[Nomz] Damian Wayne {Detective Comics}

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General Information

Full Name
Damian Wayne

Codename or Alias
Damian al Ghul
Hafid al Ghul
Demon's Son
Robin
Renegade

Anonymity
Secret Identity: Damian Wayne - Known by Gotham press and anyone who looks into Sen. Bruce Wayne as Damian is his youngest son.

Hero Identity: Renegade - A brand new Vigilante around New York City

Retired:

SPOILER: Click to show

Robin is a title that is known through its association with Batman. Only those close to home (Gotham) know that there is another new Robin on the rooftops.

Gender
Male

Race
Human

Age
13 years old

Place Of Birth
League Facility, Undisclosed Location

Occupation/Status
Street Vigilante
Student of Lady Shiva
Student of Master Splinter
Student at Gotham Prep

Alignment
Hero

Factions
The League of Assassins (Formerly)
The Bat-Family (Formerly?)

Canon Or Original?
Canon (Detective Comics)

Abilities

SPOILER: Click to show

Peak Human Condition
Damian was born and bred as a successor to Ra's. While that is no longer an end goal for him, there are some punishments the body does not forget. His formative years were spent under the thumb of some of the League's most brutal teachers and, though he has been in Gotham for a few years, he has not let up on his training. Damian has pushed his young body to the limits of what it can accomplish and intends to keep this up for the rest of his life.

Weapons Training
Archery, Bo Staff, Firearms, Swordplay, Thrown Weapons - As part of his training under the League, Damian was instructed on using multiple weapons. Though he is no Deadshot or Green Arrow, his skill with these ranged weapons is nothing to scoff at.

Martial Arts
Damian has stated he knows just as many martial arts as Batman and can use them more effectively. This may be a largely overstated comment, but one should not ask for verification. Damian may not be physically tough, but he knows how to control his weight to his advantage in combat. He has stated that he knows "one thousand ways to kill a man." Damian's training with Batman and the League of Assassins has made him a highly formidable combatant.

Artistry
Damian is considered as skilled with a brush as he is with a sword. If he bothered to let his teachers to submit his work, he would have already won an award or two in school.

Essentials
Business Management, Cooking, Computer Hacking, Driving, Escapology, Intimidation

Bat-Essentials
Deception: According to Batman, Robin was a skilled liar.
Disguise: Damian has disguised himself as an elderly bus driver and a substitute teacher.
Genius Level Intellect: Damian has inherited a genius IQ from his father. He states he is smarter than anyone teaching at any level of school. Intelligence doesn't always equate to wisdom.
Investigation: Damian has only been around the Bat-Family for the last two years. While his investigation abilities may be above average, he is nowhere near the experience and skill of the elder bats.
Stealth: Damian was able to sneak into Gotham City and furthermore into the Batcave virtually undetected until he felt necessary. Of all the Robins, Damian may be the one who is the most silent.

Weapons/Items:
Sword (Retired)
Batarangs Throwing Knives
Collapsible Bo Staff
Grappling Gun
Utility Belt: An assortment of goodies that have been influenced by Damian's assassin training, Bat training, and the accidental mischievousness of a 13-year-old.

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Appearance

Personality

Sexual Orientation:
Asexual

General Personality:
There are so many words that could describe Damian Wayne. Arrogant comes to mind for some while others may go for haughty or vain. These descriptions are not incorrect. Damian is a boy who spent the majority of his life being told that he is better and above all of those around him. His exceptional skills only hammered that point home. It has only been during his time with the Belfry Brood that things have changed in that on that front. Damian still believes he is better than most (and he is better than some), but he is growing to understand that there are people in the world who are simply greater than he is. 

When you can get past his obstinate and condescending behavior, Damian is a rather good individual. Kind would be going a bit too far. Part of being Robin has been him learning how to extend his care beyond himself and his goals. It is not always easy and he does not always do it well. For what Damian lacks in ability here, he makes up for in determination to eventually succeed. He is very similar to most of the Belfry Brood in that manner, in that inextinguishable need to complete the mission or save the victim or prove that he is worthy. 

He has only been in Gotham for a little under two years and, as such, there are still many social queues that he misses. There are many situations that he finds himself in with not clear way out because his social skills aren't quite up to par. It is easier for him to hide his inadequacies under that pompous attitude. 

Face/Voice:
Jude Michael Rodricks

Anything Else
Damian is a vegan.
He's likely to adopt any animal he comes across.
When he thinks something is funny, he lets out the most sarcastic little laugh. 

