Upon This Rock [Talia]

[Deleted]

Nothing says ostentatious more than naming a multi-billion dollar company after yourself and then slapping your name on a towering structure of steel and glass for all the world to see. However when it came to finding hidden eco-terrorists it would be the last place that Jason would have thought to have looked, but of course the point this cover was to keep vigilantes blind and deaf to their actions by hiding in plain sight. If you look like your enemy, talk like them and dance like them then of course they'll be more likely to accept you into their ranks, as was the case with the Woman he sped through mid day traffic to meet with. The perks of owning a motorbike in a large city were numerous but the most useful on the list had to be the cutting through traffic, the ability to weave in and out of stationary columns of cars like a needle and thread woven through fabric.

The black leather jacket he wore absorbed the dancing sun light arcs which cracked through the gaps in the skyscrapers while his burgundy helmet danced with the beams of light which bounced off the rows of windows on the passing skyscrapers. Lexcorp Gotham stood at the end of the avenue towering into the clouds above, a monument to the man of tomorrow. But as Jason opened the throttle on his carbon Ducati Streetfighter which proceeded to scream up past the crowds of mindless drones who marched the sidewalks he wondered how easily it was for Talia al Ghul, the daughter of one of the World's most wanted 'terrorists' could be on the top brass board of the company owned by the Man whose face often adorned Forbes magazine. Maybe Luthor really did want to save the world, or maybe he was just another play boy idiot, Jason didn't care to be honest. All he knew or cared to know was the address of his Gotham branch for it was where he had arranged to meet Talia so that they may discuss how she'll be aiding his plans next.

Even though Lexcorp was one of the most charitable companies in the World they still didn't have free parking outside of the building so Jason was forced to park his ride a block down the street and walk the rest of the way, helmet under arm with his jacket open to show the dull grey shirt that he wore beneath. He had opted to not wear the leather trousers, instead preferring just a pair of practical black cargo trousers which would place him in the minority of men not wearing a tie. Shadows covered the entrance to the building as the sun hid behind Luthor's towering monument to himself that was his building, but once inside the open atrium entrance Jason felt the chilled breeze from the fans on the ceiling and was immediately glad to be out of the way of the stream of toxins pouring out from the cars beyond the glass. Looks of shock broke out onto the faces of expensive suit and dress wearing executives as this dishevelled biker marched past them to the main desk where a surprised look shot back at him from the auburn haired receptionist. "Good afternoon Sir and welcome to Lexcorp, how can I help you today?" Jason hadn't shaved for a few days, a build up of stubble had began to appear across his firm jawline and his hair kept itself in a bad boy slicked look. "I'm here to see Miranda Tate, she's expecting me."

Even the elevator was roomy and spotless and better yet it didn't have any terrible jingle playing to drive you to the edge. A television screen sat on one of the walls and since Talia's office was on one of the higher floors he had a long time to watched the advert for Lexcorp which mused about its excellent track record in areas ranging from electronics to biochemistry, just to remind you how awesome they were to the extent that Jason missed the terrible songs. With a light chime the lift slowed to a stop, the doors opening to allow Jason to walk out onto the muffling carpet towards the section of the floor dedicated to Miranda Tate or as her friends knew her as; Talia al Ghul. A young woman stood up from her desk to greet Jason, beaconing him over to Miranda's office. "Please, Mr. Todd go straight in she's expecting you." So that's just what he did.

[Deleted]

Swapping one setting for another, Talia found this endeavor almost as droll as ordering assassins around. Instead of silks and cottons, shadows and mists, she was encapsulated in glass and steel, hovering over other mountains filled with people just as greedy as the next.

