Foundation like the skies, [Ra's al Ghul, Lex]

[Deleted]

Day 5: 

It was a pale, void, sandy path beaten into bleached texture by the face of a never-resting sun, moved beyond parched into a realm where water was a distant memory grasped with desperation by the remnants of scrub and dead wood. The land here was shaped by winds, the ground flattened long ago by forgotten rivers, crafting ancient roads down the first of golden trade routes. Along these back paths Arab Traders and Venetians and Cathayan alike passed under protections of conquerers from Alexander to Selucia, Mehmed II to the Great Khan himself. The Wealth of Nations were crafted on these dry beds, sacred to both God and Mammon. 

The Caravanserai had been unused for centuries, old remnants of mud brick and old memories, at one point it had served to service the caravans that rode East into the desert. In its walls were once silks and silvers, spices and gold, laid upon carpets so intricate it was said that in their patterns one could read the history of things to come. It lay now empty, little more than a marker for traveling nomads, a place for wanderers and traders to pass in lesser numbers. Progress had made a mockery of the caravanserai, sitting now only as a pile of mud baked in an unchanging sun. 



The caravan master leapt athletically from the back of his camel with a light step, lashing the camel to the post and shouted "We camp here, from the noonday sun. We move again at night. Water the camels" The man was European and moved with a skilled touch. 

A young man climbed from the back of his pack animal. Red hair near shoulder length, eyes afire with the light of destiny. He wore a broad hat to keep the sun from his face, his mouth covered with the white linen of bandana, now lowered as he climbed down. 



"Mr. Cain" he asked, as one of the caravan men grasped the camel's reins. He moved with certainty towards the mater, not even 20 yet, not yet a man, but still he walked with a casual arrogance that marked him out. "Are we to stop here then? Instead of pressing on?"

The older man grumbled as he finished securing the camels. "Yes, boy. We'll be stopping here for the worst of the day. You should learn now that in the desert there are two kings whose will cannot be thwarted. One is the eye of the Sun, the other is the will of the Demon."  The master began to unload the caravan, he threw a pack to the young boy. "For you the third will is mine. You have paid me to keep you safe, but there are no shirkers in this caravan, boy. And you would do well to learn from the natives how to dress. You wear too heavy a cloth." 

The boy caught the package, glanced at it then dropped it, reaching under his coat and pulling out the small box. He pushed the button and on four of the camels the packages blew off with hydrolic hiss, packages striking the ground and rolling towards the center of the courtyard. The tents popped fully, hissing for a moment as the springs moved outwards, the tents setting themselves up, a post rising as the camp begins to build itself. The young man picked up the package and carefully placed it next to one of the now fully established tents, the other men watching the show with interest. "Mr. Cain, I'm not concerned with my own personal comfort, I may not have the native flair that the ancients had for such a landscape. But I believe you'll find me to be adaptable, and that we live in a new age."

He looked over his shoulder and said "And boy is such an inelegant term, Mr. Cain. One suited well for petty preening displays of lesser men than I know you to be. Also it is not well suited for the man paying you. Mr. Luthor will suffice." He straightens his hat as he feels the cooling charge within his coat powered by the solar panels sewn and blotted on his hat and coat. He smiled as he stared up at the sun for a moment. "And I believe I shall accept the rage filled eye of this Sun, Mr. Cain, and I shall transform the heat towards my own progress." He looks at Mr. Cain and takes the small folding box from the back of the camel, unfolding it and placing it on the ground, setting up a tube to the top, placing it towards the direction of the breeze.

Cain was impassive and then nodded "As you say, Mr. Luthor. Your knots need work." Cain unties and reties one of the new knots in the self establishing tent. Luthor watches with furrowed brow and a look of irritation, then smiles and laughs. 

"As you say, Mr. Cain. My knots need work. What primitive and ancient ways will you teach me of now?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Gather some of the camel's dung, we'll need fire. Achmed will assist how to set it against the wind, then we cook for tonight and nap away from the heat of the sun. We move at sunset." 

--- THAT NIGHT --- 


The camels moved at night to the south, away from the comfort of the old trails of the Silk Road. The land turned from hard pack to soft sand as even the last clutching remnants of civilized human passage were worn away into the infinite void of the desert. A full moon overhead lit the path clearly, although it lit only indecipherable changes in the sand. Lex Luthor rode beside Mr. Cain and said "Tell me more of the Demon's Head, Mr. Cain. What sort of man am I hoping to find in this desert?"

Cain shook his head as he traveled near the front of the caravan. "No man, Luthor. He whom you seek is immortal. . . with a name that stretches back into times of legends" 

Lex Luthor raised an eyebrow incredulously "Immortal? How is this possible? Perhaps his title is passed on, and perhaps he is old, but I'm not here for stories, but instead for a man, flesh and bone to speak with. To learn from"

Cain stared out for a time and then said quietly. "You'll find that Ra's al Ghul collects legend about his body the way that a shoe collects dust, or a face is weighed with age. The face of the dunes shift in the wind, empires rise and empires fall, but Ra's al Ghul remains inviolate, unchanged, weighed not by age but by tales that surround him. It is told, that many years ago the black plaque spread out among the Mongols killing hundreds, no thousands of people.

Those who were still healthy ran away to save their own lives leaving behind their sick loved ones to let fate decide their futures. Among the death of his people, one boy was left behind to rot away. Body wasting, but not quite dead, his soul departed the body and he went before the Khazan of Hell itself there to be cast away as is the way of nomads and demons. But, the boy was cunning and challenged the Khazan to a riddle contest.

The Khazan asked a cunning riddle offering life for the boy if the boy solved it. The boy, instead offered the life of his people in exchange for the death of his people upon the solution. The Khazan thought it good sport, and thus asked the riddle "A house based on a foundation like the skies
, A house one has covered with a veil like a secret box
, A house set on a base like a goose
 One enters it blind,
 Leaves it seeing" It is said that the boy sat and thought for a time, and then came up with the answer. The Khazar, angered by the boy's accuracy, sought to cheat, and claimed the souls of all of the boy's people. In a rage, the boy leapt out and strangled the Khazan of hell, and claimed his power, ripping the head from the demon itself. It is said that he took the power of the demon, and used its head as his title, Ra's al Ghul. The Demon's head. . . and with that came immortality, and power over life and death."

Lex Luthor rode along and listened quietly. "Impressive if true."

Cain smiled and said "Impressive if false as well, Mr. Luthor. You will learn in time the power of a story to change the face of the world."

Lex Luthor smiled faintly as he said "I wonder how the power of story compares with the power of fact." 

Cain shrugged, the camel moving with deliberate pace "That is something you might wish to ask, should you survive the meeting with . . . " he grows silent, riding silently. "Bandits. Over the dune. Behind me, Mr. Luthor." He raises a hand into the air and then lowers it slowly. Luthor moved the camel back, but the dromedary was willful. A kick to the side set it right as it moved backwards. The caravan moved with caution, circling and preparing, guns out, staring at the distance at the men on horses in the distance. Clearly visible as silhouettes in moonlight 

A shot in the night, Cain clutched his chest and fell to the ground. Around the caravan the sand moved suddenly as men in cloaks arose from underneath the sand.

