History Lesson [Ra's]

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It was really just what the city needed – if you asked Summer Gleeson anyway.

Summer had invested a great deal of time and effort into covering the Arkham story over the course of the past few months. It seemed like there was a new tidbit of information released every day that could stand alone as a segment on her show. The process was tiring, but exciting at the same time. She was doing what she loved again – chasing a story. However, there was something about this in particular that didn’t quite quench the thirst she had for journalism. The end was already finalized and set in stone. Everyone knew what was to become of the sector of the city that was to be segregated for the criminals of Gotham, she was just providing the details that the Mayor’s office avoided.

Pointing out flaws in the operation was fun enough, but the rest of her stories as of recent were falling flat of her ambitions. Still hesitant to jump back into the dangerous happenings that she had once found herself caught in the middle of after her bust at Iceberg, Summer stuck with frothy, feel-good stories for the time being. For example, with Gotham desperately attempting to relabel themselves as a city that was proactive in their efforts to eradicate crime – the city was hosting a wide arrange of events and galas. The vivid young socialite was always on scene for each and even made appearances at more private functions hosted by well-known city officials. Covering each unique event was as close to a ‘break’ that Summer would allow herself.

In attempts to provide a more cultural advancement to the city, the Gotham History Museum had arranged for a new exhibit to be revealed during an exclusive event. Of course, Summer insured she was on the list of those to attend, particularly because of the main attraction – a priceless marble statue of Marcel "The Hammer" du Valliere. While this French solider was not exactly a household name, Summer was very familiar with it. In fact, the name hit so closely to home because she was a direct descendant of the man. A very thorough genealogy test in college had provided her with such information and it was almost humorous to think how the name would appear so randomly back into her life all these years later. Of course – Summer was quick to share this information with the rest of the world, more specifically her rabid viewers. Her fans ate up the information and ratings prospered from the coincidence paired with this anticipated party, it seemed so convenient that the city would be getting such an artifact.

As expected, the opening night for the exhibit was as classic and tasteful as any. Gotham’s finest all gathered into one room in order to marvel at the new additions to the museum. Of course, one might find her standing next to the statue with a flute of champagne in hand. Standing in a designer gown and beaming as if she had practically carved the work herself.

outfit: click to see

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Five hundred year ago, high society soirees were never without the employment of elegant disguises with exotic masks being worn by all so that conversation could be had without the fear revealing ones identity. Society will tell itself that it has changed, only because the current generation can not remember the particulars of what the previous generations had been like yet in this case carnival masks have been replaced with far more expensive smiles and warm eyes, showing only the most amiable of emotions. As he moved through the small bundles of chattering bourgeoisie, more like a serpent through grass than a respectable gentlemen, his head swivelling side to side tracking his line of sight which preceded the rest of his movement as if his eyes drove his entire form. Carbon shaded hair matched the dark cut of his suit, with the only colour to be found from his sage cravat that sat with a silver tribal marking shaped pin pushed through it.


Tonight would be a time for celebration, though only for Ra's al Ghul as it would mark his most recent fulfilment of a two hundred year old oath made in the aftermath of a humiliating defeat, a rare slight against the honour of house Al Ghul which had plagued him to this day. The cackling socialites who were so willing to swill the Party's champagne, who were willing to emerge from their private hibernations until the bells of another wealthy gathering event rang were nothing more than a distractive insult to both Ra's and the man they were apparently there to honour; General du Valliere. Still, there was only one guest at the party who he was interested in, the most recent descendant of the Hammer himself and Gotham's very own star journalist; Summer Gleeson. Though she was nothing more than a child, he owed to himself to see his work carried out, it was the agreement he made with her long dead ancestor.

Were his the only League eyes canvasing the large open hall that seemed to circulate around the impressive marble likeness of the deceased French general? Of course not, a dozen of his men who you would think were simple waiters or doormen or even security guards, were of course in league with the League. They would be there for crowd control purposes only as there will be no need to keep the other guests around while he quickly deals with the girl. Moving through closer to the monument, inspecting the facial design closer this time, Ra's only now noticed that it was a pale copy of the man himself for he believed that it was a face he will never soon forget. Fate threw them together, or at least Ra's' plan to assassinate Napoleon Bonaparte. By the end of the mission the Emperor was left with little more than a pained stomach thanks to the valiant efforts of the unexpected General's arrival. Revenge is rare motivation for Ra's al Ghul, but in his eyes it is his duty to see the line of Valliere removed. For half a century the family had slipped into obscurity and of course he didn't desire to waste resources on reacquiring until young Gleeson caught his eye. The fool had unknowingly placed a target on her very life.  