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Character's History

Mother:
Talia al Ghul

Father:
Bruce Thomas Wayne

Siblings:
Richard Grayson / "Nightwing"
Jason Todd / "Red Hood"
Timothy Drake / "Red Robin"
*Duke Thomas / "Signal"
*Barbara Gordon / "Oracle"
*Stephanie Brown / "The Spoiler"
*Cassandra Cane / "Batgirl"
**Respawn

Other Family:
*Paternal Grandfather: Alfred Pennyworth
Maternal Grandfather: Ra's al Ghul
Paternal Cousin: Katherine Kane / "Batwoman"

* Family in spirit, not by law.
** Half-Brother & partial clone.

History:

A Beginning

"My Mother told me, 'Don't get in trouble.'"

Damian al Ghul was born, he supposes. A technicality, really. Most days, it feels as if he were merely created. A chance combination of two legacy-worthy branches of DNA; an al Ghul and a Wayne. He cannot recall a time when the weight of a weapon had not been pressed into his hands or where the sting of a cane did not grace his back when he failed.

There isn't a time before the callouses formed on his palms. Damian was repeatedly told that he was better. He is the best. He is above all those around him save for his mother and grandfather. For his entire existence, his days consisted of training, education, training, quiet studying, and further training. Damian was worked until he could not stand and then forced onto his feet again.

That isn't to say that Damian meets the requirements for such a base thing as 'pity.' By all means, he knows he lived a privileged life in comparison to the other people being trained alongside him. He certainly lived better than those who died by his blade, and of those, there were many. People who were pitted against him to test his mettle and their will to live. Failures, all of them.

On a rare day, Damian mustered all of his courage and dared to ask his mother about his father. Of course, he knew that his father was The Batman. He knew that he would be expected to live up to that lofty title: The Blood Son. Damian believed his mother knew more about who his father was. The man under the cowl. It was in the search for those details that he experienced such blunt disapproval from his mother. She had said that it was unimportant, unneeded information. Nothing he would ever need to concern himself with. 

She was a liar. 

Gotham

"My Father told me, he knew I would."

Damian rolled his shoulders as he glanced around the edges of what he did not know was the Batcave. Though, the general appearance of disuse was almost enough to make him doubt himself. It looked as if this base under the Wayne Manor was not active. Not in the way that one would expect a place run by multiple vigilantes in a city as pathetically crime-ridden as Gotham. His mother had told him where to go, told him to break into the Wayne manor, and demanded that his father further his training. He tried very hard not to feel like he had been abandoned.

A quick walk up the only staircase and a quicker trek through the halls of his family home led the little assassin into a confrontation with none other than Bruce Wayne. A different life may have ended with a quick confrontation and assistance from Talia. Another life may have ended with him surviving an explosion and nearly having his body stolen by his grandfather. All those lives involved Damian meeting Batman. Not here. Here, he meets Senator Bruce Wayne first. 

He had been asked why he was there rather than how he got in. Damian has straightened his shoulders as his mother had always insisted he should and explained the situation. He was his son. His mother was Talia. He was here to continue his training under the World Famous Detective, Batman. Bruce, Gotham's heartthrob turned politician, took it in stride with more grace than even Damian had expected. A long conversation, DNA test, and another long talk found Damian lying in bed in one of the guest rooms of the manor. 

One line kept the young assassin up until the next morning. Bruce had kept insisting he was not Batman. Gotham didn't have a Batman anymore.

He wasn't lying.

Year One

"My brothers, they told me, 'Don't give a damn.'"

Damian Wayne was reborn, he supposes. A technicality, really. Most days, it feels as if he were merely created. A chance combination of two legacy-worthy branches of DNA; a Wayne and an al Ghul. He cannot recall a time when the weight of school books did not dig painfully into his back or his eyes did not ache from staring at a computer screen for too long.

There isn't a time before the callouses formed on his palms, though they are softening. Damian was repeatedly told that he was not better. He is not the best. He isn't above all those around him. His entire existence consists of 8 hour school days, further studying at home, sitting in on his father's meetings, and more studying. Even despite this, there wasn't enough to fill his days. He was supposed to be learning from Batman and training to take over the position. Instead, he was learning under Bruce and kept off of the streets. 

That had been one thing at the start of it all, the one condition Damian did not dare to break. If he went out into the night, Bruce would shut him out. He would still have a home (because they never did find his mother again), and he would still be fed. But Bruce would not interact with him. They only way to prove himself was to follow these guidelines and eventually take over either Wayne Industries or become a politician like his father. 

This was not the path he had signed up for. He was the son of Batman. The grandson of the Demon's Head. Son of Talia al Ghul. Gotham needed help. It needed Batman. There wasn't even a Robin, but, Damian...he could be Robin. Damian could prove it. He could help. He could make a difference. He could make his father proud. If he could just show his father, surely he would let him out with the countless wards that were technically under his care.

It was these thoughts in mind that he broke the rules that his father so heavily laid on his back. There were many pieces of crime fighting that benefited from his training in the League. Damian found it easy to sneak under the radar of the other Bats in Gotham and found it easier to sneak up on the criminals. Long ago taught battle tactics and the all too familiar feeling of a blade in his hands pushed the young boy further into the fray.

