“Bruce, you there?” Tim asked, waving his hand in front of Bruce’s eyes. Bruce nodded, groggily.
“I may not be the medic Alfred was, but I’m pretty sure I got the job done,” Tim said, backing away from the operation table in the Batcave.
“Where’s Damian?”
“You and I both know the answer to that question,” Tim sighed.
Bruce sat up, and spread his palm out over his forehead.
“But get this!” Tim piped up, “I managed to pin a tracker on Damian with my drone before he broke it. I got you too, in case Nyssa captured you.”
“She was just after Damian.”
“I know,” Tim said dryly.
“Where are they now?” Bruce asked.
“Somewhere over the Pacific,” Tim responded, “They’re still moving. You weren’t out for too terribly long.”
“Ready the jet,” Bruce ordered. Tim jogged over to the cavernous area with a tall rocky ceiling where the Batplane was stored.
Bruce stood up, and approached the massive monitor situated on the manually smoothed wall.
There was a 3-D model of the world with a small red blip hovering above the Pacific. The blip was nearing Japan.
Bruce tapped his fingers nervously along the sturdy table situated under the screen. Damian- his son- was in danger. He had only known him for a few months, but he had some primal urge to protect him. A raw feeling of a strange emotion. An emotion he hadn’t felt in some time.
Love.
Did he like Dick? Did he like Jason? Did he like Tim? Did he like Barbara? Did he like Lucius? Did he like Luke? Did he like Oswald?
Sure. But he hadn’t loved since his parents died.
No. No, that wasn’t true. There was Alfred. He had loved, and still did love Alfred, even if he had vanished.
Now there was Damian. He loved Damian. Something inside of him forced that feeling of love, even if Bruce didn’t want it. Acting on emotion often resulted in terrible things.
Bruce shook his head, sighed, and headed over to the stand on which his armor hung. He slipped into the tightly woven bulletproof fibers that made up the majority of his suit. Then, he put his cowl over his head, and locked it into place. Finally, he pulled on his boots, and secured the clasps for his cape on his shoulders.
“You’re good to go,” Tim called, climbing out the Batplane’s cockpit.
Batman swiftly made his way over to the stealth jet.
“Don’t, you know, die,” Tim said. Batman nodded, and sealed the cockpit.
14 YEARS AGO…
“Are you prepared, Khafaash?” Ra’s al Ghul questioned.
“Of course,” Khafaash replied.
“After Gotham falls, you will be ready to take my place,” Ra’s smiled warmly. He put a hand on Khafaash’s shoulder in a fatherly way.
“Let the razing of this putrid city begin,” Khafaash said.
Ra’s and Khafaash gazed at the city’s skyline from the doorsteps of Wayne Manor. The sun crested the jagged shadows. It was almost beautiful. But instead of the sunrise, Ra’s and Khafaash only saw filth. Crime. Poverty. Corruption. All three were rampant in Gotham. Not only would the destruction of Gotham cut any ties with Khafaash’s past life, but it would do the world a favor. A world without Gotham was a better one.
Ra’s gently spun Khafaash around. In front of Khafaash was a woman. Alexis Hale.
Alexis had naturally curly black hair that fell over her shoulders in small spirals. A few light freckles bunched together on the tops of her cheekbones. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose beet red. Clear snot ran down from her nostrils, and over her bleeding lips.
“Do you recognize this woman?” Ra’s asked.
Khafaash nodded, “A woman Bruce Wayne dated.”
“A woman you dated when you were Bruce Wayne,” Ra’s corrected, “Kill her, and begin severing ties to your old life.”
Ra’s drew a long sword from his belt, and handed it to Khafaash. Stray rays of sun bounced off of the scaly hilt.
Khafaash looked straight into the eyes of Alexis. Into her soul. He saw hopelessness. Sorrow. Misery.
“I will free you from your pain,” Khafaash murmured, in English.
“Bruce, please,” Alexis sobbed, “I don’t know what’s going on- but this isn’t you! Please! You know me! Please! Bruce, I-”
Khafaash glanced down at his hand. It had thrust the sword through Alexis’s chest. Blood spilled over his hands, and dripped onto the stairs.
