Chapter Text
Dick had vanished. Bruce stood in his Penthouse in Gotham City, infuriated. He had just hung up the phone with the Dean of Hudson U.
“No Good! No one at the university’s seen Dick for the last couple of days… He’s vanished! And that has to mean trouble!”
Bruce's worried rant was interrupted by Alfred walking in, holding a note, an envelope.
“Begging you pardon, Master Bruce. A messenger just left this missive with the doorman.”
The envelope was unmarked, save for his alter ego name in block capitals, each letter squared off with the rigid paranoia of a professional draftsman. He studied the envelope for twenty-one seconds before opening it.
Inside: a photograph. Robin, bound, laying propped up on a few stones and staring defiantly into the camera.
“Young Master Dick?!” Alfred asked, worry in his voice.
Bruises were flowering across Dick’s cheekbone and the muscle of his neck. The boy’s eyes were open and clear of concussed confusion, thankfully, and even through the blur of the print, Bruce detected the smirk.
“Yes, Alfred, as I feared. He’s a captive… or worse.”
Taped to the photograph, a slip of paper, the glue still tacky.
Dear Batman, We have Robin! Save him if you can!
No signature, no return address, no scent but the oily tang of photo emulsion. He noted it all, even as his hands compressed the envelope, crisp edges bowing beneath his grip.
“Cancel all my appointments, Alfred.” Bruce said, already dressing in his Batman suit. “I am unavailable to everyone! Bruce Wayne is to vacation if Batman is to find his ward.”
“May I ask, Sir, where you are bound first?”
Bruce looked at Alfred, before jumping off the balcony and swinging away.
“I want to run a full analysis of the note and photo, for that I need the gear in the Batcave”, he mumbled to himself as he saw the city beneath his cape.
For a moment, Bruce doubted if moving to the penthouse had been the safest idea.
The grandfather clock in the hallway of the Manor sounded three long, damp chimes. Each one was an instruction: move, act, descend. He walked the marble corridor to the hidden panel, pressed his thumb against the micro-sensor, and the panel shuddered open, exhaling a sigh of stale air. He took the passage at speed. It was a staircase, sixty-two steps in a corkscrewing spiral, the only light the faint luminescence from the radium hands of his wristwatch.
The Batcave welcomed him like a cathedral: gothic arches of ancient stone, a chancel of cold, black water, the main altar a horseshoe of humming computer arrays. In the darkness above, unseen bats clicked and fidgetted in their own silent congress.
“Welcome home, Bruce Wayne. Or shall I address you as the Batman?”
The icy, penetrating voice made him freeze. Made him whirl around, cape sloshing around his shoulders.
“Who are you? How’d you get in here?!”
A man, greying black hair, in a green velvet cape stood in the middle of the consoles. A large, taller one in a red cape behind him. But they were not superhero capes, more like travelling cloaks. And they did look travel worn.
“To answer your question, I am presently known as Ra’s al Ghul. You shall be seeing much of me. To answer your second query… It was a simple matter of deduction and research! I reasoned that the Batman had to be wealthy. And that he needed certain kinds of equipment! Therefore, I merely had my organization investigate…”
Bruce sighed, then removed the cowl.
“And you found that Bruce Wayne alone bought what the Batman had to have, right? Okay… That’s a hole I’ll have to plug. I’m surprised someone didn’t think of it years ago. Now, I have a third question…” His voice dropped lower, into dangerous territory. “The big one… WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
The Bat stepped closer, posture menacing and a threat. Ra’s didn’t so much as flinch.
“I want… Need… Your help. My child has been abducted. I received this photograph by messenger!”
He handed the photograph over. Talia. Her face was calm, eyes hooded, but her arms were lashed behind her, and she laid on the very same rocks as Robin in the picture Bruce had received. The same polaroid palette, the same ragged note, visible in the bottom corner:
Dear Ra’s al Ghul, We have your daughter. Save her if you can.
“That’s Talia! She’s… your daughter?!”
He moved over to his console, putting down the picture of Talia, and taking the one of Robin out. Ra’s stepped closer, intrigued.
