The Death of Damian Wayne

December 5, 2014: Damian and Kate finally meet up with Veruca.

New York

I aint passed the bar, but I know a lil bit, and I know that you can't legally search my sh…



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Mood Music: (Fin, by Pavement)

Flurries of snow obscure the view of the alleyway below. As much as he's come to enjoy New York City, it still doesn't have that same feeling when meting out justice. Nevertheless, it was something he's getting more and more used to by the day.

All of them, the Batman and his allies, were battle hardened by the day to day grind of the work. Some would complain that it was boring, others that it was beneath them, but almost everyone that Damian knows cut their teeth on these sorts of nights.

Damian's long hair hangs out below his hood and is blowing wildly in the vicious wind. He's definitely been out here a while; snow is caked on the tips of his mane. The normal Robin costume he's been wearing is still around his body, but it looks to have been reinforced. Not with more armor, but with more covering. It's terribly cold out. Terribly cold, terribly early.

Kate has been busy lately. A regular social butterfly with the superhero set, and then extra training with Clint. Most nights- Well, no. Most nights she's out. Most early mornings she gets back to the apartment, falls into bed, and then crawls back out around mid-afternoon. At least it suits the socialite cover.

She's a bit late getting out tonight, but eventually pulls herself up next to Damian, tugging mitten-tops over her fingerless gloves as she settles in. "Anything interesting yet, or did you freeze in place?"

It takes a while for things like this to be set up. It started in Metropolis, a random, forgotten few that were plucked from the bars their frequented or corner, falling into puddles that nearly have no depth and being pulled through mirrors that seemingly have no end. It takes a while to sway someone, to create the Stockholm that binds them to be your psychological lover, yet Fracture has done it in /two/.

And it takes a New York Minute to travel to New York this way, to traverse the windows and mirrors to find a cape. A cape that looked familiar, one that she's seen on the rooftops while 'the crew' tangled with Batman Faux Deux.

From the puddles that seemingly ripple in the salt covered streets by way of tire and feet that splash through them, she manages to set herself up.. and a train of poor unfortunate few to travel along the alleyways at night where.. they could be distrubed but do /not/.

"I listened to the words he'd say.."

"But in his voice, I heard decay.."

The sounds of a familiar voice for him echoes through the alleyway as the 'chain gang' of captivee's march through the alleyway, with several (7) of them that look just like her.

"The plastic face forced to portray, all the insides left cold and gray.."

Each voice took on a separate octave, featuring range each dedicated to a captive that seemed bound in straight jackets, heads down, teeth chattering from the chill that bites whatever flesh is exposed. Some stumble, some fall, but at the end of their 'leash', the woman glances up and smiles.

From under the green hood, Damian smirks. His hollow white lenses glow underneath his hair as he turns towards Kate, "I'm warm enough. Far different from what I'm used to; far different than where I'm from." It's remarkable to him, when he stops to think about it, how different his life has become from only about a year ago when he was living with his grandfather.

His smirk fades, when he hears the voice.

His adam's apple bobbles as he swallows and tenses. "It's her," he says to Kate under his breath. "It's time."

Damian moves to the edge of the rooftop and flings himself off into the night, ready to meet Veruca.

"Her who? Time for what? Hey, where are you-" Kate moves to the edge of the roof, catching a glimpse of what's going on. "I seriously just climbed up here," she mutters under her breath, flipping the mittens back again to free her fingers for the string with a sigh. Crouching low, she does her best not to make a clear outline on the rooftop as she watches to see just what is going on here.

"We're so cold.." The woman from Metropolis begins to cry out. "Please, let us go inside."

One of the copies reaches out to land a sharp smack upon her cheek, long fingers soon gripping the womans chin to force her to look into her icy blues. The woman smiles faintly, then nods, preparing to soldier on through the cold until their end is met.

Happiness in slavery; the illusion that you're doing something for the greater good when in fact, you were set there to do /harm/.

The Veruca at the end of the chain-gang holds up her hand, the others stopping to turn to look towards her; each doppleganger carrying the same look, the same clothing, yet subtle differences and mannerisms were outfitted to tell which is which.

