Damian Wayne | Robin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earlybird) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamsanddisasters2014-08-24 02:29 pm
earlybird) wrote in dreamsanddisasters2014-08-24 02:29 pm
Entry tags:
Gotham AU (For Asher)
[ There may be a half-a-billion dollar bounty on his head, but Damian doesn't let small things like assassins put him off doing his job. Pennyworth has tried and failed to keep him at home, at bay, especially with his father on a quick international trip for business and the Batman on hiatus for a few days, but Damian is Robin.
There's been word of a new force in Gotham shaking up the underworld, and his father had just started in on the case when he'd been called away. Damian's here to pick up the slack and find out more information. If there's someone looking to upstage one of the big bads, they have to know about it. Especially in the wake of the entire Joker affair.
He's on the case. Nightwing and Red Robin aren't any help - they just nag him about the bounty, how he shouldn't be seen in the field, even though he can see the assassins coming from miles away. So he's on his own for this one.
Good. Just the way Li'l Matches likes it.
The club is distasteful, as are most clubs. Lewd, sleazy, but a favorite gathering point for different members of the criminal sections here in Gotham. He bluffs his way past the doorman (the name Matches Malone can carry him far), and navigates his way through the press of bodies. Damian doesn't even have to work to get the sharks circling; he just claims a VIP booth in the back, settles into the cushions with a glass of iced water, crosses one pin-striped leg over the other, and waits.
Everybody wants their piece, and the dogs will lick his heels if they think they can get an in with Matches through his son. Too stupid to see how he's leading the conversation, digging into questions about the new threat in town under the guise of defending Matches' territory. Idiots.
It's all going perfectly according to plan until a mid-level punk from one of the other families shows up and decides that this is the night to pick a fight with the lone boy.
Sixteen to one isn't bad odds for Robin, but it's less than good for Li'l Matches, who's quickly scruffed and dragged into the back alley kicking and sneering the entire way, even when he's bent double from a fist to the gut or smacked against the slick brick wall with a heavy backhand against his cheek. He's spitting blood at the feet of his aggressors, lip curling.
Can't. Break. Cover. ]
My father will see you pay for this, you Falcone lackey.
There's been word of a new force in Gotham shaking up the underworld, and his father had just started in on the case when he'd been called away. Damian's here to pick up the slack and find out more information. If there's someone looking to upstage one of the big bads, they have to know about it. Especially in the wake of the entire Joker affair.
He's on the case. Nightwing and Red Robin aren't any help - they just nag him about the bounty, how he shouldn't be seen in the field, even though he can see the assassins coming from miles away. So he's on his own for this one.
Good. Just the way Li'l Matches likes it.
The club is distasteful, as are most clubs. Lewd, sleazy, but a favorite gathering point for different members of the criminal sections here in Gotham. He bluffs his way past the doorman (the name Matches Malone can carry him far), and navigates his way through the press of bodies. Damian doesn't even have to work to get the sharks circling; he just claims a VIP booth in the back, settles into the cushions with a glass of iced water, crosses one pin-striped leg over the other, and waits.
Everybody wants their piece, and the dogs will lick his heels if they think they can get an in with Matches through his son. Too stupid to see how he's leading the conversation, digging into questions about the new threat in town under the guise of defending Matches' territory. Idiots.
It's all going perfectly according to plan until a mid-level punk from one of the other families shows up and decides that this is the night to pick a fight with the lone boy.
Sixteen to one isn't bad odds for Robin, but it's less than good for Li'l Matches, who's quickly scruffed and dragged into the back alley kicking and sneering the entire way, even when he's bent double from a fist to the gut or smacked against the slick brick wall with a heavy backhand against his cheek. He's spitting blood at the feet of his aggressors, lip curling.
Can't. Break. Cover. ]
My father will see you pay for this, you Falcone lackey.