“Good,” Ra’s smiled, nodding in approval, “Now, we drive your sword through all of Gotham.”
Khafaash stepped away from Alexis as her body slumped against a railing.
“Take the sword,” Ra’s instructed, walking away from the steps.
“I’m leaving it. As a sign. A sign of things to come,” Khafaash said.
Ra’s walked away from Wayne Manor. Khafaash followed.
PRESENT…
Damian glanced up at his sister. She smiled down at him.
“Look, brother, look at your subjects,” Nyssa smiled, pressing her fingers into Damian’s cheeks. She lifted his head to gaze out over a crowd of assassins.
“Fools,” Damian growled, “I am your leader! Murder this rebel!”
“No, Damian,” Nyssa said, calmly, “You turned your back on them. They do the same to you. But for me to officially take the title of Ra’s al Ghul… you know what I must do.”
Damian grit his teeth, and stared viciously at Nyssa.
“I figured it would be more… theatrical… to show your downfall to your old subjects,” Nyssa explained, “More… fun.”
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Damian said.
“You will die, Damian,” Nyssa nodded, all cockiness draining from her face, “You will die.”
“Not before you,” Damian shot back.
Nyssa hoisted Damian to his feet, and undid the shackles around his wrists and ankles.
“Duel me, brother,” Nyssa ordered.
A sword was tossed to Damian from a servant on the side of the circular dueling platform. The sword of Ra’s al Ghul. A long blade steel, with veins of titanium. The handle was rigid and golden, encrusted with sharpened emeralds along the top.
Nyssa was given a normal sword. Nothing special.
The siblings stood across the circle from each other and bowed.
Not even a second later, the two rushed at each other, swords drawn. Then, they stopped short, and readied their swords to deflect an attack. No attack came. They circled the other, not wanting to strike first and open up for an attack. Damian tested the waters by flicking his sword out quickly, then drawing it back in. Nyssa responded in kind. Then, she upped the ante, thrusting quickly at Damian’s torso. Damian batted her sword away, and went for her feet. Nyssa hopped up, and took a swing at Damian’s head. Damian ducked. Nyssa brought her knee into contact with Damian’s face. Damian stumbled back. Nyssa jabbed her sword into Damian’s chest. Damian’s face shriveled in pain, and Nyssa twisted her sword gleefully.
“You never had a chance,” Nyssa gloated.
Nyssa stepped away from Damian, and addressed the audience, “I am Ra’s al Ghul. I will not leave you all. Now, bow.”
The assassins fell to their knees, lowering their heads. Nyssa beamed, and took in the feeling of such power.
“Now, brother, you see what a true leader looks like,” Nyssa bragged, turning around. Damian was gone.
“Brother? Brother, where are you?” Nyssa called out, worriedly.
Suddenly, two swords tore through Nyssa’s neck, and her head fell awkwardly to her side. Damian dropped his swords, and kicked away her carcass.
“I am a greater warrior than you will ever be,” Damian said, hoarsely. He swiveled while clutching the hole in his chest to gaze over the crowd of assassins who had so readily betrayed him. Then again, he had left them in the first place. But they… they had lied. Or, more accurately, Talia had. She had hidden his father from him for years.
“You are all filth,” Damian spat, “This League is built on lies. Lies that affect even those at the top. It is time for the League to end.”
Damian shakily reached down to pick up his sword.
Suddenly, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned around to see Batman towering over him.
“Drop the sword, Damian,” Batman ordered.
“No.”
“No? Damian, what are you planning to do with that sword?” Batman narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what Damian intended to do.
Damian tossed the sword aside. Batman let his guard down for a split second, letting relief wash over him. At that exact moment, Damian sprang up, smashed his knee against Batman’s face, and snatched up the sword.
“I am sorry, Father,” Damian said, “This must be done.”
Damian rushed into the crowd, swinging his sword wildly. Assassins ducked out of the way and scattered. They could not harm their leader, but they could sure run from him!