“Apparently the girl was taken by the same person who has my ward.” Bruce scowled. “We have a mutual problem…”
Which still did not explain why Ra’s was here, though. How had he known about Robin? Had he known? Was this some sort of trap, some ploy to…
“Talia spoke highly of your abilities as a detective.” Ra’s said, sounding a bit defeated. Ah. “I trust her judgement without reservation. If anyone can seek her out, it is the Batman.”
Well, that did explain why he was here. Bruce still remained sceptical about it. He spread the photographs and the notes on the workbench, flattening them with surgical exactitude. There was only the hum, the drip, the mechanical sigh.
“Let’s hope you’re both correct. To start off, I’ll examine the pictures under a microscopic spectrograph! There may be traces of dust that can give us a clue.”
Batman extracted a glass rod and ran it along the length of the paper, collecting particles into an electrostatic collector. The move was automatic, the body’s choreography as familiar as breath.
He scanned for fingerprints. None. Not unexpected.
He checked the ink. The dye was a shade too purple, not standard office supply. He filed this observation under Possible Lead.
He took scrapings from the adhesive of the notes with a fine scalpel. Nothing helpful.
He stared at the photograph of Robin again, at the way the boy’s left foot was cocked just so, the minute shift in posture that betrays readiness even under sedation.
He ran the note under ultraviolet. The purple ink fluoresced, but more interesting was the faint stain at the margin. He removed the note from under the lamp, placed it beneath the gas chromatograph. He waited as the instrument whined and shuddered. The analysis completed the minute the particle analysis ended.
It took him more than an hour, bent over the console, Ra’s not saying a word and just watching him, when a slight smile flickered over his features.
The result: a residue of scopolamine. Trace elements of atropa belladonna, the alkaloid favoured by the Brotherhood of the Demon for its mind-clouding properties. He remembered the scent from years before, the way it clung to cloth, how it made a tongue go numb. The Brotherhood’s lair, last known, was in the far east — India, perhaps, or Tibet. He checked the timestamp on Robin’s watch in the photo, subtracting the time zone difference. The window tightened. He checked his files for a location, sent the needle running through the database.
“You smile, Batman!” Ra’s called out, stepping closer again, hope in his tone. “You have made a discovery?”
“I think so…” Batman considered the note. The ink was a custom blend. Non-US origin. Balkan, perhaps. And then, the computer told him a location. “Yes. Unmistakable bits of a certain herb. One used in ceremonies of a far eastern cult of killers. They’re called the Brotherhood of the Demon. And I recall that they’re currently located in Calcutta.”
The man straightened his back and looked up, saw hope and eagerness in the face of Ra’s al Ghul. But Bruce was, now at least, fairly certain it was an act, a mask. He had to stay vigilant. ‘Ra’s al Ghul’ did, after all, mean ‘The demon’s head’ in Arabic. It might, but probably wasn’t, a coincidence.
“Then we shall proceed to India immediately!” Ra’s, and the burly man who acted as his shadow, moved towards the stairs. “I have an aircraft waiting nearby.”
Batman, closer to the stairs by a step, moved towards them, but was pushed out of the way by said shadow.
“Infidel! My Lord al Ghul leaves the chamber first.”
Only when Ra’s was three steps up, did Batman shake the rough hand off.
“Ugh, okay, friend! You’ve made your point!”
“Pray forgive my guard Ubu! He is trained to my complete service… And a little overzealous.”
He was that, alright. He was also, very obviously, strong. Then, they arrived at the aircraft. Batman noted the absence of entourage, the lack of weapons. Ra’s was as vulnerable as he allowed himself to appear. Or, made it look like it. Bruce’s frown deepened, his theory strengthening. They boarded in silence. The jet’s interior was spare, except for a row of seats and a single inlaid table. Ra’s sat, legs crossed, and regarded Batman as one might an upstart junior officer.
“Your ward and my daughter are in mortal danger! Indeed Batman, they may already be dead. Yet you show no signs of agitation… Nor do you exhibit any curiosity concerning my humble self! Have you no feelings?”
“Plenty of them. But it won’t do any good for me to allow my emotions to gain control. And certainly not while there’s a job ahead. For years I've trained myself to concentrate on the thing at hand.”