[Deleted]

It was an ambush, the men in the distance had been meant to be seen, to pull the caravan into a circle over the hidden bandits underneath the sand. They arose with gusto, fast and vicious with the caravan master shot and fallen, they made quick work as the fight became close quarters. At the last moment Cain reached up with sword and swatted the side of Lex Luthor's Camel, who ran. Lex Luthor attempted to regain control of the beast as it rode away from the bandits, snarling as he tried to pull it back, instead it moved quickly towards the remaining bandits. 

He pulled hard, but the distant group of bandits had horses and made to intercept. Lex Luthor felt something hit him on the shoulder and he felt himself hurled from the camel, rolling onto the sand, hat lost, coat having taken most of the blow of what appeared to be a gunshot wound, Lex Luthor found himself at the foot of the dune kneeling, his hat by his side, his body surrounded by men on horses. In the distance the screaming had subsided, the caravan slaughtered, laughter of bandits. 

One of the men on horseback stared at Lex Luthor in disgust and called up to another man on horseback <English perhaps? The white man comes to the desert dressed like a cowboy. What should we do with him?> 

The second man shrugged and said <He's not dressed like the others, Bahij. . . maybe a ransom. > 

A third rider came from the hillside and shouted down <Razim, they are all disposed. We have taken the contents of the caravan. > 

The second rider, Razim, shouted back <Excellent, get the men to divide, then we return to camp. Save the camels and the water. . . we divide equally>

The third rider left and the first said to Razim <So what to do with the boy? Ransom then?>

Razim considered and said <Too much trouble, kill him and take his hat for me as a trophy.>

Lex Luthor stood up slowly, the riders all had guns pointed to him as he said <Or, you could take me to my destination. I seek the Demon's Head>

Razim raised a hand and stared at Lex Luthor, square in the eyes, then laughed <You seek the legend of the Demon's head? You court death. I do you a service to slaughter you now.>

Lex Luthor looked at Razim for a moment saying <You've slaughtered my caravan. I paid well for them to lead me to the Demon's Head, and you have destroyed them, and taken my things. You are leader here, no?>

Razim glared at Lex Luthor, more of the riders were approaching, now there appeared to be about eight surrounding the man. They sat on horseback, tall and proud, Luthor appeared very small from that vantage, square shouldered and defiant as he was, ignoring the guns pointed at him. Rahim glared with anger and spat saying <Here I hold your life in my hands. To you that makes me your God.> 

Lex Luthor moved quickly, flicking his arms up over his shoulders quickly as two objects flew from his hands. He dove forwards at that moment as bright lights flashed like the glare of a noonday sun. There were screams as the loud blast like thunder from the twin explosives disoriented, the sand began to move behind him as the approaching remainder of the bandit band were knocked down by the sudden displacement of sand.



Sand fused to glass as the intense heat baked it, men fell from horses, it was pandemonium from a sleeve. For just a few seconds it was as if hell had broken loose at the foot of the now sinking dune. The bandits were disoriented, bloodied. In the distance the remainder were distracted, but had now turned to see what was occurring. 

Luthor didn't have much time, but then again it was more than adequate for his purposes. Luthor grabbed the leg of Razim and pulled him from his horse with one hand, moving past the two riders, he twirled just enough to grab the gun from the man's belt and put it to his head, kicking the back of his knee and forcing him to the ground.  He then said <I bow to no God, and your life's worth is only what you impress upon me, Razim>

Bahij glared down from the horse, crossing his arms as more of the riders approached <Do what you will to my second in command. I care little for his life. I could replace him instantly, with another. Perhaps Aziz> He nodded to the third rider and stared smugly at Luthor. 

Luthor looked at Bahij for a moment, arm wrapped around the then twisted the gun quickly. It went off with a loud noise that caused Razim to blink and shake as Bahij fell from the horse, the hole in his neck spurting blood as an unfortunate sounding gurgling and bubbling gasp marked his last words. Before a few seconds could pass the gun went off again as Aziz lifted his hands before his face. It left his chest unprotected as he fell off the horse, gasping. It might not be instantly fatal, but in the desert it might be.

The gun back to Razim's head Luthor said <I suppose that means you're in charge for the next few seconds. Shall we extend it.> 

Razim shouted out <Down, down. . . We take him south!>

Lex Luthor smiled as he said <I knew you could be reasonable>  There was a sensation as something tied around Razim's neck, he reached up to feel the wire as Lex said <No, not so quickly. You might pull the wire from the triggering mechanism . . . you saw what effect it had on the sand and your men. What would such a device do if triggered next to your head?> He let go of Razim and said <I'm the only one who can disarm the device. . . I think you want me alive> That much was true, but still, a simple cutting of the wire might just as easily disarm the makeshift wire trigger that he used. With luck, Razim wouldn't think of that. 

Razim blinked and swallowed as he stood up. Lex Luthor spat in his face and then punched him in the gut, a sucker punch to let out the air. Doubled over Razim sought to catch his breath as Lex Luthor stared at the group. <You might kill me. . . but I promise I won't go alone. If I get to my destination, you're free to go, and I'll pay you the bonus I was going to pay that Caravan. Cut your losses and consider this a good deal.> He looked at Razim and said <We ride now. . . and if I die, the rest of the ordinance on my body goes off too. It's connected to my heart beat, and you saw what I did with two of the devices. Do you want to know how many more I have on me? You might be able to outrun justice, but you can't outrun that type of explosion.> 

He walked with certainty towards Bahij's horse, grabbing his hat with one motion, and putting it on as he strode towards the horse, climbing onto its back. Move with confidence, sell the lie and hope they don't call the bluff. Lex Luthor didn't let himself look relieved, he glared at Razim and the rest of the men. Razim moved quickly and climbed onto the back of the horse, scurrying before saying <We move south!>

[Deleted]

---Day 8---

The cliffs stood before them in the distance Razim gestured upwards and said <And there you see it, Mr. Luthor. The ribs of the demon. . . it is there that the Demon Head is said to make camp. . . are you certain you wish to still see him? You can still turn back now. . . run fast and maybe live some before he finds you.>

Luthor looked at Razim with an annoyed expression <Really now? Why would I come this way just to turn back now?> It had been a straightforward few days on the path, he'd slept reasonably soundly with the killswitch in his hand to one of the explosives, and had only needed to kill one more bandit to prove his point in the middle of the night. The rest had been cowed without notable difficulty. 