So while Alexander had been kind enough to give her a new title, with a few rules to follow, she did her best, even though it was little more than executing plans such as she had done in the dunes of the East. Western ways perturbed her. Women were still held on pedestals, and under the feet of men. Expectations were peculiar, as she was supposed to be the most feminine, yet just as capable as her male peers and counterparts. She, herself had proven she needed nothing to best 'Lex Luthor' and the man knew it. As she had been granted an office that was larger than most penthouse suites, she had scoffed at the opulence. And he had gone to explain that it was only fitting for someone running the Gotham branch of LexCorp. Scouring over antique desks, furnishings and other errata to adorn her office, she had been able to create a hovel fitting for her to inhabit, trappings and backdrop for her to fully become and breathe life into Miranda Tate. Affecting a cultured English accent, her clothing nothing less than bespoke Dior, Versace, and Marchesa, Talia had clad herself on Luthor's dime. In a discreet closet held a backup evening gown, sheath in navy, several sets of heels, her jacket, and another suit. Always prepared. Then again the cards in her wallet would grant her any article of clothing she deemed fit as well at the swipe of plastic. These Americans and their false gods and fake currency.

It always caused her to yearn for the sands.

Today had found her leaning against the mahogany and glass desk, gazing out the window as she continued the conversation in something that was clearly not English-American or otherwise. 'You will be an asset to the company'-Lex had told her. 'You can speak nearly as many languages as I-' he had teased her, knowing she knew several beyond what he had picked up in his schooling years.

And so, she had found herself in Gotham, taking upon speaking engagements and running the company as he would will it, under the thumb of yet another man, yet executing her own wishes and wills because she could. This company she wouldn't tank-there was no profit in it. And having seen the followthru on what did occur if she willingly collapsed a company, she found it lacking. And so chose to make this one flourish. If her name was mentioned enough, it would soon become forgotten in the public. Another COO, CEO, whatever running this and that and becoming more and more disillusioned with the 'little people.'

Letting the smile come to her lips, she carried on the business conversation, thanking the partner and assuring that the shipment would be made on time, and of course, she'd be free for dinner later this week. "Let me pass you on to my secretary." She'd continue, before reaching behind her to the telephone and forwarding the number.

And while Jason may have been allowed entrance into her office, her abode, that meant he could wait until she was finished. She had seen the door open, the blonde who was her paper pusher allowing him in. Jason Todd, if requested at the lobby was always allowed in to see her. No matter what meeting, how disheveled the boy appeared-let him through.

And today was no different. While the boy towered above her, she still could bring him to his knees with a word. While his 'father' had given him death, and worse-forgotten him, she had gone against her own forebear, and given him life, brought him to heel, and let him seek out his own destiny. And if this would help to further their goals in Gotham, by unleashing the bloodthirsty young man upon the crime in the city, of course she would aide him. If it was a passion of his heart, she would fund it.

Navy skirt, cream blouse, heels, Talia looked much, much different than her more standard adornments. She preferred the loose fitting silks and wraps that she could bind herself in. They felt more natural than what these Gothamites deemed fitting for business. Letting the faintest of what could pass as a smile to touch her lips, the diminutive woman turned to her guest.

She should chastise him on presenting himself so poorly at her place of work. How he should take pride in himself, and what paths that confidence would guide him. Instead she would crook a finger to call him to her, where she still leaned against her desk. She would let him speak, whatever folly he cared of, first.

[Deleted]

With his back to it, Jason raised a gloved print against the oak door and slowly pushed it shut, the sound of the wood sliding over the white carpet barely cutting the silence between the two of them. A sizeable expanse stood between the entrance and her desk which sat with the window to its rear, so Jason could only make out the most obvious details about Talia's appearance from this range as the sun eclipsed her through the glass than ran from wall to wall. Even though her face at this range was nothing more than a block of pink broken only by the two piercing chips of green that glanced in his direction. Slowly he moved towards her, leaving a trail of boot imprints behind as the leathers he wore rubbed lightly off one another though Jason realised that Lexcorp had no doubt invested in dampening the noise from the traffic outside as he could barely hear the mid day hustle that blocked the streets floors below.

"So do you want me to search for bugs now or do you want me to mouth out all my secrets? I bet you've got a tape recorder behind a motivational poster or something, well either you or Luthor will." By the time he had finished poking fun at her corporate disguise Jason had reached the desk that she now placed all of her weight on. It had been at least three months since he had last seen her in the flesh but she looked no different, though the al Ghuls did have a particularly effective moisturiser. Even though he was barely out of his teens he still stood a good head and shoulders above her which was only emphasised as he moved in close to her, standing but inches from her gaze. Before he continued with the pleasantries he turned away slightly as his eyes ran over the desk top and back around the room. There was a quiet subtlety to it, a minimalist lack of fine art or expensive statues or even those pathetic oriental plants everyone seemed to have the relieve inner anger. Angers nothing more than a fuel for actions your safe emotions would never sanction. Yet the office did not feel empty, it was with and without and he liked the more is less vibe.

