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DC: Dad Lore
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Chapter 01 - Stranger Things
Depth_
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2025
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- 1,125
Coming to this particular city was a bad idea, one that she knew from the very beginning, but she did anyway because she thought it would make for the perfect smokescreen. Spoiler alert: It didn't. Of course it didn't. What made her think otherwise?
The night was halfway through and while it was the most dangerous time of the day in the most dangerous city in the country, she calmly walked through the shades of the crumbling buildings. It was safe for her. Well not entirely, but that was the irony of her life.
She didn't just appear calm because she was truly calm. She couldn't risk being otherwise. The night was as dangerous for her, even more than for the average person, but it was also safe for her. It was the time she felt most at peace.
The inky shadows terrified her – on a few occasions – as much as it brought her comfort.
"I doubt I will catch the midnight train heading out of the city." She mused pessimistically to herself.
She would have used her magic to get away but that came with huge risks. She was already in deep trouble due to the honest mistake that happened less than 24 hours ago.
They hadn't wasted their time in combing every nook and cranny of the slums to fish her out, even possessing any manner of civilian they came across.
She had no choice but to leave if she wanted to keep her problems to herself. At this point it wasn't even a surprising occurrence.
She finally got to the train station but just like everything good in her life (which was pretty much nonexistent), she unsurprisingly missed it. She could hike a moving truck but she'd rather not. Chances were that the unfortunate driver would die before morning came.
"What I wouldn't give to teleport right now." Annnnd she couldn't. Why? Hmm, well other than the fact that she'd beacon her location to the stalking dregs, and it will also leave her mentally drained, there really wasn't much risk with it.
She should have gone straight to Metropolis like she initially thought but something about this dreary place drew her. She should have known better than to trust a stray thought.
If she could get to the outskirts then she might hitch a ride or risk teleporting to reduce the distance between her and Metropolis.
She was running out of options as she was of time. Either try to get Superman's attention in Metropolis or risk everything on the line, oh and by everything she meant this universe, and swing her way to the doors of the Halls of Justice in Washington DC. They will have to hear her out if they wanted the slightest chance of fighting against what was coming their way.
'Fight? No. If they want the slightest chance of survival.' She corrected inwardly.
She wasn't ignorant of her own role in this whole mess, as unwilling and formerly ignorant as she was,
Morbid thoughts flowed through her serene mind as her pace carried her with composure to the exit of this city.
Her cloak covered her just well enough in the biting cold and even if it didn't she doubted the freezing temperatures would put a dent in her fortitude. She survived worse than a simple winter cold.
She continued walking, heads down and hands tucked inside her cloak, and she was almost near one of the main roads when the streetlights started flickering and a certain chilling wind blew her way.
She heard the growls before she even saw them. Cursed things.
She knew she'd have to run the moment she saw the rising shadows. Perhaps risk teleporting away if she couldn't fight them off and lay low for as long as possible until they lost their tether to this world.
"He awaits…. No escape~" One of them snarled.
If she was so easily riled and disgusted then she might have retorted harshly but she lacked the mental capacity to do so. Instead her answer was a simple, "I refuse."
There. Easy and simple without risking her mental state to fear or anger.
"… Rebel!" One screeched and lunged at her.
"Hezbek… Zinthos… Azarath!" Dark energy fired from her hands and slammed the demon into the concrete.
The other three demons howled as they rushed towards her. They were probably cursing her in their native tongue or something similar, and she understood the sentiment. She'd probably curse herself too if she were in their shoes and if she had the luxury of being so emotionally intense.
The first demon to reach her, quite the eager one it was, was punched back by a column of earth. She jumped backwards, levitating for a few seconds before she grounded herself.
She squashed the small relief that almost budded when she realized that the cultists were not nearby. They would have made it a point to announce themselves with grating chants or a malicious magic circle. They sent the demons on a free hunt.
She blasted one of the demons, tearing off the left section of its torso but she knew it wouldn't be down for long.
The first demon had picked itself up, and she suspected it was a fan with the way it appeared more ecstatic than the rest as it barreled towards her with arms wide for a hug. Yup, definitely a fan. Too bad she was the shy type and didn't do well with the rambunctious sorts.
"Azarath.. Metrion.. Zinthos!" Her form flickered for a moment, dodging the overeager hug at the last second. Her throat was definitely parched and sweat was forming on her brows. Oh right, she still had to reply to this guy.
A pole was uprooted from the ground and slammed the head of the demon with the cemented end, killing it on the spot as it started dissolving immediately after, and falling on top of another.
"Azar— Hngh!" One of them snickered in mocking glee as its elongated nails left a long cut along her shoulders. She reflexively palmed it away with raw magic but the other one was upon her with renewed gusto.
Tongues with mouths full of sharp teeth sprouted from every part of the demon's appendage.
Of course the cultist won't send the same lower rung demons they sent the first three times.
From the corner of her eyes she saw the remaining two demons closing in on her, both having lost at least one part of their bodies.
'The cultists aren't here.' She thought in shaken calm. She could use this chance to teleport. They would be hard pressed to find her if she could make it to Metropolis in time.
The demons might sniff the trail for the cultists but it would take hours for them to find her. Sufficient time for her to hide herself, meditate and cool off her shaken mind.
Fighting off summoned demons for the fourth time while escaping the clutches of deranged demonic sorcerers all in the span of a day was extremely taxing for her. It spoke of her mental fortitude and practices that she still managed to retain a sliver of calm to this point.
She almost closed her eyes in reflex as she released the spell to let the portal take her only for them to widen slightly, just the tiniest bit, which in her strained mind was the equivalent of shocking surprise, as a hand wrapped around the demon's head, the one closest to her, and dragged it backwards against a heavy shoulder with a sickening crunch.
The slight surprise from the sudden turn of events was enough to break her thread-thin concentration and canceled the portal before it could even form. The realization of which formed a pit in her stomach.
She was already at the edge. Any further and she'd lose her last bit of control. The cultists wouldn't even have to do anything by then since she would have pretty much done everything herself. To sum it up, her losing control at this point was her basically gifting out the supernatural bounty reward on her own head to the very same thing that put it there—.
"SCREEEEEEE!!" Her thoughts were interrupted by the grating screech of the second demon dying to a stapler that ripped out its throat…?
"…. Huh?" Her mind turned slow and heavy. Did she see right or was the stress that great? A f….. Calm down girl. In and out.
A stapler of all things used to kill a demon?
She could hardly continue her train of thought when the last demon rushed at the unknown man, its nails long and curved like— the man sidestepped the stab but clipped one of the nails with his stapler as he did and broke it off while still in a turning motion, grabbed the nail with his other hand and stabbed the demon from the back of its head.
A sickening squelch followed the puncture and then a dull thud as the body fell to the ground and started decomposing at a visible speed.
Raven swallowed, panic and her wild emotions almost forcing her into a run when the man turned to face her. And that was when she got a good look at him.
A tall fat man with white hair tied to a small knot on the back. He wore large round glasses that covered his entire eye socket and had a small chop cut mustache. In a brown tee and fading blue jeans. All in all he was just a fat old man.
'And yet…' This very fat old man killed three demons in less than five seconds, with less effort than she would need. And she was the one with magic.
"Uh… I… Who are you?" She stuttered.
It probably would have helped her more if she said a simple 'thank you' first before questioning the stranger, but she digressed. Her mind was going down the bend and it was a steep travel.
She couldn't allow herself to relax and fail to react fast enough if he tried attacking her.
'I can still squeeze open a portal. A bit risky but I have no choice.' She thought as she readied herself to flee at the first hostile movement he made.
As for why she was hesitating this much, which obviously had something to do with the man in front of her, was because he was muted. Not vocally, since he hasn't spoken a word yet, but empathetically.
His surface thoughts were not broadcasted like everyone else that she had met. It was like an opaque glass. Too muddled for her to get any solid detail.
The man stared at her for an unnerving second and looked at the busted stapler in his hands before sighing dejectedly. At least that was what she thought it felt like.
"Can you understand me?" After getting some of her bearings back, she asked slowly.
He nodded at her and held up a hand before she could ask another question and walked a bit off to the side to pick up a plastic bag where he carefully put the busted stapler.
He looked over his shoulders and gestured for her to come but she remained rooted to the ground, mentally giving both herself and him ten seconds to give her a reply before she conjured the portal and leave behind this dreary city.
He clearly saw her hesitating and somehow knew she wouldn't budge because she felt the familiar empathic resonance from him before his words came.
"I am not going to hurt you." He said softly, almost like a clear whisper.
"You still haven't answered my question. Who are you?" She asked again, this time with more steel in her voice. Well, at least as much as she was able to use without keeling over.
"Nobody important." He replied again, in the same slow but even tone. "Just an old man coming from a birthday."
He raised the bag to where the available lights to illuminate it. She could see the birthday design printed on the bag. Whistles, hats, cake and confetti.
He gestured for her to come closer and this time she did, albeit very slowly but he seemed to have enough patience for her to go along on her own flow.
She kept contemplating as she took every slow and dragged out step towards him, keeping her escape card in the tip of her hands.
She finally got to him, the small wave of care and vague honesty coming from him making her postpone her decision. Someone caring for her so openly like this was a new one.
The demons, the acolytes and everyone in their ilk never bothered for that. Even those that took care of her during her childhood and taught her had a veil of wariness around them in regards to her. Well, what was tethered to her more specifically.
He brought out a fresh handkerchief from his bag and took deliberate slow action until he was dabbing up the wound in her arm. She could heal, but she didn't tell him that.
He cleaned it up quick and neat and tied another handkerchief around it before giving himself a pleased nod.
He turned around and started walking away while she just stood there unsure of what to do, that was until he stopped to look at her still standing still and beckoned her to follow.
"It's too late to be walking on the outskirts, wounded, tired and hungry." His voice was too faint to be so easily heard. "You can leave in the morning if you want. I'll drive."
She was still stuck in the motions when she absentmindedly gave him a nod and took a subconscious first step.
She gritted her teeth and followed through with the second step, and then the third. Then there was a fourth, and before she knew it she was walking half a step behind him while he slowed down his pace to match hers.
'Still nothing?' She was a bit baffled. She was so close to him, well within his reach, and yet he just continued walking nonchalantly.
The walk was quiet but it rattled her nerves in a way that made her jumpy, which was a first. She enjoyed the silence, preferred it even, even hoping that others would learn to appreciate it more and maybe learn how to keep their thoughts and emotions private while they were at it, but this one felt prickly.
"You have a car?" She said the first thing that formed in her head. She was never one for conversation but the discomfort she felt needed a distraction.
He hummed.
"Then why are you walking in the middle of the night when you could drive?" She asked with a hint of suspicion.
The old man's shoulders slumped and for a second it seemed as if life left him. Somehow she could tell why he was making that face and feeling like that. His emotions weren't still clear but she could get the general gist of things.
"You didn't expect to be out this late?" She asked tentatively.
He nodded his head dejectedly. "End at 9pm they said." This time she was sure he muttered to himself even though she still heard him.
She kept her eyes peeled and her mind sharp as she followed the strange old fat man.
They were able to catch a train ride just on time, a feat attributed to no luck of hers, and after another thirty minutes of walking they arrived at a small building with a conjoined store in front of it and a van parked neatly on the side.
So he wasn't lying about the car. She did not put much hope on it but she would be the tiniest bit glad if he stood by his offer and gave her a ride out of the city.
The house had a warm feel to it and even the colors of the couch and the paint felt soft.
He led her upstairs to an empty room that had only a small bed with an empty closet. There was hardly any dust in the room which meant he regularly kept it clean or maybe his wife did. Only she didn't see any pictures on the wall in the living room.
"Shower. I will make tea." He pointed at the adjacent bathroom and left. He was a man of few words, a sentiment she understood so she wasn't too wary of the silent man.
She still had her doubts and caution. She loosened the cloak as well as the small bag she carried which contained only a pair set of clothing.
Hot water felt so nice after so long but unfortunately/fortunately she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it, or any small comfort for that matter.
She stepped out of the bath with her breath feeling fuller and found a pair of oversized shirts and tracksuit pants.
She left the room feeling refreshed and calmheaded for once, something that did not involve her meditating for hours, and also something that she couldn't enjoy. She of all people knew the dangers of comfort, except in her case it was more existential and on a far grander/apocalyptic scale.
"Tea." Her control over her emotions stopped her from flinching and throwing a hex on reflex since she didn't sense him at all until he spoke.
The tea was oddly soothing and the rice and stew really helped with her hunger. For once she didn't need to steal to eat.
She couldn't tell given how neutral his face looked and how calm and paced he acted but she felt he felt pleased when he saw her finishing the food and enjoying the tea.
She still couldn't get anything from his head except only the occasional waves of vague feelings.
"… Thank you." She said softly, after a while of finishing the food, to which he gave a simple nod. Once again his mind did not give a hint to what he felt. If he could tell that her injuries and bruises were gone then he said nothing about it.
"I… I.."
He shook his head and thumbed at her room.
"Sleep. Tomorrow."
The night was halfway through and while it was the most dangerous time of the day in the most dangerous city in the country, she calmly walked through the shades of the crumbling buildings. It was safe for her. Well not entirely, but that was the irony of her life.
She didn't just appear calm because she was truly calm. She couldn't risk being otherwise. The night was as dangerous for her, even more than for the average person, but it was also safe for her. It was the time she felt most at peace.
The inky shadows terrified her – on a few occasions – as much as it brought her comfort.
"I doubt I will catch the midnight train heading out of the city." She mused pessimistically to herself.
She would have used her magic to get away but that came with huge risks. She was already in deep trouble due to the honest mistake that happened less than 24 hours ago.
They hadn't wasted their time in combing every nook and cranny of the slums to fish her out, even possessing any manner of civilian they came across.
She had no choice but to leave if she wanted to keep her problems to herself. At this point it wasn't even a surprising occurrence.
She finally got to the train station but just like everything good in her life (which was pretty much nonexistent), she unsurprisingly missed it. She could hike a moving truck but she'd rather not. Chances were that the unfortunate driver would die before morning came.
"What I wouldn't give to teleport right now." Annnnd she couldn't. Why? Hmm, well other than the fact that she'd beacon her location to the stalking dregs, and it will also leave her mentally drained, there really wasn't much risk with it.
She should have gone straight to Metropolis like she initially thought but something about this dreary place drew her. She should have known better than to trust a stray thought.
If she could get to the outskirts then she might hitch a ride or risk teleporting to reduce the distance between her and Metropolis.
She was running out of options as she was of time. Either try to get Superman's attention in Metropolis or risk everything on the line, oh and by everything she meant this universe, and swing her way to the doors of the Halls of Justice in Washington DC. They will have to hear her out if they wanted the slightest chance of fighting against what was coming their way.
'Fight? No. If they want the slightest chance of survival.' She corrected inwardly.
She wasn't ignorant of her own role in this whole mess, as unwilling and formerly ignorant as she was,
Morbid thoughts flowed through her serene mind as her pace carried her with composure to the exit of this city.
Her cloak covered her just well enough in the biting cold and even if it didn't she doubted the freezing temperatures would put a dent in her fortitude. She survived worse than a simple winter cold.
She continued walking, heads down and hands tucked inside her cloak, and she was almost near one of the main roads when the streetlights started flickering and a certain chilling wind blew her way.
She heard the growls before she even saw them. Cursed things.
She knew she'd have to run the moment she saw the rising shadows. Perhaps risk teleporting away if she couldn't fight them off and lay low for as long as possible until they lost their tether to this world.
"He awaits…. No escape~" One of them snarled.
If she was so easily riled and disgusted then she might have retorted harshly but she lacked the mental capacity to do so. Instead her answer was a simple, "I refuse."
There. Easy and simple without risking her mental state to fear or anger.
"… Rebel!" One screeched and lunged at her.
"Hezbek… Zinthos… Azarath!" Dark energy fired from her hands and slammed the demon into the concrete.
The other three demons howled as they rushed towards her. They were probably cursing her in their native tongue or something similar, and she understood the sentiment. She'd probably curse herself too if she were in their shoes and if she had the luxury of being so emotionally intense.
The first demon to reach her, quite the eager one it was, was punched back by a column of earth. She jumped backwards, levitating for a few seconds before she grounded herself.
She squashed the small relief that almost budded when she realized that the cultists were not nearby. They would have made it a point to announce themselves with grating chants or a malicious magic circle. They sent the demons on a free hunt.
She blasted one of the demons, tearing off the left section of its torso but she knew it wouldn't be down for long.
The first demon had picked itself up, and she suspected it was a fan with the way it appeared more ecstatic than the rest as it barreled towards her with arms wide for a hug. Yup, definitely a fan. Too bad she was the shy type and didn't do well with the rambunctious sorts.
"Azarath.. Metrion.. Zinthos!" Her form flickered for a moment, dodging the overeager hug at the last second. Her throat was definitely parched and sweat was forming on her brows. Oh right, she still had to reply to this guy.
A pole was uprooted from the ground and slammed the head of the demon with the cemented end, killing it on the spot as it started dissolving immediately after, and falling on top of another.
"Azar— Hngh!" One of them snickered in mocking glee as its elongated nails left a long cut along her shoulders. She reflexively palmed it away with raw magic but the other one was upon her with renewed gusto.
Tongues with mouths full of sharp teeth sprouted from every part of the demon's appendage.
Of course the cultist won't send the same lower rung demons they sent the first three times.
From the corner of her eyes she saw the remaining two demons closing in on her, both having lost at least one part of their bodies.
'The cultists aren't here.' She thought in shaken calm. She could use this chance to teleport. They would be hard pressed to find her if she could make it to Metropolis in time.
The demons might sniff the trail for the cultists but it would take hours for them to find her. Sufficient time for her to hide herself, meditate and cool off her shaken mind.
Fighting off summoned demons for the fourth time while escaping the clutches of deranged demonic sorcerers all in the span of a day was extremely taxing for her. It spoke of her mental fortitude and practices that she still managed to retain a sliver of calm to this point.
She almost closed her eyes in reflex as she released the spell to let the portal take her only for them to widen slightly, just the tiniest bit, which in her strained mind was the equivalent of shocking surprise, as a hand wrapped around the demon's head, the one closest to her, and dragged it backwards against a heavy shoulder with a sickening crunch.
The slight surprise from the sudden turn of events was enough to break her thread-thin concentration and canceled the portal before it could even form. The realization of which formed a pit in her stomach.
She was already at the edge. Any further and she'd lose her last bit of control. The cultists wouldn't even have to do anything by then since she would have pretty much done everything herself. To sum it up, her losing control at this point was her basically gifting out the supernatural bounty reward on her own head to the very same thing that put it there—.
"SCREEEEEEE!!" Her thoughts were interrupted by the grating screech of the second demon dying to a stapler that ripped out its throat…?
"…. Huh?" Her mind turned slow and heavy. Did she see right or was the stress that great? A f….. Calm down girl. In and out.
A stapler of all things used to kill a demon?
She could hardly continue her train of thought when the last demon rushed at the unknown man, its nails long and curved like— the man sidestepped the stab but clipped one of the nails with his stapler as he did and broke it off while still in a turning motion, grabbed the nail with his other hand and stabbed the demon from the back of its head.
A sickening squelch followed the puncture and then a dull thud as the body fell to the ground and started decomposing at a visible speed.
Raven swallowed, panic and her wild emotions almost forcing her into a run when the man turned to face her. And that was when she got a good look at him.
A tall fat man with white hair tied to a small knot on the back. He wore large round glasses that covered his entire eye socket and had a small chop cut mustache. In a brown tee and fading blue jeans. All in all he was just a fat old man.
'And yet…' This very fat old man killed three demons in less than five seconds, with less effort than she would need. And she was the one with magic.
"Uh… I… Who are you?" She stuttered.
It probably would have helped her more if she said a simple 'thank you' first before questioning the stranger, but she digressed. Her mind was going down the bend and it was a steep travel.
She couldn't allow herself to relax and fail to react fast enough if he tried attacking her.
'I can still squeeze open a portal. A bit risky but I have no choice.' She thought as she readied herself to flee at the first hostile movement he made.
