The message arrived as a digital intrusion, a phantom limb of unwanted contact.
INCOMING MESSAGE 3:27 PM
Unknown: “Hello, friend :)”
The read receipt confirmed delivery. A prickle of annoyance ran through Damian. He hadn’t solicited this.
Unknown: “Ouch… not even a reply?”
Damian: “How did you get this number?”
The reply came almost instantly, laced with a mocking confidence.
Unknown: “Oooh~ sparked an interest, huh? Well, it’s pretty easy when you have the right contacts. Hello, friend ;)”
Damian: “We are not friends. Delete my number. You have the wrong one.”
The defiance felt hollow, a desperate attempt to sever an unwanted connection.
Unknown: “Not a chance. Robin. Don’t try to deny it, Batman’s sidekick, or should I say, Bruce’s son.”
Damian’s grip tightened on his phone. A cold dread coiled in his stomach.
Damian: “Who are you?! How did you find this out! Just wait, Batman will find you.”
The response was laced with chilling glee.
Unknown: “Aha! If only you could see me right now. Then you’d see how hard I’m laughing! Gotta love Batman and his boy band. Ahh, but seriously, you won’t ever find me. No matter how hard Batman, The Justice League, or your little Red Robin work. For all you know, I’m just a little kid, in a little apartment, keeping a little secret ;) Tell anyone about me, and I’ll make sure you get leaked.”
Damian: “What do you want from me?”
The reply was swift, a calculated proposition.
Unknown: “Easy. An agreement. You have my back, I have yours. You stab mine, I’ll stab yours. Tell someone about me, I tell someone about you. Do something for me, I do something for you. Be my eyes, I’ll be yours. What do you say, friend?”
Damian’s fingers hovered over the screen, weighing the implications. This was a dangerous game, a calculated gamble.
Damian: “Do I have a choice? Why should I even consider your offer? You could be a criminal, playing me, turning me into your pawn. Using me.”
The response was measured, almost reasonable.
Unknown: “All valid points. You want a sign that I’m trustworthy? Fine by me. Joker and Harley’s new hideout is in an abandoned doll factory near the loading docks by the coastline. They plan to release a bomb of Joker gas in central Gotham during rush hour.”
Damian stared at the message, his mind racing. A trap? A test? Or a genuine piece of intelligence?
Damian: “How should I know if this is all true?”
Unknown: “Guess you’ll just have to trust me, friend.”