?” Barton prodded, kneeling in front of him.
“Leave,” was all Damian could reply with.
“I can’t do that,” Barton said, sitting down finally. “I can stay here with you though.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“Who is it that you want?”
Damian didn’t know how to reply. He wanted to return home, but he was just told that he didn’t have a home to go back to. That his family was dead. That Batcow was dead. Titus. Richard, Drake and Todd. He wanted to hear his brother’s incessant arguments, stupid nicknames. He wanted the smell of halwa wafting through the house.
But he couldn’t allow himself to want. He could only allow himself to do one thing; get revenge. Whoever destroyed his family deserved to be destroyed themselves.
Justice, not vengeance, Father would always say.
So, Damian took a deep breath, clearing his head from violent thoughts.
“I merely wish to return home.”
————————
Meanwhile, in another universe, Talia al Ghul was never prepared to read the three words that appeared on her cell phone screen. She knew her son would be fine, that he could defend himself, if need be, but she had never prepared herself for this scenario. The three words that just made the world spin read, “Damian is missing.”