Scars

Chapter 2: Demon Child

Again and again, his fingers tapped against the side of his skull, hoping to ease some of the aching currently pounding his brain to mush. A sigh fell from Damian's lips, something that went unnoticed by everyone else in the apartment. But that was to be expected, of course. With the ruckus in the apartment's kitchen, an explosion could go off in the next room over, and it would be all but ignored. Everyone had Jason fucking Todd to thank for that one, folks.

In the kitchen, Jason was singing loudly and very, very off-key to the music he had turned on three hours ago- if one could call the insufferable noise music at all! The so-called 'music' Jason favored was heavy metal, hard rock, and trace amounts of screamo, all of which Damian despised with a bloody passion. He did not see why so many people- imbeciles, every last one of them –found the overbearing drums, bass, and despairing messages to be appealing. And Damian only grew to hate it more and more with every passing second Jason spent dancing and singing with his unholy voice in the kitchen. By the cruel and dark smirk playing on Jason's lips, it didn't seem he was going to stop anytime soon.

Oh God, why hadn't the neighbors called the cops for disruption of peace?! Even Dick- the fountain of never-ending, intolerable enthusiasm –had grown weary of Jason's game some time ago.

Speaking of Dick, Damian got up from his seat, which he had not left in quite some time, and began trekking across the room. He passed Tim, who was curled up in a recliner with his laptop in his lap and headphones in his ears in an attempt to block out Jason's doings, and hopped onto the bed the pull-out couch provided. He crawled across until he stopped beside Dick, a pillow pressed firmly over his face and ears as he lay on his side. Damian doubted its abilities to block out the music or Jason- dear God, the man was now head-banging while he played an air-guitar; did the horrors ever cease? –and called Dick's name, shaking the man's shoulders. A moment later, the pillow was removed as Dick looked over his shoulder. He practically had to yell to be heard as he said, "What do you need, Dami?"

"I need for that imbecile to turn off the God-awful noise he calls music!" Damian stated seriously, his eye just about on the verge of ticking nervously. His fists were clenched tightly, knuckles slowly draining of their color.

Dick sighed a very weary sigh, something that had Damian's heart dropping. After all, this was Richard Grayson, the only one in the family who could stem any of Jason's moods without swinging him into a new one entirely, even if the second Robin only became docile for a short time. If Dick was sighing over a mission he had taken many times before, then there was no hope for the world. Every living thing would perish soon enough, probably from being exposed to Jason, his singing, and his supposedly 'sexy' dancing (did the man possess any shame?! Had the Lazarus Pit really screwed him up that bad?!).

"Dami, I don't think I can do anything at this point. My batteries are completely fried."

And why shouldn't he be? It was three in the morning, and all four of them had been working nonstop on a case since two AM the day before. They were all exhausted after working both on the physical front and the research side for almost a straight twenty-four hours, and they had promised Alfred before leaving Gotham that they would take care of themselves, which meant adequate amounts of sleep between late night researching and early morning fist-fights.

However, somebody decided that they were simply too good for sleep. But then, maybe Jason just wanted them to suffer. He had seemed more annoying than usual, with his cruel sarcasm and bitter bites.

Damian, not for the first time, wished he had stayed in Gotham with his father. Really, the only reason he had come along this out-of-state trip was because of Bruce's suggestion and Dick's pestering, both of them claiming it would be good for all four boys to work together without the immediate supervision of Bruce. However, that had been a load of bull-crap, and everyone on the trip knew that. After all, it was only day two of this trip, and Jason and Tim had almost gotten into a brawl over something petty (Damian cared not what the issue was), Tim and Damian almost did the same soon after the first initial fight (this one wasn't petty, of course; Damian only fought for things worth his time, though others disagreed), and Dick had almost 'accidentally' fallen off a roof (stray, rubber bullets simply did not just magically appear on rooftops for people to trip over, but Jason swore they weren't his).