[for Stephanie] molossus

Kept in the corner of Damian's bedroom is a wooden dummy, crafted by his own hand with tools he found in the Compound. It's laughably simple in its design, a solid trunk with a few pegs approximately thirty centimeters in length protruding its front and sides to simulate limbs, obstacles.

It's also the fourth such dummy Damian has made since his arrival, the first three having splintered after only a handful of uses. Like any other boy his age, he's rough on his toys (though few other boys regularly employ near lethal violence in the destruction of their playthings). Given the ferocity with which he attacks it, now, however, it's a wonder that a fifth isn't already required.

Not even twenty-four hours since the Batman -- his father -- has stepped foot onto Tabula Rasa, and already Damian has been instructed to stay put. It rankles no less than it did when Grayson dismissed him in Gotham. Perhaps more, in fact, given that there's no danger on this island that could compare to the horrors of the city. He's murderously miserable, cursing Todd and Rapture and the damned arbitrary rules that would keep him above ground under his breath. Still, he's not so distracted that he doesn't realize that someone else has entered the room.

"Unless you're willing to fight me," he grits out between blows, "you should leave."