The day the new boy appeared at Gotham Academy was the day that the school's personal gossip system became active again. Everyone knew everyone at the academy and eventually, the need for rumours and gossiping past. Everyone there was in either for money, or intelligence. Once you were classified accordingly, no one bothered to speak outside term. That was, until Bruce Wayne's son miraculously appeared.

No one had known that the famous Wayne had a son, and thus it was quite the surprise when Damian Wayne appeared. Rumours spread around like wild fire. Was he a bastard son? Was he adopted? Was he Bruce Wayne's ward? Damian took no intentional notice to this and instead passed through his very first day inside the schooling system with a grumbling attitude and a permanent scowl on his brows. Why would he pretend to care when he clearly didn't?

Because of this, everyone had gotten the clear message that he didn't want to be disturbed. Thus, no one had. In a sense, he was appreciative of the fact that no one had tried to start a conversation for the remainder of the day. Whilst sitting in his last period, once again a subject Ra's al Ghul had drilled into the boy at a tender age, his boredom took a hold of him and he began to examine his classmates.

Everyone around him was at the age of thirteen or fourteen, himself still being thirteen. It was the first year of the High School stage in each of their lives, and thus with the best money or academic scores; Gotham Academy gladly accepted the young teenagers under its dark wings. His father as well as two Robin predecessors, Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, had encouraged the young boy to go to school to learn social skills; something he severely lacked.

Grayson was out in the world with his recently graduated status and his new persona, Nightwing. Tim, however, was on Nightwing's team whilst assuming the role of Robin. Tim was only five years older than Damian and thus started his last year at the Academy the first year Damian started. He claimed Damian should have a mentor within the social bounds of the school. Damian was still Robin, but he was currently fighting alongside his father, Batman.

But through everything and all, every foe he had encountered and every unfortunate soul that had faced a death by his blade, nothing had prepared him for the boredom that school generated. Seven hours surrounded by gossiping girls, envious boys and unintelligible teachers had him tugging annoyingly at his strands. He would have to have an intervention after that night with his dearest father.

The bell signaling the end of the day reminded him of the bell they used at Nanda Parbat, the League of Assassins' base of operations; to signal the start of group training. Sometimes he would sit and relish in the memories of Nanda Parbat, a place he had left four years ago when Slade Wilson had attacked and killed most of the assassins; including his grandfather. One of the first things his father had taught him upon arrival, was a motto that stuck with him on every mission and countered against his longing to the League of Assassins.

Justice, not vengeance.

It had taken forever for the Wayne to remove the bloodlust from his son, or so he thought. Damian had grown to respect his father more than any other Robin; more than Pennyworth; more than the Justice League; and more than the public. Thus, Damian always examines himself in a battle. If he suddenly relapsed and dove into his bloodlust, his need to kill; then his father would most surely be disappointed. He couldn't stand the thought.

Upon exiting the school in a moderate way, the Drake had suddenly appeared and swung his arm around the younger Wayne's shoulders. Bystanders looked shocked to see that Tim Drake, a popular senior among the school grounds, had known the Wayne. Of course, no one knew that Tim was Bruce Wayne's adoptive son and neither of the previous two. When Tim had first entered the Academy, he was given the same stares. But at the time, it was because he was the new kid that somehow had a connection to Dick Grayson and Jason Todd.

"Not only are we brothers, but Robins always stick together," Grayson had explained when Tim retold his first day of school.

"Then where is Jason Todd?" the conversation was immediately ended at the mention of the second Robin.

"Hey, little man. How went the day?" Tim said with a sly smile, knowing that the possibility of Damian having actually enjoyed his first day of school was slim if not impossible.

"Why do you voice such a question if you already know the answer, Drake? The likelihood of anyone enjoying such boring hours is highly improbable," Tim's face fell at this as they both headed towards the limousine where Alfred Pennyworth, their butler, waited for them.

"Now don't be like that. Your high Shakespearian voice is annoying. You gotta learn to go with the flow, little man," he said, forming his arm to look like a wave.

"Might you explain how you are classified as 'intelligible'?" Tim chuckled at this.