As for why she was hesitating this much, which obviously had something to do with the man in front of her, was because he was muted. Not vocally, since he hasn't spoken a word yet, but empathetically.
His surface thoughts were not broadcasted like everyone else that she had met. It was like an opaque glass. Too muddled for her to get any solid detail.
The man stared at her for an unnerving second and looked at the busted stapler in his hands before sighing dejectedly. At least that was what she thought it felt like.
"Can you understand me?" After getting some of her bearings back, she asked slowly.
He nodded at her and held up a hand before she could ask another question and walked a bit off to the side to pick up a plastic bag where he carefully put the busted stapler.
He looked over his shoulders and gestured for her to come but she remained rooted to the ground, mentally giving both herself and him ten seconds to give her a reply before she conjured the portal and leave behind this dreary city.
He clearly saw her hesitating and somehow knew she wouldn't budge because she felt the familiar empathic resonance from him before his words came.
"I am not going to hurt you." He said softly, almost like a clear whisper.
"You still haven't answered my question. Who are you?" She asked again, this time with more steel in her voice. Well, at least as much as she was able to use without keeling over.
"Nobody important." He replied again, in the same slow but even tone. "Just an old man coming from a birthday."
He raised the bag to where the available lights to illuminate it. She could see the birthday design printed on the bag. Whistles, hats, cake and confetti.
He gestured for her to come closer and this time she did, albeit very slowly but he seemed to have enough patience for her to go along on her own flow.
She kept contemplating as she took every slow and dragged out step towards him, keeping her escape card in the tip of her hands.
She finally got to him, the small wave of care and vague honesty coming from him making her postpone her decision. Someone caring for her so openly like this was a new one.
The demons, the acolytes and everyone in their ilk never bothered for that. Even those that took care of her during her childhood and taught her had a veil of wariness around them in regards to her. Well, what was tethered to her more specifically.
He brought out a fresh handkerchief from his bag and took deliberate slow action until he was dabbing up the wound in her arm. She could heal, but she didn't tell him that.
He cleaned it up quick and neat and tied another handkerchief around it before giving himself a pleased nod.
He turned around and started walking away while she just stood there unsure of what to do, that was until he stopped to look at her still standing still and beckoned her to follow.
"It's too late to be walking on the outskirts, wounded, tired and hungry." His voice was too faint to be so easily heard. "You can leave in the morning if you want. I'll drive."
She was still stuck in the motions when she absentmindedly gave him a nod and took a subconscious first step.
She gritted her teeth and followed through with the second step, and then the third. Then there was a fourth, and before she knew it she was walking half a step behind him while he slowed down his pace to match hers.
'Still nothing?' She was a bit baffled. She was so close to him, well within his reach, and yet he just continued walking nonchalantly.
The walk was quiet but it rattled her nerves in a way that made her jumpy, which was a first. She enjoyed the silence, preferred it even, even hoping that others would learn to appreciate it more and maybe learn how to keep their thoughts and emotions private while they were at it, but this one felt prickly.
"You have a car?" She said the first thing that formed in her head. She was never one for conversation but the discomfort she felt needed a distraction.
He hummed.
"Then why are you walking in the middle of the night when you could drive?" She asked with a hint of suspicion.
The old man's shoulders slumped and for a second it seemed as if life left him. Somehow she could tell why he was making that face and feeling like that. His emotions weren't still clear but she could get the general gist of things.
"You didn't expect to be out this late?" She asked tentatively.
He nodded his head dejectedly. "End at 9pm they said." This time she was sure he muttered to himself even though she still heard him.
She kept her eyes peeled and her mind sharp as she followed the strange old fat man.
They were able to catch a train ride just on time, a feat attributed to no luck of hers, and after another thirty minutes of walking they arrived at a small building with a conjoined store in front of it and a van parked neatly on the side.
So he wasn't lying about the car. She did not put much hope on it but she would be the tiniest bit glad if he stood by his offer and gave her a ride out of the city.
The house had a warm feel to it and even the colors of the couch and the paint felt soft.
He led her upstairs to an empty room that had only a small bed with an empty closet. There was hardly any dust in the room which meant he regularly kept it clean or maybe his wife did. Only she didn't see any pictures on the wall in the living room.
"Shower. I will make tea." He pointed at the adjacent bathroom and left. He was a man of few words, a sentiment she understood so she wasn't too wary of the silent man.
She still had her doubts and caution. She loosened the cloak as well as the small bag she carried which contained only a pair set of clothing.
Hot water felt so nice after so long but unfortunately/fortunately she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it, or any small comfort for that matter.
She stepped out of the bath with her breath feeling fuller and found a pair of oversized shirts and tracksuit pants.
She left the room feeling refreshed and calmheaded for once, something that did not involve her meditating for hours, and also something that she couldn't enjoy. She of all people knew the dangers of comfort, except in her case it was more existential and on a far grander/apocalyptic scale.
"Tea." Her control over her emotions stopped her from flinching and throwing a hex on reflex since she didn't sense him at all until he spoke.
The tea was oddly soothing and the rice and stew really helped with her hunger. For once she didn't need to steal to eat.
She couldn't tell given how neutral his face looked and how calm and paced he acted but she felt he felt pleased when he saw her finishing the food and enjoying the tea.
She still couldn't get anything from his head except only the occasional waves of vague feelings.
"… Thank you." She said softly, after a while of finishing the food, to which he gave a simple nod. Once again his mind did not give a hint to what he felt. If he could tell that her injuries and bruises were gone then he said nothing about it.
"I… I.."
He shook his head and thumbed at her room.
"Sleep. Tomorrow."
Akuma-Heika
The Devil Exists Within
- Joined
- Nov 7, 2016
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- 32,240
...but she was willing to get on a train that would have a lot more people on it, and would be slower than the truck...
Chapter 02 - A Lost Child
Depth_
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2025
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- 1,125
She woke up with a startled gasp, her hands setting up a motion under the blankets before she stopped herself and took stock of her surroundings.
She was in a little room, a well ventilated one, with how big the windows were, and sleeping on a soft bed and a snuggly pillow.
She let out a deprecating sigh. "So comfort equals nightmare. Of course, why wouldn't it?"
The fact that she had woken up in a slight panic due to feeling too comfortable, even in her dream state, said a lot about how her life so far had been and how steep her expectations were.
"Right. I saw a man kill three demons with a stapler and followed him home." She would have laughed if she actually reciprocated with humorous thoughts.
A look at the sun's position outside her window showed that it was barely past 9am, which means she slept for almost eight hours. Fours hours late from her usual rising time.
Her thoughts went to the demons from last night and her naturally pessimistic thought whispered that the kind-yet-suspicious man was probably dead in his room with his blood writing a warning on his walls and mirrors.
Her empathetic senses covered the entire house in reflex, searching for his mind or the familiar feeling of an opaque wall—
Soda.
That was the bare thought she picked up from inside the kitchen.
She sighed in relief. He was alive. At least for now. It would suck major if the one peaceful night she's had in the last year was marred with a battered corpse.
She took a few minutes to meditate and get her mind in the right frame to start the day. She pushed the bulk of the rampant morbid thoughts to the darkest part of her mind, washed her face and finally went down to confront whatever awaited her for the day.
……
She found him in the kitchen idly flipping pancakes with one hand as he sipped slowly from the drink he had in his mouth.
"Um…. Good morning." She greeted softly from behind, making him pause his routine motion in order to look at her, before giving her a nod, one that felt satisfied from what she picked up.
"Morning." There was the even tone to his voice that almost made it sound like background noise if you weren't listening. "Juice?" He pointed at the fridge.
"Uh… um thank you." She replied uncertainly, not knowing how to react to his kind offers. She wanted to refuse and go for the polite reply of preferring water but her voice stuttered out under a stare that she couldn't make anything of.
Her heartbeat was steady as were her steps slow and counted as she walked over to the fridge, not knowing what to expect from opening it.
Her experiences with fridges weren't exactly the best. Demonic influences had a way of taking normalcy from the most basic of things.
She went for the safer choice of orange. Honestly she just picked the one closest to her hands, not especially caring about which one was better between orange, watermelon and apple. She could only thank her small graces that the spontaneous mocking visions of a severed demon's head didn't lunge at her upon opening the fridge.
"Watermelon better." Her head whipped around to see him behind her holding up two plates of pancakes before walking out to the dining room.
"How does he do that?" She whispered to herself with barely suppressed curiosity. He had a way of seamlessly slipping through her senses at times.
She watches as he deftly spun two cans of whipped cream and chocolate syrup between his fingers before drizzling them graciously across the plates.
He seemed to be having fun with such simple actions, was what her sense told her.
"I–" She started only to be cut short.
Eat first. Questions later. His finger pointing at her plate seemed to say.
She couldn't exactly complain when she was grateful for the breakfast, and also was planning to ask him for his help to get to Metropolis… or Washington DC if the former didn't work out.
He seemed content seeing her eat with barely restrained gusto and even refilled her empty glass without her knowing… until the fourth time he did so when she finished with her plate.
"Thank you. I really mean it." Her voice was even and once more she hated her curse that made it a risk to even properly express her gratitude.
"Mm."
She stood by the door watching him clean the kitchen, one of her arms nervously rubbing against the other.
"…" She wanted to speak but held herself back, unsure of what type of consequences may arise from it. But she felt this much was the least she could do with the unexpected care she was receiving.
"R… Raven. My name is Raven." She managed to say in an even tone, ignoring the initial stutter.
The pudgy man stood in the most bland posture she ever saw anyone stand in with a small towel hanging off his shoulders.
It was the slight ruffling of his mustache that revealed he spoke something, but her ears caught it nonetheless.
"Taro." He replied and paused, seemingly contemplating something before adding. "Or old man. Either is fine."
It seemed rude to simply call him old man so she settled for Taro. He didn't seem to mind either way.
Seeing that they finally got the basic introduction out of the way, only after eight hours but details, she couldn't help but finally ask the most curious question that remained stuck in her head since the previous night, especially as she took in the unflattering physique of the slightly obese man.
"Taro," She tried cautious, only continuing when she saw no negative reaction, "How did you do it last night?"
His head tilted in confusion, making her wonder if he was playing dumb. Regardless, she pressed on.
"Those demons," she started, watching his reaction intently as she did, "you did not look surprised by their existence. Have you seen them before?"
She had to know. She didn't know how long he was there but she was sure he definitely saw her use magic. Not that the upturned road was any subtle either.
The fact that he looked experienced against the demonic ilk and even took her in threatened to bloom the tiniest bud of hope in her.
Was he similar to the people of Azarath? It seemed too good to be true but it wouldn't hurt to ask. She wasn't in a position to refuse an helper of any kind.
He tapped his chin, or rather the mass of flesh he had for one - not that she was judging or anything, just pointing out what she saw - before shrugging with a slow shake of his head.
It wasn't an outright no. A maybe, perhaps?
Her brows creased. "Then how did you kill them so easily? And why did you take me in so readily?"
"You were in danger." He simply said. Well there was no way he knew she had been preparing to portal out of there so he wasn't lying.
But that left her with more questions.
"So what are you? If you don't mind me asking." She asked. She needed any header she could get. "Are you a sorcerer? A warlock? Or like those enhanced people, erm, metahumans?"
Once again he shook his head. "Human."
She might be late in realizing this but Taro was one for fewer words than she was.
She clearly didn't believe he was just human. There was something else there. Average humans don't just stumble on a group of demons and kill them with a stapler in less than 10 seconds.
'And there is also his mental barriers.' She knew a few warriors just like him, back when all she had was childish dreams when she slept. Disciplined and trained in not just magic, but in body and mind.
She bit her lips, weighing her options as she followed Taro to his shop through a door adjacent to the garage.
She asked a few questions here and there as he did a quick check on his mini-minimart before flipping the sign to start the day.
Raven finally came to a decision, one that posed certain risks as well as doubtful rewards. She raised her hand towards a magazine Taro was reaching for and lifted it across the counter to his hands.
'No flinch or surprise. So he knows. He's that used to magic. It might explain his mental barriers.' She theorized, deflating a bit as all he did was throw her a thumbs up and plopped into his seat.
Since he seemed cavalier about everything so far, Raven decided to inch a bit further.
"How are you guarding your mind and emotions? I can barely feel anything from you even when I'm standing right in front of you." She was blunt and direct. He seemed to think nothing special of helping her out, even going an extra length to accommodate her as much as he could.
She saw him dropping the magazine just below his glasses to look at her so she continued. "I'm an empath."
To her knowledge, empaths weren't the most accepted bunch due to their lacking sense of privacy. She risked that revelation and yet he seemed unperturbed.
She didn't know what he was thinking or felt on the inside, but his surface vibe remained casual.
"Can you help me? Constant meditation and a mantra is all I have." She pleaded with a hint of desperation in her voice.
Just because the morning has been pleasant so far didn't mean she forgot why she was traveling in the first place.
Taro dropped his magazine to give her a straight blank look before abruptly standing up and went to a small old drawer and pulled out a book that he tossed at her.
She caught it, taken aback for a bit, looked at the title of the book and leveled him her pending deadpan glare.
"'Mastering Stoicism: The Path to a Calm and Unshaken Mind'." As she read out the title, her voice dropped lower and lower until it was just a bland and frigid sound. "Are you joking?" It was a genuinely curious question. And she hoped he was.
He nodded. A wave of confidence flowed from him. "Gives good poker face."
"I have a good poker face."
"… Gives good poker mind?"
At this point she didn't know if he was having fun at her expense or he was being genuine in his own way.
Just then the bell rang as the door was pushed open to welcome their first customer. A child.
"Morning, Uncle T. Mama said I fell asleep at Ted's party so I missed the closing games." The boy walked through the aisle with an air of familiarity, grabbed a few things off the shelves, returned to Taro who gave him a small sealed package for his mother before he bolted out the door.
"See ya later, Uncle T."
Raven idly watched the whole interaction as her eyes skimmed through the book's first few pages before putting it down, not at all surprised by how useless it was.
Since there was nothing to do, she used the time between customers to organize her thoughts and temper her mind as she prepared for the inevitable departure.
More than ever, the Justice League needed to know what was coming. It was the worst case scenario and yet it only felt inevitable to her. But this time, she'd rather die than let a repeat of Azarath happen here.
Question.
"Hmm?" She raised her head to look at the old man at the counter who was staring straight at her. It was the first strong impression she got from his mind and it was so clear that she might have just heard his voice.
"You want to ask me a question?" She asked, gaining a nod in reply.
"Where to?"
"Metropolis, or Washington." The reply came out natural and she could guess the next question in line. In a way it almost felt like a textbook cutout.
"Why?"
"Doom, Armageddon, Apocalypse. Take your pick." She said evenly, not fully able to hide the sliver of fear as a certain memory flashed across her mind. She didn't doubt he saw it too.
"And the demons?" He asked, mulling over her last words with a casual posture. Either he didn't believe her or didn't believe the scale of her words, she thought bitterly.
Still she answered. "Sent by the followers of an eldritch dimensional evil warlord god to kidnap me for a ritual that will let him come to earth and conquer the planet along with the universe."
It couldn't get more literal than that.
She decided to ask a question of her own before he got the next one in. "How much do you know about demons and the dimension they reside?"
A shake of his head. So nothing huh? She didn't want to think about if he was lying to her. He accommodated her to the fullness of his abilities. That was more than she could ask for.
"Raven." He spoke, it was his first time saying her name. "You alone?"
Ah. So he knew, or suspected. She didn't try to make a call to anyone even after almost dying. It wasn't hard to come to that conclusion.
"They are all gone." She answered. Even to this moment she didn't know whose fault it was. Hers for losing control, or him for wanting her under his control. Whoever the blame laid with, it didn't change the fact that Azarath was gone. Her only home was gone.
She had been looking at the floor when she replied, half drowning in her memory pit and half reigning her emotions to a base.
When she raised her head she saw Taro's towering form in front of her and before she could berate herself for losing sight of his movement, her thoughts froze when he simply wrapped his huge chubby arms around her and pulled her into his embrace.
It was a soothing hug. He was so soft and embracing that even the snuggly pillows he gave her couldn't compare. Well, it was probably because of all the extra mounds of flesh.
Her thoughts slowly came back when she felt him patting her soothingly on the back.
And in that moment, the young child, Raven, never hated her inability to express her emotions as she did in that instance. She couldn't even freely hate the one that put her through all this. She couldn't loathe him from the depths of her soul, because she literally couldn't and she was sure that if she actually could he'd laugh with sickening malice and even encourage her to hate him more.
And that was the tamest vile thing she could think about her father.
When they separated, she almost felt hurt at the poker face she wore as they looked at each other with his hands on her shoulders.
He ruffled her hair and she let him do it because she was fighting the simmering boil in her guts.
"You are not leaving today." He suddenly said, snapping her out of her daze.
She frowned. "Why?"
He looked at her, really looked at her, and gave her his direct blunt words.
"You are a wreck."
She was not surprised by that. She would acknowledge that she was like pieces of a broken mirror blindly glued together to form the façade of being whole.
But Taro didn't stop there. He wanted her to know how close she was to the edge, even if she couldn't tell.
"You are unstable. You are lost. You are desperate." He said unhurriedly, articulating every word so she could see the reasons why.
"You are tying a noose around your neck with the same thread you are hanging on."
She blinked. She understood what he was saying. She knew she was running on fumes and desperation, but she had no choice but to thread on. Only she knew the result if she didn't. She had seen it once, and once was enough.
"Taro…. I don't have a choice. Everything will be meaningless if he finds a way to this dimension." Her voice was so frail like a leaf in the wind that it might as well be a whisper.
Taro looked at her, and while she could finally understand his general feelings on the subject, she had no idea what was going on in his mind.
"How long?" He asked but she shook her head.
"It's not a fixed calendar thing. He will keep trying every now and then to step through. This is just his latest attempt."
He tilted his head in a thoughtful way, a comical look Raven thought, and suddenly exhaled heavily through his nose like a bull and grabbed onto his other hand as he flexed his muscle. Or at least that was the intention behind the gesture.
She was staying until she was no longer a suicidal wreck, his aura told her as much.
"You will rest for now." His voice was back to their fading whisper volume.
What is preventing him from appearing right now?
She sensed the next question he was going to ask and bit her inner lips, unsure of how to answer. As well-meaning as Taro has been so far, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him, who was basically a stranger to her - her benefactor yes, but still a stranger -, what was currently restricting the Devil of Worlds and inadvertently giving him an idea on how to easily release him.
She couldn't tell anyone this except for the Justice League. They were the heroes, earth's strongest, who would rally to fight her father if he ever crossed over.
She looked at him and knew he understood the difficulty she was feeling and yet he remained looking at her silently. Not pressuring, she realized, but just waiting for her decision. All this screamed suspicion and backstabbing.
"You will be in danger if you know. Not just you, but everyone you know as well." She said, trying to dissuade his interest and make him realize the danger he was ignorantly prodding. "That kid this morning, his mother, and everyone from the birthday party – he'll make sure to kill them the first chance he gets."
For a brief moment, Raven thought she saw something, a sharp edge, gleaming off his glasses.
She was in a little room, a well ventilated one, with how big the windows were, and sleeping on a soft bed and a snuggly pillow.
She let out a deprecating sigh. "So comfort equals nightmare. Of course, why wouldn't it?"
The fact that she had woken up in a slight panic due to feeling too comfortable, even in her dream state, said a lot about how her life so far had been and how steep her expectations were.
"Right. I saw a man kill three demons with a stapler and followed him home." She would have laughed if she actually reciprocated with humorous thoughts.
A look at the sun's position outside her window showed that it was barely past 9am, which means she slept for almost eight hours. Fours hours late from her usual rising time.
Her thoughts went to the demons from last night and her naturally pessimistic thought whispered that the kind-yet-suspicious man was probably dead in his room with his blood writing a warning on his walls and mirrors.
Her empathetic senses covered the entire house in reflex, searching for his mind or the familiar feeling of an opaque wall—
Soda.