“The detective’s heart. Always colder than his mind,” Ra’s supplied, his gaze never leaving Batman.
“I have no need for an aching heart when it serves nothing but clouding of judgement,” Batman replied, coldly.
“Is that what you tell the boy? That you feel nothing for him?”
Batman turned towards the man.
“He knows the mission comes first. And he knows I will do my best to rescue him. He is aware of my heart, even if it may elude your observations.”
Ra’s snorted at that.
“My daughter would say the same. A pity, to lose them both. But perhaps this will bring us some amusement, no?”
Batman studied Ra’s, the motionless precision, the way he never touched his face, never betrayed the smallest nervous tic. They were so alike, he and Ra’s; both monastically trained, both marbled with the same rarefied pride.
“Later I’ll cry, if I must.”
It was a dismissal as obvious as any. They did not talk for the rest of the flight.
And the flight was over, quickly. Calcutta. City of a thousand miseries. A million tears. Behind every door lurked a horror, behind every smile a knife. Ra’s was already at the door.
“I have contacts in the city. We will begin at the old temple.”
“I have another plan, first.”
He took the lead. If his fears were true, in this city, Ra’s al Ghul was a king. Batman was the one who knew how to slip between cracks, how to make himself invisible in a place where the air itself was thick with attention though. Ra’s just nodded, allowing it for now. They made their way through alleys and backstreets, the scent of petrol and scorched sugarcane overwhelming. Ra’s walked like a man who has never been prey; Batman like a shadow with unfinished business.
Soon, close to the market, Batman stopped them. Grabbed a sheet of one of the many laundry lines. Wrapped himself in it until he looked no different than the beggars around. Ra’s stayed back, to observe. He had uttered the lie of not being much help in regards to fighting, and Batman could see in his movements he was a well versed fighter. But, he allowed the ruse. He had a ward to rescue.
“Alms! Alms for the love of Allah!” he called out to the people crossing. Several people ignored him. Two of them stared at him, a hint of irritation in their features. “Alms, good brothers?” he asked them.
“Nay, old priest! We come to take, not give! Empty your begging cup… Or suffer our anger!”
Batman grabbed the staff he had been leaning on tighter, before whacking the man who had spoken over the head.
“Such threats bode you ill!” He then hit the other man, both going down but still fighting dirty. “Surrender!” Batman crowed, and threw off the linen. “For my anger dwarves yours!”
“Aieee!” called the second man. “Beneath the robes, a devil from hell! A Bat Man!”
“Stupid waver of sticks!” the one who threatened him spoke. “Your weapon means nothing to me!”
He got up, then pulled a knife.
“This only increases my fury!” Batman shouted as he grabbed the attacker’s wrist in a firm grip, twisting it before landing a solid kick in his stomach.
Then, he pulled the gasping man close.
“I would have information of you. Where lurks the Brotherhood of the demon?” The man laughed. “Fool! Think you that I will not? Speak the truth! Now?!”
The laugh vanished when Batman’s hand on his collar tightened, his fist raising back to strike again.
“Stay your fist!” the man relented. “Please! The brotherhood hides at the end of the Alley of Widows!”
Ra’s came from where he had been hidden, a smile on his features. It certainly had an effect on Batman, as it was very unsettling. He just could not name the reason.
“Well done, detective!” the older man congratulated.
“It was a long shot…” Batman replied, staring to move towards the pointed location. “That I’d attract someone who had the information. Fortunately, it paid off!”
“The alley of Widows is on this very avenue” Ubu said then, and gestured calmly into the direction they were walking in.
The temple was old, older than the city itself. It sat at the crest of a hill, its stone lions missing teeth and tails. Batman noted the tracks in the dust outside—three men, one limping. He memorized the spacing, the shoe sizes. Inside, the air was wet and pungent.
They were not alone.
And yet, none of the men even seemed to be willing to stop them. They saw, Batman was sure, but did not act on it. Inside, it was eerily quiet.
“Quiet, isn’t it?” Bruce asked his companions as he stepped into the room first. That wasn’t right. He frowned. “Maybe too quiet…” he mumbled, then, to cover the way his mind started racing.
