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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 17 days ago

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[UN] Fair — Chapter I, Prt 3: Burning Pile.

⸺ SINOPSIS ⦂ All things begin in fire, and end in fire.

✿⁠ ⸺ Platonic! Yandere! Batfam × Neglenced! Meta! Reader.

✿⁠ ⸺ Chapters Guide! ; Prologue ; Chapter I, Prt 1 ; Chapter I, Prt 2 ; Chapter I, Prt 3 ; Chapter II;

✿⁠ ⸺ Previous ; Next!

⸺ WARNINGS ⦂ Fem Reader ; Use of Y/N; Suicidal themes ; Suicide attempt ; Platonic Yandere ; Dead of a Character ; Detachment of a body part ; Gore (? ; English is not my first language.

✿⁠ ⸺ MDNI !! I'm serious.

✿⁠ ⸺ Words Count ⦂ 8.043

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ This chapter was mainly translated by Google Translate, so if something doesn’t make sense, you know who to blame.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Sorry for the wait on this chapter, these past weeks have been too much for me. After this, I think I'll take a break from social media

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ If you're wondering, the chapter title is based on the song Burning Pile by Mother Mother, so if you want to listen to it while reading the chapter, you're welcome to. I recommend listening to it more towards the end of the chapter.

The drive back to the mansion was steeped in an eerie silence. Both you and Damian were equally stunned by the day's events—which weren’t even over yet. The worst part was still ahead: facing your father.

You were doing your absolute best to hold back tears, panic building at the thought of confronting your father in yet another fit of anger. Then again, while the anxiety clung to you like a chain, you didn’t really have any tears left to shed. Most of them had already been spent during the fight with Damian.

A fight with a very peculiar ending.

Once again, your mind replayed what had happened just a few hours ago. Maybe because it still felt like unfinished business, leaving you with more questions than answers. Or maybe it was just an attempt to escape the horrible scenarios your imagination was crafting for when you’d finally arrive at the mansion. Maybe it was both.

The silence between you could easily be described as awkward—painfully awkward. But what you couldn't quite figure out was where you stood with Damian now. After your outburst, your confession, and his apology…

“I’m sorry…”

Something was supposed to change between you two after that, right? It felt like the fragile glass you'd both been pressing against had finally shattered under the weight of it all. The shards of what had happened still lingered in both your minds, leaving you unsure of how to start piecing things back together. Unsure of how to move forward.

Honestly, you weren’t surprised. Two emotionally stunted people like you and Damian couldn’t possibly know how to handle your relationship in a healthy way. You wouldn’t even know how to talk about everything that had happened without feeling deeply uncomfortable. Somehow, admitting all your vulnerability—the pain you’d felt from your family’s harsh treatment—felt more humiliating than when Damian used to call you cruel nicknames in front of everyone. Even more than failing a test and having the whole class find out about it.

The mind and emotions are strange things, you concluded.

Maybe that’s why Damian avoided them without even realizing it?

You didn’t know. And honestly, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

As you crossed the doorway, all your fears surged at once, spilling over as tears the moment you saw your father standing at the mansion’s entrance, furious.

“Before I start,” your father announced in his usual firm tone, “if anyone has something to say that should be taken into account, speak now.”

Both you and Damian stayed silent, heads bowed. You had no way to defend yourself. Sure, Damian had provoked you, but you were the one who started the fight. You were certain that was all anyone would care about.

Oh no, here came the tears again...

You gripped the sides of your uniform skirt tightly with both hands, unable to stop your body from trembling like a leaf in the wind.

What if your father finally decided to throw you out? Or worse—send you back to your mother?

“Y/N—”

“Actually, Father—” Damian interrupted, raising his voice slightly, something rare for him when speaking to Bruce. “I was the one who started the fight.”

You glanced at Damian out of the corner of your eye, careful not to let your father see your evident surprise.

“You’ll hear it from the teachers anyway, so I figured it’d be better if you heard it directly from me,” Damian explained vaguely, his tone carrying a slight edge of irritation (maybe because you were staring at him like he’d just grown a third eye—or who knows why).

Bruce stayed silent, his gaze shifting between the two of you as if searching for any sign of deceit.

“Y/N, go to your room. I need to speak with Damian.”

Bruce kept his eyes locked on Damian, who didn’t look up.

Hesitant, you decided it was better to obey and not risk angering your father further. You cast one last glance at Damian as you walked away, but he didn’t return it. Maybe he was too busy processing the implications of his recent actions to notice your look.

Once you reached your room, you decided to wait until tomorrow to write about everything in your diary.

For the next few days, Damian avoided you like the plague.

Sure, you were expecting some sort of change, but this? This caught you off guard. If you were being honest with yourself, though, you weren’t entirely sure what kind of change you had been hoping for.

Your days started to blur together again, shifting between school and the mansion. The only difference now was that your total number of interactions had dwindled to just one person—Alfred. Occasionally, it went up to two if you counted Jon’s visits to see Damian.