Finally, Damian singled out a terrified girl who looked no older than sixteen. She was only slightly taller than Damian, who stood at 5’4”. Her long black hair obscured her face. Damian raised his sword, and tried to bring it down. The sword didn’t budge. He glanced up nervously, and saw Batman gripping the blade.
“Justice. Not vengeance,” Batman said, “These people have done horrible things. But if you kill- if you slice through that girl- you become just as bad as them.”
“I already kill Nyssa,” Damian shot back, “Why stop? I have already crossed that line.”
“I’ve crossed that line before, too,” Batman sighed, “And I learned. I learned from my mistakes. Took myself away from that dark future, and forged my present. You’re up, Damian. What will you choose?”
Damian let go of the sword. The girl turned to sprint away, but Batman grabbed her.
“Just because we won’t kill you doesn’t mean you’re in the clear,” Batman growled in Arabic.
14 YEARS AGO…
Alfred Pennyworth scrambled down the steps of Wayne Manor, and saw the dead body of Alexis Hale. A sword was thrust through it. The color drained from his face. Who had done this? Who had taunted him, leaving him the dead body of his surrogate son’s girlfriend?
Alfred rushed over to Alexis, and cradled her head in his lap. He saw her lips move. She was still alive! But Alfred had to act quickly. He ran his hand through his thinning black hair, and thought about what to do. He had a decent understanding of surgery- one of his many skills.
“Al-” Alexis whispered. Alfred leaned his head down.
“What? What is it? Who did this?” Alfred asked.
“Bruce…” Alexis exhaled.
Alfred nearly fainted. Bruce? Alive? Back in Gotham? A murderer?
“Save your breath,” Alfred ordered, trying to keep his cool. He analyzed the angle of the blade, and the entry point. He rested back on his knees, and closed his eyes. He tried to envision her internal organs, and-
The sword had been put in so as to not hit any important organs. A fluke accident? Or perhaps Bruce had picked up sword fighting in his years away. Yes, that was what Alfred would go with. Bruce hadn’t wanted to kill Alexis. He couldn’t have. He wasn’t a killer. Right?
PRESENT…
“This shall be my final act as Ra’s al Ghul,” Damian stated, addressing yet another crowd of assassins. Batman had helped him round them up.
The corners of Damian’s mouth slowly curled up as he saw the fear in his subjects’ eyes.
“Disband the League,” Damian said, stomping his foot. At that moment, the massive palace behind his, which had once housed the League, exploded. Debris rained down as Damian stretched out his arms. The assassins shrieked, and fled. Damian didn’t move.
Once the rubbled had settled, Batman came up behind Damian.
“I’d say that was a bit more effective than slaughter,” Batman said, “They’ll be too afraid to try to come back together. Your stomp leveled a temple.”
Damian raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine, a whole lot of C4 leveled a temple,” Batman admitted, showing Damian a detonator.
“No killing. No guns. But the destruction of an ancient temple with bombs?” Damian asked, “Hypocritical.”
“Maybe so,” Batman nodded, “Maybe so.”
- - -
She slowly crawled out of the pit. The clear water dripped from her clean body, and back into the pool. She turned around to stare at the pond, and its glowing green base.
A Lazarus Pit.
The girl looked around, searching for her savior. Who had brought her here? Why had she needed to be brought here? She remembered…
Her name was Nyssa al Ghul. She remembered dueling her brother in order to take the throne. Then- nothing. She remembered the fight, but not how it had ended. Had she… lost?
Nyssa looked around more frantically. She needed answers. She raced around the cave, and found exactly what she was looking for. Her head was staked to a rock. It was severed at the neck, a clean cut. Damian.
She would have her revenge.
Suddenly, a hand in a black glove came to rest on her shoulder. Nyssa whipped around to see a man in a gray suit jacket with a white collared undershirt and blood red tie. His slacks were navy blue. On his face was a black oval mask, with hollow eyes.
“Yooooooou feel rage,” the man cooed.
“Who are you?” Nyssa asked with wild eyes.
“I am yoooooour friend,” the man responded, “I will help yoooooou get the revenge yoooou desire.”
“You will help me kill Damian? And restore power to the League?” Nyssa questioned, bewildered.
