He panted heavily, sweat falling down his brow and his rough beard catching all of the perspiration. His body ached, mind was heavy and heart was moving faster than anyone's had ever in centuries.
"Do you surrender yet, young man? Do you accept the terms of my training?"
"No!" The man stubbornly replied. Men jumped forward, seven at once, surrounding him. They pressured him, forcing him to shift quick focus between them at milliseconds. He grunted, dispatching them all with quick punches and kicks. His arms and legs were tired, his blue eyes stinging from the sweat clouding the eyes.
"30 hours of fighting my men and don't you see? It never stops, it never ends. They will keep coming, one after another until you kill them. That is the only way. You can never eliminate crime until you kill the ones who have committed it. Kill these men, Bruce."
A tired Bruce Wayne stood in a large cavern, surrounded by several combatants. They were a LOT of unconscious bodies on the floor, all of which Bruce refused to kill. His teacher was pressing him, as a final act of his training, to break the code he had swore never to break – to kill a man. Bruce, however, was never quite keen on breaking that code.
"No… never!"
"Stubborn boy. Don't stop pressuring him… kill him!"
Bruce grabbed one of their staffs, glaring at the men as the climbed down into the pit. "Come on then..." Bruce dared, growling and smiling feral-like. "Come on!"
The men charged him, the first one coming down with a downward strike. Bruce blocked it and redirected him, quickly turning his attention to the next one who tried roundhouse kick him. He blocked this man's foot, kicking him off-balance. The third managed to punch him in the face but Bruce shrugged it off like it was nothing, grabbing the man's shoulder and kneeing him in the rib. The first one to attack came back again, punching at him in several combos. Bruce put his weight on his front leg and shifted out of the way of all of them, using his back leg to cross-kick the man's shin before tripping him and knocking him out with a quick punch.
Two more came down again, intent of fighting him. From atop the ledge, Bruce's master watched, displeased.
"Send in more men!"
"We can't, my master."
"Why?"
"He's beaten far too many and the others have yet to recover. The remaining men are unwilling to fight him."
"What? They will do as they are ordered!"
"They say that they would rather die. He fights like a demon, a monster."
Bruce knocked out the two, making them fall flat on their face.
"They all fear him. None of them think he's human. They think he's… something else."
Bruce smiled to himself, wobbling on his feet as he realized no more would be coming. With that smile on his face, he fell back and his vision faded to darkness.
Bruce's eyes fluttered open to see he was now sleeping in his small hut that he was ordered to make. He and the rest of his Master's students were forced to make small houses made from straw and mud. They were collected outside and then made inside the cavern, their "dojo". Bruce sat up, his body sore and numb. He felt like he had been shot a hundred times over but was somehow still alive. His throat, parched, desired water immensely but Bruce was in no condition to move and could only fall back down to his pillow and sleep.
He ran as fast as he could, refusing to look behind him. His chest moved up and down in an exaggerated fashion. The faster he ran, the harder he breathed. He could see them now – standing in the bright, white light. His parents, loving and waiting. He heard an ear-splitting screech behind him and he knew the darkness was catching up to him. And just as he reached his arm out to the them did the darkness envelop and swallow them, leaving him alone in the black embrace. He didn't know where to look, didn't know where to go. He was scared until, finally, a pair of huge demonic, piercing, glowing red eyes appeared above him. The eyes seemed to be a part of the darkness, attached to it. The eyes glared at him, marking him. The boy shivered in fear as the eyes became smaller but multiplied. The darkness shifted, taking form and unto the form, was the shape of a bat – they swarmed him, surrounded him and engulfed him in their darkness until he could no longer tell what they were or what he was.
They then parted, flying off in separate directions and in the darkness, a mirror was suddenly shown. The boy walked forward and gasped at his sight – he was no longer a man, no longer human. He had transformed into someone else, into something else.
Bruce woke up with a start, sitting up in his tent. He exhaled softly when he realized he was only dreaming. Rising up, Bruce stepped out of his tent and walked over to the waterhole of the cave, scooping up water in his hands and splashing all over his face. His eyes rested on his rippling reflection until the water settled, showing him clearly. Shutting his eyes, he scooped up another handful and wiped his face. When he was finished, Bruce stood up and turned around, coming face-to-face with a certain woman.
