Not Part of the Job [ORIGINAL]

1. Introduction

Damian Al Ghul was as agile as an olympic gymnast, except better.

Of course, this is not a surprise to most. He was raised by two of the most powerful people in the world, after all. No one could compete with Talia and Ra's Al Ghul; the demon's head and his loyal daughter.

His mother had raised him to be as strong as physically and mentally possible, and that meant showing no emotion. She wanted her son to be a perfect soldier.

The smell of blood lingered heavily in the apartment after a brutally beaten body finally gave out. After raiding the room for what he needed, Damian fled the scene without a trace.

This was just an ordinary night for the sixteen year old boy. Finding his target, getting a clean kill, and collecting the debts. It was a routine by now.

However, this is not why the young assassin was sent to the fabled Jump City. He was actually sent here by the League of Assassins to kill a certain girl that goes by Raven. And, on the flash drive in his hand, was all the necessary information about his new target.

Once he made it back to the safe house he was staying in, he grabbed a bite to eat and got to his computer, immediately plugging the flash drive into it. As soon as he opened up the information, his eyes scanned frantically over the words.

Raven: a demon/human hybrid. Daughter of Trigon. Member of the Teen Titans. She is currently seventeen years old. Her powers are tied to her emotions. Her abilities include but is not limited to: telekinesis, darkness control, force-fields, teleportation, empathy, levitation, healing, and spell-casting magic. She's a walking bridge between the underworld and Earth.

"This is gonna be a pain in the ass," Damian mumbled to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, looking at the computerized image of a black haired girl with violet eyes and a noticeable gothic fashion sense. At least it wouldn't be too difficult to find her.

After reading over all the data, he took the flash drive out and shut down his computer. He made his way to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes, admiring himself in the mirror before stepping into a hot shower. As he rinsed himself off, he watched as crimson ran down his legs and into the shower drain. The sight of blood didn't even faze him at this point.

When he got out, he dried himself off with a towel and put on a pair of sweatpants. He decided he was calling it a night and crashed onto the bed.

Tomorrow, he would successfully complete his mission. Or at least that's what he thought.