Memories of boredom sparked back as he recollected sitting in Bruce's office on countless occasions with only the fun game of watching the clock to keep him entertained as he wasn't allowed to go wandering. Through the window he saw Wayne tower in the distance, a structure of equal form and size with an impressive style of its own. Wayne Tower was an older building that Lexcorp's Gotham branch, a sign of how Gotham had grown under the age old guidance of it's most famous and ancient family as the City seemed to shape around the opulent structure. It was only a matter of time until his own name sprawled through the clouds above the city, mirroring the name of Wayne which would drown in the lowest gutters. "I'd be surprised if you didn't sneak your katana into every shareholders meeting." For all of his pent up rage Jason was still a youth albeit one who has seen more of the world than the majority of old men. "I'm going to need some equipment, I'm planning on setting up shop in one of the old subway stations in Park Row. They were shut when I was a kid so privacy won't be a problem but it'll allow me to get around the city underground through the old network of tunnels." From this coat pocket he pulled a piece of paper, a list of what he needed from the League's deep pockets. Generators, lights, computers, everything a growing vigilante would need. If Batman had his cave then Red Hood would have one too. A place from which he could wage his war, store his equipment and plot his next moves. Of course paying for it would be nothing more than a drop in the sea for the League. "But what do you want?" Usually they gave but only with certain conditions. As if killing the Batman wasn't good enough.

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A year ago, or maybe even two, she had been reviled as a goddess, a Queen, a woman who had halted the age of time. She was the Daughter of the Demon, a woman born in the place of a man, and who had held her own over the years, under the less than delicate rearing of a man such as her Father. Tutored by experience, honed by time and observation, Talia al Ghul was a woman who wore many masks, rarely shedding them all to naked woman who sought to juggle them. Many mastered, it was said she served, under many, many guises. But it was all false, as there was only one true way to follow, and one way to bring about that Truth.

Each nuance about him entering her office would have had him greet death. The disrespect, the unkempt appearance. The haughty way he presented himself, as if she were the one who should be grovelling for items printed upon a list. That he was the one who thought she needed such silly things as a weapon, a blade of all-to execute her tasks at hand. It was new to her that he was aware she was a shareholder of the coveted company. Hariq had only opened up such options to less than a handful of people over the years. She had him to thank for her own fortunes based in shifting numbers on digital screens, based on what his teams of people implemented or tore down by the minute.

He offended her sensibilities by even mentioning the fact that he need to search an area belonging to her for spies. Then again, he was not many of the men she had known through her years, her Father, Hariq, Him. Dear, dear Jason was so much younger, so much more raw with emotion that was ruling his life like unbalanced humors. Perhaps a bit too much stomach bile, when he needed a bit more ...something else. The bloodletting was certainly calming, for a time. But her Jason, he was so, so young, even for combating the pits and coming out mostly unscathed save for his relentless rage and thirst for vengeance. So much like his mentor. So much like the man who had failed to save him.

Watching the youth approach her, her face was a picture of modern beauty. For this guise, as a favor, she was carrying herself as a buisnesswoman at the height of her career. Minor inconveniences were beneath her. Being bothered was to be dealt three deep in assistants. For a man looking as much as some punk from the East End, being allowed to see her with no questions, no certifications, and no bespoke suit, it did raise a glance here, or a whisper there. But those who dared to comment on Ms. Tate's visitors would soon find themselves without a desk to return to the following morning. If Luthor sought to rule his empire with his toys, she would do him proud by following suit with less baggage.

Closing the distance between them, marring the pristine floor with those boots, it was an approach that could have had a bit more reverence. Again, she reminded herself it was his youth. She was not only his savior, but his obsession; after his yearning for war and blood, like most men. He's mock her, as his age would dictate he use his feelings, he would poke and prod the immovable steel core she was, so artfully hidden by draped silk and shifting.