Like today.

You knew he was coming over to hang out with Damian, just like he did every other week. You were about to start baking with Alfred, so you were already dressed for the occasion. But that didn’t stop you from answering the door when the bell rang.

You greeted the Kryptonian with a smile and invited him in, once again losing yourself for a moment in those stunning blue eyes of his. After exchanging the usual greetings and catching up briefly, Jon hesitated before bringing up your party.

“Hey, about your birthday…” he started cautiously, clearly choosing his words carefully.

A part of you had wondered if he’d mention it, but when he did, a knot formed in your throat at the memory of your pathetic excuse for a birthday party. Honestly, you weren’t even sure it deserved to be called a party.

“Damian told me your party was canceled. Is that true?” Jon asked gently, clearly aware of Damian’s antics when it came to you. He was just trying to figure out if this was another one of them.

Not technically, no. But while it hadn’t been canceled, it wasn’t much of a party either…

Alfred had been the only one to show up besides you, so when Jon didn’t appear that day, you’d been confused at first. Now, you were grateful. You were certain you’d have broken down in tears if he’d looked at you with pity because no one else had shown up.

So, just this once, you decided to go along with Damian’s little lie.

“Yeah… it got canceled after all,” you said, lying through your teeth. Jon frowned sympathetically.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice soft. “Still, I wanted to give you this.”

From behind his back, he pulled out a colorful bag with a big ribbon on it. How had you not noticed it before? Were you that distracted by him?

Shaking off the thought, you accepted the gift with both hands, a puzzled expression plastered across your face.

It was the first gift you’d ever received from someone. Knowing someone thought enough of you to show their care in this way… it was overwhelming.

“It’s not the same as the other one, and I don’t mean it as a replacement,” Jon explained, his gaze fixed on the floor in embarrassment. As you opened the bag, he added, “I just thought… it might be a good listener for you…” He sounded so awkward, like he was overexplaining everything. God, he probably thought you’d see him as some kind of loser now.

But his thoughts were cut off when he noticed the droplets falling onto your worn-out shoes.

Jon watched intently as tears streamed down your face, your expression soft and filled with warmth as you gazed at the crocheted dinosaur plushie. Hugging it tightly to your chest, you buried your face against it. Despite everything, Jon thought you were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” you said, wiping your tears away with an embarrassed smile.

Before Jon could respond, you stepped closer and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his cheek.

Jon turned bright red—maybe even redder than you were. As much as you wanted to stay and talk with him, you’d been away too long already. Alfred would come looking for you soon, and you definitely didn’t want him finding you like this.

“I should get going…” you said, turning to leave. But Jon stopped you.

“Wait—um, I…” His mind seemed to be racing, scrambling to find the right words. “I think short hair really suits you—n-not that it didn’t before! It was cute then too, I mean, you’re cute—uh—what?”

You couldn’t help but find it utterly adorable. He was the sweetest boy you’d ever met.

“See you later, Jon,” you said, not even bothering to hide the massive smile spreading across your face.

You ran up to your room, placing your new gift carefully on your bed before heading back to the kitchen to join Alfred.

In the following days, you threw yourself entirely into working on your inventions. You needed something to take your mind off your miserable family situation. Sure, sometimes tinkering with your creations and brainstorming theories to improve them stressed you out, but it was worth it. At least it distracted you enough to forget about your family, even if only temporarily.

By now, you’d already completed your first gadgets using junk from the mansion’s shed, along with spare parts from discarded gadgets and old, obsolete vigilante suits.

Today, though, you weren’t working on anything fancy. You were focused on crafting a simple pocket watch for Alfred. It was Father’s Day, and just like every year, you wanted to give Alfred a gift to recognize and thank him for everything he did to take care of you.

Besides, making something for Alfred helped you avoid dwelling too much on your actual father, who was probably just a few rooms away in his office.

You couldn’t give him a Father’s Day gift. Not only because he’d rarely been present in your life, but also because you hadn’t been a part of his. You didn’t know what he liked or needed. He was the richest man in Gotham—probably in the world, you sometimes thought. Anything he wanted, he could get with the snap of his fingers.

The only thing you could offer him, something you figured he might actually appreciate, was a sincere apology for being born—

Done! The gift was finally ready!

You carefully wrapped it up and decorated the packaging before heading to the kitchen to give it to Alfred.

As you’d expected, Alfred was there, already preparing for lunch.

“What’s got you in such high spirits, Miss Y/N?” Alfred asked, taking note of how you were hiding your hands behind your back.

You didn’t answer and instead marched right up to him, standing just inches away.

“Close your eyes,” you requested with a playful tone.

Alfred raised an amused eyebrow but complied. Quickly, you pulled out the gift and held it up at eye level.

“Ta-da!” you said, signaling him to open his eyes.