Parting through crowds of the privileged through, pushing aside men and women alike with his long imposing black cane like a figure from a gothic Victorian novel, he moved in on Summer who he noticed was positioned next to the piece of work ready to answer any questions people may have about it. As he moved up next to her, his eyes failed to meet her own as he took in a long glance at the towering sculpture next to them. "A remarkable piece, I thought all sophistication had fled from the streets of Gotham the moment men in tights became our defenders." His words could be interpreted as a joke yet he failed to smile.

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The redheaded beauty had already made her rounds throughout the venue. She couldn’t even count the amount of times her hand had been kissed, though she was itching for a small sample of hand sanitizer with each passing moment. Her date had gone to fetch her a drink and continued to send glances in the direction of his date to insure that she was not being swept away by a pretty face in a tux. Summer had spent a majority of her evening with the historians that had traveled with the exhibit, hungry to acquire as much information that she could concerning her distant ancestor.

Just as one of the red-faced historians excused himself from the pretty redhead in search of a new refreshment, he left the young woman with the promise that he would return. Smiling and nodding as he departed, her contently happy expression lingered now as she stood alone. Her hands longed for something to do, hoping that either her date might quickly return with her drink or she might snag a flute of champagne from a passing server. Of course, it didn’t take long for the young socialite to be approached once more. Following his voice, Summer’s vibrant green eyes quickly fell on the towering man with a unique style.

Of course, the first thing that Summer seemed to notice was his outward appearance. Considering her track record when it came to dating, he was seemingly her type - age difference included. He had a regal look about him that she couldn’t quite place, though the most unusual thing about the figure before her was that Summer Gleeson could not identify him. Being the ambitious reporter that she claimed to be, Summer had memorized the extensive guest list weeks ago. Those she had failed to meet prior to the engagement, she still had some kind of an idea of who they were. However, the man before her couldn’t be placed.

She giggled at his joke, assuming it was such even with the lack of expression on his face. Rather than feeding into any type of argument, she added playfully to his comment. “And women.” After all, one could not forget the ever-present counterparts to such tight-wearing men. While it seemed clear he was one of the many that didn’t support the vigilantes in Gotham city, Summer shared a different perspective. Then again, she had also worked very closely with a majority of them – particularly Batman. She was his go-to for any detective work revolving around the media work. Quite credible and possessing an abundance of knowledge concerning the field, Summer was an ideal choice. Not to mention, she was more than excited to help and brag about it to anyone who would listen.

“It’s beautifully crafted, isn’t it?” Summer continued lightly, quick to transition to the real question swirling around her pretty little head. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Summer Gleeson.” She greeted him warmly, extending her manicured hand.


outfit: click to see

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"No we haven't met before." The extended petite hand that she offered out with a trained level of grace towards his own was seemingly rejected, as was her attempts to discern his identity. Rather he placed his arms behind his back, locking them together as if he were ordered to stand at ease by a superior. Now that he was standing right next to her, Ra's could have a close up inspection of her features though only a glance would be needed to give him the insight that he required. The shape of her nose, the rise of her brow, the complexion of her skin and hue of her eyes, it all matched that which he imagined to see. There was no doubt in his mind, the family resemblance ran through her as it did all those who came before her, all those that he had personally ferried onto the next life. "To see that du Valliere's name has not been forgotten in the stream of time is a warming notion, you honour him with this event. Whether he deserves such a celebration is another matter entirely, I understand that the man was a known ally of the megalomaniac Napoleon himself."


Turning on his heels to survey the room around him, he again noted the waiting socialites who were ready to jump the moment he left Summer so that they could have their turn speaking with tonight's hostess. When it came to the upper classes, Ra's only held a feeling of seething disgust with in him as their entire lifestyle revolved around notions of cowardly behaviour and greed, that their name and not their actions were what made them superior to their fellow man. Ra's al Ghul was not soft minded enough to believe that in the new world there will be no sense of hierarchy. It was only natural to have the strongest rule and the weak serve but it would be a system based on merit not origin where all would have the opportunity to achieve rather than be caught in a class trap. Of course the main difference would be that wealth would play no part in the ranking, as money was what arguably split humanity in the earliest of days. So when he looked out at their plastic faces and illustrious outfits his mind was rocked with a call to cull, to see them crushed beneath his boot but it was a siren song that he decided to lock away at the back on his thoughts as he lulled the murderous pull to sleep by reminding himself that their time will come.


