The modern world had subjected Suren to many humiliating experiences, but the dentist was easily the worst. Suren was not certain which was more terrible: the plasticine throne, which tipped its victims backwards with a whirr of cogs, the ill-fitting uniforms with obnoxious patterns, or the attempts from the teeth tenders to speak to him while they had their hands in his mouth.
"Where do you go to school?" the teeth tender said, cheery.
"I do not go to school," Suren said.
"That's cute." The teeth tender pulled her fingers out of Suren's cheek, shuffling to a nearby counter. Suren gagged on the taste of latex. "Do you enjoy being homeschooled, honey?"
"My family can eradicate your lineage from existence. I could floss with your entrails."
The teeth tender turned around from the counter. She held a whirring, quivering tool that sounded like a nest of furious hornets and looked like an instrument from Den Darga's torture chamber. Suren knew it was going in his mouth.
"What was that?" she said.
"Nothing," Suren said.
As a result, Suren left the dentist office with a fixed tooth, a useless goody bag, and a new resentment towards teeth tenders. He also hated the space demon that much more. His skull ached. His jaw ached, numbly. His collar ached. Suren rapped his fingers on the car door as head servant Pennyworth drove him back to the manor. Whenever he glanced at his reflection, he saw the red scar that cut through his eyebrow and part of his hairline.
Maya would say I look cooler, he thought. Or that I look more ridiculous. Either one. Suren dug a smiling tooth sticker out of his bag. He shredded it. Suren watched the pieces drift to the car floor, feeling a hint of satisfaction. Anger stuck in his throat. It congealed with stale fear. Suren avoided looking at Pennyworth. He did not want to wish ill upon him for no reason.
Thankfully, Pennyworth had his sunglasses on, and it prevented he and Suren from making eye contact. Suren crossed his legs, restless. Traffic honked around them. Storefronts glowed with life. The clock read 6 AM. Dawn had broken, casting its dew across Gotham.
It did not erase the humiliation of last night.
Suren Darga, personally trained son of Den Darga himself, warlock-in-training, the heir of a line as ancient as the Al Ghuls, had lost to a space demon. A hurt, panicky space demon. The idea was a superheated ball of metal that sat in Suren's mind, sinking deeper and deeper in as time went by. His father's voice had been silent since he awoke from his unconsciousness. Suren knew it was not due to a lack of opinions. It was because his father's sole feeling was a dim lake of disappointment.
I do not care if the space demon is called a Tamaranean, Suren thought. I do not care what the Wayne-Al Ghuls think of me. I do not care what they are planning. This is my mission now. I will see it through.
Suren Darga was not allowed to fail. The last time he had done so, it had resulted in the end of his world and the doom of his father. It had changed everything. Suren had survived by being in the company of friends - the first ones he had ever made.
He did not want to consider what failure looked like here.
Last night:
Suren staggered through the woods, fighting off his dizziness. His collar clanked with pain whenever he moved his arm. Blood dripped down his forehead. Suren did not need Oracle to tell him his collar bone was broken. He spat tooth splinters out onto the litter and pine needles, coughing. The cough shook his fractured bone. Suren wanted to magic it all away.
But the healing spell wasn't working.
Suren was not a healer. He could use approximately one healing spell, and not on other people. Den Darga had wanted Suren to take care of himself. He had not indulged his son in softer arts otherwise. To feel healing magic crackle through his fingers, Suren needed to pull on strings deep inside himself, close his eyes, and imagine every spider web of the healing rune. Not a single one could be out of place.
Suren's concussion destroyed that focus.
So Suren limped up to the highway, numb with adrenaline, arm trembling. His magic fell between his fingers as if it were sand. I don't understand why it's not working, Suren kept thinking. I don't understand why it's not working. His thoughts fractured.
Suren hitchhiked into Gotham after four failed attempts to get a ride. From a truck cab seat, he watched the city slide by in nauseating spirals of taillights, stoplights, safety tape, and bustling storefronts. Then it all turned to reflective glass, advertisements, pirouetting gargoyle fountains, and upper class laughter. Suren choked down his vomit. This was worse than one of those obscene country fairs. He wiped tears from his face when they passed the Lebanese bakery - still closed - and a speed bump smacked his shoulder against the truck door.
