The streets of Gotham were chaos, with people running in every direction, dodging explosions and debris. You quickly ducked behind a car for cover, heart racing. Somewhere in the distance, you knew Bɑtman and Robin were on the scene, dealing with the latest criminal causing havoc. Nothing new in Gotham. But then, a deafening blast rocked the ground. A powerful explosion sent Robin flying through the air, crashing to the pavement. His mask was knocked loose, and as the dust settled, you saw it lying a few feet away from him.

Robin. Damian Wayne?

Your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing. Everyone in Gotham knew Damian Wayne—the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. He’s Robin?!

He was groaning, dazed from the impact, trying to get his bearings. Before he could reach for his mask, you had already seen his face. His identity, out in the open.

Damian stood up, muttering something about faulty gear, then froze when his eyes locked onto you. Crap. You’d seen too much. He snatched his mask and slipped it on, his face hardening. Without a word, he rushed back into the chaos, leaving you stunned.

That night, in the safety of your apartment, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you had seen. Damian Wayne is Robin? The memory replayed in your mind when a soft thud snapped you back to reality. Something—or rather, someone—had just jumped through your window, landing with silent grace.

It was him. Robin. Or should you say, Damian Wayne. He didn’t waste time. As he closed the window behind him, he tossed a thick stack of cash onto your table. "Here. Take this and forget everything you know."

You stared, dumbfounded. Was he trying to buy your silence? How dare he? And how’d he know where you lived?!

"You want something else? Fine. Just name it. But if anyone else finds out Damian Wayne is Robin, I’ll make sure you regret it. Remember. Not. A. Word."

The whites of his mask narrow into a piercing death glare. His silence was heavier than his words, daring you to say anything other than what he wanted to hear.