This just in: Geoff Johns wastes everyone's time with a comic run that starts off with a bang (subjective) and ends in a whimper (objective), carried by the artist's fantastic panel work while he makes a middling plot whose only "adult" feature is gore and retcons previously established bits of continuity and characterizations and either contradicts itself or props up Alan Moore's work if not both, invalidating the point of the run itself and ensuring Johns is still that raccoon rooting through Moore's garbage.
In other news, the sky is blue, grass is green, water is fluid, and the only male Robin that definitively doesn't know what Barbara Gordon's mouth tastes like is Damian, only because that constitutes a criminal offense. Duke Thomas is a matter of when.