Damian was bleeding. Most were shallow cuts, grazes at best, but one strike across his chest had almost found it's mark. Damian had executed that assailant with extreme prejudice. His hand was a good two meters from the rest of his body and even further away from his head.
Even after a few minutes of fighting, with body parts scattered about, there were still enough opponents to put up a formidable opposition... but their target had changed. Damian had noticed when the battle shifted and when the masked men had clearly decided he was no longer the main threat.
Damian locked blades with the man in front of him, then turned enough to call out to the meddlesome girl. "I didn't ask for your help."
The last thing he needed was this getting back to Mother.