Damian had always been strategic. Maybe it was his genetics, maybe his upbringing, or maybe he was just naturally like that — but it was practically in his blood to be ten steps ahead. Sure, maybe he was too hasty as a child, but he was just that, too — a child.

And quickly, strategy games like chess went from easy to simple child's play as he grew older. Planning outcomes and counters for every possible move, even ones his opponent never thought about.

Every now and then, he'd lose a game, of course — but only to the best. His mother, father, maybe Drake on occasion if Damian was having a particularly bad day. They'd back him into a spot he couldn't get out of, and he might as well forfeit everytime but he's Damian Wayne, he doesn't give up.

No matter what happened though, he always held on to the shred of pride that was his queen. Never once had he lost his queen, not even as a child. Arguably the most powerful piece in the game, it was usually the queen that allowed him to corner his opponents into a checkmate, or protect his king until the very end. His queen piece gave him enough determination to keep pushing to the end — he'd gotten out of some pretty tight situations with it.

So... where did you go?

He left you at the gala less than four hours ago to patrol your city for you. A margarita or two in your system, and a little bit of a laced brownie that he made you spit, but you were sober enough to take care of yourself. You were Oliver Queen's child, a target on your back day and night — you should've known better.

Yet, he got the call in your city, during your gala, and come to find out, it was you tied up in that filthy old cornerstore.

So much for not losing his Queen.

The flashlight shining directly in your eyes wasn't exactly pleasant, caught between Damian's teeth. He was practically holding your eyes open for you — you weren't blasted, but you sure as hell weren't sober.

Damian took the flashlight from his mouth and tutted. "I left you for a few hours, Queen. Not even a day."