He sensed the ambush before he reached the next doorway. There was a thrum in the ground, a predatory rhythm that was not human. He opened the door anyway, and stepped through.
The thing leapt from behind a toppled angel, rosettes of spots moving faster than sound in the air. Leopard, bigger than any found outside myth, its eyes slashed with recognition: this was not a random predator, but a trained one. He sidestepped. Twisted. Almost without thinking, he smashed his elbow into the mouth of the animal, locking its jaws open. Batman rolled over the animal’s body, letting his own momentum carry him past the reach of claw. He threw the cape like a matador, blinding the beast for a heartbeat, then planted a fist in the animal’s floating rib. The impact staggered it but didn't stop it. He moved further, rolling them both until he was firmly below, able to push up, force his elbow forward. Forward, then outward. He pulled his arm around and broke the animal's neck. Panting, he got up.
“Excellent, detective! Is there a limit to your prowess?” Ra’s al Ghul asked, walking carefree as he stepped fully into the room.
“That leopard was trained!” is all Batman can reply, his breath still a bit haggard. He looked up, around them. “Someone taught it to act as a guardian. The question is… What is it guarding? Nothing in the place except that desk…”
He carefully moved closer towards it.
“Curious,” expressed the older man and stepped closer to the desk as well.
“And nothing on or in the desk except this map… A chart of the Himalayan mountains!”
And truly, on the desk’s surface, a map of the Himalayas was tacked, every peak and pass marked in red ink. Batman studied the map, then the desk itself. No markings on the map, no notes.
“Hum. There’s something interesting…” Batman murmured. “A faint scratch on the paper… As though someone with a long fingernail traced a route!”
“How interesting indeed. So we shall head over to the himalayan mountains, then.”
“I can fund the next part of the trip, the plane is mostly empty.”
Ra’s shook his head.
“No, my friend. It is my aircraft, and I shall pay for its fuel. You were the one who found us the clue! Let us go back to it, then.”
Batman opened his palms to show he was okay with that, and stayed back to let Ra’s exit first. His jaw set.
The flight to the north was a blur—Batman recalled only the sensation of thin air and the sound of his own heart beating out seconds, every one a deadline. They landed on a plateau dotted with the bones of old aircraft, the tarmac pitted by years of frost and sun, high enough so everything around them was covered in deep snow. It was Mount Nanda Devi, 25,645 feet in the air, brutally thin, cold and pressing in their lungs. With every breath, every step, Batman was glad to have packed his warm coat and snow goggles and that the last upgrade of the Batsuit had included warmer, insulated boots. Batman and Ra’s moved in silence, their boots crunching the old crust. Far below, the night glowed blue with moonlight, the slopes of the Himalaya folding and unfolding like the pages of a book read by ghosts. And when they had started their ascent, they had finally found footsteps. Lots of them.
“It hasn’t snowed in several days, so the trail is still clear as day!” Batman said, loudly over the biting wind.
“Yes, the abductors obviously brought your ward and my daughter up this way.”
Ra’s voice was calm, collected and stable, without much worry about the cold or their situation at all. Him and Ubu, too, had warm coats in their plane and winter boots to don. Clearly, they were ready. For every occasion. The two of them were not even worried about the massive carved face in the stone, one that was clearly in the likelihood of Deadman. They had to be very close to the mystical, hidden and only rumoured city of Nanda Parbat, the apparent high seat of the Demon’s brotherhood, the location of their inner sanctum, if the tales were to be believed. In fact, they did not even notice it actively, meaning they either had seen it often enough for it to become routine - a worrying thought, but not a new one - or they were truly blind - which he genuinely doubted.
After a while, maybe an hour, maybe more, Ra’s stopped on a ledge.
“You too tired to go on? We can make camp here” Batman offered, behind him.
“No, detective. Although I have not all your skills, I am your equal in stamina. But give me a moment to gaze…” The man took a deep, calming breath, as if to take it all in with more than one sense. “It is a beauty to which my soul responds… So stark, so pure, as unpainted as my desert home. I am cursed with a love for emptiness… Desolation.”
