Chapter 2: First lesson: Deception.

Nothing to say or mention since this chapter is being updated around the same time, so...

Enjoy.

Damian.

Having gotten home, Damian was not surprised that his father was getting ready to leave. He did know he wasn't going on a business trip anytime soon, so he must be going out on patrolling. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering why he couldn't get along with the other kids. Why he always found himself fighting them more than talking. He was getting sick of it. He was trained to kill, but he couldn't just kill people because they annoyed him. Sure he could, but the time for senseless killing was long gone. Working along side his father as Robin had taken its toll. He no longer felt that killing was the right thing to do, but there times where felt that it was the simplest thing to do. There were a few that he got along with, but it wasn't enough to please that investigator.

He turned, annoyed. That teen came back to his mind. It confused him why they would have someone so young working at CPS, and why let him show the tattoos. Sure, he may have gotten them willingly, or someone forcibly put them on, but when people have tattoos, like say the gym teacher, they have to cover it. He remembered a time it was extremely hot, but the gym teacher had to cover the tattoos on his arms with a long sleeved shirt. He almost had a heatstroke.

I wonder what it's going to be like having a homeschooling teacher. Maybe it will be the same as when I was little, just less fighting and more math. He stared at the wall, his mind wondering.

Soon, his mind on various theories, sleep claimed him.

Enocente.

It wasn't everyday the old dog was willing to teach a pup, so Villanueva felt some sort of pride. "I hate you."

Old dog's can't be taught new tricks, huh. Villanueva frowned and shoved him towards the manor. "Go do your job."

"Whatever." He turned and walked towards the mansion, hands full with briefcases filled with schoolwork and CPS paperwork. He knocked on the door and waited patiently.

An older man opened the door. "Ah, you must be Enocente, the tutor."

"That's me, but I am also here on CPS business." He informed the old man as he picked up the cases.

"If you would follow me I will show you where you will be teaching the Young Master." Enocente nodded.

As they walked Bruce came down the stairs, dressed in a black suit. "Alfred, I'm heading out. Make sure Damian stays out of trouble." He stopped when he spotted Enocente. "You must be the tutor."

"Name's Enocente." He said. "I would like to begin with the CPS stuff first."

He gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I have a very important business meeting."

"I understand. So, schoolwork first then."

Alfred led Enocente to a spacious room and Enocente started to set up. "I shall fetch Master Damian and bring some refreshments."

He liked math so he's gonna save t for last. Biology... that can wait. English, History, Biology and then Math since he can't necessarily do Gym. He got out the assignments he felt he needed to work on when Damian entered. "Hello, I know you hate this, but take comfort that I, too, hate this." He said.

"I don't hate this." He said.

"Is that so? Well, let's get started, shall we?"

English went well. It was just the usual punctuation and formatting. History was fine, except Damian didn't know even half of the people they were studying. Biology was boring for both, so they agreed to cut off at an agreeable spot. Math, hat they are working on at the moment, was something less enjoyable. To be hones, Enocente would proudly say he loved math. He's loved it so hard it was weird. But Damian hated it. It wasn't a case of him not seeing when he'll use it, but more along the lines of... incompetence. He was surprisingly bad. But Enocente got the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't the problem, but the formulas that was being taught. Enocente knew the problem himself.

He had gotten into fights (verbal) with his teachers because he never used the formulas they taught. He always used his own ways. His own shortcuts. It worked for him. "You suck at this." Enocente stated flatly.

"Shut up. You're my tutor, right? Aren't you supposed to encourage me and show me how to work these problems?"

"Yeah, but I've learned that what some people see as the 'correct way' of doing things, just doesn't work for everybody." Enocente said, earning a sigh from the boy. "Listen, I'll give you pointers, but I want you to find your own way of solving these problems."

"The teachers don't like it when we use different formulas." He retorted.

"All that matters is that you get the correct answer, no?" The older man shrugged. "Just tell them that you don't like their formulas and that the way you're doing it is easier for you. If they keep complaining, file a report."

"If it was that easy, I would have done it." Damian muttered.

Enocente smiled. "It is. Here, this is what you got to do."

Neither would guess that everything was going to change.

Bruce.

Having tailed a group of people carrying strange cargo, Bruce watched as the men stopped at a new junkyard. They seemed to be very happy, and so far, other than the cargo, they could pas off as some friends going exploring. Their cargo was a wooden box with odd carvings on it. Two bigger men carried it while the rest led the way to the center of the junkyard. They stopped and set the box down. When they did the apparent leader of the group pulled the lid off and took out a large book, opening it. As he did a large gust of wind blew, making them stagger. As Bruce got close, he could hear them chanting.

