A Weapon

Storm Clouds

Damian wondered what his father had in-store when he returned. Bruce hated it when someone questioned his marks even though he's responsible for them. He'd used to mouth off about it, complained about his father's stupidity. Try to explain how idiotic it was to blame him for bruising after Bruce made the conscious decision on hitting him in areas people can see.

But he eventually learned to silence himself. He just needed to be re-taught, he had already learned it with his mother. Puppets are made with their mouths painted shut for a reason.

The only word from a marionette is what their string-puller desires to hear. Free speech comes with a conscious mind and that simply isn't permitted. A vassal that talks out of turn receive do punishment.

To avoid punishment was easy in the league. Simple rules in place, one only needed to follow them. Damian was a quick learner so it wasn't that bad.

He shut himself off inside, locked away 'Damian' in the back of his mind, and became his mother's 'little Alexander'. Allowed Talia to craft the perfect weapon she so yearned for. That was his purpose of existence after all. He wasn't made to be a happy child in a mother's loving hold. His reason for life was forged from his mother's aspirations.

Talia desired a soul to control to the fullest extent and Damian would grant her wish. It wasn't as if he had any other options. Harsher punishments only awaited him if he didn't comply. Ones that would have broken him. To him becoming brainwashed was better than losing his mind entirely.

It was easy to direct then, rules and regulations. Taught and mastered, he knew how to act, feel, and speak but that wasn't the case with his father. With Bruce, he could never navigate the turbulent seas of his father's wrath.

It's weather Damian should be able to pilot through but his father's pandemonium is far more chaotic than that of his mother's.

Dark clouds cover the sky's around. The blooming roars of thunder circled his decrepit ship. Vicious lightning shot at his decaying wood, each strike burning what remains of his Safe Haven. The crashing waves are eager for him to fall in as they lashed against the sides.

He found the cold icy waters more welcoming than the storms above. It dared him to abandon his rip sails and rickety boards and submit himself to its dark waters.

And if he could only escape his chains he would. He knows not who tied them to him but he wishes for their disappearance. Without their hold, he'd be free. What was the reason for staying on a doomed vessel? Would the endless storm not eventually win?

Damian's compass wasn't useful in this instability. His maps might as well be burned. There's no rhyme or reason to his father's barking thunder. No forewarning to his fury of lightning.

Pain without foresight, anger lacking reason, silence counteracted with yelling. Nothing to guide Damian. He could only wait for what's to come.

His mind went dead with a touch. A hand laying over a fading bruise, Damian flinched without thinking. His apprehensive mind will someday be the death of him.

"Hey um who alright Lil' D ?" Dick asked hand hovering over the younger's shoulder. Worry laced his eyes.

Damian wielded his leaking emotions away "I am fine ."

"You sure? You've been zoning out this whole time ." Tim stepped in.

"I am sure ." Damian picked at his food. His salad was untouched, not having taken a bite during his wondering.

"Is something wrong?" Dick seemed to have picked up on this. "You haven't eaten ."

"I have already told you, I am fine ." He replied dully. "I was lost in my thoughts is all ."

"For 10 minutes ?" Tim raised a brow. The younger glares at the act, which Tim matches.

"Now there's no need for that ." Dick stopped it before anything started. He looks towards Damian. "We were just concerned, Dami. You've been staring off at the wall for the last few minutes ."

A click of the tongue gave tribute to Damian's habit. Concerned. Concerned for what? You didn't care before, only pretended. Now isn't any different. Don't act worried. I don't need fake affections. "Your worry is unwarranted ."

"I don't think it is ." Dick opposed.

"Well, I don't need it ." He growled out. Damian glared at the man beside him. Why must you always pick at the dead for worms? Can't you just leave me rotting in peace? Must you put on this show? Is it to torment me? With thoughts of better ? Chance of salvation? I will not fall for your false truth again. You will leave once more and I will be left worse than broken.

"I'm not trying to upset you Lil' D ." Damian had enough of this fake compassion and stood up.

"I will be in my room ."

"What? But what about your food You've haven't even ea-"

"Not hungry." Damian said flat.

Dick watches his brother leave with worry while Tim only rolled his eyes.

"Don't mind him. He's just being Damian ." The ex-Robin continued on his laptop.

"I don't know. He wasn't this shut off before ." Dick turned to the soon to be 21-year-old. "You wouldn't suppose it has something to do with his... slip-ups ?"

Tim looked over his computer at his brother. "You mean the marks ?"

Dick's eyes shift to the door Damian left through, frown deepening at the bitter taste on his tongue. "Yeah."

"I wouldn't be too worried about it. Knowing the demon he probably just got them from school fights or patrol." Tim assured looking back at his screen.

Truly it had been bothering him as well. He doubted all those marks were from combat. He had rarely seen Damian make mistakes on the field and hearing him admit to it was even more scarce. The ex-assassin was skilled in many areas. It was a given seeing as he was raised by the League of shadows, given the best tutors and farther training by two batmans. It didn't make sense for Damian to trip up this much. Not enough to get so many wounds or markings this often. There were conclusive signs of foul play transpiring but Tim wouldn't say anything.

He didn't want to think about it longer then he should, something about it made his stomach churn. Bathed him in the snaking suspicion, similar to the feeling he got on patrol. That gut feeling of 'something's not right' but he chose to push it to the back of his mind. It can't be that bad anyway. So why concern himself with it?

"If you say so ." Dick sighed.

End

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