Angst Damian Wayne One Shots

Shadows of Family

Damian Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne, stood alone on the rooftops of Gotham, the chill of the night air biting at his skin. The city stretched out below him, a tangled maze of concrete and chaos, but he felt utterly disconnected from it. The moonlight cast eerie shadows, playing tricks on his mind. He had spent his life in darkness, yet tonight, he was overwhelmed by the emptiness that surrounded him.

For years, he had been trained to be the perfect warrior, molded into a weapon by his mother, Talia al Ghul, and the League of Assassins. He had embraced that identity, throwing himself into the role of Robin, the sidekick of Batman. But now, it felt like a heavy shroud, suffocating him. He was more than just a mask, more than just a tool in his father's crusade against crime. But every time he tried to voice those thoughts, they were met with dismissal.

"Damian, you need to work with the team," Bruce had said just days before, a hint of frustration in his voice as they prepared for another mission. "You can't keep pushing everyone away."

"I don't need them," Damian had shot back, anger flaring in his chest. "I can do this on my own."

Yet, deep down, he knew that wasn't true. He was isolated, a lone wolf in a family of heroes who were all too eager to keep him at arm's length. They loved him, he was sure of that, but the shadows of their pasts cast long over their relationships, leaving little room for genuine connection.

Over the past few months, the Bat Family had faced increasingly intense threats—rival gangs, metahuman villains, and even resurrected foes. Each encounter had raised tensions, revealing cracks in their tight-knit group. While Bruce was the stoic leader, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and even Jason Todd had their ways of coping. But Damian struggled to fit in. He often felt like an outsider, a foreigner in his own home.

The breaking point had come during a confrontation with the Court of Owls. In the heat of battle, while they fought to protect Gotham's innocent, Damian had made a split-second decision to go off on his own. It was reckless and dangerous, and when Bruce found him cornered by Talon, he had been furious.

"What were you thinking, Damian?" Bruce had yelled, his voice echoing in the empty alleyway as he and the rest of the family had rushed to his aid. "You can't just leave the team like that!"

"I'm not your little soldier!" Damian had shouted back, the words bursting from him like a dam breaking. "I'm not a pawn in your game! I can take care of myself!"

The argument had spiraled out of control, anger and hurt spilling into every word exchanged. By the time it was over, Damian had stormed off, retreating to the solitude of his room in Wayne Manor, feeling more alone than ever.

The next few days passed in a haze. Damian trained harder than usual, pushing his body to its limits, but the physical exertion couldn't drown out the emotional turmoil that churned within him. He felt trapped in the family dynamics, caught between the expectations of being a Wayne and the darker legacy of being an assassin.

That night, as the rain fell in heavy sheets against the window, Damian made a decision. He couldn't stay. Not like this. He needed space to breathe, a chance to discover who he was outside the shadows of Gotham and the looming presence of his father.

He packed a small duffel bag—some clothes, his utility belt, and a few necessities. He had money saved from his allowance and odd jobs, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of excitement mixed with anxiety.

He slipped out of the Manor unnoticed, blending into the night like a ghost. The streets were alive with sounds—the distant wail of sirens, the chatter of late-night patrons, and the rustle of leaves in the wind. Gotham was chaotic, but it felt comforting somehow.