There were many pieces of being a hero that did not benefit from his training. Damian didn't know how to comfort those he helped. He didn't understand that he should follow them back to safety and he learned quickly not to wait for the police to arrive. He learned the hard way how to balance sleep and school and the work he was doing. He struggled to train himself all while avoiding the other vigilantes and the ever-watchful eyes of Bruce and Alfred. 

As it always happens, there came a mission a single baby bird should not have tried to tackle on his own. In retrospect, Damian did everything he could and fell back on the only training he had. In retrospect, this was a mission he should have left to those wiser and more skilled than he was. In retrospect, he would come to recognize that he should have died that night and he would have if Batgirl hadn't been there. He had tried to run afterward, to escape before he could be captured by the elder bat. Damian did not get far.

He had drawn his sword, sliding into a stance that could work offensively and defensively. Batgirl had merely watched him, head tipped to the side in silent question. She held out her hand to him, a tiny black com pinched between her gloved fingers. He still doesn't know what gave him the courage to reach out, to accept the communicator. He does know he'll never forget the sigh of relief when he clicked it on and the warm voice asking, "Are you alright, Babybat?"

"Robin. I'm Robin."

He could hear his brothers laughing over the line.

A Robin

"My sisters, they told me, to do something good."

The Belfry’s Brood pulled Damian under their collective wings, knowing full well that, like every Robin before him, the young bat would not let himself be benched. Damian realized that resisting was pointless. This had been what he wanted. It was a chance to prove himself as Robin, as a worthy successor.

The fact that the Bat’s rules broke several of Talia’s and Bruce’s rules was only a bonus. That didn’t mean he was quite ready for the drastic change this would bring to his life. Damian only had a week of his usual schooling, studying, meetings with Bruce, and then patrolling. Only 7 days in which he could have told his father what had happened. He could have told him everything. In the end, Damian kept everything tucked close to his chest.

On the 8th day, Alfred drove Damian straight home, rather than stopping by the office to spend a few hours following Bruce around. When they entered the manor, they found Stephanie loitering around and waiting for him. She explained she was there to take him over to the Belfry for training and handed him a bag with a costume in it. Red, green, and yellow stared back up at him.

This was the start of his new normal.

He would do good.

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Role Play Sample:

Few things could truly pull a family apart. Even fewer things could tear the Belfry’s Brood into bloody and battered pieces. One of those very, very few things happened as Barbara Gordon reached out to a decorative Tupperware container in the center of the makeshift table, chatting with Grayson about a case involving a turkey, a red scarf, and Mr. Floegel’s dog, Charlie. Damian’s eyes zeroed in on an object that sat alone in the Tupperware container, half hidden behind the smiling, taunting jack-o-lanterns printed on the clear sides.

It was the very last of dearest Alfred’s legend-worthy cookies. The man had decided to take a vacation and was out of town for another two weeks. He had made several batches of treats to keep the Brood sated and, as one would expect from a rowdy group of young adults, they had burned through every cookie like a Californian wildfire in the middle of August.

Damian’s gaze flicked up to meet that of the man sitting directly across from him and Drake merely lifted his brow a fraction, asking for confirmation. Last time, they had been thwarted by an unexpected team-up of Grayson and Cain. Not this time. Even if it meant sharing with the unimaginative lout, Damian refused to lose again.

Metal scraping across hardwood drew every eye as Brown pushed her chair back and stood up. Her hands reached out and began gathering empty dishes even as she spoke some joke or another. Damian wasn’t paying attention. No, his eyes were on the very large, scarred hand sneaking around a distracted Drake and towards the last cookie.

Damian only got so far as planting his foot on his chair for leverage when a butter knife sailed through the air and stabbed into the table’s surface. Todd yelped in surprise, yanking his hand back from the weapon as Drake turned to elbow him in the chest. This was his moment. This was the only opening Damian was going to get.

The preteen kicked off of his chair, knee landing on the tabletop, and snatched the last cookie for himself. If he sneered at the ugly jack-o-lanterns, no one would be able to prove it.

“Damian,” Grayson called his name, no doubt wanting the boy to come to him.

“Jason,” Brown admonished as Todd crashed to the floor with Drake on top of him.

Time was running out. With practiced motions, Damian pulled his grappling gun from his side despite the protest from Gordon that they were ‘strictly forbidden at the table.’

“Hey, wait!”

He didn’t wait. A single click of his favorite tool pulled him up and into the rafters of the Belfry where Damian could crawl out of a window and into the Gotham night. He would enjoy his cookie despite the icy rain soaking through his thin hoodie. If Drake gave him the cold shoulder the rest of the week, well, that was his fault. As if Damian was ever going to actually share such a sacred treat with anyone.