Razim shrugged and said <There are tales of the Demon's Head that come from time before time. I have killed hundreds of men, Mr. Luthor, faced the eye of Shamash the sun at midday. I have fought many battles, seen many sickness, wandered the deserts alone without water. I once said I feared no man> Luthor glared for a moment. He'd seen Razim's fearlessness clearly and found it wanting. Razim continued <But I fear the Demon, I fear his touch, his eye, his . . . thoughts. . . it is said that there was once a city to the north of here. A prosperous town known as Al Thahab, the city of gold. It is said that it stretched for several miles, from edge to edge of the valley. From stone to stone, build upon sand, the flat portion of this land was made of a Sultanate that was said to have risen from the sun itself, with richness hewn from the stone. A city of gold and stone, a garden in the desert. It is said that once the city had a feast to celebrate a year of jubilee, for every day of one then two years feasting and celebration. . . drawn from the land about. A place of plenty amongst starvation. . .> 

<but such opulence caught the eye of the Demon's Head. It is said that he came to the city with a test. A simple test before the city fathers. He presented to the Sultan a challenge for the life of his city. To pick one man, the most noble and greatest man in the city, the most humble of men, and to send him as a servant to serve at the fortress of the Demon's Head for three days. . . There was a competition in the city to see who would be servant to the Demon. . . three men came before the Sultan, one with strength of arms, the other with strength of knowledge, and the third with strength of spirit. . . The Sultan sent all three and told the Demon's head to pick which there would be. Ra's Al Ghul agreed to have all be his servants. . . and so he placed them in a room. A great hall with opulent food and feast before them. . . >

<The first man, a noble of strong arms saw the food and began to feast upon it, though he had done no service to the great Demon's Head. He ate and slurped and enjoyed the feast, though he had done no service. The second man full of wisdom ate nothing, for he knew that this was a test, and did not trust the demon's head. The third man, knowing hunger, but knowing he had done no service ate only bread and drank barely the water to survive before sitting to await command.>

<The first man fell asleep from food, and the Demon's head sent the first man to the city in disgrace. For he had broken the laws of hospitality of the Demon's Head, feasting as a master without accepting the burden of the servant.>

<The second night, the two remaining men were brought to a second room, a great library. . . The man of wisdom was tempted by the texts. . . but the man of great spirit sat still upon the floor. The man of wisdom read and read and read, seeking to learn the secrets of the Demon's head. Something to perhaps save his city. . . he read far into the night, until his eyes could take no more and he slept with head spinning with knowledge and new ideas. . . The Demon took the  returned the man of wisdom to the city.

<On the third night, the demon looked at the man of great spirit took him to the grand stables, large as a temple. .  and told him to clean after the horses, and told to stop for no reason. The man of spirit saw that the task was impossible, but began anyway.  >

<He swept and cleaned for the entire night, until he heard the cry of a child. Stopping for a moment, remembering his order, he continued to muck the stable. But the cry came again. The man stopped and walked outside to see a child, lost and tearful. A young girl, beautiful, but crying. The man went to the girl and asked what was wrong. She had told him that she was lost and hungry. So, taking the last piece of bread he had saved from his meal, he gave her the bread and brought her into the main fortress, escorting her back until she said she knew her way. He walked her to her bedroom, and locked the doorway. Then he returned to the stable to much, but to his dismay found the door locked and he was trapped outside. Instead he waited, kneeling down and waited for his failure to be known>

<The next day the Demon's head approached him and asked if the task was done. The man answered that it was not. Ra's Al Ghul asked why and the man truthfully told him of what had occurred. Ra's Al Ghul appeared not angry, however, but thoughtful, and said "You have shown disloyalty to my commands, and for that must be punished. But, what you did from compassion showed a loyalty to my family, for the girl was my daughter. For punishment I will not return you to your city, but instead you must repair the mistake by serving me all of my days. I shall make you and your family a people. But you shall never return to your home except but once to fetch your family who shall be slaves to me>

<The man of spirit returned to the city and was dismayed to find it crushed. For the feast that the man of strength ate was poisoned, and contained a plague that spread through the city. The books of the man of Wisdom contained mysteries of a cure for such a plague, but only served to worsen it, and he had unleashed winds and whirlwinds upon the city which racked the buildings. But, the family of the third man awaited outside the city, alive, the only survivors. Ra's Al Ghul kept them, it is said, and their decedents serve him still. And all that is left of the city of Gold is the legend of the wrath of Ra's Al Ghul.>

Lex Luthor was impressed by the quality of the story, but unimpressed by its content. Though he knew there was truth in some fairy tales, the story was likely much less dramatic, involving a plague and siege, if any such city existed. Time often bent fact into distorted reflections of truth, to make them seem larger than life. Lex Luthor however tried to glean what he could from the tale. Perhaps an engineered plague, perhaps hidden knoweldge that went astray. There would be traps to meet with the Demon, the man. . . undoubtedly, if these were the tales he spread of himself. Lex Luthor stared forward and said <A sobering tale, but even so. I must meet with the Demon's head. Take me to his encampment. . . and I shall set you free with the promised payment>

Razim shivered and said <I fear it> 

Luthor stared at Razim <More than the certainty of death should you fail to bring me to my destination?> 

Razim swallowed once and then stared at the cliffs. Luthor narrowed his eyes and said <So be it> He reached behind Razim's neck and removed the explosive. <Then I shall continue alone.> He stuck the explosive in Razim's pocket, and then tied the wire around his wrist and said <Ride away.> He grabbed the trigger from his own pocket and clutched it. <Should you not be out of range before I release this trigger, that explosive will destroy you. Once you are out of range, or one day has passed. . . you can cut the cord on your wrist without setting off the explosive. And you can throw the explosive away from your wrist without dying.> He reached into his pocket and then handed a paper to him. <This will lead you to the treasure I promised. Go> Razim saluted Luthor and then rode away, Luthor stared holding up the dead man's switch and then waited until the bandits were out of sight, then began to ride towards the cliffs. 

Hidden behind them was the encampment of Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head. . . and beyond that only mystery. "Here there be demons" Lex Luthor smiled to himself as he rode closer into the valley with his horse. He was used to mysteries, and he'd yet to find one that would master him. . . "Onwards, then" 

[Deleted]

Torn through the heart of the cliffs stretched a canyon, breaking through the rock face into a maze of various paths and routes, most which lead to demise with only one correct road which would take Luthor to his intended destination. Upon entering the narrow valley, it could be noticed that the sunlight was all most blocked entirely by the towering rock faces that sprawled high into the sky. There was just enough room for a horse to fit through comfortably, with anything larger finding it impossible to snake through the imposing labyrinth. Few people have claimed to have successfully navigated the canyons, with many travellers having succumbed to the trap of the cliffs, finding themselves lost in its miles of pathways until they eventually die of starvation. The desert might kill you but the Demon’s Canyon most certainly will.



Sound from the horse’s hooves would bounce across the closely knit walls, echoing any sounds for miles. However the strangest feeling of all, is that there is a constant feeling of eyes watching your every movement from the shadowy depths. The Natives of this land are wary of the many paths through the cliffs, condemning all who wish to travel through them. A terrible creature, they say, of shadows and darkness roams the Canyons, preying upon all who find themselves in their terrible hold. A Demon from hell itself, who calls the Desert its home. No one moves without its notice, its terrible gaze watching them. The cliffs have eyes. Many would suppress these rumors as nonsense, yet so many that enter the dominion of the Demon, are never seen or spoken of again. Legends and myths have their uses, Ra’s knew his better than anyone. Theatricality and deception are powerful agents to the uninitiated. People fear the Demon, so they will not bother the Demon.

