Chapter Text
There is a small child on the steps to Wayne Manor.
This is, of course, not an impossible occurrence–new Wayne kids tend to be unexpected. But walking up to their door and ringing the doorbell is… definitely a more mundane way to enter their lives.
“Hello,” the child says, formal and polite, “I require an audience with Bruce Wayne.” Despite his almost painfully straight posture, he is still very short.
“Um,” Dick says, because not every kid is a Wayne in the making, “wanna tell me why?” Did Alfred let this kid in? What is going on?
The kid looks supremely unimpressed by Dick’s everything. “...Was I not clear enough when I specified Bruce Wayne?” he says, biting and dismissive and unfortunately adorable.
Dick stifles a grin. “Okay,” he asks, “who are you?”
“I am Damian al Ghul, heir to both the Demon’s Head and the Son of the Bat,” the kid says, and damn. Talk about a family reunion from hell. Also, Dick totally clocked him as a new Wayne, he absolutely called it.
“...I’m gonna go get B,” Dick responds, because this Damian probably won’t be willing to talk about anything else until he sees Bruce, and Dick doesn’t need to become an insult test dummy.
He turns, and Damian follows. This is the only reason that Dick does not yell, ’B, I think Ra’s has your DNA!’ to the general entranceway. He knows from experience sound doesn’t usually carry all the way to Bruce’s office from here, but some things just need to be yelled in consternation. Another time, maybe.
Son of the Bat, huh? That has to mean he knows.
I mean, Dick thinks, glancing back at Damian, who is regal and tiny and very unimpressed, he’s so little. He probably doesn’t know. How could he guess?
Well, Dick asks himself, what do we know about Damian al Ghul?
Fact number one: He is Bruce’s son. Fact two, he was raised in the League (most likely).
Nevermind, he’s absolutely a scheming bastard child, this kid has to know.
Dick carefully suppresses a sigh and leads the kid towards B’s office.
See, the thing is: Bruce is already going to be an uptight, paranoid, pain in the ass about this. There will demonstrably be someone looking for clues and inconsistencies, there will be a detective focusing every molecule of his hidden panic on discovering this child’s secrets. B will have that handled.
Which means Dick can just sit back and enjoy the chaos.
He does the ‘Bat business incoming’ knock on the outside of the office door, and gleefully swings it open, inviting this mysterious, sarcastic child into their life, for good or bad.
The kid, predictably, does not sit. Bruce, while definitely on alert due to Dick’s knock, isn’t in Bat-mode yet, so the air doesn’t feel colder when he glances at Dick for an explanation. Dick just gestures him towards the kid. God, their unimpressed faces are so similar, this is actually hilarious.
Baby Demon-Bat formally announces himself with two words primed to bring chaos: “Hello, Father.”
Bruce doesn’t visibly react, because he is The Batman, but if he’d been anyone else that would’ve been a spit-take worthy moment for sure.
The kid continues, “I have news of a situation that you might wish to aid.”
Still somewhere between Brucie and Batman, Bruce says, “Why are you so assured that I am your father?” Questioning tone, Batman. Formalities, Brucie. Absolute gobsmacked blindsided astonishment? Deliciously both.
Damian scoffs. “I am called the Son of the Bat. My Mother sent me to Gotham. How foolish do you think I am, to have not put such obvious clues together?”
My Mother.
Fuck, Dick thinks. Fuckity shitballs, actually, because the last thing they need right now (or ever,) is more of Talia al Ghul’s annoyingly competent nonsense.
“I fail to see the connection,” Bruce says, slipping closer to playboy. “My name is Bruce Wayne.”
“You are Batman,” the kid deadpans, not even pretending to be uncertain or hesitant. Hell, Tim knew, too, and he’d still been horribly anxious actually admitting it. Weird power play.
Although, if Talia ever wrote a memoir it could probably be called ‘Weird Power Play,’ so that’s technically another point towards Damian’s possible heritage.
In addition to the point of, he knows who we are, which relates to the League about ninety-nine percent of the (non-Tim related) time.
“It’s very confident of you to assume that,” Bruce says, clearly off guard (to Dick). This is the perfect time to play up Brucie, and he’s just stonewalling the kid? Amateur. This must be getting to him. “Who is your mother?”
“I think you know,” Damian says, with a seriously familiar smug attitude.
“Humor me.” Bruce’s words are as flat as his expression.
“Talia al Ghul,” the kid says, with the practically patented ‘al Ghul smirk of superiority.’
