Damian woke up to a throbbing pain in his gut. It felt like he was being stabbed with a burning hot knife. He groaned and turned his head to the side, forcing his eyes open.

He saw that he was in a hospital room, decorated with sky blue walls and white clouds near the ceiling. He was pleasantly surprised to see the lights weren't the usual harsh glare of LEDs; instead they were softer and a yellowish color, like an incandescent bulb. He was alone.

Ignoring the pain in his gut, he tried to get up and failed, flopping onto the bed like a dying fish. He groaned as the pain in his gut flared, making him want to hit something. He sighed, knowing he wasn't going to be doing anything for a while. He moved his hand over his stomach where it throbbed and felt bandages, and under those, stitches.

He searched his mind for the reason his gut hurt, and remembered being impaled by the big chunk of glass in the van he was in. The stitches made sense now. He also remembered that they were, ironically, driving to the hospital at the time. He frowned at the strange circumstances of the incident. The object that had flown at the window was odd; he didn't know what it was, the object had been too blurry for him to see.

But before he could think anymore on the subject, the door opened, and his brothers came in, arguing over something. Again. It's all they seemed to do nowadays. They didn't even notice him until he shifted his head to look at them, raising his eyebrow at their childish behavior, unimpressed.

"Dami!" Dick squealed, rushing towards him and suffocating him in a hug. Damian winced as his wound protested the sudden movement. "I'm so glad you're awake!"

"Grayson, you're crushing me," Damian said, trying to shove him away.

Dick hastily let go of him at his words, having heard the obvious pain in his voice. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Damian! I didn't mean to hurt you! Are you okay? Does-"

Jason laid a hand on Dick's shoulder to get him to stop speaking. The older boy looked at him as he spoke. "Holy shit, Dick. Let the demon breathe. He's fine. Look."

Dick looked at Jason, then at Damian, who was crossing his arms on the bed as he stared at them crankily.

Dick smirked at Damian's expression and nodded. "Yup. He's totally fine. Back to normal already. Isn't this great, Tim?" Dick said, turning to look at teenage boy behind him sitting in a chair as he sorted through bags.

"No." Tim said shortly, not even looking up from what he was doing. "Although I don't really have a choice, do I?" He muttered to himself, though the others overheard.

Jason chuckled. "Nope. Not really. You're stuck with the demon forever. Don't have too much fun with him."

"Shut up, Jason. No one asked your opinion in the matter."

Jason shrugged. "You didn't specify who you were asking, so I took the opportunity before I could miss it. And I am so glad I did."

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Damian. "Could you act anymore like children? How do you even survive the real world?"

Jason whirled to face him, eyebrows creased in slight anger. "Demon, I know how to survive in the real world just fine. Do you remember where I grew up?"

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms even more. "And where did that get you? Into a Lazarus pit for my mother, that's where. Even the great Batman couldn't save you from her." The sarcasm was plain in his voice as he turned away from everyone and faced the wall. Even Tim looked up from his bags and looked at him in concern.

Jason stood still, not knowing what to say. It was rare for Damian to bring up his mother, extremely rare nowadays. Jason knew that he had been thrown into the Pit by one of the Al Ghuls; he just hadn't known which one. Until now. Jason also knew that Damian despised his mother, probably because she was the one who sent Heretic to kill him, and succeeded. Not to mention all the stuff before that; training him to kill, probably harshly, raising him to rule the world with his grandfather before he was even ten years old?

And then sending him to his father, where he eventually found the right side to live by, the opposite of everything he was raised to believe? Justice, not vengeance. He couldn't imagine how hard that must be for such a young boy. And then having his own mother willingly kill him in cold blood because of a decision he'd made to stay with his father? That's just beyond cruel, much more so than Jason's life ever was, even after his death.

As Jason looked at his younger brother and remembered the hardships they had both been through, he remembered that Damian was the way he was because of his mother. And that wasn't his fault.

