I Forgot to Mention

Atlas

Damian didn't even flinch as the grandfather clock informed the manor of the change in hour.  It had to be one-no, two in the morning, by his count, leaving yet another three hours until the servant awoke and would relieve him of guard duty.  Yes, this night held little difference from the previous, or really any since he had first been placed in his "father's" custody. 

"Tt," Damian scoffed, still unsure what that word even meant to him.  At only five years old, he was a prodigy, but certain concepts could be...confusing.  Letting out a tired sigh, he gently rubbed the side of his head.  It doesn't matter in the end, though he would often find himself pondering such new ideas during the longer portions of the night.  He supposed it was lucky that so few threats occurred in the manor after dark, but that didn't stop him from remaining vigilant.  Even in the calmest waters, a shark could still strike. 

"You know we have security cameras for a reason."

Had he been just a touch more awake, Damian would have easily decapitated the older boy before he even entered the room.  Embarrassed at his failure, Damian silently sank further into the couch, peering out angrily from behind the armrest.  It was one of his so called brothers.  It wasn't the easiest thing to tell them apart, at least, to someone who hadn't been trained from birth to notice even the subtlest of details.  Bright blue pajamas pointed towards the oldest, but it was the cheerful smile that clinched it.

"Grayson," he cordially acknowledged, the same as he always does.  This time, instead of a quick reply and the two going their own ways, Grayson took a seat.  This behavior was certainly odd, causing Damian's eyes to narrow.  None of the fake heirs, Grayson included, would ever willingly hang around him, fear always drove them away.  Yet, here they both sat, almost comfortable with each other's presence.

"I take it Dad's talk about security didn't have much of an impact."

Hmph, Damian recalled suffering through the tour of the monitoring room, as well as the explanation of the security systems, and the absolute chore that was observing his father's demonstration of his abilities. 

"We're not weak either, ya know?"

God.  Was Grayson STILL talking?!

"You'll see, one day, but for now, you should just relax and trust that Dad won't let anything happen to us."

Damian wanted to scoff at the older boy's blind faith, but he instead he merely spouted one of his mother's favorite proverbs.

"Even the strongest leaders will one day fall."

Grayson blinked a few times, no doubt digesting the wisdom.  However, instead of solemnly conceding defeat and returning to bed, his grin exploded and he doubled over in laughter.  Tears were brought to his baby blue eyes, while rage corrupted the turquoise of Damian's.

"It's not funny! The worst attacks come in peace times, how could you possibly think one man of business can keep this entire clan safe?"

As Grayson calmed, he fell into a thoughtful look.

"I meant what I said, we're not as weak as you think, not just Dad, but Jay and Timmy, and even myself, heck, Alfred for sure could take out an army. It's a lot different here than you're used to, I get that. I came from a traveling circus, and I remember how my uncle would stay up longer than anyone else when we camped in certain cities. Then, my Tati would wake up extra early and take over. They were a team, it wasn't one person's job to keep everyone safe, but we all trusted each other and in everyone's abilities."

It would be too much to ask Damian to put absolute trust in what amounted to strangers in his mind, though Grayson seemed to understand.

"Maybe, you could just trust in me for now. I already trust you, so how about it?"

***
Damian felt his eyelids flutter, as he attempted to find some strength.  A lazy but determined tug of his appendages yielded nothing good. As his senses slowly started to return, different stimuli made themselves known. A faint beeping in the distance, a soft pillow under his head, an unfamiliar scent in the air, Damian unconsciously drank it all in. Light began filtering into view, while the room opened up into sight. It wasn't anything special, white walls and silver tray tables filled with random first aid tools suggested a typical infirmary. Generally, such places invited healing under an umbrella of a ceasefire, but even the most unassuming locations could harbor plenty of threats.

Damian's breathing was steady as he attempted to scan for danger. Nothing seemed particularly alarming at the moment, other than the confirmation that he was indeed tied up at the wrists and ankles. Strapped to a bed, in an unknown location, away from any identifiable allies, his night surely could have gone better.  Well, he wasn't planning on letting end this way.  It was a given that his belt was confiscated, along with any communicators and batarangs.  Growling in frustration, he thought back to a recent argument about installing lasers in their masks.

Joke's on you Father, Todd was right-

Ugh, Damian felt a shudder run down his spine while he quietly agreed with himself to never even THINK of the words Todd and right in the same sentence ever again.  Regardless, a laser would be useful right about now.  How did he even wind up in this situation?  Shaking his head, Damian was always told that it didn't matter how it happened, the true test is how will he can handle it.  And so far, he would have deeply disappointed his Mother, though the jury is still out on his father's reaction.  He felt the padded cuffs once more, and he was still unable to rip them from the bed with brute force.  However, he did note that whoever tied him down did so rather loosely.

Now, he couldn't just slip out of his bindings, but he did find that if he tried hard enough, he could get his hand to turn.  Yet another glaring oversight he just noticed was that he was still wearing his gloves and boots.  Obviously, the enemy assumed he would have remained unconscious for far longer than he actually was, while presuming that the mere existence of the cuffs would have kept him secure until they arrived on the scene.  These petty notions and underestimation were their own fault, as was leaving a scalpel just a bit too close.