Many of the rumors about this place have been purposely spread by the League, to work as a defence against those who would interfere in their plans. However occasionally someone does attempt to make their way to the heart of the Canyons, someone like Lex Luthor. After many hours of riding, he would begin to feel the air turn colder, even in the Desert heat, as certain rock formations would become familiar, proving that the Traveller has somehow become lost, repeating their steps. That is another illusion, with the mind playing tricks on the eyes, making people believes that they have lost their way through the Chasm. Suddenly however, after many hours of travelling, the fatigued and tired wanderer would find himself walking into a larger space, gazing upon an impressive Site. Carved out of the rock stood a fortress of immense size and scale. An archaeologist would date it at around three thousand years old, built as a Sanctuary in times of great trouble and danger. Even if an attacking force could make their way through the narrow paths, taking this Citadel would be no easy task. Time had weathered it from its original glory yet still it maintained an impressive and intimidating sight to behold.



A row of stairs ran up the side of the cliff that led to the Castle in the Cliff, ready to throw any unworthy seeker to their deaths. Upon approaching it, a violent gale of wind bolted through the entrance, lifting up small pockets of sand from the floor. Yet still there was no sign of the Demon or any of his minions, although nothing occurred without them knowing. All was silent, with not an animal stirring. Not even the wind howled any more, having vanished from sight. Shadows covered the entrance but no Guards stood watch, no defences were set up to stop people from entering. If the Demon had deemed you a threat, you would have died in the Canyons, never laying eyes upon the Fortress of The Demon.

[Deleted]

The seeker wandered through the canyon for an interminable amount of time, moving through the arcs and the crags, the labyrinth of the Valley of the Demon. He moved slowly at first, on horseback, looking over his shoulder at the lack of discernible markers or landmarks, it would be easy to be lost in this place, there was no map of the Valley of the Demon, at least not yet.

Lex Luthor reached again into his pack and pulled out the small objects. Climbing off the horse he planted two sticks into the dirt, then pulled out a small monitor and looked at it closely. He then tapped the top of the first stick, and started to dismantle the second, pulling apart the metal poles atop it to create something that appeared to be a satellite dish. He plugged the monitor into it using a small cord.

It took about two minutes to make preparations. . . and then he activated them both. A small blast as a minor explosion arose from the first stick shooting several small balls into the air. They held at the top of the arc, some floating above the canyon, some floating sideways. Blasts of light came from all of them, loud noises. And then the second stick started clicking loudly. 

Lex Luthor unplugged the monitor, and then packed up the sticks. The green light came from the screen, echolocation, laser guidance, GPS coordinates, these combined to make a makeshift map of the valley. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now. He packed the horse quickly and then considered the map, then rode again. 

He moved with caution, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. But even so, he knew he wasn't moving in circles. A bite to eat of the protein bar, he was running low on supplies. Most of the food had been destroyed in the raid, but even so, he felt he had an adequate amount for a time. The caloric count had been well established and the power charge from the hat and coat were consistent. But . . . the power was getting low in these shadowy areas, the batteries would die eventually. He moved forward, clear of mind, a grid pattern. He couldn't see movement, but he knew that if he maintained consistency, he'd find the encampment. Logic suggested it would remain in the middle, perhaps in the flat area. . . perhaps not. He moved forward, exhaling as he wiped the sweat from his brow and brought the bandana over his face to keep the dust out. 

He rode for an unknown amount of time, before approaching the face of the fortress. Approaching the front he considered the carving. Still no one to be seen, invisible. He narrowed his eyes and then tied off the horse in the shade, it was getting tired, hungry. . . but even so, it had served its purpose thus far. Luthor grabbed the package from the saddle case. THIS he had recovered from the attack, from the bandits, this hadn't been part of the payment towards the men. It was meant for higher purposes.

He began the long hike up the staircase, carefully placing each foot before him, moving openly towards the shadowy entrance. This was a game of theatricality, of misdirection, of tricks. . . and if that was the way the famed master of the desert wished it, then Lex Luthor would play the game as intended. And hope that he still had surprises up his sleeve in case things went wrong. 

The pack under his arm gave a healthy weight. Dr. Sivana had suggested it to him, a gift is always appropriate when visiting another. Luthor wondered how the old man was, whether he was thinking still on that problem. Whether he'd found some sense of joy at the grant that Lex had given him.  Whether he was considering that standing offer, should Lex return from the desert. He hated to admit it, but part of him missed the old man, and familiar sights of the city. But he was filled now with glorious purpose. 

Eyes of great powers were upon Lex Luthor. Among the eyes of those who silently watched. His brown coat stood out on the mountain, the dark hat making a clear shadow as he walked in light, although the cooling system wasn't working at full capacity since the dislodging and attack. He wore his outfit out of a sense of pride now. Walking up the long path to the citadel, letting the grip of his boots maintain a firm and careful connection so as to not throw him off. He moved carefully, cautiously, into mystery. 

[Deleted]

All light from the roaring mid-day sun vanished into the depths of the tall entrance to the Fortress. Gargoyles of vicious Demons shaped like serpents watched from the corners, with any Traveller being able to notice the vast maze of carvings on the inner wall of the building. A long corridor ran into the darkness, leaving the light of day behind yet there was enough illumination to see the impressive artwork upon the walls. Like a stone tapestry, it ran along both sides of the narrow corridor, depicting various scenes from the League’s past. If one was to the trace the markings with their finger, following with their eyes, they will witness a depiction of the power of the League.



It begins with a carving of a City, mighty and bustling with thousands of people moving around. However this City is obviously intended to be decadent and crime ridden, with bodies strewn all over the gutters. The attention to detail was impeccable, showing that the original artist must have spent a great amount of time carving it. Continuing along, darkness seemed to fall over the settlement, as the moon passed over the Sun that sat above the City. From the eclipse, an army of Demons fell down upon the City, quickly destroying the hive of crime and decadence. Within walking ten meters next to this wall, this warning stood for all to see the power of the League when it sets itself upon a City.

At this point, the sunlight had faded all most entirely, with it just bursting in at the entrance behind. Torches sat in holders down the length of the corridor, lit to guide the way through the dark. The bright embers flickering, providing bursts of light in ten meter intervals down this gloomy corridor. Footsteps would create a noise which bounced around the enclosed space, alerting any within of a new arrival. After a few moments of walking, suddenly the whole corridor opened up into a vast throne room, with towering columns holding up an encroaching roof. An impressively sized room, yet dimly lit with torches bound to each support column, the room felt smaller than it was due to the rock roof.



At the other end of the room sat a throne built for a King, built from the stone that surrounded it. Two flames burnt either side of it, supported by the streams of light that ran from the tiny windows behind it. Ra’s liked the seat to be hard and cold, that so no one who sat in it was comfortable, as no one in power should be truly comfortable. Two doors stood either side of the room, breaking off into corridors that led off into other parts of the expansive fortress. As Lex approached the chair, a voice broke out from the darkness. “A chair not built for a King or even a God, but a Demon. It is not embellished with jewels or gold, holding no secret wealth or majesty.” Stepping out from behind one of the pillars, Ra’s al Ghul walked past the far younger man towards the chair, running his long fingers over the dark frame.



