Quick notes:
Damian Wayne is only his English name that he assumes when he goes to English speaking countries. Damian has had a lot of names, but the name he called himself for the first portion of his life is Arabic. I'm mixing canon with a bit more reality here, as comic books tend to dilute cultures a bit. This will be pertinent to the story, so I'll fill you in here.
Ra's Al Ghul was born in the 14th century (canon compliant) in the city of Shiraz, now located in modern day Iran. Back then, Shiraz fell inter the rule of the Mongol Empire, specifically the khanate Ilkhanate, ruled by the House of Hulagu.
Ra's mothertongue is Persian, or Farsi. But nowadays speaks predominantly Arabic. Thus, so do his family.
Ra's al Ghul is pronounced RAHZ-al-HOOL. For English speakers it's hard to make the proper "h" sound. You need a bit of phlegm. Think kind of German sounding.
Talia al Ghul is pronounced TALLY-an al-HOOL. Same h sound as Ra's.
Ibn al Xu'ffasch is a misleading word to English speakers. It is pronounced BOON-show FAASH-ah.
I try to stick to reality when it comes to important things like culture, language, and religion. The rest is just fun comic book universe stuff.
Feel free to ask if you want to know how to pronounce something.
If you like the Justice League and the hero Captain Marvel, check out my other fic The Homeless Hero.
As always, thank you for reading and I appreciate any reviews!
5:24, 2 September
Prēta Hēḍa Temple, Unknown Location in the Himalayas
League of Assassins Headquarters
"Everything you see before you will soon be yours. Do you understand what it is I am giving you?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Good."
Ra's al Ghul, ancient leader of the League of Shadows, master strategist and tactician, immortal nemesis of the Batman and Father of Assassins, let a small smile grace his ancient, weathered face as he watched his grandson appraise the impregnable walls of the Prēta Hēḍa. Ibn al Xu'ffasch was a masterpiece, one of the best assassins he'd ever trained. And by far the most advanced at the tender age of nine. Ra's dark gaze didn't miss his grandson's cold, calculating eyes darting from vantage point to vantage point, committing the sight to memory. Ra's al Ghul couldn't quite name what he was feeling, but he was fairly sure it was akin to pride.
He would have to punish the boy for it later.
"Grandfather?"
"Hm?" Although the young voice was steady, Ra's al Ghul could feel the hesitation emanating from the boy's small, stiff shoulders.
"Do you have to die for me to come into my inheritance?"
Ra's al Ghul laughed. It was a wicked sound, borne from centuries of darkness.
"No, my child. I have been planning an intricate plot for decades now. When you are ready to take your place as the Demon's Head, you will set in motion a strategy that will give us the world."
The boy seemed satisfied. "Good."
"Where you going to try to kill me if I had said yes?"
A thoughtful expression painted the boy's features as he contemplated the answer. "I wouldn't try anything. I would wait until the right moment to strike, and claim my inheritance."
Ra's al Ghul smiled. It was not a warm expression.
"But I am truly glad that won't be necessary, Grandfather. Together we are much more formidable."
"I agree."
Although his feet made no sound, they both heard the clumsy approach of a trainee.
"Master, we have received warning from the northern outpost. A force approaches."
"Whose is it?"
"We don't kno-"
The trainee choked and couldn't finish his report, blood filling his mouth instead of useless words. Without so much as disturbing the air or even turning to face the boy, Ra's al Ghul flung a dagger, impaling the trainee's throat to the wall behind him. Ibn al Xu'ffasch closed his eyes in exasperation at the boy's fatal mistake. One should know better than to approach Ra's al Ghul without a full report.
"It is Slade Wilson. You are unfit for training. Being unable to see what was right in front of you." Ra's al Ghul sounded only mildly disappointed as he reprimanded the dying man. They waited in silence for him to finish the arduous task of dying. He did not die well.
Finally, as the trainee gurgled his last breath, Ra's spoke directly to his grandson.
"Go to your mother. They want the League. And we are its future, and so we shall part for now-although I don't foresee any difficulties. Fight well."
Ibn al Xu'ffasch was dismissed, that much was clear. He bowed to his Grandfather, and retreated inside the Temple to find his mother. Based on the time it would have taken for the scouts to relay this information, and the tension in his Grandfather's shoulders, he estimated they had ten minutes before Wilson's forces arrived.
He smirked. That was plenty of time.
