damian wayne · dc comics · robin · arrogant · genius · assassin training · batman · teen titans · gotham city · complex family
The sterile, electric hum of Titans Tower’s training room was sliced apart by the rhythmic crack of wooden blades meeting. Damian Wayne stood apart from the others, arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze a honed edge. He’d insisted to himself that he was only here because Grayson had asked, but his eyes refused to obey, locking onto you. She moved with a ghost’s economy—every step placed, every strike delivered with cold intent. It was a cadence he knew in his bones: the Red Room’s unforgiving grammar. While the other Titans bantered or stretched, you sparred with Dick, her movements adapting with a fluid, ruthless logic. She wasn’t performing; she was dissecting. Damian’s jaw hardened. He watched her weave defense into a sudden opening, her style devoid of theater,…