"Awake, at last, I see."
"Ever so observant, Sandra."
Sandra Wu-San was an average height woman, with long, shoulder length black hair, brown eyes and ruby lips. She wore a red, Chinese themed vest with black pants and black Chinese shoes.
"I've heard from the Master that you lasted 30 hours this time and without killing someone. You even made them fear you."
A small smirk graced his lips. "Did I?"
Sandra narrowed her eyes at him. "So that is your plan, then? An alternative to killing your opponent, you'll make them fear you instead?"
"It's better than the alternative."
"And so tell me… what do you do to the ones who aren't afraid?"
Bruce looked down at her, staring at her into her eyes. "I fight them until they are."
"How simple-minded you are… You are superior to most fighters yet you hold yourself back because of misplaced compassion. Your talents would be better spent killing those who are inferior, not reveling in letting them live. You hold yourself back with your mercy, Wayne."
She turned and began walking away. "You're lucky that the Master had me run another errand… had I been there, your 30 hours would have been cut down to five minutes."
"Is that a challenge, Sandra?" Bruce baited.
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder, glaring at him competitively. "Of course, American."
The two exited the cave, stepping onto the ledge of the snowy mountain in which they were located in. Bruce put on his small, wool shirt while Sandra glanced up at the top of the mountain, snow falling forth from the sky.
"We shall do battle atop of the very mountain itself. The heavens should be witness to our struggle."
"Fine. Let's go."
Bruce and his female counterpart began making their way to the top of the mountain. The snow picked up, increasing in strength until the howling of the wind made it into a blizzard. Despite this, Bruce and Sandra weren't fazed. Hardened fingers fought through the cold, the two making their way to the top. After the final stretch, Sandra and Bruce stood atop the mountain. Bruce gazed at the view below while Sandra glanced up at the wintery skies.
"Beautiful…" They simultaneously thought of their respective sights.
Bruce sat down and closed his eyes. Sandra glanced down at his movement and instantly understood. It was customary, in this art, to meditate before fighting a worthy opponent. She sat down and crossed her legs, closing her eyes as she followed in suit of Bruce.
Like two spiritual beings of nature, they blended with it and yet, remained apart from it. Their calm minds reached beyond the mountaintops, blocking out the cold and increasing their body temperature. Slowly, they pictured a fire in their mind's eye. This fire became bigger, more intense, more deadly. The hotter the flame, the less the icy cold affected them. Whenever the snowflakes touched their warming skin, the flakes instantly turned to water. Their body heat optimal, the two warriors opened their eyes, sweat falling down their hands.
Sandra stood up first and took off her Chinese vest, pants and shoes, remaining in her sports bra and underwear. Bruce followed suit, taking off his wool shirt and remaining only in his pants.
"Before we begin..." Sandra said, crossing her arms. "Let me ask you something."
"What?" Though they talked casually, their minds were actually intensely focused and still in deep meditation, keeping their bodies warm.
"You claim that you don't kill, opting for fear to defeat your opponents. However, you will not always be able to do that. Should you face an opponent who is not afraid, who threatens to kill someone close to you and who outclasses your merciful fighting technique, what will you do? Will you let someone die to protect your morality?"
"Tell me, Sandra, are you referring to yourself?"
"You're avoiding the question."
"You're avoiding mine." Bruce shot back.
"I asked first." She rebuked.
Bruce faced her fully, staring her down. "I can protect them without killing anyone."
"Can you?" She challenged, facing his stare with a potent glare of her own.
"Yes."
"Hmph!" She scoffed. "You're as naive as a child."
"Why do you care so much?"
"It irks me seeing a fighter willingly suppress his potential. I don't understand it."
"And what did you do to unleash yours?"
"I watched my sister die." She replied coldly.
Bruce retained his stoic face but his voice was slightly softer. "I'm sorry..." He offered quietly.
"I'm not… It set me free, allowing me to understand what I truly am. I'm a fighter, a monster, a killer. If I had known then how free I would feel… I would have killed my sister myself."
