Holding his breath, Batman detected movement.
A dark silhouette lingered behind a wall, advancing with deliberate silence. Though it remained indistinct to the eye, his instincts and heightened perception marked its position with precision.
Without hesitation, he released a Batarang.
He aimed for lethal points, the throat, the space between the eyes, striking where the human body was most vulnerable. Even without a clear view, he calculated the trajectory with practiced certainty.
The sharp whistle of the Batarang cut through the air.
Clang!
Metal met metal. The attack had been blocked.
Batman's voice dropped to a murmur. "Found you."
The throw had never been meant to hit. It was a probe, a way to force movement and expose position. As the shadow reacted, its outline flickered just enough for him to lock on.
A faint distortion in the darkness, barely visible, but enough.
Batman fired his grappling gun and surged forward, closing the distance instantly. His right fist drove forward with controlled force.
At the last moment, he stopped.
Surprise flickered across his face.
The figure before him was smaller than expected, a teenager clad in a black and gray suit, hooded, with a peculiar mask obscuring part of his face. He looked like someone imitating a vigilante without fully understanding the weight of it.
The boy froze as well.
For a brief moment, they stared at one another, the tension giving way to something almost awkward.
Batman had anticipated many possibilities, but not this.
A child.
He held back, guided by his rule of protecting the young.
The boy did not share that restraint.
In an instant, he lashed out, aiming a vicious strike toward Batman's lower body.
Batman reacted immediately, intercepting the wrist with precise force.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
The boy shrugged, unfazed. "It's polite to introduce yourself before asking someone else."
This reckless attacker was Damian.
Determined and calculating, he had come to Gotham with a single goal. Adrian had given him a task, defeat Batman, and he intended to see it through. Sneaking away from Star City, he had tracked Batman for days, waiting for the perfect moment.
When the opportunity came, he acted.
He had already taken risks before, even sneaking into the battlefield in Coast City and nearly getting caught in the aftermath of a devastating conflict. His mother's fury had been intense, and only his grandfather's intervention spared him harsher punishment.
This time, he refused to fail.
Yet his plan had already gone wrong.
He had intended to use the fallen gang leader as bait, drawing Batman in for a decisive strike. Instead, he had been discovered almost instantly.
Frustration edged his voice.
"Batman," he said, staring him down. "You know the name. Why are you here?"
Batman studied him closely.
There was something familiar about the boy, something he could not immediately place. A subtle resemblance, perhaps not physical, but in presence, in instinct.
Before he could press further, footsteps echoed above them.
Heavy, deliberate.
A bald, muscular man appeared on the stairway, shotgun in hand. Without hesitation, he fired.
The blast thundered through the warehouse.
Batman reacted instantly, sweeping Damian aside and rolling with him to avoid the shot. His grappling gun fired, pulling them both upward into the shadows once more.
The man advanced, carrying a silver briefcase in his other hand. He fired again and again, each shot punctuated by a burst of flame and the metallic clatter of shells hitting the floor.
"I know who you are," he shouted. "And I know why you're here. You want to play hero, you came to the wrong place."
His voice rose with every step.
"Surrender, Batman. I know your tricks. You hide behind armor and gadgets. Come out and face me. I won't kill you, I'll throw you into my arena."
He lifted the briefcase slightly.
"You're after this, aren't you? It's right here. Come take it, if you can survive the bullets."
"You talk too much."
Batman's voice cut through the chaos.
A Batarang flew, striking the man's wrist. The shotgun faltered.
In the same motion, Batman descended, driving a powerful kick into the man's chest.
The impact sent him crashing backward onto the concrete floor.
The shotgun and briefcase slid away.
Damian, released from Batman's grip, moved immediately. Spotting the briefcase, he seized it without hesitation and pulled it close.
Whatever it was, if Batman wanted it, it had value.
The bald man staggered to his feet, grabbing his weapon again, fury blazing in his eyes.
"You have no idea what you've touched," he snarled. "You think you can take us on alone? We have numbers. You're just one man."
Batman stepped forward, his expression hidden beneath the cowl.
"Your only option now is silence."
In a blur of motion, he closed the distance and seized the man by the throat. The man struggled, attempting to fire, but the gun clicked empty.
"You should count your shots," Batman said coldly.
Panic replaced arrogance in the man's eyes.
"Here's something else to remember," Batman added. "Numbers mean nothing without discipline."
Before the man could respond, Batman struck him across the face, knocking him unconscious.
With the threat neutralized, Batman turned.
Damian was already moving toward the exit, the briefcase clutched tightly.
"Where are you going?" Batman asked.
"It's late," Damian replied casually. "I should head home. No need to follow."
Batman advanced, unhurried but relentless.
Damian understood immediately. Escape would not be simple.
He turned and exploded into motion, speed surging through his limbs. In an instant, he closed the gap, moving faster than before, his body cutting through the air with precision.
From an outside perspective, it would appear as though he had passed through Batman entirely.
A sharp sound followed.
Blood dripped from the edge of a Batarang.
Damian staggered back, clutching his arm, anger flashing across his face.
Batman glanced at the weapon in his hand, momentarily surprised. He had intended only to intercept, not to wound. The boy had charged straight into the blade.
Reckless.
He studied the injury. It was shallow, not life threatening.
The Batarang spun once in his grip before he raised it again.
"That case isn't for you," he said. "Put it down."
Damian smirked despite the pain. "It belongs to me now. It doesn't answer to you, does it? If it did, I might reconsider."
He steadied his breathing, regaining focus.
Though trained by the League of Assassins, his body had not yet reached its full potential. The exertion was already taking its toll.
Still, he attacked again.
His dagger flashed, slicing through the air with precision.
Batman evaded with minimal movement, countering without committing fully. He remained restrained, unwilling to unleash his full strength against a teenager.
But Damian pressed harder.
His attacks grew faster, sharper, more relentless. Each strike carried lethal intent, aimed at vital points without hesitation.
He was not holding back.
Batman's expression hardened.
This was no ordinary child. His techniques were ruthless, his instincts honed for killing.
Enough.
The next time Damian lunged, Batman fired his grappling gun, pulling himself upward and out of range. Landing lightly, he repositioned and launched another Batarang.
Damian reacted instantly, sprinting up the wall with explosive speed. Using momentum, he leapt toward Batman's level.
Batman met him head on.
With a precise movement, he intercepted him midair and drove him down.
They hit the ground hard.
Dust rose around them.
Damian tried to stand, but pain flared through his arm and ankle. His body protested, but his will did not.
He forced himself up, glaring at Batman with fierce defiance.
He refused to accept defeat.
With a strained breath, he lunged again.
Batman parried the attack effortlessly this time. The moment their bodies connected, Damian felt an overwhelming force push back against him.
Then came the counterstrike.
Batman's fist drove into his chest with controlled power.
The impact sent Damian stumbling backward into a wooden crate, splintering it on contact.
He coughed, blood touching his lips.
Batman stepped forward, his voice cold and unwavering.
"Tell me your name."
===
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