Oneshots about our favorite DC fam with some unexpected twists involving our favorite bloodson and assassin who has a love for animals.
This work is for entertainment, but some content may be triggering in the form of discrimination, bullying, death...
Damian loved to patrol, solo or not, with his family. But this one could go straight to where it came from - to hell, where it was heading. That is to say, it could take the express train out of his life.
—Why?
He hadn't had a run in with any of Gotham's most feared - not Two-Face or the Joker, whom the family collectively did their best to prevent he ever met them, not Cobblepot/ The Penguin, neither Ivy, Harley, Scarecrow, the Riddler or even Condiment King, who are the most troublesome and annoying.
No, none of those. Though they might've made it more bearable. If only for his pride. The point of the matter was this: Damian had been on solo patrol, where he'd then found a scientist that imbecile Drake had on his list of people.
So what did he do?
Follow the guy to one-up Drake once more, obviously.
Well, turned out that didn't go exactly as he'd initially planned. He blamed some sense of Karma for that. When he realized he was found out the bastard had -as all lower class crooks eventually tended to do- ran and, when he'd caught up with him, managed to inject him with an unknown serum which hurt not only caused the initial and very real injury to his pride but also made his blood feel like fire was bursting through his veins.
The man then completed his escape while he was writhing on the floor. Convulsing. Biting back a scream of agony and rage.
Before he even realised it, he met the pavement and blacked out.
-
Which brings him to his current and very unpleasant problem.
Thankfully, the serum wasn't poison, which, he might've actually preferred given his current state. He was scowling with his face all scrunched up. He wanted to click his tongue, but instead a rumbling sound came out of his throat.
Yes, he very much hated this(though was secretly tempted to enjoy it).
The maniac had turned him into a fucking furry. And he meant that as in turned him into an animal, not dressed him up in a catsuit. He did not need to follow in Catwoman's fashion choice. Birds don't turn into cats. Neither do humans, but he seemed to have discovered otherwise; as a black leopard. An excellent specimen too, objectively speaking.
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He always wanted to own a large feline predator and, while it was an exquisite specimen, becoming one was not on his wish-list to Grayson. Not like this at least.
He's also sure he hadn't the fine motor skills to place an emergency call as he was convulsing, so no help to expect.
He tried to prop himself up as usual, back legs straightening and faceplanting as he didn't use his forearm--legs to carry his middle. He landed on the face a few times before he found his balance.
