Disclaimer: all characters and mentioned universes belong to their respective owners and/or creators.
This is a work of fiction.
'Italics means he is talking to himself /inner voice'
"inverted commas" means a normal conversation.
POWER
I had a fractured arm. Some broken fingers, bruised ribs, a bleeding back and chest from a deep sword slashes. My legs still ached from kicks I had received. Most likely torn muscles. My nose was bleeding, my vision was mildly blurry and my clothes were in tatters.
Overall I was still in a good condition. Yes, for me this was good when considering my opponent.
My opponent had many shallow cuts and bruises. No broken bones, a deep cut above his eyes and an ultra rare grin I was seeing for the first time on his face.
Ra's AL Ghul looked at me with a smile. Because for the past three minutes this man went all out and held nothing back. He 110% tried to kill me. He told me so himself. And he proved it.
"You have no hesitations, you have no mercy. You have shown me the strength of your will, and indeed your resolve is firm and solid. Congratulations on passing the last trial, Damian. Not only have gained victory and you have not failed me" He spoke.
"Thank you grandfather. I endeavor never to fail" I wiped blood off of my nose. I never said you tho.
"Good" the smile disappeared like it was never there to begin with. His expression turns to the stoic regal one it usually is. "Focus Damian. What I'm about to teach you is what I have taught no other and will never teach another. For they will all be undeserving of it. You however have proven your worthiness."
Three zealots walk into the the combat room.
"Are you prepared?"
"Yes grandfather" I nod. This was the part where I got my reward, which was going be a secret technique he has never taught anyone else, I wonder how scary it would be.
"This is the stone palm." he extends his palm outwards, but his hand looks like it's shaking in a certain manner, no it looks stable but with tiny vibrations.
He taps his hand over the chest of the first zealot. "Uhkk-!" the zealot falls over, blood trickling down his lips, his heart beat stops but there very minuscule movements that only a trained eye will spot. But he is dead…technically.
"It causes commotio cordis, the disruption of the heart's rhythm. You can use it to instantly kill permanently, or temporarily" once again his hand taps on the chest of the second zealot. The second zealot falls, but there is no blood on his lips. He is dead, I can hear his heart beat cease. And the first one who was just bleeding rose from the ground, his heart back to normal beats.
The art of killing is one mastered by Ra's. He's terror incarnate, every thing is a weapon to him.
"Show me what you have learned" he gestures to the third zealot. This is what I love about the league. They don't even ask, they demand. You either swim or sink.
I calm my breath and refocus on what I have witnessed. The arm performs micromovents in certain sequences as it is stretched out making it look like it's almost shaking.
My plam gently hits the chest of the third zealot who drops. And then back to the first. Who collapses.
Seconds later the third rises with a blood trickling down his lips and the first zealot remains dead.
"Exellent, Damian." Ra's praises me with a pleased tone.
He flicks his hand and the head of the third zealot flies off. Secrets must be kept, even I understand that.
I look at my hands, these Littles hands have been forged into deadly weapons. I may not be prepared for whatever comes my way, but I can damn sure put up a fight for my life. I can never slackoff, if I do then it could spell my end, I have been marked for dead. I will acquire more skills and ways to preserve my life. I can not and will not leave my fate in the hands of another.
There's glory in red. I say that not to sound romantic, but to explain the sights before my eyes.
In the deepest most secret places of the league of assassins, the devils gathered.
Fires burned with green wispy trails, but even the fires were conquered by the red. Only the trusted and most esteemed are allowed in these halls.
My steps are orderly and steady. With each step I take, I ascend the red stairs. Men, zealots and most trusted servants. Stand on either sides, as statues do.
Bhmm! They pound their chests with closed fists for each step I climb.
Bhmm! The sound resonates in this otherwise silent stony chamber.
Bhmm! The sound continues, like a steady beating heart.
On a raised platform which is above my own. Rests a red globe of the planet earth. Continents are drawn on it. Ra's Al Ghul stands on that platform and he looks down, his gaze is focused on me. His shadow forms the outline of a devil with horns on the walls of the chamber.