Oh, it was Father’s Day—he’d completely forgotten. His eyes softened as he looked at you, touched by the gesture. With great care, he took the gift and opened it.

Inside was a gleaming pocket watch. It wasn’t luxurious, but it had a certain elegance, thanks to the hand-engraved details. You stood there, watching him expectantly.

“I got it from a second-hand store and tried to fix it up as best I could…” you said casually, not intending anything by it but wanting to show how much you cared.

“Where did you get the money?” Alfred asked curiously. As far as he knew, you didn’t receive an allowance like your siblings, nor did you have any other source of income.

“I sold a few things here and there,” you answered vaguely, not wanting him to think you’d gone through too much trouble or regret accepting the gift.

Most of the handmade toys you’d crafted had been sold off, leaving you with just a few. People seemed to like them, treating them as “abstract art.” It stung a little, but you got over it, knowing it was for Alfred. You’d also sewn a few pieces of clothing to sell, and those had been the first to go. People even praised your work when they found out you’d made them yourself.

More than ever, you felt proud of your creations.

“Oh, young miss…” Alfred murmured, clearly moved, before pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Happy Father’s Day,” you whispered against his neck.

Your stomach twisted with guilt, knowing you hadn’t told him about the tiny micro-communicator hidden inside the watch.

Your chemistry class ended as soon as the bell rang.

Your classmates, even the teacher, left without so much as acknowledging your presence. That had been the pattern for weeks now. The whispered comments, the rumors as you passed through the hallways—those had stopped. Now, people simply avoided you, excluding you whenever possible.

Home sweet home, you thought bitterly to yourself.

Still, in moments like this, being invisible had its advantages. Carefully, you opened the list of items you needed for your projects and began collecting them discreetly, always keeping an eye out in case someone approached.

Once you had everything, you returned to the lockers to stash what you'd taken before heading to your next class. To your surprise, you almost bumped into Molly on your way there. She froze for a moment when she saw you, then hurried out of the room without a word.

A little puzzled, you decided to brush off the fleeting encounter with your ex-best friend and stepped into the classroom.

A splash of red caught your eye, standing out sharply against the neutral tones of the room. Your attention was drawn to the small red bag resting on your unmistakable desk. Unmistakable, because it was the only desk carved with cruel messages about you.

Your eyes scanned over the deep engravings in the wood again.

"Slut." "Freak." "Zombie." "Monster." "Get out of my school." "Whore."

Every desk assigned to you in every class bore similar graffiti. It was one of the mildest things that had been done to you since the bullying began.

Although the harassment had seemingly stopped out of nowhere, the wounds it left behind were still fresh. Only something far worse could make you forget them, though you doubted anything could surpass the high bar set by your life’s endless cruelty.

Your fingers stopped tracing the carvings and instead focused on the bag. It looked more like a gift than a trap. Suspicious, you began to open it cautiously, in small intervals of about fifteen seconds each.

This wasn’t your first rodeo with pranks like this. Your classmates had left packages on your desk before, each containing something vile. The first time, they'd placed syringes inside a paper bag along with a lit firecracker hidden deep within. By the time you realized what it was, it was too late. The needles exploded outward, stabbing into your arm.

The classroom erupted in laughter as the bag detonated. But the laughter died just as quickly, drowned out by your screams of pain—or maybe it was the sight of your uniform darkening with blood where the needles had pierced your stomach.

Since then, they'd repeated variations of the same prank, swapping out needles and firecrackers for rotten fruits, crushed flower heads mixed with compost, or equally disgusting things.

This time, though, you weren’t taking any chances. Vines sprouted from your arms, carefully opening the package at a safe distance.

Inside, you saw a small, colorful box accompanied by a letter. Intrigued, you set the box aside and unfolded the letter.

"Dear Y/N,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate your first official birthday. I wanted to more than anything, but I couldn’t. If my family found out about us meeting, things would’ve gone from bad to worse for both my family and yours.

I’m still not allowed to see you, so for the sake of our feelings, it’s best we keep things as they are for now. Even so, I wanted to take this chance to apologize for everything that’s happened.

I’m sorry for not being there for you during all of this. For not being able to comfort you when those awful things were done to you. I’m sorry for letting them get away with it. Every time I tried to stand up for you or report them to the school, they retaliated by soaking my notes in water or leaving dead animals in my locker.

My parents know about it and told me not to report anything, because they’re sure it’ll only escalate. They even warned me to stop getting involved, saying they wouldn’t intervene if things got worse.

I feel awful thinking this, let alone saying it, but I’m too scared. I’m too much of a coward to put my ideals above my physical and emotional safety. I’m so sorry.

One day, when we can be friends again, I want to make it up to you. For now, please accept this gift as my congratulations and my sincerest wishes for your happiness on your first birthday.

And in case no one’s told you yet: I’m glad you were born, Y/N.

—Molly xoxo"

Tears blurred the ink on the page as they fell, but you didn’t care. This time, your tears meant something different.

