Damian Wayne hated being forced into impossible situations—yet here he was, cornered. In this world, his counterpart had never grown up. He felt a twinge of jealousy. He wished he had been here from the beginning.

Heretic had completed the job perfectly, and Batman’s attempt to resurrect him failed.

Now he was in the Belfry—not the Batcave—with a living Alfred by his side, while the rest of his family glaringly absent.

Morning sunlight glinted off the large clock of Wayne Industries’ Belfry, now Oracle’s hideout. Its aged, Gothic architecture, with high ceilings and wooden scaffolding, is a stark contrast to the Batcave. As expected in Gordon’s lair, the hall was a mess, overflowing with computer chips and a Bat computer model.

As Alfred and Gordon are eyeing him like the dead who came back, Oh of course it's literal right now.

He is a stranger to them. Dead at 10 now in a 14 year old body. This macabre of events.

”DNA and other tests confirm you are Damian Wayne, and your sped up growth is an anomaly. Jawbones are accentuated by elongated limbs. It feels like instead of decaying in a coffin, you thrive without any nourishment, which is intriguing.”
Said Gordon, tapping her pen against her teeth and nervously twisting her ponytail.

”I’m Damian Al Ghul Wayne, I don’t know what to tell you , but I assure you I’m Damian, son of the Bat.” But not the Damian you know.

He looks at Alfred, seeing his grandfather breathing.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and a hiccup caught in his throat.

A cough.

“You’re taller now…” Alfred said softly, placing the tea beside him without meeting his eyes. “I’d always imagined you would be.”

He smiled. “Alfred, I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, his eyes welling up, “but I deeply appreciate you being here.”

“It’s okay, Master Damian. The fact that you’re back is what’s important.”

His grandfather’s soothing words helped calm him down.

Back, those words… no, his not really back. , he was not the kid who died at the hands of his clone Brother Heretic. Not the one they grieve. And those 4 years would be gut wrenching for them. He is an interloper. He didn’t belong here.

He knows his just a clone, inherited a memory from the original, and after his mission to save the Miraculous heroes from their foolishness.

He will have to go. He didn’t want to think about that yet. It's too early in the morning as he sips the chamomile tea that Alfred had prepared for him.

A lone dust mote danced in the weak morning sunbeam slicing through the gloom. The only sounds were the quiet hum of his computer and the occasional clink of his teacup, breaking the heavy silence. He felt compelled to leave the building.

”Where’s Fa..Father?”

”Master Bruce is on a long off world mission to Slag Galaxy unfortunately he will be there for a couple of months.” His grandfather answered.

”Who’s protecting Gotham?” he blabbed.

”Oh, Of course, that’s the first thing you want to know. It’s The Batman Incorporated and Birds of Prey.

You’re brothers are not in Gotham. Dick is on a deep cover mission. Don’t worry, his alive. But without a certain date of when it will be over.

Jason is with the outlaws, roaming the world with his new friends. And Tim is in the Justice League International as the Batman Incorporated sole representative.”

A long look of the red hair.

”This family broke apart after your death. Sorry, kid.

But those four years had changed everyone. Not for the better though.” Barbara Gordon’s words, sharp as shards of glass, cut through the air.

He hopes Grayson will be here; he is the brother that can navigate the situation complex as it is.

“That’s a lot to process. Regrettably, I need to go”. He admitted honestly, “I had a mission—I can’t say where it’s from—but there are conditions attached. My very existence depends on fulfilling it’s demands.” He carefully skirted Bat-Mite.He looked at the two.

The two glances at each other, hesitation in their words then.

”Existence, you say, Master Damian.” Prodded by Alfred.

He took a deep breath.

“Brought back from the dead and given a mission, my sole purpose is to prevent something catastrophic from happening. That’s all I can divulge, I’m afraid.”

”Where would you go, Master Damian”: Alfred, with a gentle nod.

He looked at his grandfather, resolute. “Paris, Alfred, my mission is in Paris.”

”Damian, I’m sorry, but we can’t release you; you’re an anomaly with too many unknowns; at worst, you’re working for the enemy. Alfred’s firm refusal to handcuff or confine you has stopped me from doing so. You’ll be under observation for a couple of days.”

Gordon spoke in a stoic tone.

“As Miss Gordon had said, we cannot allow you to roam yet, but a compromise we can give you, you’ll have someone to watch you, someone will shadow you in Paris…” Alfred tone, stern but with something glint in his eyes.

”But…”

”However, since I am overdue for a long vacation, I believe I can join you in Paris. Being a minor, it may be inconvenient for both you and others to look after you. Trust me, I will use my vacation time properly.” He smiled.

”Alfred, are you sure about this?” His voice, shaky at the thought, his grandfather wanting to have time with him, it filled his chest something akin to joy.

“But I still had to tell it to the others. It's a big deal for us, Alfred, and for the record I'm not against shadowing him in France. But we need to be careful about this.

