( III )
Clouds of pure white drifted in front of the small, round window, like gracious swans on a serene, blue lake, in a blissful spring morning. Next to the window, a woman sat in a soft, cream-coloured, leather sit. In front of her, on a small, light-brown mahogany table, bolted to the floor, a single, traditional, Japanese, clay bowl, containing an exquisite assortment of tea stood among many scattered papers, two old books and a journal.
For Ryanne, sitting aboard a luxurious, personal aircraft could have never been more unpleasant. With steady hands and calm gestures, though deeply tormented inside, she reached for the large envelope she had snatched from Wong's hands, along with his last breath. She opened it, took out the papers inside, and for a few moments, she simply stared at them, thinking it unbelievable how her search had finally come to and end. After almost twenty years, she had at last in her possession all the necessary information to locate and eliminate her father's murderer, Ra's al Ghul.
As her thoughts unwillingly drifted to the father she never knew, her hands abandoned the pieces of printed paper to grab a more deteriorated piece, with a blurred handwriting. It was a letter she had from her father, probably the only thing she could truly consider valuable. Amusing as it may seem, this mere piece of paper was the cause of her quest for revenge. She had no need to read it again, for she now knew its content by heart.
"My darling daughter,
If you are reading this letter, I am no longer with you and I miss you and love you, always and forever. It also means I have failed and must place an awful burden on your shoulders. By now you must have discovered the truth about your origins, who your real parents were, myself and Mara, your mother. You are probably confused and wondering why I abandoned you, but the truth is I did it precisely to save you.
You see, in my youth, driven by a taste for adventure and a desire to prove myself, which I now deeply regret, I associated myself with a powerful and dangerous man by the name of Ra's al Ghul, who headed an organization known as The League of Shadows. Absorbed by his ideal goal of bringing order in the world, I stood by his side for many years, until I began to question his motifs and the violent means through which he claimed to restore peace and harmony. When your mother became pregnant, it was discovered that she suffered from an illness that might have had dire consequences on the child she was carrying, you, my dear Ryanne.
Desperate as I was to save my child and my wife, I stole something from al Ghul, a miraculous cure of sorts. After that I broke any contact with him, but I knew he would come for me, to punish me for what I had done. You were born a strong child and in excellent health, but regrettably, your mother could not be saved. To protect you from al Ghul's wrath, I entrusted you to a middle aged couple with no children of their own, whom I had known for years. Promising to take care of you until I would consider it safe to bring you home, they took you with them to Yugoslavia, where I hope you have enjoyed a peaceful life.
Now I sit at my desk, writing this letter to you, should the cruel fate make it so that we shall never meet. They are coming for me, I know it and I am powerless, but I have faith. Ryanne, the burden I spoke off was that of you having to bare the consequences of my actions. If I will not be there to protect you, be vigilant at all times, and no matter where you go. They are everywhere, and if they discover you alive, they will hunt you down until he will have his complete revenge.
I bid you farewell now, my dear daughter, praying that fate will be kind and grant me the immense joy of seeing you at least one more time.
Lord Edward Barrington"
Not surprisingly, fate did not grant Lord Barrington the pleasure of seeing his daughter one last time, nor did it grant Ryanne the chance to lead a normal, peaceful life. Shortly after her foster parents brought her to their home in Yugoslavia, she was kidnapped by the Lin Kuei warriors entrusted to acquire newly-born children, who were to be enrolled in their special program.
Sixteen years later, there was a knock on Mrs. Vlatko's door, announcing a most unexpected visit. The old woman slowly made her way to the door and asked on a soft, trembling voice that betrayed her age:
"Yes? Who is it?"
"Ryanne," came a brief answer.
Moments afterwards, the door slowly opened with a screech, and the old woman's wrinkled face popped out to meet the scarred, but otherwise smooth visage of a rebellious looking teenage girl. Her appearance, as perceived by the old woman, was rather boyish and inappropriate, with her short, messy hair, her ripped jeans, black t-shirt and leather jacket, although the girl had, nevertheless, distinguished feminine features.
What frightened the old woman was the girl's cold stare, the lack of any emotions whatsoever. Without exaggeration, the first thought that crossed her mind when she laid eyes on the girl, was that she would attack and kill her on the spot, such was the fury that tangled like a wild flame in the girl's eyes. The woman had no time to react, but fortunately for her, the girl had other intentions. She bowed her head before the woman and handed her a folder.
"I have gained possession of evidence attesting that this is the Vlatko residence."
"Yes, this is the Vlatko residence," the confused old woman answered while receiving the folder. "Who are you looking for?"
"I wish to meet with Mr. and Mrs. Vlatko. The files here present also attest that they are my parents," the girl standing in a very stiff position, with her hands behind her back, answered each question coldly and mechanically.