"One day, when we can be friends again…"

You clutched the letter to your chest before turning your attention to the box.

Inside was a gold bracelet, shining brilliantly. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed the tiny charm engraved with your name.

With the utmost care, you fastened it around your right wrist, silently thanking Molly.

Back at home, you decided to put the tears behind you and went on a frantic search for Alfred. You found him in the sitting room, diligently dusting the furniture.

“Alfred, look!” you said, showing off the bracelet Molly had given you with pride shining in your eyes.

The butler inspected it briefly before smiling and nodding in approval. “A lovely piece of jewelry, Miss. Might I ask who gifted it to you?”

Before you could answer, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed from the entrance. Jason stormed past the kitchen, his steps heavy and filled with irritation. He was clearly on his way to the Batcave, his frustration emanating in waves.

But then he saw you.

Maybe it was his recent failure with Ivy, or the ridiculous speculations about you and a possible connection to your mother, or perhaps just the miserable week he’d had—but something snapped in Jason when he caught sight of you from the corner of his eye.

Without much thought, his anger redirected. He turned sharply and strode into the kitchen, his face dark with frustration.

“Your mother’s a total bitch, you know that, right?” he spat suddenly, his words slicing through the air and leaving you stunned and confused.

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to fully register. But as they sank in, indignation and fury surged within you.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you in years. Not a glance, not even the smallest acknowledgment since your first meeting. And now, the only reason he addressed you was to insult your mother? It was like reliving the bullying at school all over again, but worse.

You swallowed your emotions, refusing to let them explode outward. “…Don’t talk about her like that,” you managed to murmur, your voice taut with restraint.

Jason’s expression only darkened further at your response. Alfred’s calm attempts to defuse the tension went completely ignored.

“Oh, so you’re defending her? How the hell can you defend her after everything she’s done?” Jason’s voice was sharp, almost accusatory.

You pressed your lips together, the frustration of being judged without a chance to explain building in your chest like a storm.

“You wouldn’t understand…” you muttered, almost to yourself.

“Understand what?!” Jason demanded, his voice louder now, brimming with impatience.

“You wouldn’t understand because you don’t know what it’s like to feel a mother’s love!” you shouted back, your control snapping as your emotions overwhelmed you. “Yours was just a drug addict, and it’s a miracle she didn’t sell you off to feed her addiction! What makes you think my mom is worse than yours?!”

The room fell silent for a fraction of a second.

Then Jason’s hand struck your cheek.

The slap was hard and sudden, and you staggered slightly from the force of it. Your hand instinctively went to your stinging cheek, your mind reeling.

For a moment, you just stood there, disoriented and heartbroken. And then, without another word, you turned and ran.

You ignored Alfred’s worried calls as you sprinted up the stairs, your heart hammering in your chest, and slammed the door of your room behind you.

You removed the fluorescent green liquid from in front of the camera, not putting much thought into what it might mean down the line.

"Honestly, I’m too tired to keep this up," you began, speaking again after taking a moment to organize your thoughts. "Not only does it feel pointless, but I’m starting to think that doing all of this for them isn’t worth it."

A fleeting memory of Jason and the slap crossed your mind, uninvited.

You let out a long, drawn-out sigh, setting your tools and gadgets aside as a sudden need for space overwhelmed you.

For a moment, you stared at your reflection in the camera’s lens. You saw yourself—tired, worn out—and only you truly knew how deeply the exhaustion ran.

You wondered if any of this would ever truly be worth it. Even if your efforts bore the results you were hoping for, would it be enough to make up for the years of loneliness and pain they had caused? Would you really feel satisfied once you reached the goal you had been working so hard for? A goal no child should ever have to chase in the first place, especially if they were given even the bare minimum of care...

Then, for the first time, you saw yourself differently.

A new version of you.

One that had started to accept parts of their reality, someone who had begun to see beyond the singular focus of their goals.

Still, you wouldn’t know if your assumptions were correct until they were put to the test. A good scientist doesn’t settle for just the hypothesis, after all.

"... After today," you said softly, your voice steadier now, "I think my goals are going to start changing, no matter the outcome."

You took a long, grounding breath.

"This will be my last attempt to be a part of this family."

You had finished your projects for the night, having double-checked them over and over again to ensure everything was working as planned. You knew they were functioning perfectly—there was proof of that. But you told yourself that a second opinion, especially from someone with more knowledge than yours, could be really helpful.

So, your thoughts led you to Tim's room, ready to share your greatest efforts from the last six months.

After knocking on his door and getting no response, you decided to take matters into your own hands and walk in anyway. As expected, Tim was there, but he didn’t look like himself. If before he had resembled a tired raccoon, now you were certain his dark circles had dark circles of their own. Still, he seemed to be working diligently on whatever it was he was doing.