Batman sighed, and looked ahead.
“Would you mind me going ahead?” he asks, looking more at Ubu than Ra’s, who was still busy with the apparent beauty in nature.
The taller man just grunted. Batman moved ahead, to the wall in front of them and to small metallic spikes just long enough to hold onto, hammered into the mountain itself.
“Tell me your life-story later… When the kids are safe! These foot- and handholds have been hacked from the ice recently.”
Slowly, the three men scaled the mountain, fingers and faces grown numb, and their breath rattling harshly in their throats by now. Still, they forced themselves farther. The Batman found his path surely, swiftly... unaware that he was caught in a gunsight. And then, without further warning, the boom of a heavy caliber rifle echoed through the cavasses, making all of them hold on tighter, and press themselves to the mountain. Ra’s groaned, apparently hit, and Obu climbed back down, to take him to the lower edge they had passed minutes ago. To check on his master. Batman was a perfect target now, no place to hide. No cover, no chance to run, and soon the sniper would find the range. He had to zero in, as the bullets were already growing ever closer. He looked down to find Ubu cradling his master’s body, checking him over in relative safety. It left him with the choice to try a truly risky manoeuvre, but one that would be his only shot, one that would hopefully turn the tides. He had to get out of the ropes. It was insane, truly, and yet Bruce did not see an alternative. The second that had worked, and he held on to the rope with his hands only, he shed his heavy parka, hoping for more movement despite the cold air biting his skin and body the second it fell. The falling fabric served as a distraction as well, one that worked for barely a second, when the heavy cloak was shot clean through. And yet it allowed for a second of faith, of distraction, that enabled the vigilante to leap.
Across the chilly chasm, he flung himself, a desperate, final attempt to reach the steep slope fifteen feet away. A murderer in front, and yawning doom below. He landed safely, but sunk into the deep snow, deep enough to cover him whole. Oh, but the Bat would not be defeated that easily, not by the elements of nature. He could feel the cold, his suit getting damp and frozen, could hear the near silent footsteps of the sniper atop his head, the snow making soft noises when pressure hit it, could pinpoint the exact moment the man was close. Batman’s hand shot from the hole his body had made, gripping tightly to the ankle of the man in a yellow parka, and moved the hand to his knee. He pulled, sharply, and when the man fell down, the other hand, balled to a fist, threw the sniper’s head backwards. He fell into the snow, and didn’t move. Then, and only then, did Bruce heave himself from the hole, brushed off the snow and started walking. Proceeding onward, Batman was certain that his quarry was nearby, and that they were expecting his imminent arrival. Nothing all too concerning, thankfully. He knew by now what was going on, and while it felt vindicating, it was still an annoyance.
As if to prove his point, the loud sound of a chopper sounded, echoing from the walls. He barely contained the urge to roll his eyes. He had a guess who was inside the helicopter. Starting a sprint, he took the trail at a dead run, his lungs burning from the cold. The fortress door was iron, a relic from an older, crueler era, hammered right into the stone. Before he had a chance to get a closer look though, two more men in equally yellow parkas, both armed with heavy machine guns, stepped in his path.
He groaned internally. At last, a pair of bona fide brothers of the demon. Playing at guard duty, no less. It was a bit disappointing, as they looked like regular creeps who needed to prove their manhood with noisy sticks.
“Halt, intruder! Halt, or I’ll…”
“Can it, sonny-boys!”, he called, and pushed their weapons up. “You don’t dare use that thing… As we both know!”
A flicker of surprise moved over the features of the younger one, barely a fracture of a second, but it made the smirk all the more validating. So he’d been right. He continued past them, not caring about the weapons anymore. They would not use them. With a groan, the door popped and swung open. He slid through, closing it softly behind him.
Inside, the temperature dropped. The stone was grey and absorbent, drinking all light. Batman moved by instinct, fingers grazing the wall. He smelled old blood, incense, and the rot of offerings left too long. He descended a spiral stair. Each landing was identical—bare, unmarked, a Möbius strip of stone. The only change: at the third landing, a spray of blood spattered across the wall. He followed it.