That was the bare thought she picked up from inside the kitchen.
She sighed in relief. He was alive. At least for now. It would suck major if the one peaceful night she's had in the last year was marred with a battered corpse.
She took a few minutes to meditate and get her mind in the right frame to start the day. She pushed the bulk of the rampant morbid thoughts to the darkest part of her mind, washed her face and finally went down to confront whatever awaited her for the day.
……
She found him in the kitchen idly flipping pancakes with one hand as he sipped slowly from the drink he had in his mouth.
"Um…. Good morning." She greeted softly from behind, making him pause his routine motion in order to look at her, before giving her a nod, one that felt satisfied from what she picked up.
"Morning." There was the even tone to his voice that almost made it sound like background noise if you weren't listening. "Juice?" He pointed at the fridge.
"Uh… um thank you." She replied uncertainly, not knowing how to react to his kind offers. She wanted to refuse and go for the polite reply of preferring water but her voice stuttered out under a stare that she couldn't make anything of.
Her heartbeat was steady as were her steps slow and counted as she walked over to the fridge, not knowing what to expect from opening it.
Her experiences with fridges weren't exactly the best. Demonic influences had a way of taking normalcy from the most basic of things.
She went for the safer choice of orange. Honestly she just picked the one closest to her hands, not especially caring about which one was better between orange, watermelon and apple. She could only thank her small graces that the spontaneous mocking visions of a severed demon's head didn't lunge at her upon opening the fridge.
"Watermelon better." Her head whipped around to see him behind her holding up two plates of pancakes before walking out to the dining room.
"How does he do that?" She whispered to herself with barely suppressed curiosity. He had a way of seamlessly slipping through her senses at times.
She watches as he deftly spun two cans of whipped cream and chocolate syrup between his fingers before drizzling them graciously across the plates.
He seemed to be having fun with such simple actions, was what her sense told her.
"I–" She started only to be cut short.
Eat first. Questions later. His finger pointing at her plate seemed to say.
She couldn't exactly complain when she was grateful for the breakfast, and also was planning to ask him for his help to get to Metropolis… or Washington DC if the former didn't work out.
He seemed content seeing her eat with barely restrained gusto and even refilled her empty glass without her knowing… until the fourth time he did so when she finished with her plate.
"Thank you. I really mean it." Her voice was even and once more she hated her curse that made it a risk to even properly express her gratitude.
"Mm."
She stood by the door watching him clean the kitchen, one of her arms nervously rubbing against the other.
"…" She wanted to speak but held herself back, unsure of what type of consequences may arise from it. But she felt this much was the least she could do with the unexpected care she was receiving.
"R… Raven. My name is Raven." She managed to say in an even tone, ignoring the initial stutter.
The pudgy man stood in the most bland posture she ever saw anyone stand in with a small towel hanging off his shoulders.
It was the slight ruffling of his mustache that revealed he spoke something, but her ears caught it nonetheless.
"Taro." He replied and paused, seemingly contemplating something before adding. "Or old man. Either is fine."
It seemed rude to simply call him old man so she settled for Taro. He didn't seem to mind either way.
Seeing that they finally got the basic introduction out of the way, only after eight hours but details, she couldn't help but finally ask the most curious question that remained stuck in her head since the previous night, especially as she took in the unflattering physique of the slightly obese man.
"Taro," She tried cautious, only continuing when she saw no negative reaction, "How did you do it last night?"
His head tilted in confusion, making her wonder if he was playing dumb. Regardless, she pressed on.
"Those demons," she started, watching his reaction intently as she did, "you did not look surprised by their existence. Have you seen them before?"
She had to know. She didn't know how long he was there but she was sure he definitely saw her use magic. Not that the upturned road was any subtle either.
The fact that he looked experienced against the demonic ilk and even took her in threatened to bloom the tiniest bud of hope in her.
Was he similar to the people of Azarath? It seemed too good to be true but it wouldn't hurt to ask. She wasn't in a position to refuse an helper of any kind.
He tapped his chin, or rather the mass of flesh he had for one - not that she was judging or anything, just pointing out what she saw - before shrugging with a slow shake of his head.
It wasn't an outright no. A maybe, perhaps?
Her brows creased. "Then how did you kill them so easily? And why did you take me in so readily?"
"You were in danger." He simply said. Well there was no way he knew she had been preparing to portal out of there so he wasn't lying.
But that left her with more questions.
"So what are you? If you don't mind me asking." She asked. She needed any header she could get. "Are you a sorcerer? A warlock? Or like those enhanced people, erm, metahumans?"
Once again he shook his head. "Human."
She might be late in realizing this but Taro was one for fewer words than she was.
She clearly didn't believe he was just human. There was something else there. Average humans don't just stumble on a group of demons and kill them with a stapler in less than 10 seconds.
'And there is also his mental barriers.' She knew a few warriors just like him, back when all she had was childish dreams when she slept. Disciplined and trained in not just magic, but in body and mind.
She bit her lips, weighing her options as she followed Taro to his shop through a door adjacent to the garage.
She asked a few questions here and there as he did a quick check on his mini-minimart before flipping the sign to start the day.
Raven finally came to a decision, one that posed certain risks as well as doubtful rewards. She raised her hand towards a magazine Taro was reaching for and lifted it across the counter to his hands.
'No flinch or surprise. So he knows. He's that used to magic. It might explain his mental barriers.' She theorized, deflating a bit as all he did was throw her a thumbs up and plopped into his seat.
Since he seemed cavalier about everything so far, Raven decided to inch a bit further.
"How are you guarding your mind and emotions? I can barely feel anything from you even when I'm standing right in front of you." She was blunt and direct. He seemed to think nothing special of helping her out, even going an extra length to accommodate her as much as he could.
She saw him dropping the magazine just below his glasses to look at her so she continued. "I'm an empath."
To her knowledge, empaths weren't the most accepted bunch due to their lacking sense of privacy. She risked that revelation and yet he seemed unperturbed.
She didn't know what he was thinking or felt on the inside, but his surface vibe remained casual.
"Can you help me? Constant meditation and a mantra is all I have." She pleaded with a hint of desperation in her voice.
Just because the morning has been pleasant so far didn't mean she forgot why she was traveling in the first place.
Taro dropped his magazine to give her a straight blank look before abruptly standing up and went to a small old drawer and pulled out a book that he tossed at her.
She caught it, taken aback for a bit, looked at the title of the book and leveled him her pending deadpan glare.
"'Mastering Stoicism: The Path to a Calm and Unshaken Mind'." As she read out the title, her voice dropped lower and lower until it was just a bland and frigid sound. "Are you joking?" It was a genuinely curious question. And she hoped he was.
He nodded. A wave of confidence flowed from him. "Gives good poker face."
"I have a good poker face."
"… Gives good poker mind?"
At this point she didn't know if he was having fun at her expense or he was being genuine in his own way.
Just then the bell rang as the door was pushed open to welcome their first customer. A child.
"Morning, Uncle T. Mama said I fell asleep at Ted's party so I missed the closing games." The boy walked through the aisle with an air of familiarity, grabbed a few things off the shelves, returned to Taro who gave him a small sealed package for his mother before he bolted out the door.
"See ya later, Uncle T."
Raven idly watched the whole interaction as her eyes skimmed through the book's first few pages before putting it down, not at all surprised by how useless it was.
Since there was nothing to do, she used the time between customers to organize her thoughts and temper her mind as she prepared for the inevitable departure.
More than ever, the Justice League needed to know what was coming. It was the worst case scenario and yet it only felt inevitable to her. But this time, she'd rather die than let a repeat of Azarath happen here.
Question.
"Hmm?" She raised her head to look at the old man at the counter who was staring straight at her. It was the first strong impression she got from his mind and it was so clear that she might have just heard his voice.
"You want to ask me a question?" She asked, gaining a nod in reply.
"Where to?"
"Metropolis, or Washington." The reply came out natural and she could guess the next question in line. In a way it almost felt like a textbook cutout.
"Why?"
"Doom, Armageddon, Apocalypse. Take your pick." She said evenly, not fully able to hide the sliver of fear as a certain memory flashed across her mind. She didn't doubt he saw it too.
"And the demons?" He asked, mulling over her last words with a casual posture. Either he didn't believe her or didn't believe the scale of her words, she thought bitterly.
Still she answered. "Sent by the followers of an eldritch dimensional evil warlord god to kidnap me for a ritual that will let him come to earth and conquer the planet along with the universe."
It couldn't get more literal than that.
She decided to ask a question of her own before he got the next one in. "How much do you know about demons and the dimension they reside?"
A shake of his head. So nothing huh? She didn't want to think about if he was lying to her. He accommodated her to the fullness of his abilities. That was more than she could ask for.
"Raven." He spoke, it was his first time saying her name. "You alone?"
Ah. So he knew, or suspected. She didn't try to make a call to anyone even after almost dying. It wasn't hard to come to that conclusion.
"They are all gone." She answered. Even to this moment she didn't know whose fault it was. Hers for losing control, or him for wanting her under his control. Whoever the blame laid with, it didn't change the fact that Azarath was gone. Her only home was gone.
She had been looking at the floor when she replied, half drowning in her memory pit and half reigning her emotions to a base.
When she raised her head she saw Taro's towering form in front of her and before she could berate herself for losing sight of his movement, her thoughts froze when he simply wrapped his huge chubby arms around her and pulled her into his embrace.
It was a soothing hug. He was so soft and embracing that even the snuggly pillows he gave her couldn't compare. Well, it was probably because of all the extra mounds of flesh.
Her thoughts slowly came back when she felt him patting her soothingly on the back.
And in that moment, the young child, Raven, never hated her inability to express her emotions as she did in that instance. She couldn't even freely hate the one that put her through all this. She couldn't loathe him from the depths of her soul, because she literally couldn't and she was sure that if she actually could he'd laugh with sickening malice and even encourage her to hate him more.
And that was the tamest vile thing she could think about her father.
When they separated, she almost felt hurt at the poker face she wore as they looked at each other with his hands on her shoulders.
He ruffled her hair and she let him do it because she was fighting the simmering boil in her guts.
"You are not leaving today." He suddenly said, snapping her out of her daze.
She frowned. "Why?"
He looked at her, really looked at her, and gave her his direct blunt words.
"You are a wreck."
She was not surprised by that. She would acknowledge that she was like pieces of a broken mirror blindly glued together to form the façade of being whole.
But Taro didn't stop there. He wanted her to know how close she was to the edge, even if she couldn't tell.
"You are unstable. You are lost. You are desperate." He said unhurriedly, articulating every word so she could see the reasons why.
"You are tying a noose around your neck with the same thread you are hanging on."
She blinked. She understood what he was saying. She knew she was running on fumes and desperation, but she had no choice but to thread on. Only she knew the result if she didn't. She had seen it once, and once was enough.
"Taro…. I don't have a choice. Everything will be meaningless if he finds a way to this dimension." Her voice was so frail like a leaf in the wind that it might as well be a whisper.
Taro looked at her, and while she could finally understand his general feelings on the subject, she had no idea what was going on in his mind.
"How long?" He asked but she shook her head.
"It's not a fixed calendar thing. He will keep trying every now and then to step through. This is just his latest attempt."
He tilted his head in a thoughtful way, a comical look Raven thought, and suddenly exhaled heavily through his nose like a bull and grabbed onto his other hand as he flexed his muscle. Or at least that was the intention behind the gesture.
She was staying until she was no longer a suicidal wreck, his aura told her as much.
"You will rest for now." His voice was back to their fading whisper volume.
What is preventing him from appearing right now?
She sensed the next question he was going to ask and bit her inner lips, unsure of how to answer. As well-meaning as Taro has been so far, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him, who was basically a stranger to her - her benefactor yes, but still a stranger -, what was currently restricting the Devil of Worlds and inadvertently giving him an idea on how to easily release him.
She couldn't tell anyone this except for the Justice League. They were the heroes, earth's strongest, who would rally to fight her father if he ever crossed over.
She looked at him and knew he understood the difficulty she was feeling and yet he remained looking at her silently. Not pressuring, she realized, but just waiting for her decision. All this screamed suspicion and backstabbing.
"You will be in danger if you know. Not just you, but everyone you know as well." She said, trying to dissuade his interest and make him realize the danger he was ignorantly prodding. "That kid this morning, his mother, and everyone from the birthday party – he'll make sure to kill them the first chance he gets."
For a brief moment, Raven thought she saw something, a sharp edge, gleaming off his glasses.
Depth_
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2025
- Messages
- 19
- Likes received
- 1,125
The perspective will change soon
ArgoDevilian
Hiiragi Utena is my Spirit Animal
- Joined
- Sep 18, 2022
- Messages
- 3,838
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- 43,698
few chapters later
Trigon: "Why can't you fools kill him! He's just a human with a stapler!"
Taro, standing next to Trigon: "It's a good stapler"
Trigon: "That doesn't- wait how long have you been ther-"
Taro: "omae wa mou shindeiru"
Trigone: "nani-"
Batman gonna be requesting mentorship under him lol
Trigon: "Why can't you fools kill him! He's just a human with a stapler!"
Taro, standing next to Trigon: "It's a good stapler"
Trigon: "That doesn't- wait how long have you been ther-"
Taro: "omae wa mou shindeiru"
Trigone: "nani-"
Batman gonna be requesting mentorship under him lol
WerewolfEros
Know what you're doing yet?
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Chapter 03 - A Child in Need
Depth_
Getting out there.
- Joined
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Rachel Roth, or as she currently went by, Raven, was a young girl who was unfortunate enough, or cursed as she describes herself, to be saddled with the cost of great destruction at a very young age.
A young girl with her loving mother and a community who, while wary of what she embodied, accepted her into their home and made her into one of them. A home for the child who never knew she needed one.
Alas, her birth as the herald of apocalypse was no mere prophecy as she, out of childish curiosity, invited with open arms a demon so vile that his name was synonymous with evil into her home, and in return he zealously brought with him gifts like any father who was meeting their grown-up child for the first time. He dotingly showered her with gifts only someone as strong and as absolute as him could give.
He turned her life into a hellish nightmare, except this was one she would never wake up from.
And like any father who would lovingly call his daughter his dear princess, he made her a princess of his kingdom and gifted her his home. He cherished her so much that he blessed her with a boon: his home will always follow her, all through the years of her life, and his kingdom will be with her every time she laid her head.
The name of his home was Hell.
The name of his kingdom was Nightmare.
Such a loving act was something only a father could do. So loved he her that of all his children, she was the only one he crowned with the key to his heart.
The key to his heart has a name. Its name is Despair.
So yes, while Rachel Roth hated her father with every core of her being, it wasn't anything surprising because she was human. And like every human teenage girl, she was in her rebellion phase where she hated anything that had to do with her old, stinky, and cringe father.
But it would pass, and she should be certain that her father was waiting just around the corner for the fateful day where she will once again open her heart to him so that he could shower her and all her friends with his heartfelt blessings and blessings to the best gifts of his kingdom.
A father's love was not to be underestimated.
A daughter's ire was not something to be overlooked.
So yes, depending on who was asked, Rachel Roth was caught in a bit of a family drama. A divorced father came to take back his daughter after his wife ran away with her without his consent during their divorce. While it was not an extremely common occurrence amongst human families, it was a typical one.
And like every typical father with the smallest loving bone in his body, he wouldn't sit still until he was reunited with his daughter. How could he not be worried when she ran away from home?
And if she was still angry at him, well rebellious teenage girls were weak to gifts. And gifts were the one thing he never ran out of.
.
…….
.
Raven was still having a hard time adjusting to her new life which all but started two days ago. Okay, maybe it was a stretch to call a two day experience a new life but the thought still holds.
When she thought of the person majorly responsible, the first image that came to mind wasn't that of an elderly man killing three demons in the blink of an eye, but of a fat slob that spent hours lazing in front of the TV at night with cans of beverage at arms length. Either that or it was the picture of an obese store manager slaving his days away at his business with dead passion.
All that just to say that the man she simply knew as Taro, because it was weird to ask a middle-aged man for his last name, was an extremely complicated person.
Despite his physically unfit body, Raven had a hard time keeping him in her senses. He was fast, not superhuman fast but way too fast for a normal human especially with such a body. And while she didn't have a measuring pole to know where she stood, she knew her empathic abilities was pretty strong, and yet it meant nothing to his mind.
But that was alright because he was going to teach her. She knew because he no longer waved it off with an absurd excuse.
She was more interested in his mental blocks training and how he meditated to raise it to such a high level.
So hey, maybe things were finally looking up for Raven?.... As if. She could almost smell the disaster coming.
"So what are you?" She asked, getting a feeling of confusion from him which made her elaborate.
"A warrior– um, I mean some type of fighter. You know, ninja, mercenary, military, something like that."
She got the feeling he found her guesses funny. She had found it mildly funny and annoying how he would sometimes remain silent and let her read his impressions, something that started after he found out she was an empath.
"Nothing important." He said but she didn't believe him one bit. She let him know with her customized deadpan.
"Right…" she drawled, "so what are we doing today?"
The two of them stared at each other silently. She was good at this game. She didn't project her thoughts into his mind so why did he think he could become the silent one?
"Clothes." Wow! That one word seemed to drain a good chunk of life out of him.
"Oh." She hadn't realized. Her sleepwear were the baggy clothes he gave her and the others were two extra pair of clothes change she carried with her. "Are you sure? I have no problem with these."
And she did. She wasn't one for materialistic possessions.
He nodded.
"And you're finally teaching me how when we get back?" She asked and he nodded, although a half bit slower.
It was almost strange how she fell into a sedated pace with him after just knowing him for two days. She still held a healthy dose of suspicion but it was mostly surface level.
She looked out of the window as he drove her around. Gotham City – her thoughts on this place wasn't positive in any way but thankfully his part of town was relatively safe.
They stopped at a neighborhood thrift store and both of them just stood at the door, waiting for the other to step in.
"Are we just going to stand here?" She asked.
"It's your shopping spree." He replied.
"I doubt I have that much of a fashion sense." She remarked.
"Fashion doesn't matter. Just pick something you'll like to wear." Was his immediate rebuttal before quickly adding. "Exercise restraint. The shop is almost tipping the red."
They spent less than twenty minutes there as Raven picked the only things she was familiar with. Dark clothes. It also reaffirmed that Gotham was a hell pit of a city when she sensed malice and smelled blood from a couple of shirts neatly folded on a shelf.
They went back home after that where Taro gave her one of his old flip phones. At least they made it back in one piece.
She had been worried that the acolytes would sniff her out when they went out but thankfully it remained a worry.
THWACK!
A pebble hit her on the head.
"Hmm. You are already good at this." He commented as he watched her meditate while he actively tried disrupting her focus every now and then.
She shook her head. She knew that already. She knew how good her meditation had come along, which was why she knew that she was still lacking.
"But you feel it's not enough." Taro said as he squatted to her line of sight.
She sighed. "I know it's not enough."
"Hmm."
She saw him pensive and but her lips. He wouldn't understand her impatience because he didn't know the full story.
"I hear him sometimes. In my mind." She confessed. "The jeers. The taunts… the nightmares. He does it constantly to make me lose control of my emotions. And bad things, like really bad things will happen if I do."
Taro let out a deep breath. Gently he grabbed her shoulders.
"The best way to master your emotions is to confront them."
She didn't hesitate in shaking her head strongly. "That is the one thing I can't do. He won't let a chance like that pass him by."
And therein lay the problem. She couldn't lose control again. Not now. Not ever. There was no way through or around it.
"Are you sure?" Taro's voice sounded soft.
She looked down with clouded eyes and clenched fists but her voice was of steely resolve. "Absolutely."
"Alright then." And like that he accepted her answer. She had somewhat hoped he would.
"Unfortunately I can't teach you anything about magic." He shrugged. "But I can teach you how to temper your calm."
"Not mental blocks?" She looked up with raised brows. He flicked her head for that. It hurt.
"Calm first. Mind later."
What Taro didn't tell her was that tempering a calm mind and tempering calm were two entirely different things and the latter took years to master.