“No one should enjoy sitting in the seat of power.” He spoke as he sat down upon it, crossing one leg over the other as he placed his hands flat down upon the rests. Wearing a dark grey suit with a dark blue shirt, he looked entirely out of place in this arid desert, looking more suited to a high brow party in a more ‘civilised’ part of the World. The black shoes he wore provided comfort not protection, matching the deep colour of his hair. Emerald eyes focused upon the man before him, inspecting every inch of him as his lips stuck together, smirking slightly at the man’s fatigued appearance. “However, what bothers my mind is the question of you, Mr. Luthor. You’re very far from Metropolis indeed.” It was obvious that he knew whom he was addressing; in fact there were few people of importance in the World that he did not know about. It was hard to believe that this man before him was the ancient and mystical Head of the Demon.

[Deleted]

He wasn't one for sentiment, Lex Luthor, a man facing forward constantly walking away from the past. He moved with deliberation, holding the box in front of him as he stepped down the hallways. He took in the images, the winding symbols of legend and deed playing through the back images of his copious mind, details adding up in quick bursts of intellect as he contemplated the logic of the space. It was a ritualized space, and thus had some sort of twisted internal logic based on the legends and lessons of the mysterious creators, this was obviously not a city meant for life, but a city meant for show and a city meant for hiding.

The steps were meant to make him feel every inch the supplicant he was, and he felt the weight and burden of it upon his shoulders. This was a dangerous place, possibly more dangerous than any he'd ever been, save Dr. Sivana's lab on late Sundays when the coffee was gone.

It was the burning of torches that put Lex Luthor on edge, as this was no dead space anymore. Torches were temporary, and their smoke suggested settlement of a more recent nature. There were people nearby, just out of sight hidden. He walked through darkness, and then . . . light, streams of light shone down onto the rocky throne amidst the empty room. He strode forward, with the box, to the empty throne, looking closely at it.

“A chair not built for a King or even a God, but a Demon. It is not embellished with jewels or gold, holding no secret wealth or majesty.” He stiffens with a start, turning around to see the man casually touching the seat of power, the gradual stature of the man, how he moved.

"I've heard tale that the Demon is immortal, that he is made of the stuff of stories and legends, that he brings judgment, that he is invisible and inevitable and implacable as the desert wind itself. I am unaccustomed towards audience with legend " He watches Ra's discuss the chair, and the discomfort of it, how power should not be comfortable.

"I don't know of the comforts of power, or the responsibilities of it, sir. I've never been able to find myself sitting for long anyway. I tend towards movement, ever forward. I've never stopped for long enough to consider it. That is why I am so far from Metropolis, sir. Travel broadens the horizons, and I am a man whose vision currently exceeds his grasp. I hope to rectify this limitation in myself." He moves closer to the chair.

"I am uncertain what the protocols are, I lack that wisdom, I'm afraid. But I brought a gift in exchange for the courtesy of your attention and this audience. I only hope your forgiveness at any lapse in etiquette. I assure you, it is not from disrespect, but ignorance. I don't seek to cling to ignorance as an excuse, but I hope that with time it is rectified by a more complete education, sir." He offered the box.

[Deleted]

Maintaining an emotionless facade, Ra’s inspected the weary traveller’s gift which was brought towards him. Before he would continue with the discussion, he planned on investigating what Luthor had brought, feeling the weight of the light metal case, lifting it open to find a compact device with a screen and a few buttons upon it. In an ever changing world, The League has to maintain dominance through adopting the newest technologies and techniques however keeping the mix of tradition and change is all ways a difficult one. Some members prefer the older ways yet still they cannot deny that that which does not evolve, does not survive. Removing the device from its holding, Ra’s pressed one of the buttons upon it, activating the machine. Upon the screen, a map appeared of the immediate area with red dots showing any life signs via thermal imaging.

Besides the two dots which were Ra’s and Lex, there were a number of other signs around the room. With a smirk and placing the device back into the briefcase, Ra’s clicked his fingers together, signalling the Assassins in the room to appear. In a flash, eight men dropped from the ceiling, hiding in the shadows ready to strike. All carry katanas in their scabbards however at this moment; they have them all in their pals pointed towards Lex. One of them approached Ra’s and took the briefcase, leaving through one of the passages. Stroking his beard, the Head of the Demon continued to inspect the man before him.

He listened to his words before casting his judgment down upon him. Either this man was telling the truth, that he wished to learn from the League or he was only wishing to benefit himself. If speaking the truth, he could be an asset to them. If lying, he would soon find himself without a head. “Your words are like sand in the breeze, nothing. Only through your actions will you prove your worth. If you are truthful, then you will be allowed to join us. However, if you are intending to deceive me, then this desert will be your grave.” Again clicking his fingers, Ra’s made the Assassins place their swords away, as they took a step back from Luthor. Climbing from the chair, he then walked to one of the corridors that led from the chamber, making no gesture but suggesting that Lex should follow him as the Assassins were.

“For two thousand years, the League of Shadows has acted as a weapon against decadence in all of its forms. The French, Russian and American Revolutions, all constructs of the League, all with the intention of creating a greater World. In the new world, all peoples will be united under one banner. Every race, every faith, every creed will come together to form the Humanity of our dreams. However only those who are worthy will lay eyes upon this future. The rest will be purged by the very corruption and crime that they have birthed from their sin.” As he spoke a distant noise grew increasingly in volume, the noise of bustling and streets yet still they were underground deep within the Mountains. “Few men will admit that Humanity is sick and fewer men will do anything about it but the League is both vast and nowhere at the same time.” At the end of the corridor, light burst through but it wasn’t until they exited the passage did it come clear to where they had arrived.



“Welcome Mr. Luthor, to the League of Shadows.” An entire City hidden deep underground, with thousands living in the shadows. This was the beating heart of the organisation, with everything else stemming from this very location. Light shot in through a modest gap in the ceiling, yet still no one knew of this settlement.

[Deleted]

---- Day 68 ----



It was said that meditation allowed the mind to traverse to far places away from the body. To surpass the limitations of physical form, to bypass space and time itself. It was said that the master would, with prolonged focus and years of experience learn to be in multiple places at once, while at once being nowhere. Lex Luthor saw no reason to waste time. 

He saw the floating hills and desert scrubs of the landscape under daylight, with the focus of his mind's eye he could see these distinct different places, knowing certainly that what he saw, was as it was at this very moment. His body, however, was not amongst these flowing hills that his mind flew over. 

Legs spread, keeping his body aloft in the chasm at the edge of his meditation chamber, Lex Luthor allowed a small portion of his mind to consider the past two months. He'd achieved a strange place here amongst the League of Assassins, never quite fully initiated, he wore no costume of conformity, nor did he hide his face amongst the shadows. 

