Over The Edge

     Bruce felt the wind behind him carry him forward as he sprinted for the entrance to Nanda Parbat. He passed the blood-soaked body of the guard near the entrance and felt a tinge of regret. If he'd realized Ra's plan before, maybe he could have warned the monks. Maybe this man didn't need to die.

     Bruce ran through the tunnel, steeling himself against what he knew would be a massacre. But as he passed through the opening, he saw something entirely different. A few bodies of monks lay on the ground, but dozens more were very much alive.
     The hundred-or-so assassins sprayed a hail of bullets in every direction, but the monks dodged, flipped, and spun through the air, dancing around them in every which direction. One assassin reached forward and grabbed a monk's robe; the monk merely twirled around and shoved his palm into the assassin's chest, sending the assassin flying backwards a full fifty feet before landing on the ground, unconscious. Another monk used a staff to knock away three assassins at once, as though he were swatting flies out of the air.
     Bruce was astonished, but still concerned. Where was Ra's?
     The temple doors were flung open. There.

     Bruce entered the temple with no interference from either the assassins or the monks. They were too busy with each other, and Bruce suspected the monks knew Bruce wasn't a threat.
     Ra's stood at the altar, reaching for the treasures that lay upon it. Before he or Bruce could even see what had happened, the master suddenly stood on the other side of the altar.
     "So," the master said, "you return to steal from this temple. This cannot be allowed."
     Ra's laughed.
     The master narrowed his eyes. "One should not laugh in the face of his elders, young one."
     Ra's glared into the old eyes of the master and grinned. "You are not my elder. And I did not come here to steal from the altar; I came to break it!"
     Ra's kicked the altar, sending a large blue glass orb tumbling onto the floor.
     The master gasped and fell to the ground, unconscious.
     Bruce heard the sounds of battle behind him fade. The monks had lost consciousness as well.

     "RA'S!" Bruce yelled across the temple.
     Ra's turned around in angered surprise. "Should I ask how you escaped, young detective? Did you overpower my daughter, or did you seduce her in my absence?"
     "What did you do?!"
     "Do you not know what this place truly is? It stands upon a nexus of energy, the intersection of lines of power that run across the earth. This altar focuses that energy and gives this place its mystical nature."
     Bruce understood. That was why time moved more slowly here.
     "So you just removed the altar's keystone."
     "Yes," Ra's replied, picking up the orb. "These monks have long lived on borrowed time. Their lives are now tuned to to its power. Without it, their life force ceases to exist."
     "So you came all this way just to kill some monks?"
     "No, I came here for that's beneath. I told you that lines of energy intersect here; the earth underneath this temple is the source of immense power. The kind of power that no amount of wealth or force can grant. True power."
     Bruce glanced at the master's still body. "The power of life and death."
     Ra's grinned. "Precisely, detective."

     Bruce heard the commotion of assassins running towards the temple doors. He half-turned towards the door, kicked it closed, then jammed it shut with a knife.
     Ra's was somewhere between surprised and impressed. "Do you intend to try to stop me?"
     "You're damned right."
     Ra's laughed. "Very well, boy."
     Bruce ran forward while Ra's steadied himself. Bruce threw a flurry of precise jabs and kicks, but Ra's merely dodged them, all while holding the orb in his left hand. Ra's kicked Bruce to the floor, then threw the orb to the ground with his full strength. It hit the hard wood with a loud thud, but didn't even crack.
     "Well, then," Ra's said, "if I can't break the orb, I might as well toss it down the nearest bottomless ravine."
     Ra's threw the orb onto an upper balcony in the room, then began climbing a long tapestry that hung from that level. Bruce grabbed a parallel tapestry and followed. They both landed on the second level at the same time, but Ra's quickly ducked into a nearby hallway. Bruce ran after him, around a corner and through an open window onto the roof of the temple.
     Ra's stood at the edge of the roof, directly over the ravine. The wind gusted across the roof, filling the air with so much snow that it clouded Bruce and Ra's' visibility. Bruce ducked behind a nearby chimney and reached for the pouch on his belt.
     "Hiding, are we, detective?" Ra's yelled over the wind. "Come now, face me!"
     "Put the orb down safely, Ra's!" Bruce yelled back.
     Ra's laughed. "Why? What use do you truly have for it? Think, boy! I have already told you what lies beneath this temple; why would you instead choose the monks? In all your time here, what have they actually taught you? What supposedly great knowledge have you learned?"
     Ra's felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and glanced down to see a large shuriken—one of the League's designs—embedded in his thigh. Before he could look up, Bruce's foot hit his face, sending him off his feet.
     Bruce picked up the orb and stood over Ra's.
     "I learned to be quiet."
     Ra's snarled at Bruce as he pulled the shuriken out of his leg and painfully stood up.
     "Fine," said Ra's. "You want to face me? You want to match your strength against mine? I will oblige."
     Bruce wrapped the orb gently in a scarf and put it aside, then set himself in a fighting stance.

