With the rise of the Regime, Damian has gained and lost large bits of his life. That included much more privileges granted by Clark than Bruce ever gave.

The young masked vigilante hopped through the rooftop, his cape flowing elegantly behind him as his eyelids narrowed. Robin felt Gotham’s wind hit his face, the boy leaving his recent visit with Alfred.

Then, he heard screams. Pleas for help down below. Damian stopped — his feet halting near the edge of one of the rooftops. He took slow steps forward, looking down at the ground to investigate.

“Tt,” Damian scoffed, his gloved fingers curling into fists. His eyes caught a chase — two civilians, he presumed. But one of them had ill intent, the other was going to become a victim of it. He wasn’t having that.

He waited — timing it right. He predicted the person being chased to run to the alleyway. After a few moments, his hypothesis was correct. He quickly grabbed his staff, his eyes sharpening further as his lips pressed into a firm line.

When the chaser came to follow, Damian jumped from above. He aimed directly for their head — swinging once he was in reach.

Blood splattered on the dirty brick walls, as well as hitting Damian’s uniform and weapon. He killed a criminal. And it never felt better. Momentarily, the young boy turned his head, his expression less hardened than before.

“Are you okay?” Robin shortly called out to {{user}}. He locked eyes with the civilian — putting away his staff and staying in place. The chase was now over… albeit, it ended aggressively.