The modern world was big and shimmery and it didn't speak his language and Suren missed bowls of dates and dry mountain palaces and أَذَان in the morning and Damian's suggestions weren't enough and he wanted to go home. Even though it and his father were gone.
I hate everything, Suren thought.
After he made it back to Wayne Manor, everything was a haze. Batgirl and Black Bat brought him in, their anger dissipating into concern and questions. He handed over his phone and unused sample kit. They assessed his injuries. They gave him medicine. Ice, for his cheek. Batgirl made him lay down. Suren fell asleep on a Batcave cot. He drifted in and out of conscious. Batgirl's and Oracle's voices were low. At one point, Suren heard Damian's father.
At 3 AM, Suren awoke in a sweat, swimming in painkillers. Black Bat was nearby. So was Damian's father. Together, Suren decided, their silhouettes resembled a scorpion and a brick standing side by side. They did not see Suren. They were looking at the Batcave's big screen. The photographs the demon had accidentally taken with Suren's phone were on full display.
Suren focused on the demon's face until he saw double. Magic sparked at his fingertips. His collarbone wove back together, prickling beneath his skin. Suren tasted his cracked tooth as the fog lifted from his brain. The ice pack beneath his cheek wilted. He threw the stupid hat the Waynes had given him onto the floor. As Black Bat turned around, Suren hopped off his bed.
You're never humiliating me again, he thought, glaring at the demon's image.
(Selfie, a memory of Maya said in the back of his head. It's a selfie).
"Suren?" Batman said.
"I am going to finish this," Suren said. "The Tamaranean is mine."
"Sit down," Batman said. "Healing spell or not, you're injured. You need to take this one step at a time. We need to gather more information on what happened."
"I know enough," Suren said.
"No killing," Black Bat said.
"Yes killing," Suren said. "Now is the time for it."
"No!"
"Yes!"
Suren did not finish his argument with Damian's best sister because his tooth cracked again. His vision blurred. "! تَبًّــــــــــا" he said.
Instead of plotting his vengeance in his room at 4 AM, Suren ended up plotting it at the dentist.
"In essence," Oracle said, "there were two comets. The main one, the Tamaranean space pod, crashed in Gotham. The second one landed in New Mexico. The Justice League believes it slipped through their radar at first due to its much smaller size."
"Small objects can be dangerous," Suren said. "They did a bad job."
"They have an infinity of other issues to be worried about," Batman said. "The tower cannot look everywhere." Batman stepped closer to the blue diagrams on the screen as Oracle pulled them up. He was a black and blue mountain. "Given the second comet's size, it's likely a piece of the broken pod."
"Agreed," Oracle said. "Maybe part of the outer shell. Or landing gear."
"But the League did allow a security breach," Red Robin said. "Suren has a point. We need to speak to them."
Suren mentally moved Red Robin up from 'Damian's least favorite sibling' to 'Suren's second-favorite Wayne.' Red Robin looked too pallid to be called a Wayne-Al Ghul.
At 7 AM, the Batcave was almost full. Batman, Oracle, Red Robin, Suren, and Black Bat all clustered around its hub of chairs, teal screens, and keyboards. Stalactites hung above them. Next to the communication hub, and over a ridge, stalactites bloomed out of a dark underground lake. The Batstrike floated next to a dock nearby. Everywhere Suren looked, there was another pit of cave darkness or a platform stuffed with vehicles and oddities. It was impossible to tell it was dawn outside.
There are not enough torches and chained-up skeletons of fallen enemies, Suren thought. This place is too full of screens and wire. The display cases are fine.
"I'll handle that," Oracle said. "Tim, you need to contact Blue Beetle. After that, get a hold of Nightwing. See if Starfire has told him anything. If our other source is open… use him. We need to find out why a young Tamarean would take refuge on Earth."
"On it," Red Robin said.
