Gotham's nights were often rainy. The corrosive rain suited this cold city perfectly; its rusty smell could mask the scent of blood, while darkness concealed every crime.
At the observation deck atop Wayne Tower, a figure slipped inside after closing hours. The red carpet beneath his feet was instantly soaked, leaving footprints like bloodstains.
This place was usually open to Gotham City's citizens, but with the world's recent chaos, few people were in the mood for sightseeing. A thick layer of dust had settled over many of the displays.
Fortunately, there was no wind here. At least it was quiet on this stormy night.
The figure's Cloak fluttered with each step, and a voice clearly distorted by a voice changer rang out.
"I'm here. Where are you?"
As his words fell, two green points of light appeared in the darkness. Something resembling a television began to squirm and reshape itself, becoming a tall, burly humanoid figure.
"Right here, Little Robin."
"Just call me Robin. Don't add modifiers." Damian rolled his eyes and replied irritably. Clayface sometimes just loved playing pranks.
"Fine, Little Robin. You brothers are too numerous, after all—I'm only trying to tell you apart." Clayface squirmed closer to Damian and lowered his height to meet his gaze. "I remember there used to be Big Robin, Second Robin, Third Robin. You were the Little Robin added to the Bat-Family last, even though you're Batman's biological son. Strange, isn't it?"
Lightning suddenly flashed beyond the observation deck's floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass windows, illuminating Damian's young face in the darkness. But the look in his eyes behind the mask was not nostalgia. It was something else.
He narrowed his eyes, as though shielding them from the bright light.
Biological son, huh.
But some things did not need to become everyone's business. That