Training
CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama
Language: some
Violence: some
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none
Author's Notes:
This was the hardest part to write, the transition. You will also notice I made up traditions and stuff for the League. They're just that, made up.
Training
==#==
Malcolm returned to Starling City with a coterie of assassins to assist him in the robbing of his wife's grave. He was not given leave to speak to anyone, nor to see his son. Fortunately, Tommy was away at his grandparent's house.
Rebecca's shrouded corpse was taken away to be prepared for the ceremony of resurrection. In the meantime, Malcolm would begin his training.
He was given a black gi and taken to a class full of novitiates. There were at least twenty, most of them teens, all in plain white gi. He was astonished that there would be so many people at this hidden fortress, a place, a sect barely known as a legend. Then he began to feel uncomfortably out of place as they stared at him, and kept shooting surreptitious glances at him while a veiled woman led them in drills. Was he in the wrong place? Was he wearing the wrong gear? He didn't know the traditions of the League, and he didn't like being in the dark, feeling lost and helpless.
He was distracted and did poorly. The iron lady who was their teacher reprimanded him several times. Finally, after hours of drills, he was instructed to kneel and wait while the other students filed out.
"I'm sorry," he said when the room was clear and she returned to stand over him.
"Why do you apologize?" she asked, her english bearing traces of a french accent.
"I don't know the ways of the League," he stammered. "Have I done something wrong? It's only my first day."
She shook her head. "What fool would expect you to know everything when you have just started?"
Malcolm ducked his head. Himself, he guessed. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"You should only apologize if you have done something wrong."
But he didn't know what he'd done! "I don't understand. I'm so-" He bit his tongue. "Please explain to me... why am I different? Why am I wearing this, and not white? Why do the others look at me so?"
Now she nodded with a hint of satisfaction, and beckoned him to stand. "Novitiates come to the League to train, to perhaps be initiated into our ranks. They wear white, until they have killed."
It's a stigma, was Malcolm's first thought. But he wasn't a killer... no, that wasn't true, he admitted with guilt. He'd told Ra's al Ghul about shooting Rebecca's murderer. He had killed, but he still did not feel like a killer. Like an assassin. Was he really going through with this?
"Is that all it takes?" he asked the teacher. "Once you have killed, you are a part of the League?"
"No. The novitiates must go through the Proving. If they succeed, they are initiated."
"What is the Proving?"
"The Proving is a fight to the death."
Malcolm's breath caught in his throat. "Fighting whom?"
"Whomsoever Ra's al Ghul deems a proper opponent. Sometimes the novitiates fight each other. Sometimes a criminal is brought in for execution. Sometimes..." She opened her hands in an expansive gesture. "Sometimes Ra's al Ghul tests the novitiate with a unique target."
"When? When is this Proving?"
"When you are ready."
Malcolm was not ready.
==#==
He studied hard, and advanced quickly in skill in his first two weeks. He had no word of Rebecca, so he sought another audience with the Head of the Demon. He knew the protocols now, he knew the vast history of the League, and its enigmatic leader.
He knelt, as was respectful, but did not hesitate to come to the point. Assassins were not apologetic about their trade, nor weak in upholding what they knew to be righteous. "When will the ceremony be held to resurrect my wife?"
"When I have determined that you are a worthy member of the League."
"You said I was worthy to train. That you would forge me into a weapon."
"Perhaps your conviction is not as strong as it appeared to be when we first spoke," Ra's said darkly.
Malcolm took a moment to control his temper. He had to treat this like a delicate business negotiation. "I pledged my life in service to the League. In return, you gave your word to restore Rebecca to life."
"Are you ready to undergo the Proving?"
"Master, you said yourself, I came here weak and wounded. I cannot become an accomplished fighter in so short a time."
"You are impatient."
"My son needs his mother." He looked up into the Demon's eyes. "Or at least one of his parents. If you cannot perform this miracle you promised me, then there is no reason for me to be here." It was a risk. In the bazaars the world over, it was said whoever could walk away from the bargaining table had the upper hand. Surely if he were as ancient as the tales told, Ra's al Ghul would know this. If the Demon dismissed him, would Malcolm have the strength to walk away?
Ra's slowly stroked his beard in thought while Malcolm struggled to keep any sign of desperation from his face, his eyes. After an interminable wait, the Demon said, "Very well. The ceremony will be held in three days."
Malcolm bowed his head in respect.
==X==