He kept silent, not knowing what he was supposed to say to Damian after his statement. After a long pause, Dick broke the silence by clapping his hands together. "Okay!" He exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Tim, what do you have in those bags?"

Tim looked at him, distracted, then at the bags on the floor in front of him. "Oh, um, there's bottled water, apple and orange juice, some snacks from the vending machine downstairs, and some new clothes to replace our dirty ones."

Damian turned his head to face his brothers when they spoke. He was a little hungry, but he didn't think he would be able to eat anything because of his wound. Two inches was pretty deep. He caught the clothes his brother threw at him and changed into them, closing the curtain around his bed.

He wondered again what had hit the window to cause it to shatter. He knew that it was big and dark colored, black probably. But he had no idea what shape it was, or how it had hit the window of a fast-moving vehicle.

He moved the curtain back just as the door opened, breaking his train of thought as a man entered the room. The man was tall, with skin so pale it was almost translucent. He had no facial hair, just a black buzz cut like he had just gotten out of the military. He was wearing a white lab coat with no name tag, and there was an unusually shaped bulge in one of his pockets. He closed the door behind him, and Damian heard the distinct click of the lock engaging.

Without taking his eyes off the man, Damian slowly reached for the nurse's emergency call button beside him. With no weapons at their disposal, the button was their only chance of getting out of this alive.

"Hello," the man said calmly. His voice was lower than Damian had expected, almost baritone but not quite. "I am Dr. Calico. I am Damian's doctor during his stay at the hospital."

Dick frowned and took a step back from the man, Calico, and towards Damian, shielding him from view. He had seen what Damian was trying to do and was trying to buy him time. "No, you're not. Damian's doctor is doing surgery on another patient right now. He told me himself right before he started operating."

Jason moved closer Damian as well, responding to the signal Dick sent him. He confronted Calico, venom laced in every syllable of his words. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

Calico looked offended. "I already told you! My name is Calico and I'm Damian's doctor! I just needed to perform a check up and see how he's doing. That's all."

"Then why did you lock the door?" Tim asked, standing to join his brothers at Damian's bedside, further shielding him from view. Damian only had a few inches left to go when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked back. Damian blinked in surprise and froze at the gun that had seemingly just appeared in the man's hand, aimed at Dick's head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Damian," the man chuckled darkly. "Otherwise I might just have to add some art to the walls. I always liked the color red. You?"

Damian scowled angrily and pulled his hand away from the button next to him. He wouldn't risk his brother's life just to press a button. "No," he growled.

Calico only smiled. "That's quite alright, young man. You don't have to like the color red. Just me." He looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist and frowned. "Oh, deary me, we're running out of time. I must speed this up a little."

There was a flicker of movement, a gunshot, and then Dick was on the floor, soon followed by a scream from Damian. "Dick!" He sat up, ignoring the pain it caused, and by the warm liquid flowing down his stomach, he assumed his stitches had popped. He also ignored the blood that splattered onto his face and body from the gunshot. "No!"

Then there were two more shots, and Tim and Jason fell to the floor next to their brother, more blood splattering across Damian and the walls. He screamed again, the sound tearing at his vocal chords until they were raw, his ears ringing like mad, vision blurred by tears. He didn't even notice Calico walking over to him until he was a foot away. He had a syringe in his hand.

He remembered the nurse's button and lunged for it just as the man plunged the needle into his neck. Damian was able to press the button before the drug took affect, and he still managed to turn and lunge at the man with all of his remaining strength, dropping the button in the process, another agonized scream tearing itself from his throat.

But Calico easily caught him and yanked his arms behind his back, tying them while Damian fought and struggled for all he was worth, his screams turning into crazed, angry, animalistic growls as Calico gagged him. Then the drug took full affect, and Damian saw darkness creeping around the edges of his vision, closing in fast.

Calico turned Damian around so he could see his brothers lying on the floor, their blood mixing together to make one large puddle. His growls turned to whimpers and he stopped struggling, feeling tears flow down his cheeks. He heard Calico whisper into his ear as he finally let the darkness take him.