She went into meditation which he would interrupt at points, the goal being her maintaining the same state of mind through the distractions. He smiled to himself knowing her exact thoughts.
She thought this would be easy due to the fact that she wasn't in any modicum of danger and her empathic abilities would quickly ignore the pokes. How innocently naïve. The fact that she was an empath only made it that much harder for her.
He picked a rubber pebble and flicked it towards her and watched with amusement when her eyes shot open in panic, magic coming alive in her hands, as she hurriedly flew to the side to dodge the harmless pebble.
Sweat matted her brows as she looked at him in horror and elevated wariness.
"A bit of an overreaction, don't you think?" He said casually while she narrowed her eyes at him with repressed anger.
"You… you tried to kill me!" She hid it but there was a crack in her voice. It made him feel immensely bad for a moment.
Despite being faced with the threat of her magic, he remained calm and shook his head. "It was just a pebble." He pointed at the pebble.
"W…wha… how?" She was gobsmacked, stuck between wariness and disbelief.
"Projecting intent." He simply said and didn't bother to explain more as he was sure she understood.
"Normal people will get goosebumps. You're an empath. You'll see and almost feel it." He flicked a toothpick towards her.
She froze for a moment, momentarily stuck in indecision, before veering to the side and using her magic to blast the poor toothpick to obliteration.
She took a second to convince herself that, yes, he didn't just lob a super fast spear at her at the speed of sound.
He looked pleased with himself when she came to herself.
"That's not how mental projection works!" She tried keeping her voice bland and even but the screeching exclamation was somewhere in there.
"I beg to differ." This insufferable old man!
She slowly floated down, taking deep breaths to prevent an apocalypse from starting. When she finally spoke, it sounded like a hiss as the words were practically forced through gritting teeth.
"Projecting intent is never that vivid. It is NOT that real."
"Says who?" He asked with the eyes of someone who knew something others didn't.
At the end of the day, an expert of magic she wasn't.
"Continue?"
She hesitated but eventually agreed. It took more than a few seconds to get over the thought that he had tried to kill her. No matter how she played it off, for a moment there she had been hurt, but then relief came soon after.
He warned her seriously as she went back into meditation. "Never think that none of those projections won't harm you. They will. Try to remain calm and react accordingly."
Her brows scrunched in focus and she fell into a meditative trance, a state that greatly limited her senses of the physical world.
She wasn't wrong in her reaction, nor in her words that they shouldn't have felt so real.
First of all, it slipped into her mind on its own, ignoring her own defenses against such mental attacks. Secondly, it overwhelmed her senses, making her think of nothing except death. It felt as if she was as good as dead, in fact she was sure she saw herself dead for a moment, which was why her reaction was so drastic.
On this day, Raven realized just how impossibly hard it was to remain calm in the face of imminent death.
.
……
.
Taro closed down his shop with a hearty hum, already thinking of his craved downtime of watching the new episodes of his favorite shows. This time instead of soda, he was going for the snack-ice-cream combo.
Raven had gone to bed early after their little exercise during the day so he had the whole bowl of ice-cream to himself.
Hmm. Maybe he should leave her some as comfort for her training today? Yeah, that sounded like a thoughtful idea.
His thoughts on accommodating an homeless and haunted child in his house were surprisingly elementary. She needed help and he was there to give it.
She was barely fifteen, all alone, and hunted by demons. He doubted she would have made it to Metropolis alive, or even survived the night.
Those were his thoughts as he came out of his room, refreshed and dappered up in lazy lounging clothes, and went straight for his promised scoops of ice-cream.
He was on his second scoop when he froze and looked in the direction of Raven's room in silent contemplation.
He sighed, temporarily terminating his scoops, and headed up to Raven's room with a small plate of ice-cream in his hands.
The joints in his fingers popped with a clear crisp. He reached the door and pushed it open, walking towards the unconscious Raven and ignoring the robed man and three demons surrounding her bed.
"Don't leave the window this wide open. She's not good with the cold." He remarked as he went to the window and closed it halfway. He turned back to the silent spectators. "Now then–"
The robed man had a snarl on his face and had been about to order the demons to attack when the first one was suddenly missing its head.
His instincts kicked in, making him subconsciously conjure up a magic barrier that suddenly sported cracks on it as it blocked a spoon.
"Wha–" In his shock, the magic he was using to suppress Raven's consciousness was disrupted, a backlash which jolted her up.
Old man Taro weaved over the arcing hands of a demon and threw his ice-cream up in the air and kicked the shin of the demon, making it scream in pain from the crunch that followed.
He caught a punch from the other demon in his palm before hastily letting go as it morphed into a fang-infested mouth. He caught the ice-cream behind his back and twisted his body to avoid a flash of magic and used three of his fingers to scoop up some ice-cream and splattered it on the face of the robed man and the two demons with pinpoint accuracy.
At this point Raven was fully awake and immediately struck the robed man from behind with a vengeful burst.
Spoon.
She flicked a finger and sent the spoon flying to Taro's hands, which he caught deftly and in a fluid motion grabbed the arms of a lunging demon and sliced through the muscles in its armpit, and in the same motion hurled it into the eyes of the last demon. Still grabbing the limping arm, he kicked it on its back and brought it to its knees and wrapped its arm over its head and with a sickening crunch, broke its spine and neck.
"Is that all of them?" Raven looked relieved when he gave her a cheeky thumbs up.
Taro radiated comfort as he gave her a few pats on the head which helped her calm down her rattled state. The radiating comfort, not the consolatory pats.
They traded a look as they looked at the groaning man on the floor. Taro picked him up with one hand and pulled back his hood to reveal a very gaunt and sickly pale old man.
"Who sent you?" Taro asked casually and swiftly broke the man's shoulders the moment a shadow of a smile flashed across his face.
"He… he… hah.. It won't change anything." The man wheezed out through the pain with a crazed light in his eyes. "His return is imminent. H… hail Trig..."
He withered away at a visible rate to Taro's surprise and Raven's disgust.
"They are fond of that. Maddened animals." The bland tone with which she said it was more scathing than any anger or hate she could have shown for them.
"It smells." Taro pointed out with a fluff of his mustache.
Raven deadpanned. "They are residents of hell, death and madness. Smelling bad is the least they can do"
"Hmm." He accepted it with a nonchalant shrug. "You okay?"
No emotion was shown on her face. "I survived for another day. That's more important than being okay."
The body, which was now only bones, was slowly dissolving into dust which exponentially made the smell worse, forcing Taro to open the windows wide and push Raven out of the room.
"It's gone." Raven heard his lament, slightly taken aback at how genuinely sad he felt, until she saw the reason for his damp mood. A small plate of half melted ice-cream.
'He is unbelievable.' She thought he was being a bit too dramatic and lost on priorities. A dark acolyte and three demons were just in his house and—
"Ice-cream?" The sudden question cut off her thoughts. 'And now he's giddy.'
'You know what? Just forget it, Raven.' She had no strength for anything other than a simple, "Yes.". Ice-cream sounded good right about now.
Raven found herself sharing a new plate of ice-cream with Taro as they watched an episode of his anticipated TV shows.
"What now?" Raven asked after the episode ended. She had spent the entire time in her head, warring and suppressing her negative thoughts.
"What do you mean?" Taro asked back.
She sighed. She felt confusion from him but she doubted that was what he was actually feeling.
"They attacked me in your house. They know I'm here, which means you're no longer safe here. They'll be after you from now on." She spelt it out all in one breath. "I'm sorry."
"These past few days have been some of the best I've had in recent years. Truly. I am really sorry for dragging you into this." Her eyes looked straight forward while her mouth opened up and said those words. They sounded apathetic and dry.
'All good things must come to an end. I shouldn't be surprised.' Raven resolved herself. It was time to get back to her mission–
"You can use my room tonight. We'll clear the other one tomorrow and you'll be using it until I fix the window and broken walls."
"Huh?"
"The other room? Well, it's a bit tight and has little ventilation so I use it to store some things. I'll have your room fixed in a few days." He explained.
"What? No, it's not that. I mean about the acolytes and the demons and my fa…" She trailed off at the end, eyes still locked on Taro's.
Taro rubbed his bloated chin in contemplation. "We'll think about it tomorrow, or maybe next tomorrow. Don't worry about it. We'll figure it out soon enough."
Her eyes widened in a rare show of emotion before she forced them to look down at her hands, not sure how to manage the deep gratitude she felt.
She sat like that even as a heavy arm wrapped around her and brought her head to rest on his shoulders.
"How was the ice-cream?"
She chuckled softly. What a ridiculous question. "It was great."
"Good." Taro nodded in satisfaction.
They remained like that in shared silence even after the clock struck past eleven, watching another of Taro's shows.
Raven forgot how long it has been since she felt something as simple as this. It was like a lifetime ago.
"His name is Trigon, the being those acolytes and demon's worship. The day I met him was the day he killed my mother and destroyed my world. My home." Her breath flowed statically as she spoke. "He killed everyone and everything. Gone. All reduced to fire and dust."
His arm around her tightened. She closed her eyes as her breathing devolved into failing gasps. His arms remained holding her close.
"He's my father." Her breath ceased as she said those words. Not knowing what to think of them or how to feel about them. But she knew how Taro felt.
It was an instant but she felt it. He froze, stunned, and then a sharp contrast flashed across his mind before dissipating. He rubbed her back soothingly. She found herself letting out the smallest, but definitely her brightest smile in years, even before he said anything.
She had thought of different reactions and replies to the revelation that the devil after her life was none other than Trigon. But this single declaration was one she never anticipated.
"Not any longer."
A young girl with her loving mother and a community who, while wary of what she embodied, accepted her into their home and made her into one of them. A home for the child who never knew she needed one.
Alas, her birth as the herald of apocalypse was no mere prophecy as she, out of childish curiosity, invited with open arms a demon so vile that his name was synonymous with evil into her home, and in return he zealously brought with him gifts like any father who was meeting their grown-up child for the first time. He dotingly showered her with gifts only someone as strong and as absolute as him could give.
He turned her life into a hellish nightmare, except this was one she would never wake up from.
And like any father who would lovingly call his daughter his dear princess, he made her a princess of his kingdom and gifted her his home. He cherished her so much that he blessed her with a boon: his home will always follow her, all through the years of her life, and his kingdom will be with her every time she laid her head.
The name of his home was Hell.
The name of his kingdom was Nightmare.
Such a loving act was something only a father could do. So loved he her that of all his children, she was the only one he crowned with the key to his heart.
The key to his heart has a name. Its name is Despair.
So yes, while Rachel Roth hated her father with every core of her being, it wasn't anything surprising because she was human. And like every human teenage girl, she was in her rebellion phase where she hated anything that had to do with her old, stinky, and cringe father.
But it would pass, and she should be certain that her father was waiting just around the corner for the fateful day where she will once again open her heart to him so that he could shower her and all her friends with his heartfelt blessings and blessings to the best gifts of his kingdom.
A father's love was not to be underestimated.
A daughter's ire was not something to be overlooked.
So yes, depending on who was asked, Rachel Roth was caught in a bit of a family drama. A divorced father came to take back his daughter after his wife ran away with her without his consent during their divorce. While it was not an extremely common occurrence amongst human families, it was a typical one.
And like every typical father with the smallest loving bone in his body, he wouldn't sit still until he was reunited with his daughter. How could he not be worried when she ran away from home?
And if she was still angry at him, well rebellious teenage girls were weak to gifts. And gifts were the one thing he never ran out of.
.
…….
.
Raven was still having a hard time adjusting to her new life which all but started two days ago. Okay, maybe it was a stretch to call a two day experience a new life but the thought still holds.
When she thought of the person majorly responsible, the first image that came to mind wasn't that of an elderly man killing three demons in the blink of an eye, but of a fat slob that spent hours lazing in front of the TV at night with cans of beverage at arms length. Either that or it was the picture of an obese store manager slaving his days away at his business with dead passion.
All that just to say that the man she simply knew as Taro, because it was weird to ask a middle-aged man for his last name, was an extremely complicated person.
Despite his physically unfit body, Raven had a hard time keeping him in her senses. He was fast, not superhuman fast but way too fast for a normal human especially with such a body. And while she didn't have a measuring pole to know where she stood, she knew her empathic abilities was pretty strong, and yet it meant nothing to his mind.
But that was alright because he was going to teach her. She knew because he no longer waved it off with an absurd excuse.
She was more interested in his mental blocks training and how he meditated to raise it to such a high level.
So hey, maybe things were finally looking up for Raven?.... As if. She could almost smell the disaster coming.
"So what are you?" She asked, getting a feeling of confusion from him which made her elaborate.
"A warrior– um, I mean some type of fighter. You know, ninja, mercenary, military, something like that."
She got the feeling he found her guesses funny. She had found it mildly funny and annoying how he would sometimes remain silent and let her read his impressions, something that started after he found out she was an empath.
"Nothing important." He said but she didn't believe him one bit. She let him know with her customized deadpan.
"Right…" she drawled, "so what are we doing today?"
The two of them stared at each other silently. She was good at this game. She didn't project her thoughts into his mind so why did he think he could become the silent one?
"Clothes." Wow! That one word seemed to drain a good chunk of life out of him.
"Oh." She hadn't realized. Her sleepwear were the baggy clothes he gave her and the others were two extra pair of clothes change she carried with her. "Are you sure? I have no problem with these."
And she did. She wasn't one for materialistic possessions.
He nodded.
"And you're finally teaching me how when we get back?" She asked and he nodded, although a half bit slower.
It was almost strange how she fell into a sedated pace with him after just knowing him for two days. She still held a healthy dose of suspicion but it was mostly surface level.
She looked out of the window as he drove her around. Gotham City – her thoughts on this place wasn't positive in any way but thankfully his part of town was relatively safe.
They stopped at a neighborhood thrift store and both of them just stood at the door, waiting for the other to step in.
"Are we just going to stand here?" She asked.
"It's your shopping spree." He replied.
"I doubt I have that much of a fashion sense." She remarked.
"Fashion doesn't matter. Just pick something you'll like to wear." Was his immediate rebuttal before quickly adding. "Exercise restraint. The shop is almost tipping the red."
They spent less than twenty minutes there as Raven picked the only things she was familiar with. Dark clothes. It also reaffirmed that Gotham was a hell pit of a city when she sensed malice and smelled blood from a couple of shirts neatly folded on a shelf.
They went back home after that where Taro gave her one of his old flip phones. At least they made it back in one piece.
She had been worried that the acolytes would sniff her out when they went out but thankfully it remained a worry.
THWACK!
A pebble hit her on the head.
"Hmm. You are already good at this." He commented as he watched her meditate while he actively tried disrupting her focus every now and then.
She shook her head. She knew that already. She knew how good her meditation had come along, which was why she knew that she was still lacking.
"But you feel it's not enough." Taro said as he squatted to her line of sight.
She sighed. "I know it's not enough."
"Hmm."
She saw him pensive and but her lips. He wouldn't understand her impatience because he didn't know the full story.
"I hear him sometimes. In my mind." She confessed. "The jeers. The taunts… the nightmares. He does it constantly to make me lose control of my emotions. And bad things, like really bad things will happen if I do."
Taro let out a deep breath. Gently he grabbed her shoulders.
"The best way to master your emotions is to confront them."
She didn't hesitate in shaking her head strongly. "That is the one thing I can't do. He won't let a chance like that pass him by."
And therein lay the problem. She couldn't lose control again. Not now. Not ever. There was no way through or around it.
"Are you sure?" Taro's voice sounded soft.
She looked down with clouded eyes and clenched fists but her voice was of steely resolve. "Absolutely."
"Alright then." And like that he accepted her answer. She had somewhat hoped he would.
"Unfortunately I can't teach you anything about magic." He shrugged. "But I can teach you how to temper your calm."
"Not mental blocks?" She looked up with raised brows. He flicked her head for that. It hurt.
"Calm first. Mind later."
What Taro didn't tell her was that tempering a calm mind and tempering calm were two entirely different things and the latter took years to master.
She went into meditation which he would interrupt at points, the goal being her maintaining the same state of mind through the distractions. He smiled to himself knowing her exact thoughts.
She thought this would be easy due to the fact that she wasn't in any modicum of danger and her empathic abilities would quickly ignore the pokes. How innocently naïve. The fact that she was an empath only made it that much harder for her.
He picked a rubber pebble and flicked it towards her and watched with amusement when her eyes shot open in panic, magic coming alive in her hands, as she hurriedly flew to the side to dodge the harmless pebble.
Sweat matted her brows as she looked at him in horror and elevated wariness.
"A bit of an overreaction, don't you think?" He said casually while she narrowed her eyes at him with repressed anger.
"You… you tried to kill me!" She hid it but there was a crack in her voice. It made him feel immensely bad for a moment.
Despite being faced with the threat of her magic, he remained calm and shook his head. "It was just a pebble." He pointed at the pebble.
"W…wha… how?" She was gobsmacked, stuck between wariness and disbelief.
"Projecting intent." He simply said and didn't bother to explain more as he was sure she understood.
"Normal people will get goosebumps. You're an empath. You'll see and almost feel it." He flicked a toothpick towards her.
She froze for a moment, momentarily stuck in indecision, before veering to the side and using her magic to blast the poor toothpick to obliteration.
She took a second to convince herself that, yes, he didn't just lob a super fast spear at her at the speed of sound.
He looked pleased with himself when she came to herself.
"That's not how mental projection works!" She tried keeping her voice bland and even but the screeching exclamation was somewhere in there.
"I beg to differ." This insufferable old man!
She slowly floated down, taking deep breaths to prevent an apocalypse from starting. When she finally spoke, it sounded like a hiss as the words were practically forced through gritting teeth.
"Projecting intent is never that vivid. It is NOT that real."
"Says who?" He asked with the eyes of someone who knew something others didn't.
At the end of the day, an expert of magic she wasn't.
"Continue?"
She hesitated but eventually agreed. It took more than a few seconds to get over the thought that he had tried to kill her. No matter how she played it off, for a moment there she had been hurt, but then relief came soon after.
He warned her seriously as she went back into meditation. "Never think that none of those projections won't harm you. They will. Try to remain calm and react accordingly."
Her brows scrunched in focus and she fell into a meditative trance, a state that greatly limited her senses of the physical world.
She wasn't wrong in her reaction, nor in her words that they shouldn't have felt so real.
First of all, it slipped into her mind on its own, ignoring her own defenses against such mental attacks. Secondly, it overwhelmed her senses, making her think of nothing except death. It felt as if she was as good as dead, in fact she was sure she saw herself dead for a moment, which was why her reaction was so drastic.
On this day, Raven realized just how impossibly hard it was to remain calm in the face of imminent death.
.
……
.
Taro closed down his shop with a hearty hum, already thinking of his craved downtime of watching the new episodes of his favorite shows. This time instead of soda, he was going for the snack-ice-cream combo.
Raven had gone to bed early after their little exercise during the day so he had the whole bowl of ice-cream to himself.
Hmm. Maybe he should leave her some as comfort for her training today? Yeah, that sounded like a thoughtful idea.
His thoughts on accommodating an homeless and haunted child in his house were surprisingly elementary. She needed help and he was there to give it.
She was barely fifteen, all alone, and hunted by demons. He doubted she would have made it to Metropolis alive, or even survived the night.
Those were his thoughts as he came out of his room, refreshed and dappered up in lazy lounging clothes, and went straight for his promised scoops of ice-cream.
He was on his second scoop when he froze and looked in the direction of Raven's room in silent contemplation.
He sighed, temporarily terminating his scoops, and headed up to Raven's room with a small plate of ice-cream in his hands.
The joints in his fingers popped with a clear crisp. He reached the door and pushed it open, walking towards the unconscious Raven and ignoring the robed man and three demons surrounding her bed.
"Don't leave the window this wide open. She's not good with the cold." He remarked as he went to the window and closed it halfway. He turned back to the silent spectators. "Now then–"
The robed man had a snarl on his face and had been about to order the demons to attack when the first one was suddenly missing its head.
His instincts kicked in, making him subconsciously conjure up a magic barrier that suddenly sported cracks on it as it blocked a spoon.