The paper she could look at later, before he left her. An nondescript hum echoed in her throat as he demanded this of her, and then that, stating his plans that she was concerned about, yet didn't care for. He could ply his empire on the shitstain end of Gotham. She would furnish him with chairs of gold if he asked. But come one day, he would soon need to start asking the right questions. And quit wasting her time.

Drawing before her, he came so close to her she could breath the air he exhaled. He was tall; not quite as tall as him, or Hariq, or her father, but adequate. What he did not have in finesse he made up for in youth. Her hand reached up, tapping his cheek, once on either side to look at the growth. Inhaling once, she could tell he was riding that motorcycle again; fumes coupled with his attire said as much as well. What did she want? Well, she would like some proper respect. Perhaps some indulgence. Maybe even to be rid of the secrets and games she had to play so close to the chest in this city, as her Father dictated.

But those were not pertinent to what he was asking. And they were her own concerns, not his. Expensively manicured fingers shifted from jaw to the back of his neck, urging him closer to her, until their breath was shared more intimately, the designer lacquer on her lips transferring to his mouth in a span of seconds. Release was given, the paper plucked from her desk.

Green eyes scanned the items, no comment made. "I'll have them delivered. What address?" Blinking she turned back to him, forefinger reaching to flick under his leather jacket. "And a hello would be nice. A bit of respect. You hold so much disdain for Batman, and yet treat me as if I were nothing more than a tool. Save it for him, and not for me. Your assumptions that I would need toys in a meeting of any sort are insulting. You and your guns, Alexander and his ...ways. Batman and his tools. I have nothing other than what is on my person. And ever being sucking breath on this floor could be eliminated within-" She paused, twisting to look at the clock on her desk. "Twenty five minutes. Perhaps thirty. And how did you know I was a shareholder?"

She was nothing if she wasn't efficient. "Luthor is one man I have known for years. If there is a bug here, I would have known of it. It's insulting you believe me to be ....selling out, is that the word? Because I am honoring a favor. You should know better that there is more than just the clothing, or the position to what my family does. And you, now are within that inclusion, Mr. Todd." The paper was placed behind her on the desk, no further comment made on his own wants, needs, and plans.

"I will also be having several garments sent to your ...home. Wear one next time you see me." An expense that would gain him much more than the initial investment. A finely garbed man in Gotham could move in ways most would not expect.

"What else do you need." It was statement, fact, and cruelly methodical after their show of intimacy.

[Deleted]

For a brief moment all the pain in his body fell numb as her lips met with his own, his body anchored down by the hands that she had wrapped around the black lapels of his jacket. For as long Jason could remember the only physical contact he had with other human beings was through his clenched fists meeting with their jaws upon the moment of impact. This was a nice change of pace for the boy who was only just into adulthood. The sensible thing would have been to push her off, to show that he wasn't interested in what she was selling or at least that's what the sensible portion of his brain cried out to deaf ears. Tempting men with her sultry words and her seductive actions was what she was born to do, she was as much a weapon of intrigue as was his Desert Eagle .44 an instrument of war. So why couldn't he summon enough will power to break free from her locked in embrace? Jason wasn't entirely sure, but his best guess would have been that he was enjoying the carelessness of it, the lack of inhibition or worry or sense. "Not now." But a reprieve was nothing more than a break, sooner or later he would have to open his eyes.

And so he did, slowly moving his shrouded hands up to her dress covered shoulders he pushed her back in an inoffensive manner which showed that he appreciated the sentiment but that he was weary of her true intent. Jason wasn't looking for a form of escapism, to run away to a land of dreaming only governed by the catalyst of his own desire. As of late he had experienced far too much sleep, now he was ready to grab this dogged reality by the horns so that he may shake it to the ground. Solace had to be found through Red Hood, through vengeance not through romance. "I figured that a hello would be too simple for the Daughter of a Demon, but never think that I don't respect you or Ra's. You've given me more than a second chance, you've armed me." With a sly smirk that hinted to his dark intent he raised his hand to her own, grasping it lightly to move it from his healthy jaw. Barely a man and he was filled only with anger, other youthful frivolities were lost on him, their pleasure had been since sapped from his soul. There was no denying that he was handsome, but he was no pretty boy like Dick Grayson. If Grayson was a galloping steed then he was the enjoyment one can find in appreciating the spine tingling cycle of a powerful V8 engine.

