Demetria's P.O.V.:
Walking up behind Damian, I find him staring at the Robin suit, the one that Dick used to wear.
"This was yours?" Damian asks Dick, referring to the suit.
"Still is," Dick replies annoyed, now standing and checking the stitches on his arm.
I walk closer to the case, leaning in, getting a closer look at the suit. Damian seemed to have the same idea, but instead of leaning into the glass, he presses the case open for a closer look. As the glass slowly opens, a big hand quickly closes the case with force.
"Keep your hands off it, kid," Dick says glaring at Damian with his hands on his hips.
Damian looks at the suit once more. "Is this what you wore in training?"
"It's what I wore when I went on patrol."
"The only thing it's missing is lace trim and a sun hat," Damian says with a smug smile.
"You don't fool me. I know what you're thinking." Dick points an accusing finger at Damian. "You're thinking that you could be Robin. Well, you can't."
I looked back at the suit, imagining Damian wearing the suit. No. Damian wearing a costume this revealing? I look over the pantless suit once again. Impossible. Let alone be someone who would let their enemy get away alive by will.
"I don't need some insipid costume and a bird name." Damian points to himself with his thumb with confidence, "I'm way beyond your kind of simplistic training. As you saw tonight."
"Don't forget," Dick says walking away, "you lost that fight."
"Tch. I didn't—"
"Admit it Dami. We lost," I put my hand on Damian's shoulder, "And you know it."
"He's the one wounded!"
"But we're the ones who ended up getting caught and tied up," I reply calmly.
"Listen to your sister, kid," Dick says looking up at us, "at least she has to guts and brains to admit she lost."
"Don't let him get to you Dami. Calm down, alright?"
"Tch. We didn't lose"
Taking my hand off of his shoulder, I walk over to Dick who is now grabbing his top from the table, next to the medical equipment.
I stop a few feet behind him and ask, "So, I'm guessing that your opinion on my brother didn't change?"
"No, it changed," he says looking back at me. He puts on his top and turns his whole body towards me. I look at him a little hopeful.
"I think he's even more of a brat than I anticipated." My small spark of hope extinguished in a snap. He looks up at Damian who is still on the second platform, now looking at the ground with his fists clenched.
"Are you sure that you two are related?" Dick asking one more time.
"Ya," I reply quietly, "He's my older brother." Staring at Damian, I can't help but feel upset, myself.
There were times where we've had our ups and downs, but we can't help but beat ourselves up when we lose. We're supposed to be the greatest weapon when together. We're supposed to win.
"What? You're younger?"
"Ya", I look at him in confusion, "Is that wrong?"
"No," he says waving his hands, "I thought you were older since you're more mature."
"You think so?" I say chuckling. I look over at Damian once again, "They would think otherwise."
"They?" Dick asks tilting his head.
"The soldiers, trainers, uncle, mother, and grandfather. They always told me that I'm too immature." I look over to Dick and meet his eyes. "According to them, I tend to "play around" too much. I would constantly get punished for my actions and even more for not learning right from wrong."
"What do you mean by 'play around'?" Dick asks.
"I'm not sure," I tell him, "But I think laughing is on that list of things. Oh, and joking around. They take everything seriously back at the compound."
"So they punish you for being a normal kid?"
"Normal? What's that?" I ask jokingly. "Whatever that is, I'm definitely far from it." I smile at him with my hands on hips, puffing my chest out with confidence.
Dick chuckles and puts a hand on my head, ruffling my hair. "You definitely are. You know, you would make a better Robin than Mr. Pissy-face over there," he says pointing to Damian with his other hand.
"Me? A robin?" I ask pointing to myself.
"Ya, but I don't think you'll be leaving the house anytime soon, with that stunt you two just pulled," Dick says, his once smiling face faltering to a dark intimidating one.
"Not unless I want to," I say giving him a sinister smirk.
He chuckles and ruffles my hair harder. I slap his hand away, but he goes back to try a third time. I lap his hand once again, but he always goes back to the action. After five more attempts, I give up. Now, he has me in a headlock, ruffling my hair like there's no tomorrow.
Looking up to the platform, I see Damian walking down the stairs. At least he's done sulking. My eyes wander pass Damian, straight to the Robin suit, but not Dick's suit. The bloody tattered suit.
"Hey Dick."
He stops ruffling my hair and looks at me. I raise my right hand and point towards the tattered suit.
"Is that your's too?" I look over to him after asking the question, and his face falters.
"No it's not."
"Really? Then, who's is it?" He stays silent, staring at the suit. "Is it one of the other boys?"
"Other boys?" he asks.
"Ya. Timothy and uh," I stop, trying to remember the other boy's name, "Jason." Once that name left my mouth, he glares at me.