"He served on the fields of Austerlitz and he were are, surrounded by an enemy far more fierce and treacherous than either the Russians or the Austrians: the smiling faces of Gotham's most eligible citizens. I know that I'd sooner face a line of muskets than make pleasant conversation with the likes of them." Arching back around to her, curving his lips into something resembling a smile as he did so, Ra's moved in closer still so that he could tower over her and speak in a softer tone. "The Hammer was a fool for stepping between me and my target, an honourable loyal fool but an idiot all the same. I owe it to him to see this task carried out, understand that there is no personal malice held towards you." As he spoke, he ran a hand down over her cheek in an almost benevolent manner, yet his words cut down any chance of him coming across as a kind figure. After a quick glance was given to his watch, a voice suddenly spoke through the speakers that sat in the corners of the room. "Good evening Ladies and Gentleman, unfortunately we have to inform you that we are going to be running a brief fire drill in accordane with newly introduced city law so we ask that all guests please leave via the nearest exit. We are sorry for the interruption but festivities will begin again in fifteen minutes, thank you."


And so with a chorus of sighs the hall full of historians and high earners began to empty out into the museum foyer just down the corridor. All that remained was a handful of waiters and security guards who saw fit to lock the doors once everyone else had left. "Finally, some privacy."

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Nimbly and swiftly, she returned her hand to her side, though her smile did not falter regardless of the blatant reject. Taking a small sip of her champagne, careful as to not smear the red stain on her plump lips, Summer looked back to the man beside her. His focused seemed to be targeted more toward her features than those of the statue. Meeting his gaze, she was finding it difficult to remain polite in response to his unusually confrontational behavior. Nonetheless, she handled the situation gracefully to her interpretation. “I don’t particularly see this as a celebration of du Valliere specifically, but the artist behind the piece before you. It’s a mere coincidence that the work of the celebrated party revolves around such a man. Though, I’ve found that it can be just as effective to learn from the non-example.” Summer attempted lightly, though it was no secret that nearly all of the publicity for the event had been initiated by the young journalist. The moment she recognized the ancestry – the entire focus of the event has been shifted to Summer Gleeson and du Valliere.

As if Summer’s first impression of the man had not already began to plummet, he rotated the conversation to an unusual perspective. Her eyes glanced downward as he moved closer, a startled expression temporarily finding a place on the redhead’s features. With the statue to her back and the man in front of her, she didn’t have many options as far as escape was concerned. Her eyes shifted to either side, determined to seize the opportunity to squeeze through the space and dismiss the conversation. He began to recall the accounts from history as if he were there. Summer swallowed, unable to hide the perplexed expression on her pretty face as she struggled to determine what to say.

Either he was a dedicated character actor that the venue had hired for the event, or he had one too many to drink. The lingering scent often paired with those drinking was completely absent on the man before her. Considering the limited distance between them, she would certainly be the able to identify such a characteristic. “I don’t think I understand.” Summer attempted with a nervous laugh. Her eyes darted across the ballroom in search of a member of the event security. Her assumptions quickly took over. This sort of occurrence was pretty standard in the reporter’s life. This overly dedicated fan had taken her story and found a way to insert himself into the picture. Molding the truth with an abundance of research concerning the time period in question in an attempt to get close to the redhead. It had happened before on countless occasions in differentiated situations. While it was no less unsettling on this account, it was putting a damper on her evening.

His threat was highlighted even with his soft tone and the caress of her cheek. Summer grew tense as she truly processed hi words. She glanced upward at the announcement, her lips parted slightly and eyes wide. This hadn’t been on the agenda for the evening, which Summer found a bit aggravating considering they had revived the list half a dozen times this evening alone. As a majority of the room left out the nearest exit, the redhead seized the opportunity to squirm through the limited space so that she may create some distance between the man and herself. For the time being, it seemed like an unplanned coincidence.