     Ra's ran at Bruce. Bruce turned to dodge, but Ra's caught him with a locked elbow and twisted Bruce around, throwing him ten feet across the roof. Bruce rolled and caught himself, jumping back up and sprinting forward. He threw a kick at Ra's head, but Ra's easily countered it with a jab of the knuckles into a nerve in Bruce's thigh. Bruce fell, halfway paralyzed by the blow. Ra's raised his foot to stomp on Bruce's throat, but Bruce rolled aside and struck Ra's on the back of his knee, sending Ra's toppling down.
     Bruce struggled to his feet. He glanced at the bloodstain on Ra's' leg; it was getting bigger. Good. Ra's would be getting weaker now.
     Ra's and Bruce threw a flurry of jabs and kicks at each other, causing little more than bruises. Bruce felt himself getting weaker, while Ra's only looked more menacing, the look in his eyes growing madder and more malicious like an ancient feral animal.
     Ra's grabbed hold of Bruce, threw him into the roof with enough force to crack it, then jumped, ready to deliver a powerful kick. Bruce pushed himself through the pain and moved aside, barely missing Ra's foot as it punched a hole in the roof.
     Ra's pinned Bruce down, grabbing the shuriken he'd tossed aside before and clasping it between his fingers. Bruce reached inside the hole in the roof, grabbed a broken piece of wood, and smashed it across Ra's face. Ra's recoiled for a moment, long enough for Bruce to grab the scarf holding the orb. Bruce rolled on his stomach, holding the orb inside the hole in the roof.
     Ra's held Bruce down with his knee, shuriken in hand, ready for the killing blow. Bruce dropped the orb through the hole. With a loud glass-on-metal CLANG, the orb landed directly on its perch on the altar.
     The air around them immediately stilled, and the snow seemed to clear.
     Ra's looked over his shoulder to see the master, standing perfectly calm and still on the edge of the roof. Ra's growled, then ran for the master. The master neatly deflected Ra's momentum with a single sidestep and the tip of his finger. Ra's toppled over the edge, falling into the abyss.

     All across Nanda Parbat, the monks stood up and fought back once again. The assassins, caught off guard, were defeated in seconds.

     Bruce struggled to get up, but couldn't. The master closed his eyes and touched four points on Bruce's back. Suddenly Bruce realized he could stand up.
     "What did you do?" he asked the master.
     "Something you may learn, if you choose to stay."
     "...I can stay?"
     "Yes. We knew you did not attempt any deception. However, we wished to test what was in your heart." The master nodded towards the ravine. "Had you chosen to ally yourself with the assassins, you might share his fate."
     Bruce walked to the edge and looked down. Ra's was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the bottom of the ravine.