You cleared your throat to announce your presence, but he already knew you were there. The shadow he cast was too small to belong to any of the older members of the family, which meant it had to be you or Damian. And, right now, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of you.

"Tim, could you check something I made? I promise it’ll only take a minute…" you asked, your tone a little pleading.

"I don’t have time, Y/N. I’m working on something important," he quickly replied, not even glancing at you.

A pout formed on your face, but you decided to push. This was important too. You grabbed one of his arms, pulling gently.

"Please, it won’t take more than five minutes. Come on, it’s really good—"

A loud crash interrupted you as one of your devices fell from your hands and onto Tim's desk. He snapped his head towards you, eyes flashing with anger.

"Five minutes? It'll take two," he said with a warning tone that made you feel uneasy.

Before you could react, he snatched your device from your hands without asking. To get it back would mean knocking the others to the ground, which would lead to an even worse situation because of a new formula you had created. You were stuck.

To your horror, Tim began tearing apart your tool with nothing but brute force, muttering things like, "This is useless," "Won’t work," and, "Oh, this? Hm, it's outdated. Won’t help."

"Tim, stop! Please!" you shouted, desperately.

But it was too late. Your months of hard work—nights of sleepless effort, searching through the shed’s garbage, and hours spent in the library—were now unrecognizable. Tim finished by tossing the wreckage into a corner near the door.

"Don’t bother me with junk again, Y/N. And don’t enter my room without permission," he said, returning to his work without a second thought.

Tears streamed down your face as you ran to gather what was left of your painstaking work. You found it destroyed, barely salvageable, and you knew it could never be the same again in such a short time.

"YOU’RE EVIL!" you screamed at Tim, accusingly, before running to your room, crying.

With your vision blurred by tears, you tried to fix the mess he had left behind. Nothing ever changed for you. It was now or never for you to be part of this family. Tim was wrong if he thought something like this would break your spirit.

“I’m on my way. Is anyone in the area?” From the dark, authoritative tone you heard, you could tell it was Batman speaking.

“Spoiler and I can’t see anyone from here.” Though still distorted, you recognized Tim’s voice. “Agent A, what do you see?”

“The security cameras show several of Bane’s henchmen guarding the area. Bane is at the center of it all with the new serum formula. I don’t see any signs of a potential buyer.”

You heard Alfred’s voice more clearly, which wasn’t surprising, considering the mic was hidden in the wristwatch.

You quickly checked the few belongings you had with you at the moment. Your gadgets, a map, Dinno, and a mini-teaser you’d made yourself. You packed everything into your backpack and tightened the straps across your back.

You took a deep breath to calm your racing heart. You felt the nerves and anxiety rising, but you pushed it all to the back of your mind.

Don’t overthink it, you told yourself. You gathered your resolve and transformed your arms into a swarm of vines, wrapping them around the most obvious cameras at the mansion before swinging through the trees.

You passed the mansion’s gates and made your way to the location where your family’s mission was going down. Every now and then, you checked the map, verifying your position while staying in the shadows.

By the time you arrived, a full-on fight had already broken out. You were surprised to see your entire family fighting and throwing punches everywhere, but your focus zeroed in on your father, who was going toe-to-toe with Bane.

You stayed on the sidelines, watching the situation unfold from a distance. You kept telling yourself everything was going to be fine this time. Your family had the upper hand, so there was nothing to worry about.

But your fears resurfaced when that balance didn’t last long. In a desperate move, Bane injected himself with his own supply, and the henchmen who weren’t unconscious followed suit.

Unlike his original formula, Bane’s muscles didn’t increase in size, but you could see how the serum spread rapidly throughout his circulatory system. His veins started to bulge beneath his skin, taking on an unnatural, fluorescent green glow.

His henchmen didn’t take long to show similar effects. And that’s when things spiraled out of control.

Although their muscles didn’t grow visibly, like with the original serum, it was clear they were far stronger than before. To your untrained eyes, it felt like their strength could rival Superman’s.

Your brothers, though skilled, couldn’t match the sheer number of super-powered foes Bane had on his side.

It was time to intervene, or things would get worse for your family. From the shadows, you began to entangle the henchmen who didn’t have anyone to fight.

At one point, things became a blur, and you didn’t know how to help anymore, but you still wanted to be useful.

You wrapped your vines around loose platforms, taking a few steps back to gather momentum. Fortunately, you shot yourself toward the building’s upper windows without issue.

You returned your arms to normal and started getting a clearer view of the situation. You noted everyone’s positions.

Robin and Nightwing were fighting together on the building’s southeast side. Spoiler and Orphan were on the opposite side, too close to you (you made a mental note to be more careful and not let Cassandra spot you, at least not during the fight). Batman-B and Red Hood were on opposite corners of the building, at mid-level height.

Finally, Batman and Red Robin were at the heart of the battle, trying to take down Bane and secure the new serum supplies. The three of them were on the top floor, but just a bit lower than your position.

