Injustice 2 Damian Wayne Novels & Stories

Damian walked straight toward them. “Damian—wait!” Eli started to rise. Damian didn’t turn. “Eli. Trust me.” His voice carried through the corridor—deep, calm, and lethal. Eli froze. The drones opened fire. And Damian moved like a storm unleashed. He wasn’t evading the shots—not exactly. He anticipated them, weaving between the bursts of plasma, striking the drones with precision and violence. A swift kick shattered one; he spun and slammed another into the floor, crushing its metal shell under his boot. Sparks rained around him, lighting his silhouette in flashes of electric blue.

Damian got out of the car with quick and steady steps. The night breeze blew through his sweat-soaked black suit. His eyes swept over the rickety building in front of him - old, rusted, almost like a worn-out warehouse that was no longer in use. But inside, Yara... "Set up positions, do not enter until I give the signal," he told his men. "Yes, Mr. Damian," replied one of the gunmen behind him. Damian clenched his fists. His head was still throbbing from lack of sleep, but that didn't deter his anger. He took a deep breath, then kicked the warehouse door hard.

Damian stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at Orpah, saying in a calm manner, "My name is Damian Luther." When Orpah heard his name, her expression changed at once. She exclaimed, "You're Damian Luther? The person who killed Black Bjorn and Albin White?" Damian nodded indifferently at her and said, "Yes, I killed them. So what?" Orpah's expression wouldn't stop changing. In the end, she grinned cynically at him and said, "You killed two out of the Four Fighters. You're pretty ruthless, aren't you?

He promised as he retracted his hand. Evelyn’s eyes widened. The situation that day was dangerous and Damian had been shot. Was he trying to go back and have a gunfight again? “How are you going to take revenge?” She couldn’t help but ask. Damian smirked, he grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and took a sip. “I’ll deal with him the Mafia way. By the time I’m done with him, there won’t be any bones left for his family to bury.” Evelyn shuddered at the sudden change in Damian. She had never seen him exude such strong murderous intent before.

It’s a bit surprised to see him here, because Damian didn’t dare tell him about any of this. Slap! Johnny Vanderbilt slapped Damian on the face, hard. Dmian’s teeth cut his lips, and blood slowly oozed out. He kept his head low, standing straight in front of Johnny Vanderbilt like a little boy who knew he had broken something valuable of the house. And his silver-haired father just stood there, looking at him with an expression less face, like Iustitia. “Dad...you, you know...?” Damian couldn’t look his father in the eyes, not when he just delivered his long lost sister to the court guards to be imprisoned.

“Now why the fuck would you yap about that? Shouldn’t you be keeping the informant’s identity private? You fucking mutt ruining shit.” “Ah…” Damian’s eyes glinted, “Were you supposed to be the instigator plus the knight in shining armor? Is that it?” He laughed. “You’re a funny one, brother. I’ve always admired your lunacy.”

Damian had only one arm left. Blood was gurgling out of his wound and staining the ground on his feet with red. At a distance not far away, Gerald’s face was fully written with shock as he said excitedly, “He’s a pre-celestial fighter who can condense his energy… Yet he can’t even take one punch from Dr. Yarde…” It was only now he realized how much he had underestimated Kayson. Damian controlled his energy around his body and stopped the bleeding.

“Pretty Boy, Ugly get down and see if there’s anything I need to worry about… come back and report and release this guy.” “Yes ma’am.” They nodded and left. And as for you, I turned back to him. This will teach you not to lie next time. I raised the whip and landed it on his thighs. The door creaked open. “Pretty Boy… you’re back so soon.” I said without turning back. “WHAT. THE. HELL.” That voice… Oh no. Damian. He stood there, dressed like a cover model for Mafia magazine holding a drink in one hand and betrayal in the other.

Damien had the almost slumping Wayne supported by his hands crossed around the latter's shoulders. He let go of Wayne and the latter fell to the floor, groaning and rolling to his back. My eyes looked between the two before I hurried to Wayne, lifting his head onto my laps. “When I tell you this creature is weak, you shush me. Now look, Just a little run and he already lost it,” Damien mocked, obviously not any less concerned about his immediate elder brother's gasp for breath. My left hand flew to Wayne’s chest and I regulated his breathing by roughly rubbing on it. “Why did you make him run, Damien?” I chided, glancing up at Damien who now leaned on the window that I suspect must have had

In that world, everything is above board, and Damian is one of the main players in the game of life. Joker. Is the name given to Damian because of his contribution to so many violations, including international drug trafficking, legal and illegal arms trafficking, and prostitution that is organized in such a way that its workers cannot leave freely? And sometimes it even involves the most gruesome part of the trade—human organs. "Almost," Damian says with a lighthearted tone. He gives his wine glass a little shake, creating a quiet, seductive ripple, but Damian isn't ready to savor the flavors that greet the tip of his tongue just yet. "How's the investigation going, Officer?"