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17 | a pretty little warrior

On the weeks Damian didn't see Svetlana, he stressed. He stressed and stressed to the point where even Virgil allowed Jason to sedate the child - anything for a minute of peace!

The Wayne family of misfits and extras argued a lot, especially with Damian. He snapped and fought. His Svetlana was missing and these obnoxiously stupid brothers were not helping. Where were the women when they were needed?

So, Damian was sedated, and beginning to wake up in the back of bat-mobile as Dick pulled into an old car park near an abandoned looking ballet studio. A studio that Virgil had figured was fake and had never been open.

The three men looked at the boy as his eyes snapped open, meeting the masked faces of his quote-on-quote siblings — aka the imbeciles that leeched of them.

"Let's get your girlfriend." Jason declared, patting the small teenager on his head, messing up his hair. There was roughly eight inches between him and the youngest, and that was definitely a confident boost to the much larger man.

Jason was the first to step forward, ending up being grabbed by the other two and pulled down. Damian shook his head. And as he was pulled back a man in dark clothing and a unnecessary big gun walked past. Maybe, for once he was glad his siblings saved him.

Maybe he owed them something - an ounce of respect. To some degree, maybe he did respect them. Tim - his replacement - he had heart, he took his best friend but refused to get in the way. Dick - a guy with questionable taste sometimes - he still stood round despite his stolen childhood, he still came back to them, he still gave up his time, got them food, made them feel better when the world treated them like shit and made sure to stay open minded for them. Damian - he was just a brat. No one needs a brat. What if he shoved him in line...

He did.

Damian Wayne for once, had not expected to be shoved into the line of fire. The world was red, a small tint upon his eyes as he glanced back.

But when he turned. When he looked over, she was there. His girl. The doll like beauty with the palest of skin, blonde hair and love in her eyes.

Love.

Svetlana Orlova, a creature of loyalty was looking with her big blues, a tint of a smile on her rosey lips. A wink.

Her tiny, should be fragile body, was pulled into a room, a room with a dark tinted glass, her eyes only leaving his upon entering.

He watched. He'd always watch her. She was brilliantly perfect. A creature of loyalty, of routine, of strength.

Her body twisted, it turned. Over and under. Side to side. Avoidance. Always avoid until they're tired. She turned, dived, danced her way to the top. Not a single move made until pants echoed the around the room.

And then she did. Legs swinging. Spin. Up and down. Arms. Legs. Head. Hit and kick. Until she finally was upon her shoulders, legs around her, hands upon her jaw and head. And twist. She twisted until it snapped, until the body hit the floor and she laid there, just a second.

She didn't need this.

Damian stared through the glass.

She was up, on her toes, a faint wink once again.

This time Damian wasn't the only one watched. Tim, Dick and Jason stood over his shoulders watching.

"She's thinking.

"She's got no way to think." Tim reminded him. "She's under mind control."

Round two. Left. Right. Up. Down. And spin. Spin. And spin. And spin. And spin. She spun and spun until she was dizzy. Agent thirteen looked at her new opponent. Left leg up. Left leg down. Gun out. Spin. Spin. Spin. Whack - hard enough to break her nose. Hard enough to daze her. Gun aimed. Shoot. Bang!

Two girls. One agent thirteen. Sword. Slice. Gun shoot.

Bodies piled up.

One. Two. Four. Eight. More and more.

"She's amazing."

"We're in way over our heads."

"She's a badass."

"Stop saying that."

"Duck."

"What?"

Dick dragged Damian down with him.

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