A Night in the Labyrinth of Light
Bruce reached out for something to grab, something to slow his fall, but found nothing. The chute itself was around 20 feet wide in every direction, large enough to encompass the majority of the assassins caught in the trap.
It had all happened so fast. The tensions between Ra's and Kathryn had escalated so quickly.
What was he thinking bringing them here?
Where was this plan Ra's had claimed he had?
If this was it, needlessly leading half his army into a death trap, then maybe Bruce should've been the next Demon's Head after all.
This was it, he couldn't see the bottom, but he was certain it was approaching.
What a lame way to die.
And the worst part, he hadn't even been able to identify Selina amongst the Court.
Even if a battle had broken out above, he wouldn't have been able to find her. He was a fool for thinking it'd be so easy.
He held his breath; they'd been falling for a solid 3-4 seconds, so the end was surely near.
But it wasn't.
Another second passed, and then another, and then, Bruce felt another Assassin grab him, slowly moving closer towards him through the air. He was confused as to how that was possible, until he felt his back hit the wall of the chute. It was impossible; he'd been towards the middle of the mob of Assassins when they fell.
He felt the wall start to slope off, the tunnel itself growing less wide as the chute started to curve.
This wasn't a pit, it was a slide.
Bruce almost laughed at the thought.
As the slide progressively leveled off, the assassins became massed together. Bruce was almost crushed under the collective weight, but, suddenly, light poured into his eyes.
He closed them just as the slide ended, spilling them out onto solid, flat ground.
He rubbed his eyes, opening them slowly to adjust to the harsh, fluorescent light. As dark as the chute had been, this room was bright. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all pure white, giving off an intense radiance of light. It was difficult to distinguish where open space stopped and walls began. The roof seemed to go on forever, and the only reason Bruce knew there was a floor was because he was laying on it.
There was only one distinguishable feature in the whole place: a fountain sitting in the center, flowing with glistening water.
He felt like he was in a sci-fi movie, like the place he was standing in couldn't possibly be real.
Yet there they were.
Ra's stood up immediately, barking out, "Draw your weapons and surround the fountain but do not touch the water!"
The living Assassins stood up, leaving only the victims of the Talon on the floor, and did as Ra's ordered. They formed a circle around the fountain, facing away from it, weapons pointed in every direction. Ra's and his lieutenants stood in the center, speaking in hushed voices.
Bruce tried to ignore them, choosing to count the bodies remaining on the ground, of which there were 12.
They'd lost over 10% of their forces in the very first clash, and had inflicted no casualties on the enemy.
What was Ra's thinking bringing them here? He had intentionally provoked Kathryn. He had gotten his men killed.
Bruce glanced over his shoulder at Ra's, who stared back at him. He quickly averted his gaze.
Ra's al Ghul had a plan, of course. He would never do anything as foolhardy as that without a reason.
Yet, murmurs began to emanate from the Assassins around him.
Apparently Bruce wasn't the only one confused by Ra's' actions.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of Ra's and his top officers whispering to one another, Ra's stated, "Form your ranks and keep your weapons drawn."
They did as he commanded, although some seemed hesitant to leave the safety of the circle.
After lining up, Ra's climbed atop the edge of the fountain and said, "This is the Court's Labyrinth of Light. It serves as both their prison, and execution chamber. If you would like to survive this place, then you will follow my orders. If not, feel free to try to escape on your own. I will not hold it against you."
Silence followed.
Ra's nodded. "Excellent. Now…"
His voice stopped as the brutal light they were being surrounded by shut off, casting them into pitch black darkness. Someone cried out, only a few feet to Bruce's left. Then, just as quickly as the light had been extinguished, it returned. Bruce covered his eyes, trying to slowly adjust to the harsh light.
Once he could finally see again, he turned to his left and found a headless body twitching on the ground, blood gushing out from the severed neck and pooling around the corpse. The head was nowhere in sight. Bruce whipped around, searching the room for any sign of an attacker, but found nothing.
"Case in point," Ra's muttered.
Bruce looked back at the body and felt a pang of guilt. He didn't know who it was, and, considering the head was missing, he'd probably never know. A chill ran down his spine.
That could've been him.