"I knew the color red would look good on them."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow was waiting on the corner of the block a street away from the hospital. Calico should've been here five minutes ago. What was taking him so long? He didn't get caught up playing another one of his games, did he? If he did, he was going to kill him when he got back. Shadow was about to leave when a car pulled up. It was a black Pontiac with tinted windows. The front passenger window rolled down and Calico poked his head through, smiling like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"I got the package, boss. He's in the back." He said cheerfully, jerking his thumb towards the backseat.

Shadow opened the car door and got in, looking at the tied up boy in the backseat, his waist painted red with blood. Shadow turned to Calico, basically Orlando's version of the Joker, just without all the major killing sprees. "What did you do to him? I need him alive, Calico."

The other man looked back and frowned. "I didn't do anything to him. He did that to himself. Right after I shot his brothers." He grinned maliciously and started up the car, driving away from the curb. "Where to, boss?"

"Pier Nine. Stop at Dock Four, Warehouse Three."

Calico's grin widened. "Ooh, a warehouse! So much fun stuff you can do in a warehouse if you're batshit crazy! Which, of course, I am. Nice choice, boss."

By the time they had made it to the warehouse, the sun was setting over the water. Calico stopped the car in front of the appointed warehouse and looked at Shadow. "So, why'd you want the boy, boss? You doin' a job for someone or something?"

Shadow ignored the question as he got out of the car and went to open the back door and lift the boy out, gesturing for Calico to leave. He carried him into the warehouse and threw him onto a mattress he found in the corner of the room.

Shadow looked at the kid, wondering why his boss wanted him so bad. He was just a normal looking ten year old, with black hair and tanned skin. He was wearing denim jeans and a green T-shirt, now stained a reddish brown color from blood. He had his hand tied behind his back and was gagged.

What stood out most about the boy, though, were the tear tracks on his cheeks and a mark on his right shoulder. Shadow took a closer look to make sure he wasn't seeing things. It was the League of Assassins symbol, branded onto the boy's shoulder. Shadow looked at him in shock. What kind of ten year old boy got involved with assassins?

Shadow shook his head, reminding himself that it wasn't any of his business to know. But he couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid as he undid his bonds and put his wrists in the manacles connected to the wall. They lifted him just enough so his toes were barely brushing the floor. Shadow's gaze shifted to the boy's stomach and he grimaced at all the red he saw.

He lifted his shirt up and tore away the bandages to see the wound. There were eight popped stitches covering a large gash right above his belly button. Shadow's nose wrinkled at the irony smell of the boy's blood. He grabbed a first aid kit and restitched the wound so he wouldn't bleed out to death. His boss wanted the kid alive, after all.

Shadow looked at the boy's shoulder one last time as he finished, not bothering to bandage the wound knowing his stitches would hold just fine without them, letting the boy's bloody shirt cover the wound once more.

The brand on the boy's shoulder worried him, though. Shadow knew what the brand meant. It was their way of saying that you belonged to them. You were their property to be toyed with however they liked. But the brand was only meant for those in their inner circle, the most important assassins. Only Ra's al Ghul, his daughter, Thalia, and a few select others that he knew about had this mark.

So what was a ten year old boy doing with this mark on his shoulder?

His thoughts were interrupted by a groan. The boy was starting to wake up. He watched as he blinked and looked around blearily, trying to remember where he was. When he saw Shadow, he scowled. "Where am I, and who are you?"

"Who I am is none of your concern at the moment, boy. What I want to know is how you got that mark on your shoulder." Shadow said, jutting his chin at the mark. The boy froze, looking at the brand.

"That is none of your concern, imbecile. I won't repeat myself again. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

Shadow sighed. "Kid, do you know what that symbol stands for?" He insisted, ignoring the question. "Do you know how dangerous they are? How did you even get that?"

The boy sighed, seemingly frustrated and annoyed by all the questions. "I am not going to tell you anything, so quit asking."

