The sharp edge in Batman's voice cut through the silence.
His patience had completely run out. If not for the strange instinct holding him back, he likely would have already taught the boy a brutal lesson.
Damian studied the fierce expression beneath the cowl and immediately understood one thing, continuing to resist would only worsen the situation.
He had never been foolish enough to fight a losing battle.
Taking a slow breath, he finally spoke.
"Damian Wayne."
Batman froze.
For a moment, he thought he had misheard.
"What did you say your name was?"
Damian clutched his injured chest as he pushed himself upright. He coughed once, shot Batman an irritated glare, then answered coldly.
"I said my name is Damian Wayne. Has your hearing deteriorated that badly already?"
The name struck Batman harder than any blow during their fight.
He knew exactly who Damian Wayne was.
Talia al Ghul had spoken of him more than once. Though their meetings had always been brief and tense, she had never hidden the existence of their son.
Batman had assumed Damian would remain hidden within Nanda Parbat under the League of Assassins' protection.
He never imagined the boy would appear in Gotham.
And certainly not like this.
Not after fighting him.
Not after injuring him.
If he had not restrained himself during their confrontation, Damian's wounds could have been far worse.
Countless scenarios of meeting his biological son had crossed Bruce Wayne's mind over the years, but none resembled this absurd encounter inside an abandoned factory soaked in blood and gunpowder.
Everything had unfolded completely beyond his expectations.
"Damian Wayne..."
Batman repeated the name quietly, his tone complicated.
He carefully examined the boy standing before him, the son who carried his blood, yet felt strangely unfamiliar.
For the first time in years, Batman found himself uncertain of what to say.
He was not prepared for this.
Not emotionally.
Not mentally.
Certainly not as a father.
Deep down, Bruce had long believed he had already failed as family. He had failed Alfred more times than he cared to admit, and despite his bond with Dick Grayson, he often questioned whether he had truly done right by him either.
"Your mother is Talia al Ghul, correct?"
Batman finally asked.
Damian looked genuinely surprised.
"You know her?"
"Not well," Batman replied evenly. "But more than strangers."
The brief fluctuation in his voice disappeared almost instantly as he regained his usual cold composure.
"Why are you in Gotham? Did Talia send you here? What exactly are you planning?"
The interrogation returned immediately.
To Batman, Damian still sounded like a potential threat.
That alone infuriated the boy.
Damian's expression darkened.
"What do you take me for? Some criminal dragged off the street?"
At that moment, Damian became absolutely certain of one thing.
He disliked Batman immensely.
He hated the way the man spoke to him.
Hated the suspicion in his voice.
Hated being judged like another criminal beneath Gotham's skyline.
As though guilt was something he had inherited from birth.
"You are not a criminal," Batman answered sternly, "but your obsession with violence and your methods are not normal for someone your age."
This time, the tone carried less accusation and more authority, the voice of an elder rather than a vigilante.
That only made Damian more rebellious.
"Tch. Who do you think you are?" Damian snapped. "Stop talking down to me. What I do has nothing to do with you."
"It does," Batman said firmly. "Because I'm your father."
The words hit Damian like an explosion.
His mind went completely blank.
He stared at Batman in stunned silence, eyes wide, lips parted slightly in disbelief.
For several seconds, he could not speak at all.
Half an hour later, Damian had already pieced together enough evidence to believe the claim.
His mother's constant hints, Batman's knowledge, and the details only someone involved could know made denial difficult.
Even so, Damian refused to show excitement.
Crossing his arms, he leaned back against a rusted support beam and spoke with deliberate indifference.
"Mr. Wayne, I think you should continue calling me Mr. Damian instead."
His tone turned colder.
"A man forced to donate a few milliliters of DNA years ago and unaware of my existence until now has not earned the right to call himself my father."
Despite suddenly discovering he had a father, Damian remained detached.
Batman himself was not a man known for warmth or emotional openness. Even if Damian had approached him seeking affection, Bruce would likely have struggled to respond properly.
But hearing such dismissive words from his own son still left an unpleasant heaviness in his chest.
Batman pressed his lips together.
"I understand if you resent me," he said quietly. "I failed in my responsibilities. But there are bonds in this world that cannot simply be denied."
Damian immediately interrupted him.
"I think you misunderstand something, Mr. Batman."
His voice was emotionless now, almost detached.
Like two strangers negotiating business rather than a father and son speaking for the first time.
"I don't resent you. I feel nothing toward you."
Damian lifted his chin slightly.
"What did you expect? Some pitiful child mocked for not having a father?"
A faint scoff escaped him.
"I lived very well within the League of Assassins. Nobody dared disrespect me there. The assassins under me obeyed because they feared the consequences of angering me."
There was unmistakable pride in his voice.
"My mother loves me. My grandfather values me. My subordinates respect me. If my mother had not constantly restricted me from leaving, my childhood would've been perfect."
He smirked coldly.
"Enough to make most children jealous."
Damian claimed he lacked nothing.
Whether that was true or not, only he knew.
Batman stared at him silently.
