SON OF BATMAN

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Haha! Hahaha!" he cackled, his voice rising in pitch. "Hahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahaha!"

The thugs all around him exchanged uneasy glances, not sure whether to join in or back away. The madman's laughter continued, echoing off the walls of the bar, drowning out all other sounds.

His hysterical laughter intensified, louder and more chaotic with each passing second. The sound twisted through the air like a living thing, a harbinger of the chaos to come. It grew manic, the sound reverberating through the room echoing in the darkness.

The criminals who had been celebrating moments before now stood frozen, their earlier joy replaced by a creeping dread. They had wanted Batman gone, but as the laughter echoed through the bar, they began to understand what that truly meant. Without Batman to hold him in check, this guy was now truly unleashed, and that thought terrified them more than the Dark Knight ever had.

"Hahahahaha!... Hahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahahaha!"

The laughter lingered, a chilling promise of the anarchy to come in a Gotham without its Dark Knight.

******

"…and I encourage all citizens to be present to pay their respects to Gotham's greatest protector."

As soon as Commissioner Gordon finished his announcement, the room on the screen erupted with noise. Reporters and journalists shouted questions, their voices overlapping. Camera flashes flickered wildly, trying to capture the moment.

In the vast living room of Wayne Manor, the television's glow cast long shadows across ancient Persian rugs and centuries-old furniture. Damian Wayne, standing near the TV, watched for a moment as the chaos unfolded on screen. He grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, the sudden silence in the room stark compared to the frenzy on the screen.

He stared at the dark screen for a long moment before tossing the remote onto the coffee table. "Well, that's that," He said flatly.

The afternoon sun streaming through Wayne Manor's windows seemed to mock the somber mood within. Damian Wayne, Yvonne Ashford, and Dick Grayson were all gathered in the living room of Wayne Manor.

The large windows bathed the room in the warm afternoon sunlight, but the atmosphere in the room was tense and heavily weighed down by the loss of Bruce Wayne and the monumental announcements of the day. Damian stood rigid, his jaw clenched, while Dick Grayson leaned against the fireplace, his usual easy demeanor replaced by something heavier. Yvonne Ashford sat quietly on the couch, her eyes fixed on Damian.

Alfred, ever the proper butler, entered the room with a tray in hand. He moved gracefully and quietly with a tray in hand. On it sat a polished teapot and a delicate china cup. He approached Yvonne, who was seated at a small table, her posture elegant despite the somber mood.

"Young Miss," Alfred said in his usual calm tone as he placed the tea in front of her, "I thought you might enjoy a cup of tea. It's a blend from the Manor's private collection. I hope it offers some comfort."

Yvonne looked up and smiled warmly at Alfred. "Thank you, Alfred," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

Alfred nodded, returning a small smile of his own before stepping back to give them space. Yvonne took the cup and wrapped her hands around it. Her fingers brushed against the fine china, finding comfort in its familiar warmth. The aromatic steam rose in delicate spirals, carrying the subtle scent of Earl Grey throughout the room.

Grayson, seated on the couch across from Damian, leaned back slightly and crossed his arms, glancing at the now-dark TV. "Memorials huh? One in Robinson Park and one at City Hall," he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and melancholy. "Guess Gotham's finally doing something to honor him."

Damian paused for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Yeah," he said, surprising Grayson with the lack of sarcasm in his tone. "At least he'll be remembered for everything he did. Long after we're gone, people will still talk about him."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect you to care about memorials."

Damian's gaze lingered on the now blank TV screen for a moment before he turned back to Grayson.

"It's not about the statues themselves," Damian said, his voice steady, "but rather what they represent and stand for. People live on through the impact they leave behind, the legacy, the idea. As long as people remember you, talk about you, and reflect on your life, it's like you never truly die. It's a form of life after death."

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "In a way, Father will live for as long as those memorials stand. Who knows? Maybe long after we're gone, he'll be discussed not only as Batman but as Bruce Wayne too."

Grayson's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and pride crossing his features as he studied his younger brother. He stayed quiet for a moment, digesting Damian's words.

