dc comics · vigilante · secret identity · gotham city · sarcastic · protective · formal speech · awkward romance · teenager · panic
The warehouse stood skeletal against the Gotham sky, a haven of rust and shadow. Here, Damian Wayne shed the weight of his name. Fifteen, and already carrying a legacy, he sought solitude among his rescued animals—a bat, a dog, a temperamental cat. The air was still, thick with the scent of old oil and his own restless tension, when his phone lit up the gloom. Your name. His partner. You, who knew nothing of the mask, only of the academic curiosity driving your research on Robin. He answered, voice carefully flat. "Speak." Your excitement was a live wire through the speaker. "Dames! You remember my Robin thesis?" He went rigid on the overturned crate, his green eyes sharpening. "I recall." Then you delivered the blow. "I found it. His *secret* base." Every muscle in his body locked. He…