It had taken some short time of interaction with Ra's al Ghul to be placed in an entirely separate category, although what that category was remained anyone's guest. His martial arts skills were not on par with those who trained here, but even so, it only took one or two attempts before the assassins stopped taking part in those stupid exercises where they'd attack him randomly before he made it very aware that when his life was on the line that he would win before throwing a single punch. He was asked once what he would be if disarmed, Lex Luthor responded that he was never unarmed. 

His meditation chamber had been modified somewhat, not emptied like some of the others, but with devices and remnants of scraps which he utilized in a more hands on approach to meditation on the secrets, while developing work for the League of Assassins. 

The Master himself took on Luthor's training after he'd responded poorly to the training of the second assigned teacher. He especially took exception to the idea being broken down to components and treated like filth in a literal manner. Indeed,the change was precipitated when Lex Luthor was asked to clean the filth of the latrines, and was thrown naked into the pit with nothing but a spoon and a koan.  Lex Luthor was able to complete the task in twenty four minutes only using the spoon to dig the chemical components of the rock from the wall to create an incendiary which burned the filth clean. The instructor attempted to correct Lex Luthor with corporal response, attempting to utilize the spoon to make Lex Luthor taste the burnt remnants of the filth. Lex Luthor was given to understand that the instructor was recovering from the burns as effectively as possible.

Afterwards, Ra's al Ghul stated something of putrefication to transmute to the noble materials. Lex Luthor stated that Gold was impossible to putrefy. Ra's had actually laughed at that, and had taken on training personally. Lex Luthor was pleased that his time wasn't being wasted anymore. 

And so it was that in his meditation chamber, Lex Luthor dressed comfortably in the local clothing of the tribesmen that Ra's watched after let his body hang upside down, legs split to hold his body up over the deep chasm below, his hands together and moving in a complicated mudra while his mind traversed to the furthest locations of this forsaken land. He'd been given a task to prove his willingness to practice and learn the deep secrets of Ra's al Ghul. This was often the final task of worthiness, to show that lessons of other lesser teachers had been internalized, that one would perform tasks as commanded.

Ra's gave him the impossible challenge two days prior, to bypass an army, to find an invisible man, to draw him from hiding, and to leave him dead before his loved ones, with the message that no place was beyond the reach of the League of Shadows. Lex was then to return to Ra's, escaping unseen and unharmed. No one else was to die during the assassination. Lex asked what method he could use. Ra's said he could utilize all of the skills taught to him, but stated that Lex must remain in shadow when the death would occur.  

Preparations had taken little more than a day, the pictures and information of the target were memorized quickly, and Lex Luthor promised to bring death using only the product of his mind and hands. The village was on the screen connected to the rig set up in front of him, powered by batteries, jury rigged simply. The computational power of the device was more than adequate, scavenged from supplies gathered earlier. 

Lex Luthor continued the kata as he performed his task, stretching left arm out to cling to the side of the cliff face, and then flipping his leg out sideways to move to an upright position, hanging only by his left hand. The controls of the visual feedback were controlled physically, by a combination of wrist bands and leg bands, the kata was an added challenge, part of the daily exercises put upon him by Ra's al Ghul, the extremes that Lex Luthor put his body through to achieve purity of mind and spirit. He had weights on his wrists and legs, and while at first it was difficult, Lex found that he enjoyed the extreme exercises. They'd appealed to his own desires to surpass his own limitations. 

He continued the hanging Kata, before planting his legs out below him to stand one footed on the crag and to let go of the sides of cliff, balancing on one foot, weights on both legs remaining. The screen showed the village ahead of him. The figures on the ground were clear, pushing his hands ahead of him, the camera zoomed and he was able to look over faces. Twisting his arms sideways, he saw his target walking amongst the village. No one would see him coming, he closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, inhaled and then punched twice. 

A new vision on another monitor, a separate camera drawing closer to the target who stood now by a well, drawing water from the bucket. He stopped for a moment, and looked about. He looked directly at the camera, his mouth opening before it turned to static. The other screen showed the aftermath, a small explosive, the scorched earth,the remnants of the dead man. . . the only target, dead and alone. Lex Luthor smiled and then flipped again, jumping and grabbing the bar overhead. The camera showed the scene as the drone lifted from the ground, flipping as Lex twirled his legs about, turning into another direction. He hung for a short time, maybe three minutes, before clicking his heels together. The screen goes dark.  Lex Luthor finishes his Kata, and then lands on the floor of his meditation chamber,  clapping his hands together. 

[Deleted]

In the months that passed during with Luthor was being tutored, Ra’s’ own opinion on the young man changed significantly. Although it was clear that he wanted to work with and not for the League, the Young Man had shown great skill in the physical, mental and spiritual challenges placed to test him. He showed a rare level of ingenuity and intelligence, not a common trait but the League only takes the best with any less being rewarded with exile into the desert. Only the worthy will be a part of the future, everyone else will cease to be. After the friction between the original trainers and Luthor was removed, soon he began to flourish. During the training process, first his mind had to be enlightened to the truth that the League has already accepted; that decadence and crime are like shackles holding Humanity back from its true purpose and that only true conviction will save us.

Once this new philosophy was explained to the Young Student, the physical aspect of the training began with many weeks being devoted to the learning of various martial arts and the methods used by an assassin. Even though the newcomer showed a great dependency upon technology, he was not unwilling to learn the ways of the shadows. After he had completed this stage in his training, one final test remained to be completed; one which would prove that he is truly a worthy ally. A local Warlord provided the perfect target and Luthor managed to execute him perfectly, pleasing the Demon. However for the next few days, there was no word from Ra’s at all, with him having locked himself within his private quarters away from public view. A week passed until Luthor heard from him, with one of his servants informing him that the Master wishes to speak with him in his quarters.

Situated at the top of a set of stairs, Ra’s’ chamber had no guards on duty, as none were needed. There is no rule against challenging The Demon, only warnings. Upon entering the room, light shot through the small window, illuminating the quite compact quarters. A single bed lay in the corner, with a desk and chair sitting before a small fire which sat dormant in the hot climate, waiting for the cold night which was coming. Now wearing more traditional robes rather than a modern suit, Ra’s sat at the desk with a pen in his hand writing upon a piece of paper. There were some things, such as writing rather typing, which Ra’s much preferred even if it makes it a more laborious task. Only the sound of ink being applied to paper stirred in the room, as Ra’s finished his previous task before moving onto Lex Luthor who stood before him.

After a few moments, he was finished, placing the pen down as he looked at the Man before him. “I understand that you were successful in your mission. I am impressed.” His emerald eyes watched Luthor’s, looking for any hidden thoughts which his body did not convey. It was rare for Ra’s to pass any compliment, with Luthor proving that he was a strong individual to say the least. A further few seconds passed before he continued, with them ending as Ra’s stood up from his chair, deeply thinking about his next words. “For the past few months, you have trained with us, training which will hopefully aid you greatly in whatever tasks you have in mind. However this comes at a price. When you return to the West, you will not forget about us as we will not forget about you.” A man of Lex’s intelligence and wealth would make a great ally, especially with his standing in high class society.