But /not/ the real one. Was she even there?

"Kneel." The leash holder says, and in turn, seven hostages slowly kneel upon the ground, the puddles beneath them rippling as a man let out a shrill breath to deal with the cold. The leash is dropped and now, the 'leader' slowly walks behind them, her hands dropping to the side to retrieve two thin, yet long blades from their place.

Another one follows in that same path, drawing black tape from her pocket to wrap around her hand, and the device that she clutches. The light upon it flashes a fierce red until it remains, the only beacon in a backdrop of pure, white snow.

Damian doesn't respond to Kate. It's not out of spite nor is it because he is ignoring her. But that voice puts him into his defensive mode. Not much makes him worry, but inwardly he's been worried about this.

Out ahead of Kate, Damian emerges from the shadows. His katana is already drawn, blade glooming in the moonlight, and his face and eyes are obscured in the dark by the hood.

"What is the meaning of this?" he says, his voice comes slithering through the darkness.

"What the actual fuck?" Kate sets an arrow to the string, sighting along the shaft toward the line of duplicates. This is new to her. But if there are swords involved, and innocent people down there about to become victims? She's not going to wait very long to find out what the details are.

"Truly.." The one with the blades steps forward, the presumed leader of the pack of duplicates, who furiously work upon each and every victim to insure that what's strapped to them? Stays true. ".. there is no meaning. I'm just making this up as I go along." She smiles, arms akimbo as the copies begin to quietly whisper to each of the hostages in turn, while the main focuses upon what's in front of her.

The Son of the Bat. She heard the man say. What does that mean? She wasn't really itching to find out.

"But now that I think of it, I want to /see/. See the way a hero works on this side of the world. To see if the heroes of.. what is this place?" She glances back towards one of the copies, who immediately speaks up.. "New York City."

"That's right. New York City.. to see if you all have what it takes to stop me. If you can manage and muster to do what's necessary to see that this?"

Her arms sweep across the mewling few as she steps aside, either more or out of Kate's line of sight. "Never happens again." There was a pause, and a slight smirk. "And I could be offended and slightly butt-hurt that you all murdered a man indirectly who would have had a good foothold and place in the criminal world, but that's neither here nor there."

"Let these innocents go, or suffer our wrath, harlot," Damian responds. "This is your only warning."

The blade shifts slightly as Damian bends at the knees. Slowly he looks back to see Kate's position and to ensure that she has an open shout. As for the rest of the words, Damian lets them pass. He can be very snide and snotty himself, but he's apparently not in the mood.

"Let them go," he repeats after a few moments of silence.

Whoever this is, they aren't exactly stable. And Damian seems to have run into them. Damian is giving this person some space. That tells Kate a lot. Apparently, it tells Kate enough that she doesn't want to wait any more. In the space of about five seconds, three arrows fly from the roof, aimed at the figurehead and two other duplicates.

"No." They all said in unison, the one who's holding the deadman switch, bound to her hand, steps up. "You'll have to kill us all first. And then we'll let them go."

Before she was about to explain the situation, the arrows fly, taking out not one.. or two.. but three of the duplicates, including the figurehead. They all shatter the glass, the arrow sharp enough to pierce the shell, the shot just and true.

The one holding the switch now winces, one eye peeking open, which soon gives herself a pat down to make sure that she was still present.

And luckily for them all? She was.

Four left.

The uppity one near the back rushes forward, bending at a crouch to slide upon the ground through ice, slush and snow, fingers gracing the street to slow her approach and grasp the fallen swords that her copy has left behind.

"Fuck talking." She says to the other three. "We're fighting."

"That's not smart."

"Do they even know about the bomb?"

"I'm taking the roof!"

They all spoke at once, which sounded like chaotic rabble, yet the one with the switch was the only one who appeared /calm/.

The uppity one near the back, who has rushed forward, comes straight towards Damian as she slides in the slush.