You began to pull out your most sophisticated gadget from your bag: a spore bomb, still alive. It wasn’t lethal, but it had the ability to knock someone out for days, depending on your mood.

These spores were special— they weren’t made from any particular plant, but from you. That gave you the ability to control their use however you wanted.

You placed the box containing them high up on a pillar where it wouldn’t be easily reached.

Ploc.

You froze when you heard an odd sound. You went silent, instinctively holding your breath, trying to listen for any similar noises.

Ploc.

You whipped your head around in an instant. This time, it came from the opposite side.

You began preparing your spikes.

Squinting, you tried to make out what was hiding in the darkness. You were sure that if you focused hard enough, you could spot a blurry silhouette…

Suddenly, it vanished.

“What-?”

Without warning, hands grabbed you from behind. A much larger, male arm wrapped around your body, and another hand covered your mouth, silencing you.

You struggled and fought, but the stranger didn’t flinch. With no other option, your spikes shot out from your back, piercing the intruder.

You spun around to face your attacker, but you were shocked to find him completely dressed in black, most of his head covered, leaving only his eyes exposed.

The next moments happened too fast for you to process. You were about to scream for help or alert everyone about this new presence, but before you could open your mouth…

You watched in horror as your right arm was severed from your body, completely detached.

Your vision fixated on your severed limb, not noticing a second figure removing their weapon to replace it.

Blood started pouring from your arm. You wanted to scream, to cry, but your cries were drowned out by the explosion of a bomb going off nearby, shaking the surroundings.

The last thing you remember was someone picking you up in their arms and carrying you away before everything went black.

The fight had gotten worse since Bane injected himself with his new serum. Red Robin was starting to wear down, and he’d never admit it, but even Batman was beginning to feel the strain.

He quickly scanned the area. It was reassuring to see that most of his family was finishing up their tasks, mostly safe and sound.

He had a feeling the fight wouldn’t last much longer.

But there were still a lot of loose ends to tie up. They still didn’t know who Bane’s mysterious buyer was. And they had no idea how he’d managed to improve the serum’s components in such a short amount of time.

Batman could already see a lot of long nights ahead, trying to figure out the mysteries of this case.

But something unusual caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A black silhouette, but one too small to be an adult, or even a teenager.

Robin? No, he was with Nightwing right now. And his other kids were in his line of sight, so then who…?

“Batman!” Red Robin’s panicked tone snapped him back to reality.

And then he understood why. Bane had ingested nearly all of his new formula, and he kept ranting that he didn’t care anymore, that he was taking the Bat to the grave with him.

Batman and Red Robin took a few steps back from him, anticipating the effects of such an unstable serum.

Under Batman’s watchful eye, Bane couldn’t even take his first step before his face twisted into an expression of confusion, followed by one of intense pain.

A gut-wrenching scream echoed through the warehouse, and Batman watched as the serum began to take its toll. Suddenly, Bane’s muscles became too much for his skin to handle, and it began to tear apart like a doll being pulled in two by wild wolves.

Before he could recover from the grotesque sight, an explosion rocked the area, blowing apart one of the building’s pillars. Soon, the entire structure started collapsing.

A piece of the ceiling detached, and Batman’s heart raced as he realized it was about to crash onto the stunned Red Robin. With all his strength, he pushed his son out of the way, but in doing so, he ended up trapped beneath the debris.

“Batman!” Red Robin yelled in alarm, rushing to help immediately. He strained to move the largest pieces of rubble off his father’s body, and Batman tried to help, but his limbs were completely immobile, except for the arm he had used to push Tim.

Batman snapped out of his shock and started looking beyond his position, desperately searching for the rest of his children.

His breath returned when he spotted most of them struggling to get out of the building, some lifting unconscious bodies between two people. Among those helping, he was shocked to see Talia lending a hand.

But his relief was short-lived when he heard a second bomb go off, and this time, it was much worse than the first. The building and debris were sent flying, engulfed in flames.

Time seemed to slow down for him. As if everything had been perfectly choreographed for a movie.

He didn’t have time to warn them about the incoming debris, coming at a breakneck speed, dangerously close—

Boom!

“Tim!”

Bruce Wayne, not Batman, let out a heart-wrenching scream as his son’s blood splattered across his face. Where Red Robin’s left eye should have been, there was now a gaping hole that passed all the way through his head.

Batman tried to get out with all his strength, but despite the desperation and adrenaline coursing through his body, he couldn’t free himself from the debris that trapped him.

Through the smoke and rubble, he spotted a bottle with a greenish, opaque liquid, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. Without a second thought, he drank every last drop of the concoction.

The effects were immediate. He felt rejuvenated, his strength increasing like never before. With speed that even Flash would envy, he freed himself from the debris and scooped his unconscious son into his arms, carrying him out of the wreckage.

He was going to be fine. Tim was going to be fine. He’s just unconscious from the pain. It’s okay, it’s okay. He’ll recover. He’s definitely not dead.