"I was born a genius, just not a very good one. After Dick won the award for smarty pants, he didn't want the Wayne name to be trashed and instead tutored me so that I could uphold the tradition he started. Being Robin comes at a price. That price being enough time for a good study," he shrugged as they slipped into the limousine, quickly acknowledging the Pennyworth before continuing the conversation.

"You and Grayson aren't under the Wayne name," he quickly lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

"It's the idea that counts. Besides, how do you think mister tall, dark and scary would react if one of us had a tardy report card?" he chuckled slightly.

"What of Jason Todd?" Damian thought to bring up. Tim frowned at this and turned to him slightly.

"What about him?"

"You knew him, right?" Tim nodded at this.

"Briefly, yes. I knew him when Bruce took me under his wings but that was before I became Robin. He was silent among other things, and that's why it wasn't too hard on me when Jason was killed," he answered, his voice silent.

"So he was killed?" Damian said with a sort of sly smile.

"Yeah, but you probably knew that. I'm guessing you hacked the Batcave or whatever. But listen, there's more to Jason than what the files say. Don't bring him up again," he warned and with a strict nod, Damian understood. Yet, that didn't mean he wouldn't do some digging on his own. The case intrigued him. "Anyway, I saw all the attention you got today. I'm so glad that I never received the Wayne surname and stuck with my own. That would've been over the top," he chuckled with amusement at Damian's unentertained expression.

"It gets better, I promise," was Tim's final words before they settled into an uncomfortable silence. Between Grayson and Tim, Damian always chose Grayson above Tim. He wasn't biased, he just preferred the mature man above the childish urge seeker.

Upon arriving at the Wayne Mansion, they both split and went to their individual ordeals. Tim headed out with Grayson to Mount Justice to deal with the Team; a young group of previous-sidekicks who now took on their own set of missions. Damian had been offered a position but turned it down without a second thought. He liked to work alone more than any team-up. Weaklings brought him down with them, and he never found someone stronger than him. He had outwitted and overpowered his father more times than he could count. Yet, his father always seemed to be one step ahead of him and that is what made it possible for Damian to work with his father.

But it came more from respect than anything else.

Later, Damian found himself sitting on top of the highest building in Gotham, which happened to be Wayne Enterprises. His eyes glazed over the surprisingly quiet city as the lights fazed together with a blur.

"Something wrong? You have been uncharacteristically quiet this night," he heard the voice of his father appear behind him. He did not turn to acknowledge him.

"My life has changed so much. It is... overwhelming," he said in a silent whisper. Soon he heard the swishing of a cape as his father sat beside him, their legs dangling off of the skyscraper.

"Change is a good thing. It doesn't defy us, but the way we handle it does. You've actually been handling everything better than I could ever hope. Not a single Robin before you have achieved these great things," he answered in his fatherly tone.

"It is only because my childhood was stripped from me in Nanda Parbat. I was not allowed to be normal," he said with a small scowl. "But... if I could, I would not go back and change a thing. If I did, then everything would be different now. I would be frail and helpless... I'm not like that. I cannot see myself as a normal child. I need this. I don't know what I would do otherwise. It is... an obsession of sorts. To protect," he said silently, more to himself than his father, as he stared down at the streets. "But I'm a killer," he whispered, his eyes hardening.

"Being a killer is a choice, Robin. When you stand over a person, you are the one calling the shots. In that moment, you have to be the better man. You can decide how deep you are willing to go, but there is a line. A line that should never be crossed," Batman told his damaged son in an attempt to set the boy at ease. Seeing his son's brows furrow, he wondered what it exactly was that the boy needed to hear. The advice he required. The advice he couldn't give.

"Thank you, father. I will... return early tonight," he said before standing up. Quickly shooting a grappling hook at a skyscraper, he soon discovered himself swinging through the darkened buildings of Gotham until he reached one of the entrance points to the Batcave. Speed walking through the technically advanced headquarters, he headed towards his room for a night of resting. He passed his brothers on the way, but only acknowledged Alfred before heading to slumber.