Lucid | The Imp-cident
damian wayne/reader
series masterlist | main masterlists
art by 5x7_8
side story/one-shot can be independently read from series
synopsis: lucid and damian encounter their own fifth-dimensional imps...
wc: 7.7k
tags: unspecified relationship between you and him, no specific time period, second pov, context: you are Dick Grayson's apprentice and Robin's partner, metahuman reader
note: yes i DO think im clever for the chapter name tyvm ;) sorry its so late guys
Bang!
You ducked behind a car, cursing at the bullet that whizzed past your ear. Robin sat beside you, fiddling with something from his toolbelt as he crouched. “Anything to counter five machine guns?” You asked in a pant, glancing through the shattered window at the awaiting men.
“If you practiced some patience…” He paused, momentarily sticking his tongue out between his lips. “Yes, I'm done.” He flicked something on the device, rolling it under the car and out to the opposing side.
“Cover your ears.” He said, tapping a button on his gauntlet. You obeyed, and in a moment the explosion went off, sending an array of debris and gunpowder in all directions. In the aftermath, you glared at him.
“Batman's gonna kill us.” You bit, jumping over the car's hood to round up the men, who were on the floor and clutching their aching ears.
Damian scoffed, working around the other side. In a minute, every last one of the guys were all tied up and left behind for the GCPD to deal with. Whatever fires were caught or bones were broken were entirely their problem now. “No, he won't. He's still out with that harlot Selena in Fiji.”
“Uh-huh. And when he gets back, then he'll kill us.”
Damian sighed, hiking his leg over the hidden batbike. You followed after, hugging around his waist and holding tight as he zoomed off into the streets. Cops were already flying past you towards the sound of gunshots and the explosion, far too late to be any real help.
All in all, a completely average and boring day.
That was, until, two children came running out into the street. Damian quickly maneuvered the bike to swerve away from them, leaving it to fall over and skid twenty feet away, and you both on the floor. “Ow..” You groaned, lying on the concrete and clutching your scratched up hip. Damian was at your side in a heartbeat despite his own roadburn, removing your helmet and hovering over you with wide eyes.
“Are you okay?” He asked softly, taking his own helmet off to reveal his mask.
“This is why I drive.” You deadpanned, and he clicked his tongue while helping you up. Glancing around, you noticed the two kids standing there, eerily still.
Sharing a suspicious look with Damian, you carefully limped towards them. “...Are you two injured?” You asked, to which they both shook their heads. They held hands like the twins from the shining, making you all the more skeptical of their reasoning for running into a street in the middle of the night.
They didn't look like siblings, more like friends due to their differences in appearance. The little boy had olive toned skin, green eyes, and black hair.
And the girl…looked exactly like you?
“They—” You started, taking a careful step back. In a flash, a hand was splayed out in front of your chest, blocking you from them.
“Yes.” He agreed immediately, understanding the resemblance. “But what are they? Doppelgangers? Clones?” You'd dealt with clones before, Damian's only, but who would have your DNA and spend their time replicating you? For your powers?
Little You scoffed, and Little Damian giggled. The biggest surprise was that goosebumps didn't rise up your neck and arms, but instead they seemed totally normal despite their uncanny appearance. “Maybe it's just a coincidence.” You murmured in his earshot.
He pursed his lips. “Unlikely. State your names and purpose.” He spoke louder for them to hear.
The girl rolled her eyes. “You wouldn't even know our names if we said them, so why should we?”
The boy smiled brightly, a stark opposite to her. “Dumeyx!” He introduced himself, the word coming out completely different than any language you've heard before.
“Where are you from?” You asked, curious.
“Obviously not here, dipshi—” The girl was interrupted by the boy, who covered her vulgar mouth with his hand.
“Zriff.” He said quickly. “But, uh, you wouldn't know it.”
“I'm too tired to play games with them.” Damian said, turning to dial a number into his phone. In a flash, the phone was crushed. Neither of the kids had moved an inch, but their eyes were deadset on the phone. You and him both tensed, hands on your weapons.
“Wait!” ‘Dumeyx’ pleaded. “We don't want trouble. We just…” He shared a glance with the girl, who narrowed her eyes. “Need help.”
Glancing around, you nodded hesitantly, earning a deep and hearty sigh from your partner. Ushering the four of you (along with the bike) to the sidewalk and out of the road, you sat on the curb to allow the two ‘kids’ to talk.
“What are you?” Was the first question you asked. And then, “why do you need help?”
Dumeyx replied first. “You might know our kind as ‘Imps’ from the fifth dimension on Zriff.”
Damian crossed his arms, glowering down beside you at the boy who looked just like him. “My father recorded an interaction with one of your kind. ‘Bat-Mite’, it called itself, and it only caused chaos in Batman's image.”
“We're not all like Mister Mxyzptlk or Bat-Mite!” Little You shouted, clenching tiny fists in pure rage.