"I will honour your actions, Talia but don't lie to me. I know it and you know it, even if you don't want to admit it. The only reason that you and your Master are doing what you're doing is because I'm an asset, you know that I will take down the Bat for you." There was no hint of disrespect in his voice, if anything in this moment he showed her nothing but honour. Without her actions he would still be lying in a shallow grave, bruised and alone and betrayed by the only man he ever loved. She deserved his honest word and in turn he hoped to receive hers. "The address is on the bottom of the page, I'll have a batch of weapons and toys moved down there too. Sorry about the scepticism, I have a thing of not trusting rich guys who want to save the World." What fools they are, this was the World that mankind deserved and he was ready to illustrate this point. Anything better would be an insult to nature.

[Deleted]

Hands braced behind her on the desk as he pushed her away. Another woman would be ashamed. Another would feel utter rejection. Another humiliation. For a woman who had lived-and died as many times as Jason had years to his name, Talia only let a coy smile develop on her lips. He was so, so much like his father. It was sad, almost, as Jason adopted the brooding demeanor of his spiritual Father; Bruce. The withdrawal, the power-play that he thought made him stronger. Resisting would reinforce that isolation. Masking what he wanted to be, from what he truly wanted. It was a shame that he was aspiring to that route, instead of one more fitting to his own skills. If he truly trusted himself, he'd allow the shows of affection to touch his being, instead of flouncing off like he was made of rock and steel and held no heart.

It wasn't as if he could really divine her intent. So few people saw her as anything but a conniving, plotting daughter, that they truly thought her a woman, or someone capable of behaving as her own person, with, dare she even think it- agency. She was always connected to her Father, by name, by her standing in birthright, as if she were nothing more than a female version of him. A shadow. Less. And the fact Jason thought her to be using him for some reason other than the most base of emotion was laughable.

Instead she raised a brow as he put on airs again with her. "There is a difference between respect, and simplicity. The more you claim something, Jason, the less it is usually true. I am more than aware you respect me only to the lengths in which you feel it will suit you. Yes, I saved you from a premature death, but you fail to realize I fund and equip you because I also have faith in what you are doing. You are willing to go to lengths to rid Gotham of the scum that Bruce lacked the follow-through to eliminate. Where he has failed, you are gaining ground with each day, and each time you set your mind to your task at hand for the day."

Shrugging lightly, she reached for the paper again, flipping it over to the back, then to the front again. Ah. There was the address, scrawled at the bottom. He'd need to learn to contain his rage, or the very least, how to utilize it as a weapon. Weaponized emotions were one of the best tools to influence. Be it anger, sadness, want, need, despair, the list was endless as a human was multi-faceted in feeling. She had lived enough years to know the tip of a scale and how it could sway a decision in a second.

"Master? My Father? He has guided me, but even he would laugh at you for deeming him that. He is my Father, and perhaps Master to others. And you dear, dear boy. Taking down the Bat is not my intent. Perhaps you are projecting, but Bruce can take care of himself. It is your own hatred toward a man you chanced to deeply love, who left you for dead. If you want to take down the Bat, go ahead. Understand his weaknesses, and perhaps you may succeed. But lie? I haven't lied to you any more than he has. And at least in my deceptions I am honest. And in this case, I have done nothing to deceive you. Why would I arm you, clothe you, supply you with your every whim and want for your mission, really, whatever mission your heart desires? Try not to confuse me with your everlasting, fallible father. I am not him. I am better than him, for I have given you a second chance when he has left you for dead."

Talia scoffed slightly at his statement. "Well, I am not exactly a 'rich guy' who wants to save the world. I am a woman, wealthy by my own hand, who is well traveled, worldly, and benevolent to those that deserve it. Don't mislabel me again."

Pushing away from the desk, he was still so close that she was forced against him before slipping from between him and the desk as if it were some swift dance step. She needed to see the skyline again. And so she did, standing before one of the large windows.

"How did you know I was a shareholder?"