He raised his sword slightly higher, although the weapon felt more like an encumbrance than anything else. If he was attacked like that, there was no way he would survive, not with a weapon he could barely control. He started glancing around the crowd, searching for Jean. If they could just switch weapons without anyone noticing…
Ra's called out, "Now that you have all seen the power of the Talon, I take it you want to get out of here?" There was a murmur of agreement. Ra's started, "Then, if you want a chance at survival, do exactly as I say."
Bruce followed closely behind his group commander. They had broken out into their teams of ten and began sprinting through the maze, attempting to map out the surrounding area in hopes of finding an exit.
Considering the structure was supposed to be a prison/execution chamber, Bruce doubted the labyrinth had an exit at all. Nevertheless, standing around in the clearing where they had been attacked was most certainly not the answer.
To mark their path, the assassin standing in the back scraped their sword along the right hand side wall. Although the walls were made of an incredibly tough material, the scratches were visible, if only barely, and it was the only plausible way of marking out where they had been.
They had been running for no longer than three minutes when the lights flickered again. His group formed a phalanx with their weapons, three facing right, another three left, one covering the front, another the rear, and two raising their weapons up to ward off an attack from above.
A scream rang out from somewhere else in the maze, and the lights returned.
They started running again, repeating the sequence seemingly endlessly, one of which ended with Bruce feeling blood splatter on the ground next to him. When the lights returned, the assassin directly to his right was falling to the ground, decapitated.
"Continue!" their group commander barked.
Unlike the first assassin in the fountain room, Bruce knew who this person was. His name was Kamal, he was 27. Bruce had sparred with him on many occasions during his initial training with the League. Kamal was strong and smart, an excellent swordsman and, despite his intimidating appearance, a kind person.
And now he was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood as his comrades abandoned him.
As Bruce ran past, he reached down and grabbed Kamal's sword. It was a shorter weapon than his scimitar, with a double-edged straight blade and a short crossguard. It felt far better in his hands than the Sword of Sin ever did. He sheathed his own blade, choosing to wield Kamal's weapon instead.
They continued the pattern for what seemed like half an hour before running into another group of assassins, this one led by Talia. She only had four people left.
After brief deliberation, the two groups merged and decided to return to the fountain. Talia took the spot at the rear, directly next to Bruce.
"How's it going?" Bruce asked.
She scoffed. "Just wonderful, it felt like half of the attacks were on my group alone."
"Do you think they're targeting you?"
Talia shook her head. "No, if they wanted to kill me specifically, I'd be dead."
"That's not what I mean…" Bruce stated, but was cut off by the lights flickering out again.
This time, however, they didn't turn back on instantly. Bruce heard someone scream a few feet in front of him, and then another scream next to it. There was a single clash of metal and then silence, the lights returning shortly thereafter. Two had died, including Bruce's section commander. Another was injured, but not dead. He had a light slash on the right side of his neck. It was bleeding, but not badly.
He took a shaky breath and muttered that he was okay. "They're strong," the assassin stated. "Inhumanly strong."
Talia nodded. "Well done defending yourself. Take an interior position." She moved towards the front, leaving Bruce in the back of the line on his own. "We must keep moving!" Talia ordered.
They continued running. The lights went out a few more times, once again for longer durations than the flashes, but no one in their group was harmed. Bruce started counting in between attacks. Every time he would reach no higher than 180 seconds, meaning attacks occurred every three minutes or less.
Four more attacks, one down in his group and only seven remaining. They had been running for what felt like a short eternity when it finally occurred to Bruce that he didn't know what they were running towards. Or were they running away from something?
He was convinced there was no entrance, what would be the point in one? If it was a prison, then there would be no logical reason for an exit. The Talon seemingly didn't need one.
Bruce stopped.
"Wait!" he shouted, bringing the other assassins to a screeching halt. By his estimation, they had less than sixty seconds before the next Talon attack, so he needed to talk fast. "Where are the Talon coming from?" he asked, drawing blank stares from his comrades. "If they're coming from above, then there has to be a way for them to drop down and get back up quickly, right?"
The lights went out early.
