my dad can beat up your dad ; damian wayne (legacysheir) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-03-19 19:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | damian wayne |
Who: Damian Wayne
NPCs: Talia al Ghul
Where: Undisclosed location, Syria
When: 3/19/2012
What: Damian flies the coop.
Rating: PG-13, because inflicting wounds is fun.
It was merely a stop off on the way to Sudan. A setback of a day and a half, at most, just long enough to resupply and refuel. It was an opportunity to stretch their legs and have a proper meal. It gave Talia the opportunity to check on the upkeep of just one of the many boltholes in Ra's empire and it gave Damian the opportunity to complain about it all.
Not that he was particularly looking forward to going to Sudan either. He had said as much, repeatedly, for the last 48 hours. "I don't see why you have to go in person. It's beneath you mother." "If all I'm to do is to observe, then I hardly need to attend." "I find it hard to believe that traveling to Africa is the best use of my time." "What's the big deal? It's just a stupid arms shipment."
He hadn't been nearly this difficult a year ago.
Talia slipped into the training room, already preparing herself for an argument. She stood by the wall, watching as her son sparred with one of the bunker's staff. The man was big, imposing, not unlike a lot of the people they employed. The kilij he held looked almost tiny in his hand. Not that it would make a difference in the end.
Damian hadn't bothered to look up when Talia entered. His focus was on his opponent who was clearly out of practice. It was insulting, to be honest, and Damian decided he had let things go on long enough. He ducked once and spun, his jian flashing out in a quick motion to catch the back of the man's leg, cutting through both muscles and tendons.
The larger man dropped to the mat with a yell.
Damian studied him, watching dispassionately as the man's groans became whimpers, then turned away. He looked at his mother, inclining his head slightly to show her that her presence hadn't gone unnoticed. "Mother."
Talia had her arms crossed, projecting what Damian always considered to be her regal bearing. "Ready your things. We'll be leaving shortly."
In response, Damian gave a slight shrug. He turned his attention towards his blade, checking it for signs of wear. "I've made up my mind. I've decided I'm not going."
"We're expected."
"You're expected," Damian countered. "Go without me."
"We've discussed this," Talia started. "You need to understand--"
"I know about the empire," he interrupted, forestalling a well worn lecture. "We have a vast network. Our contacts that have to be carefully managed. We have numerous officials we need to observe--"
"In order to attest their loyalty," Talia broke in.
"I'm not a simpleton, mother. I understand it already."
"That may be so, but I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't ensure you didn't get proper exposure. You're expected to know these things. These experiences," she gestured idly as if to reference the world as a whole, "are all part of your education. Worldly experience, if you prefer."
Damian raised his head in challenge. "I'm old enough to decide what's important."
"Is that so?"
"I'm not a child."
"No, but you are my son and I am your mother." Talia's tone made it clear that she expected to be heeded. And you'll do as I say. "We leave in ten minutes," she concluded, then turned on heel.
Damian watched her go. "We'll see."