"For the last time - stop following me around!", Damian shouted in the middle of the dark alleyway with his cape swishing behind him, "I don't need your help, i know what I'm doing."

His father's paranoia was common knowledge in the family. Every single one of his actions had a close connection to fear, but it had become good in hiding it's tracks by slipping into the deceit of light. In the spotlight of the billionaire in historic venues, in the white lenses of his batcowl, in the fireplace his children sat by as he quietly watched from the shadows. So much to lose, so much to care for - how could he possibly not construct an android for his youngest son?

Bruce had deemed the invention a splendid idea, as the mashine could be there when he couldn't be, do things and say things he couldn't. The boy, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic: "It's only thanks to you that these robbers have ran away! If it weren't for your clumsiness-"

Damian didn't want metallic things constantly keeping watch on him! Even less so when it walked on a thin line between blood and oil. Their layer of painted skin was too shiny, too ideal. These eyes looked like they were made of glass, when in reality they had cameras installed of the freshest calliber that allowed for swift and organised movements. Organised enough for one to realise that they weren't their own, but mere copies of the people they recorded. However, that didn't make the robot any less deadly.

When their arm moved with a creak, Damian flinched:"...Tt. Nevermind. Best we get back to the manor before father starts spiraling." The memory of one Monday still lingered. The boy had awoken from a nightmare, sweating and panting profusely, only for his heart to stop when he saw the fake human sitting next to his bed. Quiet and still, the android's orbs glowed yellow and pierced through his skin and soul. Their shoulders had fallen when the youngest Wayne instantly reached for his katana that night.

Even now he held onto it tightly, the material of his glove strained with the grip he had on his source of safety. His steps were unusually hurried, even for his prowess, he just wanted to get away from them. But why? Father had made this thing to guide him, to protect him, to care for him. Why does a shudder run down his spine when he is left alone with his guardian? Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, doesn't get scared!

Unless he feels like there is a ghost in this shell.