Bruce heard a scream next to him, the clash of metal. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he instinctively rolled. He felt a rush of air mere inches from his face and swung his sword in a wide arch, hitting flesh and bone and tearing through it.
He heard someone yell, but didn't recognize the voice. The lights had been out far longer than normal, but they returned just seconds after he had attacked.
The group had been decimated.
Of the seven, only he, Talia, and one other assassin remained. The other four lay crumpled on the ground, one decapitated, another two stabbed through the skull, and the fourth slashed across their stomach. They were still breathing, but barely.
He pointed up at the ceiling and then collapsed, dead. Bruce followed his direction and saw that blood stains climbed up the wall into the roof, suddenly stopping.
"We have to get back to the others," Bruce muttered.
Talia nodded in agreement and the three of them began sprinting in the direction they had come, following the wall that they had been carving. The lights went out several times, now typically lasting over ten seconds.
They could nearly see the fountain in the main room when the lights went out another time, and the older assassin dropped.
Bruce collapsed at the foot of the fountain, Talia gasping for air alongside him. They had made it back, but lost eighteen people in the process.
He turned his head and vomited onto the floor. His head was ringing.
He reached into the fountain and scooped water into his mouth, removing the taste of bile and replacing it with something else.
"NO!" Talia screamed, but it was too late.
Ra's had warned them not to drink from the fountain. He had forgotten. Bruce gripped his throat, waiting for the poison to take hold.
Yet, nothing seemed to happen. He waited another minute or two. The water had tasted odd, but he felt nothing out of the ordinary.
"Bruce…" Talia muttered, "it's all your fault."
He stared at her in disbelief. "What?"
She laughed and shook her head. "It's your fault, you know. You came back. You killed us."
Bruce felt a chill run down his spine.
"You killed us," Talia repeated. The lights went out, but there was no scream. Bruce felt blood splatter across his face. The lights returned, and Bruce stared in horror at Talia's now mangled chest. A sword protruded from her heart and blood rushed out, soaking the blade. "If only you had been stronger…" she muttered in a raspy voice. "You couldn't save us."
"You couldn't save us…" someone else said.
Bruce whipped around and saw the older assassin staring up at him, his eyes glossy and lifeless.
"You couldn't save us," it repeated in unison with Talia. Other voices joined in, lifeless corpses shambling out of the hallways towards him. Talia and the older assassin rose to their feet, joining in with the haunting chant.
"You couldn't save us," Talia stated, leveling her blade at his throat. "And you couldn't save Selina Wayne."
Bruce stared at the corpses in disbelief, guilt and shame washing over him.
He couldn't save them. He wasn't strong enough.
They were dead because of him.
Selina was dead because of him.
Talia swung her sword down at his throat. He was saved by muscle memory alone, deflecting the weapon onto the fountain.
Bruce leapt to his feat, dodging another swing of Talia's sword.
He ducked as a spear flew over his head. The army of undead assassins began to charge, and he ran down the only hallway not overrun with the lifeless battalion.
He sprinted, dodging the weapons thrown at him, fending off the assassins quickly enough to catch him.
Bruce twisted and turned, running for what felt like hours, his pursuers never relenting in their chase.
He rounded a corner and there stood a single door. It was made out of a dark wood, an extreme contrast to the pure white walls, floor, and ceiling. There were no other notable markings besides a golden door knob.
He threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
He closed his eyes and prepared to barricade the entrance with his own body, but nothing happened. He opened them slowly, waiting for the mob of undead to come barreling through the wooden door, yet was met with silence.
Bruce scanned the room he was now standing in. It was about the size of his guest bedroom back in Wayne Manor. Like the maze outside, the room was made out of entirely one material, a reflective surface that looked like a mirror but felt like steel. When he stared in any one direction, dozens of himself would stare back at him, the reflection seemingly going on forever.
The closest reflection charged at him, knocking Bruce off of his feet and onto the floor.
Bruce kicked at his attacker, but met a solid surface.
He shook his head, trying to bring his mind back into order.
Undead assassins were not real and his reflection could not attack him.
Those two things he was mostly certain of.
He turned around and reached for the door, but it was gone.
He was trapped, this was just another trick by the Court to mess with him. They were just trying to get in his head.