A rectangular fabric is suspended from the platform. A name is written on the banner.
It spells. DAMIAN AL GHUL.
Below it, is an oroboros snake in an infinity symbol.
I walk up to my platform. Ra's stretches out his hand. The drummers begin pounding.
Boom boom boom.
It sounds like the heartbeat of a dragon.
I feel the beat on my skin. I feel it in the air.
My mother walks towards me with a bowl in her hands. She dips her fingers in it and draws it out. The fluid is as red as the chamber. It has a strong iron scent. It's blood, but not human.
She rubs it over my eyes. It's a mask of blood.
She hands the bowl to the servants. I spread out my arms. My marks are in full display, they standout even in such a place. They look bloodier.
My mother slots gold bracelets over my arms.
Boom! boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!
The beats get louder, the rhythm increases. It is building up to a crescendo.
Everyone kneels. My mother walks behind me and drapes a cloak over me. It is black, with pure gold edges. It feels too comfortable, like it was made for my existence.
And the hood of the cloak is pulled over my head.
Boom! boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!
The sight before is as awe inspiring as it is scary. The burning flames are reflected on my eyes. I feel something stirr in me. It clicks into place satisfyingly. I feel born again. I feel remade. This is my rite of blood and I welcome it. This is part of my legacy. I can never abandon it.
These are my soldiers, this is all mine and I will take rightful rule over it, in due time. I am not the child that died, that person is dead. I am Damien Wayne al Ghul, the son of the Bat and the child of the demon. And I will make full use of my resources and abilities to ensure that I survive and come out on top. And if my actions benefit the world, well guess that's a bonus then. And if it doesn't, well tough luck for earth.
Selfish? Maybe a little. Have you seen the powerful beings in DC? I'm just human, my survival is number one priority.
I'm sorry, I'm not some delusional manga influenced bastard who thinks the world is all sunshine and rainbows. I have no plot armor. If I did, I would be reborn as the joker instead. Have you seen that guy's plot armor? It's so thick, you'd mistake him for the hero.
"Damian al Ghul. You are the heir of the demon. You are the pride of my league. All I have is yours. You will lead this world into a better age. You will save humanity. You will bring victory to mankind." the booming voice of Ra's resonates loudly. The implications of his words hammering into my very heart. Oh boy, I never thought I'd be a version of Jesus. He who wears the crown must bear the weight. Then, so be it.
Golden rays of sunlight shone down on my al Ghul armor, the armor consisted of intricate golden patterns designed on dense but lite protective plates threaded together over a full body black combat suit. My hooded cloak pulled back, bringing the full compound to view.
After my morning training and spars, I was obligated to appear here and observe what would be mine. It became part of my daily routine after the ceremony, which was three weeks ago.
"This is your legacy, it is all your inheritance, Damian. You must never forget" Ra's al Ghul reminded me. He was dressed in a larger version of the al Ghul armor, his posture straight, his gaze forward.
"Yes, grandfather" I spoke, looking ahead.
From the corner of my eye I saw my mother standing with her gloved arms folded over the green protective vest a top her black combat suit, with a grin.
The air was tranquil. The clouds lazily floated past the twin green mountain peaks, which stood high above, on either sides of the sectionated compounds. The periodic shouts of the practicing warriors below us did nothing to offset the feeling of natural calm. The breezing musical tunes of the zither adding to the serenity.
It was too tranquil. I felt an almost unnoticed sensation flash through my death marks. It was unsettling.
The sensei walked steadily onto the platform. His cane held in the grasp of his bony slender fingers, wrapped in old wrinkled, leathery skin. His flowing beard as white as the sparse hairs in his bald head. If Ra's was ferocious, the sensei was Sinister hidden behind a grandfatherly look. I never liked him, but I made sure to keep my thoughts to myself.
When you're trained in the art of killing to mastery. There's a sixth sense your body hones, some call it instincts. This sixth sense is able to identify intents released subconsciously by others. Such as when someone is about to stab you in the back. The sixth sense is there to protect you, it is very easy to dismiss your instincts as nothing but unfounded worries. Trained individuals however, know to never doubt their instincts. So when my instincts screamed at me to turn around. I did so instantly with my sword drawn.