"Wha–" In his shock, the magic he was using to suppress Raven's consciousness was disrupted, a backlash which jolted her up.
Old man Taro weaved over the arcing hands of a demon and threw his ice-cream up in the air and kicked the shin of the demon, making it scream in pain from the crunch that followed.
He caught a punch from the other demon in his palm before hastily letting go as it morphed into a fang-infested mouth. He caught the ice-cream behind his back and twisted his body to avoid a flash of magic and used three of his fingers to scoop up some ice-cream and splattered it on the face of the robed man and the two demons with pinpoint accuracy.
At this point Raven was fully awake and immediately struck the robed man from behind with a vengeful burst.
Spoon.
She flicked a finger and sent the spoon flying to Taro's hands, which he caught deftly and in a fluid motion grabbed the arms of a lunging demon and sliced through the muscles in its armpit, and in the same motion hurled it into the eyes of the last demon. Still grabbing the limping arm, he kicked it on its back and brought it to its knees and wrapped its arm over its head and with a sickening crunch, broke its spine and neck.
"Is that all of them?" Raven looked relieved when he gave her a cheeky thumbs up.
Taro radiated comfort as he gave her a few pats on the head which helped her calm down her rattled state. The radiating comfort, not the consolatory pats.
They traded a look as they looked at the groaning man on the floor. Taro picked him up with one hand and pulled back his hood to reveal a very gaunt and sickly pale old man.
"Who sent you?" Taro asked casually and swiftly broke the man's shoulders the moment a shadow of a smile flashed across his face.
"He… he… hah.. It won't change anything." The man wheezed out through the pain with a crazed light in his eyes. "His return is imminent. H… hail Trig..."
He withered away at a visible rate to Taro's surprise and Raven's disgust.
"They are fond of that. Maddened animals." The bland tone with which she said it was more scathing than any anger or hate she could have shown for them.
"It smells." Taro pointed out with a fluff of his mustache.
Raven deadpanned. "They are residents of hell, death and madness. Smelling bad is the least they can do"
"Hmm." He accepted it with a nonchalant shrug. "You okay?"
No emotion was shown on her face. "I survived for another day. That's more important than being okay."
The body, which was now only bones, was slowly dissolving into dust which exponentially made the smell worse, forcing Taro to open the windows wide and push Raven out of the room.
"It's gone." Raven heard his lament, slightly taken aback at how genuinely sad he felt, until she saw the reason for his damp mood. A small plate of half melted ice-cream.
'He is unbelievable.' She thought he was being a bit too dramatic and lost on priorities. A dark acolyte and three demons were just in his house and—
"Ice-cream?" The sudden question cut off her thoughts. 'And now he's giddy.'
'You know what? Just forget it, Raven.' She had no strength for anything other than a simple, "Yes.". Ice-cream sounded good right about now.
Raven found herself sharing a new plate of ice-cream with Taro as they watched an episode of his anticipated TV shows.
"What now?" Raven asked after the episode ended. She had spent the entire time in her head, warring and suppressing her negative thoughts.
"What do you mean?" Taro asked back.
She sighed. She felt confusion from him but she doubted that was what he was actually feeling.
"They attacked me in your house. They know I'm here, which means you're no longer safe here. They'll be after you from now on." She spelt it out all in one breath. "I'm sorry."
"These past few days have been some of the best I've had in recent years. Truly. I am really sorry for dragging you into this." Her eyes looked straight forward while her mouth opened up and said those words. They sounded apathetic and dry.
'All good things must come to an end. I shouldn't be surprised.' Raven resolved herself. It was time to get back to her mission–
"You can use my room tonight. We'll clear the other one tomorrow and you'll be using it until I fix the window and broken walls."
"Huh?"
"The other room? Well, it's a bit tight and has little ventilation so I use it to store some things. I'll have your room fixed in a few days." He explained.
"What? No, it's not that. I mean about the acolytes and the demons and my fa…" She trailed off at the end, eyes still locked on Taro's.
Taro rubbed his bloated chin in contemplation. "We'll think about it tomorrow, or maybe next tomorrow. Don't worry about it. We'll figure it out soon enough."
Her eyes widened in a rare show of emotion before she forced them to look down at her hands, not sure how to manage the deep gratitude she felt.
She sat like that even as a heavy arm wrapped around her and brought her head to rest on his shoulders.
"How was the ice-cream?"
She chuckled softly. What a ridiculous question. "It was great."
"Good." Taro nodded in satisfaction.
They remained like that in shared silence even after the clock struck past eleven, watching another of Taro's shows.
Raven forgot how long it has been since she felt something as simple as this. It was like a lifetime ago.
"His name is Trigon, the being those acolytes and demon's worship. The day I met him was the day he killed my mother and destroyed my world. My home." Her breath flowed statically as she spoke. "He killed everyone and everything. Gone. All reduced to fire and dust."
His arm around her tightened. She closed her eyes as her breathing devolved into failing gasps. His arms remained holding her close.
"He's my father." Her breath ceased as she said those words. Not knowing what to think of them or how to feel about them. But she knew how Taro felt.
It was an instant but she felt it. He froze, stunned, and then a sharp contrast flashed across his mind before dissipating. He rubbed her back soothingly. She found herself letting out the smallest, but definitely her brightest smile in years, even before he said anything.
She had thought of different reactions and replies to the revelation that the devil after her life was none other than Trigon. But this single declaration was one she never anticipated.
"Not any longer."
dazzle_dork
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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I wonder what happened to his wife. I doubt it's as simple as she divorced him cause she saw him kill someone. How he froze at the mention of trigon being ravens father, I get the feeling she snd his daughter died yo something in Gotham
LordTom
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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- 8,652
Or maybe like John Wick, his wife dies if a disease and he made a promise to only helo people and not kill for money.
Chapter 04 - Another Day in Gotham
Depth_
Getting out there.
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For the first time in a long time, Raven finally had a place she belonged. A place that was given to her freely without anything asked in return. It scared her just as much as it elated her.
The thought of losing this small bastion of peace terrified her so much that her nightmares grew increasingly vicious. Her thoughts were so in disarray after waking that only when she sensed the old man's presence would she finally regain her sense of calm.
It was almost like Taro knew because she had an easier time sensing his presence now than she did before.
For a young girl that fighting demons, dark acolytes and pushing back the influence of a dimensional gone had been her routine for the past few years, this new state she found herself was both a blessing and a curse. Just like everything in her life.
There was this growing dynamic between Raven and Taro that was foreign to the younger girl and accepted in strides by the older man.
Once she had dared thought that the budding connection between the both of them was something she'd never felt before, not even when her mother had been alive, but she banished that thought to the darkest deep where she kept the rest of her emotions.
"Do you think we'll get attacked soon?" Raven asked after helping a customer clear out their purchase.
You know them more. What do you think?
She pursed her lips. It's been a little over a week since the last attack in her room and she was growing a bit concerned since they might have found out about her location and were simply gathering a stronger group to kidnap her.
The words mulled over in her mouth before they came out. "I've been doing my best hiding myself from any scrying or locating magic but that's hardly a solution. A very skilled sorcerer can find me easily."
She was hesitant in asking them to move around because she also didn't like that idea, good one as it was.
"Gotham also makes it easier for people like me to hide, so there's that. It is also possible that they've lost track of me." She squinted her eyes as she said those words. They tasted foul in her mouth. They were too optimistic for someone like her to stomach.
What do you have in mind?
She deflated at the question. "I honestly don't know. Superman and the rest of the Justice League are halfway across the world right now so…"
The door opened and Taro stepped inside the store with a toolbox and gave her a thumbs up. "I fixed our sign."
"At least that's one of our problems solved." She said dryly.
He bent down to drop the toolbox and froze, his face turning grim.
"What happened?"
His neck creaked like a rusted cog as his face turned to her. One of his hands went to his back, his face looked pained. "My back."
She stared blankly at him and remarked apathetically. "Old man."
Taro straightened up with a sharp wince and foggy eyes. "I'm not that old." He groaned.
Raven scoffed. "You are in your forties."
"Early–" His pitiful argument was brutally cut off.
"But still in your forties." Came her cold rebuttal. "Plus you're overweight with an unhealthy obsession with canned soda. You should count yourself lucky if you see the gate of your fifties."
His tall height and big frame seemed to shrivel up. He felt aggrieved at Raven's word.
"Your last days aside, what should we do?"
He trailed his way to his chair behind the counter and bumped her to the side with his hips. He was sulking and she could see it.
"If there's nothing important to do then we do nothing." Taro said as he picked up a new magazine and flipped it open with a flair.
"Right."
The door to the store swung open and a man walked in and went around picking up a few things, cursing when he didn't find some he was looking for.
"Hey fatty, try stocking up some more heh?" He yelled angrily as he stomped towards them and dropped a few things on the counter. "Make it quick, girl. I've got lotta things to do."
"Right." Raven replied evenly, neither of them showing much of a reaction. "That'll be $24.70."
The man's face changed into a pissed snarl. "The hell you just say? While not make it 50 bucks while ya at it."
Raven made to reply when a gun was pulled and leveled at Taro who was focused on his magazine.
"Since y'all are into daylight robbery, let me repay the favor aight?" His face wore a salacious smirk. "Hop on it, girl! Clear the register or fatty here gets it."
Raven looked at Taro who continued reading his magazine unbothered. "I said hop on it. And don't be no smartass and call the cops."
"Right." She said dispassionately and glanced at Taro who was still engrossed in his magazine. "We're getting robbed."
The customer-turned-robber looked between the two of them and stretched his gun threateningly at the languidly relaxing ball of flesh.
"You deaf girl?" He corked the gun, his next action shown clearly in his eyes. "Open the damn thing and count them bucks up! Or fatty over here will be Gotham's newest statistic."
Raven's hands twitched behind the counter. She was a breath away from acting when the old blob beside her dropped his magazine and looked at their robber.
"What you looking at fatty?!" The man had just about had it with the two of them and aimed at Taro's shoulders only for Taro to spit out something from his mouth straight into the barrel of the gun.
The startled man immediately fired his gun only for him to scream as it blew up in his hand.
His eyes went dark as he crumpled to the floor in the next moment.
"Are you going to call the cops?" Raven asked.
"Already did it."
The police came soon and whisked their poor customer away, blaming his accident on a faulty gun, which unfortunately wasn't a rare occurrence among criminals in Gotham. Most of them knew jack about servicing a gun.
All in all, it was an uneventful day for the new duo.
.
……
.
Somewhere in Gotham….
A group of black and red robed people gathered around in a circle in a crypt, chanting in an obscure language with their hands connected to each other.
They stood on top of a magic circle that was constantly oozing black miasma. As the miasma rose some of them started falling dead. Half of them had died by the time the whole crypt was suffocating in the bale fog.
It formed a visage of a demonic face with four glowing red eyes and a mouth that echoed the screams of the terribly damned.
Seeing the magnificent visage of their god, the ones that were still alive fell on their knees and worshipped the projection of the overlord god of death and darkness.
Trigon the Terrible.
"You will find her soon. When you do, send me the soul of the one at her side. He has earned my ire. I dare you to fail." It was a demonic voice traipsed with the wailings of the eternally tormented.
The projection was gone as soon as it finished speaking, and it took with it the souls of half of those that had been alive.
One of the robed men that wore a coronary piece on his head barked impatiently with his tainted voice.
"Find her now!" Raw terror painted their words and actions. How could they remain calm when Trigon's wrath loomed over their heads?
Wraiths and dark spectres rose from the ground and flew out through the walls into the city above.
"I want her found in 48 hours or I'll refine your souls into my Spectral Flames!" A baleful aura leaked from the Head Priest's body as his threat fell on the last retreating figures.
The Head Priest was left alone in the dark crypt as he whispered darkly to himself. "Centuries of Priests… I will not be the one to fail in preparing for his magnificent descent." All four of his beady black eyes gleamed with madness.
.
……
.
Raven couldn't help but sigh for what was probably the millionth time.
Taro had taken the robber's words yesterday to heart and wanted to refresh his shop's stock of random products.
So now they were in his van, driving into Central Gotham after he put in a call to his numerous suppliers.
"You said we were close to striking red so why do you want to waste money stocking up when the shop is still full?"
She didn't particularly care either way, not about his money problems or his failing shop – she wasn't materialistic. What she cared about, and was greatly annoyed by, was that he was driving her straight into the heart of the city where thousands of people mingle at every second. She was an empath with basic control. She was the ultimate introvert.
Taro, being his usual dumb mass of flesh, only looked at her with disdain from behind his glasses. He shook his head.
You are still a child, Raven. You wouldn't understand.
Cue Raven's pending trademark glaring deadpan. This insufferable old man was patronizing her? On top of his rash decision?
She ignored him and leaned against the window after pulling down the hood of her dark purple jacket.
"I still don't like this city." She muttered to herself. The very air of the city felt uncomfortable against her skin. A feeling that grew more potent as they went deeper into the city.
Other than the familiar nausea and constant irritation that accompanied her abilities whenever she was in grossly crowded places, they only spent a short few hours between going through the city to the different retailers and loading up the car and they were done and ready to return.
It was already nighttime when they started their return drive.
To keep her busy, Taro had spent half of the time during his shopping forcing small training instances as they moved above. It kept her busy and drew her attention from the rampaging emotions that seemed to fill the city of vice.
"That wasn't so bad." Taro said as he drove at a moderate speed.
"Hmm." Raven, even with her reluctance to be out in city, agreed. She equally enjoyed and hated the spontaneous attacks she suffered from him during their training.
She still hasn't managed to remain calm, not even once, to his deathly projections but she was somewhat able to react. He had graded her as barely passable. That was enough for now and she could tell that it was working.
As they left Central Gotham and drove towards the outskirts, both of them couldn't help but think of what would be the best way to end the day.
Taro shifted between beverages and ice-cream accompanied with an episode rerun, while Raven pondered between reading some of Taro's books with a cup of his tea or more mental practices.
BOOOOOM!
The car directly behind them exploded which violently knocked their car into an uncontrollable swerve.
Taro's face turned serious as he tried to get the car in control, which he succeeded with before they could tumble over, and pushed back into the main road.
"That's Batman." Raven pointed as an heavily armored car zoomed past them with a bike following sharply behind.
Another explosion rocked the road, breaking the windows of Taro's van, but Raven had them protected with a barrier inside their car.
"It's coming from behind. We'll have to get off the main road." She informed him.
"Got it. Hold on." He frowned and spun the wheel harshly as he saw someone firing an RPG, barely avoiding it as he saw it fly past the back of his car towards the bike at the front.
"Gotham is crazy." Raven said with a tone of finality as Taro grove sharply past Old Gotham, a section of the city that had burned to the ground decades ago and was overrun with broken buildings and overgrown vegetation.
"I can't deny that." Taro said. He already regrets leaving his shop today.
"Uh oh." Taro suddenly looked like he was about to cry.
"What is it?" Raven asked as she felt a wave of despair rolling off him.
He leaned back into the headrest as the car slowed to a stop. The deceleration of the car proportionately increasing the acceleration of his soul leaving his body.
"Why are we stopping?" She asked blandly, refusing to believe for an instant that the car just stopped in the middle of nowhere.
"The least of our problems is burst tires. The bonnet is smoking." His soul fractured with every word he spoke. He looked at Raven with tears in his eyes. "We are already in the red. How are we going to fix the car?"
She gave up. She kicked the door open to get out and did what she could to stop the car from smoking.
"Are you just going to cry in there?" This guy was unbelievable. He could dodge bullets, swerve through explosions, kill demons with a spoon, all with a neutral expression on his face, and a red ledger reduced him to a broken slump.
He grumbled incoherently as he got out of the car. Defeat all but apparent in his eyes.
"We'll walk through here. Get to the nearest junction and take a cab. I'll come back tomorrow with my tools to fix it." He said, though almost breaking a whimper at the end there.
They walked through the wirily vines and trees that grew through the broken buildings and roads of Old Gotham.
They walked for a fair bit when Taro held Raven to stop. "There's fighting up ahead."
She closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. "You're right. It feels like different groups. Some are hard to pick up for some reason."
He didn't hesitate and pointed in another direction. "We'll circle over them."
He suddenly dragged Raven behind him and used his other hand to snatch three shurikens out of the air.
"Assassins." He said with a certain draw to his voice.
The bushes around them were too silent. Even the thrown shurikens had barely made a noise.
"Assassins?" Her brows were scrunched in concentration. "Are they like ninjas or something? I can barely feel them around."
"Yes."
His hand whipped out and caught a dagger, filling the spaces between his fingers with the addition of the three shurikens, and with barely what could be called a jerking motion he chucked them all so fast that none of his assailants noticed they were gone until it had nailed them to where they hid.
Seeing Taro pointing out their hiding spot, Raven grabbed them with her magic with enough force to knock them out.
"Good. Let's go."
She followed behind him as they cut an arching path through the bushes in order to avoid whatever fight was going on, unfortunately however, the fight found them.
Four shadows dropped from above with short swords only for two of them to be grabbed the moment their feet touched the ground and promptly smacked against the ground, instantly knocking them out.
The last two saw this and jumped back to put distance between them and the surprising threat, only for their eyes to lose sight of him for a second and in the next second when they saw him he was in their middle with his hands grabbing their heads which he smashed together, adding them to the rising tally of knocked out ninjas.
"The fight is moving. It's getting closer." Taro caught a glint from the edge of his glasses. He rolled on the ground to grab a small stone and threw it to accurately knock out a dagger flying for Raven.
He flicked three smaller pebbles and knocked down five curving shurikens.
"Behind you!" Raven warned but he was already on it as he turned around to trap a sword between his bicep and forearm.
"Oh? You're quite something, fatso." A man in a stylized armored suit decked out in weapons with a mask asymmetrically divided in black and red stared threateningly at Taro.
Deathstroke. A world renowned mercenary and master assassin.
"Sorry, no witnesses." He didn't seem to care about his sword trapped in Taro's arm since he whipped out a gun, something that couldn't be dodged at such close range, only for Taro's other hand to reach out in the same moment and dismantle the gun from the barrel before Deathstroke could pull the trigger.
The both of them separated, scrutinizing the other, Taro's face a mask of deceptive calm while Deathstroke hid his behind his mask.
"Who are you?" Deathstroke asked but Taro remained silent as he stood between the famed mercenary and Raven.
Deathstroke chuckled. "Trust Gotham to hide all the crazies. How about an introduction? You can't expect me to believe you're just a fat chump, hmm?"
Seeing Taro staying silent, Deathstroke sighed and shook his head. "Well then, too bad. At least this outing won't be completely boring."
Raven who stood to the side stayed still and silent as Taro told her to. She kept her eyes and senses open for any ambush attacks–
3 o'clock. The rocks' shadow.
–just like this one Taro pointed out.
She was wowed at the level of his awareness and acuity, something she could only understand because she was learning the same thing under him.
He had his focus on Deathstroke, on her exact location and position of her body, the location and awareness of the actions of nearby enemies, WHILE also painting a precise mental picture of their exact location and current action.
Take away the level of his combat skills, something she still couldn't wrap her head around, and any other mastery he was capable of and leave just his mental capabilities and it would still be one of the most impressive things Raven has ever seen.
"Oh, so the girlie knows magic. This might be tricky." Deathstroke commented with audible interest but remained wholly unbothered. "Is she your daughter or something? I have a lass too, so how about it?"
Deathstroke attacked with lethal precision the moment Taro tilted his head in confusion, having sheathed his sword and opted for using his fists, and brought his hand down on Taro's solar plexus and at the same time made a vicious chop towards his neck.
Taro caught the hand dead center and deflected the chop with a chop of his own. He swept his leg at Deathstroke who easily saw through the basic maneuver and raised one of his legs to avoid the sweep only for Taro to pick him off the ground and throw him over his shoulder. Back to the ground.
The thought of losing this small bastion of peace terrified her so much that her nightmares grew increasingly vicious. Her thoughts were so in disarray after waking that only when she sensed the old man's presence would she finally regain her sense of calm.