Batman had been gone for almost six months now, and if Bruce gets a hold of this news, I bet he will abandon that mission and go back here in a heartbeat. “

”Can you not tell it to others that I'm undead eer alive? I, I want to tell them personally… to Drake and Todd….to be honest. I'm not ready to see them yet.”

”Damian, they had the right to know.”

”Ahem” a cough from Alfred.

”Master Damian,that's understandable. We still have a window of time to tell them you’re back.”

With one stern look from Alfred, Gordon sighed in defeat.

Damian’s lips curve up slightly. That’s what he’s missing; Alfred will always support him. As he takes a sip of tea. He silently pondered his next move.

------------------------------------------------------------------

He lies on the second floor of the belfry, where there is a tattered sofa and a big wall-mounted TV. He borrowed a laptop to discover the year and the events that occurred, claiming he wanted to know what happened after his death.

It’s a lot to take in, but the timeline aligns. Now it’s 2015, and he researched Paris. There were no Akuma or any relation to Miraculous since it hadn’t even started yet. However, Gabriel Agreste had been here and reported that his wife was dead or missing. Four months prior.

His descent into villainy hadn’t begun yet. He had the chance to strike the villain, which would change the plot, but considering the variables and potential outcome, can he do it? Would it change too much? What if Marinette never became Ladybug and Adrien never became Chat Noir? What precautions should be taken?

And Master Fu, the elusive master, is hard to find; no images, no names identical to him. He really hacked the system in Paris. Maybe he’s not in Paris yet, or he’s hiding and he is good at it.

He looked into the history of the Order of the Guardians, but all he found was a legend. In Tibet, he had to delve further, but accessing the League of Assassins Archive, where that knowledge was stored, was beyond his reach.

He was killed by his clone brother, Heretic.
He wasn’t angry with him; he understood better than anyone why Heretic had done it. Whether he is still alive or Mother killed him. If the Other hasn’t been stopped. His responsibilities weighed heavily on him as he considered “what if” scenarios. Damn it. keep the mission in sight.

He sighed, lost in thought, as he typed and considered the variables he needed to juggle. Plan to make the outcome favor him. But everything depended on him reaching Marinette early, before it all started. Build a strong friendship with her. It all comes down to her feeling isolated and betrayed by her friends. She needed an anchor, a steadfast ally, who will not turn on her, the minute Lila Rossi enters the picture.

It feels really manipulative. Can he truly be a good friend, especially considering Maya, who he remembers as his pseudo-sister, Mara, his cousin, and Jon, his friend, alongside the chaos involving Maps at the academy?

Is he actually able to be friends with Marinette? He’s abrasive, emotionally stunted, and probably the last person who should be anyone’s anchor.

His memories overwhelmed him with sadness; he’ll never see his friends here again, will he? Jon might live his entire life without ever knowing who Damian Wayne or Robin is.

Goliath’s beard

Will his cousin Mara be alright in the league if it is not reformed after his death? or Maya, still consumed by a thirst for revenge despite her father’s killer being dead. Not having been avenged. She’s probably with Deathstroke Inc. Damn it, is it possible to save her?

Maps will probably be good not knowing him, anyway.

Damn you, Bat-Mite! He initially believed his mission was solely to rescue the Miraculous team from a traitor and salvage Marinette and Adrien’s relationship, but now he has to consider his own complicated relationship with this alternate family.

Really Bat-Mite? He felt the imp had manipulated and tricked him.

This is a faustian bargain with the devil, but the good thing about it is having a living, breathing Alfred on his side. He wished this moment, so vivid in his mind, to be real, and it is!

And his mother... His feelings intensified, like a suffocating wave of heat. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs screaming for air.

couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

“Damian,” Gordon’s voice boomed, echoing in his ears, while her grasp was a soothing, grounding presence.

“Breathe with me, Damian,” she whispered, her voice a calming balm, “Inhale the crisp air, exhale... Yes, that’s right, you’ll be okay, we’re here.”

His vision cleared, the blurry film of tears wiped away from his stinging eyes. It’s not good to make him look weak in front of his family.

”Tha-thank you Barbara. Im’ better now.”

”Were always be here, even they are not physically, your brothers and Bruce is always in your heart right?”

He smiled and coughed.

”Oh I said something so cheesy am I?” Gordon snort.

“No, it’s good. It’s not cheesy at all; I needed that.” he adds.

“You know, experiencing grief, loss, and disorientation, I feel you’re really different from the kid I knew—not in a bad way, though. You seem more mellow than the abrasive kid. Is it just teen hormones?”

“Maybe.”

Gordon noticing the console at the side of the rack. And an idea sprung in.

“Hey, let’s play a video game. I do that when I’m nervous or having a panic attack – it helps clear my head and get rid of extra stress.” You game?” Gordon offered.

The stubborn part of him will likely say no, but after what he’s been through in the past day, why shouldn’t he accept? Perhaps a video game will lessen his worries about the future.

“Yes,please.”