[center][img]http://www.baku-panda.org/images/Dami+post.png[/img]
[color=crimson][sub]"[b]On His Demon Head's Secret Service[/b]" // Part 04 // [ [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwcVXnTN7D4]Dami's iPod[/url] ][/sub][/color][/center]
[color=crimson][b]Bludhaven[/b]
Avalon Hills[/color]

He walked out the front door like he owned the place.

A plastic Target bag swung back and forth as he walked, the outline of a man's face pressed against the translucent walls. The faint hum of police sirens was on the wind, still a distance away as the boy approached the rented Volvo that was parked on the street in front of the home. Walking around to the back of the car, the child threw open the trunk to reveal a large Coleman ice chest inside the boot. Popping the top on the ice box, the boy slung the head down into the chilled chest before shutting the lid and then dropping the trunk.

[color=goldenrod][i]♪...I'm a devious degenerate defender of the devil shut down all the trash compactors on the detention level.... My backpack's got jets... I'm Boba the Fett...♪[/i][/color]

Head swaying from side to side, the boy mouthed in time to the rhythmn of MC Chris' rapping the chorus as he pulled open the passenger door and hopped into the back of the car.

His head snapped to the right sharply. 

[i]Good job, Damian... Well done, Damian... Excellent work, Mister al Ghul.[/i]

Yeah, that shit wasn't happening.

The stinging sensation didn't kick in for a few seconds after he'd been slapped. Defiantly, the boy brought his seething green eyes -- emeralds aglow with the baleful light of hell's fire -- up at the woman in the [i]niqab[/i] who sat in the driver's seat. In many cultures, looking someone in the eye was a sign of aggression.

The boy's head snapped to the left with the backhand, the taste of blood hitting his tongue. She was yelling at him in Arabic. About how he took too long. About how he was lazy. Undisciplined. About the difference between a killer and an assassin. Or something about finesse, whatever. He really couldn't have said at that point. He was just staring up at the roof of the car and not really listening anymore.

As the car rolled away from the house, the boy slid over until he'd flopped over across the back seat. Watching the lights as they passed through the windows. His lips moving as he mouthed the question, [i]Am I alive?[/i]

Reaching into his pocket, the boy pulled out the small MP3 player that supplied music to the ear buds propped into his ears. With a flick of his thumb, the child turned up the music until the world just seemed to drown out behind the noise.