     "Why did you tell me you sought power and vengeance when you first arrived?" the master asked. "I have seen you seek nothing but the opposite."
     Bruce sighed. "I don't want to be a murderer. But I do want people—criminals, thieves, murderers—to pay for what they've done. For as long as I live, I'll never stop fighting them. No matter what it takes."
     The master nodded. "You deprive yourself of many of the desires of life—family, companionship, love—in exchange for a greater focus on your task. To sacrifice worldly desire is a good thing, young one. But what of your anger? Save for not killing, you are unwilling to let it go."
     "I forge my anger into a weapon. I turn it away from the innocent and focus on the corrupt."
     "But you cannot turn it away from yourself. You will always be the true victim of your anger, far more than any adversary."
     "...I don't care. I'll do it anyway. My life is less important than my mission."
     The master stood silently for a long moment.
     "Very well. Rest, young one. We have much to teach you in the morning."
     "...I need to check on something first."

     Bruce stood in the snow-covered, empty remains of the assassins' camp. The main building had been burnt to the ground, leaving nothing more than a charred pile of ash and metal. Talia was nowhere in sight. Bruce was momentarily concerned. Did something go wrong? Did Talia die here?
     Bruce turned and walked back toward Nanda Parbat. He stopped, however, when he saw a set of snowmobile tracks headed away from the camp and out of the mountains. So she made it, Bruce thought. Wherever she is, she's better off now. Free from her father's madness.

Betrayal

     Bruce was tied to a chair in the control room. Talia watched over him from across the room, her arms crossed.
     They were alone in the room; Ra's and his army had left for Nanda Parbat, leaving only a few men at the base. Bruce didn't want to even think about the slaughter that was taking place.

     "Why, Talia?"
     "Why what?"
     "Why kill?"
     "Don't be so naive. Do you really think the world can change without the death of evil men?"
     "I believe men can change for the better."
     "All of them?"
     "...Maybe not all. But some. The others can rot in prison. But they don't have to die."
     "Why not, Bruce? Why not? Your parents were killed, were they not? Would you hesitate to kill the man who killed your parents?"
     "...I wouldn't kill him, no."
     "You wouldn't want vengeance for your parents?"
     "Of course I want it. But if I killed him, I'd be no better than he."
     "Oh, spare me the philosophy! Would the world not be a safer place without him in it? Why not execute every rapist and serial murderer in your accursed city?!"
     "Because every one of them might have a family, like I did. Like you did. Killing them all would only create more empty homes, and ruin those mens' chances for redemption."
     "And what if your justice system judges those men guilty and executes them?"
     "That's the prerogative of the law. We elect representatives to help decide what justice is."
     "Is every judge unbiased? Is every jury? There are things the law cannot do. You yourself know this. Your parents' killer was never caught, correct? My father told me you came to this place seeking vengeance for them. If the law is so perfect, why is your journey necessary?"
     "There are flaws in the system, like any system. But it's better than wholesale slaughter. I seek justice above and beyond what the law is capable of doing, yes. But not through murder."
     Talia shook her head. "I can't imagine you're upset that Deadshot was 'murdered.' He even escaped that supposedly-inescapable prison they put him in the first time."
     "...I'll admit, I'm not sorry he's gone. But that doesn't give you the right to execute him. What right have you over the life and death of others?"
     "You don't understand, Bruce. My father and I... our league... we have no country. No home to go to. We hold no allegiance to any laws of any country. And we will kill those who are evil."
     Bruce noticed Talia's voice quiver slightly over her last few words.
     "Talia, if your father says he only wants to kill those who are evil in his quest, then why is he killing the monks out there right now?"
     Talia didn't respond for a long moment. Bruce saw doubt and sadness creep into her face.
     "My father... says that the monks are impeding his progress in his quest. That they stand in the way of knowledge."
     "The monks of Nanda Parbat are the most peaceful people in the entire world. They hold no malice whatsoever. And your father is going to kill them... for what? Some vague great knowledge?"
     Tears welled in Talia's eyes. Bruce had seen tears like that only once before, once when his mother visited dying veterans in one of their family's hospitals.
     "You don't like killing, do you?"
     "...I care not if I kill those who deserve it."
     "But the people that don't... the people your father steps on in his quest for personal gain..."
     Talia looked into Bruce's eyes for a moment. She wasn't sure she could trust him. There was no one in the world she trusted with her inner thoughts. Not any of Ra's' men, not Ubu... not even her father.
     She relented. "I love my father," she said, her voice trembling. "...But I do not share his apathy for innocent blood. He claims that... that it is necessary. That every life we take in our quest is justified by the righteousness of our cause."
     "But you don't believe that."
     "...I... no. I do not."
     Bruce recognized the look on her face.
     "Because of your mother?"
     Talia looked up, surprised at first. But of course Bruce would understand this, she realized.
     "Yes. My mother was a selfless woman who cared for my father despite his harshness. She loved me and raised me when my father was too busy at war or planning the next battle. She never deserved to die. Not even if her death had been 'necessary' for the cause... she would never have deserved to die."
     "Then stop your father. Help end this madness."
     "...I cannot. I may not agree with him, but... I love him. I could never fight him."
     "Then let me."