Robin makes his move, closing the distance between them with quick, ninja-like steps. Though the footing is poor, he seems to have no particular problem with it. Just as she picks up a sword from one of the fallen, Damian's gleaming blade comes down towards her.

Oh, right. Deadman switch. Well, that's a problem, but not insurmountable. Yet. Kate will deal with figuring out how to disarm that when there are fewer people who need to be shot. First, the shooting. Three down, four to go, and one of those should not be broken. Yet. Damian has one, which leaves the one headed for the roof, and one more running. Roof first. Kate shoots for center mass of the one headed her way first, but it takes her another moment with the quiver selecting her next arrow.

Veruca was quick, even though most of the power was held within her legs, the way she moves is like percision, a bend backwards to catch the blade with her own, feet positioned to lift upon the ground and whip forward with both of her own in attempts to slip through the middle and maim. Teeth grit, she was going to push herself to the limit while the others deal with the unknown shooter.. and the one with the trigger leans upon the back of the neck of the man with a slight, sorrowful sigh.

"Why do we always have to fight? I just wanted to talk to him.."

It almost sounded like a whine, but she would have gotten ignored by Ms. Uppity.

The Liberty Veruca took this chance to show a little bit of 'the true self', nails extending as she crouches and then jumps straight up, reaching halfway up towards the roof as fingers embed themselves within brick, feet catching upon ledge as she begins to crawl towards the top.

The arrow catches within her side, yet she continues to scale the rooftop all the while shards of glass seemingly grow and protrude from her skin in a horrific sight.

And the last copy? She ran towards the nearest puddle, the dives in. We'll call that one Scary.

Damian goes into a defensive block as the VerucaCopy pushes up against him and takes a swipe. He knocks her blade down low and aims a kick right to the middle of her chest to gain some space. The hand closer to the pivot foot slides into his utility belt and flicks out lightning quickly.


A trio of flash-snaps send blinding light right between Damian and the woman, turning the alleyway into daylight for a split second and disorienting anyone looking directly into it. Damian had it timed and closed his eyes until a split second after the final pop, avoiding the disorientation.

That arrow Kate spent an extra moment looking for? Specialty arrow. A nice trick she picked up from Clint, originally designed to deal with rioters. When it hits, it releases a rapidly expanding and hardening foam that prevents movement. Which is why she shoots it directly at the hand with the deadman switch, ignoring the copy coming toward her for that crucial second. She has time to clip her bow against her quiver and draw her own blade, but Damian's flash-snaps mean it takes her a moment to find her current target.

"You were never going to let us go, were you? They're the good guys, aren't they?" One of the men cries out. And he actually /gets/ it. His realization was shared amongst the victims, who all begin sobbing, their heads hung low as the one with the deadman switch moves from behind them to the front, her hands upon her knees as she looks at each of them, sorrow within her gaze.

"I'm sorry my loves. This is true. But I will say, that even though your lives were complete shit, ranging from whore to wife beater and drug dealer, you all were some of the best hostages I've ever ha-.."

Her hand was shot with the specialty arrow, and that foam, it wraps around both legs and arm, and even a bit around the middle. And then a flash.

It effects the lot of them, the one with the blades who currently engaged with Damian got the brunt of the flash, while the one upon the roof shields her eyes with a raise of her arm.

The one that got away however? She was safe from the flash.. and shall be henceforth dubbed, 'The Lucky Wench'.

Seeing the other ones were glass, and seeing that the ruthlessness of these copies was so severe, Damian finds he gives zero fucks if his blade goes through this woman and she actually happens to be real. Using the advantage, he slams the blade downward, cutting at an angle from shoulder to spine. His teeth grind against each other and he pulls the blade through, eager to have another one of these monsters bite the dust.

Kate doesn't wait for vision to come back perfectly. There's no time to wonder about exactly where that super creepy thing was coming from. Better to take a swing. And that's what she does, eyes half-closed against the bright light as she strikes out with her blade.

A slight rush of water is what marks the Lucky Wench's entrance, directly behind Damian, her own blade and gun at the ready. While he cuts down the copy, which soon shatters into glass, she takes a calm step forward, the pointed edge of the blade pressing against his spine.. and follows through.