Peeling her eyes from the imposing figure, she approached the nearest member of security. “Excuse me,” she began, lowering her voice so that it would not echo throughout the primarily empty hall. “That man, near the du Valliere statue, I need to have him escorted from premises, please.” Summer was almost afraid to send a glance behind her to insure that the man truly was standing at the statue. His words continued to trace through her head. Regardless how many times this super-fan may have rehearsed them, they were continuously unsettling.



outfit: click to see

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It was hard for Ra's not to look at the shuffling murmuring crowd and not see a flock sheep moving only because the person next to them was, paying little to no thought about what was beyond their group. If anything that made him a wolf in sheep's clothing, a resemblance he would prefer not to have rather he sees himself as the Shepard ready to protect and discipline if need be. And in a flash they were gone. There was nothing that could motivate a gathering of high society socialites like the threat of danger to their person, even if it be only a drill exercise. No doubt they would be too busy swanning about, guffawing about this momentary annoyance to such an extent that they give no thought to the actual sense of evacuating one of the Museum's most prestigious events for the sake of a coincidental routine. And true Ra's continued to stand by the statue, folding his arms over one another speechless while he watched the night's host fluster over the sudden change of plans before she attempted to address one of his men. Of course no response was given but the man came none the less, as did another bouncer from the nearest door.

"Do not struggle." As he gave a consolation, the kindness word he could give, to not fight the unavoidable situation she found herself in, Ra's snapped his tendril like fingers, summoning a third Assassin who was wearing another waiter's outfit. Of course they didn't kill these men for their clothing, that would have left too many questions in the wake of the operation as the police wonder why not only has one of Gotham's premium journalists been found murdered but why so many employees of the institute had also fell to the blade. Death comes for everyone eventually but the Demon had only made a pact to ensure her fate, not theirs and frankly he didn't give them enough thought to make a judgment. As the third man made his way over, carrying something in his hands, the first two men marched up to Summer and grasped her tightly by both arms, wrapping a hand around her mouth before dragging her over to a nearby exhibition which was in fact an Aztec sacrificial table. An irony Ra's thought was too good not to abuse.

As they forced her head down on the cold slab of stone, eroded by time and the knife marks of the priest's blade alike, the third man brought the item to his master, bending down onto one knee while holding it up above his head pointed away from him. It was a sword, a scimitar old enough to be a prize collection of the Middle East section of the museum. It was elegant, forged from Damascus steel half a millennia ago in Ra's' home land of Persia by masters who had names long forgotten by only but a few. Ten thousand men had fallen to this tempered blade of precise execution and soon its edge would feel the warm embrace of the nape of her beautiful neck. With a pull he removed it from its black sheath and ran his hand down the blade, inspecting the perfect metal work before swinging it around in a simple yet ornate fashion, literally getting back into the swing of things before holding it out with both hands.



Ra's too had walked over to the table where she was forced down upon and he too stood by her, showing no sign of pity or remorse for what he was about to do. "Speak your last, Summer Gleeson, descendant of Marcel du Valliere and know me as Ra' al Ghul, Head of the Demon."

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The strange man’s words echoed through her head as she moved to take action. To think she had faced many of Gotham’s terrors in as little as the past few months and had never felt quite as undone as she did now. Flustered and eager for a solution, she had already felt proactive when she managed to acquire a bit of distance between the pair of them. Summer’s confidence quickly escalated assuming the nearest member of security would quickly ease all of her worries by removing the man from her sight. Speaking of which, there was unsettling something about him, clearly he had been quick to take Summer Gleeson’s ancestry reveal and twist and mangle the story to include himself. She’d had similar issues before though none by far had managed to send chills racing down her spine or escalate quite so quickly.

When the man did not quickly charge into action and meet her demand, Summer’s nostrils flared. She was obviously intimidated by the man positioned behind her, her voice rising octaves as she quickly followed up her demand. “Is something the matter? I asked you to escort him off the premises.” The hostess repeated, a bit firmer this time as if to show it was hardly a request, but an order. Quickly, Summer noticed two figures moving briskly toward her. She turned her head so quickly that her cascading copper curls nearly hit her in the face. Something was not right and it had become all too clear in that instant that these men were not at all the staff she had hired. In a desperate attempt, she began to lurch toward the nearest exit.

The wide-eyed damsel didn’t get as much as a foot before she was roughly seized by the strong pairs of hands. Despite her jerking and desperate struggles, a large hand clamped tightly over her open mouth, creating a tight seal over the scream that was in the process of leaving it. Her head forced backward, leaning into her captors shoulder as she was dragged toward one of the exhibits. Summer’s heels made an unpleasant squeal as they rubbed against the marble flooring. His tight hold rendered her motionless after an expertise compilation of moves. Summer was forced to stare up at the chandelier as she was relocated to the promise of a tragic fate.