He swept off to another platform in the cave, his cape flowing behind him. Suren tried not to scowl in impatience. Oracle, Black Bat, and Batman remained present. Batgirl had been filled in before she left to work.
"So what is happening now?" Suren said. "Where is the Tamaranean?"
Cave rock pressed cold shapes into the back of his calf. Suren adjusted his position again. He was sitting on the ledge in front of the underground lake only because Oracle had asked him not to. Black Bat ruined his rebellion by perching next to him. She made balance seem effortless. Suren endeavored not to look at her, mostly due to the cat she held. Damian's feline Alfred kept glaring at him. It was annoying.
"We don't know that yet," Oracle said. "But we can make a guess. Around 2 AM, the situation grew more complicated."
With a few flicks of her fingers, Oracle pulled up grainy footage. Suren recognized the highway outside of Gotham. Police sirens cast their red and blue lights on the pavement. Some weeds waved from behind a guard rail. None of the cars were on screen. Suren guessed they were below, where the woods began.
"Shortly after Suren fought the young Tamaranean," Oracle said, "Gotham PD arrived on the scene. They set up a parameter around the crater. They also saw signs of the pod leaving the crater, dragging debris as it went. Several officers went looking for the ship. Around 1:30 AM, they found it. Bruce and I were tied up in Justice League communications and safety patrols when they called. They told us they had set up a guarded parameter around the ship. Steph went to investigate."
Headlight beams split the grainy footage. A rusted minivan with a papered-over license plate rumbled out of the woods, emerging from the bottom of the screen. Suren did not need knowledge of vehicles to tell the minivan was in awful shape. A huge lump rested in the back, covered by a tarp. It tilted the minivan as it rolled around. It was impossible to see the driver. As Suren watched, the minivan spun its wheels, throwing dirt as it climbed onto the highway.
Batgirl sprinted into view with her flax hair flying as the minivan's wheels found purchase on the asphalt. She hurled a batarang at the back window. It bounced off, leaving a web of cracks behind it. Undeterred, Batgirl leapt towards the van, aiming to grab onto the back; at the same time, the van wheezed exhaust, throwing itself into reverse. Batgirl rolled over the van's top. Suren bet she was cursing. Batgirl flipped off the van, sticking her landing.
The minivan sped out of the frame in reverse. Skid marks smoked in its wake. Batgirl stood in the middle of the road, watching it. In the grainy video she resembled a spectre. Oracle stopped the footage.
"Right before Steph arrived, someone attacked the officers guarding the pod," Oracle said. "All of them are currently in the hospital. They described it as an 'abomination' - " She grimaced. " - that was four times the size of a human being, if not larger. Bruce, its description is relevant to your interest. I'll send you the files. But, in short, the creature did not speak to them. It incapacitated them all, grabbed the pod, and left."
Oracle flicked to an image of misshapen human footprints in the grass. Batman exhaled.
"Was that another monster?" Suren said.
"No," Batman said. "But the pod thief was a metahuman."
"Other footage shows two people in the vehicle," Oracle said. "None of them are clear enough to determine if the Tamarean is a passenger. But we can assume she is. If so, her new friend has already given her clothes to disguise herself with."
"Sticker," Black Bat said, making Suren jump.
Oracle gave her a tired smile full of warmth. "Very astute, Cass."
Oracle rewound the footage. Suren squinted at the patches of color on the minivan bumper. Alfred the cat spilled from Black Bat's arms, landing on the floor and trotting away. Batman was rigid.
"I do not understand," Suren said. "What is the significance of 'I heart Parr Row'?"
"Park Row," Oracle said. "It means this is a van from Crime Alley. The culprit is likely hiding there."
Batman and Oracle looked at each other as though there was a bubble between them, and the slightest misstep would shatter it forever.
"What is your point?" Suren crossed his arms, pulling a foot up so Alfred the cat could not touch it.
Oracle sighed. "It means that you and Black Bat may be investigating Crime Alley. But Bruce and I need to speak for a minute. In private."
