So first of a huge shout out to Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt without her inspiration and help this story would have never got off the ground so be sure to thank her for co-writing this story with me by checking out all her amazing stories and reviewing them! And now on to the part you've all been waiting for the debut of Shattered enjoy the ride! Warning for Language and Violence...
The air ducts of the Al Ghul palace were designed specifically to prevent outsiders from using them as a means to spy on the League of Shadows and as such Jason was barely able to move his large frame through them. It was a constant fight blocking out that small voice in his head that panicked at being confined. It attempted to drag him back into the dark, damp coffin that reeked of rot and death. Dreams of his nails being ripped off as he tried to claw his way out of the wooden box, his lungs screaming for air, returning to suffocate him.
Jason wanted to shout but he couldn't, not without risking discovery. He shook his head to free himself of his fear. It haunted him still . . . hit him at the most inconvenient of times – like now. But Jason refused to relive the tortures he had experienced at the hands of that blasted clown. Too many nights he spent waking up to the sound of Joker's laughter rattling around in his head, the searing memories of his flesh burning, and explosions ripping him apart during that final moment. He has already spent too much time fighting off the phantom pain of broken bones and flashbacks of the excruciating bite of that clown's beloved crowbar.
No . . . Jason was here to get payback.
It was Ra's fault . . . All of it! That he had died, that he had been at the untender mercy of that clown, his subsequent murder, the indignity of being dragged out of his grave only to toss him into the cursed Lazarus Pit. Jason had been reborn into madness, only to left by Ra's to fight his way towards some semblance of sanity.
To this day Jason was tormented by what he had done while engulfed in the madness; haunted by the memories of his attempt to murder the only man willing to be a father to him; of tearing a bloody path through Gotham; the carnage of his passing, the proof of his return. And then there was the Joker . . . laughing, always laughing but this time he was laughing at what Jason had become: a pathetic excuse of a human being. The crazed clown had been smug when talking of what Jason had wrought upon his return, the blood on Jason's hands being a mere extension of the madman's own. Was that a bit of paternal pride in his voice? Jason couldn't decide but just the thought of it made him want to puke.
Why couldn't he have just been left in the ground, dead, like he was meant to be? His life, and everything related to it, was now in shambles.
Once the pit's madness had quelled and he had been able to think more clearly, Jason had discovered all the pain that had occurred in time between his death and his resurrection. He had apparently been replaced with a new Robin while he had been gone. And then, Dick Grayson, the first Robin, the guy he had just begun to think of as maybe a brother before he had kicked it, was wallowing in grief over the death of his best friend, unable to pull himself out of his funk.
It was pitiful, really . . . two years and the guy was still almost in as bad a shape as Jason was. Nightwing had practically saved the earth single-handedly and yet Dickhead was paralyzed with guilt, all because of a few lies. People actually had the gall to nitpick over how he did it! But then Dick was always one to take all the responsibility onto his own shoulders. The guy obviously had some kind of complex or something. Jason was pretty sure he could blame it on Bruce with only a little effort.
Bruce . . . Jason cringed when he remembered facing Batman in that abandoned apartment with the Joker bound on the floor at their feet. Thinking back, he should have gagged the psychopath while he had been at it. It likely wouldn't have taken so long for the madness to have cleared from his mind if he had. And then Jason had realized what he had been asking Bruce to do, to go against the one unbreakable rule the man had in his obsessive quest for justice, the one thing he had ground into him from day one . . . him, Dick, and probably the replacement, too.
He had ran, fled like a scared child. He didn't know where he had been going, just away, from the apartment, from the Joker, from Batman . . . and his shame. Ironically, where he had ended up had been cowering in the filth of Crime Alley, the place where his life had begun. Of all the people who might have found him, who perhaps should have found him, in the end it had been Artemis.
She hadn't questioned how or why he was back, just took him to her mother's apartment and cleaned him up, fed him. And then she explained everything . . . how Tim had become Robin, how Wally had been taken from them all because of a plot that Ra's had helped Vandal Savage to create, how Dick had been basically crippled by the death of his friend as though losing the speedster had been the final straw that broken him. As a result, Dick has shut himself off from everyone, throwing himself into his work as a beat cop for Bludhaven PD and, if Nightwing appeared at times, the hero was sloppy and reckless.
Jason came to the realization that night that everything that had gone wrong was because of Ra's. All the pain and suffering that he had endured could be laid upon the Demon's head. The pain and suffering that still others were forced to endure was Ra's fault as well. He had determined then that Al Ghul was going to pay and Jason was the one that would hand him his receipt.
A low growl ripped it way up his throat as Jason continued on his mission, forcing his way through the too-tight air ducts until familiar voices grabbed his attention. He followed it.
"Neither the detective nor his eldest have discovered Vandal's secret, I see."
Ra's . . . He focused on moving forward and listening intently to the words that were drifting through the vent. His heartrate increased and the dark stain on his soul lurched in an effort to rip away Jason's control. For one tense moment, it took every ounce of his strength to push it back down, holding the madness at bay until he could calm himself.
"Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father," a woman said. Talia. "Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster's return."
Speedster? Artemis had told him that Barry was still the Flash, still with the League. There was some new speedster from the future, too. Impulse, or some such title . . A kid, really. Could they be talking about him? But no, he had heard reports about the new sidekick as recently as last week and knew the kid had taken Wally's place with the Young Justice team shortly after the redhead's death.
A vent cover lay just ahead and Jason angled himself so he could see the room's occupants.
"Yes, yes, I am aware. Do the heroes mourn him still?" Ra's asked with mild curiosity.
"It would appear so. You know, if Savage continues to have his way, they will be fighting their friend once Savage manages to pull him free of the speed force." Talia murmured. "The immortal claims that in only a few days he will have speedster in his possession. Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit and then, he can be molded into a soldier of the Light."
Jason waited for Ra's to reply but he was interrupted by the opening of a door. A child, no older than five, entered at a run.
"'Am 'ana hazamah," the boy said in Arabic.
"Wala bd li 'an 'adhkur lakum, Damian, 'ann al'abatirat la taemal," Talia said, not unkindly.
"Aghfir li, al'umm," the boy nodded.
The only word Jason was able to translate was 'mother'. He stifled a snort, wondering what poor bastard was stupid enough to sleep with Talia. Shoving the thought aside for what he deemed was the more important information, Jason ran through everything he had just overheard. As the two adults followed the child out of the room, they left their undiscovered visitor reeling.
Jason had not only uncovered a previously unknown plot by the notorious Vandal Savage, but thought he might have also discovered something even bigger. The speedster they were speaking of could have only been one person . . .
Jason scrambled to pull a couple of transmitters from his belt to leave behind. They were new technology he had picked up on his most recent scavenger hunt through Wayne-Tech's R&D department. If Bruce was aware of Jason's occasional forays through the department's goodie bag of upgraded Bat-toys, he never let on. In any case, there might be a chance to catch some other tidbit before Ra's was able to find Jason's little parting gifts.
The man really should thank him. Jason had been here to blow Ra's and his entire compound to smithereens, after all. At least, he had been planning to do that . . . Now, however, Jason had more important things he needed to do. Finding Dickhead was in the number one spot on his new list of priorities.
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