"Sweet child," spoke the old woman moments later, with a sobbing voice, as tears began to run down her cheeks. "What has become of you?" the woman reached out to caress the girl's cheek with her palm, a gesture which the girl found strange and confusing, but since it did not pose a threat, she permitted the woman her emotional outburst.
The woman soon invited the girl inside and for ten minutes they just sat in silence, Mrs. Vlatko on the armchair and Ryanne on the sofa.
"Can I get you anything, dear?" Mrs. Vlatko decided at long last to break the silence, seeing how Ryanne was looking around very perplexed.
Ryanne suddenly turned to look at her, which startled the feeble woman. This was most uncommon, for Ryanne had never before experienced the pleasure of having something she desired. In fact, she had not been taught to have a will of her own. She only knew to accept without questioning whatever was given to her. After much mental deliberation, in which time she appealed to the few knowledge she had of the common world, she gave a quick response, on the same mechanical tone.
"Water."
"Just water? Wouldn't you like something worm? Tea, perhaps or ……"
"Just water …… please," she repeated, the intonation she used for uttering the last word inclining towards a question, as if she was not certain that was the appropriate thing to say.
"Where have you been, child?" the woman asked gently, after returning from the kitchen with a glass of water which she laid on the coffee table, in front of Ryanne. For a few moments she waited, looking into Ryanne's eyes who glanced back at her, and when she had finally abandoned all hopes of revealing the mystery, the girl started talking. Slowly, but accurately, Ryanne acquainted her mother with the story of her life, as it were, telling her not only what she knew from her own past experiences, but also what she had been told or what she had discovered. In turn, Mrs. Vlatko told her about the night she had returned at home to find her husband lying dead in a pool of blood, and the baby girl nowhere to be found.
"Tell me about the common world," Ryanne concluded. "I want to learn to be a common person. How do you perceive the notion of family and that of feelings?"
Old Mrs. Vlatko was left speechless by such a question. These were things one could understand only by experiencing them, things that could not be put into words. Nevertheless she tried, but even after three hours she still felt that Ryanne had not understood much of what she had said. Casting a glance to her wrist-watch, Ryanne suddenly sprung to her feet.
"I must go now."
"No, Ryanne. Stay here, where you are safe," the woman pleaded, grabbing the girl's wrist.
"If they find me here, they will kill us both."
"Who?"
"The Lin Kuei. I have betrayed them, and the punishment for betrayal is death."
"Dear Lord, but you are only a child," the woman burst into tears, embracing the girl and holding her tight in her arms. Although she found it odd, Ryanne imitated the woman's gestures and embraced her as well.
"I will return and we will leave this place."
"Leave? And go where?"
"Somewhere safe. They will find me here."
Being brief as always, once she had said all that she had to say, Ryanne left her foster mother's embrace and headed towards the door. Turning to look one more time at the woman who had remained motionless, Ryanne opened the front door and left without saying a word. When Mrs. Vlatko quickly went outside to watch her leave, Ryanne was nowhere to be seen.
Later that night, Ryanne returned, feeling inside what the common people would describe as joy. But she only perceived it as an inner tranquillity, an easiness of the soul. When she began to approach the house, her inner state suddenly changed. She walked to the door and just as she was on the verge of knocking, she stopped. Although everything appeared to be in order, it did not seem so, and Ryanne had always relied on her senses and her intuition, without ever being wrong.
Slowly backing away from the door, she sneaked around the house, making her way to the back yard, where shadows danced in the dark, deadly shadows that would kill her if she did not move with grace and agility in the utmost silence. Walking in a crouched position and constantly making sure that the darkness of the night concealed her presence, she managed to climb up a tree, in front of which stood a man clad in black, his eyes being the only visible part of his body.
Ryanne climbed onto a branch that was closer to her target, wrapped her legs around it and let her body fall downwards. A she stood hanging upside down, just above the sentinel, she took out a metal cord, holding each end in one hand. In a fraction of a second she lowered it around the man's neck, twisted it and then removed it, allowing the man's lifeless body to fall to the ground. She unwrapped her legs, performed a back flip in the air, and landed on her feet with no great effort.
Silently approaching another sentinel, she sprung forward, whipping the left wrist into the man's trachea to prevent outcry, by impeding the pumping of the stream of air in and out of the lungs. Simultaneously she drove a pocket knife that she was carrying, into the man's kidney horizontally. Once the blade had pierced the full length of the kidney, she withdrew the knife and set the body on the ground.
Moving around the corner, she spotted another guard standing not too far away, with his back turned to her. Grabbing a small rock from the grass, she threw it in some bushes, right of where the man was staying, but not too close to him. This was to break the silence of the night and distract his attention from hearing the swishing sound made through the air by the knife that she threw in his direction.
