Blood touches Damian’s face. Warm. Familiar. Wrong. Guest’s. His own body was aching, bruises blooming on his face.

This was all his fault. Obviously everything Slade had said against his mother had been bait, just fuel to the trail of powder he’d been lying down ever since he’d arrived in Gotham.

Damian said he hated Guest just the other day. And Guest had said it back. If nothing all the two had done since Damian arrived and tuck up the mantle of Robin was fight over everything. Fights. Physical or verbal happened on the regular…so…why..?

Green eyes couldnt help but follow the blade as Slade pulled it free from Guest’s torso. More red pooling on the floor before the sound of a heavy boot meeting Kevlar resounds with a ‘thud’ and Damian watches his sibling roll away with a groan.

That blade had been meant for him. That blade would be tinted in his blood if it weren’t for that fact that Guest realized Damian’s tracker had been off for longer than any pre-teen rebellion Damian had pulled before.

Some pre-planned speech starts spilling out of Slades mouth, but he isn’t really hearing it. His head is pounding a little too much for that. Half of his domino mask torn. One revealed green eye watching that sword descend again, this time with nothing in between.