5:39, 2 September
Prēta Hēḍa Temple, Unknown Location in the Himalayas
League of Assassins Headquarters
It was a pleasant, crisp morning. Perfect for a fight, Ibn mused. He was obeying his grandfather, after a slight delay to the armory. He was trained in all manners of weapons but he preferred the sword. He was a master in every type of swordsmanship known to man, and even some disciplines that were forgotten. Although the katana was the most efficient, the scimitar the most graceful, and the spatha most adaptable, he preferred his twin Khopesh blades. They were brutal, deadly, and beautiful. He grinned in anticipation of using them.
But first, his orders. He needed to find Mother. Ibn was not afraid for himself, his mother, or his grandfather. They were each a formidable opponent. No, this was about efficiency. They needed to rid themselves of these intruders with minimal casualties. The trainees were expendable, but it would take time to gather and train new followers. Time was of the essence.
Talia al Ghul was not hard to find, fortifying the defenses and ordering about trainees.
"Mother."
She nodded in acknowledgement, dark eyes glittering dangerously.
"Are you ready, my son?"
He grinned viciously. "Of course. I'm looking forward to the exercise."
"If you're not fulfilling your potential, I can always send you to climb the Kangchenjunga when we're finished here," his mother said sweetly.
"Not to worry, Mother. I plan on getting a lot of exercise today."
"On guard. Here they come."
Ibn slowed his heartrate, took deep breaths, and listened. His mother was right, he could hear the heavy breaths and light footfalls of their approaching adversaries. He reached for his blades and brandished them, crouching in the cat-like grace the Egyptian Khopesh demanded of him.
The trainees noticed the shift and readied themselves as well. It was a good thing, too, as not moments later, black clad mercenaries burst into the room.
And the fun began.
Ibn al Xu'ffasch leapt forward, whirling. He slashed at knees and calves, and as his opponents collapsed, he'd rip open their throats with the hooks of his blades. Whirling and slashing with the curved edge of his swords, he brought down three Kevlar-clad men before they had time to react. He caught a woman's strike in the crook of one of his swords and spun away, taking her hand in one fluid motion. As she fell to the floor, clutching her bloody stump, he slashed her neck, severing her spine, already forgotten as he faced his next opponent.
The air filled with gunpowder, as Talia al Ghul showed her prowess. She was an expert marksman and had adapted her fighting stance to allow her to use her guns in close range combat as well as long distance sniping. She rammed her pistol into a man's stomach and pulled the trigger, his body jerking as the bullet sunk into his vertebrae. Each bullet was a life in the hands of Talia al Ghul.
With the fighting dying down-and the body count of Ibn al Xu'ffasch was a respectable 27-he launched himself onto one of the remaining mercenaries and brought them down with a few swift cuts. The man fell to his knees, and Ibn stood behind him, the hooks of his blades bricking either side of his jugular.
"Why are you here?" Ibn demanded. "What do you want from us?"
The man grinned, but his eyes were lifeless. "You stupid boy. We were just a distraction. Slade himself is dispatching Ra's al Ghul right now. And then he will take his place as the rightful-"
Ibn dug in the hooks and ripped out the man's vocal cords in one fluid motion. He was running before the body even hit the ground.
He darted across the room, dispatching enemies where needed, heart pounding. Surely his Grandfather was capable of dealing with one misguided protégée? He hadn't survived 600 years for nothing.
"Do not go to him! You are the future!" he heard his mother clearly as he ducked out of the room, but chose to ignore her. She was dealing with the last of the intruders and would follow shortly.
Sprinting through the winding, ancient halls, Ibn was guided by his honed senses to where the fighting was densest. He know Ra's al Ghul would not back down from any challenge and would be in the thick of the battle.
Ibn al Xu'ffasch darted into the Demon Head's receiving chambers, and saw his grandfather's most loyal assassins tearing apart a thicket of highly trained mercenaries. On the far side, on the dais, Ra's al Ghul was battling with a masked man. It was the most impressive display of skill Ibn had ever seen. As he ducked under a bayonet, and jumped over a fallen assassin, his eyes never left this grandfather's whirring sword.
But then, through the crash of steel and constant gunfire he heard a deep voice from behind the mask.
"Why don't we take this elsewhere?"
Slade Wilson turned and activated the secret passageway that led to the secret location of the Lazarus Pit. Nobody knew of its location apart from the topmost assassins. How did he know it was there?
Ra's al Ghul's grin was feral as he launched himself into the darkness, eager to follow his opponent.
The battle was turning in their favor, and Ibn knew the assassins were capable of defeating the remaining mercenaries on their own. He was going after his grandfather.