It was almost like Taro knew because she had an easier time sensing his presence now than she did before.
For a young girl that fighting demons, dark acolytes and pushing back the influence of a dimensional gone had been her routine for the past few years, this new state she found herself was both a blessing and a curse. Just like everything in her life.
There was this growing dynamic between Raven and Taro that was foreign to the younger girl and accepted in strides by the older man.
Once she had dared thought that the budding connection between the both of them was something she'd never felt before, not even when her mother had been alive, but she banished that thought to the darkest deep where she kept the rest of her emotions.
"Do you think we'll get attacked soon?" Raven asked after helping a customer clear out their purchase.
You know them more. What do you think?
She pursed her lips. It's been a little over a week since the last attack in her room and she was growing a bit concerned since they might have found out about her location and were simply gathering a stronger group to kidnap her.
The words mulled over in her mouth before they came out. "I've been doing my best hiding myself from any scrying or locating magic but that's hardly a solution. A very skilled sorcerer can find me easily."
She was hesitant in asking them to move around because she also didn't like that idea, good one as it was.
"Gotham also makes it easier for people like me to hide, so there's that. It is also possible that they've lost track of me." She squinted her eyes as she said those words. They tasted foul in her mouth. They were too optimistic for someone like her to stomach.
What do you have in mind?
She deflated at the question. "I honestly don't know. Superman and the rest of the Justice League are halfway across the world right now so…"
The door opened and Taro stepped inside the store with a toolbox and gave her a thumbs up. "I fixed our sign."
"At least that's one of our problems solved." She said dryly.
He bent down to drop the toolbox and froze, his face turning grim.
"What happened?"
His neck creaked like a rusted cog as his face turned to her. One of his hands went to his back, his face looked pained. "My back."
She stared blankly at him and remarked apathetically. "Old man."
Taro straightened up with a sharp wince and foggy eyes. "I'm not that old." He groaned.
Raven scoffed. "You are in your forties."
"Early–" His pitiful argument was brutally cut off.
"But still in your forties." Came her cold rebuttal. "Plus you're overweight with an unhealthy obsession with canned soda. You should count yourself lucky if you see the gate of your fifties."
His tall height and big frame seemed to shrivel up. He felt aggrieved at Raven's word.
"Your last days aside, what should we do?"
He trailed his way to his chair behind the counter and bumped her to the side with his hips. He was sulking and she could see it.
"If there's nothing important to do then we do nothing." Taro said as he picked up a new magazine and flipped it open with a flair.
"Right."
The door to the store swung open and a man walked in and went around picking up a few things, cursing when he didn't find some he was looking for.
"Hey fatty, try stocking up some more heh?" He yelled angrily as he stomped towards them and dropped a few things on the counter. "Make it quick, girl. I've got lotta things to do."
"Right." Raven replied evenly, neither of them showing much of a reaction. "That'll be $24.70."
The man's face changed into a pissed snarl. "The hell you just say? While not make it 50 bucks while ya at it."
Raven made to reply when a gun was pulled and leveled at Taro who was focused on his magazine.
"Since y'all are into daylight robbery, let me repay the favor aight?" His face wore a salacious smirk. "Hop on it, girl! Clear the register or fatty here gets it."
Raven looked at Taro who continued reading his magazine unbothered. "I said hop on it. And don't be no smartass and call the cops."
"Right." She said dispassionately and glanced at Taro who was still engrossed in his magazine. "We're getting robbed."
The customer-turned-robber looked between the two of them and stretched his gun threateningly at the languidly relaxing ball of flesh.
"You deaf girl?" He corked the gun, his next action shown clearly in his eyes. "Open the damn thing and count them bucks up! Or fatty over here will be Gotham's newest statistic."
Raven's hands twitched behind the counter. She was a breath away from acting when the old blob beside her dropped his magazine and looked at their robber.
"What you looking at fatty?!" The man had just about had it with the two of them and aimed at Taro's shoulders only for Taro to spit out something from his mouth straight into the barrel of the gun.
The startled man immediately fired his gun only for him to scream as it blew up in his hand.
His eyes went dark as he crumpled to the floor in the next moment.
"Are you going to call the cops?" Raven asked.
"Already did it."
The police came soon and whisked their poor customer away, blaming his accident on a faulty gun, which unfortunately wasn't a rare occurrence among criminals in Gotham. Most of them knew jack about servicing a gun.
All in all, it was an uneventful day for the new duo.
.
……
.
Somewhere in Gotham….
A group of black and red robed people gathered around in a circle in a crypt, chanting in an obscure language with their hands connected to each other.
They stood on top of a magic circle that was constantly oozing black miasma. As the miasma rose some of them started falling dead. Half of them had died by the time the whole crypt was suffocating in the bale fog.
It formed a visage of a demonic face with four glowing red eyes and a mouth that echoed the screams of the terribly damned.
Seeing the magnificent visage of their god, the ones that were still alive fell on their knees and worshipped the projection of the overlord god of death and darkness.
Trigon the Terrible.
"You will find her soon. When you do, send me the soul of the one at her side. He has earned my ire. I dare you to fail." It was a demonic voice traipsed with the wailings of the eternally tormented.
The projection was gone as soon as it finished speaking, and it took with it the souls of half of those that had been alive.
One of the robed men that wore a coronary piece on his head barked impatiently with his tainted voice.
"Find her now!" Raw terror painted their words and actions. How could they remain calm when Trigon's wrath loomed over their heads?
Wraiths and dark spectres rose from the ground and flew out through the walls into the city above.
"I want her found in 48 hours or I'll refine your souls into my Spectral Flames!" A baleful aura leaked from the Head Priest's body as his threat fell on the last retreating figures.
The Head Priest was left alone in the dark crypt as he whispered darkly to himself. "Centuries of Priests… I will not be the one to fail in preparing for his magnificent descent." All four of his beady black eyes gleamed with madness.
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……
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Raven couldn't help but sigh for what was probably the millionth time.
Taro had taken the robber's words yesterday to heart and wanted to refresh his shop's stock of random products.
So now they were in his van, driving into Central Gotham after he put in a call to his numerous suppliers.
"You said we were close to striking red so why do you want to waste money stocking up when the shop is still full?"
She didn't particularly care either way, not about his money problems or his failing shop – she wasn't materialistic. What she cared about, and was greatly annoyed by, was that he was driving her straight into the heart of the city where thousands of people mingle at every second. She was an empath with basic control. She was the ultimate introvert.
Taro, being his usual dumb mass of flesh, only looked at her with disdain from behind his glasses. He shook his head.
You are still a child, Raven. You wouldn't understand.
Cue Raven's pending trademark glaring deadpan. This insufferable old man was patronizing her? On top of his rash decision?
She ignored him and leaned against the window after pulling down the hood of her dark purple jacket.
"I still don't like this city." She muttered to herself. The very air of the city felt uncomfortable against her skin. A feeling that grew more potent as they went deeper into the city.
Other than the familiar nausea and constant irritation that accompanied her abilities whenever she was in grossly crowded places, they only spent a short few hours between going through the city to the different retailers and loading up the car and they were done and ready to return.
It was already nighttime when they started their return drive.
To keep her busy, Taro had spent half of the time during his shopping forcing small training instances as they moved above. It kept her busy and drew her attention from the rampaging emotions that seemed to fill the city of vice.
"That wasn't so bad." Taro said as he drove at a moderate speed.
"Hmm." Raven, even with her reluctance to be out in city, agreed. She equally enjoyed and hated the spontaneous attacks she suffered from him during their training.
She still hasn't managed to remain calm, not even once, to his deathly projections but she was somewhat able to react. He had graded her as barely passable. That was enough for now and she could tell that it was working.
As they left Central Gotham and drove towards the outskirts, both of them couldn't help but think of what would be the best way to end the day.
Taro shifted between beverages and ice-cream accompanied with an episode rerun, while Raven pondered between reading some of Taro's books with a cup of his tea or more mental practices.
BOOOOOM!
The car directly behind them exploded which violently knocked their car into an uncontrollable swerve.
Taro's face turned serious as he tried to get the car in control, which he succeeded with before they could tumble over, and pushed back into the main road.
"That's Batman." Raven pointed as an heavily armored car zoomed past them with a bike following sharply behind.
Another explosion rocked the road, breaking the windows of Taro's van, but Raven had them protected with a barrier inside their car.
"It's coming from behind. We'll have to get off the main road." She informed him.
"Got it. Hold on." He frowned and spun the wheel harshly as he saw someone firing an RPG, barely avoiding it as he saw it fly past the back of his car towards the bike at the front.
"Gotham is crazy." Raven said with a tone of finality as Taro grove sharply past Old Gotham, a section of the city that had burned to the ground decades ago and was overrun with broken buildings and overgrown vegetation.
"I can't deny that." Taro said. He already regrets leaving his shop today.
"Uh oh." Taro suddenly looked like he was about to cry.
"What is it?" Raven asked as she felt a wave of despair rolling off him.
He leaned back into the headrest as the car slowed to a stop. The deceleration of the car proportionately increasing the acceleration of his soul leaving his body.
"Why are we stopping?" She asked blandly, refusing to believe for an instant that the car just stopped in the middle of nowhere.
"The least of our problems is burst tires. The bonnet is smoking." His soul fractured with every word he spoke. He looked at Raven with tears in his eyes. "We are already in the red. How are we going to fix the car?"
She gave up. She kicked the door open to get out and did what she could to stop the car from smoking.
"Are you just going to cry in there?" This guy was unbelievable. He could dodge bullets, swerve through explosions, kill demons with a spoon, all with a neutral expression on his face, and a red ledger reduced him to a broken slump.
He grumbled incoherently as he got out of the car. Defeat all but apparent in his eyes.
"We'll walk through here. Get to the nearest junction and take a cab. I'll come back tomorrow with my tools to fix it." He said, though almost breaking a whimper at the end there.
They walked through the wirily vines and trees that grew through the broken buildings and roads of Old Gotham.
They walked for a fair bit when Taro held Raven to stop. "There's fighting up ahead."
She closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. "You're right. It feels like different groups. Some are hard to pick up for some reason."
He didn't hesitate and pointed in another direction. "We'll circle over them."
He suddenly dragged Raven behind him and used his other hand to snatch three shurikens out of the air.
"Assassins." He said with a certain draw to his voice.
The bushes around them were too silent. Even the thrown shurikens had barely made a noise.
"Assassins?" Her brows were scrunched in concentration. "Are they like ninjas or something? I can barely feel them around."
"Yes."
His hand whipped out and caught a dagger, filling the spaces between his fingers with the addition of the three shurikens, and with barely what could be called a jerking motion he chucked them all so fast that none of his assailants noticed they were gone until it had nailed them to where they hid.
Seeing Taro pointing out their hiding spot, Raven grabbed them with her magic with enough force to knock them out.
"Good. Let's go."
She followed behind him as they cut an arching path through the bushes in order to avoid whatever fight was going on, unfortunately however, the fight found them.
Four shadows dropped from above with short swords only for two of them to be grabbed the moment their feet touched the ground and promptly smacked against the ground, instantly knocking them out.
The last two saw this and jumped back to put distance between them and the surprising threat, only for their eyes to lose sight of him for a second and in the next second when they saw him he was in their middle with his hands grabbing their heads which he smashed together, adding them to the rising tally of knocked out ninjas.
"The fight is moving. It's getting closer." Taro caught a glint from the edge of his glasses. He rolled on the ground to grab a small stone and threw it to accurately knock out a dagger flying for Raven.
He flicked three smaller pebbles and knocked down five curving shurikens.
"Behind you!" Raven warned but he was already on it as he turned around to trap a sword between his bicep and forearm.
"Oh? You're quite something, fatso." A man in a stylized armored suit decked out in weapons with a mask asymmetrically divided in black and red stared threateningly at Taro.
Deathstroke. A world renowned mercenary and master assassin.
"Sorry, no witnesses." He didn't seem to care about his sword trapped in Taro's arm since he whipped out a gun, something that couldn't be dodged at such close range, only for Taro's other hand to reach out in the same moment and dismantle the gun from the barrel before Deathstroke could pull the trigger.
The both of them separated, scrutinizing the other, Taro's face a mask of deceptive calm while Deathstroke hid his behind his mask.
"Who are you?" Deathstroke asked but Taro remained silent as he stood between the famed mercenary and Raven.
Deathstroke chuckled. "Trust Gotham to hide all the crazies. How about an introduction? You can't expect me to believe you're just a fat chump, hmm?"
Seeing Taro staying silent, Deathstroke sighed and shook his head. "Well then, too bad. At least this outing won't be completely boring."
Raven who stood to the side stayed still and silent as Taro told her to. She kept her eyes and senses open for any ambush attacks–
3 o'clock. The rocks' shadow.
–just like this one Taro pointed out.
She was wowed at the level of his awareness and acuity, something she could only understand because she was learning the same thing under him.
He had his focus on Deathstroke, on her exact location and position of her body, the location and awareness of the actions of nearby enemies, WHILE also painting a precise mental picture of their exact location and current action.
Take away the level of his combat skills, something she still couldn't wrap her head around, and any other mastery he was capable of and leave just his mental capabilities and it would still be one of the most impressive things Raven has ever seen.
"Oh, so the girlie knows magic. This might be tricky." Deathstroke commented with audible interest but remained wholly unbothered. "Is she your daughter or something? I have a lass too, so how about it?"
Deathstroke attacked with lethal precision the moment Taro tilted his head in confusion, having sheathed his sword and opted for using his fists, and brought his hand down on Taro's solar plexus and at the same time made a vicious chop towards his neck.
Taro caught the hand dead center and deflected the chop with a chop of his own. He swept his leg at Deathstroke who easily saw through the basic maneuver and raised one of his legs to avoid the sweep only for Taro to pick him off the ground and throw him over his shoulder. Back to the ground.
Chapter 05 - Consequences of a Reckless Decision
New
Depth_
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2025
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A/N: This story has been sitting for some time in a little folder on my phone and I've never gotten around to really post it, mostly because I forget it's there, or something else. Hopefully that changes now.
I'll try to post, at the very least, three chapters a week from now on, maybe more depending on how much time I get. So that's that I guess.
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Slade Wilson was a man of morals and an upright code of ethics.
Others would say otherwise but no one got to the heights he's reached without a strict rule of guidance. He abides zealously by his and it was because of his astuteness in keeping to these rules that he became a figure whose words were his bonds.
That is how he became one of the most honorable and honest men in his line of work that even heroes like Batman and Green Arrow respected him and were more than willing to cooperate with him or even let him go scot-free if he were so inclined to ask.
All this because of a simple code he abided religiously to: Anything fucking goes.
Deathstroke, Slade Wilson, was a man who knew as many things as he has seen. Even in his line of work, he knew and have heard of figures that were just as good as he was and sometimes even better.
All these were the reason he knew this fatso was full of shit. People of his skillset and mastery were part of a close-knit community that made it impossible for anyone to remain totally unknown. Someone always knew someone.
And he is someone that is in the business of knowing people and things.
"It seems I underestimated you a bit." Deathstroke laughed as he pushed himself off the ground and cracked his knuckles. "It won't happen again. I promise you."
Deathstroke and Taro both took an equal number of steps until they were both in each other's faces. They lowered their center of gravity and took their stances, each had one of their hands forward that it formed a cross between them.
They both attacked at the same time, Deathstroke throwing a barrage of punches filled with feints, while Taro defended and counterattacked at the same time.
Against a masterful fighter like Deathstroke, it highlighted just how skilled Taro hid behind his obese skin.
Punches, kicks, grapples and lunges were traded with equal and greater ferocity, dodging, evading and flipping all to get that one advantage over their opponent.
And the first clean strike went to Taro.
His hand went to Deathstroke's face, fingers outstretched, the latter who thought Taro was aiming for a grab and aimed to stop the action before it started by grabbing Taro's wrist, only for Taro to drive a palm heel straight into his face, forcing Deathstroke to stagger backwards.
What most would never know from fighting Taro due to his fat, was the amount of strength and force his simplest actions could generate. Physically, he was a monster wearing bloated cuddly skin.
Deathstroke, who was disoriented, barely rolled out of the way to dodge the heel drop from above, only to be kicked across the face for the second foot that came for a straight back strike.
As he fell backwards his hands went to his chest holster and drew out a gun and shot thrice at Taro who deflected the bullets with a dagger he stole from Deathstroke's waist.
Taro closed in as threw the blade and knocked the gun out of Deathstroke's hands and complimented his accurate throw with a flying kick to Deathstroke's open chest that sent his rolling a few meters, only for Taro to look at his leg and frown.
Deathstroke was good. He had attacked Taro's leg at the last second to weaken the damage and it had worked.
Taro kicked his leg a few times and poked at it twice before nodding to himself. Now it was good as new.
"Ah, there it is." Deathstroke patted his chest, likely finding the point of any broken bone.
He didn't say another word but flung thin needles ahead before lunging at Taro who quickly took the cover of the pen in his breast pocket and easily snatched all the needles midair, despite it being nighttime, and threw them back at Deathstroke who ignored them and hacked a slash at Taro and forced him to retreat several steps.
Deathstroke didn't let up for a single breath. He continued forcing Taro to the backfoot with a mixture of his sword and hand-to-hand combat.
Taro was already spotting a few tears on his shirt and shallow cuts on his skin as he tried to avoid the Deathstroke's sword, which sometimes left him open for a few smacks.
"Taro!" He couldn't help but smile when he heard Raven's concerned shout even as she hurled one of the assassin's blades at him.
He caught it as he flourished a spin to avoid the two side slashes from both sides and parried Deathstroke's center stab at the end of his spin.
He spun the short sword around his fingers with the flair of excellent showmanship, even passing the blade between both of his hands without interrupting the spin around the fingers. He threw it from his back and caught it in his front before beckoning at Deathstroke with the sword.
His little theatrics wasn't just for that but to get the precise weight, feel, balance and spin of the blade.
Deathstroke answered the call and rushed at him, this time with gun and sword in hand, while Taro waited for him without moving from his spot.
He dodged the first shot and parried the overhead sword only to dodge the bullet's path again and stopped the sword again.
Deathstroke went for another shot only to find his gun jammed so he threw it away. The two excellent fighters fell into straight swordplay.
Sparks and sharp clangs were the only reply that could be heard from their fight.
"We have to leave. A bunch of ninjas are coming over." Raven warned Taro who nodded as he clashed again with Deathstroke.
"You think I'll let you leave that easily?" Deathstroke asked with a rasp in his voice.
"Yes." Taro simply replied, even giving Deathstroke an honest nod.
Before Deathstroke could reply or even start another endless series of attacks, something rushed at him from behind and smacked him so hard that he practically flew for a couple of meters before crashing to the ground.
He had barely bounced off the ground when a short sword flew in from the darkness and pierced through his armor to pin him to the ground and missing his skin by mere centimeters.
His consciousness slowly came back when he sensed someone coming towards him from the shadows.
His sword sank into the ground beside his head, something that made him smile from behind his mask.
"Do you find the ground amusing for some reason?" A cold enchanting voice entered his head, clearing the last fog of dizziness off his mind.
"As you can very well see, Lady Shiva, I'm nailed to the ground." He said humorously but that changed nothing in the cold woman's expression or voice.
She just stared hard at him before he shrugged and pushed himself off the ground with little effort along with the blade still lodged tightly between his skin and his armor.
He could see the question in her posture so all he could give was a noncommittal shrug.
"A white haired fatty in glasses laid some of your guys to sleep so I stepped in. It was going well before the girl that was with him did her magic jumbo and flung me 30 meters in the air."
Geez. He could practically feel being cut up just by that glare she had.
"He's not some average chump, that's for sure." He could see the way her brows quirked up just the faintest bit and smirked behind his mask. "Trust me. I'd rather fight Bats anytime than to fight whoever the hell that was. Not that I won't fight him the next time I see him, just saying."
"Why do you say so?" She asked. Her curiosity was baited the moment he made the Batman comparison, like he knew it would.
His smile widened and he was sure she could tell just how large his smile was.
"Because dear fatty did not try to kill me throughout the fight. Not even once."