The perplexed redhead continued to fight against her captors, making little progress without delaying the pair. Within the minute, Summer found the side of her face pressed forcefully against the table. A deep shaky gasp left her freed lips as her chest rose and fell behind the tasteful gown. She could hardly move with her newfound arrangement. Her eyes were watering as an automatic response to the chaos and fear, lightly smudging her eye make-up as she did her best to observe her situation.

Her distorted gaze caught the glimmer of the curved weapon quickly and provided her with a quick motivator to start talking. “W-wait! NO!” She stammered, her panicked tone echoing throughout the empty hall. “Please, you don’t have to do this.” The redhead attempted weakly, clearly unsure of who she was dealing with. It was quite clear by his stature and the cold look in his eyes that he had every intent of ending her life. “du Valliere has been dead for years! It’s pointless to continue any vendetta against me when I’ve done nothing to you! My death isn’t going to make you feel any less resentment toward him. It would be meaningless!” Summer attempted, eyes pleading. “Surely there is something else that I could do to settle this. If you kill me, you kill any chance of finding a much more satisfying solution.”



outfit: click to see

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Only muffled pleas for help sounded through the expansive marble hall that the huddle of either heavily armed men or screaming journalists stood in. Through out the rest of the building rang the fire alarm, blinding the cowering socialites to the calls for help from inside the building. Thankfully they'd be too busy complaining about the embarrassing situation, in that they; Gotham's greatest, had been forced out onto the very cold streets to wait when they could be inside, broadcasting their social importance through the light clashing of champagne glasses. As they sighed into the freezing embrace of the night's air, Ra's al Ghul too felt as much heat in his soul. Dispassion came to him as easily as breathing: the ability to turn off whatever created feelings of guilt so that mercy and compassion would not interfere with his chilling logical thought process. "No pleasure can be received from this task yet honour dictates that I act according to my promised vow. You will die in ignorance, blind to the circumstances which brought you to this swift end. Your life will be mine."

With the twist of his wrist, Ra's spun the scimitar around in the palm of his hand in a calm manner. Beams of light from the chandelier above bounced across the edge of the blade as it slashed through the perfumed air. And as quickly as he began moving it he stopped it by clasping another hand down upon the pommel before slowly arcing the weapon up over his head so that it seemingly blotted out the light from above. "Your death will give me some solace, that this retribution is one step closer to completion. When Du Valliere's blood line is burnt from existence, when his name is ashes in the wind, then I will reap some level of pleasure. Now be silent, compose your self and pass from this World with some shred of dignity to your name." Another life taken by his blade, again it would feel the warm embrace of the condemned and for a time its hunger would be vanquished but it would only be a matter of time until the next victim met its cold brand of finality. Then why did he pause? The devil inside of him barked the order to be done with it, cleave her head from the nape of her neck and the name would Summer Gleeson would be no more. Then again though her execution was a certain, the date and location was a variable which he could work with. It would make far more tactical sense for the League to make good use of her skills or her fame for their own purposes. The kiss of death would greet her another day.

Forcing some effort into pulling the sword down, releasing the pent up momentum within him only to pause at the last moment and hold it an inch above her throat, Ra's made it clear that there would be a change of plans. "Your words have persuaded me, Miss Gleeson. Your death would serve no end that your life could not award on a greater scale. Understand that you are mine to command now, you act only with my guidance and by the end of your servitude you will wish that I had given you the sword." With a click of his fingers the men released her and the scabbard was brought forth for the sword to be stored in. Like an unfed animal it barked for substance as it was slid away from the light of day for another time without the warmth of a kill clinging to its frame. "You will come with us."

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It was a rare occasion when her words couldn’t alter her circumstance. Not to say that she had a way with them specifically, but she had spent a fair amount of her time in Gotham squeezing out of tight situations. Her life had been threatened a handful of times but never had she come so undeniably close to death. She could see the gleam of the blade from the corner of her eye. Her breathing came in sharp, hollow gasps in between her words. He seemed so certain in heading her demise. Summer struggled for words that almost impulsively flew from her lips as she tried to find a solution.