At the bottom lay a chamber, cold as a tomb. Robin sat in the corner, hands bound behind his back, but otherwise without fixtures to the bank he was seated on. He was shivering slightly, but his eyes were clear and defiant. There were two guards—tall, scarred, one of them a scarab tattoo on his cheek—standing beside the boy, machine guns held loosely. Three more were in the chamber, and all of them were wearing yellow. It was truly an eyesore. This time, just hoodies though. It was warmer in here, if not warm enough to keep Robin in his shorts from shivering.
Robin grinned up and said, cocky as always, “Batman, good to see you, friend!”
“Same here, Robin!” was his dry reply, before he moved towards the bindings of the boy.
“Stop!” one of the guards crooned, lifting his machine gun, followed by “You can’t…”
As Batman slices through the ropes, he just shrugs off the comment.
“Sure I can. Watch me.” Softer, towards Dick, he continued. “How have they been treating you, kid?”
The menace had the audacity to smirk. Really, what was he going to do with him?
“The chow was terrible, but I liked the atmosphere. Any hassles getting here?”
Batman quipped his answer, uncaring about the guns (all five of them) raised towards them. Robin eyed them quickly, but if Batman was calm, he decided to remain so as well.
“None to complain of. But do me a favor: next time hoods snare you, ask them to stay in the U.S. I hate long trips.”
Stepping back to survey the chamber’s single exit with the rope sliced through cleanly, Robin rubbed his wrists faintly, and then, just for a moment, his bare arms. Flexed his gloved fingers to get some warmth back into them. Just then, a large, burly man in a goat head walked in.
“On your knees, intruder! The supreme brother enters!”
“I’ll give the kneeling a miss, if you don’t mind. And even if you do! In the last three days, I’ve mixed with cutthroats and a killer leopard.” Robin looked jealous at that, and Batman again had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Seriously, this kid… “I’ve bruised my knuckles on various chins, I climbed a mountain, and I’ve dodged bullets. So I don’t have any patience left for phony rituals!"
Robin moved his shoulders, cracking his neck.
“All while I was bored out of my mind? No fair you got to have all the fun…”
“Robin…” Bruce sighed, quietly, earning himself a grin. He continued, louder. “In fact, I don’t have any patience left, period. You’ve been putting me through paces and you think I’m too dumb to understand it. You think a man with my training couldn’t see what’s been happening? From the very beginning, I saw the whole deal was a charade!” The guards started murmuring. “Ra’s al Ghul and his ox of a servant showing right after Robin disappeared,” he continued, voice cold now. “That was a joke. Too quick, too big a coincidence. Al Ghul’s story of his daughter’s identical disappearance,” and here Robin crossed his arms in annoyance as well, “wouldn’t have fooled a moron! Then in Calcutta… Ubu always made a big routine of letting his boss go ahead of me… Except when there was danger! Conclusion… Ubu knew, the leopard was waiting. The map was the clincher. I told a little white lie. Because there was no fingernail scratch on the map. And yet, Ubu and al Ghul took me to this specific mountain. This one, of the thirteen Himalayas.” He turned his face sideways, to look at Robin again. “I’m tired of talking. You ready, Robin?”
“Check, Batman. Shall we begin?”
All five men, each in the horrible yellow, charge with their weapons. The one in the goat did not move. Batman calculated the distance, the odds. He moved first.
The first man went down to a nerve strike, dropping his gun with a yelp. Robin swept the leg, then snagged the gun mid-air. The second attacker came at Batman from above, but Batman used his own momentum, flipping the man over his back and into the wall. The other three two closed in, moving in tandem. Batman and Robin traded a look—then split, each taking a flank. Robin disabled his man with a buttstroke to the head, then tossed the gun to Batman, who, after having kicked his attacker to the ground, caught it and leveled it at the final guard.
The man dropped his weapon. He was trembling.
“You lot get by on fear,” Batman says. “But I don’t do fear.”
He steps past the man, Robin at his side. After that, Batman moves to the goat-headed man in two swift strikes.