[Deleted]

The walk to the top of the stairs was casual, Lex Luthor had noted the lack of guards, but then again any who made it this far into the inner sanctum of the League had proved themselves many times over. Lex Luthor knew himself to be an exception to the rule. He lacked humility, it was said. That was fine with Luthor. Humility was often an excuse for failings, and Lex Luthor understood his own gifts were nothing to be hidden or ashamed of. That was something he'd fought and proved when he was much younger and weaker than he was now. He was stronger than the day he faced his demons, and only getting stronger still. 

The Philosophical instruction came first, and was taken in, and contemplated. The Demon's Head had never asked his opinion on the matter, and he had to admit. That was the question that percolated in his mind at nights when the training got the better of him, and drove him to meditation. Dr. Sivana had hated these open broad spaces, and Lex admitted to himself, he greatly enjoyed the life and bustle and complicated interplay of patterns of a city. They gave something for his mind to grasp onto, constantly hungry for stimulation, procedure, progress, activity, the city provided fruitful soil for a young genius to flourish. 

But the deserts with their wide open spaces and their broad and clear skies and stars, and hidden shadows and silences. They left room for a mind to expand to infinity. Lex Luthor understood now why so many religions were founded in deserts. Why so many philosophies and worldviews found fertile soil in a land where nothing else could grow. His mind had roiled on larger questions while in the desert, over this last week. Perhaps that was why Ra's had made him wait. At first he resented the imposition, but with time he began to appreciate the subtleties of the approach. He was learning patience here, the physical exercises were secondary, meant to support the mind. The time meant to allow thoughts to purify, to percolate, to perfect. The younger Lex Luthor moved with force of will and fire. 

The woman had called him the flame. She came to him in the shadows while he was here now, in some ways she was the only one to still talk to him. To tease him as if he were just a boy. It was not an experience that the young Lex Luthor was used to. Too many saw the brain and the fire.  . . she saw the boy and the man he was becoming. But his passions were drawn to higher things for now. She said that they were all driven by Glorious Purpose, and Ra's had explained similarly. Lex Luthor understood the problem, although he wondered at the solutions. 

He'd dressed differently himself as he entered the chambers of the demon's head. He himself was dressed in more local clothing, a headdress to keep the heat off. He'd grown more of a beard, looking much more able to blend in. It was, of course, a lie, underneath the robes and headdress, he had just as many gadgets and devices as before. At times they were taken in the middle of the night, but he always seemed to make more. 

He nodded to the complement, impassive in face, it was a statement of fact. "You established the parameters of your request, and I met them with the resources I had at hand." He remained the consummate professional, the death did not seem to come with the difficulty that one tends to associate with first murders. But then again Mr. Cain had reported the brutal efficiency he had taken control of the bandit horde that had attacked the caravan, when he had found his way back to the League. There was little that escaped the gaze of the demon, he had learned to find secrets, and to use them to almost supernatural efficiency. That Lex Luthor held any mysteries at all was simply a sign of the inscrutability of this rising power. 


He listened with a casual grace that had only improved with training, teaching the martial arts. "Lex Luthor does not forget his friends any more than he forgets his enemies. I await the next portion of my training, and our work together."

He nods his head as he says "But I must admit . . . I've learned some here, I've trained much. I've worked for your attention and audience, and while at first. I thought the training to be pointless. I see now, the subtlety of it. There's a very delicate way that you work your art. One that I would not have known before. I am . . . more willing now. . . than I was before to learn from you. To hear your lessons. We spoke at first of your Glorious Purpose. You spoke to me of the blight that struck the world. The fact that . . . men are trapped in mazes of desire and fear and greed. . . I've had time to think upon your words. . . although I admit, what you have to say. . . plagues my mind in the dark corners in the middle of the night." 

[Deleted]

Turning to the small window as Luthor talked, Ra’s listened intently while peering out onto the courtyard below them which was filled with young trainees practicing their movements and techniques with swords in their hands. “You know what I say is true, your mind can not deny it. This World is no Eden.” Although a non-believer, he found the reference well suited to his argument. Moving from the window to back behind his desk gracefully before continuing, The Demon reached down for something hidden, placing a long clothed object down upon the table. Leaving the object for a moment, returning to his debate with the younger man. “Those who are not corrupting society stand by and allow the evil to spread with those who do fight it, having neither the means or the convictions to win. And that is why we are here, Assassins who work through the darkness to protect the light.”




Lifting the cloth from the object reveals a sword perched in its gleaming black scabbard. The weapon had the shape of an oriental weapon, as it could be said that they’re ancient designs were far greater than any European weapon. Once he had picked it up, Ra’s felt the light weight weapon in the palm of his hand, balancing it perfectly before flipping it around to face Lex, passing it to him with a satisfied look upon his face. The blade was freshly forged, sharper than most others. Once removed from its sheath, the cold steal shone in the light, reflecting the beams of light which bounced upon it. By far the most impressive and intricate part of the sword was the handle at the base of the blade. A silver carving slithered around the hand guard, showing the attention to detail which had gone into this fine weapon. “You may keep it, if you can draw blood from my body in a duel with it.”

It would soon become clear whether Lex was a skilled swordsman or a child waving about his new toy. “Your computers may fail you but a sword never will, come let’s see if you a worthy to even hold it.” The pair moved from the Ra’s’ office, down the narrow flight of stairs which led to it and out into the courtyard where the other students were practicing. All bowed as their Master approached before parting to allow Ra’s to move effortlessly through them. The large framed man known as Ubu approached carrying another sword, bowing before Ra’s as the Demon took it from his, sliding it from the scabbard before sliding his long fingers down the blade. Many a man had fell prey to ‘Demon’s Claw’, an appropriately named scimitar constructed for Ra’s’ personal use. Gold and steel bonded to form the beautiful blade and its dark hilt. Everyone fled to the side-lines as many massed to see the duel. “Your move, Mr. Luthor.” He said, turning back around to face his adversary.

Leverage, position, advantage, they are as natural to him as breathing. Lowering the sword with his fully extended arm, Ra’s stood in the starting position; however he bowed before doing so as a sign of respect to the man he was to fight, even if it is only a fight to first blood. Low risk fights such as these still grew great crowds, with all wanting to see the new trainee fight off their Master if possible. Although the courtyard was quite small, dozens of people attempted to look in, with them all chatting amongst themselves due to the rarity of such an event. But when the two swordsmen stood to attention, a silence fell over them all as they watched in anticipation.

[Deleted]

While this man came bearing gifts for her father,
she had remained shadowed, cloaked by the darkness,
ever a whisper in the shadows. In her father's
army, his fantastic, dedicated leauge, she was an
anomoly. As diligent as the others, but pushed, and
pressed further than most. She had her daily
lessons, her training, her punishments for not
fufilling her duties accurately, promptly, and to
his standards.

So while this small box with light upon it was seen
by her eyes, she watched, ever a whisper on the
breeze as she stood clouded in shadow. She was,
after all, daughter of the Demon. There had been
whispers of her birth, how she had not been
discarded like his other inconsequential offspring.
He had told her he was to have visitors, as the
days prior had events out of the ordinary.
Explosions, death. Nothing new to the child, her
eyes wide and rich as she listened, her head bowing
to the man she called Father.

