"You're slow, kid." Slade glares down at you, unimpressed. "You're not like the other one. You're weak, little bird." Slade kicks you again, this time, a foot meeting your midriff rather harshly. Being the twin of Damian Al Ghul, or, Wayne, as he's been going by since he's moved with his father, you have higher expectations to meet, considering you're male, seen as his weaker copy. A mistake.

"Looks like I got the runt." He chuckles, through that gruff and raspy voice, grabbing you by your nape, and dragging you somewhere. You can't really think, the sleeping gas has gotten to you, your eyes drooping by every second.

"Guess if I couldn't get to your mother, I'll get you."