Dumeyx ‘hmphed’ and nodded defiantly. “Bat-Mite isn't evil, he's Batman's biggest fan! Just like we're your guys’.”
“Biggest fans?” You gawked. Damian sneered.
“Absolutely not. We will not involve ourselves with troublesome Imps, you've already caused enough trouble by making us crash—we're leaving.” He guided you up in an instant, leaving no room for arguments. You hobbled slightly beside him, relenting to his decision. Bat-Mite was more trouble than he was worth, according to the batcomputer and Bruce's retellings.
“A little girl is in danger.”
You paused, turning around to see both of them completely serious.
“Her mother will go to prison soon, and she'll be in the city's jurisdiction. You know how that will end—don't you?” Little You's voice was quieter now, pleading rather than angry. “Imps can do anything—but we made a condition together when we came to Earth. We cannot directly interfere in human lives. You're heroes, aren't you? That's why we're your biggest fans. Save them…please.”
Damian's eye twitched, and his own stillness let you know everything. He was swayed by her words, just the same as you were. “They could be lying,” he murmured into your ear.
“From what Bruce said about Bat-Mite, it's true that they need that ‘one condition’ to limit their power. If they're really in danger…we have a responsibility.”
His jaw ticked, and he nodded once. You both turned around fully. “Okay.” You said. “What's the situation?”
-
The four of you settled on returning to the batcave for the night. The two Imps transformed into smaller versions of the kids that they showed themselves as, and you figured you'd never really see their ‘true forms’ after they already chose their appearances. The one blurry picture of Bat-Mite was a little pale Imp in the Batman costume, after all.
You brought up your phone to dial Dick, who was the only person you could trust to make an adult decision at the moment while Bruce and Alfred were both out of country for the time being. While it rang, you asked Little Imp You her name.
Reluctantly, she answered only after a floating Dumeyx nudged her. “Dicul.”
“Dicul, huh?” You elbowed Damian. “Does that have something to do with my vigilante persona?”
“No.” She huffed, puffing her chubby cheeks out with air. “That just happened to be a coincidence.”
“Is it also a coincidence that you're a total brat and Damian Jr. over there is an angel?”
Damian Jr. in question was, in fact, not even paying attention anymore. He was smothering Alfred the Cat in hundreds of little smooching kisses and nuzzling her little black-and-white face.
“I had the same thought.” Damian murmured from the batcompter, researching every little bit of information it had available on fifth dimensional Imps.
Finally, Dick picked up after two or so calls.
“...wait…m’yeah?” There was some shuffling, and some sleepy mumbles heard from him and who you presumed to be Starfire.
You withheld a gag. “Hey, Dick. We have a situation here in the batcave.”
“Arkham Breakout?”
“No.”
“Bats find another kid?”
“Not this time.” Damian pitched in, leaning back in the chair.
“Did you guys find a kid?”
“Not…exactly?” You cocked your head, squinting at the Imps.
You could hear him sit up, knocking some things over in the process. “Did you—Are you—Don't tell me you're—”
“I'm not!” You practically screeched into the phone, rolling your eyes at his loud sigh of relief.
“Can't be that bad, then.”
“It's, how do I say this, Imps?”
“Imps?” He repeats. You hum.
“Like, from Zriff?”
“You know about them?” You glanced at Damian, who looked utterly done with this whole conversation.
“Yeah.” He said casually. The shrug was practically audible. “I got one a few years back. Called himself Nite-Mite.”
“That's pretty cute.” You cooed, imagining a little Imp Nightwing floating around causing chaos.
Damian, on the other hand, did not find amusement in the thought. He snatched the phone from your hands, “we've got two Imps here claiming they need help. How do we get rid of them?”
“That's not—" You reached for the phone, irked when he raised it just out of reach, still on speakerphone as he lightly pushed your face away.
Dick's cackle was heard across the cave. “You two got your very own Imps? I gotta see this, send a pic!”
“I will do no such thing, Grayson.” He growled. “Maybe I should call father and inform him that you were too busy lazing off with Koriand'r rather than watching over the city he left you in charge of.”
Dick sucked a breath between his teeth. “Okay, okay, little wing, cool your jets, I'll help. Imps are known for their trickery, like Superman and Batman's little followers, but some have other motives. Nite-Mite was actually pretty cool, he came to me, we helped each other out, he went back home. Zip, zap, zup.”
“...What?” Damian asked, and you shrugged.
“Is that all you got?”
“Yep!” He chirped.
You both, plus Dicul, sighed.
“What do we do?” You asked, finally snatching your phone back when he brought his arm down in defeat.
“You guys got this. Just follow your gut.” He said, all too eager to return to his lover. “I'll talk to you guys later, buh-bye.”
The dial tone sounded, and you slumped your forehead onto Damian's shoulder. “Trust our guts? With fifth dimensional Imps?”
“Still here.” Dicul frowned.
“What does your gut say?” You ignored her.