Bruce's face contorted into one of subtle disgust. Sandra frowned at his reaction. "Don't look at me like that… As if you don't understand. As if you wouldn't kill somebody to be free of your rage and hatred right now."
Bruce averted his gaze from her and she smiled, gently closing her eyes. "Shall we do battle, Wayne?"
"After you."
The two took up their stances, their cold eyes staying in contact. They circled each other, footprints in the snow. Tense but calm, fluid but firm, the combatants waited for the other to make the first move. The howl of the wind intensified but it fell on deaf ears. Their focus narrowed, their knees bent and eyes connected.
Sandra was the first to attack, aggressively jumping into the air and doing a flying kick. Bruce stepped back, blocking the attack and retaliating with a side kick to the side. She shifted her body, spinning and throwing a backhand strike to his face. Bruce blocked the attack, redirected her arm and palm striking her in the side.
She stumbled back, brushing it off. "Hn… Not bad."
Bruce went on the offensive and Sandra's eyes narrowed in focus. He started with a hard body shot but she blocked the punch with her arm, coming back at him with a shin kick to his leg. Resisting the urge to cringe, Bruce dropped his center and threw an elbow strike to her stomach. She turned in the direction of his hips, kicking him in the neck. The blow was powerful enough to knock him down in the snow.
Recovering with a roll, Bruce retained his kneeling position for a moment, glancing up at Sandra, who beckoned him confidently with the wagging motion of her finger.
"She's reading my moves… Using the ability she developed with her years of training… Fine, two can play at that game..."
Bruce stood up, closing his eyes and concentrating. Sandra's eyebrows raised in perked interest.
"What's this, Wayne? Are you getting serious?"
Bruce opened his eyes, his face an intense veil of concentration. His ocean blue eyes seemed to almost glow as he took up his stance. Smirking, Sandra ran up and prepared to perform a hook kick. Predicting this, Bruce grabbed her leg when she launched it and threw her over his hip, into the snow.
Sandra backrolled and stood up, facing him once more. Bruce merely stood there, watching her like a patient predator.
"I can see it… every move, every twitch of your muscle… I can see it!"
Unbeknownst to them, they silently thought the same thing and ran forward, colliding with a roundhouse kick. Bruce began launching a flurry of quick jabs and punches at Sandra, who blocked them all with expert parrying before Sandra returned the favor, using her quick hands to attack Bruce, who too showed proficiency at deflecting her strikes. The exchange went back and forth like this, the two martial artists fighting with an increased intensity and tempo no one could see or keep up with. With every punch, kick and blocked strike, the two became more engaged, more lost in the fight.
They enjoyed it, Bruce secretly so. The adrenaline pumping, the feeling of fighting and putting yourself, your skill, on the line to the test. It's something he refrained from doing but never backed down from when given the chance and this was one of those times.
After their exchange, Bruce deflected one of her finger jabs and double palm striked her in the chest, launching her back into the snow. The power was so great that snow around him uplifted slightly.
Lying in the snow, Sandra panted as Bruce walked over, breathing hard as well, and held his hand out. Sandra scoffed at him, smirking.
"What are you holding your hand out for? You're going to cough blood and collapse soon yourself."
"Wha-"
Just as predicted Bruce coughed up blood and collapsed to his knee. Sandra rose up, resting one on knee as well.
Bruce chuckled, wiping the blood away. "Shall we call it a draw?"
Though tired and panting, Sandra too had an uncharacteristic smile on her face. "Yes… I think we'll settle this another time."
The two sat on the snow, a few feet from each other. Bruce held his head back while Sandra kept hers down, staring at the bright, white snow.
"So?" Sandra began, her breath slowing.
"What?" Bruce asked, still looking at the sky. The blizzard had died down, the clouds simply releasing snow now.
"Did you feel it? The killer's intent? When we clashed blows, did you feel the urge to use the deadly moves that you were taught? Did you want to kill, Wayne?"
Bruce's breath slowed, his eyes still resting on the sky. "Don't mistake the meaning of my words, Sandra… I've felt it. I always feel it. You weren't wrong… I do want to kill, to eliminate those who take families, who rape and murder… who do injustice to others. But I can't be that. I made a promise not to be that."
