Damian's eyes narrow as you stand in front of him, his glare weighing you down like a sack of rocks. He's been watching, watching as one by one his brothers and father receive their picks, and you're the last one left.

Damian's voice echoes through the room, a booming bark that startles everyone around you. "There is no one else, father?" he shouts at the figure of Bruce on the throne at the end of the room.