“That I'm idiotic for even considering working with them.”
“And?”
He paused. “If there's really a girl and her mother in trouble, I'd be even more stupid not to help.”
“Damned if we do, damned if we don't.” You agreed.
“We'll help you guys.” They both perked up, lining themselves in front of you and leaving their surrounding gadgets and felines alone.
“On one condition.” Damian crossed his arms, looking quite like his father with all the sternness of Batman.
They frowned, mood dampened as quickly as it lifted.
“No more of that phone-crushing, for starters.” You muttered.
“And—” He added, more severely. “The moment things get messy, you two are out of our way.”
“We can do that!” Little Damian giggled, and Dicul begrudgingly nodded her approval.
You leaned back on the batcomputer's desk, crossing your ankles. “If we're all ready, fill us in. How exactly did you even find out about this?”
“We were just passing through Earth when we saw someone die.”
You blanched, exchanging yet another look with Damian in concern at their nonchalantness.
“He's lying.” She corrected him. “We were following you two.”
“Without us noticing?”
“Imps can be whatever we want to be.” She shrugged. “And we didn't need to be seen by you, so we weren't.” Clever, you supposed, but still creepy.
Dumeyx kicked his feet bashfully. “We just got bored during your gunfight with Black Mask's men. We were wandering around the block while we waited for you guys.”
Sighing, you rubbed your temples to be rid of the oncoming headache. “You just happened to be wandering around while we were busy and witnessed a murder?”
“Yep!” They both said, grinning.
“Right.” Damian sheathed his swords onto his back, unlocking the batmobile with the key fob. “Let's see this for ourselves.”
You got in shotgun, allowing the Imps to take the cramped backseat and half-listen to them whisper to each other in their language. Turning to them as Damian whizzed out of the cave and onto the Gotham city streets, you shot them a stern look.
“Another condition—you guys stay in those forms. I don't want civilians passing by and freaking out over two actual kids being involved in…whatever it is we're doing.”
“Aye, Captain!” Dumeyx saluted playfully, shifting his skin to look like he had his own Robin suit and mask on in his mini version, just as Dicul did with your costume, just a little more resiliently.
You pet his spiky hair, laughing lowly when he leaned into it like Alfred the Cat does. The little Imp was quite cute, you had to admit.
The other one, on the other hand…
You grimaced watching her biting into a street pole with razor sharp teeth, leaving hundreds of little dents after so many wild chomps. There was no way she could be your biggest fan, you had nothing in common!
The address that they had given you led to an apartment complex near Crime Alley, more in Jason's territory than yours.
“If Todd shows up, I'm out.” Damian grunted, jumping out of the batmobile after shutting all of its lights off.
“I dunno, he could be useful.” You said, and laughed when he shot a nasty glare your way.
“There they are.” Dicul pointed from her completely nondiscreet floating above your head. A basement level apartment with its lights dimmed and curtains drawn showed only a figure moving across the room, pacing wildly.
“Right.” You said, suddenly nervous. “Do we just…knock?”
“We never knock.” Your partner let out a breathy and sharp amused sound from his nose, confidently walking around the side of the building and to the side window.
You looked at him, wincing. “I'm not climbing through that.” You refused. The window, being on the basement level, was smaller than normal windows and, like its namesake, against the disgusting ground. Around it was mysterious liquid, gunk, and debris that showed the maintenance team for the apartment complex was likely nonexistent or underpaid.
“Oh, then you're welcome to go around the back door.” He crossed his arms, an unimpressed expression crossing his face.
“Is there one?” You asked, glancing around to the back wall.
Sighing, he shook his head, grumbling some more under his breath and getting to his knees, cracking open the small window and sliding through without much effort.
Some shuffling was heard, and some slow, impacted footsteps along the thin carpet. You waited outside, still, ignoring the judgmental looks from both of the Imps next to you.
Finally, his gloves peaked out again. A towel was laid out on the ground and his eyes almost glowed from inside the dark space.
Impressed and totally not embarrassed at all, you jumped down onto the floor with him, watching the Imps easily float down after you, commenting on the interesting decor.
“When did you become such a princess?” He asked, brushing himself off.
“Since I spent so much time with you.” You replied quickly. A few years ago, he would've been the one refusing to get dirty. But, times change, and he's not the one making your guy's suits by hand.
Behind the door, was the shadow of the pacing woman again. The room you landed in was the bathroom, a lucky find over the bedrooms. Slowly, you cracked open the door. There was no easy way to go about this.
In the dim light, a curly-haired woman was running her hands through her hair wildly, feet dragging holes into the ground with her paces. Down the hall, a light was seen from one of the bedrooms. The daughter, presumably, holed up in her room likely by command of her mother.
You both made yourself known, standing in the doorway of the open hall and watching her notice your sudden presence. She screamed, backing herself into a wall by instinct and then immediately running to the bedroom's door to stand in front of it after she realized her priority.
