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“Hey Little D!”
“Don’t call me that, Grayson,” Damian uttered.
Drake continued, “Damian Wayne, From Unknown to Local Celebrity, by the Gotham Gazette.” Another gossip rag, of course. “They say here that you’ve been the latest to achieve fortune at the hands of beloved billionaire Brucie Wayne.”
It was the fourth time this week now. It was Tuesday. He was dismayed at the idiocy of Gothamites; how quick they all seem to be to categorise him as ‘helpless’ and a ‘charity case’ was truly frustrating. He was the blood son! Not to mention that Timothy, loathe he admit it, was hardly unfortunate in the public eye before he was adopted.
“Beautiful alliteration,” Jason whistled as he walked in, to make fun of him no doubt, “this one is my favourite, listen to this: “The Cycle continues - capitalised too, hah! - what trauma lies behind the youngest Wayne.”
Make that the fifth time this week.
“Stop making fun of your brother,” Bruce muttered, reaching for Timothy’s coffee cup.
“Father.”
“Damian.”
He paused, attempting to order his thoughts. How was he to make the gossip rags stop, was the question. It wouldn’t do to simply make a public statement - it would considered an obvious cover-up, an attempt to dispel any further rumours at the source. Not entirely successful at actually stopping further discourse on social media sites, for instance.
Ignoring the articles would hardly work either. The number that Dick and Todd had left to air out simply grew beyond their control, forming even more rumours with even less basis. Not that that stopped anyone; apparently daydreaming about the Lost Wayne Heir and his mysterious return was popular amongst local youth? Todd was hardly worthy of such anyway, and Grayson with his flaunting even less so, but Damian digresses.
No. He needs something of a showstopper; something to prove that he’s not like them. Them, of course, referring to his brothers whom he privately admires for their various talents, not that he would ever inform them of such. Timothy certainly doesn't need his ego raised - if he thought Damian believed in him? The things Drake could do with the slightest motivation was frightening at times, and at worse, well, he could probably rule the world one day. Grayson and Todd do it enough for themselves - contrastingly their levels of self-importance was far to high at times.
“Nevermind.”
“I require your assistance, Timothy.”
It had taken a few days for Damian to develop his plan to prove the tabloids wrong, and there had been 6 further articles released in the following four days. Why they had this sudden interest in his past he had no idea, but that was unimportant now. The final preparatory element unfortunately required assistance and Drake was the least likely to pry, even if it did mean that Cain and Brown would find out. They would likely be too intrigued to ruin the whole ordeal.
Tim looked up, “Yes, little brother,” he teased, “anything for his Highness.”
Perfect.
It had been a long time since Damian had walked these walls. Not since his Mother had decided to send him away. Not since his Grandfather had developed an even deeper and creeper interest than his Father in his brother. Not since before he was Robin.
“I understand why you are here, Little Prince, I hope the journey went well.”
“As well as it could have considering I was coming here, Grandfather.”
“Yes, well,” Ra’s al Ghul, the Demon Head himself had decided to greet him, “Just stay away from the pits. And the training area. And -”
“Yes, I understand Grandfather, all the confidential areas - I am not an amateur.” Damian dismissed him, he had no time to waste, especially not on his Grandfather, immortal being he may be.
The final stage of his plan was about to commence!
“It has come to my attention that many of you fools have fallen for the misconception that I was somehow underprivileged before I came into my father’s care.” Damian began, after some time to allow people to join the livestream, as Drake had instructed.
“Despite many public appearances in which I have clearly stated otherwise after continuous questioning, you all seem to adopt a hive-mind-like mentality in which you refuse to change your minds until counter evidence slaps you in the face.” He scowled, staring at the camera, before flipping it around to show his surroundings. “So, I have decided to do so metaphorically. Welcome to Nanda Parbat - my childhood home.”
“Where is your brother?” Bruce asked as he walked into the BatCave.
“Don’t tell me you lost another Robin, B!” Jason exclaimed.
“He’s at Nanda Parbat,” said Tim.
“What.”
“What do you mean he’s at Nanda Parbat, Tim.” Dick interjected.
“What.” Bruce repeated, tonelessly.
“Yeah, he’s doing a house tour.”
“What.”
“No way really,” Jason joined Tim at the monitor displaying his civilian Instagram feed, “Ah, the memories.”
“When did he get there? How didn’t we notice him leaving? How long has this been going on? What the fuck Tim?”
“Language, Dick.” said Bruce.
“Now he talks!”
“What do you mean Damian is doing a house tour of Nanda Parbat?”
“Something about proving people wrong? I don’t know, he didn’t say much. I only realised once he sent me a streak on snap today and his location was in fuck-where Pakistan.” Tim replied.
“He does streaks?” Jason asked, very relevantly.
“I know right! I’m so proud.”
“I raised that kid and he doesn’t ever snap back!”
“I don’t know man, I kinda just annoyed him into doing it with me.”
“What.”
“Ah right, come sit down, it’s been hilarious so far. The people in the comments are going insane right now!”
“It may shock you all to believe this, but once upon a time this was my inheritance. I crawled on these floors. I chewed on that golden cup as a toddler. I learned to walk on those Persian carpets.” Damian, hand holding his phone steady continued onwards through the Palace, occasionally raising his free arm to point at things as he spoke of them, but remaining mostly out of the camera’s view.
“‘Why the past tense?’ An astute observation, Theresa Giles,” he responded to the comment, flipping the camera to himself once more, “That’s because it is no longer my inheritance.”
Damian stared directly into the camera: “In choosing to remain with my Father after the ‘trial period’ that my Grandfather allowed, I lost my title as Prince, and thereafter all of this that you have seen. I am not just the Wayne Heir, which many of you struggle to understand - I have not suddenly become more fortunate, nor did I struggle my way into the family. It is my birthright, just as the al Ghul legacy is, and the inheritance once was. If nothing else, I have become less privileged by the lack of privacy and respect that the general populace bestows upon us Waynes. As for all the American gossip rags - you can no longer do me the disservice of comparing my appearance in the family to that of my brother’s.”
“Not that it should have been equal regardless as I am the blood son,” he muttered finally, before cutting the stream.
“No fucking way.”
“Language, Jaylad.” Said Bruce, seemingly stupefied.
“Icon, like goddamn, that kid is a legend,” Steph, back from patrol, threw in her two cents.
“You spent your whole patrol on the live, didn’t you. I can see so many memes in his future.”
“So true, Timbit.”
“My baby, all grown. Planner extraordinaire of his own now.”
Dick’s phone began to ring, “Hey Babs, what’s up?” He put his phone on loudspeaker.
“Why has the Gotham Gazette written that Damien is quote: ‘Banned from the Billions’ - he hasn’t been disinherited. unless he has? Do I need to do some sort of damage control?” Barbara questioned.
Bruce stood in the centre of the room in stupor as the others dared a glance at one another before descending into laughter.
“It says, ‘Golden child cast out’...what the hell, I mean he’s still inheriting billions is he not…”