[b]Gotham City, 01:00
Somewhere in the Narrows[/b]

It had taken some time to get a serviceable uniform in order given how much longer it had taken past Robins to be combat-ready by comparison, but by taking portions of the others costumes and combining them, Damian had managed to created a suitable facsimile for his purposes. The cape and utility belt from the Second Robin Memorial, Grayson's original mask and boots, the detachable R-symbol shuriken from Drake's outfit were all incorporated. Grayson's clingy, short boots gave Damian terrible traction as he sprinted across the rooftops, but they were the only ones that had fit a nine-year-old's feet. Thankfully he'd been able to use his own bodysuit and training gloves then quickly spray-paint a ballistic vest robin red with equipment at the Cave. Then it was child's play to hotwire one of the spare R-Cycles Father kept in the garage and take an access tunnel into the city.

Even late at night in the grimiest and most haunted corners, Gotham City felt gloriously alive. Noises drifted up to Damian in a cacophonous chorus of urban struggle, somehow forming a harmony from so many chaotic parts. Father thought he needed to be caged, but he'd never understood that this city should be Damian's birthright, the throne of his empire. Damian hadn't really understood it before either, but now the night air crackled and sang around him as blood pounded through his veins like thunder. Every leap from roof to roof felt like flying.

Damian's exultation was cut short by the panicked shriek of a nearby car alarm. Whatever imbecile had apparently left a half-decent car in an alleyway in the Narrows unattended deserved their fate-

Wait. No. Damian was Robin now. It could be fun to properly act the part. Besides, at some point he would have to begin cleansing the streets of filth and ne'er-do-wells. Best get some practice in now.

There were four men below him on the street, one holding a tire iron, the rest with weapons unknown. Damian aimed to neutralize the most obviously armed one first, leaping down onto him and wrapping his legs around the man's neck as he fell, spinning to throw him hard to the ground with an unsurprisingly well executed kani basami.

Damian had to roll with the fall to avoid injury, not bothering to check how badly he'd injured his first victim as they hit the ground and the tire iron clattered across the alleyway.     

Damian was smirking as he rose, but the three remaining carjackers were looking at him with a mix of amusement, shock and outrage.

Eventually outrage won.

"Look you little shit," began the one nearest to him, ever so articulately "I don't know what got into your stupid, tiny brain just 'cause Mommy bought you a Robin costume, but if you don't get the fuck out of here [b]right now[/b] I'm gonna-"

The threat was never elaborated on, mainly because Damian had crossed the space between them, front flipped to land on the poor man's shoulders and gouged at both of his eyes with mantis-fists before pummeling him all the way down as he fell. It hurt his fists to keep repeatedly hitting such a thick skull, but the pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction.

As Damian stood and turned it became apparent that he hadn't hurt the first one with the tire iron enough, seeing as he'd just gotten to his feet still swaying like a drunken camel. Damian glided back over to him on silent feet and kicked his leg out from under him. Then he grabbed the fool's arm, braced the elbow joint against his own body and wrenched. Hard.

[color=seagreen] [b]"-tt!- Now stay down, mongrel."[/b][/color]

In retrospect, Tire Iron may have been unable to hear him over the sound of bone breaking, tendons tearing, car alarms and wholly unnecessary screaming. Inconsiderate of him, really.

A soft flick-click and the sound of steps behind the would-be Boy Wonder made him whirl around on the balls of his feet.

[color=seagreen][i]Switchblade. Stabbing forward.[/i][/color]

Damian didn't have time to register anything else as years of conditioning took over where conscious control had been before. He seized the wrist, yanked the blade toward himself and and spun to avoid and redirect the force of the thrust, twisting his opponent's arm around and inward to impale him on his own knife. 

[i]Kill or Die.[/i]

The sucking sound of metal piercing flesh, the shuddering intake of breath that presaged the scream of agony, the hot copper scent of blood on his hands, none of it mattered in the face of that truth. He twisted the knife and-

There was another noise nearby, another enemy! Operating on training honed to instinct, the young assassin ripped the R-shaped Shuriken off of his vest and flung it at the last remaining carjacker, striking him in the groin with the throwing blade.

Damian was only able to process what he'd done after the man in front of him slumped over onto the ground, clutching the knife handle and moaning wordlessly in shock. The others were either unconscious or left in similar states of trauma.

The sense of joy and freedom he'd felt before was tarnished now. Damian had killed before, sometimes without batting an eye, but always because it was what he'd wanted or needed to do. Killing like this felt wasteful, wrong somehow. 

No, worse. He had promised Father he wouldn't kill as a condition of staying with him.

[color=seagreen][i]Does this mean I'd have to leave?[/i][/color]

Damian tried to think, pausing only to choke the tiny seed of panic in his head to death. Given the typical response time of emergency services in the Narrows, an anonymous tip would have too high a probability of failure. Also, It wasn't as though he could carry four grown men to a hospital on the R-cycle, and just leaving them in the street would mean certain death.

[color=seagreen][i]I could easily find a solution if not for that car alarm stabbing into my brain and-Oh!...Well this is going to be practically Kafkaesque.[/i][/color]

Damian struggled with loading each of the four men into the car they had just been attempting to steal before completing their job for them, far more competently of course. The plan did at least involve silencing the alarm before he hot-wired his second vehicle of the night even if he had to occasionally smack the semi-conscious passengers back into compliance. 

Then it was only a quick drive over to the non-for-profit emergency clinic of one Dr.Leslie Thompkins- mentioned extensively as a trusted confidante in his father's files -and the childishly easy task of starting up the car alarm again and slipping out of the car before anyone noticed him.

Still, when he finally stripped off his makeshift Robin costume, cleaned all of the blood off of the borrowed parts and scrubbed them for DNA remnants, returned the R-cycle with a full tank and finally collapsed into his own bed, it was with a great deal more questions about his place in the household than he'd had before he left.

[hr]
[b]Stately Wayne Manor,
Damian's room,
07:39[/b]

Damian's sleep was...troubled, to say the least throughout the night, so he felt almost relieved when he was shaken out of a half-dream state by a series of very specific vibrations against his wrist. It had taken an age and a half to get the Bat-Computer to signal him whenever someone entered the Bat-Cave, but it wasn't like he had had anything better to do.

Slipping down to the Cave first thing in the morning was becoming a bit of a habit for him. Just in case it was Pennyworth that had accidentally tripped his alert, he took care to try and make as much noise as possible as he entered through a false closet and started searching the Cave. The old servant had admonished him more than enough times about eventually tying a bell around his neck if he didn't, after all. Besides, Father would never forgive him if Pennyworth had some sort of attack because Damian had forgotten to make noise as he moved.

 "Kid, if you think you're sneaking around on me, then your father seriously underplayed how good I am at the games you capes play." 

Damian was more than surprised to find Helena Bertinelli, business woman and secret Mafia Don, sitting in the medical station. There were only a handful of people in the world with knowledge of the Batcave's existence and location.

Given everything Damian knew about her, which was considerable, there were only a handful of possibilities and [b]all[/b] of them were annoying.

Partly to be sure, and partly in exchange for the almost inevitable annoyance, he plucked a blunt batarang up off the floor and-

"If you throw that thing at me, swear to God you'll need your own medical attention..."

Damian lowered the batarang and stepped out of the shadows to face the Huntress's secret identity.

[color=seagreen][b]"-tt-, Do you even know how to work that device? I was unaware that they taught hematology at business schools. Or is it something anyone who dabbles in vigilantism and organized crime is expected to know?"[/b][/color]