Clothed in our grief

Chapter twenty five

The boat yard off of Gotham Harbor is just another twisted reminder to Damian that Penguin isn't in Arkham right now. Staring off past the water to set his eyes on the large building shaped like an iceberg is all just there to taunt him as if Penguins in there right now, while he's doing something else. While Damian's busy with something more personal, something big could be going on down at the iceberg lounge.

This was on purpose. Scorn was trying to make him choose what he was going to do. Who knows what Penguin is doing right now. One thing for sure, Damian doesn't know what he's doing right now. Plotting, planning, scheming something. But he can just leave now, save for one girl that he just so happens to know. It's not that simple, unfortunately. He can't just go and hopes that Scorn leaves her alone, while he goes and gets the jump on Penguin to figure out what he's doing or figure out what he's been doing.

There's another issue at hand here, Scorn knows it all. He knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, he knows that Damian Wayne is Robin. And with a little digging with a pick axe? He found Damian's backstory. Everything he couldn find out, anyways. Knowing Scorn, he has no real concern in money or things of that sort. Damian knows this, Scorns only in it for the enemies he makes. He lives off of making everybody he hates understand why he calls himself Scorn.

Damian knows that Scorn wouldn't even think twice about spilling it all if it turned you against him. And He always seems to be two steps behind Scorn, this is only because he has the benefit of staying still for a couple of years. Planning, with the means to back it up.

"Damn you, Drake." Damian mumbled to himself as he held up the scanner to each metal cargo crate he passes by. The silent beeping sounds signalling if there's anything weird or out of the ordinary. Something he knows he should be looking for. And with ever step, the dock he's walking on moves just a little bit that unsettles him. Swaying on the water as if the chains have been cut, or the pillars have been moved.

This all started because when Tim was Robin, Scorn first encountered him. One of his first missions, apparently. And Tim just had to go and break his leg. Tim probably didn't know any better at the time, to him it was just an accident. And to Tim, it was just a broken leg. But Scorn got away, and nursed himself back to health with anger.

"I see you're still as lost as ever, Robin." A booming voice came from one of the speakers in the boatyard, hoisted up on a post. Causing Damian to turn his head around in the dark and reach for the small handheld flashlight in his utility belt. Assuming at first, it could have been Scorn behind him. Only to press his thumb to the soft button and have the light shine up on a small black box-speaker hanging to a post. As initially expected.

"Where is she? I'm in no mood for games." Damian stated, looking away from the black speaker and going back to scanning some of the crates. The empty cargo shipment containers would be used to import and export goods in and out of Gotham, some he knows may or may not be legal. Scorn did this on purpose, to see if he can distract him. Save one girl and his secret, or unfold an ongoing plot.

"But I am." The voice came from another part in the boatyard this time, sounding more electronic and jumbled than last time. He's messing with him now, and Damian knows this.

"She's just a civilian. You've never killed someone completely innocent before." There's a list of the people that Scorn's killed. Albeit, a short list. Scorn likes to think of himself, not as a criminal, but as someone doing what needs to be done. Yes, there are casualties. People die. And it's exactly why he needed to be stopped, along with his older partner. Wrath.