"Hmm." A soft hum was her only reaction, but that was telling enough. "Did you get his name?"
Deathstroke shook his head. "Kept silent the whole time… wait, I think the girl mentioned his name when she sensed you guys coming. Pretty sure she called him Taro. With skills like that, I doubt he's such an unknown."
When he turned to face Lady Shiva, his hands gripped around his sword tighter. At that moment he was ready to fight or die because of how murderous the intent in her eyes were.
"Taro… white hair… glasses." Lady Shiva repeated to him and he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving any part of her body.
"You know him?"
She was about to nod but paused in confusion as she looked at him. "Did you say fat?"
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……
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"This is all your fault, you know that right?" Raven said as they stepped inside the house.
"Please, don't rub it in anymore. I'm already dreading when tomorrow comes." His mustache trembled.
"You willingly dipped in red and did unnecessary shopping. We got bombed at. Twice." His mustache seemed to shrivel as she listed the highlights of their day. "The van broke down in the woods, so we had to abandon it there WITH the truckload of unnecessary shopping. As if that was not enough, we got attacked by ninjas. And then got attacked by a master ninja. And we still have to hope they don't hunt us for a grudge."
Taro. The man who had shrugged off Deathstroke's attack, whimpered as every bad thing that was listed came from his one harmless decision.
"I'm already at my wits end with my demonic stalkers and you just had to go find your own with a bunch of assassins. Hopefully we don't die in our sleep." Even her attempt at sarcastic humor came out dry. For an average day, she could have gone without this particular batch of headache.
"I'm going to bed. Goodnight." Raven sighed and gave him a lazy wave. She was completely drained by today's events.
As soon as Raven disappeared into her room, Taro's eyes turned cold as he walked towards his room. Today was completely unexpected. Never would he have thought of losing his car and running into Deathstroke and the League of Assassins on the same day.
Things were getting riled up lately so he'd have to take some… precautions.
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Raven never liked dreaming. She was fine with sleeping, but the experience that came after was one she would gladly do without. She stopped liking dreams the day Azarath was destroyed. Her dreams died with it that day.
From that very day her dreams stopped being hers and hers alone. She hated dreaming because all she saw after sleeping was the continuation of an unending nightmare and the raucous laughter of a prideful animal even choing in her ears in every passing second.
No one knew the extent of the battles she has fought in her mind just to maintain a semblance of normalcy. She did not chain down her emotions because she didn't understand them or because she didn't like them. She shunted them to the dark recesses of her mind because she had no choice.
All the choices she's made since that ill-fated day were always made in mind of preventing Trigon's descent.
So now that she stood in the destroyed ruins of a familiar looking house and front shop, even as her heart ached, she closed it to it.
"It doesn't matter, dear daughter 'o mine. It will happen one day. One day soon. Either by your hand or by his." And there it was, like the devil it was, the source of all her torment.
"The fact that all you can speak is lies sometimes, however rare, gives me comfort." Raven remarked as she sat cross-legged and slowly drifted away in a meditative trance.
The voice laughed hysterically in the background.
"If you are so sure all I say is lies, then why do you doubt the truth? Why do you fear and rebuke my lies so? Tell me, daughter, by my name I will destroy his life and grind his soul for eternity, do I lie?"
Raven's brows scrunched up in extreme focus as she fought to banish this sliver of Trigon's consciousness that had grown too big.
Even as he showered her with visions of his intended actions, she ignored being sprayed with blood and viscera to focus on what was most important: sealing this hateful thing to deepest depths of darkness. Only that he would call it comfortable.
Even as he was suppressed he still continued to laugh at her as her body trembled uncontrollably: because they both knew he had won again.
Others might see this as torment but neither of them did. All they saw was the stark truth. The truth that she would sacrifice everything she had and held dear if it meant pushing him back for a few measly years.
If she was that resolved against him then far be it from him as her father to not prepare a grand stage for her to proudly show it to all.
If they both knew she would unfailingly sacrifice it all against him then why was she entertaining this farce? Why did she continue to act as if she cared about any of these people?
Why bother to bond with them in the first place?... Oh Raven, you ashen hearted girl. They are the sacrificial lamb and you are fattening them up.
Oh how she hated dreaming. It was always a fight to separate her real thoughts from all her other thoughts.
Every person's thoughts consists of both good and evil. In her case, every part of her was alive in her dreams. Her thoughts, her emotions, the thoughts of her thoughts and the thoughts of her emotions. In this space, they all argue against each other for who would be 'Raven's' true thoughts.
As a living being, the person known as Raven is a very complex and layered entity. So complex that the two people that knew her the most, herself and her father, could not claim to fully understand her.
Seeing the consciousness of her thoughts arguing against each other again, Raven grew tired of it and shouted. "I don't care about any of it all! I don't care about any of you either! I just want to go to sleep and wake up without fighting a war in my mind, or against my mind. If none of you care enough to understand why, then I couldn't care less about you or your thoughts."
She banished all of them, good and bad – she didn't care. They'll crawl back up very soon, she knew, and she'll repeat the same song and dance.
It was suffocating.
Truly a pitiful child. She was alone even in her own mind.
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……..
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Taro was in the kitchen that morning like he routinely was at the start of every day when Raven came in and immediately he could tell that something was wrong with her.
She was focused, she was lighthearted, she neutrally enjoyed her breakfast, she even asked about the van (that pricked into his heart fiercely). She was every bit alright as she was the previous days but he could tell that something was swarming about the kid.
Raven could put on a mean poker face but it was easily read by him, though he remained silent and never spoke of it, so it wasn't something that she was hiding from him.
'She's losing something she had yesterday morning and I don't know what.' He wracked his brain but couldn't come up with any explanation for what felt out of place about her.
He was growing fonder of the kid with every passing day that he somehow started worrying about her from time to time.
He psyched himself up. He couldn't allow the first kid in his extensive care to fall into the slumps this early.
"What's got into you?" Raven asked as she sat beside him with one of her books on hand. "One moment you feel sad, which I guess is probably because of the van, then another you feel down, then lost. Now suddenly you're up and peppy."
Oh right, his resident empath.
"Adult stuff." He simply said and she accepted it.
"And now you find something funny." She commented offhandedly as she engrossed herself in her book. He also knew she loved his 'Mastering Stoicism: The Path to a Calm and Unshaken Mind' book. He wondered how she'd react if she ever found out who the author of that book really was.
"Sometimes I really want to jump inside your mind to see what you think of at random times." She made another absentminded remark, one he actually chuckled to.
He could understand why people would be on edge or even uncomfortable if they had to live in the same house as an empath and a telepath. He didn't have that problem.
To him it was kind of fun. One he could only play with a half demonic empathic telepathic child. Oh, and who also turned out to be the princess of uncountable hellish worlds and also functioned part-time as the key to apocalypse. It was fun either way.
"What about the van?" Raven asked.
His breath pursed, which he was sure did something strange to his mustache.
"The cops called. I called someone to tow it over." That was the only good news that came out of whatever yesterday was.
She put the book down while sporting an uncertain look. She scratched the side of her head with her hand that was fully covered by the sleeves of the oversized sweater she wore.
"Hmm, I don't know. Are you sure your stock will be safe? I know for a fact that Gotham's police are as corrupt as everyone says they are."
Ah, she was worried about that. What a goodhearted kid. Taro flashed her one of his best thumbs up.
"I know the cop and the truck driver. And it's easier to repair it here in the garage than in the middle of the woods."
Seeing that he already got it covered she shrugged and went back to her magic tome. He reached out and gave her a tender pat on the head, one she didn't react to, with a softer smile on his face.
"Since the shop won't open today, I'll be training you once again after the van arrives." He informed her and chuckled as she groaned in frustration when all he could read from her was silent anticipation.
I'll try to post, at the very least, three chapters a week from now on, maybe more depending on how much time I get. So that's that I guess.
.
.
.
.
.
Slade Wilson was a man of morals and an upright code of ethics.
Others would say otherwise but no one got to the heights he's reached without a strict rule of guidance. He abides zealously by his and it was because of his astuteness in keeping to these rules that he became a figure whose words were his bonds.
That is how he became one of the most honorable and honest men in his line of work that even heroes like Batman and Green Arrow respected him and were more than willing to cooperate with him or even let him go scot-free if he were so inclined to ask.
All this because of a simple code he abided religiously to: Anything fucking goes.
Deathstroke, Slade Wilson, was a man who knew as many things as he has seen. Even in his line of work, he knew and have heard of figures that were just as good as he was and sometimes even better.
All these were the reason he knew this fatso was full of shit. People of his skillset and mastery were part of a close-knit community that made it impossible for anyone to remain totally unknown. Someone always knew someone.
And he is someone that is in the business of knowing people and things.
"It seems I underestimated you a bit." Deathstroke laughed as he pushed himself off the ground and cracked his knuckles. "It won't happen again. I promise you."
Deathstroke and Taro both took an equal number of steps until they were both in each other's faces. They lowered their center of gravity and took their stances, each had one of their hands forward that it formed a cross between them.
They both attacked at the same time, Deathstroke throwing a barrage of punches filled with feints, while Taro defended and counterattacked at the same time.
Against a masterful fighter like Deathstroke, it highlighted just how skilled Taro hid behind his obese skin.
Punches, kicks, grapples and lunges were traded with equal and greater ferocity, dodging, evading and flipping all to get that one advantage over their opponent.
And the first clean strike went to Taro.
His hand went to Deathstroke's face, fingers outstretched, the latter who thought Taro was aiming for a grab and aimed to stop the action before it started by grabbing Taro's wrist, only for Taro to drive a palm heel straight into his face, forcing Deathstroke to stagger backwards.
What most would never know from fighting Taro due to his fat, was the amount of strength and force his simplest actions could generate. Physically, he was a monster wearing bloated cuddly skin.
Deathstroke, who was disoriented, barely rolled out of the way to dodge the heel drop from above, only to be kicked across the face for the second foot that came for a straight back strike.
As he fell backwards his hands went to his chest holster and drew out a gun and shot thrice at Taro who deflected the bullets with a dagger he stole from Deathstroke's waist.
Taro closed in as threw the blade and knocked the gun out of Deathstroke's hands and complimented his accurate throw with a flying kick to Deathstroke's open chest that sent his rolling a few meters, only for Taro to look at his leg and frown.
Deathstroke was good. He had attacked Taro's leg at the last second to weaken the damage and it had worked.
Taro kicked his leg a few times and poked at it twice before nodding to himself. Now it was good as new.
"Ah, there it is." Deathstroke patted his chest, likely finding the point of any broken bone.
He didn't say another word but flung thin needles ahead before lunging at Taro who quickly took the cover of the pen in his breast pocket and easily snatched all the needles midair, despite it being nighttime, and threw them back at Deathstroke who ignored them and hacked a slash at Taro and forced him to retreat several steps.
Deathstroke didn't let up for a single breath. He continued forcing Taro to the backfoot with a mixture of his sword and hand-to-hand combat.
Taro was already spotting a few tears on his shirt and shallow cuts on his skin as he tried to avoid the Deathstroke's sword, which sometimes left him open for a few smacks.
"Taro!" He couldn't help but smile when he heard Raven's concerned shout even as she hurled one of the assassin's blades at him.
He caught it as he flourished a spin to avoid the two side slashes from both sides and parried Deathstroke's center stab at the end of his spin.
He spun the short sword around his fingers with the flair of excellent showmanship, even passing the blade between both of his hands without interrupting the spin around the fingers. He threw it from his back and caught it in his front before beckoning at Deathstroke with the sword.
His little theatrics wasn't just for that but to get the precise weight, feel, balance and spin of the blade.
Deathstroke answered the call and rushed at him, this time with gun and sword in hand, while Taro waited for him without moving from his spot.
He dodged the first shot and parried the overhead sword only to dodge the bullet's path again and stopped the sword again.
Deathstroke went for another shot only to find his gun jammed so he threw it away. The two excellent fighters fell into straight swordplay.
Sparks and sharp clangs were the only reply that could be heard from their fight.
"We have to leave. A bunch of ninjas are coming over." Raven warned Taro who nodded as he clashed again with Deathstroke.
"You think I'll let you leave that easily?" Deathstroke asked with a rasp in his voice.
"Yes." Taro simply replied, even giving Deathstroke an honest nod.
Before Deathstroke could reply or even start another endless series of attacks, something rushed at him from behind and smacked him so hard that he practically flew for a couple of meters before crashing to the ground.
He had barely bounced off the ground when a short sword flew in from the darkness and pierced through his armor to pin him to the ground and missing his skin by mere centimeters.
His consciousness slowly came back when he sensed someone coming towards him from the shadows.
His sword sank into the ground beside his head, something that made him smile from behind his mask.
"Do you find the ground amusing for some reason?" A cold enchanting voice entered his head, clearing the last fog of dizziness off his mind.
"As you can very well see, Lady Shiva, I'm nailed to the ground." He said humorously but that changed nothing in the cold woman's expression or voice.
She just stared hard at him before he shrugged and pushed himself off the ground with little effort along with the blade still lodged tightly between his skin and his armor.
He could see the question in her posture so all he could give was a noncommittal shrug.
"A white haired fatty in glasses laid some of your guys to sleep so I stepped in. It was going well before the girl that was with him did her magic jumbo and flung me 30 meters in the air."
Geez. He could practically feel being cut up just by that glare she had.
"He's not some average chump, that's for sure." He could see the way her brows quirked up just the faintest bit and smirked behind his mask. "Trust me. I'd rather fight Bats anytime than to fight whoever the hell that was. Not that I won't fight him the next time I see him, just saying."
"Why do you say so?" She asked. Her curiosity was baited the moment he made the Batman comparison, like he knew it would.
His smile widened and he was sure she could tell just how large his smile was.
"Because dear fatty did not try to kill me throughout the fight. Not even once."
"Hmm." A soft hum was her only reaction, but that was telling enough. "Did you get his name?"
Deathstroke shook his head. "Kept silent the whole time… wait, I think the girl mentioned his name when she sensed you guys coming. Pretty sure she called him Taro. With skills like that, I doubt he's such an unknown."
When he turned to face Lady Shiva, his hands gripped around his sword tighter. At that moment he was ready to fight or die because of how murderous the intent in her eyes were.
"Taro… white hair… glasses." Lady Shiva repeated to him and he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving any part of her body.
"You know him?"
She was about to nod but paused in confusion as she looked at him. "Did you say fat?"
.
……
.
"This is all your fault, you know that right?" Raven said as they stepped inside the house.
"Please, don't rub it in anymore. I'm already dreading when tomorrow comes." His mustache trembled.
"You willingly dipped in red and did unnecessary shopping. We got bombed at. Twice." His mustache seemed to shrivel as she listed the highlights of their day. "The van broke down in the woods, so we had to abandon it there WITH the truckload of unnecessary shopping. As if that was not enough, we got attacked by ninjas. And then got attacked by a master ninja. And we still have to hope they don't hunt us for a grudge."
Taro. The man who had shrugged off Deathstroke's attack, whimpered as every bad thing that was listed came from his one harmless decision.
"I'm already at my wits end with my demonic stalkers and you just had to go find your own with a bunch of assassins. Hopefully we don't die in our sleep." Even her attempt at sarcastic humor came out dry. For an average day, she could have gone without this particular batch of headache.
"I'm going to bed. Goodnight." Raven sighed and gave him a lazy wave. She was completely drained by today's events.
As soon as Raven disappeared into her room, Taro's eyes turned cold as he walked towards his room. Today was completely unexpected. Never would he have thought of losing his car and running into Deathstroke and the League of Assassins on the same day.
Things were getting riled up lately so he'd have to take some… precautions.
.
…….
.
Raven never liked dreaming. She was fine with sleeping, but the experience that came after was one she would gladly do without. She stopped liking dreams the day Azarath was destroyed. Her dreams died with it that day.
From that very day her dreams stopped being hers and hers alone. She hated dreaming because all she saw after sleeping was the continuation of an unending nightmare and the raucous laughter of a prideful animal even choing in her ears in every passing second.
No one knew the extent of the battles she has fought in her mind just to maintain a semblance of normalcy. She did not chain down her emotions because she didn't understand them or because she didn't like them. She shunted them to the dark recesses of her mind because she had no choice.
All the choices she's made since that ill-fated day were always made in mind of preventing Trigon's descent.
So now that she stood in the destroyed ruins of a familiar looking house and front shop, even as her heart ached, she closed it to it.
"It doesn't matter, dear daughter 'o mine. It will happen one day. One day soon. Either by your hand or by his." And there it was, like the devil it was, the source of all her torment.
"The fact that all you can speak is lies sometimes, however rare, gives me comfort." Raven remarked as she sat cross-legged and slowly drifted away in a meditative trance.
The voice laughed hysterically in the background.
"If you are so sure all I say is lies, then why do you doubt the truth? Why do you fear and rebuke my lies so? Tell me, daughter, by my name I will destroy his life and grind his soul for eternity, do I lie?"
Raven's brows scrunched up in extreme focus as she fought to banish this sliver of Trigon's consciousness that had grown too big.
Even as he showered her with visions of his intended actions, she ignored being sprayed with blood and viscera to focus on what was most important: sealing this hateful thing to deepest depths of darkness. Only that he would call it comfortable.
Even as he was suppressed he still continued to laugh at her as her body trembled uncontrollably: because they both knew he had won again.
Others might see this as torment but neither of them did. All they saw was the stark truth. The truth that she would sacrifice everything she had and held dear if it meant pushing him back for a few measly years.
If she was that resolved against him then far be it from him as her father to not prepare a grand stage for her to proudly show it to all.
If they both knew she would unfailingly sacrifice it all against him then why was she entertaining this farce? Why did she continue to act as if she cared about any of these people?
Why bother to bond with them in the first place?... Oh Raven, you ashen hearted girl. They are the sacrificial lamb and you are fattening them up.
Oh how she hated dreaming. It was always a fight to separate her real thoughts from all her other thoughts.
Every person's thoughts consists of both good and evil. In her case, every part of her was alive in her dreams. Her thoughts, her emotions, the thoughts of her thoughts and the thoughts of her emotions. In this space, they all argue against each other for who would be 'Raven's' true thoughts.
As a living being, the person known as Raven is a very complex and layered entity. So complex that the two people that knew her the most, herself and her father, could not claim to fully understand her.
Seeing the consciousness of her thoughts arguing against each other again, Raven grew tired of it and shouted. "I don't care about any of it all! I don't care about any of you either! I just want to go to sleep and wake up without fighting a war in my mind, or against my mind. If none of you care enough to understand why, then I couldn't care less about you or your thoughts."
She banished all of them, good and bad – she didn't care. They'll crawl back up very soon, she knew, and she'll repeat the same song and dance.
It was suffocating.
Truly a pitiful child. She was alone even in her own mind.
.
……..
.
Taro was in the kitchen that morning like he routinely was at the start of every day when Raven came in and immediately he could tell that something was wrong with her.
She was focused, she was lighthearted, she neutrally enjoyed her breakfast, she even asked about the van (that pricked into his heart fiercely). She was every bit alright as she was the previous days but he could tell that something was swarming about the kid.
Raven could put on a mean poker face but it was easily read by him, though he remained silent and never spoke of it, so it wasn't something that she was hiding from him.
'She's losing something she had yesterday morning and I don't know what.' He wracked his brain but couldn't come up with any explanation for what felt out of place about her.
He was growing fonder of the kid with every passing day that he somehow started worrying about her from time to time.
He psyched himself up. He couldn't allow the first kid in his extensive care to fall into the slumps this early.
"What's got into you?" Raven asked as she sat beside him with one of her books on hand. "One moment you feel sad, which I guess is probably because of the van, then another you feel down, then lost. Now suddenly you're up and peppy."
Oh right, his resident empath.
"Adult stuff." He simply said and she accepted it.
"And now you find something funny." She commented offhandedly as she engrossed herself in her book. He also knew she loved his 'Mastering Stoicism: The Path to a Calm and Unshaken Mind' book. He wondered how she'd react if she ever found out who the author of that book really was.