Ibn trotted silently through the passageway, relying on memory to guide him through the implacable darkness. The air was much cooler in the tunnel, as it sloped into the heart of the mountain. As he neared the Pit, he could hear the clang of steel. Ra's must have reinitiated the fight with Slade Wilson. He increased his pace. Wilson may be formidable, but he would fall against two Master Swordsmen.
The sounds of their battle grew louder and a faint green light filled the passage. Ibn slowed, wanting to assess the situation before interrupting. Grandfather may want a clean kill for himself and only resent his assistance. But as he peered through the passage, the sight that met his gaze had him stop short.
Ra's al Ghul was at Slade Wilson's mercy. His grandfather was kneeling, his sword on the ground out of his reach. Wilson stood before him and had removed his bicolored mask. His face was contorted with rage.
"You can't kill me, boy." Ra's al Ghul spoke with an eerie calm.
Wilson ground his teeth, but smiled savagely.
"Not according to the new rules, old man."
Before Ibn could react, Wilson shoved a glittering dagger into his grandfather's heart. Instead of crumpling to the ground, he surged to his feet.
"You think," he grunted. "That a mere dagger is enough to-"
Ibn watched in horror as Ra's al Ghul's body burst into flame. Even from this distance, he could tell it was no natural blaze. The flames were too red, the inferno whispered prickling thoughts into his head that he couldn't quite understand. It made him feel nauseous in the same way the Lazarus Pit made him weak. It was clear: Wilson had used ancient magic.
Ibn surged from the passageway opening, and raced toward the enemy. Wilson stood, watching as Ra's al Ghul crumpled to the floor, still ablaze. Three meters.
Clang.
So fast that Ibn barely registered the movement, Wilson had unsheathed his sword and met Ibn's strike evenly.
"Hello, little boy. Come to see the show?"
Ibn al Xu'ffasch snarled. He was not a little boy.
They fought. Ibn used every move in his repertoire and even made up some new ones. He whirled, ducked, slashed, and flipped but he could not seem to get the upper hand. Wilson was a formidable opponent. Distracting him with a kick to his knees, Wilson swung his blade down in a powerful arc that would have severed his arm, had he not deflected the motion with the curve of the Khopesh blade. He wasn't quite fast enough and the blade bit into his shoulder. Ibn grunted and dislodged himself from Wilson's grip, dodged another blow, and used Wilson's sword as a springboard.
Ibn slashed as he leapt and was satisfied to feel the hook of his blade drag across flesh. Rolling on impact, he sprung up, preparing for the counterstrike.
It never came.
They faced each other, breathing heavily. He could see Wilson calculating his odds. Fighting Ibn al Xu'ffasch was not going to be quick or easy. Wilson needed to make his getaway before reinforcements could arrive. Their eyes locked, they both ignored Ra's al Ghul's charred body twitched a few paces away, the unnatural fire dying with its kindling.
"Until next time, boy."
Ibn knew how Wilson was going to make his getaway a fraction before he saw the flash of a handful of smoke stones. Covering his mouth and nose as the thick smoke rose in the air, he watched Wilson disappear using the smoke as the cover he needed to escape.
Ibn didn't waste time chasing him. Slade Wilson was long gone. Instead, he turned toward the mangled body of Ra's al Ghul.
"Grandfather!" Ibn crashed to his knees next to the charred body. He wasn't breathing.
His hands shook as he lodged them under his grandfather's body, the skin beneath his fingers crusty and peeling. Blood dripped from his shoulder onto his body armor as he hefted Ra's al Ghul into his arms. He staggered under the dead weight as he marched slowly toward the Pit.
Ibn heard his mother coming long before he saw her. As much as she tried to hide it, he heard her soft intake of breath as she understood the sight before her. A soft weight fell on his shoulder.
"Son. He's gone." His mother's words made no sense. Ra's al Ghul was never gone so long as the Lazarus Pit existed.
"We just need to get him into the Pit, Mother. Grandfather will be fine."
A look of sadness flashed across her face.
"No, Ibn. The magic used to do this can't be undone by the Pit. Put him down."
His head swam as he sunk to his knees. He let his grandfather's corpse thunk to the ground.
"But he said he had a plan. He can't die."
"The plan is still in motion, love. For now, we need to leave."
Ibn looked at her sharply. "Leave? We can't leave. We need to stay and rebuild the League."
"Euyun will take care of that for now. You and I have somewhere we need to be."