“Your cohorts are finished! Your whole bloody crew is done for! No sense in your hiding behind that mask any longer…” He ripped the disguise off the man who had demanded them to their knees earlier, revealing Ubu and declaring, “It’s a poor disguise by one as big and ugly as you, Ubu.” The burly man doesn’t reply. “Admit it, Ubu. You’ve been taking my measure… You’ve been wondering whether you can handle me. You want to prove yourself against the Batman.”
“American…” the man rumbled then. “Filthy american…” He pulled a knife, and striked - missing Batman’s throat when the vigilante dropped to a crouch. “I shall dance on your corpse!”
“Not likely! Oh sure, you’re large, powerful…” Batman dodged the next strike sideways. “... but size and strength don’t count for much! Skill is the item! Agility helps, too! And those things you lack! You’re clumsy!” Coming back around from his feint to the right side, he swung his fist into Ubu’s stomach, hard. “Clumsy and soft!”
“Ohhhhh”, the man groaned.
“A gut like a pillow! And a chin as fragile as a soap bubble!” On the next hit, he punched the man from below, the force of his hit lifting Ubu a few centimetres into the air. “You’ve been getting by, by scaring people. Well. The Batman doesn’t scare!” The next and last hit threw the large man backwards, into the wall. “After you, Ubu!”
Or, a false one. The false wall—a heavy curtain—ripped down, and the fortress master entered, revealed as Ra’s al Ghul himself, completely unharmed, with Talia in white beside him. Batman’s eyes narrowed as the final piece fell into place.
“Look who’s joined the merriment, Robin! The honourable Ra’s al Ghul and his girl-child!”
“Ahhh… My dear detective. I should have realised I could not escape your scrutiny.”
“Don’t bother with an elaborate explanation. I know you faked being shot. I figured out everything…” At that, Batman sighs, quietly. “Except why.” Ra’s smile grew at that, and Talia looked outright smug. “You’ve staged a complicated quest and the dangers along the way were real. You would have let me be killed if I hadn’t saved myself! You went to a lot of trouble for a game!”
The older man stepped forward, posture proud.
“No game, detective. Your admirable mind has reasoned all. Save the obvious…” Bruce frowned at that, and Robin stepped closer, stiffening again, expecting an attack. “... That my darling Talia loves you!” Ra’s smiled and replied, “My organisation is vast, and I find myself ready to retire.” Fast, faster than he could even react, the pretty brunette moved forward and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s cheek, low enough to hit skin and not the cowl. “Talia has fallen in love with you. This was a test of your worthiness as my heir and son-in-law. You have proven yourself exceptional—take my daughter’s hand and my legacy.” Ra’s clapped his hands once, a sound that rung in the bones. “Of course, I was never in danger. Not truly. But you—you passed. You chose the boy. You chose loyalty over victory. Talia was correct about you.”
Batman’s gaze darted to Talia. She held it, her eyes two flames behind the glass. Ra’s descended the dais. “I am old, Detective. I need an heir worthy of my empire. Talia will have no less. You alone have earned this.”
Batman shook his head.
“I work alone.”
Ra’s laughed, sharp and genuine.
“So you say, but here you stand, your partner at your side, my own daughter’s heart in your hand. The future belongs to you, Batman.”
Talia stepped forward, extending a hand.
“You don’t have to take it. But you could.”
Batman looked at her, at the hall, at Robin—who stood, battered but smirking, all raw energy and bruised pride.
He didn’t take her hand.
“I am not interested in your daughter, no matter her feelings’ nature.”
She blinked, slowly lowering the hand again. Ra’s looked like now he actually had the urge to murder the Bat.
“You dare to turn this down?”
Batman turned, signalled Robin.
“You have said so yourself. I choose loyalty over victory. I choose a sane mind over powerhungry madness.”
Together, they walked back up the corridor, boots silent on the stone. Behind them, Ra’s and Talia watched, unmoving, like statues cut from obsidian and bone.
Outside, the snow started falling thickly, blotting out the stars. Robin tucked his chin against the wind, grinning up at Batman.
“You ever think about retiring?” he asked.
Batman looked at the sky, the blackness endless.
“Not once.”
They descended, shadows in the blizzard, and the world closed behind them.