“If yooou doooooo something fooooor me in return,” the man whispered.
“I may not be the medic Alfred was, but I’m pretty sure I got the job done,” Tim said, backing away from the operation table in the Batcave.
“Where’s Damian?”
“You and I both know the answer to that question,” Tim sighed.
Bruce sat up, and spread his palm out over his forehead.
“But get this!” Tim piped up, “I managed to pin a tracker on Damian with my drone before he broke it. I got you too, in case Nyssa captured you.”
“She was just after Damian.”
“I know,” Tim said dryly.
“Where are they now?” Bruce asked.
“Somewhere over the Pacific,” Tim responded, “They’re still moving. You weren’t out for too terribly long.”
“Ready the jet,” Bruce ordered. Tim jogged over to the cavernous area with a tall rocky ceiling where the Batplane was stored.
Bruce stood up, and approached the massive monitor situated on the manually smoothed wall.
There was a 3-D model of the world with a small red blip hovering above the Pacific. The blip was nearing Japan.
Bruce tapped his fingers nervously along the sturdy table situated under the screen. Damian- his son- was in danger. He had only known him for a few months, but he had some primal urge to protect him. A raw feeling of a strange emotion. An emotion he hadn’t felt in some time.
Love.
Did he like Dick? Did he like Jason? Did he like Tim? Did he like Barbara? Did he like Lucius? Did he like Luke? Did he like Oswald?
Sure. But he hadn’t loved since his parents died.
No. No, that wasn’t true. There was Alfred. He had loved, and still did love Alfred, even if he had vanished.
Now there was Damian. He loved Damian. Something inside of him forced that feeling of love, even if Bruce didn’t want it. Acting on emotion often resulted in terrible things.
Bruce shook his head, sighed, and headed over to the stand on which his armor hung. He slipped into the tightly woven bulletproof fibers that made up the majority of his suit. Then, he put his cowl over his head, and locked it into place. Finally, he pulled on his boots, and secured the clasps for his cape on his shoulders.
“You’re good to go,” Tim called, climbing out the Batplane’s cockpit.
Batman swiftly made his way over to the stealth jet.
“Don’t, you know, die,” Tim said. Batman nodded, and sealed the cockpit.
14 YEARS AGO…
“Are you prepared, Khafaash?” Ra’s al Ghul questioned.
“Of course,” Khafaash replied.
“After Gotham falls, you will be ready to take my place,” Ra’s smiled warmly. He put a hand on Khafaash’s shoulder in a fatherly way.
“Let the razing of this putrid city begin,” Khafaash said.
Ra’s and Khafaash gazed at the city’s skyline from the doorsteps of Wayne Manor. The sun crested the jagged shadows. It was almost beautiful. But instead of the sunrise, Ra’s and Khafaash only saw filth. Crime. Poverty. Corruption. All three were rampant in Gotham. Not only would the destruction of Gotham cut any ties with Khafaash’s past life, but it would do the world a favor. A world without Gotham was a better one.
Ra’s gently spun Khafaash around. In front of Khafaash was a woman. Alexis Hale.
Alexis had naturally curly black hair that fell over her shoulders in small spirals. A few light freckles bunched together on the tops of her cheekbones. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose beet red. Clear snot ran down from her nostrils, and over her bleeding lips.
“Do you recognize this woman?” Ra’s asked.
Khafaash nodded, “A woman Bruce Wayne dated.”
“A woman you dated when you were Bruce Wayne,” Ra’s corrected, “Kill her, and begin severing ties to your old life.”
Ra’s drew a long sword from his belt, and handed it to Khafaash. Stray rays of sun bounced off of the scaly hilt.
Khafaash looked straight into the eyes of Alexis. Into her soul. He saw hopelessness. Sorrow. Misery.
“I will free you from your pain,” Khafaash murmured, in English.
“Bruce, please,” Alexis sobbed, “I don’t know what’s going on- but this isn’t you! Please! You know me! Please! Bruce, I-”
Khafaash glanced down at his hand. It had thrust the sword through Alexis’s chest. Blood spilled over his hands, and dripped onto the stairs.