“Wait—” You held up your hands to show no harm. Damian, in all his nonchalance, crossed his and leaned against the wall.
“Who are you?!” She asked, panting. Then, “Don't take her!” A desperate plea.
“We aren't here for your daughter.” Damian said calmly. She didn't listen, still pressed against the door like a feral cat. At the ruckus, the girl opened the door and peaked her little head out. A spitting image of her mom, the girl had dark curls surrounding her face and bright eyes. She couldn't be older than seven or eight years old.
But there was something else.
Something that struck you more than anything else could've.
Metahumans?
“Momma?” She asked, tugging her mom's shirt. She brushed her daughter's arm away, urging her back into her room. But the girl was stubborn, pushing past her and speaking to you both.
“I know you!” She said, a cheery look on her face.
She does? it wouldn't be far-fetched, many citizens knew your guy's faces in Gotham, Robin's more than your own from your time with the Teen Titans, but still.
“I saw you on the news.” She explained. “You saved that lady from the ice guy! Did you come to bring my papa home?”
Behind her, the mother grimaced. She shrunk into herself subconsciously, but didn't relax one bit. You were heroes, clearly, based on your uniforms and her daughter's retellings. But in this world, sometimes the heroes weren't always on your side.
“Not exactly, sweetie.” You knelt on one knee, lowering yourself to her level. “What happened to your dad?”
“He fell asleep in the middle of the sidewalk.” She giggled, then frowned. “He was scaring me, but I think he was just tired.”
“Scaring you?”
The mother came up quickly, guiding her by her shoulders and back into her room. “Come on, Isa, let the adults talk for a moment.”
“But momma—”
“No buts.” She interrupted, and her daughter groaned. She shut the door, leaning her forehead on it for a few moments to collect herself. When she clicked the door shut, her long sleeve rode up.
Bruises. You looked at Damian, but he already noticed based on his narrowed look.
“The police sent you?” She asked weakly.
“Something…adjacent.” You said vaguely. “No, we're not here to barge in and separate you two. We want to help.”
She turned.
“Help?” She croaked out, tears filling her already red-rimmed and puffy eyes. “You can't help me.”
“If you explain yourself, we will.” Robin spoke, voice rumbling through the small apartment.
She glanced warily between you two. “You two…I do know you. You work for Batman.”
“No, we don't.” You both answered at the same time, earning a confused look from her.
You sighed. “Look, just tell us what happened. It's either us, who will listen, or the police, whom I can assure you will not be so generous.”
“Don't I know it.” She mumbled, and you offered a small smile. “What…exactly do you know?”
“Something something murder, something something jail, something something you'd be separated from your daughter.”
Damian snorted. “Helpful.”
She hugged herself. “And how do you know about this?”
On cue, the two little Imps jumped (flew) out from behind you two. You quickly tugged one to your chest, little Dumeyx, while Damian dragged Dicul back by her hood. She flinched heavily at first, not quite believing her sight of the two mini versions of you.
“Drones?”
“Worse.” You sighed. “Either way, your two witnesses.” You covered his mouth, preventing any unnecessary blabbing.
She slumped her tense shoulders. Not relaxing, but defeated.
-
You all sat on the couch (really meant for three people, but somehow squeezed all of you on there, Damian more so leaning on the armrest and standing over you while the Imps sat in the middle, enjoying their popsicles that she so generously provided.
Miriam, you learned her name was, retold her events of the day.
All the while, she wrung her hands. “We were just running some errands this evening. Isa has a project she forgot about, so we ran to the store to pick up some supplies.”
Nodding, you sat back into the armrest.
She continued, eyes darting between you and Damian with each pause. “And then, on the way home, Isa's father, Liam, he…”
“It's okay, Miriam.” You comforted. “We're not here to judge you.”
“He has these moments of anger. Really, I'm good at calming him down, and taking it so my daughter doesn't have to. I always am.” She looked so tired, so drained of life. “But this time, there was no room to hide her in. He got aggressive on the way back home from the market. As you can see,” she gestured to her head, which carried two antenna-like growths that almost blended into her hair. Her daughter had more unnaturally colored ones, standing out against her skin more. “I'm a meta, and so is my daughter. I can influence emotions through touch, and it usually works with Liam. But this time...I don't know what happened.”
She dug her face into her hands, sobbing into her palms. “He fell asleep, and that's normal, right? But he just—he wouldn't wake up. I had to go. I have to go, I'll go to prison and my daughter will be all alone—you have to understand, I can't go to jail, please.”
It was a lot to process.
“Thank you, Miriam.” You said softly, slowly. “Let us discuss this for a minute, we'll be right back.”
She watched you leave with a tense, wary gaze. In a flash, you got your own truth from her right before you closed the door.
Fuck.
You reconvened in the bathroom with Damian.