Bruce frowns. “How old are you?” he asks, diving straight into Batman questioning.
Damian sniffs. “If you must know, I am ten.”
“You must forgive me for being cautious,” Bruce says, and it’s all Bruce, not a hint of Brucie Wayne. “There are many who claim to be of my blood in the interest of seeking my fortune.”
“That is completely irrelevant,” the ten-year-old says to Bruce’s formal, bajillionaire face. Score. He continues, “I have a perfectly adequate situation of living, and no intention of moving from it.”
“You must submit to a paternity test to verify your claim,” Bruce insists, “or your whole suit could be based on a lie.”
“I am not here to prove my word through our connection,” Damian says, like being the Batman’s mystery son is irrelevant, and Bruce is stupid to be stuck on it, “I am here to offer Batman an opportunity to solve a problem in Gotham. Our connection should be irrelevant,” he adds, perfectly even and casual, “It simply got me through the door.”
Bruce Wayne is not an easy man to read. That being said, Dick can tell that all of his brain cells are on red alert right now.
“I will allow you the opportunity to present your case,” Bruce says, like he’s been in control of anything in this conversation.
“Excellent,” Damian says, obviously humoring Bruce. “Not that I would have allowed you to stop me from doing so.” Oh. Nevermind about the humoring, then.
“Do you not believe I have the capabilities of removing you from my property?” Bruce asks, in a very unsubtle, ‘if I’m Batman, I can take you out.’
“You are not hard to locate,” Damian dismisses. “If necessary, I could easily stage a crime. If unnecessary, I can track you down on the rooftops. But that–” he pauses for dramatic effect, “is not why I am here. I am here because there is a potential problem that you may wish to help rectify in Crime Alley.”
Bruce does a hm, this one so annoyingly neutral that even Dick can’t properly identify the emotion behind it.
“I understand you care for the people of Gotham,” Damian says. He might be trying to establish rapport–impossible to tell. Ineffective, either way. “And as they will soon be in some measure of danger or instability, in Crime Alley specifically, I thought you might want to lend a hand.”
If Bruce hadn’t already been fully invested, he would have started to be now. “You know of possible action via a rogue or gang?”
“Not as such,” Damian says, slipping into a clearly planned pitch. “The situation is, Red Hood is currently indisposed. This means that all of his plans and organizations are technically without an overseer at the moment. Being as most of his employees are recently from gangs or working for villains, he is worried they may slip back into a different avenue of work.”
This kid works for Red Hood?
Wait, Red Hood works with the League?
“And what do you think I can do about this?” Bruce is fully focused and intent.
Damian gives him a look, like it’s obvious. “You care about Gotham. He cares about Gotham.”
“Red Hood does not care about Gotham,” Bruce says firmly, cutting ties instead of exploring the situation. “He is a criminal, a crime boss, and a murderer.”
Rolling his eyes, Damian pushes back, “I am not saying you must patrol with him, I simply–”
“You are implying–”
“The conversion of warehouses to safe housing is almost complete,” Damian says, cutting him off. “We just need a few more weeks.”
We. Now, to see if this is a Talia we or not…
“Hood cannot currently supervise the construction workers,” Damian continues. “We simply need someone of–” he looks scornful “–adult height to keep any possible nefarious activities in check.”
“And you believe I am the best option for this,” B deadpans.
“You are not one of the Rogues,” Damian says, which, low fucking bar, “and you are not caught up by bureaucracy.”
To Dick’s experienced gaze, Bruce looks deeply confused, which is hilarious, because Dick is following just fine. When B glances over, Dick does his best ‘we should hear him out’ shrug.
“I will not promise anything,” Bruce says firmly, because he likes to have nice little caveats on things, “But I am willing to hear you out.”
Score!
“Excellent,” Damian says, with much more dignity than the cheerleading section of Dick’s brain.
“I will, of course, require more information before making any sort of decision,” Bruce adds, which is basically just saying start talking again.
“I cannot give you the location until I know you will not destroy it,” Damian says, just as firm as Batman.
Bruce, predictably, begins to take offence.
Damian raises a hand. “While Gotham seems to trust you, I am relatively new to it, and perhaps know better.”
Ouch. B is not going to take that one well.
“Or perhaps I'm wrong. We shall see,” Damian adds, turning a smackdown into a motivating taunt like a horrible little genius. “I can give you a list of many gang members and former hench people who are now employed by us, and you can cross-reference the fact that they have not been doing crime.”
