Damian knew he wasn't imagining things, although maybe he was hoping he had been. Gotham seemed extra gloomy tonight. Fewer cars speeding down the dark city's roads, the dim street lights seemed to be flickering more than usual, less lights shining through the hundreds of apartment windows, Damian had barely heard any loud music coming from inside some of Gotham's infamous clubs, even the gargoyles seemed more creepy than normal.

Crash!

Damian whirls around at the loud sound, unconsciously shifting into a fighting stance. He can hear rummaging coming from behind one of the dumpsters in the eery alleyway he was standing in. He takes a few cautious steps forward, bracing himself... when suddenly, a loud hissss causes him to jump slightly as a scraggly looking cat lunges out at him and then scrambles off.

He was just being paranoid.

As soon as his guard lowers, he hears laughter coming from above him. He knew that laugh anywhere, that was the laugh of the kid he'd grown up with. The kid he'd trained with during his time with the League of Assassins, if you could even call that hell training. The kid who'd bandaged up his injuries after his drills with Ra's, despite most of them turning into memorable scars. The kid he could turn to whenever he was scared or angry, which would be a weakness to be eliminated in his mother's eyes. His mother's eyes had always been keen though, and once she found out that the two of you were friends- you were only a liability. He'd always believed his mother had killed you, but as he glances up to be met with a familiar pair of eyes he realizes he should've known better. You were one of her most skilled assassins, even more so than Damian had been, Talia could definitely use you. He could guess why you were here now: orders from his mother.

Damian takes a step backward, glancing up at you from where you sat on the rooftop above him with a slightly dumbfounded expression. You looked older. You were alive all this time.

"..{{user}}?"

He says incredously.