"How do you know that name?" He tightens his headlock on me. Based on his actions, Jason is, or was, the owner of that suit.
"Mother gave Damian and me some basic information about father. All three of you were within that information." I groan in pain.
Dick lightly gasps and releases the headlock, making stumble onto the ground.
"Shit. Sorry, Demetria. I didn't mean too—"
"It's okay," I say gripping my throat and coughing, "It's my fault for mentioning it anyways."
He extends his hand towards me, helping me up. I look at the suit once again, wondering what had happened to Jason to make the suit end up in that condition.
"You'll find out soon," Dick says noticing my curiosity.
All I could do now is nod, and wait for that moment to come. Dick turns around grabbing his utility belt. Once he grabbing his utility belt, instead of putting it on, he walks away with it in his hand.
"Where are you going?"
He lifts his belt. "I'm gonna refill."
Just as I was about to ask him as to why he would need to refill, a voice comes from the Batcomputer. On the screen was the man in the trench coat earlier. I walk up to the computer standing on the chair's left side, interested in the video call.
"How's Ubu?" Father asks, from his seat.
The man in the trenchcoat moves to the side, revealing two nurses and two officers, surrounding an unconscious Ubu.
"He's got more monitors connected to him than Arkham has lunatics," the man in the trenchcoat says.
"Can he talk?"
"Talk? It's a wonder he can breathe." I clench my hands and squint at the breathing Ubu. He doesn't deserve to breathe.
"I'll stay in touch," Father says turning off the monitor.
Father leans forward, putting his face against his hand, thinking. Just then, Damian walks up to the right side of the chair and places his hand on the back of the chair.
"He doesn't deserve to breathe," he says.
My lip turns upward. That's my brother.
Despite, me, finding the situation entertaining, Father did not. In fact, he got up from his chair angrily and pushed the chair to the side, nearly running me over in the process. The chair stops abruptly in front of Dick.
"Do you know what you were tonight? You weren't a warrior, you weren't a soldier. You were a child," he says towering over Damian. "Both of you were," he exclaims, now looking at me. I walk over next to Damian and stand next to him.
"If it hadn't been for him, I—" Damian screams pointing at Dick.
"If it hadn't been for Dick, you'd gone too far," Father says intervening.
There was a moment of silence. I look over to Damian and see that he's looking at the ground, thinking of something to say. He then raises his head.
"It's easier my way."
"It has nothing to do with easy. It's about doing what's right because it's right, and that's the only reason you need," Father replies calmly without skipping a beat.
"It seemed right to us," I speak up.
He looks at me and glares. "That's the problem."
Father walks in between us separating us, giving us a good two feet from each other. He walks over to the Batmobile and unlocks it. He reaches into the front seat of the Batmobile and then straightens his posture, staying still for a few seconds. I tilt my, wondering what he's planning to do.
Then without a warning, he says, "Heads up," Throwing a shuriken at Damian at full speed.
Seeing the shuriken flying at full speed towards Damian's face, my body acts on its own. My left arm extends towards Damian's face, stopping a few inches in front, catching the shuriken in between my index and middle finger.
It seems that my body wasn't the only one acting on its own. I look over to Damian to see that his arm is already near his face, at the place where the shuriken was going to hit him, ready to catch it.
"Nice reflexes," Father says surprised.
"What if she had missed?" Damian asks, and I bring the shuriken in front of me, investigating it. My eyes widen realizing what it was.
"It would have hurt," Father says walking over to us.
"It's a League of Assassins star," I announce.
"Found it in a warehouse belonging to a man named Langstrom. Ring a bell?"
I look over to Damian, still holding up the star.
"No," we say looking back to Father.
"It appears that there's a connection to Ra's and Deathstroke," Father says to Dick as he walks over to us.
"Then we need to find out," I tell Father.
"I need to find out."
"We wanna help," Damian and I exclaim.
"Like he used to," Damian continues, pointing to Dick.
"Bad enough you've given yourself away and let them know we're onto them, but you're letting vengeance guide you," Father says looking between the two of us.
Damian and I make eye contact, and turn our heads towards father. "You've never felt vengeful?" We ask.
"Everyday," he replies squinting. "You have to keep your center Damian, Demetria. You can't fight crime by becoming a criminal. From now on, stay close. That's an order."
"I can do that," Damian says with confidence.
Father looks over to me, waiting for a response.
I look over to Damian and then back to Father. "I can do that," I say nodding my head.
"But," I turn my head towards my brother with a cocked eyebrow, "are you going to believe that bullshit?" I point an accusing finger at Damian.
Damian growls at me realizing that I called his confidence a bluff. As Damian stared daggers at me, Father doesn't say anything and watches us.
"Wait a minute," Dick says making Damian and I look towards him in curiosity, "I'm not going to like. Am I."
"Nope."