Can't stop.
The snow is so thick.
Can't stop.
It's up to my knees.
Can't stop.
Can't feel myself breathing.
Can't stop.
Deep in the Himalayas, on the side of a mountain, a man stood before a large round wooden door. Seven feet tall, dressed in thick furs and built like an ox, the man watched over the gateway with the eyes of a hawk, somehow able to see through the blinding snowfall.
The man saw someone, a boy, trudging through the snow. The boy reached the large man's feet and fell to his knees with exhaustion.
"What is your name?" the man said.
"Bruce Wayne," the boy answered weakly.
"Why have you come?"
"I seek Nanda Parbat."
The man lifted Bruce's head with his hand and stared into his eyes.
"...You traveled the frozen valley and climbed the mountain alone. You have earned the right. Enter."
The man grabbed hold of the giant circular door by its large handle and pulled it open. Bruce struggled to his feet and walked inside.
On the other side of the door, a tunnel carved in rock led to a clearing. As Bruce exited the tunnel, his mind fought what he was seeing. Somehow, an entire small city was here inside the mountains, hidden from the outside world. Although the sky was open, the snowy winds did not touch the grounds. Somehow, this entire area felt... warm. Even though there was snow on the ground nearby, Bruce couldn't feel any cold in the air. It was simply peaceful, nothing more and nothing less.
Bruce had seen the satellite images of this entire area before coming; this city wasn't on any map. Bruce wasn't even sure where he was, truthfully. He'd followed Boston Brand's directions precisely, making every turn along every path through the mountains, but a few of those turns contradicted actual maps of the area; Bruce had traveled along paths that apparently didn't exist as far as science was concerned.
As Bruce moved closer to the tiny city, he found that it was a monastery. He recognized its architecture: descended from ancient Chinese, similar to classical Kung Fu monasteries. There was one huge rectangular building in the center, with smaller ones arranged symmetrically around it. Fountains, streams, and carefully-trimmed plants were spread across the entire area. Bruce walked along a single stone path leading to the center building.
Without warning, a man dropped from the sky and silently landed in front of Bruce. Bruce jumped back, instinctively dropping into an Amazonian fighting stance. The man simply smiled gently, completely unfazed. He was bald, slim, Asian, and dressed in a bright orange monk's robe.
"This humble one apologizes," the monk said, "but you are a stranger to Nanda Parbat. Why have you come?"
Bruce relaxed. "I was told... that I could learn here."
The monk nodded. "Yes, that is true. What have you come to learn?"
"I seek the power to defeat my enemies."
The monk regarded this for a moment. "Those who seek power will inevitably fail. Those who seek to lessen themselves will find enlightenment."
Bruce wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Did that mean the monks were refusing to teach him?
"Follow me, please," the monk said, bowing before turning and walking toward the large building.
Bruce followed the monk into the building. It was a temple. Monks sat in rows along the walls, meditating in perfect silence. On the far wall stood a gigantic gold statue of Rama Kushna, the goddess of karma. A long red carpet led from the front door to the altar at the statue's feet. As Bruce walked toward the end of the room, he saw two men near the altar. One was clearly the master of the monks, with his long beard, ornate staff, and golden robe. Another man sat kneeling at the altar near the master's feet.
"Come," the master said, beckoning to Bruce. Bruce reached the altar and politely bowed to the master.
"Why have you come?" the master asked.
Bruce was tired of being asked that question three times in a row.
"I seek the power to avenge my parents' deaths."
"Vengeance will not balance the scales, young one," the master replied.
"It's not only vengeance; it's justice."
"Ah. Justice. Man's noble attempt to bring balance. But how can any man truly know whether he serves justice or vengeance?"
Bruce thought for a moment.
"I... I suppose that's what I need to learn."
The master smiled. "A wise answer. Sit, here." The master gestured towards the carpet next to the sitting man. "Meditate. Rest. Clear your mind. My monks will bring you to your room later."
Bruce sat on the carpet and did his best to act like he was relaxing. The master left.
Bruce turned and looked at the other man sitting next to him. He was vaguely caucasian, with a hint of middle-eastern features. His temples were graying, and his beard was very finely trimmed. As Bruce stared, the man's eyes snapped open and he turned to Bruce. Bruce nearly recoiled; the man's yes burned with a cold fire that was beyond unsettling.
"My name is Damian Ambrose," the man said, his voice elegant and his every word perfectly enunciated. "And you are?"
"Bruce."
"Just 'Bruce'?"
"My last name isn't important right now."
"I see."
Ambrose eyed Bruce. "I am curious... How exactly did you find this monastery?"
"How did you find it?"
Ambrose grinned. "A lifetime of searching, my boy. A long lifetime."
Ambrose looked to Bruce to return the explanation, but Bruce remained silent.
"Let me guess," Ambrose began. "You're American. Seventeen? Eighteen? By your speech and your clothing, I'd guess East coast, upper-class. I'd guess that you've met one of those people, and offered him a large sum of money in exchange for information on where to find this place. Am I close?"
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Not entirely."
Ambrose smiled. "Ah. Well. I've been here for two weeks as of today; my deduction skills may be a bit rusty."
"You've been here two weeks?"
"Yes. Thus far, the monks haven't taught me much besides how to breathe correctly."
"Great."
"In any case, it's nice to have another... 'stranger' here. What do you say the two of us stick together? Us strangers?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but I'd prefer to do things on my own."
"Oh, I'm sure you would, but trust me. I'm a valuable ally to have, especially in our current situation."
Bruce turned to Ambrose. "Are you expecting a fight here?"
Ambrose merely grinned and turned back to his meditation.
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