“She's lying.” He said immediately. “You need to find out what really happened and read her mind—”
“I already did, who do you take me for?” You shot back, slightly irritated but entirely too defensive.
She was guilty.
Completely guilty, by his standards. And the law's.
But not by yours.
“Look,” You started, watching his brow lift in expectation. Then, you were jolted into focus at the sound of thundering footsteps outside. He heard it, too, perking up and exiting the cramped bathroom to the unsuspecting residents still sitting on the couch.
“We have to leave.” Miriam looked up, panicked at his words.
“Leave?” She asked, standing.
The door pounded with several thunderous bangs.
“Gotham PD, open up!” An officer shouted, continuing to knock his fist into it harshly. You shushed the Imps, ushering them into the bathroom and watched Miriam immediately jump into action, grabbing her daughter from her room as she came out to investigate the noise.
“Help us.” She begged, holding Isa in her arms with wide eyes.
Despite his reservation, Damian was the first to move. He guided the mother and daughter down the hallway, scanning the windows for any shadows.
In the bathroom, you lifted both of them out of the window after Damian went through first to sweep the area. All belongings had to be abandoned without a second thought, along with the memories within the apartment. You heard the door get busted down right as you lifted Miriam's feet off the ground, the Imps buzzing around you in a confusing flurry with panic of their own. Jumping out next, you left the bathroom door slightly cracked and the window shut carefully behind you. Gotham PD were idiots, and the time someone like you or Robin would take to track yourselves would be tripled with their task force.
He rounded them all up to the batmobile without a hitch, and you stayed behind to do some crowd control. On the fire escape, you laid low and tuned into the police radio.
“Female suspect…away…male suspect in pursuit now.”
Male suspect?
Taking a shallow breath in, you followed the patrol vehicles after they cleared out the apartment, leaving two men to watch over it in case anyone came back. Everything would be left in there; important documents, alibis, her electronic footprint. You couldn't save any of it without being caught, and for now your first priority would have to be finding out whoever this ‘male suspect’ was. With a brief message to Damian, you were offline.
A few cops separated from the pack to chase, while others returned to the dept, sitting at their cramped desks and filing away reports of the current investigation while it was still fresh on their minds. You stood at one of the back windows, raising a seeing-glass device that recorded and allowed you to discreetly view whatever it was aimed at. On the little screen, you watched the officer type on his document before switching tabs to a blurry screen, playing what looked to be a CCTV video.
A man, woman, and little girl walked down a sidewalk in the early hours of the night. The woman was tense, her arm in a tight grip from the man's meaty hand not letting her walk more than six inches away from him. The girl's hand was gentler in her mother's grip as she walked on her other side, oblivious to her mother's mistreatment. They rounded a corner, disappearing into an alleyway and out of the camera's view.
A mere twenty seconds later, sped up, a man in all black and his hands shoved into his pockets swaggered around the corner after them. He paused when the man was turning, zooming in the best he could to make out the details of his side profile. In black-and-white, there was only so much you could make out.
The cop pressed on a small intercom, “Sheri, could you call in a facial analysis tech for this case? Records not scannin’ anything for shit.”
A mumble met his orders, and he sat back into his chair with a deep sigh.
The regular police tech might not be able to scan for this guy's face, but Bruce's definitely will.
You pocketed all your stuff away, slinking back into the shadows.
-
Damian sent you the location of a safehouse near the docks, mostly Jason's territory to protect and watch over but it would do for the equipment you needed while not leading civilians to the batcave.
He fixed you with a stern look the moment you jumped down from the roof, pulling you aside before the two others could even acknowledge you from their place on the cot. From your quick scan, you could see Isa being distracted by the two Imps, not at all bothered by their inter-dimentional appearances.
Heavy hands laid severely on your shoulders, and you realized just how much he looked like Bruce when he was upset.
“You pulled away.” He said.
“I followed the cops, I told you this.” You defended, deflecting his anger.
“Yes, and it was a reckless move. If they had caught you, we'd have warrants put out on us immediately for harboring a criminal.”
“Potential criminal, and when did Gotham PD become a threat to me? They wouldn't notice me if I slapped them across the face in their own office.”
He lifted a brow. “Guilty until proven innocent. And with the lie she just gave us, I'm leaning towards guilty.”
“You don't know anything, Robin.” You hissed, brushing his hands off of you.
“Oh yeah?” His lip curled at your attitude. “So why don't you fill me in, since you know everything?”
“I would if I could trust that you'd put aside your biases for one second.”
He flinched slightly, pulling away. “You don't trust me?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, you realized your poor choice of words. “No, that's not what I meant and you know it. I mean…you think a crime is black-and-white despite the context behind it.”
“I do.” He scoffs, throwing his hands up. “We've never argued on that before. If someone deserves justice, it will be served.”
“I agree when it comes to people like the Joker or Mr. Freeze. But if a starving mother steals a cart of groceries?” You asked. “Does she deserve the same punishment as a person robbing the same store for kleptomaniacal desires?”
