Our uncle loved all of us, but we all knew some held a different place in his heart. Unlike what we first thought, our uncle's favorite wasn't his disciple Perturabo—but, surprisingly, Angron. He despised slavery, and the things he did to slavers were... I don't want to talk about that. Besides Angron, he also loved Roboute—so much so that he's still the only Primarch who hasn't been beaten to a pulp by our uncle's iron fists. Yeah, he used to beat us. A lot."You brats are too arrogant," he used to say. "I'd prefer a battle of wits, but a battle can't be done with only one side armed."The punch came afterward. Overall, we all miss him dearly, and I hope he's watching over us in peace—and with trust
Magnus The Red.
***************
Another day, another job. Damn, that's becoming my motto, isn't it? "Even in death I serve the Omnissiah" was the saying, but I am the Omnissiah, and I want a goddamn vacation. Anyway, where were we... Oh yeah, I was going to Wayne Manor for therapy. Then a quick nap, maybe? I still need to negotiate with a few gods, conquer a few secret kingdoms—you know, your ordinary Tuesday. Also, I promised Bruce I'd help his children, which he surprisingly agreed to. I didn't think he would. He's starting to trust me, I think. It would have been faster if I hadn't behaved like a fucking lunatic, but you know—where's the fun in that? What, did you think I'm crazy? Well, of course I am, but I can play the role of a normal man any day, anywhere. It comes with being Alpharius' uncle.
Anyway, being a mad genius with ADHD is hard. Yes, I diagnosed myself with ADHD and possibly—most probably—autism. Which is weird because I don't remember having those a few millennia back. Can Nurgle give mental illness too? Wait, I'm getting distracted again. We're already at the manor, and oh boy! That is a spooky house. I don't think I've ever seen such a Halloween-themed house, and I've been to Nostramo.
As we entered through the luxurious entrance, we were welcomed by the myth, the legend—Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth, the real Batman. Jokes aside, I think I have an AI themed around him. I think Alfred Inferior was traumatizing daemons in the warp like his counterpart. Anyway, the original is quite impressive in his own right. I feel quite jealous at this point. I had to scout for my legion members for millennia and I found five possible candidates in like thirty minutes. Talk about wasted opportunity.
"Welcome back, Master Bruce, and who might be the guest?" he asked with elegance. I think I'm fanboying. Am I fanboying? Hermes, give me a quick analysis, please?
[You are a fanboy, boss. You still have that life-size statue hall. It's in room H3R0. I sometimes wonder—have you ever grown up?]
bzzzzt
[Can you please stop using your technomancy to jam my servers? It's annoying as hell!]
I still have my taunting skills, you know. Was that petty? Absolutely. Will I do it again? Indubitably. Well, I made the scanners and Hermes' logic modules, so I was fanboying. Meh, what are you going to do about it?
Apparently Bruce introduced me to Alfred, which was nice and all. Anyway, let's get to the children. Therapy is not a quick and easy job—it's hard, excruciating, and dirty to clean. Or you can go for the world domination approach: it's a viable method of trauma-effective treatment.
"Right now only Damian is present. The others are on patrol. Do you wish to start now or later?" Bruce asked. They were away, huh? It's night, so that shouldn't surprise me. Well, let's start with the assassin boy then. Oh man, please don't let him be like Corvus. I don't think I can handle another emo boy.
The new Robin and Bruce's only biological child, Damian Wayne, entered the room. The kid tensed upon seeing me. He has good intuition—I'll give him that. Quite impressive for his age. His body is beyond human levels, which is amazing to me. I don't know what they did to him at the League of Assassins, but they did a splendid job on his body.
"Who is this guy, Father?" Before Bruce could speak, I jumped in first. The nostalgia is really kicking in right now—the brats were also like that, until I beat some sense into them.
"Aren't you a rude one? Haven't your parents taught you manners, boy?"
Damian tensed and I felt faint bloodlust, but he forcefully relaxed himself. His control over his murderous urges is quite remarkable. I thought he would be like Corvus, but he's like Marbo. Interesting...
"I am this family's new therapist, Mr. Wayne, and you are my first patient. Before you ask: yes, I have a real degree—in approximately ten thousand different institutions. No, your father hasn't paid me any money; he just wants what's best for you. Yes, I can read minds. No, I am not reading your mind—I'm just amazing at intelligence gathering. No, I am not an assassin; that would be below my rank. And no, I don't spy on you."
Both Waynes had quite the emotional rollercoaster with my words. Unlike his father, Damian had quite the lively face. Much, much easier to read. I hope my little show is enough for him to trust me.
"Now, as much as I want you guys to spend your next day awing at my amazing repertoire of capabilities, I'm on quite a tight schedule, so let's begin. Alfred, can you show us a nice, silent room with privacy, please?"
"Of course, Mr. Noah, please this way. Do you wish any nourishment with your session?"
"Tea and cookies if possible, Alfred. I heard your cookies are famous."
Alfred guided us with a nod. I can't wait for his interdimensionally famous cookies.