To kill a man, one had to have the conviction, one had to have the loss of humanity in those very moments, and her? She took the time to /feel/. Not the loss of a life, no. But the way her muscles worked. How easy it was to tense so that when resistance was met? She followed through.

The blade was sharp enough to cut through demis, sinew and bone, to push through the other side was like a piercing of a tongue with a needle, pressure instant, sharp pain immediately after.

Her arm snakes around Damian's neck as she buries it into him just at the hilt, her lips pressing against exposed cheek to seal the kiss of death, her finger soon coiling around the trigger as that arm loosens and shoots at the other copy that grasps the deadmans switch like so.


She crumples to glass. The trigger itself is left within the shell, and with no finger to hold it steady..


Veruca was smart enough to keep the blast contained, and strong enough to fight against the shockwave of the blast itself, but she does stumble backward, holding onto Damian by way of sword with a little tug and drag to jostle the injury.

On the rooftop? Kate was successful, that blind swing was enough to stave off a rushing copy, severing her arm at the elbow which draws a scream as she too, falls to pieces soon after.

But below? Cheek to cheek, she whispers quietly in Damian's ear.

"You're no hero. You're nothing but a kid in a cape."

The blade is twisted, the soft crunch of the bone heard and felt, all by her own might.

"That night on the rooftop, you should have listened. We could have been great together. And even though the vision that Barbosa didn't take? I saw it /through/. That is the test of true loyalty, that is the conviction of a hero who works for the /other/ side. I am willing to /kill/."

The blade was soon dragged upright, splitting and tearing flesh, the sound of Veruca's hiss implanted into his ear. "Be seeing you soon, kid. In hell."

A split second before Veruca arrives behind him, Damian can sense something is about to go terribly wrong. The momentum from the downward swing is too forceful to move against, the stride of his body heading in one direction, he is physically unable to get out of her reach.

When the sword pierces out through his front, Damian thinks about a thousand things in the final seconds of his life. He thinks about his father and the relationship he never really had the opportunity to cultivate with him. He thinks about his mother and wonders if she will even bat an eyelash, or instead feel as though another of her rivals has now been snuffed out. He thinks about his grandfather, but only for a short second. His friends, the Titans, and especially Kate as he loses consciousness and dies, hanging upon Veruca's blade. There is no retort for him and as the parting words meet his cheek pressed against her lips, he's already dead.

"Damian!" Kate has never been very good about being careful with names. With identities. And in that moment, she's not thinking about either of them. She's thinking about her friend, down there in the street, caught unaware by…Someone who's going to be very dead in a moment, if she has anything to say about it.

Kate doesn't kill. Not directly. Not intentionally. It's not what she's in this for, and Clint has done his best to keep her from feeling like she has to. To shelter her from it. But when she sees Damian start to fall, she fires three arrows at the woman holding the sword in the space of a breath before dashing to the edge of the roof to swing down to the street.

The shout from the rooftops gain Veruca's attention, still holding onto Damian, she glances up through the falling snow and..

The body within her hands gets pelted with arrows.


She cracks out into a fit of laughter as she lets the man go, letting him fall to the ground in a mess of blood and snow, blade still held onto as she gives it a good flick to the side before it was returned. Gun placed upon her hip, and she just walks away.. her final step is the puddle of slush that she originally stepped out of and in, again.

Kate skids through the snow, falling to her knees next to where Damian lies. "No, no, no," she mutters, hands shaking as she drops her quiver and breaks open the container of piles, trying desperately to find anything that can help. "Damian, don't you dare. I'm going to fix this. I can fix this." God, where does she even put her hands? So much blood…

"Call Clint. Conference Wolfson." A bright blue light blinks at her ear. "No, conference Oracle. Conference…Just call help." But the voice command on her bluetooth isn't an AI. It's just bluetooth, and the rambling is too much for it to make sense of. The dial tone sounds, and Kate tries desperately to stem the river of blood, as it melts in the snow.

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