Damian pursed his lips.
“Or—” You continued, throwing out whatever word vomit you couldn't contain. “If someone kills someone in self defense, does this put them on the same level as someone killing for fun?”
He stiffened. “Is that what happened?”
“Wait—”
He shouldered past you, leaving the cramped storage closet. “You knew what happened, and you didn't tell me?”
“I knew you'd react like this!”
He ignored you, striding right up to Miriam, whose eyes widened at his intimating stance.
“I'm turning you in to the police.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your case will be taken to trial under a fair judge and jury ruling, and out of our hands.”
“Robin!” You shouted, pulling him away from them. His lack of empathy for ‘criminals’ of any caliber really sucked, sometimes. “We're not doing it this way!”
The moment you yanked his arm, she made her move. With a brief touch to his chest, he fell to the floor and on top of you. He recovered immediately, seemingly only afflicted by a sudden case of dizziness, but this only served to piss him off more.
This wasn't going how you planned one single bit.
Whatever. You cursed, knowing it would simply have to change and you'd just have to adjust to whatever got thrown your way. Miriam would escape, and you'd convince your partner to allow it. The hardest part? Actually stopping him.
He chased after them, and you smacked him upside the skull with your bo staff, knocking him to the ground momentarily. He got up quickly, moving with all the ease of a trained assassin and a Robin, sweeping your feet.
“What are you doing?!” He asked, eyes wild. You jump up just as swiftly as you fell, latching onto his front.
“Go!” You shouted past his shoulder, watching the woman take to her feet easily and scoop up her daughter, who clung to her pants in distress.
Miriam ran out of the safehouse with Isa in her arms, who watched over her mother's shoulder as you pinned Damian to the ground.
He struggled under your vice grip on his shoulders and weight over his hips and thighs. “She's a criminal, I have to—”
“Shut up!” You grit, releasing your taser-knuckles and placing them against the column of his throat. He stilled, but his breaths were still ragged, heaving his chest up and down beneath you. Was it a bluff? He knew better than that. You'd had a thousand spars get a lot rougher than this, and would have a thousand more. It wouldn't hurt him much, but the severity in your eyes was enough to compel him to stop, albeit unwillingly.
You both waited in silence while the footsteps receded and eventually died out completely. You relaxed, sheathing the small metal conductor but not moving off of him.
There was some shuffling beside you, and you realized you had completely forgotten about the very Imps that led you to the case in the first place. Slightly annoyed at seeing them eavesdrop two feet away from your face with pouty lips and dramatically tearful eyes, you turned back to him.
“It's…” You sighed. “It's more complicated than self-defense, or just plain murder. You know if she goes on trial, that jury will do everything in their weak-minded ability to put her in Arkham forever. They don't care that she was protecting her daughter, they care that she's a freak mutant meta and should be locked in a cage forever. It's Gotham—not Metropolis—it's so much worse here for people like us.”
“Sometimes, we have to let the system handle these things.” He said calmly. “If you let every metahuman be pardoned, for whatever reason, then justice would lose it's meaning.”
“Sometimes,” you exaggerated. “You think everything is so perfect with the system and you ignore the fact that most of the people in it get unreasonable punishments!”
You were about to continue, about to shout all the built up feelings you had allowed to fester for years in frustration. Gothan was corrupt, the system was corrupt, and Batman and Robin were too straight-edged to realize it. They tossed criminals to the cops and allowed them to handle it in the worst ways possible, deeming their jobs satisfactory at the end of the day. You were guilty of this, too. But just this once, you could actually help this family, and you wouldn't let the opportunity slip away.
Just as you opened your mouth to continue, you were tackled to your side. You grunted at the impact, scrunching your nose up at the little Robin-figured Dumeyx that decided you needed to be taken down.
“Stop fighting!” He shouted into your suit's collar, toddler-esque cries muffled in the fabric. You slumped into the floor, petting the brown hair on his head and giving up on your argument. What was the point, when Damian was too hard-headed to be changed?
He seemed to be locked into a similar situation, anyway. Dicul, in her own stubborn and grumpy fashion, kicked at his ribs with a fury unlike any other you'd seen on a person her size. Upset, just like her partner, just in her own unique way.
You pried the Imp off your chest, standing and brushing yourself off from the fight, holding a hand out for Damian to take, which he easily accepted after escaping Dicul's clutches. “We're not fighting.” You assured them. “Just…having a discussion.”
A real fight would be catastrophic. You couldn't even remember how long it'd been since your last one, and you didn't want a repeat of that awful situation.
“Right.” He said curtly. In your peripheral, you noticed the laptop perched on the kitchenette's table, reminding you of a very important detail.
“The cops were useful for one thing.” You said, lifting the drive from your spyware. “There's a second suspect.”
“Suspect?” He asked, leaning over your shoulder as you began a scan for the mab's face. “I thought she did it?”