"How sentimental… it's what makes you weak and it is what will ultimately keep you from transcending yourself. You will always remain a man so long as you uphold the beliefs of one. If you want to be feared, you have to be a natural force. A warrior of God Himself."
Bruce glared down at her. "You're nothing but a killer… why should I listen to a word you say?"
"The only difference between you and I is that I channel my rage and use it. You let it poison you, allowing it to manifest in your mind. You allow your demons to control you because you refuse to release them. Someday, someone will come along and push you into the abyss… then you will see the limit of your bottle."
"We're nothing alike..." Bruce whispered.
They were closer now, their faces inches apart. He didn't know when he moved, he didn't know when she moved but they were staring into each other's eyes deeply.
Sandra softly kissed him, pecking him softly before placing her lips on him more firmly. She brought herself closer to him, her hands around his neck. The two parted, foreheads touching each other and eyes in a deep trance. Sandra slowly pushed him to ground, laying on top of him.
"If you truly believe that we are nothing alike, if you truly, absolutely believe with strengthened conviction that you will never kill and that you will never allow this darkness to consume you… if you have no doubt and unsurety resting in your heart… then push me away..." She whispered sultrily to him. She kissed him again and Bruce's hand reached up to her body but instead of pushing her away, he brought her in closer.
"Damn you..." Was the last thought he properly processed.
A Month Later
She sat in the restaurant, wearing her standard outfit with a black coat and gloves. Sitting near the window, her eyes restlessly looked out the glass at the passing people of Hong Kong. The door to the restaurant opened, a jingle heard from the bell above it. A man with short gray hair, who wore a thick black coat, walked in. He immediately took notice of Sandra and walked over to her, sitting opposite to her at the table.
"So… you came." The man started.
"I've thought about it… I'll consent to your request if you find what I need."
"Yes… I thought you didn't care about her… your sister, I mean.
"I still care about what happens to her body. Find me who robbed her grave and when I bear the child that is growing inside of me, you can have it."
"How far along are you?"
"One month..." She drew out slowly.
"Who's the father?"
"No one you need to know."
The man just chuckled snidely. "The man who stole your sister's body is a very dangerous man. So dangerous that if he wanted, he could topple the Chinese, Russian and American governments in one fell swoop if he wanted."
"Then why hasn't he?"
"He has bigger plans."
"I don't care about his plans. Who is he?"
The man smiled at her darkly. "They call him the Demon. If you seek him, go to the heart of the Tibetan mountains and see him. If he doesn't kill you, consider yourself lucky."
Sandra simply scoffed, before standing up and preparing to leave.
"The man who fathered your child… what type of person was he? There's no point in taking your child if I'm getting a deficient one."
Sandra glanced down at him with a faraway look in her eye. "He was a skilled martial artist with potential unrivaled. He had the ability to see through any illusion, the power to snap trees in half and the willpower to keep restraint when it is foolhardy to do so. We trained together, learning few of each other's personal history yet learning an abundant amount of techniques from the other simply by observation. From him, I learned when to strike and hold back. From me, he gained the foreknowledge of how an opponent would attack, to read them like a book though I suspect he will suppress this ability for his own reasons. So believe me, Cain, when I tell you… this child will be far from deficient."
She began walking toward the door with the man known as 'Cain' speaking out one last time.
"Tell me… Lady Shiva… did you love this man?"
She stopped just before leaving the restaurant. She neither turned nor walked forward but simply said, "I have never loved a man before him and I will never make the mistake of loving another thing after him."
With that, Shiva exited the restaurant, leaving the man sitting alone. He smiled to himself, gleeful and dark.
A.N.: Alright, nice short one-shot for you guys. Yes, I am taking the N52 feat of Batman fighting for 28 hours and increasing it to 30 because I feel like it. And yes, this story, like all my Adventure Chronicles stories, is not just a fluff, fits in my main series and it will be used later in the main Chronicles series and I'm sure you smart people can guess how it will be used. If you want to keep up with more stories like this, follow me! Let me know if you like this story as there are more coming up with yet another female you would never think of him hooking up with! Until next time people!
Green out.