“You are involved with the Red Hood,” Bruce says accusingly, because he also caught the ’us’ in that statement.
“Yes,” Damian states firmly, adding a serious, “we are business partners.”
Bruce doesn’t blink, but the minute pause is close enough for him. “You are business partners with a criminal.”
“Yes,” Damian enunciates carefully, “keep up.”
If Dick wasn’t in Bruce’s direct line of sight, he’d absolutely be cackling with silent giggles. Unfortunately, he’s currently inside the Batglare’s radius.
Damian continues. “Red Hood is doing more for Crime Alley recently than you have in the past, say, five years.” Which is a bold thing to say to Batman’s face, but Dick is getting the idea that this kid is brave as hell.
“It may very well be a setup,” B just barely doesn’t growl. This must be really frustrating for him, but he’s holding it together.
Dick hasn’t been able to pull off the cute-annoying thing with B in years, and for a second he’s almost wistful. Dick’s well-honed little shit energy usually gets either ignored or shut down.
“Are you not the Batman?” Damian asks, clearly exasperated. “Can you not simply grapple away?”
Bruce’s face isn’t fully blank anymore. Impressive feat, for the new kid.
After a second, Damian sighs. “Must I really make this simpler?” And, oh boy. Oh, he’s going in for the ‘explain it like Bruce is five’ thing, but not in a helpful way.
“We have employed former criminals to do good work, building housing.” Damian tells Bruce, then pauses. “Housing is good, correct?” he confirms exaggeratedly. “You would like there to be more housing. For people in need, correct? You would like criminals to do good work instead of crime?”
"In Crime Alley." B says, and wow, Bruce. Way to go and show your prejudice.
Damian looks at Bruce like one might view a slug accidentally stepped on. "Are all Gothamites goth?"
Okay, this needs to be interrupted. Plus, Dick is having a hard time stifling laughter, even if a lot of it is from discomfort. “Are we sure he’s yours, B? This is hilarious.”
Dick gets a (warranted) glare for that, but Bruce is apparently extra patient today (or scheming), so he just sighs and turns to Damian. “You are simply asking for check-ins?”
Damian confirms with a nod. “I would like the Batman to show up perhaps twice in the next two weeks and put, essentially, the fear of the bat into these people.”
“And this would not be encroaching upon Hood's influence? He would not take offense?” Bruce asks, frowning slightly (to Dick’s practiced eye, anyway.)
“If he wanted to have a say,” Damian sniffs, “he should have taken better care of himself.”
Bruce raises an eyebrow, having re-found the topic he wants to focus on. “What is your relationship with the Red Hood?”
“As I said before, we are business partners.”
After a second, it’s almost like the kid sees it too. The way that Bruce has switched into interrogation mode, about to refuse to be shifted. And Damian turns to Dick next.
“Nightwing,” the impossible, immovable child says, like he’s talking to a baby, “housing is good, yes?”
Dick cuts that right the hell off, because he’s not Bruce Wayne and therefore doesn’t need things to be explained seven different times before getting his head out of his ass. “I'm already with you, kid. We've been through that bit. I understand. Now, um, I don't know about Bruce,” he chances a glance over, but continues despite the frown he sees, “but I believe in my ability to get out of a bad situation. And–Sure, I'll stop by.” Hopefully that’s not too deep of a dig. Hard to say, with Damian trampling all over Bruce’s orderly way of doing things and insulting his intelligence.
Yep, Dick gets a Batglare, but not an overly poisonous one. Bruce just hmms at Dick’s shrug, and then Damian is taking control of the wild ride again.
“Excellent. When are you free for said check-ins? I can arrange the schedules for the most unreliable workers to be there at the point that you make your appearances.”
And then they’re off. Logistics, coordination, planning, all completely ignoring Bruce.
Bruce allows this, with one caveat. He gives Dick the track the hell out of this kid look and signal, and Dick nods (carefully hidden in another motion, of course).
Normally, Dick would tell him to fuck off with that, because this is a kid. Sure, stabby and schemey and sarcastic, but a kid.
But. Damian’s probably staying with the Red Hood. Which could be dangerous–they don’t know too much about Hood, but a connection to the Bats or the Waynes is a very useful thing to have in Gotham, and leverage against them? Doubly so. This kid has both, if he wants them, and Hood might be unaware now (hopefully,) but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay that way.
Plus, it’s important to make sure that the Red Hood is actually safe for this kid. League-raised or not, Damian is still ten years old.
Tonight and two more evenings. That’s it.