Your mind still ached and spun as you regained consciousness. The first thing you noticed was the unbearable pain in your right arm, or more accurately, the absence of it, and you couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face.

You pressed hard against the wound, as if that could ease the pain.

The second thing you noticed was the overwhelming smell of burning, of something being set on fire. That was undoubtedly what made you dizzy, or maybe it was the blood loss?

Perhaps it was both.

And the third thing that caught your attention was realizing the entire building was engulfed in flames, down to its very foundation.

Your last thought was: My family.

Struggling, you got up as best as you could, completely ignoring how you’d ended up there in the first place, or the loss of your left eye.

You began searching the area for your family, but all you found were the lifeless bodies of Bane's goons scattered about.

Finally, you heard sounds resembling sobbing, and you moved toward them, getting closer until you found a narrow alley lit only by distant flames.

There they were—your family, all gathered and staring at one point in unison. You glanced around for a moment, making sure they weren’t paying attention to the burning building, the goons fleeing, or anything else.

On the other hand, you found your backpack lying a few feet away from you, covered in dirt and debris, but without thinking much about it, you opened it to check its contents.

You were relieved to find Dino still inside, along with most of your things—and—

"My bomb...?" You were strangely puzzled to find your device there. You took it out of your bag and exposed it to the light, confirming that it was indeed the same one you’d placed on the building’s pillar not long ago (or was it hours ago?).

But you didn’t realize your words had caught the attention of most of the people there. Especially Batman.

Your nerves began to tingle when the great bat started walking toward you, and not in a friendly manner...

“Dad...?” you murmured, confused, unaware that you weren’t supposed to know his secret...

“What did you do?” he asked in a tone that suggested he was holding back a fury greater than the surprise of seeing you here.

You didn’t know how to respond. Something told you he wasn’t referring to the tied-up goons or anything like that... So, what was he referring to?

When you sought your siblings’ gazes for help, you understood the gravity of the situation.

“Tim...?”

Why was part of Tim’s face missing? Why was he unconscious? Why were your siblings crying?!

A quick glance revealed that your father was also crying beneath his mask.

Your breath quickened. He couldn’t... Tim couldn’t...

Did you do this?

Your mind was too chaotic to tell if your father had asked the question or if it was just your thoughts.

You took a few steps toward Tim—he couldn’t... His pulse... If you could just check his pulse then...

Suddenly, you were thrown across the alley, crashing into the rubble.

“Stay away from him!” Stephanie growled, the one who had thrown you.

At that moment, you realized the stares your family was giving you—some more severe than others, but none showing any sign of giving you the benefit of the doubt.

What if you had really done it?

Had you killed another one of your brothers? Again?

But...?

“What were you doing here?” Nightwing asked.

You wanted to help, you wanted to answer, but the words never left your thoughts.

You were still worried about Tim, about the recent events, and your nerves were a swarm of every emotion you felt. Looking again at Tim’s colorless body, you began to shake, stuttering over your words, unable to murmur anything coherent.

The stares grew more severe, even angry, like with Steph and Dick...

You began crying uncontrollably.

“I won’t ask again. What did you do?!” Batman warned, grinding his teeth as he walked toward you, grabbing the collar of your shirt.

You wanted to explain everything. The bomb was made of spores, which were flammable, and it hadn’t been activated... Your other things hadn’t been used, or that’s what you wanted to believe, but even if they were, none of them were lethal to anyone’s life.

But how could you make your nervous system understand that if you didn’t respond correctly, they’d do something worse to you than to Tim? How could you make yourself calm down before they got the wrong idea?

Too late.

“The bomb... I... No... Not activated... I don’t know...” Your anxiety grew, and your heart beat so fast you thought it might stop at any moment.

Batman slammed you against the wall and squeezed your neck, cutting off your air. You were sure he was going to kill you.

You kicked and struggled against his hold, scratching at his hands and arms with your one remaining arm.

Your mind could only think of how sorry you were for wanting to help them. If only you hadn’t gotten involved, if you hadn’t met your family, if that night you had begged your mom to take you with her...

“You know I love you, right?”

The sweet memory of her only served to rub salt in the wound. Even if you were still being used and mutilated for their experiments, you’d be happy to endure it if it meant staying by her side, congratulating you, hugging you, whispering false words in your ear. Even if they were all lies meant to use you, you’d be happy to deceive yourself with that conditioned love.

But you didn’t have that anymore. You didn’t even have that—those empty promises of love and affection. Since you arrived at the mansion, you had nothing left.

You wanted to go back to your mom. You wanted to...

“Mom... Mom...!” You sobbed harder, calling out for your mother, naïvely thinking she would come to your rescue. “I want my mom...”

Batman tightened his grip on you.

“Do you work for her?! For Ivy?!”

You pressed your lips together and remained silent. Batman realized you weren’t going to answer anything else, and, releasing you, he left you on the floor.

