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Damian is well aware of the fact that today is Halloween, which is why he immediately went straight towards Crime Alley, where he knows it would be the last place his family would think of. Furthermore, it is the safest place for Damian to be right now considering today.
Hood had only scoffed when he arrived at the roof before leading him inside and quickly guiding him to duck behind one of the crates, a silent understanding between them. Below them, just over the railing, Damian could see drug deal happening with at least twenty men in the room.
Sloppy, Damian thought. A bunch of amateurs.
It isn’t long before Hood has given a signal to jump, satisfied at the intel gathered. Damian shifts slightly, preparing to engage. But before that can happen, suddenly there comes a tapping on the metal door.
The room grows silent, confuse and baffle. One of the men swears under his breath while the rest reaches for the gun.
Meanwhile, Damian questions, Who has the audacity to—
The door opens.
Hood makes a choking sound next to him at the sight of the person standing there.
Damian just stares, unable to move, unable to perceive at the most dumbfounding and most nonsensical sight laid before him.
A teen with a jet black hair, who looks to be around his age, dressed in a poor mock-attempt of a Robin costume. It is insulting, he bristles.
The whole room is stunned.
“Um, can I just say – trick or treat?” the teen says, raising his green gloved hand nervously. “Well, preferably the treats, not tricks, like those candies over there!”
Damian’s breath hitches.
No.
“Go get ‘em!” one of the underling barks orders. Before guns are even raised, Damian slams down on top of them, knocking the guns out. Shots fire everywhere. In the corner of his eye, Damian sees the teen yelp before quickly ducks behind one of the crates.
Good. At least he possesses some survival instinct, Damian compartmentalizes, twisting himself in the air, avoiding the shots while simultaneously grazing one of the underling’s shoulder with the batarang.
It doesn’t take long before he is surrounded with unconscious men, leaving Robin, Red Hood, and the teen standing, who pops his head out behind the crate and looking completely unconcerned.
“So,” The teen leans his body against the crate, one foot twisted around the ankle, arms crossed, “What’s up, Doc?” He says, completely nonchalant.
Damian couldn't help but stare.
“Son of a duck!” Red Hood swears. And before Damian could open his mouth, his brother jumps over the railing and marches towards the teen, growling, “Kid, I told you to stay in the safehouse.”
The teen winces, but interestingly, he doesn't seem afraid of Red Hood, given his brother's reputation. More like the teen is sheepish of his actions. Curious at whether this person just lacks self-preservation or basic intelligence, Damian leans forward, interested.
"Okay, in my defense," the teen puts his hands up mockingly, "you said ‘stay put,’ not ‘don’t celebrate Halloween.’ Big difference. You can't blame me for wanting free food."
Hood makes a strangled noise.
"You don’t wander into Crime Alley on Halloween!" he snaps.
"I didn't wander into Crime Alley, Hood. I was just exploring. There's a big difference." he snarks back. Damian doesn't need eyes to see Hood's eyes are twitching underneath the helmet.
The teen must have say something snarky because Hood snorts, muttering something unsavory underneath his breath.
Damian just stares, heart pounding in his ears.
For once, he is lost for words. What could he say? What should he say?
Instead, he glares at his brother, ignoring the teen, “Hood, how do you know this person? I demand you to tell me at once!” In the corner of his eye, he could see the teen’s back straighten, his skin turning pale as his eyes quickly fixate at him now.
Damian's fingers twitch.
“A lil’ stray I picked up who doesn’t know how to take care of himself,” Red Hood says flippantly. “Danny, let me give you an advice as a newcomer to Gotham: never trick or treat in Crime Alley.”
Danny. That's his name.
“I-I,” Danny stutters before he gulps, his skin pale. “Y-yeah, sure. Got’cha! I’ll just…” He is slowly backing away towards the door, eyes darting back and forth between him and Hood. “I’mgonnahavetogoseeyalaterbyeHood!” He quickly bolts, disappearing from view.
Damian’s stomach sink, his feet roots in the spot as he stares at the space where the teen stood.
His hand unconsciously goes toward his wrist, where the first words his soulmate would say to him:
Um, can I just say – trick or treat?
He lets out a breath. "Unacceptable."
"I know, I can't believe it either," Todd shakes his head, exasperated as he holsters his guns.
"How about you explain why that boy is under your care?" Damian cuts in sharply.
Hood snorts, nudging one of the unconscious men with his boot. "I told 'ya. I picked up a stray. Didn't ya hear me?"
He bristles. "If he is under your care, then your decision to expose an untrained, unprotected civilian to an active operation is not merely negligent. Tt is catastrophically incompetent. Even for you, Todd, you should be capable of exercising a baseline level of judgment."
"Relax, demon spawn. I'll be having words with him later. He wasn't supposed to be here," he scoffs as he begins tying up the men.
"And yet he was," he spits out. How utterly typical of Todd to treat this magnitude with such flippancy. He should have known Hood would be reckless and shortsighted for this kind.
With the voice modulator, Hood's sigh came out distorted, more crackle than breath. But Damian could tell Todd is exasperated with him now. "Brat, I can't watch and control everyone 24/7 like your dad."
"Obviously," Damian says coolly. "you could never measure up to Father."
Hood mutters something unsavory under his breath. Disgraceful, really Todd? So Damian pushes.
"So how long?"
His brother pauses from checking the men's pockets to look at him, squinting, "How long what?" Blankly.
Is Todd truly this obtuse?
"How long has he been in your care?" he snaps.
Todd's posture changes to something subtle. More guarded as if he notice his interest. "A few days….why?"
He intentionally ignores those questions. This is important.
"What is his background? Training? What about his affiliations?" He starts in rapid fire, mind racing, recalling the way his soulmate manages to disarm those men that easily. His movements and fast reaction time.
Todd lets out a short laugh. "Kid. What's with the interrogation?"
Not wanting to reveal his true reasons, he presses, "If you are harboring a liability, I will assess the risk accordingly." That makes sense, right? It is imperative to assess his soulmate. It is his right.
"For Christ's sake, he's my responsibility, Robin. Knock it off."
But Damian can't. He can't let go of this. Not after waiting for this event.
"Hood. You will give me his full name," he demands.
Todd shakes his head. "Sorry kid, but it ain't your business. Everything in Crime Alley is my business so back off."
"That is insufficient. I require the information for debriefing. You have already compromised operational integrity," he scrambles. "I will not allow further lapses to go unaccounted for."
His brother cocks his head, studying him, "…You're being weird, kid."
He sniffs, keeping his expression unchanged. Todd could never know. "If you find basic competence ‘weird,’ Todd. It is hardly my concern."
Todd eyes at him.
Damian realizes that continuing this line of questioning would yield no useful information. It is clear Todd is not going to answer directly. Being obtuse as usual and it would only serve to irritate him further unless he wants Todd to be alerted to his interest which he did not need. And he has no intention of wasting his time when he could go straight to his source. If he could catch up, that is.
So he walks past the distracted Todd without so much as a glance, keeping his pace controlled. Unbothered. It is not until he's outside that he starts scanning his surroundings immediately, wondering if he can track his soulmate.
The teen could not have gone far enough.
Damian's fingers flex, determine.
His soulmate is somewhere within his reach,
He just has to find him.
So he moves.