     Talia wiped the tears from her face, walked across the room, and cut Bruce's ropes.
     "Go," she said, turning to the computers. "I will divert the troops still in the base away while you head for the temple. The armory is on the way; make use of it."
     Bruce put his hand on Talia's shoulder.
     "Thank you."
     Talia nodded, doing her best to retain her resolve and ignore her betrayal.
     "Hurry."

Detective

     Bruce lay in his bed, turning over everything in his mind.
     Ra's claimed to be a man seeking knowledge in order to peacefully aid mankind toward advancement. He also claimed that he was here in the mountains because Nanda Parbat was the source of powerful knowledge. Both Bruce and Ra's had been accused of trying to steal from the temple. Bruce knew he hadn't stolen anything, but Ra's had already lied to Bruce once before. And Bruce doubted that the monks would have made up that story or been mistaken.
     There was another thing. Ra's said that the men under his command were simply there to help the cause, but they were obviously under a military structure. Ra's said that they were largely there as a security force, and considering Talia's story about the attack that killed her mother... it could be true. If Bruce could have hired a small army to protect his parents, he would have. But... no. These men weren't prepared for an outside attack. The base wasn't laid out in any defensive pattern, nor was there anything resembling a radar dish to watch for an aerial assault. And even more disturbing, who would attack the camp here in the Himalayas? In the African desert, where water is scarce and tribes can be violent, sure, but here? Who on Earth would have the resources to do that? What kind of enemies did Ra's—a supposed humanitarian—have that were so dangerous?