The leader started to yell, the chanting getting louder. Deciding to intervene, Bruce got up, ready to glide kick the leader, when the ground shook, the soil sinking. "Yes, at last!" The man exclaimed. He got near the holed that formed.

A hand shot out as he was looking in and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him into the hole. The others tried pulling him out, but whatever grabbed him was stronger. Bruce ran to them just a s the loud sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones sounds and the man came free, his head missing, blood squirting everywhere. "Get back!" He yelled.

The men looked at him, but chains came bursting from the ground, grabbing them and picking them up. The chains had rusty, serrated edges and were digging into the men's flesh. Taking out a small explosive, Bruce tossed it into the hole. The chains stopped just as it exploded, letting the men fall to the ground. They scrambled to get away, but a loud growl shook the earth. A hand came out and dug its claws into the hard soil, slowly pulling itself out. It had large, twisted black horns. Its eyes were a bloody red, its skin a similar color.

"You dare attack me?!" It screeched and charged Bruce.

"Cease your actions!" A ball of light slammed into the demon's chest, sending it flying into a wrecked car.

Before Bruce could turn, the Darkness filled his vision and he fell, the cold Earth holding him.

Villanueva.

Bruce fell down, his mind being assaulted. He sighed. "Now I have even more work. Kill those men and get back in your hole." He ordered.

The demon snarled, but sent out its chains to grab and drag the men back. After eating them, it retreated back into its hole, growling. Villanueva carefully pulled the mask off, seeing Bruce's face. He hummed and put the mask back on. He looked at a Nightwalker and gestured to the man. The Nightwalker nodded and picked him up, running off to take him back home. Looking at the rest, he nodded to them and left the junkyard. He, along with the group of Nightwalkers walked down the street, ignoring the looks they were getting. Stopping at a store, he walked in, the Nightwalkers staying outside.

"Well, well, well." The shop owner paled. "Let me guess, your morals came back?" Not a moment later, the man was thrown out the window. "If you did what I asked, we could have avoided this conversation. Now, you are going to get back to work, or I'm gonna find a replacement, and tie up loose ends."

He crawled away, ignoring the shards of glass in his face and hands. "No! You're a demon! A DEMON!"

Villanueva, slightly glad he was wearing a mask, sighed as he pulled out a gun. "Now that hurt my feelings." He shot the man and holstered the gun. He walked over and lightly kicked his head, seeing the hole. "Ew."

"Freeze! Drop the weapons!"

"Huh?" Looking up, the GCPD surrounded them. There are six cars, so nearly a dozen officers. Small arms mainly. One shotgun. Villanueva sighed. "Get them."

The Nightwalkers growled and walked towards the cops, their axes ready. "Stop, or we will open fire!"

"Put your hands in the air, now!" A female cop shouted. A Nightwalker threw a knife, hitting the woman in the chest.

"Open fire!"

Guns went off and bullets flew. The bullets bounced off their plated armor , but when it pierced the flesh at the exposed parts between the joints, no visible blood flowed. When the officers stopped firing either to reload or to see why all the Nightwalkers were still standing. The Nightwalkers charged forward and the cops fired again, but they shrugged their bullets off. One slammed their ax on a cops head, splitting it in two with a sicking crunch. The officer with the shotgun fired at point blank range and only staggered a Nightwalker. The Nightwalker grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him onto the ground, then stomped on his head repeatedly. The other cops were slaughtered when they failed to escape. Villanueva sighed, signaling for them to retreat. One lingered and pulled out a blue gem. He gripped it tightly and it started to glow. The Nightwalker threw it into the store and ran after the others.

The gem grew brighter and brighter, until a bright light shined through cracks that formed around it. Then the light faded for a moment, then returned, spreading from the store to the street and exploded, covering the entire area in blue flames. The fire burnt away the evidence of the Nightwalkers and turned the bodies into ash. Everything, including the buildings around the store were nothing but ruble and ash when the firefighters got there. There was nothing left. Nothing but a bullet casing salvaged from the ash. The fire should have melted it, but it was cool to the touch and had strange markings on it. It perplexed the firefighter who found it and soon turned it over to the police. The detective that got the bullet examined it closely, making sure to put gloves on.

He looked it over once more ans spotted something on the side. It was small, but he could make it out. I was a symbol and when he recognized it, his blood ran cold. It was the symbol for Balance. The symbol for the ancient order of Nightwalkers, the most dangerous cult to have ever existed, and now they were in Gotham. He knew only of stories, and those stories were terrifying. Nightwalkers existed to help humanity, but would push that aside and follow the orders of their master.

The Bane of the Gods has returned to the living.

I hope that's better than the original. Anyway, leave a review, or PM me with questions.