Clank! Sparks fly as a bullet aimed for my back is deflected to the side by my sword. I whip shurikens at the paper walls behind us.
Shuck! Shuck! The sound of metal stabbing through flesh is heard and blood seeps out from behind the walls.
Clap! Ra's holds the sensei's sword sandwiched between his palms "Oldman, you dare betray me!" Ra's yells in anger at the sensei. "Talia, take the boy"
She nods in agreement and grabs my hand, we leap off the platform and skid down stone tiled roofs. Assassins with red headbands begin to show themselves amongst the league ninjas. The loud wind chopping noise of blades slicing through air fills the air. Helicopters appear on the horizon.
Bullets from machine gun fire tore through sections of the compounds, rending flesh and bones of the fighting ninjas, blades of the traitors collides with those of the loyalists. Missiles rain down on the compound, blasts of fires cook the flesh of the unlucky, shockwaves destroy bodies and infrastructure around us.
The weapon systems of the compounds obviously compromised, taking away the power behind the modern array of weapons we have and the proper force to mount defences. This was a well planned attack.
The Blackhawks approach and hover over the compound, wires descend from the vehicles and down them, we'll armed soldiers.
Assault rifles trailed on the ninjas pour out a barrage of bullets. The ninjas fight back with their own weapons. But for every gun welding soldier they take down, two more ninjas drop dead.
The ninjas resort to steel tipped arrows for long range attacks. Although not as effectively efficient as bullets, it's sufficient.
"Mother, I'm heading to the terminal center, I can get the weapons back online" she looks deep into my eyes, and nods giving me her approval.
"I'll lead the offensive here." she answered drawing her guns. "Damian, I trust you can achieve it, the survival of the league depends on you. Get the job done well, like you always do" and with those words she ran ahead, her guns singing a deadly tune, creating third eyes in the foreheads of the invading soldiers.
I ran the adjacent direction, slicing through obstacles that blocked my path.
I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't use my meta knowledge on plots. If you missed the part where the sensei betrayed us well let me explain it to you. This isn't a movie or cartoon world. This is reality, it doesn't follow a specific "plot" made for the entertainment of others, down the line you'll get to see so yourself. The only useful meta-knowledge that I have, are those on secret identities, locations of useful resources, equations and places. And I don't know if they would even translate to this reality. Because as you can see, this is reality, not a game. There isn't an mc, everyone lives their lives as the central character to their own stories. Maybe this is just a world closely related to what I once knew as fiction. Discarding that, DC comic timelines and realities are so jumbled up that you'd have better luck finding a needle in the ocean, than fully mapping it out.
…
"Urk!" the assassin dropped on the wooden floors, dead, joining his teammates. I flicked my sword getting rid of the blood on it. The weapons interface terminal wasn't just disabled it was trashed and busted. Meaning I would have to get down and dirty and do something close to hot-wiring it, well until the wires burn out from an unregulated load. I ripped out the broken screen of the interface, a bundle of multicolored thread-thin wires came into view. This was going to take too long fix. But I didn't need to fix it. All I had to do was get the weapons running.
I began by stripping out the insulation from sparking wires, connecting the leads to places they needed to be connected to. Coiling wires together, and when I was done I looked at the Frankenstein of a wiring I had made. My tutor would be proud...in his grave. I touched the final leads together and after a momentary silence the green lights came on.
The weapons would keep firing till it ran out of artillery or till the wires burnout. The targeting system wasn't fully functional, it was like aiming with a crooked gun. But it would do, the targets were concentrated and we had some heat seeking missiles. 1+1=2. You get the point. I could already hear the explosions.
I made my way up the steps. Reaching the higher levels, the exit appeared before me. So did three people.
"Ygh!" "Aghh!" I silently jumped back, ducking behind a pillar, hiding. I looked out down below.
Ra's was on his knees, profusely bleeding, he had lost his right arm. The sensei was dead, spread eagle in a puddle of his own blood. A sword held in the grasp of a mutilated limb sticking out of his chest.