[Deleted]

Through glazed eyes that shone like embers of darkened coal, forged with an inner heat than slowly burned the remainder of his soul away to ash, he looked down upon his only true source of Human interaction. If the definition of a mother is someone who has given life to you then Talia had as much right to the title as the Woman who would lock a seven year old Jason in as she went out into the cold night looking for a way to source her despicable addictions. In a way Jason's life had just been one repeating nightmare of promise and then betrayal; a Father who had nothing but obligation to his Son but provided nothing in reality which led to a Mentor who only rewarded him with the embrace of the Joker's crow bar. Two Mothers and two Fathers, his birth parentage had betrayed him to a life of decadence and half of his new family had done the same, so he couldn't blame himself for doubting the validity of Talia's promises. "I respect you for what you've done, which is more than any one else ever has done. My birth parents abandoned me and so did Wayne in time, so I'm just wondering how long it'll be until the League no longer has a use for me."

Of course he was being cruel, that feeling of spiteful arrogance ran through his veins but what part of him should feel guilty for such animosity? Is it the knee and six ribs broken by the Joker's fun time? The mind which for the flicker of a second felt as if the Devil itself was pulling it to pieces and then ramming it back together due to the Lazarus process? Or perhaps it was the heart that sat in his chest, empty of pity and void of remorse. Not one inch of his body was untouched with the blade of life's woes and troubles for death had sunk its teeth and though it had let go the marks still ran deep. "Wayne's just a man, that is his greatest weakness. And he is an old man at that, an idiot stuck in his ways but I'll show him that the scum out there doesn't deserve his pity, they deserve my wrath!" Clenching his leather wearing hand into a tight fist, Jason was practically at the point of seething foam from his mouth in built up anger and fury. Not even Talia and her Master understood what he felt but how could they? As with everything else in life, Jason was alone in his hatred.

Before his deeper thoughts transformed into physical outbursts, he took a deep breath, pushing the high society oxygen that emanated around the room deep down into his body before forcing it back out. With a glance back to Talia or Miranda or whatever she wanted to be called he paused before continuing. "You're no Man that's for sure but you are here at the grace of your Daddy and the Man of Tomorrow himself. And I try to keep up with your doings as you do with me so of course I knew you were a share holder. I've seen the adverts, of course you work for this company." Building a better tomorrow today, which isn't too hard to do from a high rise office that makes all of life's problems looks like little ants moving about below. Moving past the desk, he too stood before the mirror, placing one of his hands up onto the glass to feel the numb vibrations from the passing traffic below. "If I apologised then I wouldn't be the type of man that the League of Assassins saw potential in." A slight smirk crept up on his face as his eyes looked to the reflection of her in the glass to judge the reaction. Some how she made the world of mergers and acquisitions sexy as hell in those heels.

[Deleted]

The vigor of the young. Even as she heard the words, her mind processing them, dissecting them, her mind assigning the appropriate emotion based on her experience in the world, she had to let the faintest of a smile cross her lips. There he was, the spitting image of Bruce himself, no doubt when Bruce had been enraged at the hands of her Father during training. Ra's had found the nerve that fueled the young man then, and it was really no shock that Bruce would find another lost child and wish to envelope him into his arms, to try and divert the pain of a loss so deep it altered your course in history, changing your fate as to be irreversible.

Not for her, though. If Jason was to die, she had kept him from that path, stunting a short life in exchange for a second chance. As much as he would hiss and spit at her, claiming she knew nothing of abandonment and betrayal, she would do nothing more than listen to him. Perhaps, like Bruce, she, too, sometimes wished to help others. For despite her being an al Ghul, a name that struck fear into the hearts and minds of men far from Gotham, for her being the daughter of the Demon, she, was also someone capable of great compassion.

It was just she had to go through a lot more to hide it.

Watching him pace and froth, Talia waited until his anger was spent. Nothing was broken this time, nothing maimed. It didn't matter. In expensive suit and even more expensive heels she would be able to disarm him with nothing but her hands. She always had found it peculiar that the so-called criminals in this city, well, and in most cities, always had tools or weapons. What if there was a time when such tool was stripped from your grasp? If something malfunctioned? She herself had been drilled years upon years, many more years than even Jason had sucked breath in the ways of war. And her failure was not only met with shame, but with death. Death was nothing more than an option, and an option she had lived through enough times to have had the sting dulled to an annoying buzz as her body would be healed, her mind fractured and knit together once more.

