Scared of the Dark || Damian Wayne x OC

55: the truth unfolds

A week earlier 

Flynn's P.O.V:

Midnights assassins followed Slade for miles. He'd managed to call for backup - some sketchy friends of his who he'd done business with back in the good old days. Back before everything went to shit.

The snow pelted down around us and for a while I felt nothing but numb. Cold numb, emotional numb, physical numb... I couldn't even decide at this point. All I knew was that I felt nothing and I wasn't exactly sure why. It was almost frightening, but then again i was used to it.

We eventually found a nearby village and rested for a few hours. The people were kind enough to lend us some places to sleep and food to eat. Im sure we looked strange — hundreds of children being lead by a tall, beefy looking man. But Deathstroke made it seem like he was helping a bunch of orphan refugees escape their abusive country or something. With the way we were dressed and the fact that we were children, I could see why people believed it.

I sat on the edge of my tiny mattress and downed the remains of my meal. It was a simple rice dish that the local chef had cooked up for us. He was a wise-looking asian man with a long beard and kind eyes. There was something about him that reminded me of one of my old sensais, only minus the sheer aggression that we were shown at midnight.

"Flynn," someone spoke suddenly.

They almost managed to startle me, and I realised I was so deep in thought that I had let my training go for a moment. I was usually extremely vigilant, but not today. Something was off, and I couldn't quite place it.

I glanced at the person and realized it was Luella, one of the female students. She was hawaiian in ethnicity and pretty hot, but i'd never really paid much attention to her until now.

"What's wrong?" I questioned, a hint of panic setting in.

But she didn't appear worried, instead fiddling with the end of her braid and saying, "Some of the others want to know when we're heading back to Gotham. They're... homesick. I guess I am too, truthfully."

I was a little surprised by the statement, but even more so by the fact that she had come to me, of all people.

"Have you asked Deathstroke?" I questioned. It seemed like a more appropriate idea.

She shook her head. Then she proceeded to lower herself down so that we were sitting across from each other, and she could speak quietly.

"We're all kind of afraid of him. They say you know him the best, so..." she gave a small shrug and looked away awkwardly.

The best? I know him the best? Since when?

But I supposed that I had spoken with him probably more than the entirety of Midnight students combined. Deathstroke had been above us in status all our lives — we were taught to keep our distance and only ever speak to him when spoken to first. It took me until now to realise that the others still thought that, even in times like this where authority had gone out the window.

"I'll speak to him for you," I replied with a nod. It felt weird to be able to say something like that, to be able to talk in a way that made me appear superior to them.

Luella nodded back, then flashed a small smile, which I had to admit would've earned a flirtatious joke from me under normal circumstances. But not today. No, too many things were on my mind these days. That old cocky jokester had vanished a while ago.