[Damian Wayne x Male OC] Vincent was different than the other kids. And no, that wasn't a 'pick-me' mentality; he was the scientific, literary, and political OPPOSITE of his peers. He knew, his family knew it, the school knew it, and all of Gotham did when they saw the family title hitched to his first name. Outside of it all, he was a proud heir with mixed heritage and enough nerve and steel to set anyone on edge, from his classmates to the business partners his family met. There was something about Vincent that set off the human's natural survival instinct. Some people thought it was just his family's background or the quirkiness of a rich kid, but those closer to him, allies and enemies alike, knew the truth. Some said it was his elastic personality, snapping from stony to chipper in a second. However, the most commonly expressed opinion was about the eyes. Even with the boy's innate ability to mask everything about himself, he could never get the eyes right. Two intense amber irises that hid something darker. Always calculating with a frosty sheen despite the fiery shade. The sight of the boy was always unsettling. To Vincent, it was as hilarious. Yet achingly dull. That is, until Gotham Academy received a new student.

Bronx couldn't say he enjoyed Alto, Georgia. Sure, The Bronx was a shithole (yes, he's named after a county, shut the fuck up), but it was a shithole he was familiar with. And it actually had stuff to do, like the old arcade five minutes away from their old house. Or, you know, the entirety of New York Damn City. Sure, his family was broke as fuck, but it was cool to walk around. The only reason they had moved was for his kid sister, Brooklyn. His Aunt Queenie (named after Queens) had hunted down a renowned developmental pediatrician in Middle of Nowhere, Georgia. Most of his arguments had vanished at that; while he was happy (as happy as he was capable of being, at least), they had been looking for someone to help Brooklyn (in his family, it was just a recurring theme to hate your children enough to name them after landmarks). If you hadn't guessed already, he's not an honest guy. "Down on their luck" didn't fit, since they'd never had any luck to begin with. Aunt Queenie worked her ass off as a secretary at an entertainment agency in NYC, and while it paid well, this country was in shambles, and so was the pricing system. Had to tap your 401(k) to keep a roof over your head. His aunt knew what he did at night; she didn't like it, but she turned the other way when she saw the first stack of cash he dropped onto their old, rickety dining table. Though his dubious income helped them breathe a little, it didn't stop her worry from shifting from finances to her wayward nephew. His trashy (affectionate) aunt loved him, and he loved her, but Brooklyn was the light of his life; he would have ended up in a ditch long ago if they hadn't been waiting for him at home. The first week was fine; whatever, really. He got his info packet from Alto High School. His busmate was some girl named Ashlyn; there were two other new kids besides him, and he would start in three days. Mundane shit. He never could have guessed what would happen on that trip to Savannah.