Jason was correct. Wayne was a man, his parents were mere mortals who had let him down. He was smart to ask her why she wouldn't. Why he wouldn't just be discarded by the League. He was not stupid, not this one. So even if her Father had plans for him and then swiftly found a better replacement, she would always have a place for him. It was tiring at times to need plans within plans, much like those toy dolls, a smaller within a shell, and then another.

While he kept up with his questions; rhetorical, of course, with no real want for an answer other than to hear himself voice his deepest concerns, and worries, Talia still kept silent. He would taper down, the rush of adrenaline and emotion burning hot, then extinguishing. And then, she would say a few words. Perhaps in a riddle, perhaps in the more blunt way of this century. She could at least admire his dedication to his anger, and the task at hand he sought to occupy himself with, fulfilling it with the greatest urgency of a fanatic dedicated to a cause. That mere thought did make a flicker of a smile cross her lips once more. And still she was silent, letting him fill the quiet with his own wants and desires, his angers and his needs. Each assumption he spoke she quietly took in, with no word of reprimand, for really, despite him seeking her as a maternal figure, and yet, questioning and pushing her away despite all she had done for him; it was not her place to steer him in one way or another. She could present him with options, or even her own opinions if he cared to ask for them. But to act anything like Bruce would be to lose him to the wind.

And then, only when he had spoken his last word, did she bother to even encourage discussion. She had to remind herself he still was reeling from the effects of the pits on his young brain. It took months, weeks upon weeks for the temporary insanity to cease once each synapse had finally reconnected. This sort of deviant behavior, she herself had been reborn into, time and time again, until she could fight the irrationality and lack of sanity.

And so, she would offer her own words in quiet tones, not in the harsh admonishments of men she, herself was privy to know in more intimate times.

"I do not judge you based on the fact your prior parents have failed you. Again and again. I understand how your trust extends only as far as you can extend your hand to me, Jason. We believe what we learn. Hopefully, I am able to teach you properly this time around." She would pause, standing from the desk and stalking to the window, to look out upon such a dark, dirty city such as Gotham. It made her yearn again for the dry, bright cities across the ocean. But that was an emotion for another day. "And if, when the League has no more use of you, I still will have you with purpose. Remember that. Keep me close, and that wonder will never have to cross your mind again." Heading turning slightly to gaze at him, one brow would arch gracefully, the motion itself asking numerous questions of him; did he trust her? Would he ask more of her? That with her, and only her, he would always have a reason, a purpose, and drive.

A fingertip raised to the glass, nail tapping gently upon it. She understood his vehement desire to rid the streets of scum that Bruce was unwilling to put down. She'd let that fire burn. As hot and as long as he wished, she would gently fan the flames of it. It gave him a direction, and that was good.

Turning, she would smile the cold, chill of a facade that would never warm her eyes. "I am here of my own want. Not because of my Father, or Hariq, but because while they place me in positions, I have my own reasons. I'm surprised that you, too, would think I am merely a pawn in every man's game, and have no agency of my own. Sadly, it's something most people see, and believe, when it is only a flimsy, sad excuse. Sometimes it's better to be underestimated. Sometimes silence lets other's fill in their own understandings, instead of reality. Remember that one, Jason." Letting the smile fade from her lips, she would turn once more to the window. If he cared to leave, he could. If he so wished to speak more, he could.

"Now, don't go telling everyone my secrets. It would certainly paint me as a problematic woman, wouldn't it?"

[Deleted]

Pausing for a moment as he raised his arms up and folded them together over his chest like a petulant child, the resurrected former Robin felt like he was thirteen again at one of the many private schools that Bruce tried to force on him so that he could be broken into something resembling a young Wayne; strangled with an aloof sense of arrogance. Change can never be forced onto a child in such a drastic manner but the Dark Knight only requires the most obedient of slaves before he is willing to give them a sliver of respect. Dick was broken, he walked the walk and talked the talk that his lord and master expected but behind that cool smile of certainty he knew that the golden son was an empty shell, devoid of purpose and self assurance, another tool on Wayne's belt.

