"A very old name. Arabic, if you must know."
As Bruce and Ra's walked through the camp, the men in black stopped in place to bow towards Ra's. Although they were all fully masked, Bruce had the biting feeling that they were all staring daggers at him.
"Who are these people?" Bruce asked.
"They are my devoted servants. Their lives are pledged to me."
As Ra's walked among his servants, Bruce noticed his stance became more proud. If Bruce didn't know better, he'd have thought Ra's was royalty. Even Ra's' speech patterns and accent were different. More European. Mostly British, mixed with Romanian.
"Why did they pledge their lives to you, exactly?" Bruce asked.
Ra's grinned. "I do not exaggerate when I say that I am a man of great influence. Many simply find it in their nature to follow me wherever I command. Are you so different from me?"
"I don't keep servants."
"No? Your wealth, combined with your parents' reputation, makes you a very powerful young man indeed, mister Wayne."
Bruce stopped in his place.
Ra's turned and gave Bruce a patronizing look. "Young boy, among the elite of society, your fame is far-reaching. For someone as obviously well-connected as I, how could I not recognize the prince of Gotham City?"
Bruce uneasily continued walking. He already didn't trust Ra's, but now he was beginning to feel threatened.
Bruce and Ra's entered one of the makeshift buildings. The interior looked like the inside of a mansion. Wood paneling and floors, fine carpet, antique furniture, and not a hint of the weather outside.
A large bald man in a white robe bowed to Ra's. "Master, I have a bath and a change of clothes ready for you."
"Thank you, Ubu," said Ra's. "Please, extend the same courtesy to our guest." He gestured to Bruce, then pulled Ubu close and whispered in his ear. Ubu bowed both to Ra's and Bruce, then walked down the hallway, gesturing for Bruce to follow.
"This is your room," Ubu said as they approached a door.
Bruce nodded politely and reached for the handle. Ubu suddenly clamped his hand on Bruce's wrist and glared into his eyes.
"If you dare... try anything," Ubu said with a whisper, "anything... threatening... to my master, I will kill you."
Bruce glared back into Ubu's eyes. He had always been able to make people back off or in some cases recoil in fear if he stared hard enough in just the right way. He didn't know why, but he suspected that most people simply hadn't seen that level of anger and pain before. But here... Ubu didn't flinch. Apparently, Ubu's dedication to Ra's ran more deeply than anything Bruce had seen before.
After Ubu left, Bruce dropped his things in his room and left to explore the base. He mapped it in his mind as he went, taking note of every detail. There were five separate small buildings in the base. Two were dedicated to housing the omnipresent black-clad troopers that watched Bruce wherever he went. Two others were sheds for sheltering the snowmobiles and other vehicles the troops used to traverse the snowy landscape. The building in the center was five times the size of all the others, and due to its layout Bruce suspected that it was built to recreate a large home elsewhere, similar to how Wayne Tower in Metropolis echoed Wayne Manor in Gotham.
Bruce found many locked doors in the central building, but he did find one thing that piqued his curiosity: a library. Why would Ra's Al Ghul need a library? Surely he wasn't reliant upon physical media; he clearly had all manner of technology at his disposal. As far as Bruce could tell, despite its ornate nature, no other room in the building was superfluous. Every single room had a purpose. But this one?
"You seem troubled."
A dark-haired young woman stared at Bruce from the doorway. Another enigma, apparently. Her voice was... vaguely European. A tinge Romanian. As she walked in the door, her every step fell with perfect poised precision, and her mysterious eyes never wavered from Bruce's.
"I was wondering why Ra's needs a library out here in the Himalayas," Bruce said.
"My father likes to think in here," the young woman said.
"Your father?"
"Yes," said Ra's, stepping in the room behind the girl. "Talia is indeed my daughter. And she is most correct about this room. I find it difficult to focus elsewhere."
"Just what is it you need to focus on?"
Ra's quietly sat in a large chair in the center of the room.
"What is the real question you're asking?"