"You've lived too damn long oldman" those were the words of Slade Wilson the third opponent. Deathstroke was taller and more imposing than presented in the movies. And he had both his eyes. He was injured as well and his blade was bloody. He must have been working with the dead sensei. As he was the one to sever Ra's arm.
"You have bitten off more than you can chew boy" Ra's slowly stood to his feet.
Slade wasn't part of the league, he never was. He was a well accomplished, international mercenary. That had a 100% success mission record.
"Lets see about that" they began their tumble. Even with a single arm Ra's held his own against deathstroke. That was until slade dropped smoke pellets around Ra's, taking away his sight. The distinct sound of a helicopter, heralded the whistle of an incendiary missile. Poor Ra's al Ghul, he's about to be as dead as a doornail.
I know what you're about to ask, but, do I look like a savior? Do you want to know the real reason why ra's was so interested in me? The man wasn't grooming me to be his next successor, he was creating a perfect body for his soul to move into. The pit has become ineffective for him due to prolonged usage, so he now needs a alternative, which is me. Fucked up right? Trying to body jack your own grandson.
BOOM! It was too late for Ra's, the missile turned the lower levels into a blazing inferno, the screams of Ra's al Ghul silenced by the roaring flames.
Deathstroke was hanging by a line wrapped around the railing of an upper building. And then his sight landed on me.
"So you're the little bastard. After I kill you, I'll make good use of the league" he swung from his line and filliped in the air. Landing perfectly on my side of the exit.
"Come boy, I'll send you to your grandfather" he dashed at me.
I swung my sword up clang! jumping away from him when he raised his to guard. I ran through the corridors with him chasing behind me. That was his mistake, because you see this was my house.
I turned a corner and went through a hidden door.
Slade dashed around the corner his sword held defensively.
"Come out boy, I'll make your death quick"
I was above slade, waiting for my shot and exploiting the ceiling glitch.
Clang! he blocked the sword I swung down.
"You should be more silent" he said staring up at me.
I saw my chance.
"phht" I spat out a gust of air.
Shuck! a poisoned needle lodged itself in his open unguarded eye.
"You underestimate me" I replied, jumping down from the ceiling.
"Argh!" he scream. That poison was a fast acting necrotoxin. It would eat up his eye all the way to his brain if he doesn't isolate the infected regions soon enough. He should realize it. He's a professional.
I made use of the provided opening. My sword slashed across his chest, it should have dug halfway into his body. His thin armor, dampened most of the force behind the fatal strike, leaving only a long gash across his torso.
Slade widened the distance between us, he tossed out black balls that released teargas and smoke. I jumped away, shielding my eyes and nose.
"This just got personal, kid" he said in a gruff angry tone before jumping out the balcony of the building. Blood dripping all the way.
"It got personal the moment you tried killing me." I shot back at him.
He gave me one last look then grabbed onto a wire line dropped from one of his blackhawks, that proceeded to vacate the island. I ran to the exit and watched him leave.
Only two of the original eight blackhawks survived the bombardment from the activated weapon systems.
The atmosphere was filled with smogs of black smoke from the burning wreckage. Craters, scorch marks and dead bodies littered the compound grounds. The shouts of victory resonated, as did the groans of pain and agony, which were soon to be silenced. The weak got culled.
…
Ra's body was charred black to the point where parts of his barebones protruded from his skin. The armor plates and burnt fabric melted over his burnt corpse. The great Ra's al Ghul was now but a wretched corpse. Although you can never have too much power, personal strength is the only thing that truly matters in the end. Look at the man who once controlled armies of lethal fearless assassins, lay here dead, alone.
If he obtained bullet proof skin he would have survived. His martial arts skills were one of the greatest, tempered through the centuries, but look at him here dead. Did his skills stop the bomb? No. Did his breathing techniques make him invulnerable? No. It all comes down to how far you adapt and evolve.
I shook my head and turned to gaze at my mother. She may fool the zealots, but I knew her. She was happy right now. This was her chance to become the head. Let her have it while it lasts, it will become mine in the end.