You coughed and began to catch your breath, but you couldn’t sit up.

You heard your father’s steps, along with your siblings’, all heading in the same direction, leaving you behind.

In a final attempt, you grabbed Robin’s hand, holding him for a moment.

“Damian...” You whispered, and the sound was exactly what it was: a desperate plea.

But Robin harshly pulled his hand from yours and shook his head, then followed Batman.

You curled into a ball in your spot, among the rubble and fire.

It didn’t matter. Your efforts, your sleepless nights, your hopes, your patience, your perseverance—none of it changed anything. It only got worse. You weren’t sure, but you could bet that you no longer had a home to go back to starting today.

Your confused body no longer had any tears to shed or strength to rise. In your few remaining thoughts, you laughed at the comparison between the end of your life with your mother and the end with your father. Both situations leaving you discarded amidst fire and smoke.

Even these small moments with the distant fire were warmer than your entire stay in that mansion. Your mind briefly thought of Alfred, but you immediately dismissed it. Surely, once your family told him what happened, he would hate you for killing Tim.

But now, what came next...?

What were you supposed to do at this moment? You had no home, no parents, no siblings, no food, nothing. You had nothing left. Not even the will to go on.

Your mom hated you. Your family hated you. At school, they hated you. And you were sure it wouldn’t be long before the news outlets made the entire city hate you too.

Well, at least I tried... You thought, resigned.

Maybe... Maybe the world left you in this situation, along with the flames of the fire, as a sign. Maybe it wanted you to end up here to have the same fate as your brothers...

Your feet began to move on their own, getting closer to the heart of the fire.

Just a little more, and all of this would end... Just...

“That was quite an intense scene back there, don’t you think?”

You tried to ignore your new visitor. You’d had enough of everything your whole life. You didn’t want to worry about anything, or think about anything, you just wanted to die and sleep.

You ignored his words and got closer to the fire.

But the stranger dared to place a hand on your shoulder, and all your repressed emotions erupted into a furious attack. Huge roots, like those of an ancient tree, shook the ground and shot toward your visitor, sending you both several meters apart.

But the sheer magnitude of your attack was enough to snap you out of your trance.

“I... I...” You looked at the stranger, confused, not knowing how to start talking or apologizing...

But the stranger wasn’t bothered in the slightest by your attempted attack. In fact, the way he evaluated you reminded you a little of your father, Batman, but even calmer.

“You have great potential, little one. Why waste it? Why throw it all away for people who treated you unfairly?”

Unfairly...? He...?

“I’ve been here all along. I know you didn’t do anything wrong, little one. You just wanted to help your family, right? Most parents would be proud of a child like that, even I would be…”

You were innocent. You were innocent, and he knew it.

You didn’t kill Tim... You didn’t...

“But he didn’t want to listen to you. If you asked me, I’d even say that he didn’t let you explain yourself, deliberately trying to get rid of you…”

“I…” When did he get so close?

“I can offer you a home, training to control your powers. Above all, I can offer you a family.”

Family…? That was all you wanted. What difference did it make? You had nothing left to lose.

The man lifted you into his arms and cradled you with a tenderness you hadn’t felt in a long time. You could’ve cried from how good it felt at that moment.

“My name is Ra’s al Ghul, little one. And you?”

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ It seems there was a confusion with the translation at one point, so I had to redo a big part of the story, which delayed me by one more day… Anyway, I hope the wait was worth it, I had some difficulties creating this chapter. Initially, all the parts were going to be in a single chapter, but that would have meant not adding several important scenes to the plot or making an enormous chapter to reach this point. Can you imagine?

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Anyway. Regarding the ask box, it's closed for now because I'm writing the rules for sending messages. Also, because most of you asked for a common scenario (really, more than 20 people), I'm working on that too, and it will be the last scenario I write until I finish the Unfair series.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Maybe I'll be inactive for a while after this. The past three weeks have been completely packed with responsibilities and commitments from every direction. Right now, I'm in a different city, far from home, in the capital of my country, kind of like the New York of the USA. The people here are super frantic, it's crazy.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ As a heads up, in case anyone hasn't seen it yet, I've been updating the Masterlist on my profile, and I've added the synopses of new projects. Maybe after this, I'll keep adding more and start creating schedules to update you on my new stories.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ By the way, I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that I’ve already exceeded the number of people I can tag. I’m really sorry to everyone who wanted to be on the list, but even by reblogging my post and tagging others, I won’t be able to tag everyone :(. However, you can follow me, and you’ll get a notification on your feed when I post a new chapter or something!

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Anyway, I don't have much more to say. If you want fresh updates on what I'm working on, or how the chapter process is going while I'm making them, you can follow me on Instagram, which is in my bio!

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ To finish, I’d like to thank everyone who commented, liked, or reblogged the previous chapter. I read each and every one of them! Thank you so much for all your love! ❤️.

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