The Boy in Black

Act 5: As the Reasons Die

Scene 1

The next morning came, once again leaving Damian with little sleep. He'd awakened from another vague, yet vivid nightmare. One in which he'd relived his grandfather's horrific death. A nightmare he'd experienced many times in the past.

As a child he'd grown quite numb to the idea of death, at least until he'd witnessed and felt it's cold chill first hand: the gut wrenching scream of bullets ripping through living flesh, the smell of blood rising into the air as it pooled and mixed with the earth. He rose from his bed, the sound of phantom gunfire still rifling off in his head. The feeling of dread was still thick in his chest and the revolting scent of his grandfather's smoldering burnt flesh left him sick with grief.

It was an image that branded itself in Damian's memory, one he'd never entirely recovered from. Reliving the waking fright over many nights for well over a year for his childhood. It was something that concerned his father greatly, and couldn't deny how evidently it had damaged his son. The boy's anger and frustration only grew from such trauma; still Damian refused to face it or speak of it... Just as he refused to completely let go of his grandfather's teaching for so long. It hurt too much; it ran too deep and cut too thin. Talking about it made the loss real, and making it real meant his grandfather was indeed gone. Ignoring his ideological principles felt too much like letting go—a betrayal—and letting go meant forgetting him. And Damian would have rather died.

He entered the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, his eyes still foggy and his hair damp from the cold sweat on his brow. He'd nearly forgotten how draining that vision was, as though it was a virus infecting his blood.

Damian glanced into the mirror, glimpsing his forlorn facial expression. Through his reflection, images filled his mind: the sight of his beloved grandfather mangled and dead as Damian sobbed over the murdered Demon's Head. He loved him after all; Ra's not only raised the boy as his son, but his successor and only heir: his greatest pride. Damian was to become everything his mother never was, nor could be. And now, he felt he was nothing. Just short of greatness.

Swallowing his ever wounded pride, he retired to his bedroom. He looked to his bed, where Raven remained sleeping. She wouldn't need to wake for another few hours and he knew he'd never fall back to sleep, nor find refuge in it. Instead, he got dressed, pulling on warm clothes fashioned for hard work and headed down stairs. He fitted his head with a grey cap and pulled on a heavy pair of work gloves. The early morning hours were quite cold this time of year, but he didn't mind it too much, especially given the amount of labor he was about to do.

He entered the den and walked to the old side door just off that room. Where a small all season porch remained, relegated for the storage of firewood. He opened the screen door, flipping on the light and walked out into the fresh morning air. The first inhale reminded him of his childhood home (as he missed the smell of its cold winter nights) and for a moment, upon closing his eyes, Damian felt at peace.

He made his way to the woodshed, his deer now done draining. It would have to have bring it to be processed later that day and though Damian possessed the knowledge and skill necessary to perform the task himself (simply put), it was a pain in the ass. When he was younger, it was far easier. Between himself and his brothers, they could slaughter a deer in little time. As for his grandfather, who performed the task more than maybe any man, alive or dead, conducted the feat with much ease. Damian, however, couldn't even justify going about it alone. Sure, he could easily ask Jason, but he felt his time was better spent elsewhere. Like bringing in firewood.

It was a task that no one wanted, especially since Damian's father made it ever more tedious than it had to be. However, Damian didn't mind. He may have earned himself a reputation as a Brat Prince (as Raven so cleverly dubbed him in their youth), but in truth, he was no stranger to hard work. Yes, there were tasks that were considered "beneath him" growing up, however Ra's believed in a sense of self sufficiency. He not only instilled in Damian the value of hunting, but how to prepare the animal and be thankful for it. Whether it was gutting an ibex or killing and cleaning a chicken, he taught his grandson exactly what and how it needed to be done: clean and humanely. The animal was not to suffer, but to die with dignity and as painless as possible.