“Oh, she did.” You said quickly, earning a sharp look from him that you decided to ignore. “But—they had a point. He was sketchy. And, apparently he got away."
Damian watched the footage with a keen eye, mulling over it wordlessly. In a matter of minutes, the search was over.
“Kenneth Myers.” You murmured, pulling up his records. Immediately, it came up with a mugshot. Blonde tussled hair, deep sunken eyes, an almost dead look in the blue depths as he stared into the camera.
“Charged for human trafficking, aggravated assault, and drug abuse.” He concluded, jaw ticking at the information. “Released on good behavior after serving five years out of his twelve-year sentence.”
“See?” You asked, gesturing to the laptop. “Corrupt.”
“Indeed.” He conceded. “But what does he have to do with this case?”
“In her memories, I saw her shoving her husband to the floor and away from her daughter. He hit his head on the sidewalk, and that was that. Lights out.”
“And him?” He asked, half to himself.
“He followed them into the alleyway. But as far as I could tell, she never even saw him.”
He hummed, and took the laptop from your hands. Over his shoulder now, you could see him looking up the human trafficking case in further detail.
Articles popped up immediately.
Metahuman Trafficking: An Underground Epidemic
The Gotham Times sure didn't pull any punches with their article names. You knew of it, everybody did. It was especially bad in places that are surrounded by the sea or near the borders of other countries, places like New Jersey. So rampant and common that even Bruce couldn't keep track of all the involved dealers properly as it grew in popularity. This is why Metas avoided Gotham so much—the danger was exponentially worse than other areas.
Kenneth, amongst many other names, were mentioned on the arrest sheet for one of the bust locations GPD cracked—one of their only credits.
“He knew they were Metas.” You confirmed, tensely crossing your arms. Beside you Dumeyx tugged slightly on your cheek, attempting to cheer you up. You couldn't bring yourself to wave him off, though the attempt was sweet.
“Well,” he sighed, closing the laptop. “Let's go pay ‘Kenny’ a visit.”
-
Kenneth's apartment was one of the more dilapidated ones you'd seen, even in Crime Alley. It looked like a mix between a trap house and a hoarder house trapped inside of a one bedroom apartment's body. You waited in front of the door while Damian entered through the bedroom window, the Imps following him right into the action.
There was some shuffling, muffled shouts, and a clear hard shove before the door opened. Dicul was the one to open it, a playfully evil look crossing her masked face. Immediately, you put your hands on your lips in the same way Dick does when you come home looking awfully guilty.
“What did you do?”
“I didn't do anything!” She said, adamantly shaking her head. Damian appeared behind her like a shadow, moving her by her hood away from his face and nodding for you to come in.
“The apartment is clear.” He said. “Besides your guy, of course.”
Your guy in question was hog-tied on his dirty coffee table like the Thanksgiving turkey. The gag in his mouth prevented him from screaming, but he sure knew how to wriggle around.
“Good work, guys.” You high-fived the Imps, and they celebrated with little flying victory laps around the tight space. He looked even more disgusted at the sight of them, but flinched when you tore the gag off.
“You gonna be a good boy and not scream?” You asked, tossing it aside to the piles of junk lying around.
“Fuck you.” He spat. “I don't have to tell you freaks shit, I'm innocent!”
In a flash, your partner moved to slam his head down into the table. Not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to set him straight. He tilted his head back up, forehead bright and red and looked right up at you like you were scum on his shoe—despite being the one below all of you.
“I know what you are. Dirty, disgraceful aliens coming onto our world and taking things that don't belong to you.”
“I'm human, dipshit. We all are.” You scoffed. “Metahumans are born on Earth, we're not fucking aliens. Sorry, guys.” You added as a small consolation to the Imps, who shrugged your words off.
“What did you do to that man?” Robin asked, shifting topics.
“What man?” He asked, still shifting in his bindings.
“Don't play dumb.” You said. “I can see everything you did in two seconds flat. I suggest you confess and make your sentence easier.”
“I don't know what you're talking about, you crazy bitch!”
Damian glanced up at you, nodding.
You rolled your eyes, blinking and finding yourself in the exact memory you were looking for. Through his eyes, you saw the back of Miriam and Isa's curly heads of hair along with Liam's back profile dragging his wife into that alleyway.
Kenneth had been following behind for a lot longer than CCTV suggested. His memory went back hours, days, weeks. He memorized their schedules, knew where Miriam and Isa worked and went to school, what days they ran errands, and when Liam was with them and not with them.
Today was the first day in the week that the father had decided to go outside on a group outing with them.
Through his eyes, you could also see his vile, disgusting thoughts. He pulled out a remote device, pushing a few buttons and aiming it right at Miriam, who was already struggling with Liam.
He was calming down, supposedly from her empathic-touch power, but suddenly went limp after Kenneth's device went off.