Jason would never have betrayed himself by conforming to their boot licking tendencies and of course defiance is always snapped at by those who believe that they are holding the strings. Principal after Principal stood before him and berated the child upon the same basis: too much independence and fire in his heart. To a child who had witnessed the worst of Park Row's depravity, their Windsor knotted ties and aristocratic babble had no more effect on his tempered soul than the mud on the soul of his shoe. Standing before Talia al Ghul felt like a similar situation. The outsider receiving a schooling from the professional, a scolding for a lack of discipline and acceptable behaviour, nothing new here. Yet he did more for her than he ever would them; he listened. He listened because he cared and he cared because this was his choice. Rather than being beaten across the head with a demand for change that he was never going to accept in his heart, this time he could put his heart into it.

"I suppose we're all as free as we tell ourselves. I won't lie to myself and say that my life has always been my own. Whether it was my Dad closing off my life choices as a Kid or Wayne forcing his brutal alternative to a terrible life. All it took was an incredibly painful death for me to be given a say in how my life goes. I choose the Red Hood." A name so apt that it still curves a smile of irony on his face. A title carved into history by the Animal who robbed Jason of his life. But now the curse of the Red Hood would be embodied in a stronger form which would overcome its former master. "I don't care what people think of me or what I'm doing, they're a bunch of mindless idiots so why would I be bothered? They're obedience is all that I require. Fear can be a powerful motivator for greatness but I guess your Dad says that enough."

Smirking as she made the argument for keeping her personal and even more personal lives separate, Jason was amused by her love of method acting. Personally the idea of revelling undercover disgusted him a bit, a person should only strive to maintain their own personality rather than wear another like a new pair of shoes or an old hat. But Talia did it so well, she made it an art form. With every smile, every jolt of laughter or pleasant hello dished out to the front desk receptionists , another brush swipe moved across the canvas of Miranda Tate. "I can read the headlines: prestigious business woman actually killer ninja. Pulitzer prize winning stuff. Don't worry your secrets are safe with me."

[Talia al Ghul]

It was hard to see his spirit crushed, his soul torn, his heart lifeless. By each choice, each decision, each man standing before the child and yet giving him nothing each time but an empty promise. As Jason so vehemently spoke at her, instead of to her, using her as some sort of stand in for a more masculine presence, she nodded when she felt he would care for it, halted her breathing as if to sympathize with him.

Why, if she felt it would help? Why continue the farce? Because in her act, there had to be something for him to call her out on. Give him a distraction that he could identify, so that he would never fully pinpoint the reality of her shifting. It had never failed her yet, in giving a false discovering. It would bolster his sense of self, a bold spark of pride in discovery. And that was much, much more important to the reborn young man before her, than her beautifully crafted lies.

He would need to stand upon his own two feet, not just bolstered by his anger and blind seeking for revenge. He'd need to push through the haze of heady emotion and harness such a drive, turning it to limitless focus. She's encourage him in the ways that his forefathers had failed. She would not beat him. She would guide, and offer physical comfort in the lack there had been before.

"Honestly, Jason. If you truly didn't care, you'd be focusing on what your goals were, instead of being whipped into a frenzy claiming you couldn't be bothered about their opinions and steps. Dial in your focus. Forget them all. Ask of me what I can give you that they can't. Breathe in your hate, exhale your desire. Yes, my Father claims fear is a great motivator, but I do not claim the same. Growing in the shadow of a great man brought me different tools. " She'd turn to him, fingers brushing through her hair.

"I was always assumed to do this, do that, follow him blindly because I am his daughter, the heir to the Demon. When will anyone realize I have my own drives, motivations, and dare I even say, plans?" She shook her head sadly.

"No one seems to understand that the fact I am underestimated is my greatest power. They are truly clouded by the fact they seem to think I am a mindless, docile daughter. I follow whim and will like law. They can believe that all they wish, for as long as they do. I will never correct their assumptions if it allows me to do as I wish." Standing before him she would tap gently at his crossed arms. So petulant. Such a child trapped in a man's visage. So much unbridled anger. Such passion.

"That story would be overlooked just as much as the other criminals are in Gotham. Just another sensational headline."