Yvonne sipped her tea quietly during the exchange, her blue eyes watching Damian thoughtfully. She of course already knows most of Damian's thoughts.

Grayson finally broke the silence. "Interesting way to look at it," he said with a thoughtful look on his face.

Damian didn't respond, and the silence between them hung for a few seconds before Grayson decided to move on. He shifted, leaning back against the couch and giving Damian a sidelong glance.

"Anyway," Grayson began, his voice taking on a lighter tone in an attempt to ease the tension, "What have you been up to all these years? Where have you been?"

"Here, there, everywhere." Damian gave a nonchalant shrug, and continued, "What about you? And Kory? How is she? You two still together?"

Grayson's face softened at the mention of Kory, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, we're still together," he replied. "Things have been good, really. She's doing great."

Damian gave him a brief nod, and with a casual tone, he said. "How many kids you got?"

Grayson blinked, his eyebrows shot up, slightly taken aback by the question and the way Damian asked it. From his words, it's like it was only natural for him to have kids by now. What if he didn't have any kids yet? On top of that, it's like he expected him to have a small army of children.

Grayson straightened up a bit, his chest puffing out proudly as he responded, "Two. Twins. A boy and a girl"

Damian's eyes narrowed slightly and gave him a look of disdain. "Two? That's it?" he repeated, his tone flat. Then, with a shake of his head, he said, "Cunt."

Yvonne, still sipping her tea, let out a soft chuckle, trying to stifle her amusement. Grayson, on the other hand, frowned, his pride deflated. Before he could respond, Damian continued.

"What about the others?" Damian asked, changing the subject. "How are they doing?"

Grayson leaned back, crossing his arms as he started to speak. "The others? They're all doing fine. That kid…Garfield, well... he's grown up a lot. I mean, maybe not so much in size, but in other ways, he's matured a lot." A small chuckle escaped him. "He spends more time in his human form now, believe it or not. Still cracks jokes constantly, though."

Grayson smiled widely and continued, "Oh, and guess what? Remember Tara? She's still alive. We all thought she died, but it turns out she survived that whole fiasco. It wasn't easy at first, and there were a few bumps, but she managed to come back to the team."

Grayson's smile faded slightly as he moved on. "We've had some new blood come in over the years too. There are always more kids with exceptional abilities out there, and we've been lucky enough to recruit some of them. Fresh talent, young heroes with a lot of potential."

He trailed off, as if he'd said everything that needed to be said, his voice tapering into silence. The pause felt final like he had finished the conversation. Dick Grayson didn't seem inclined to add more. His eyes darted away, avoiding meeting Damian's gaze.

Damian frowned, his annoyance bubbling to the surface. He waited for Dick to continue, to say what was conspicuously missing from the conversation. But Dick Grayson didn't. He just stopped talking, like there was nothing left to say.

Damian's frustration deepened. He was incredibly annoyed.

Yvonne set her teacup down with deliberate care, the soft clink of china against china seeming unusually loud in the growing silence. Her fingers gripped the cup a little tighter, her eyes now fully focused on the exchange. She said nothing, but her expression had shifted, her attention no longer casual. She, too, sensed the deliberate omission.

Damian's shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened, and his frown darkened. Grayson had finished talking as if nothing was missing. The silence stretched, making the tension unbearable.

Irritated, Damian barked, "And Raven?"

The sharpness in his voice cut through the room like a knife. Grayson flinched, just slightly, but it was enough for Damian to notice. He had struck a nerve.

Dick's face shifted, his easy demeanor fading into something more somber. He avoided Damian's eyes for a moment as if trying to find the right words.

The silence lingered, thick with unspoken tension. Yvonne was tense now, her eyes locked on Grayson, her concern deepening with every second of silence. From the way he was hesitating, it wasn't hard to make a few guesses as to why. Her heart raced in quiet worry, as she watched Grayson for any clue of what was coming. She turned to Damian, worried, knowing full well how much Raven meant to him.

Finally, Grayson lifted his head, his eyes meeting Damian's, his voice softer than before as he spoke, "Damian..."