"...Who are you?"
"You seem to be somewhat of a boy detective. Guess. Guess what I am doing here."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. He didn't enjoy being tested.
"You're a treasure hunter. That or a cult leader. Or both."
Ra's grinned, then burst out laughing. Even Talia smirked a little.
"I suppose that would be a logical assumption on your part," Ra's admitted. "But no, I am neither of those things."
"Then what are you?"
"I am simply a man in search of knowledge. The temple in the mountains contains the most well-hidden knowledge in all the earth. For the sake of humanity, I must obtain it."
"For humanity?"
Ra's stood up and walked to one side of the room, where a large framed antique map hung on the wall.
"Have you seen the world, Bruce? Outside the comforts of your wealth and the safety of your country?"
"A bit."
"I have seen all of it. And I see chaos. Everywhere, mankind claws at its own throat. Free peoples, who have no reason to quarrel with one another, find such reason. Murder, war, famine, and destruction rage across the earth. And yet, for every ten civilizations in dire peril, one stands up as a shining example of glorious enlightenment. The advancement of civilization is what will save humanity from itself, Bruce, and I intend to guide it."
"Guide it how?"
Ra's paused and turned.
"I'm sure by now you've noticed. I am a man of rather large influence."
"Then why haven't I heard of you before?"
"I care not for the socialite systems of so-called high society. I have long directed my organization in secret, and I intend to remain doing so."
"What... is your organization, exactly? What do you do?"
"My organization is called the League of Shadows, so named because I prefer to do good works from the shadows rather than parade my deeds before the masses. Through various methods, I influence the direction of governments and their peoples."
"Toward 'advancement.'"
"Precisely."
"What 'methods' do you use?"
"A monetary donation here, a whisper in the ear of a young politician there."
"And you have a small military force... just because?"
"It becomes necessary at times to use force. There are few who know of me, but some who do consider me an enemy. My men are completely loyal to me and will defend my daughter and myself to their deaths."
"Why would they do that, exactly?"
"Because they believe in my cause, Bruce."
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"If you could truly see my father's vision," Talia said, "you would feel the same way."
"Is that so?"
"Bruce," Ra's said grimly. "I know what happened to your parents. That might never have happened had Gotham been safer. My vision for the world means that no young child will ever have to see his parents murdered."
Bruce felt anger boiling in his chest.
"Really? You think you can stop people from murdering one another?"
"Man turns to murder out of greed, fear, or desperation, Bruce. In a better world, those cancers will not exist."
Bruce stood up.
"If you're so enlightened, go back and stop my parents from being killed. Until you can do that, I don't give a damn about your 'dream.' Don't you dare speak their names to try and provoke me again."
Bruce heard a knock on his door. He opened it to see Talia.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I... wanted to talk."
Bruce searched her eyes. She seemed to be telling the truth. He let her inside and went back to folding his clothes.
Talia sat down on Bruce's bed. "I want you to know... I know how you feel."
"Do you?"
"Yes. My mother was killed when I was five."
Bruce paused for half a second. "How?"
"She was killed by nomadic tribesmen in the Sahara. They raided our camp one night in an attempt to kill my father."
Bruce stopped what he was doing and sat down.
"So that's why your father has this entire scheme planned out. He wants to create a world where his wife never would have died."
"He had his dream before that. The tribesmen were bribed by one of my father's enemies. But my mother's death bolstered his resolve, yes."
"...Can I ask you something?" said Bruce.
Talia smirked. "I think you just did."
"Do you believe in what your father's doing?"
"I..." Talia found it hard to finish her sentence. "I think my father is somewhat overzealous at times. I worry about him."
Bruce recognized that sentiment all too well.
"I know the feeling. My father, Thomas Wayne... he wanted to help people who desperately needed it. He used my family's company to improve life for the citizens of Gotham City."
Talia smiled. "Our fathers are not so different, I think."
Bruce sighed. "I hope you're right." But somehow I doubt it, he thought.
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