We entered a cozy room with a therapy couch. Color me impressed—I didn't know Bruce had these. Well, now I'm officially at work, and professionals have standards, so here I am.
"Please lie down, Damian. Can I call you Damian?"
He slowly nodded. A good start.
"Now I will tell you about the things I know about you, and I want you to correct me if I'm wrong. Are you ready?"
"I am ready." Oh, he tensed. Mission reflex—intriguing.
"Excuse me if the topic is sensitive, but your mother Talia drugged your father and sired you without his knowledge or consent, right? After that, Ra's al Ghul trained you as a weapon, and because of some circumstances, you're living with your dad now. You're also going to middle school and like to paint. Any mistakes so far?"
"No sir. This is correct information," he seriously answered.
"You can be relaxed with me, Damian. I am not your commander. Anyway, according to my diagnosis, you are among the lighter cases in the family. Your apparent problem is your early life at the League of Assassins, which is still serious—don't get me wrong—but definitely more simple than Jason."
He nodded again. His body was still quite tense, but baby steps are key.
"You're doing amazing. I'm sure you can somewhat heal by yourself, but such traumas tend to leave scars in your life, and my job is to heal them. So let's start with what I don't know. You should know the importance of information. Tell me about your hobbies and how do you spend your time?"
Knock
"Come in!"
Before he could start, Alfred came with a tray filled with cookies and tea. The timing is uncanny—expected of the best butler.
"Thanks, Alfred." Damian started to look like his age for the first time, eyeing the cookies. I can use that.
After a break for tea, Damian started.
"Well, you know about my birth, so I'll skip that. As for hobbies, I like knives and painting. Also, patrols with Father are quite exciting in their own way. Hanging out with Jon is also fun for the most part—not that I would say that to him. Other than that, I love my pets Titus and Batcow, and taking care of them is also amazing. I think that's all. My time is mostly spent on these or training."
Hmm. Interesting.
"Well, happy for you, boy. I tend to have quite a nice collection of blades, and I think a gift would be appropriate. Do you prefer historic value or practical value?"
Damian was startled by the question. "What do you mean by that?" he curiously asked.
"Why don't I show you some of my finest pieces?" As I waved my hand, a dozen boxes materialized. What? Did you really think I would give my favorite pieces to Trazyn? Of course not.
Damian opened the first and biggest box. A katana and wakizashi were in pristine condition, yet the blades were old without a doubt.
A figure for these weapons came to his mind. "You can't be serious..."
"Oh, but I am, my boy. Be careful—those swords are the original ones that Miyamoto Musashi himself used in his days. It was a pain to get them. There are also the twenty-three knives that killed Julius Caesar. That's what I meant by historic value. The other boxes have some of the best weapons from my time."
A metal box now took his attention. As he slowly touched it, the box enlarged and split open, showing an ancient-looking sword radiating with power. Damian felt rejuvenated just by touching it. "What... what is that?"
"Oh, that is one of my best pieces. The Dawn Blade. A mysterious weapon I found at a temple. The sword can cut through nearly everything, and thanks to its chronophagic material, it can add the defeated enemies' remaining lifetime to its owner. One of its users managed to increase his life tenfold solely thanks to it."
"And you'll give it to me?!" Damian screamed.
"If you want, yes. I can always make another one if I desire. You know what? That would be better, I think. A katana fits you more. I think I can make one in a few weeks. Do you want that?"
"Of course I want that! Can you make it look cool, though?" Damian excitedly accepted.
"Now you're finally talking like your age, huh, brat? I'm offended that you even ask that—of course it would be cool-looking. That's like half the point of a legendary weapon. I'll send you some sketches in a few days. Oh, look at the hour—it's been quite a while. We can continue next session if you wish."
"That would be nice, yes," he happily agreed. Good, I managed to awaken his interest. This is going better than I thought it would.
Anyway, now that this is over, the other part of my day awaits.
Hermes, did you finish sending the message?
[Yes, boss, but because of the thickness of the border between universes, it will approximately take over twenty years to reach. It will only be a few months here though—a year at most because of the time dilation.]
Excellent. Since I'm not dead, the plan should change, shouldn't it? Anyway, it's future Noah's problem. Twenty years is a long time. Now, the next matter.
"Hello, Princess Diana. How are you on this fine night? I am fine, thank you. Can you arrange a meeting with your mother, Queen Hippolyta, please? I need to talk with her, and your mediation could be amazing help. Thank you, and of course we can, but you need a tad bit more training. Take care, my lady."
Yes, apparently the Queen is alive, and I need to persuade her for world domination. It should be quite easy—as anti-male as the Amazons are, they still worship power and divinity, and I am both. Though using divinity can be problematic. Well, tomorrow's problems. Now I only desire sleep. I still miss the land of Morpheus.
***************
AN: Here is the chapter as promised my friends. What do you think about Damian? ANd yes Noah stole the Dawn Blade and genocided the Tau before they can adavance. I think that as a huge W. 40K sucks as it is we dont need space commies.
Thank you for reading and All critism appreciated.