“Good,” Ra’s smiled, nodding in approval, “Now, we drive your sword through all of Gotham.”
Khafaash stepped away from Alexis as her body slumped against a railing.
“Take the sword,” Ra’s instructed, walking away from the steps.
“I’m leaving it. As a sign. A sign of things to come,” Khafaash said.
Ra’s walked away from Wayne Manor. Khafaash followed.
PRESENT…
Damian glanced up at his sister. She smiled down at him.
“Look, brother, look at your subjects,” Nyssa smiled, pressing her fingers into Damian’s cheeks. She lifted his head to gaze out over a crowd of assassins.
“Fools,” Damian growled, “I am your leader! Murder this rebel!”
“No, Damian,” Nyssa said, calmly, “You turned your back on them. They do the same to you. But for me to officially take the title of Ra’s al Ghul… you know what I must do.”
Damian grit his teeth, and stared viciously at Nyssa.
“I figured it would be more… theatrical… to show your downfall to your old subjects,” Nyssa explained, “More… fun.”
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Damian said.
“You will die, Damian,” Nyssa nodded, all cockiness draining from her face, “You will die.”
“Not before you,” Damian shot back.
Nyssa hoisted Damian to his feet, and undid the shackles around his wrists and ankles.
“Duel me, brother,” Nyssa ordered.
A sword was tossed to Damian from a servant on the side of the circular dueling platform. The sword of Ra’s al Ghul. A long blade steel, with veins of titanium. The handle was rigid and golden, encrusted with sharpened emeralds along the top.
Nyssa was given a normal sword. Nothing special.
The siblings stood across the circle from each other and bowed.
Not even a second later, the two rushed at each other, swords drawn. Then, they stopped short, and readied their swords to deflect an attack. No attack came. They circled the other, not wanting to strike first and open up for an attack. Damian tested the waters by flicking his sword out quickly, then drawing it back in. Nyssa responded in kind. Then, she upped the ante, thrusting quickly at Damian’s torso. Damian batted her sword away, and went for her feet. Nyssa hopped up, and took a swing at Damian’s head. Damian ducked. Nyssa brought her knee into contact with Damian’s face. Damian stumbled back. Nyssa jabbed her sword into Damian’s chest. Damian’s face shriveled in pain, and Nyssa twisted her sword gleefully.
“You never had a chance,” Nyssa gloated.
Nyssa stepped away from Damian, and addressed the audience, “I am Ra’s al Ghul. I will not leave you all. Now, bow.”
The assassins fell to their knees, lowering their heads. Nyssa beamed, and took in the feeling of such power.
“Now, brother, you see what a true leader looks like,” Nyssa bragged, turning around. Damian was gone.
“Brother? Brother, where are you?” Nyssa called out, worriedly.
Suddenly, two swords tore through Nyssa’s neck, and her head fell awkwardly to her side. Damian dropped his swords, and kicked away her carcass.
“I am a greater warrior than you will ever be,” Damian said, hoarsely. He swiveled while clutching the hole in his chest to gaze over the crowd of assassins who had so readily betrayed him. Then again, he had left them in the first place. But they… they had lied. Or, more accurately, Talia had. She had hidden his father from him for years.
“You are all filth,” Damian spat, “This League is built on lies. Lies that affect even those at the top. It is time for the League to end.”
Damian shakily reached down to pick up his sword.
Suddenly, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned around to see Batman towering over him.
“Drop the sword, Damian,” Batman ordered.
“No.”
“No? Damian, what are you planning to do with that sword?” Batman narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what Damian intended to do.
Damian tossed the sword aside. Batman let his guard down for a split second, letting relief wash over him. At that exact moment, Damian sprang up, smashed his knee against Batman’s face, and snatched up the sword.
“I am sorry, Father,” Damian said, “This must be done.”
Damian rushed into the crowd, swinging his sword wildly. Assassins ducked out of the way and scattered. They could not harm their leader, but they could sure run from him!
Finally, Damian singled out a terrified girl who looked no older than sixteen. She was only slightly taller than Damian, who stood at 5’4”. Her long black hair obscured her face. Damian raised his sword, and tried to bring it down. The sword didn’t budge. He glanced up nervously, and saw Batman gripping the blade.