A sharp kick from behind sent Bruce sprawling onto the ground again. This time, however, Bruce did not immediately strike back.
He spotted his attacker, someone who looked completely identical to him, down to the last fiber of his clothing and drop of blood plastered on his skin. They were completely identical, but Bruce saw them breathing. He was holding his breath.
"I can see you," Bruce stated.
"Of course," the other Bruce replied. "I'm you after all."
Bruce shook his head. "No, you aren't." He lunged at his attacker, but once again met the wall. "Stop hiding!" he shouted.
"Who's hiding?" fake Bruce replied, hitting him hard in the jaw.
Bruce climbed to his feet blocking another kick and swinging back. The fake Bruce dodged and struck his head with the butt of his sword.
Bruce collapsed, his vision becoming increasingly blurry.
"Why aren't you using that?" the fake Bruce asked.
Bruce looked up, but couldn't find the imposter. "None of your business," he spat. "Why do you look like me?"
The other Bruce chuckled and came into view, crouching down in front of Bruce. "Because I am you," he stated. "Down to the last cell." He stood up and stomped on Bruce's head, pressing it into the ground. "And yet, even though we are one in the same, I'm stronger than you are. Why is that, do you think?"
"You're...not...me…" Bruce insisted.
The other Bruce shook his head and kicked him. Bruce felt himself slipping out of consciousness. "I am you, but I've mastered that sword. I know why I am fighting. Do you?"
Bruce didn't reply, he couldn't. The urge to sleep was far too great to respond.
"Learn that before we meet again, or, next time, I'll kill you."
"Bruce!" Talia yelled, slapping him hard across the face.
His eyes fluttered open. He was on his feet, but practically being dragged by Talia and Jean. There were a few dozen assassins surrounding him, and they were all running in formation towards…
The exit.
Bruce shook himself to consciousness and let go of the other two. The lights flickered on and off almost every ten seconds, each time an assassin falling to the floor with a fatal wound.
He ran harder than he thought possible. A small metal door with the word 'Exit' written above it stood not two hundred feet in front of them. They were so close to escaping, yet the lights went out faster and faster, assassins dropping one by one as they neared safety.
Finally, they burst through the door.
The overwhelming smell of the city rushed into his nostrils and he collapsed onto the street. He rubbed his eyes, trying to remove the spots from the constant flickering lights in the maze.
When he looked around, he saw that they had exited a storage container near the Eastern pier, miles away from the Gotham Clocktower.
The door that they had exited through had practically vanished. Although they knew the entrance to the Labyrinth stood not five feet away from them, no one approached it. He looked around and counted the survivors.
Nineteen assassins remained, the majority of which were moderately wounded. Among them were Ra's, Talia, Jean, and himself, along with a few other assassins that Bruce knew.
The first one to their feet was Ra's, who walked towards the door, knelt, and prayed.
Bruce had never seen him do that before.
When he stood, Ra's spoke in a soft voice. "Those who were lost tonight will not be forgotten. The blood that was shed will be avenged tenfold." He turned to the assassins. "If a war is what the Court wants, then it is a war they shall get."
Bruce looked out at the horizon.
The sun was rising, but he didn't feel hope. The new day promised nothing but pain and misery.
The words that his doppelgänger had said rang through his head.
What was he fighting for?
He stared at the Sword of Sin resting beside him.
And what did that Sword have to do with it?
A/N: Well...I did say no promises as to when this chapter would come out…but I didn't think I meant a year-long hiatus.
Honestly I completely lost interest in writing as a whole this past year, and every time I tried to pick this back up I found myself wanting to do literally anything else. However, every time I glanced at the comments on this story, I would see dozens of new reviews asking for the next chapter or asking if I was okay, and it meant a lot. Since I don't like excuses, I'm just gonna give you guys one: this chapter scared me. It's everything I feel like I'm bad at, mainly action. I just don't know how to lengthen "Bruce runs down a hallway" into multiple paragraphs. I can't do it. But, I gave it my best shot because you guys deserve it.
Thanks for sticking around this long. I hope to keep writing from here on out, but I just had to get this thing out when I remembered that I was already halfway through it.
Thanks for reading and ciao for now!