You brought yourself out, narrowing your eyes down at him. Suddenly, he looked extremely nervous. Not guilty, scum like him didn't have the mental capacity. But he knew what jail meant, and he knew he wasn't the type to thrive in it, being the greasy skinny nobody that he was.
“Where is it?” You demanded. “The remote?”
The Imps got to work after he decided now was the perfect time to clamp his lips shut, scouring the apartment's piles for electronics and other such devious items. In a flash, they found various contraband and delivered it to your feet like ancient Grecian servants.
Inspecting the remote from his memory, you looked to your partner for further context. “He aimed this thing at her while she was calming her husband down. Something made her powers amplify, but how did she forget that he was in her memories?
In his gloved hands was a small laptop, filled with footage of similar metahuman people being used as weapons one way or another. All the clips were recorded through sleekly disguised camera glasses, and after each clip was a file attached with the mugshots and charges attached to each meta.
“You're framing metahumans?” You asked, outraged. It was your turn to rough him up—against Damian's wishes.
He tugged your arm slightly back towards him, “we got all we need, Lucid.”
“Fuck that!” You hissed. “This fucker's got a whole system of putting metas in prison for his crimes—he deserves a lot worse than what I'll do.”
“Trust me, it's taking a lot of self-control to not do the exact same thing. But if we turn him in all beat up, we'll only be helping his case.”
You took a healthy step back, scoffing but still backing down. Damian cuffed Kenneth, leaving him to shout insults all the way out of the door and to the curb, where he was left chained up to a lightpost. Stewing in your anger, you stood a few yards away from all of them, watching blankly as Damian scolded the Imps for roughing up the evidence too much. They seemed to only listen to every other world, just happy that he was giving them attention at all, the little brats.
Memory wiping, framing metas, trafficking. This was only one guy—one brick in the massive pyramid that tunneled deep below the ground and high into the sky. Miriam would be okay. Isa would be okay. But what about the ones already sentenced? What about the ones who would still be framed and no one would know about it or care?
Super villains were so much easier to handle than the everyday bastards that flooded the streets. You'd fight and defeat a hundred Darkseids before ever grazing the surface of schemes like these.
The cops came and went, promising to look further into this and not let the fucker get out anytime soon. It was all bullshit, lies told straight through their teeth. Within the hour, the apartment was blocked off for evidence and everyone else was gone.
Damian sat with you on the curb. The Imps followed, surrounding you on either side.
“Thank you.” He said quietly. “For stopping me.”
You hummed lowly. “Who else would do it besides me?”
“And us!” Dicul said.
“You didn't even do anything.” You teased, mood slightly lightened by the distractions. You swiftly dodged her punch, tackling the little flying fairy to the ground and pretending to get beat up by her ridiculously light kicks and punches. Damian watched on for a long moment, smirking at the amusing sight before eventually caving and tearing her off of you, plopping her down beside her own companion.
“You guys did good.” You said, readjusting yourself to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Damian and look over his shoulder at them. “Really, we'd have never found out about this whole case without you.”
“Obviously.” She smirked.
“Thank you!” Dumeyx grinned.
“Why were you guys really visiting Earth?” Damian asked, leaning back on his palms. “And why us?”
“Why not?” Dicul seemed genuinely confused at the question.
“We watch over all activity on Earth.” He nodded. “Supers, metas, humans. It's all so fascinating—so chaotic. Most of you can't even do much without powers like us, but you find ways to live with each other despite your differences.” He gestured to you and Damian; the meta and human.
“You're the coolest.” She mumbled, barely audible. You smiled at the confession.
“Cooler than Batman? Wonder Woman? Superman?”
“I'm not saying it again.” She flushed under the dim light, making you stifle a chuckle at her attitude.
“I'm surprised she likes you at all.” Damian murmured, eyeing her.
“I'm surprised he likes you! You're so different." You agreed, laughing obnoxiously when the two of them began their own argument, both of them defending their favorites (you guys) and how one was obviously the cooler choice.
Dicul was a big fan of you being a metahuman, insisting you were like a flower growing between the cracks of cement, refusing to die off just because of your circumstances.
Dumeyx was a fan of Damian's quote unquote ‘awesome’ assassin origins and being the son of two elite fighters.
“I have to agree with Dicul.” You nudged him as they argued in front of you passionately.
“What?” He blinked.
“I am cooler.”
He was silent for a moment. Then, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
“Yeah.” He said. “You are.”
anyway, fuck ice
go read the nite-mite comic if you can, it's so cute and funny (ignoring that babsdick)
also, the part where Dumeyx was like 'stop fighting' was totally inspired by this little guy from smiling friends
tags: @xxjesshuxx @r-4-y-v-3-n @bambbibam @graythecoffeebean @kiaraandrea @niyareloadedd @lovemoneybtw @dreaming-of-the-reality @himikoquack @lunadi1una @nutellaenjoyer @whyucloudingmymind @milam03 @justanotherweeb666 @k1ttyfried @alishii