He had expected bitterness.
Loneliness.
Perhaps even hatred.
Instead, Damian acted as though a father had never been necessary at all.
As though Bruce Wayne was entirely replaceable.
"That's exactly why your personality has become so distorted," Batman said at last.
His brows furrowed deeply.
"You were raised in an environment that normalized violence and extremism. No child should grow up believing brutality is natural."
Damian laughed openly.
The sound carried sharp ridicule.
"Do you truly want me to become normal?"
He looked at Batman as though hearing the most ridiculous idea imaginable.
"You adults are all the same. You think normality is some great achievement."
His eyes narrowed.
"What exactly do you want for me? To live like everyone else? Become a lawyer? A doctor? Sit in an office all day? Get married, grow old, then quietly die after living a meaningless life?"
Damian shook his head dismissively.
"You people always decide what others should become without asking them what they want."
Batman fell silent again.
No ordinary teenager spoke like this.
Bruce immediately sensed something deeper beneath Damian's words.
Ambition.
Dangerous ambition.
And worse, he saw traces of himself inside the boy.
That realization unsettled him more than he expected.
Because Damian also reminded him of Adrian.
The same unyielding nature.
The same refusal to bow before the world.
The same dangerous certainty in their own path.
Adrian's ambition was not evil by nature, but unchecked ambition combined with overwhelming power could easily become catastrophic.
Damian carried that same potential.
Perhaps even more recklessly.
Batman understood immediately why that frightened him.
After a long silence, he finally spoke again.
"I don't expect you to live an ordinary life," Batman admitted. "But strength requires restraint. The truly powerful are often those capable of appearing ordinary."
Damian remained unimpressed.
"People act low key because they have no choice," he replied. "If they truly possessed enough power, they wouldn't hide."
A mocking smile formed on his lips.
"Take Homelander for example. He's arrogant and public about his strength because nobody can stop him."
Damian looked directly into Batman's eyes.
"And you aren't exactly a saint either."
Batman's expression darkened slightly.
"I know about your conflict with Homelander. You beat criminals half to death and leave them crippled for life. You claim moral superiority, but your methods aren't much kinder than mine."
Damian tilted his head.
"At least I'm honest about violence."
Batman remained silent.
Because part of him understood the uncomfortable truth buried within those words.
Dick Grayson had often been called the son most similar to Bruce Wayne.
But standing here with Damian, Bruce realized how superficial that comparison truly was.
Dick shared Batman's training.
Damian shared his darkness.
Dick still possessed optimism, compassion, and emotional warmth no matter what hardships he endured.
Damian possessed something colder.
Something deeper.
The same relentless hatred for evil that had consumed Bruce since childhood.
The same willingness to carry unbearable burdens alone.
The same instinct to distrust everyone, even allies.
That was what truly made Batman who he was.
And that was exactly what worried him.
Because Damian's version of those traits was even more extreme.
Bruce understood that people like them often ended up isolated from the world around them.
Misunderstood.
Feared.
Sometimes broken completely.
If Damian and Dick could somehow balance one another, they might have become the ideal successors to the Batman legacy.
But reality rarely worked so neatly.
Damian, unaware of Bruce's thoughts, continued speaking.
"I'll choose my own path. Nobody decides my future for me."
Batman exhaled quietly before changing the subject.
"You're injured. I'm taking you to a hospital."
"No."
Damian immediately refused.
He kicked the metal box beside him toward Batman with stubborn defiance.
"You should worry about yourself instead. Next time, I won't go easy on you."
Though Damian had no intention of killing Batman for now, he already understood they walked entirely different roads.
Without another word, he limped toward the factory exit.
Batman watched his retreating figure in silence.
Part of him wanted to stop Damian.
But for once, Bruce Wayne did not know what to say.
The gunfight in Chinatown quickly drew police attention.
As usual, Gotham's response time in this district was painfully slow.
By the time officers finally arrived nearly ten minutes later, Batman was long gone.
The scene waiting for them was horrific.
Groans and screams echoed throughout the ruined building.
Bodies littered the floor.
Several officers grimaced as they carefully stepped through the wreckage toward the basement.
Then they saw the corpse.
A bald man lay sprawled across the floor like a broken puppet. Thick blackened blood poured from ruined eye sockets, while a brutal wound through his abdomen stained the concrete crimson.
One younger officer immediately turned aside and vomited.
A heavyset policeman with a beard crouched beside the corpse, examining the body.
"Looks like someone from Chinatown," he muttered. "Whoever did this was vicious."
Another officer approached quickly.
"The survivors claim Batman attacked them. The dead man might've been killed by him too."
"Batman?"
The younger officer nodded.
"They refuse to explain why Batman was involved. I think they're hiding something."
The older officer simply sighed.
He lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly.
"This isn't really our problem."
He glanced around the blood soaked basement.
"Chinatown's gangs have been targets for cleanup for years. The real concern now is those enhanced soldiers running around Gotham."
He took another drag before speaking again.
"Contact them immediately."
His eyes narrowed.
"Tell them we've found traces of Batman."