What's a Black Bird without her Robin?
Black Birds run in the family. Dick had Grace. Jason had Estella. Tim had Rachel. Damian had Lorri.
He was obnoxious and rude. Made himself at home. Imposed on the delicate life you and Bruce had composed. And...
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"Damian?" You called, as Bruce chatted on the phone.
You knocked on his door. He had been off ever since the hostage mission had went well.
"Damian?" You called again. "Damian, talk to me. I'm always here. I know what if feels like... I can help you."
No response.
You became frustrated. "Damian, quit being a little bitch and open the door!"
You let out a warning growl, before shoving open the door.
"Lorri?" You heard Bruce call.
"He's gone!" You called back. "And he took the fucking suit!"
"Shit. How far's the rig?" You heard Bruce ask Dick.
••
You had gone off on your own. Fuck Batman. You were in love with this boy. He was your Robin, and though you had hardly met him, you signed an invisible contract when he put on that costume, and that mask. You were going to protect him. He wouldn't end up like Jason, or Grace. He was your Robin. The only thing anchoring you to reality.
He was going to be there during the Wayne conferences, and during the balls, but he would also be there at patrols and robberies.
He was your Robin.
You swam to the shore of the rig, and snuck onto it. You could hear distant struggling, and found an open vent.
Damian.
You wiggled through the compact space, once again, feeling claustrophobic, but you ignored it. You found Damian in no time, and Talia al Ghul.
You fought the urge to kill her on the spot, she was already in bad shape, and focused that rage on Deathstroke.
Just then, Talia moved.
"Run, Damian!" She cried, shoving Deathstroke.
You leaped into action, and kicked the gun Deathstroke had. You threw some basic attacks, which he easily dodged.
"Black Bird!" You heard Robin call. "Don't!"
He was too late. Deathstroke whipped a knife out of thin air, and stabbed you in your shoulder. You screamed, hand going up to your shoulder. The shock had scared you, not the pain. The stab was shallow. It was a warning.
You felt Batman run past you, shoving you back. He always stole the spotlight. You fell back, landing near one Talia al Ghul.
"Oh, you poor thing." She whispered, eyes hardly open. "You must have been forced here."
You glared, ripping the knife out of your shoulder, and holding it above Talia. She wrenched her eyes shut, too weak to scream in terror.
The knife landed inches from her head, and you stood, running through a crowd of shrieking man-bats.