     Bruce got up and left his room. In the few weeks he'd spent at the temple, he'd learned almost nothing that he'd consider practical, but he did learn quite a bit about spiritual and physical balance. The monks were insistent upon total silence unless necessary—especially in the temple walls—so Bruce quickly learned how to walk silently. As he carefully stepped through the dark hallway, his footsteps less audible than a whisper, he heard Ra's' bedroom door open. Bruce quickly ducked behind a corner, using the warped reflection of a nearby vase to see down the hallway. Ra's stepped out of his room, wrapped in a green cape. Bruce risked a glance around the corner. Ra's stood taller and prouder than before, his hair and his beard well-groomed. His hair, at a certain angle, almost seemed shaped into horns. His cape was a dark emerald, with golden lines of Arabic text woven into the edges. A large curved sword was sheathed on his belt, which was covered by an elaborate sash. He might have seemed kingly to some. Bruce knew, however, that all it meant was that Ra's believed himself a king.
     Ra's said something quietly to Ubu at his side, then left out the main door. Bruce quickly went to Ra's' door, checked to make sure it wasn't rigged with an alarm, then quickly stepped inside. The room was definitely laid out for royalty. Golden artifacts from a dozen ancient civilizations were arranged across the room, almost like an Egyptian tomb. Bookshelves lined one wall. Bruce glanced at them and almost instinctively recoiled. They were books of alchemical black magic. Some were simple scientific research on mystical rituals from around the world, but some of them seemed to be legitimate tomes of dark mysticism.
     The closet door had a keypad on it. Bruce typed in "TALIA." Nothing happened. Bruce went to the bookshelf and pulled out a book of ancient Arabic translations. He looked up "Ra's." Arabic translation: "رأس." Literal meaning: "head." That figured. Bruce guessed that it was likely a name Ra's chose for himself, rather than one he was given. Next, Bruce translated "Al Ghul." Arabic translation: "الغول." Literal meaning: ...Bruce nearly felt a shiver reading it. He went back to the keypad and entered the full translation:
     "THE DEMONS HEAD"
     The door slid open.
     It was a dark room filled with computer displays, maps, and a large illuminated glass table. Bruce went to the nearest computer and looked through its system. It was a database, apparently, filled with folders named for events organized by date and geography. Bruce was shocked when he glanced at the current date on the system: March fifth. That wasn't possible. He looked at every other computer and saw the same thing. Bruce had arrived at the temple on March third and spent over five weeks there. It should be April seventh. Either every clock in this incredibly advanced base was somehow off by a month, or something truly bizarre affected the passage of time in Nanda Parbat.
     Bruce opened one folder on the computer named "STRYKER'S ISLAND 23-11-09." A video file was inside; Bruce accessed it.
     The video showed a darkened prison cell, with Floyd Lawton, Deadshot, strapped to it. A lone young woman stood before him—it was Talia.
    "You failed, Lawton," she said.
     "Yeah, sue me." Lawton flippantly replied.
     "It's a shame, really. Had you succeeded, you might have been on your way to one day joining us."
     "Joining? Who, Luthorcorp? Yeah, I 'aint the businessman type. Look, are you done? Are you gonna get me out of here, or what?"
     "I speak not of Luthorcorp."
     "Wait, what...? Aw, seriously? You're upset over that job? Come on; that was a stupid plan anyway! I mean, why'd you need—"
     "My father's designs are not to be questioned, least of all by you. Your assignment was merely a small part in his grand plan."
     "Huh. Okay. Well, little girl, you go tell your daddy I'm sorry, and that I'll do better next time."
     Talia didn't blink.
     "The League of Assassins does not allow failure, Floyd Lawton."
     Talia reached behind her back, slowly pulling a short sword from its sheath. With a single swift motion, she stepped forward and stabbed, slipping the blade gently into Floyd's heart. She then stepped back, wiped her blade, and sheathed it.

     "Apparently you are quite the detective," a voice said from behind Bruce. It was Ra's.
     "And you're the head of a league of assassins," Bruce said as he turned around.
     Talia stood behind Ra's, her stance firm as if to support her father, but her face slightly dismayed.
     "Yes," said Ra's, "it was unfortunately necessary for me to hide the truth from you. My League is indeed often known—whenever it is known at all—as the League of Shadows, for many do not appreciate the fact that for the world to truly rise above its state of dismay, many must die. There are few who truly know its real name, the League of Assassins."
     "I've heard of the League of Assassins before," Bruce said. "There've been whispers about you in Gotham for decades. I ran into some of your people once—the hooked ones."
     Ra's almost sneered. "Those imbeciles were not my men! That pathetic hooked assassin's guild was made of mere pretenders. Children playing at a master's game. They were defeated by the local police, were they not? No, my league is made of only the finest; those who truly understand the art of death."
     "Like Deadshot?"
     "An unfortunate and rare error in judgment on my part. He was never truly part of the league; we used him to unbalance the scales of economic power."
     Bruce caught on instantly. "You wanted him to kill all of us at Excelsior. Me, Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor..."
     "Yes, in fact, I did. You underestimate the true power you wield with merely your family name. The Wayne and Luthor names notably have great influence in America."
     "And without heirs to either company, you figured you could slip in and control a huge chunk of American industry, and have easy access to the best medical, biological, and weapons technology in the world."
     Ra's grinned. "Once again I must credit you, detective. You truly are a remarkable young man. But I must leave you now; I have an invasion scheduled for tonight."
     Bruce had feared this, but hoped he was wrong. Ra's had indeed tried to steal from Nanda Parbat under the false guise of a humble student, and now that he'd failed, he was going to use a small army to invade the temple, armed to the teeth with every modern firearm known to man. The monks were all going to die.