Retrieving the knife impaled into the dead man's neck, she approached a wooden grating for climbing roses, fixed on one wall of the house and used it to climb up to the second floor, where she entered through an open window. The house was sunk into a bizarre tranquillity, and considering the guards she had just killed, only the worse could be expected. Exiting the room she had crept into, Ryanne tip-toed her way along the narrow corridor and down the staircase, descending into the main hall, from where she saw Mrs. Vlatko lying on the floor.
Probably for the first time in her life she acted without first planning carefully her every move. Seeing the woman she thought to be her mother in such a state, triggered inside of her unknown emotions. Her desperation made her deaf and blind. The only thing she knew was that she could not lose her mother, and the only chance she had to live a normal life. She rushed towards the woman, totally forgetting about being silent, and dropped on her knees next to her.
"Mother?" she asked on her usual plain tone and with no facial expressions that could denote her interior struggle.
The woman, though in great pain, opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the girl, her face lit by happiness and at the same time deepened into sorrow.
"I don't want to lose you," Ryanne uttered a phrase whose connotations she had yet to understand, but which she had heard to be appropriate in situations alike.
"You will not lose anything, child. Ryanne ……," she whispered with a dying voice, clutching the girl's arm with the last strength she had left in her body "I am not your mother."
Those were the final words with which Ryanne's step mother descended into death, leaving behind a disorientated and devastated child. Starring into the still opened eyes of the dead woman that seemed to hypnotise her, Ryanne was pulled out of the trance she had fallen into only by the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor.
Before the man could get too close to her, she sprung around rapidly and pulled the rug from under his feet. As he lay down, she sprung to the fireplace, grabbed a poker and drove it through the man's foot, causing him to shriek in pain. Afterwards she threw herself upon him and, while pressing his chest with her left hand to prevent him from moving, she started punching him with her right one. Once she had rendered him unconscious she removed the poker from the man's foot and impaled it into his heart.
Another man approached her, and though he believed he had not given away his presence, Ryanne heard him. She did not shift from her previous position, as not to alert the man, and attempted to concentrate and be as agile as before. Conceiving a plan of attack in her mind, she finally turned to confront the man, thinking she would take him by surprise. But it was the man who took her by surprise …… for he had a gun.
Three loud shots boomed out and her body suddenly fell numb. She could feel pain more intense than she had ever experienced. Her legs could not sustain any longer the weight of her body, so she collapsed. The man holding the riffle walked towards where she lay and although she could only see his eyes, she could tell that he was smirking. Pulling out a smaller pistol, he aimed it at her and fired a bulled straight through her skull.
In the few moments of consciousness she had left, an unknown sensation took control of her being. It was as if a flux of intense energy was running through her body, much more intense than in the case when one electrocutes oneself. When the body is injured, it naturally proceeds to heel itself, appealing to every resource it has at its disposal. If the injury is too great, the healing process fails, no matter the number of resources. In Ryanne's case, something extraordinary happened. In its frantic search to find a cure, her body discovered hidden resource of immense potential, which had laid inert up until then, for her body had never undergone such great damages.
Waking up from her slumber, Ryanne found herself in an abandoned warehouse. Next to her was the old man who had helped her escape and had promised to take her see her parents.
"It's all right. You're safe now," he spoke to her with a slight Texan accent.
"What happened?" she muttered, with a sleepy voice.
"Damn bastards set the house on fire. I barely got you out. Say, what happened to your
t-shirt? Has three holes in it and it's stained with blood, but you got no marks on you."
The puzzled girl starred back at him in disbelief and then looked at her t-shirt. The man was right. She lifted it up and …… nothing. Not even a scar.
"I don't understand. They shot me."
"Well, it don't matter. Important thing's you're safe. Now try to get some rest."
"I must go to the house," Ryanne sprung to her feet.
"What for? It all burned down."
"She said she was not my mother. Perhaps I could find some information of my true mother."
"I don't think there's much you could find there," the man replied, but before he could finish, Ryanne was already out the door.
Mrs. Vlatko's house being in a more secluded region of the small town she dwelled in, the fire brigade or other local authorities had not yet arrived at the site when Ryanne got there. Nothing except a great pile of rubble and ash was left. For almost two hours, Ryanne searched aimlessly among the debris. It was most absurd. Should someone have asked her what she was looking for, she would have sincerely responded: "I don't know".
Nonetheless, she was not without luck, for just as she was about to leave, her eye caught sight of something shining beneath the grey ash. She went to investigate and discovered a metal case. Taking out her pocket knife she attempted to open the sealed case, managing to cut her palm in the process. It was not too big a wound but still she had to find something to bandage it with. Ripping a part of her t-shirt, she proceeded to wrap it around her palm, but as she wiped the blood away she noticed with utmost stupefaction that there was no wound. It was unbelievable. For the second time, injuries that she knew she has acquired had simply vanished.