But even now the whisp of a girl faded back into
the shadows, the flame hair of the man coming to
offer her father gifts, intriguing. She would need
to seek him out, watch him further later. But she
knew she had exactly three minutes and fourty five
seconds to get to her next lesson. Tardiness was
not adequet. And this lesson was a painful one, no
matter how promptly she arrived, nor if she failed
to grasp the illusions set in motion by the lesson.

She'd already necessitated the pits twice, and did
not relish the need for a third time. This teacher
was cool, collected and left her no allowance for
her age, gender, or her status as daughter of the
demon. He expected more from her. They all did.
And yet when she strove to tell her father of her
lessons, he always listened with a detatched
interest, barely acknowleding her. She could see
it in his eyes, feel it in his words. A pity
you were not male, Talia. You could have been my
heir. A true al Ghul for me to train. To carry on
my dedicated work.

So she spent longer hours training. Longer hours
studying. She took care in her appearance, she
strove to appear carefully before him, a hushed
whipser barely noted before she would appear before
him; but not interrupting him. She had learned that
lesson harshly as well, and only once. Unlike the
lessons she now attempted for a third, and fourth
time. She didn't dare voice how she missed her
daggers, her swords. How weilding the blades were
like dancing. And how these handheld things were
noisy, and inelegant. But the flame they shot bit
hotly into her thigh, her side, her arm when she
was unable to dodge the flame they spat at her.

And even when she was able to tumble, or flip from
it's hot sting, she could not keep the water from
stinging her eyes, the back of her hand drawn
across almond irises. And even then, she was
dismissed from her lesson for weakness. For emotion
she could not afford in a lesson. Another failure.
She would be left to clean her wounds herself, and
present to another teacher. If the wounds were
mortal enough, she would be escorted to the pits.
And then she was to perform the rituals as she was
taught, and not allowed to return to her lessons
for three days. It was punishment as silent as her
father's unspoken dissapointement she strove to
overcome.


It was much for a child to handle, but not too much
for her to overcome. In three days she would re-
emerge, refreshed, the solitude giving her perspective, and meditative exhultation to approach her lessons with new vigor. But she had been turned away from her lesson, and given a bag; meager items, as was standard, and told to track the man.

She found him several days later, foolishly attempting Kata she had memorized years prior. His form was poor. As was his muscle memory. As she watched from rocks that cast no shadow, she was shadow, and created the illusion thusly.

He was working with more electronics he had brought, and with other items he had taken from her home. Overlooking the cliff, she saw his focal point. A man at a well, now a dead man at a well. He had executed his task as directed, this fire blessed man. Red was a rare color to her. One associated with blood, with pain, with purity. Through it one achieved purpose. And this man, by association, seemed to know his purpose quite well.

[Deleted]

He held the sword in his hand, feeling the leather grip surrounding the full tong of the hilt. It was well balanced, he had to admit, or so he assumed. His work with swordplay was limited, his experiences with the objects based entirely on hearsay and the basic lessons of stance and kata that the old masters had tried to drill into him with limited success. The sword itself was balanced in his palm, he could see that if he had the muscle memory, it would be like an extension of his arm. He could feel the balance point exactly at the hilt, right above his hand, with minimal leverage he could move the sword where it would need to be. It was a masterfully crafted anachronism for a modern age. A perfectly shaped crowbar as far as he could use it.

He exhaled for a moment, mind working in furious overtime. This was the lesson, to see what was to be done with the sword. Mentally he could already see the stance of Ra's al Ghul, though he didn't recognize the name of it. He saw the ease with which the Demon's head carried himself.

Lex Luthor let his mind work overtime, contemplating and clinically considering the man across from him. In an instant, Lex saw all the weaknesses of Ra's walk, the places his body was falling apart, the place where the age set in, the weaknesses of posture and body language and uncertainty that eminated from him. That is to say, Lex saw none of those things in the Master across from him. Top of his form, ageless, deathless, with mastery of the choice of battle. 

Lex on the other hand was strong, clever, deliberate and careful, but without the muscle memory that would serve a fencer. While his mind might be able to work out the basics of the stance, while the sword was in front of him, prepared to block as need be, it was not based on training. It was based on common sense and nothing else. He might survive a few blows, but frankly in a fair fight, Lex Luthor would lose. There were few natural advantages in a straight up sword fight against the Master, and Lex currently had none of them. 

He watched the sword, he watched the man. He had instincts, he had cunning, a childhood in the streets had shaped him, and an adolescence in the dark halls of mad academia had fostered that explosive intelligence. It had brought him to this point, 17 years old, self made multimillionaire, holding a hunk of metal in front of a man that could kill him in twenty different ways with a toothpick. 

Lex Luthor could mentally work out many alternative ways the fight could go, he could see the moves, the countermoves, the natural progress. He just couldn't quite figure out a way for it to end in a way that didn't end with him bleeding and dead.  

[Deleted]

It was judged that keeping Talia’s existence hidden from Luthor would be more productive than introducing her, as they would have little time to be acquainted in between the various training exercise that run through the day and night. Her role was to see but not be seen; otherwise her training would be wasted if she could not remain invisible while watching this trainee. Even though she was a woman, she is still of his blood and her loyalty to the League is fanatically strong thus she would no doubt have a part to play in coming events. Talia’s beauty was surpassed only by her intelligence so Ra’s had a special role for her in the coming plan. For this partnership between the League and Luthor, she will act as a bridge to maintain efficiency and performance.

But for now, Ra’s’ focus was entirely upon the Man before him. No doubt Lex was highly intelligent however in a sword fight a man needs to balance intelligence and skill to be the victor. If you use one more than the other, a weakness forms that can be abused. Ra’s summarised that Luthor’s weakness would be his lack of skill. Giving him little time to prepare, the Head of the Demon rose both of his arms above his head with the sword in hand, charging towards his young opponent. Within mere seconds he had sprinted at athletic standards before jumping into the air, forcing all of his strength into the attack in an attempt to break his defence. After the first strike, a quick volley of slashes struck against Lex’s sword, moving both of them across the yard as they fought.

The sweet melody of striking metal sang out through the ruins as the crowd looked on in open mouthed wonder. Spinning back from the assault, Ra’s span the sword around in his hand, working the acrobatic-like movements with his fingers before speaking to Lex: “A fight cannot always be fought with just logic. The sword must become an extension of your arm, so the fighter becomes one with his weapon but show no mercy towards your enemy as mercy is oft the downfall of men.” Maintaining his composure, Ra’s began to circle his foe, placing one foot carefully in front of the other in a fashion which resembles a well executed dance movement.

This was a dance he knew all too well, as it was the only one he ever had to learn. In the desert, the sword was often the only form of protection that you would have and until he travelled to the City to endeavour to become a Doctor. A generation of lifetimes ago but still lessons which he remembered vividly, lessons which he would likely never forget. Breathing lightly, with his lungs still filled with air, Ra’s was ready for another clash with his opponent, moving into a spinning motion in an attempt to force Lex into confusion before landing his strike. A confused enemy is a dead enemy.