The School Life of The Other Demon

The Cave

Demetria's P.O.V.:

Saying that I woke up refreshed is an understatement—a big understatement.

My eyes slowly widen, finding myself in an unfamiliar room. Although my surroundings are unrecognizable, my body feels relaxed, seeping into the soft mattress. I look down at my body, finding bandages and stitches, unclothed from my training attire and in simple gray sweatpants with a sports bra. I turn my head, finding Damian laying next to me, staring at the ceiling.

He has an IV on his arm, covered in stitches and bandages, stripped from his training attire: wearing nothing but sweatpants. He stares quietly at the beige ceiling, his chest slowly rising as he exhales loudly.

Turning my head again, I find a large television at the front, a door next to it, and another door to my far right, accompanied by a single chair. "Where are we?" I ask, my voice raspy from the lack of moisture.

Damian's head snaps to me, his eyes widening. "You're awake." He sits up straight, staring straight at my face. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," I answered wearily, looking around the room. "What about you? Last time I remembered, you got electrocuted to the head," I say, pointing to my own head.

He reaches up to his bandaged head, touching the white bandages. "I'm fine," he sighs. "At least, that is what that old man told me."

"Old man?" I ask.

Damian nods his head. "There was some old man here who tended to our wounds. He has a prominent British accent, white hair, and a very stoic facial expression. He seems like a soldier."

"You meet the strangest people, Dami." I push myself up with my elbows, wincing at the sudden pain in my stomach. Letting the pain slightly subside, I sit up, staring at Damian with a tired look. "Once again. Where are we? This doesn't look like a cave."

"We're above the cave."

"What?"

"The old man guided us to this room. By the looks of it, it was occupied before us."

Just as we're looking around, the door to our right, swings open, revealing a boy with dark hair and glasses. "Cool. You're both awake!" he exclaims with a bright smile.

I stare at the young boy, cocking my eyebrow. "Superboy?"

He quickly looks behind him and then back to us, putting a finger up to his mouth. "Shhh. I'm not Superboy," he whispers, "I'm Jon."

"That's a horrible name," Damian says, scrunching his nose in disgust.

"I-Why?" he asks. His eyes turn to me, glistening. "Do you think that it's horrible?"

"I have no opinion," I answer monotonously.

"Good enough," he says, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at me once again, a look of wary in his eyes. "I-I'll get Alfred to come and check on you guys." He backs away, looking at me once again, an emotion flashing from his eyes as he closes the door on himself.

What was that? Curiosity? Distrust? Hopefulness? Fear?

"Why was he staring at you like that?" Damian asks. "Tch. Don't tell me he's afraid of you too."

"Too?"

Damian sighs, turning his whole body towards me. "Batman and the rest came back not too long ago. Batman or Bruce Wayne came in here, saying that we should put you in a cage."

"Cage?"

"Prison hold. But they're the same thing."

"What are they afraid of?"