“Justice. Not vengeance,” Batman said, “These people have done horrible things. But if you kill- if you slice through that girl- you become just as bad as them.”
“I already kill Nyssa,” Damian shot back, “Why stop? I have already crossed that line.”
“I’ve crossed that line before, too,” Batman sighed, “And I learned. I learned from my mistakes. Took myself away from that dark future, and forged my present. You’re up, Damian. What will you choose?”
Damian let go of the sword. The girl turned to sprint away, but Batman grabbed her.
“Just because we won’t kill you doesn’t mean you’re in the clear,” Batman growled in Arabic.
14 YEARS AGO…
Alfred Pennyworth scrambled down the steps of Wayne Manor, and saw the dead body of Alexis Hale. A sword was thrust through it. The color drained from his face. Who had done this? Who had taunted him, leaving him the dead body of his surrogate son’s girlfriend?
Alfred rushed over to Alexis, and cradled her head in his lap. He saw her lips move. She was still alive! But Alfred had to act quickly. He ran his hand through his thinning black hair, and thought about what to do. He had a decent understanding of surgery- one of his many skills.
“Al-” Alexis whispered. Alfred leaned his head down.
“What? What is it? Who did this?” Alfred asked.
“Bruce…” Alexis exhaled.
Alfred nearly fainted. Bruce? Alive? Back in Gotham? A murderer?
“Save your breath,” Alfred ordered, trying to keep his cool. He analyzed the angle of the blade, and the entry point. He rested back on his knees, and closed his eyes. He tried to envision her internal organs, and-
The sword had been put in so as to not hit any important organs. A fluke accident? Or perhaps Bruce had picked up sword fighting in his years away. Yes, that was what Alfred would go with. Bruce hadn’t wanted to kill Alexis. He couldn’t have. He wasn’t a killer. Right?
PRESENT…
“This shall be my final act as Ra’s al Ghul,” Damian stated, addressing yet another crowd of assassins. Batman had helped him round them up.
The corners of Damian’s mouth slowly curled up as he saw the fear in his subjects’ eyes.
“Disband the League,” Damian said, stomping his foot. At that moment, the massive palace behind his, which had once housed the League, exploded. Debris rained down as Damian stretched out his arms. The assassins shrieked, and fled. Damian didn’t move.
Once the rubbled had settled, Batman came up behind Damian.
“I’d say that was a bit more effective than slaughter,” Batman said, “They’ll be too afraid to try to come back together. Your stomp leveled a temple.”
Damian raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine, a whole lot of C4 leveled a temple,” Batman admitted, showing Damian a detonator.
“No killing. No guns. But the destruction of an ancient temple with bombs?” Damian asked, “Hypocritical.”
“Maybe so,” Batman nodded, “Maybe so.”
- - -
She slowly crawled out of the pit. The clear water dripped from her clean body, and back into the pool. She turned around to stare at the pond, and its glowing green base.
A Lazarus Pit.
The girl looked around, searching for her savior. Who had brought her here? Why had she needed to be brought here? She remembered…
Her name was Nyssa al Ghul. She remembered dueling her brother in order to take the throne. Then- nothing. She remembered the fight, but not how it had ended. Had she… lost?
Nyssa looked around more frantically. She needed answers. She raced around the cave, and found exactly what she was looking for. Her head was staked to a rock. It was severed at the neck, a clean cut. Damian.
She would have her revenge.
Suddenly, a hand in a black glove came to rest on her shoulder. Nyssa whipped around to see a man in a gray suit jacket with a white collared undershirt and blood red tie. His slacks were navy blue. On his face was a black oval mask, with hollow eyes.
“Yooooooou feel rage,” the man cooed.
“Who are you?” Nyssa asked with wild eyes.
“I am yoooooour friend,” the man responded, “I will help yoooooou get the revenge yoooou desire.”
“You will help me kill Damian? And restore power to the League?” Nyssa questioned, bewildered.
“If yooou doooooo something fooooor me in return,” the man whispered.