"Mother, is there no way to revive grandfather?" I intoned with a hopeful tone.
"No, my child. Your grandfather is gone for good, I'm afraid. The pit cannot heal such injuries" she gloomily shook her head and sighed. Yes, that's the woman I learned acting from.
It was but for a moment, our gazes met. We understood each other.
"Come, Damian. I'll have to get you somewhere safe while I settle things here. It's high time you met your father"
"It makes me glad that you think so mother"
This place is cursed. That was the first feeling I had when we crossed into Gotham, I felt my marks tug along the length of my arm, and an itch at the back of my skull, that was never a good sign. Maybe it's because it's dark, but Gotham felt like it was drowning it's residents in thick viscous ink. The city hugged the shadows and turned the world into a gloomy spiritual grey. I wanted to leave as soon as I came here, but when had I ever run away from my fears? I learned to conquer them. If this city was going to try to kill me, I would subdue it first and turn it into my bitch. I wouldn't allow it to end me, I won't allow it to swallow me. I was going to come out on top.
Gotham, You can't kill me, I won't succumb. You will be subdued Gotham, right under my thumb.
Talia was dressed to impress, it was at the level of wow-mom-you're-pretty infatuated-over-Bruce.
So when I stood in the cabin room waiting for Talia's signal, I knew who the other person in the deck was. A man I was certain would be batman. Gotham's savior, and also its destruction.
Batman, was going to destroy Gotham because of his asinine, no-kill policy. Police kill criminals, that doesn't turn them into the same criminals.
Soldiers put down terrorists, that didn't turn them into those same terrorists.
The allied forces killed nazis that didn't make them into new nazis. America ended the second world war, bringing the world into an age of peace, did that turn them into the things they deafeated? I think not. Soldiers f
If you want peace you should be prepared for war, and in wars, blood is always shed. Yes, Gotham is in a state of war. The villains here are terrorists and batman keeps letting them walk the earth.
You can't keep dumping trash in a small can and not expect it to tip over and spill its rot, one day.
It was like the Great and wise Lucifer said : "batman was making better criminals…he was trying to cure cancer with antibiotics."
Batman, fails, miserably so. Its a future often explored in comics. Because you see, for all his greatness and immense willpower, batman is just a man. And no man is perfect. He can be wrong at times. And in this real flawed world, ideal circumstances as imagined in our heads cannot be expected to exist outside of it.
There's a version of Batman that killed villains, he brought his version of Earth into a golden dawn of peace and prosperity. So when I see this one man keep talking about his no kill rule, it saddens and angers me. He keeps putting people into this perpetual cycle of torture.
I won't lie, the man has a strong will, he has achieved a lot. But killing is as necessary as living. We do it all the time.
"...And your Son" Talia drew the curtain to the side. Hey, villains and theatrics, man. I don't make the rules, I just enforce it.
I walked out from the shadows behind the curtains, with one foot infront of the other I stood before the tall towering imposing figure of a man dressed in bat influenced armor. Well…to be honest I was expecting more. Maybe a glorious scene, you know the kind where, his cape is made up of shadows, his eyes shining with deep demonic red of demons hidden behind the terror inducing cowl. His whole body radiating a fearful devil like aura, that made people feel cold chills in their spines. But, Imaginations can be disappointing when met with reality. Or maybe it's just because I'm quite numb to these sights, I have seen to much unexplainable things, to be really shocked at seeing batman. Batman, was just a very determined man in armor. And if you've seen Tony Stark, then you know he is seriously out gunned and out matched.
"You expect me to believe this?" his tone deep, audible and authoritative.
"I assure you he's yours" Talia answered
To which he snorted. With a gaze as sharp as Ra's, he observed me.
"Don't look so stunned, I imagined you scarier and more imposing" I said.
*Boom! Another chapter to round it all up and make it even.
What do you guys think? Give me your feedback people. Tell me your thoughts in the reviews.
Hit that like and fave button, show some love, no wait that's wrong. Show me your power!
VICTORY!*