Another part of her found it difficult to accept this as a reality, even though it was being set in motion before her very eyes. She knew if she didn’t do something quick, her blood would be decorating the exhibit within the minute. But what to do? She was being held tightly, practically immobilized with one pair of strong hands. Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them back, far too stubborn to succumb to such a vulnerable act. A meager plea tumbled from her parted lips as she contemplated her next argument, but what else to say? He instructed her to be silent and she pursed her lips and closed her eyes. He was unyielding and she predicted his swift motions, all of which leading up to her eminent death.

With a bated breath, Summer Gleeson’s fondest memories flashed rapidly through her mind as she attempted to come to terms with her situation. A newfound wind caused her to struggle once more against her captor, though her attempts were useless and the side of her face remained pressed against the display.

With an uncertain change of heart, the blade didn’t as much as nick her slender neck. Still struggling to regulate her breathing, she attempted to investigate. As she was released, Summer pushed herself away from the haunting exhibit and scrambled across the smooth floors to create a distance from the men. “What?” She asked shakily, as if his words did not make sense, though she had heard his statement ever-so clearly. It was the only thing she could focus on. Chest heaving, she slowly managed to her feet, her legs practically wobbling. She contemplated running, though in her condition she knew that her distance would be laughable.

Her courage slowly began to return, trickling through her as she prepared her response. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Summer informed him firmly, still unable to find a grasp on her own situation. This was madness. She still could not figure out the character before her, but she was full aware that she was nowhere in the position to call the shots. Where he planned to take her was far beyond her, even the images that currently transitioned through her heard were nothing like what she was going to experience. “If you need me for this….closure we will call it, surely we can work the details here and now. You've already gone through the efforts to delay my event and you certainly have my full attention.” The young reporter declared, unclear of his intentions. She tried to keep a level head as well as sound completely reasonable in her request - after all, this man only moments ago had the intention of murdering her.




outfit: click to see

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He slapped her. The back of his hand met with her cheek and a crack upon connection rang out in an attempt to silence her babbling fit of terror. Did he enjoy using physical violence against her? Of course not but unlike most men of the modern age Ra's came from a time where women were held as little more than male possessions to use or even abuse and in this respect he held no special preferential treatment for the fairer sex. Five hundred years ago he was ahead of his time with his views on gender and even race, holding the arguably twenty first century belief that skill should be the only determinant for achievement and that the circumstances of your birth held little to no sway over the path you take later in life. And though this means that in theory there are equal opportunities for men and women it also means that there will be an equal doling out of punishments. "Silence your whimpers. By my grace you live. This is not a gift but a loan, an expectation for future reinvestment on your half. Until a time when I deem that you will no longer be of any use to me you will speak only when spoken to and do as your told or you'll long for the quick edge of my blade, understand?" No time for a response was given before he turned his back and made his way for one of the side exits near the far side of the hall.

Those who had disguised themselves as members of the catering staff or security guards either grab Summer or trail after their Master, reporting to the waiting vehicle that there's been a change of plan and that they're on route to their position. With the Hall behind them, the group and their captive begin to make their way through a back door maintenance corridor between two different exhibition areas, passing a number of artefacts waiting either repair or to be moved into view. As he passed the rows of decrepit portraits, the frames covered with a dashing of dust and cobwebs, he realised that he never quite understood the purpose of museums. Ra's al Ghul had found that Humanity is adverse to change in any format with people likely to cling onto whatever tethers of their former world they can find and museums are an extension of this allergic reaction to progress. This is a monument, and people love nothing more than praying to a silent embodiment of stagnation, a shard of what once was. It was fear that kept society shackled to the past, unwilling to adopt, to evolve when great moments call for it. That is what the League of Assassins was formed for, to provide the push that Man needs to cross the Rubicon so to speak.

"For now what I will ask from you will not be difficult but it will be revolutionary. I want you to give the people hope, use your journalistic gifts to instil some form of idealistic state. Explain to them that Gotham is entering a golden age with a reduction of crime and increase of Government led initiatives to lift the poverty stricken from their depraved situations. Support the Arkham City build, examine how Lex Luthor is creating a greater infrastructure for the City and most importantly of all, tell the people that the age of the super hero is at an end as people without masks begin to make a stand." Hope is the most destructive emotion, for there is no fall without the hope of reaching the other side.

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Eyes wide and watery, her body turned completely with the impact of his unexpected blow. Mouth open, words failed her as she brought her hand to the side of her face. Summer covered the reddened area as she forced herself to look back to her attacker, still struggling to form a sentence. “You are mad!” She managed finally, though he effectively silenced her once more with his command. Summer was not typically so compliant, but after her ordeal at Iceberg, Cobblepott had surely sucked some of the fight out of the restless reporter. Even now, she was haunted by flashbacks with the similarities in her situation. She felt helpless. Her classes with Lara would be useless in such a situation. Self-defense was one thing in a one-on-one encounter, but here she was surrounded by individuals far more superior in such a skillset.