Shadow sighed also, but in resignation, not annoyance. "Fine. What's your name, kid?" The boy raised an eyebrow. "If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine." Shadow bargained.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Shadow scoffed. "Of course you can trust me! What do you think I am, a criminal?"

"That's exactly what I think you are."

"What! Why would you think such a thing? I am thoroughly wounded." Shadow said dramatically, throwing a hand over his eyes.

The boy only rolled his. "You chained me to a wall," he said angrily. Shadow peeked through his fingers and looked at him.

"Oh, I suppose I did, didn't I?" He muttered to himself. He clapped his hands together and stood up, walking over to the boy dangling in chains on the wall. "Oh well! At least you get to hang out with someone cool while we wait for my boss to pick you up. Oh, I'm Shadow, by the way. What's your name?"

The boy hesitated for a few seconds. "Damian," he said reluctantly, glaring up at Shadow. "What does your boss want with me, Shadow? And how long do I have to wait to meet him?"

"Damian. That's a nice name." Shadow shrugged. "I have no idea what he wants with you, Dami. Can I call you that?" He went on before he could answer. "I only know that my boss wants you alive and that he'll come get you in a couple of days."

"Who is your boss, Shadow, and why not come for me himself?"

Shadow shrugged again. "You can ask him when you see him, Damian. I didn't bother asking what wasn't my business to know. I didn't even want the job."

"If you didn't want to abduct me, then why are you involved in the first place?"

Shadow rubbed the back of his neck ashamedly. "I needed the money. Now stop asking questions. I want to know more about you." Shadow said, sitting down in a chair. He leaned forward, whispering like he was sharing a secret with him. "I heard you got brothers."

Damian narrowed his eyes at Shadow, wondering what game he was playing by bringing up his most-likely dead brothers. He teared up at the thought, but he held them back, not wanting to seem weak in front of the enemy. Unfortunately, one managed to slip through his defences before he could stop it, and Shadow saw. The man's eyes widened, and he looked at all the blood covering the boy's face and body, realizing who it must belong to. "Kid, there's no need to hide your tears from me. I've already seen the tear streaks on your cheeks. Are they the reason for them? Did they hurt you, Damian?"

Damian glared at him, anger the only emotion visible in his features. "No, of course not! My brothers would never do such a thing! They would never hurt me! Who do you think you are?"

Shadow put his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, Damian. I meant nothing by it. I guess my cop side is getting the best of me again."

Damian only huffed at his words. "You're a cop?" He asked.

Shadow chuckled. "Used to be. I was one of the best in the force, my captain told me. Then I got caught up in some bad business and I lost my badge. My wife divorced me and took full custody of my three kids. But that's in the past. This is now. I guess old habits die hard, right? Anyways, if your brothers weren't the reason you were crying, then what was?"

There was a short silence as Damian looked at the ground, not answering the question at first.

"They're gone," Damian finally said emotionlessly, looking Shadow in the eye as more tears streamed down his face soundlessly, the young boy seemingly unaware of them. Shadow didn't have to guess who 'they' were.

"Because of a man named Calico." Damian continued before Shadow could get a word in. His face turned dark, and he looked ready to kill someone, his next words confirming it, tone deadly and colder than ice.

"I'll kill him if I ever see him again, I know I will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys!

I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update, guys. It's just that life is seriously slowly killing me on the inside, and I haven't felt like updating. Not to mention that my mom took my phone away for a couple of days, too. But, anyways, here's your update. And don't hound me for the next time I'll update as soon as your done reading it, okay guys? Really don't need the extra pressure right now. And its kind of annoying, too.

But oml, as I was writing this, Shadow kept reminding me of Dick, you know, if he were evil and all. It kinda freaked me out! And I also realized that I've practically killed off all of the good guys in this story! Holy crap, I just scared myself writing this chapter.

But, hey! I updated for the first time in, like, FOREVER so I hope you enjoyed, and I would love to see your comments!

BYE :)