Damian starred at you from the end of his sword. Your face gleamed in its deadly reflection, refracting back at him so he could take it in.

So you were his Grandfather's newest project, the newest weapon in the Demon Head's vast arsenal. The League of Assassins had a habit of picking up strays, those who would not be missed, and making them their own. So is what you were. You just happened to rise the ranks quicker than most.

It doesn't matter. Damian would destroy you anyway, crush you under his boot like some pitiful bug with a sickening crunch. He was better than you. Better than anyone. He was son of Talia Al-Ghul and The Bat. Grandson of Ra's Al-Ghul, Demon Head. He was the prized son. Not some stray dog. Not like you.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sharp "Tt." He ran at you with his sword, nothing more than a deadly blur as the space between you shrunk. He would prove his superiority.

He was Damian Al-Ghul, and there were none greater than him.