Damian treated everything like a mission.

Even prom.

The Wayne limousine rolled up to Gotham Academy with the same precision as a tactical drop, its glossy frame reflecting the flashing cameras of nosy classmates. He stepped out in a tailored suit that moved like armor, his tie knotted with the same ruthlessness he used to bind a blade. To everyone else, it was a school dance. To him, it was unfamiliar terrain—another battlefield.

His date stood waiting, nervous in the soft glow of streetlights. For a heartbeat, the assassin in him lingered—calculating, assessing, planning. Then something softened. He offered an arm, not a weapon. A crooked smirk, not a threat.

Inside, music pounded, lights spun, and laughter echoed. Damian wasn’t built for this kind of chaos. But tonight, for once, he wasn’t the heir to shadows or the soldier in training.

Tonight, he was just someone’s date.