Suren was tired of all the speaking. When he had ruled his father's army, he lorded over most declarations and discussions. He had never waited on the whims of others. But this was a new world.
"About what?" Suren said, daring to prod Oracle.
"Red Hood," Batman said.
Suren sensed Batman and Oracle's exhaustion. It reminded him of the heaviness in the room whenever he had eavesdropped on Father and Father's generals. When he had not been certain if Father was proud or ashamed of him.
That was Father's version of the scimitar, Suren thought, that hung over the peasant's head by a thread when he sat in the throne for a night. It made sure I never enjoyed myself fully. It taught me what it meant to be a prince. To be a Darga.
Oracle and Batman appeared less tense than Den Darga and his generals. Whoever or whatever they wanted to speak of was not present. The scimitar hung over them. They were sad and uncertain. They were missing someone. Suren tasted phantom fig juice and understood. Begrudgingly. For a moment, he felt bad for Oracle.
Assert yourself, Den Darga's voice whispered. Do not let the cripple command you.
"We are going," Suren said.
"Alfred, come," Black Bat said.
Suren and Black Bat left the communication hub. The cat followed til it became bored. Then it attacked Suren's ankle.
The first action Suren took after prying Alfred off his leg was to sprint up a floor and make a phone call. Oracle had gotten his cellphone to function again after its destruction, even if the screen remained broken. Suren forced himself to press the pane of broken glass to his face. Time to see if Maya gave me the correct number, he thought.
After four rings, the receiver picked up.
"Hello?"
The sleepy voice on the other end sounded ready to collapse. Suren glanced at the clock. It was 7:30 AM. It was not early. He prayed it was not a mistake to call someone he had only met twice before.
"Jon, this is Suren. Damian and Maya's friend."
"Oh!" Jon's voice brightened. "I remember you! We kicked butt against Poison Ivy. That was great, by the way. How's it going, Suren?"
"Well enough." Suren found himself staring at a potted plant. The abyss called. What did he say? "How are… you?"
"Sleepy. Just got up." Jon shuffled. "Saturdays are usually for sleeping in, Suren. Is, uh, something happening?"
"Yes," Suren said. "A Tamaranean has invaded Gotham. I will be facing them. I do not know what to expect."
Batman and Oracle had debriefed him, but much had gone unsaid. Suren did not trust them to mention everything. He was at building block one of understanding space demons, and he needed to acquire information they knew by heart.
"So that's what the commotion last night was. Hey! That's my sock! Stop it!"
"What?"
"Sorry. That was Krypto. He's a morning dog." Jon yawned. "Anyway, 'm in Metropolis right now, but I could fly over to help look, if you want."
"I do not need help," Suren said, finally, after considering the idea. He should be able to do this himself. Jon was Maya and Damian's friend anyway, not his. "But I want to know Tamaranean weaknesses. If you can hear it present in Gotham around Park Row, tell me. It may have stolen a car earlier to transport its pod."
"It?"
"Her," Suren said.
"Okay. I got you," Jon said. The drowsiness was leaving his tone. "Give me a minute."
Suren waited. He crouched to observe the pattern on the glazed plant pot. When Alfred the cat traipsed around the corner, Suren stared him down until he left. I am not in the mood to fight Damian's cat, Suren thought, watching the black and white tail retreat around the corner. The scratches on his leg were not the first ones Alfred had given him for existing. Suren tried breathing light in Jon's presence.
"I can't tell exactly where the Tamaranean is," Jon said. "But I know she's around Park Row. Maybe south of that. I heard grumbling about a car thief, and lots of clanking metal. Does that sound right?"
"It does," Suren said.
Jon rattled off a basic list of Tamaranean weaknesses and affinities. On occasion, Suren heard him talking to his dog, or to an unseen parent. He wondered if Superman could hear everything being said. Suren bet he did. He chewed on his tongue to avoid telling Jon to hurry up. Footsteps climbed the staircase next to him.
"That's about it," Jon said. "Hope that helped. Call me if stuff gets crazy."
"I will," Suren lied.