Eyes filled with horror, she finally lowered her hand from her cheek. Her eyes swept across the venue, attempting to search for some sort of out. She figured that for now – she would play into this game. He had proved that he was not above violence and being compliant surely would avoid a painful repeat. As she opened her mouth to reply with a timid ‘yes’, he turned away from her.

Folding her arms self-consciously in front of her, she hardly had the time to process what terms she had so reluctantly began to agree to when strong hands seized her once more. Her body tensed up at their harsh grasp. The passage through the museum was a blur of colors as Summer once again attempted to configure a plan. She felt dizzy, her throat dry as she was being maneuvered through the exhibits.

With an impulsive attempt, she launched forward to kick an exhibit, hoping its contents would come tumbling upon her captors. Her foot collided with the handle of a scythe, causing the object to propel toward the group at an alarming rate. Summer prepared to be hastily released and launch herself in the nearest direction clear of her captors. Of course, her plan did not go so smoothly. Only one pair of hands left her body, the other set only tightening their grip on her bare shoulders so tightly that she winced. The other quickly caught the weapon with ease, tossing it aside with a glare in the reporter’s direction. Without even a minute-long delay, they continued.

“You’re working with Lex Luthor? Or for him…” She asked almost automatically. She’d had a silly, school-girl crush on the man since her arrival in Gotham City. He had a major hand in the new developments for Arkham City, though she was struggling to make some connections. The first half of his command didn’t seem to be much of an issue for the young reporter, though there was a noticeable twitch in her face at the last comment. “You want me to turn the city against the masks?” It was obvious she was uneasy with such an idea. “That’s certainly going to generate a great deal of questions. To one day go from an outspoken supporter to suddenly switching over to the opposite stance. When the Batman shows up at my window am I allowed to mention that I am being exploited by Ra’s al Gluh?” With an obvious bitterness to her voice, she couldn’t help but lash out. She felt backed into a corner, with a complete loss of control.



outfit: click to see

[Deleted]

"Tell the Detective what you will, he will provide protection for you from our grasp no doubt. But what of your family? Friends? Work colleagues? To purchase your silence I am willing to personally destroy everyone you hold dear and know that I am speaking true when I say I will find great personal pleasure in doing so." There had been times when entire dynasties had fell to the blades of the League of Assassins for sufficiently angering them. And to protect his interest in the Arkham project Ra's was willing to do that and more to this particularly innocent member of the free press. Though even if she did run to the Dark Knight to tell him of their meeting what could he do to stop what was already happening? This movement is not purely a League affair, if he desired to stop it he would have to openly challenge the City government and the various conglomerates who had vested time and finances into the construction of the site. Furthermore the will of the people had been coerced into supporting such a design so in a sense seeing him struggle would only further destroy his all important reputation.

They continued to veer through the dank and dimly lit behind the scenes corridors to the loading bay entrance where their getaway vehicle waited, a stark contrast to the elegant opulence of the large showroom they had quickly left behind. Time was short, the alarms would shortly end and the rescue services would no doubt have arrived. "I merely desire you to do your job and inform the people of the truth of the matter. Their services are no longer required, man will be taking back control from the gods and steering their own destiny through such revolutionary operations. Furthermore make it known that if any vigilante opposes this change then they are opposing the will of the law and the citizens of Gotham which is only true." There was no way that the likes of Batman and his allies could secure victory in this matter. Either they do nothing or they fight the people they swore to protect.

As she pulled away for the second time, a look was given to the Men who were supposed to be holding her that indicated that they were doing their job poorly so with a nod Ra's allowed them to strike her again to keep her in a docile state. He didn't wince as the large man struck her across the cheek with his reaction being one of an impatient individual. "Do not become a burden and persuade me that you'd be of more use to me dead now you will come." Turning on his heels Ra's continued to march down the corridor and through another set of doors which opened out into the large exit where another team of men waited, their eyes on their master and their fingers ready by the triggers of the rifles that they held. Unlike the disguised team that had accompanied Ra's they all wore black and were ready for a fight if one broke out. They held the rear van door open for their Master who stood aside and let Summer climb in first.