The only thing that was able to draw her attention from this mystery was the content of the now opened case. Inside it, Ryanne found her birth certificate that attested clearly who her real parents were: Mara and Edward Barrington. There was also a black and white photograph of a man and a woman, and according to the writing on the back, the two were Ryanne's parents. A second, larger photograph showed a grand mansion, looking more like a castle. The writing on the back said that the mansion was the Barrington residence, in England. A full address was also written down. The case also contained a set of keys and an envelope inside of which was a folded piece of paper that read: "My darling daughter ……".
Upon her return, Ryanne showed the old man what she had discovered and once again, he offered to accompany her. The next morning, everything was prepared for their departure. Ryanne sat in the front sit of the car, with the metal box on her lap. At one point, she found herself starring back at her own image in the rear-view mirror. Thinking back at the wounds that had unexplainably vanished from her body, she decided to try something. She took out her knife, and since pain was most usual to her, she made a cut on her chick, precisely on one of her scars. What followed made Ryanne gasp in surprise. Hardly had she made the cut, when the opened wound began to close before her eyes and in a few moments it was as if there had never been a deep wound there; even the old scar was gone.
"Okay! Ready to go?" the old man asked as he climbed into the driver's sit. "You look different. How did you hide your scars?" he asked all of a sudden, noticing a major change in Ryanne's appearance.
"I cut them," she answered, serious as always.
Knowing the girl to be weird, the man did not pursue the subject any longer, and quietly drove off.
In England, finding the Barrington residence was not easy, nor was getting inside, but the keys that her father had left for her in the metal case were of great use. The mansion, though in good conditions, seemed to be abandoned. The gardens surrounding the house had not been tended for a long time and weeds had spread everywhere, whereas inside, most of the furniture was dusty and covered by white sheets.
The old man had not accompanied Ryanne to the mansion, but found a safe place to hide in a suburbia of London. After what she had read in the letter from her father, Ryanne wanted to make sure she did not lose the only person she could trust. Making her way across the dark halls of the mansion, Ryanne took notice of a second presence. There was an old man, dressed in a shabby, long, overcoat walking about with a flashlight, just like a watchman that wants to make sure everything is in order.
A knife flying through the air, passing before the man's eyes, impaled itself into the wooden wall. Of fright, the man dropped the lantern, which was picked up by the one who had thrown the knife.
"What are you doing in my house?" Ryanne questioned harshly, casting the flashlight in his direction; the old man was beyond surprised.
"This is not your house. Who are you?" the man found the courage to speak.
"I am Ryanne Barrington, daughter of Lord and Lady Barrington and this house is rightfully mine."
"Can you prove that you are who you claim to be?" the bewildered man asked just to make sure, though he knew there was no one who knew the name of Lord and Lady Barrington's only child, and the girl had to be telling the truth.
As a response, Ryanne threw the metal box at his feet. Inside, the man found all the evidence he needed to convince himself that the girl was telling the truth.
"Who are you?" Ryanne questioned him while approaching with rapid steps, frightening the man whose heart had barely settled.
"My name is Peter Tompkins. I have been under the service of the Barrington's for more than fifty years. I was a gardener. Now, ever since the …… incident, I have been coming here from time to time, to make sure everything is in order."
"What incident?"
"Lord Barrington, he ……," Mr. Tompkins found it difficult to speak of such matters to the girl.
"He was murdered," she stated coldly.
"Yes," the man bowed down his head, remembering the sad event.
It was in that moment that Ryanne made the silent vow to avenge her father's murder by any means necessary. The time she spent living in her father's house helped her acquaint herself with the common life, as she called it, as well as with the refined habits of the upper-class, to which she belonged, just as her parents before her. Mr. Tompkins and a nephew of his of about thirty years of age, who became butler for the new mistress of the Barrington residence, were Ryanne's mentors. Unfortunately, old habits are very difficult, if not impossible to change, and due to her upbringing, no matter how hard they tried, they could not manage to transform Ryanne into a true Lady.
Realising she could not put her plan into action by leading such a tedious lifestyle, she decided to journey to the far east, where she hoped to perfect her skills, strengthen her body, enrich her knowledge and clear her mind, in order to better understand the world in which she had took refuge and to succeed in her plan of revenge. Indeed, in her journeys she had learned many things and her life had changed greatly, but one thing still tormented her. She had made her life's goal to find Ra's al Ghul and now, as her personal aircraft was taking her to where her greatest enemy dwelled, she was struck with fear. If she succeeded in killing him, she would also destroy her very purpose in life. What was to become of her afterwards?