"Do you want to hang out sometime? We can. I wanted to talk to you more, but I only saw you around Damian and Maya. You could come to Metropolis for a while. The historical museum has lots of swords. If that sounds cool to you."
"I have to go."
Black Bat was around the corner but the words fled Suren's mouth before he could see her.
"Oh," Jon said. "Okay. See you later, Suren. Good luck."
"Yes. See you later, Jon. Thank you. Goodbye."
"Bye."
Suren fumbled to hang up his phone. His face burned. Jon managed to hang up first. Suren shoved his phone into his pocket as Black Bat beckoned to him. They descended back into the Batcave. Suren was relieved when the cave breeze cooled his face.
Modern communication, he thought, is difficult.
One seal of approval from Red Hood later, and Suren and Black Bat were in the Crime Alley area. Suren kept his hand on his sword as they slipped through the crowded street. He was grateful for his jacket and sherwal, even though the sun was out.
The Park Row offshoot bustled. Small children played around a broken fire hydrant, shrieking. Litter floated down the flooded gutter as they laughed. A loud family swarmed a Greek food stand nearby. Countless other food stands propped themselves up along the streets, all held together by spit and prayers. Suren made a mental note to visit them when he wasn't on a mission.
"I do not understand," Suren said, stalking past a gaggle of teenagers. He coughed when smoke from their cheap cigarettes blew into his face. "Why was Red Hood so adamant about not letting Batman come here? There is nothing more he could damage."
"Complicated," Black Bat said. Without her cowl, her black hair shimmered in the sun. She waved at the children that went by. They pointed at the golden embroidered shurikens on her tank top. She looked tempted to join the crowd in the fire hydrant spray.
"It always seems to be," Suren said.
Black Bat pointed down a street. "I hear cars. Lots of stealing there. Let's go that way."
After squeezing around an elote stand and a dumpster, they cut through an alley to another street. The historical landmarks were fading. Cement and beaten road signs crept onto the scene among the old buildings. Pigeons nested on top of bird spikes, sleepy. The entire block was a patchwork of businesses, pawn shops, and loan forgiveness outlets. A broken bike lock with no bike hung from a bench outside the library.
Suren checked his phone. They were south of Park Row, but not as far as Jon had recommended.
"We should head down one more block," he said.
"Lead the way," Black Bat said.
The next alley was thinner. Spirals of graffiti on its walls veered from friendly to threatening in a mobius loop of art. Rats foraged in a tipped over trash can. Flies buzzed. A battered telephone pole bolstered thousands of rotting staples and rain-stained MISSING posters of children and pets alike. A red bat symbol half the size of Suren was stenciled onto one wall. BETTER RED THAN DEAD, the spray paint scrawl beneath it read. The chalk outline of a man faded on the ground below.
Black Bat sighed.
Suren jumped from a dumpster onto the nearby fire escape to navigate past the trash piles he was too short to wade through. Black Bat landed behind him without a sound or shiver of the walkway.
"You are eerie," Suren said, looking over his shoulder.
"I do my best," Black Bat said.
They were about to descend and move onto the next street when they heard arguing in the adjacent apartment window.
"Listen. I don't have the money early. You can't take my rent from me. Please…"
"You're gonna give it over whether you like it or not."
Furniture crashed over. Black Bat was already on her feet, finding the apartment. Suren cracked his knuckles.
"It seems our interference is needed," he said.
"No killing," Black Bat warned.
Suren drew his sword, gently testing the edge on his palm. "Do I look like an indiscriminate murderer of criminals?"
"Yes," Black Bat said. She tapped Suren's forehead. "Even though you are not an illiterate murder."
At least Black Bat endeavored to be honest, questionable vocabulary aside. Another piece of furniture crashed over. Black Bat had a foot on the fire escape railing, crouched like a panther, but she kept staring at Suren. He rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword.
"I will not use my sword to kill anyone," Suren said. "Or my dagger. Let's go."
Black Bat grinned before pulling up her mask.
"Let's," she said.
They leapt through the window.
AN: The parable Suren references is The Sword of Damocles.