The next hours passed in a daze, as Talia managed the assassins and began the cleanup of the Temple. His shoulder had been treated with water from the Pit. He had looked questioningly at his mother as she applied the salve. She usually preferred he suffered his wounds naturally. Something was different this time. That had been hours ago. Ibn watched his mother closely as he cleaned his blades, polishing them of blood and gore. He felt hollow inside.
It was midday when his pack thudded at his feet. He glanced up. His mother was in her night stealth gear. Her own pack was firmly secured to her shoulders.
"Get up, son. Gather the rest of your gear. We leave in half an hour." She grinned at her son, and her teeth glinted in the low light. "Didn't I promise you a climb?"
Ibn al Xu'ffasch sighed as he secured his weapons, and changed into his appropriate climbing gear. He knew he would not return to Prēta Hēḍa for some time if his mother's behavior was any indication.
The room he usually slept in was bare, even with all of his personal effects removed it looked the same. He joined his mother.
"You will come back to this place, my son. But for now, say your partings."
Ibn al Xu'ffasch bowed and murmured a blessing and a farewell to the ancient temple.
Then they melted into the mountainside.
16:52, 2 September
Steep Mountainside, Unknown Location in the Himalayas
Talia al Ghul knew without a doubt that they were after her son. Her father might be immortal and invincible, but that did not mean she should take unnecessary risks. She didn't care that he could come back from death as many times as he chose. She would be damned before she let anyone hurt her son.
Not that he needed protecting. Glancing below her, she watched as he expertly climbed the mountain. Ra's had a plan, but as was his way, he had not shared with her all the parts. She didn't know what Wilson had to do with it, but she was sure her father would rise again to finish what he started.
In the meantime, Talia was going to find the traitors who betrayed the League. The bastards had found their Temple, which alone wouldn't be suspicious. Its general location was known to the select locals who ventured deep into the mountains. They maintained their silence on pain of death. A slow one, at that. It wouldn't be a stretch for the mercenaries to torture the information out of one of them. But that did not account for the fact that Slade Wilson's men knew their way around the Temple. These mercenaries moved too quickly, too casually. They knew the inner passageways and ancient halls.
They were betrayed. And Wilson was after her son.
Talia knew she could not maintain the League while overseeing her son's training and maintaining his safety.
Which left her only one choice.
They were not going to like it.
0:56, 3 September
Unknown Location in the Himalayas
League of Assassins Safe House
"You want me to what?"
"Damian, dear, I know you heard me just fine. Don't be childish. It's beneath you."
"But Mother-"
Crack.
Ibn al Xu'ffasch pressed a hand to his swollen cheek, and swallowed a mouthful of blood. The blow wasn't meant to do serious damage, just humiliate him. It was just unlucky that his mouth had been open in protest when her hand made contact, his teeth easily slicing through his inner cheek. He was mortified that his mother was reduced to treating him like a child.
"You have gone by many names, my son, but it is time for you to claim your father's blood. This name you will keep with you. It belongs to you as much as the name I gave you. Get used to it."
Ibn nodded dutifully. "Yes, Mother."
"Good." Talia bent and kissed his forehead. "Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow we head to Gotham."
Ibn al Xu'ffasch dressed for bed. He only allowed himself to think in English. He had a flawless accent, of course, and spoke with great care. Ra's al Ghul did not permit any sort of half-heartedness within is walls. But it would be a change to speak primarily in English for however many months his mother was planning on dumping him on the other side of the world.
Falling asleep was an easy task for Ibn al Xu'ffasch. It was a skill to be acquired: training oneself to descend into a light sleep that disconnected the mind from the body, allowing an assassin rest unhindered by burdensome night terrors. He dreamt of his Grandfather's death, not an uncommon occurrence for him, because he'd seen it before. But this time was different. The eerie green spirits of the Lazarus Pit, which normally chanted in faint ancient Sumerian, now chanted softly in English as Ra's al Ghul's mangled corpse was grotesquely returned to life.
To an observer, the boy in the bed would look like an ordinary nine year-old: curled on his side, breathing evenly, the innocent puzzled frown of a child furrowing his sleeping face. An observant onlooker might notice that he remained completely, unnaturally still while he slept, the only shift in movement the steady rise and fall of his chest. There was no indication of the morbid specters plaguing his dreams, or the incredible violence of which he was capable. He slept through the night.
When he woke up, he was Damian Wayne.
Find out more about Khopesh at a website called My Armory . com and search for The Khopesh