[for Jason and Stephanie] The Short Halloween

[aworthyone]

Underestimating an enemy is one of the most dangerous mistakes to make. Damian knows this. But they were just toys. Not a threat and more of an annoyance. He didn't think twice about separating himself from Batgirl over the course of the day, wanting the chance to fly solo, to lash out against these paltry opponents, and prove himself still worthy

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[prodigaljaybird]

The downside to keeping most of his weapons down in Rapture is that when he finally needs them, Jason has climb through miles of cave to get them back again. But get them he does, guns, knives, the keris blade, explosives, batarangs; everything he's been hording for Bruce's arrival now bent on destroying fucking teddy bears, and Jason would weep for the waste if it wasn't all so fucked up.

It's fitting, he thinks, after a morning of hacking his way through fucking dolls, that he'd find Robin at the bottom of a dogpile, purple haired clowns closing in and fast. Jason hates clowns, for obvious reasons and for the same reason that every kid hates them - they can't stop smiling and it's creepy as fuck.

"Hey chuckles!" he barks, and the clown hanging onto Robin's cape explodes in a burst of cotton. Jason aims his gun again, picks off the clown pressed tight to Damian's back with a marksman's surety, only precious inches to spare and not a one of them wasted. "I thought the pony ride was that way!"

[aworthyone]

Damian's not entirely sure what's worse: the sickening laugh the clown makes as it's blown to smithereens or that the Red Hood thinks he's playing the role of the cavalry. Taking advantage of the momentary clearance, however, Damian flips up onto a lower branch, landing in a perfectly balanced crouch, sheathing his sword to pull out an assortment of birdarangs and shuriken, fanning the various blades between his fingers like a very deadly deck of cards.

"Tt," he says, shooting a scathing look towards Todd that's not lessened any by the domino affixed to his face. "What are you doing?"

[prodigaljaybird]

"Engaging in some thinly veiled transference!" Jason calls back, cheerfully blowing a hole through the swarm of clowns now capering his way. Jesus, killing teddy bears has nothing on wasting these freaks.

He's laughing even as three more burst out at him from the trees. Jason eludes them with a graceful flip, feet catching against a tree trunk and shoving off to send him right over their purple heads. "Shuriken, huh?" he asks as he lands, "Nice," and pulls the keris dagger from the sheath at his hip. It hasn't seen the light of day in months, and he's missed it, missed using it, the truth of it plain in the curve of his smile when he slices right through a cotton throat. "Nothing beats close combat, even when it's stuffed."

[aworthyone]

"That's not what I meant," Damian scoffs, unsurprised that Todd's missed the point completely, but no less annoyed for it. In time with a leap from his perch, he sends his blades flying, each one sinking into cotton necks, slicing them clean. The bodies still wriggle and writhe even without their heads, though, and it's once again that Damian pulls out his sword, hacking at the demented limbs with a skill and ferocity unseen in most ten-year-olds.

But Damian Wayne isn't most ten-year-olds.

His eyes fall on Todd's knife, glinting in the torchlight. With its distinct, asymmetrical dagger, it could be the twin of one of Ra's al Ghul's weapons.

"Where did you get that?"