"Sometimes I really want to jump inside your mind to see what you think of at random times." She made another absentminded remark, one he actually chuckled to.
He could understand why people would be on edge or even uncomfortable if they had to live in the same house as an empath and a telepath. He didn't have that problem.
To him it was kind of fun. One he could only play with a half demonic empathic telepathic child. Oh, and who also turned out to be the princess of uncountable hellish worlds and also functioned part-time as the key to apocalypse. It was fun either way.
"What about the van?" Raven asked.
His breath pursed, which he was sure did something strange to his mustache.
"The cops called. I called someone to tow it over." That was the only good news that came out of whatever yesterday was.
She put the book down while sporting an uncertain look. She scratched the side of her head with her hand that was fully covered by the sleeves of the oversized sweater she wore.
"Hmm, I don't know. Are you sure your stock will be safe? I know for a fact that Gotham's police are as corrupt as everyone says they are."
Ah, she was worried about that. What a goodhearted kid. Taro flashed her one of his best thumbs up.
"I know the cop and the truck driver. And it's easier to repair it here in the garage than in the middle of the woods."
Seeing that he already got it covered she shrugged and went back to her magic tome. He reached out and gave her a tender pat on the head, one she didn't react to, with a softer smile on his face.
"Since the shop won't open today, I'll be training you once again after the van arrives." He informed her and chuckled as she groaned in frustration when all he could read from her was silent anticipation.
Chapter 06 - An Evening with the Acolytes
New
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Getting out there.
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Raven woke up with a startled gasp, something that was becoming common with every passing day due to the increasing violent nature of her nightmares. She calmed herself in seconds, another thing that was becoming a common act – A delicate balance.
The reoccurring dream was a constant worry as it did nothing good for her. And she knows the reason why.
That accursed date was approaching.
Are you up?
She blinked and reflexively replied with a subconscious nod before realizing what she did and swapped it for a bland mental wave.
Going through what was slowly becoming a morning routine – can you believe that? – Raven quickly got ready for the day.
When she came down, she saw the familiar scene of Taro moving deftly around in the kitchen with a can of one of the numerous drinks in his fridge in his hand.
Everything was slowly becoming familiar to her and she was beginning to love it as much as she grew to dread it.
"You good?" She felt the slowly rising concern and quickly replied with a nonchalant nod before it grew any bigger.
"Nightmares. Nothing new." Though she said that, she has never once told him about the type of nightmares she has every time she closes her eyes at night.
She wants to but she knows he wouldn't understand. No one would.
"Really?" He glanced at her from the side of his glasses and gave her a shrug. "If you say so."
Great. He saw through her lie. Again.
She sat on the countertop and watched Taro's daily ritual of preparing breakfast – another thing that was slowly becoming familiar.
"Hmm? What are these?" She picked up a couple of papers that sat at the edge of the countertop.
"Bills."
Oh yeah, bills. People pay those. She was kind of exempt from those. Perks of being her, she suppose.
'Hmm, Taro Sakamoto.' She looked at him. "Your name is Taro Sakamoto?"
"Mm. Anything of it?" He asked as he expertly mixed the bolognese sauce.
"Mhm-mm, just curious." He only had one bill unpaid and the rest were receipts. "Is that Chinese?"
"Japanese actually." The spaghetti has already been filtered and drained. He poured it into the sauce and mixed away.
She looked confused for a moment as she twiddled her thumb. "And how did you end up in Gotham?"
A certain fateful night was tremendously successful in destroying the last dregs of a good image she had of the city.
"Traveled a lot when I was young. A huge lot." He said that last part with something like a wince but Raven wasn't quite sure. "I drifted for a while in my last years until I ended up here while visiting a friend."
She hopped off the countertop and handed him two plates. She went ahead and set the table for their breakfast before he came outside. It wasn't anything fancy but it was slowly becoming familiar. And she'll take that familiarity over anything special any day.
"The city is not that bad." He said as he came out of the kitchen only to meet with her updated deadpan.
She scoffed lightly. "Not even the people who live in it will agree with you."
They finished breakfast in a comfortable shared silence, one more thing that was becoming familiar to her. The fact that she had someone that wants to wholeheartedly cook for her is something she was still coming to terms with. So not familiar yet.
"Anything new today?" She asked as she did the dishes, something she was new to but hoped it would become familiar soon.
She could picture him behind her striking up a comical thinking pose. She would have laughed to it once or twice if she could. Big boo to emotional impairment.
"I don't think so." She heard him say after some time. "As long as nothing changes, it'll just be things you are familiar with."
"Mm. No problem then." She could think about her nightmares or the looming death sentence it was foretelling later. Score for the emotionally traumatized teen. She was done with the dishes.
.
…..
.
The van was repaired. The store was stocked-full with the most miscellaneous range of goods anyone could think of in a minimart. Taro Sakamoto was satisfied.
How couldn't he be? With this move of his, the red will be all but a forgotten event.
He radiated a smug aura (Source: Raven) even as he sat neutral-faced on his chair behind the counter as he watched the few customers in his store.
"Huh? A carburetor? Do they usually sell things like these here?" Taro's eyes landed on the quietly muttering customer like laser points. "Well, I don't really care. My bike needs one." Taro smiled imperceptively.
"What the fuck? When did they start selling perukes in neighborhood marts?"
Those baffled mutterings and shock-filled exclamations were like music to Taro's ears. Each of them was like an opposing force, slowly and steadily pushing him away from the red.
"We have a few walking sticks behind the third aisle. Should I get you one?"
The red will never see this coming.
"Are you still waging a mental war with the red?" He heard Raven's silent whisper just as she finished scanning a customer's haul.
He looked at her with one of his best poker faces and slowly shook his head.
"Whatever."
He will never hold it against her. She was but a child, how can she understand just how important those figures are and how they dictate an adult's life?
Just then his phone rang and cut off his peaceful musings. It was an unknown number but when he saw the number his face hardened to something different for a brief second, something Raven failed to notice.
"Taro, your phone is ringing."
"Don't worry about it. It's probably those online marketers." He silenced the phone and let it ring off. A few seconds later it vibrated. A text just came in. He picked up the phone and deleted whatever text just came in without even reading it.
"Told you. Telemarketers."
Since they couldn't man the store while training, Taro had them closing early in the evenings so he could help Raven's training for a few hours before dinner.
Taro held a wooden ladle as he faced Raven who was levitating with her eyes closed and magic gathered around her hands.
Taro looked at himself, a rotund body with a spoon, facing off against a talented young mage with dark magic and his only ammunition was a handful of pebbles.
"I'm too old for this." He couldn't move or react like he used to when he had been younger. "Thankfully this much is enough."
"Remember. This is perfecting your control in deathly situations." He said out loud to her.
Her only response was a nod and that was all he needed.
The first pebble flew away from her before it was blasted to dust.
"A delayed instinctual reaction. Worse than a subconscious reflex or an overreaction. Dodge what you can. Defend what is optimal. Attack for a chance."
Even as his clarification echoed in his tiny basement, another pebble flew at Raven with an impressive speed, one the dark brood dodged but also counterattacked.
"You attacked in fright. Remember, control first." Another pebble flew only for her to repeat her first mistake. "Be sure of your actions, even if they are futile."
He could see her trying to retain her calm, a critical moment, and without a word he flicked up a pebble and hit it with the back of the ladle in perfect synchrony.
Raven froze even as the peddle harmlessly flew past her head and drilled into a wooden pillar.
"You froze." He remarked.
She swallowed heavily but didn't move an inch from her spot. He could see the goosebumps on her skin from where he stood. "W… what was that?"
Even if her emotions were dulled and suppressed that she hardly felt anything, her body knew when it was in danger. Good.
"An unforeseen outcome." Was his even response. "And that was your worst performance yet. Why?"
She was still stuck in the motion when her reply was blurted out in a bare murmur. "I stopped moving."
He didn't say anything more. He readied the next pebble. "Dodge, defend or attack. As long as you're in full control of the action then you're progressing."
She dodged, but it was a wide berth from what was a simple-although-deadly attack. She failed again.
"Once you get your control down, your instinct will be even sharper. Trained instinct is the byproduct of ingrained habits."
She watched her closely, never letting her fall into a pace or dwell on her reactions. He kept increasing the speed and lethality of his projections whenever she started getting her actions and emotions in control. That was why he had used the ladle to break up the rhythm she was getting into.
'She is getting it all wrong.' Taro thought as he watched Raven fail again. The goal was not safety, but control. It was fine if she got hurt or almost killed in the projections, as long as she dictated her actions. That was control.
'She's too worried about the consequences.'
Their exercise continued for the next hour with constant failure until a time where Raven avoided the demonic killing magic by simply tilting her head. It injured her projection, but she survived.
That had been the first one.
She failed a few more but her movements were becoming minimal as the minutes passed. Her movements were still exaggerated but now there was a sense of awareness in them, no matter how loose it was.
The second instance was when she sent a small sphere of magic to collide against an enchanted lunging spear. Whether her actions were correct or sufficient didn't matter at this point. As long as there was a sense of thought behind her actions other than fight or flight then she was progressing.
"That's good." He acknowledged her efforts. She truly was talented. He couldn't deny even if he wanted to.
He looked at his hands. Only two pebbles left. Two pebbles and a ladle.
How about a surprise?
He flicked the first pebble towards her and hit the other one with the ladle. The ladle-shot pebble smashed into the first pebble as Raven started her reaction only for both of them to change their trajectories by going sideways and ricocheting off the walls and coming at her from sideways.
Taro laughed good-naturedly and stopped his mental projection just before the pebbles shot at her arms.
"Your movements were interrupted mid motion. You did try to react to one of them so at least there's progress."
Raven softly landed with measured breaths and heavy perspiration on her forehead.
"You alright?" Taro was already in front of her by the time her foot touched the ground with a towel in hand that soon started wiping off her sweat.
"Mm. It's just mentally taxing. We've done this before, remember?" So far the record count for successful controls was four, something she managed a few days ago.
'Just because we've done it a few times doesn't mean it's not dangerous. I don't want to kill someone's daughter's psyche. Demonic father or not.'
After making sure she was okay, he wrapped the towel around her neck and left her to go wash up.
She opened the basement door to leave only to jump back when she saw the grey smoke that was just behind the door.
"Raven?"
"Acolytes. We're under attack." She exclaimed.
Taro's hands immediately went under a tarp and fiddled for a moment before it brought out a military-style tactical knife.
"Let's go." He said as he grabbed her hands.
"Through that?"
"Either through it or it traps us in the basement." He was already dragging her along before the sentence was completed.
The smoke was so thick that they couldn't see their hands in front of them. But that didn't bother Taro in the slightest.
Using his precise knowledge of every single corner of his house, the older man easily led her out of the house.
"They teleported us."
Well that didn't need pointing out since this looked nothing like Taro's street but more like an underground graveyard.
"Argh!" A painful groan came from Raven who was now clutching her head.
"Raven!"
"Their voices… hngh… my head. Nngh!" The pain slammed into her skull so heavily that she could barely articulate her words.
"I can hear them." The voices were getting close. Taro looked around to see that they were in some type of demonic cathedral hall and were definitely underground if the airflow and lack of windows were anything to go off on.
"They…. Argh!... Already…. Here– Nnghhh!"
He laid her on the ground that was slowly glowing. 'A magic circle. Was it for the teleportation or whatever ritual they want to do?'
"Keep trying to fight it. I'll see what I can do." He patted her reassuringly on the head, conveying what small amount of comfort he could with that little action.
'Ten acolytes. Maybe more. Possible demonic summon. A priest, the only visible high-ranking member.'
All he had was a ladle and a knife against ten sorcerers (or was it warlock?) with dark magic equal to or more experienced than Raven.
Yeah, this was way over his paygrade.
He looked at the writhing girl on the ground and his eyes hardened. She didn't deserve any of this.
He might not be anywhere near his prime but he would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to make sure she was back home by dinnertime.
The priest was his prime target but also the most dangerous one. And when it came to those who dabbled in magic, that spelt all kinds of trouble.
'First things first,' the nearest acolyte to him collided against the wall and cracked it, only for Taro's eyes to narrow dangerously when he saw that the man was still chanting their demonic language despite being knocked out.
'No choice then.' His decision was instant and its reprisal was just as swift.
The force needed to decapitate someone with an axe ranged anywhere from 70 to 100 kilograms of force(154 – 220 pounds of force).
The same was generated from a simple flick of Taro's wrist.
Taro Sakamoto gave up killing years ago so he could retire peacefully from a life casted in blood, and here he was unhesitatingly giving it all away for a strange homeless girl he met on his way home from a late birthday party.
He was no stranger to compassion and other sentiments. He was no emotionless husk. But this was the first time he felt such compassion and pity towards someone.
A clueless and hunted 15 years ago child with no one to turn to. Running ragged with the barebones of what could hardly be called a plan and a faded script of what could be called a plan.
Whether he was her father or not, or whether she was his daughter, none of them mattered. None of them deserved the other.
Trigon, be he the devil or not, did not deserve someone as innocent and frail as Raven, and neither did Raven deserve someone as terrible and sinister as the demon Trigon was for a father.
He saw the glow of the circle a catatonic Raven lay on dim a little, something that did not escape the priest and a few of the acolyte's notice.
He was running out of time.
He dodged a hex bolt that created a small tuft of dust that he used as camouflage to appear behind the nearest acolyte to his right.
The ladle held their throat from behind and forced them to rest their back necks against Taro's shoulder – an action which exposed their necks.
Two dead. Eight to go.
The glow receded and this time he was sure of his conjecture. Except that it will gradually get harder for him with the more acolytes he kills.
They couldn't chant and fight back at the same time so some of them had to pull back from chanting and focus on killing him. And like he expected, it was way harder to combat against magic as a human.
But he wasn't about to give up yet.
'They can't fly above a certain level. Probably because of the ritual. That is good to know.'
He rolled on the ground, evading two magic blasts, and wiped his glasses as he stood up.
He was in the open of the two acolytes attacking him so he raised up his hands in surrender, prompting both of them to let out dark chuckles, before pointing at Raven.
One of them was dumb enough to look at Raven in confusion and Taro took advantage of the opening. He first shot two stones towards the wiser acolyte who kept him in his sights and when that one hastily dodged and creates distance between them, Taro was already in front of the other acolyte, like a phantom, with his blade lodged to the hilt into the man's heart.
He didn't waste time looking at his third kill as he immediately went after another one.
Killing was his profession. It was something he was good at. A craft he had brought close to perfection from the time of his first kill as a fledgling teen to last kill before he retired. He was dabbling in that personalized craft once more.
He grabbed the head of a chanting acolyte that had panic-filled eyes and with a jolting tilt, the acolyte's head faced his back.
He was going for the fifth one who had a little distance between them when he felt the cold chill in the air and the ripple in his skin. He abandoned his charge and retreated but was a moment too slow as a blast of magic impacted him for the side and sent him crashing into the walls.
For a second the room was filled with only rhythmic chantings and Raven's pained groans before a chubby hand burst out of the walls and Taro Sakamoto crawled out of the hole he had created with a bleeding head and cracked glasses.
His eyes were trained on the culprit.
The priest had made his first move.
The reoccurring dream was a constant worry as it did nothing good for her. And she knows the reason why.
That accursed date was approaching.
Are you up?
She blinked and reflexively replied with a subconscious nod before realizing what she did and swapped it for a bland mental wave.
Going through what was slowly becoming a morning routine – can you believe that? – Raven quickly got ready for the day.
When she came down, she saw the familiar scene of Taro moving deftly around in the kitchen with a can of one of the numerous drinks in his fridge in his hand.
Everything was slowly becoming familiar to her and she was beginning to love it as much as she grew to dread it.
"You good?" She felt the slowly rising concern and quickly replied with a nonchalant nod before it grew any bigger.
"Nightmares. Nothing new." Though she said that, she has never once told him about the type of nightmares she has every time she closes her eyes at night.
She wants to but she knows he wouldn't understand. No one would.
"Really?" He glanced at her from the side of his glasses and gave her a shrug. "If you say so."
Great. He saw through her lie. Again.
She sat on the countertop and watched Taro's daily ritual of preparing breakfast – another thing that was slowly becoming familiar.
"Hmm? What are these?" She picked up a couple of papers that sat at the edge of the countertop.
"Bills."
Oh yeah, bills. People pay those. She was kind of exempt from those. Perks of being her, she suppose.
'Hmm, Taro Sakamoto.' She looked at him. "Your name is Taro Sakamoto?"
"Mm. Anything of it?" He asked as he expertly mixed the bolognese sauce.
"Mhm-mm, just curious." He only had one bill unpaid and the rest were receipts. "Is that Chinese?"
"Japanese actually." The spaghetti has already been filtered and drained. He poured it into the sauce and mixed away.
She looked confused for a moment as she twiddled her thumb. "And how did you end up in Gotham?"
A certain fateful night was tremendously successful in destroying the last dregs of a good image she had of the city.
"Traveled a lot when I was young. A huge lot." He said that last part with something like a wince but Raven wasn't quite sure. "I drifted for a while in my last years until I ended up here while visiting a friend."
She hopped off the countertop and handed him two plates. She went ahead and set the table for their breakfast before he came outside. It wasn't anything fancy but it was slowly becoming familiar. And she'll take that familiarity over anything special any day.
"The city is not that bad." He said as he came out of the kitchen only to meet with her updated deadpan.
She scoffed lightly. "Not even the people who live in it will agree with you."
They finished breakfast in a comfortable shared silence, one more thing that was becoming familiar to her. The fact that she had someone that wants to wholeheartedly cook for her is something she was still coming to terms with. So not familiar yet.
"Anything new today?" She asked as she did the dishes, something she was new to but hoped it would become familiar soon.
She could picture him behind her striking up a comical thinking pose. She would have laughed to it once or twice if she could. Big boo to emotional impairment.
"I don't think so." She heard him say after some time. "As long as nothing changes, it'll just be things you are familiar with."
"Mm. No problem then." She could think about her nightmares or the looming death sentence it was foretelling later. Score for the emotionally traumatized teen. She was done with the dishes.
.
…..
.
The van was repaired. The store was stocked-full with the most miscellaneous range of goods anyone could think of in a minimart. Taro Sakamoto was satisfied.
How couldn't he be? With this move of his, the red will be all but a forgotten event.
He radiated a smug aura (Source: Raven) even as he sat neutral-faced on his chair behind the counter as he watched the few customers in his store.
"Huh? A carburetor? Do they usually sell things like these here?" Taro's eyes landed on the quietly muttering customer like laser points. "Well, I don't really care. My bike needs one." Taro smiled imperceptively.
"What the fuck? When did they start selling perukes in neighborhood marts?"
Those baffled mutterings and shock-filled exclamations were like music to Taro's ears. Each of them was like an opposing force, slowly and steadily pushing him away from the red.
"We have a few walking sticks behind the third aisle. Should I get you one?"
The red will never see this coming.
"Are you still waging a mental war with the red?" He heard Raven's silent whisper just as she finished scanning a customer's haul.
He looked at her with one of his best poker faces and slowly shook his head.
"Whatever."
He will never hold it against her. She was but a child, how can she understand just how important those figures are and how they dictate an adult's life?
Just then his phone rang and cut off his peaceful musings. It was an unknown number but when he saw the number his face hardened to something different for a brief second, something Raven failed to notice.
"Taro, your phone is ringing."
"Don't worry about it. It's probably those online marketers." He silenced the phone and let it ring off. A few seconds later it vibrated. A text just came in. He picked up the phone and deleted whatever text just came in without even reading it.
"Told you. Telemarketers."
Since they couldn't man the store while training, Taro had them closing early in the evenings so he could help Raven's training for a few hours before dinner.
Taro held a wooden ladle as he faced Raven who was levitating with her eyes closed and magic gathered around her hands.
Taro looked at himself, a rotund body with a spoon, facing off against a talented young mage with dark magic and his only ammunition was a handful of pebbles.
"I'm too old for this." He couldn't move or react like he used to when he had been younger. "Thankfully this much is enough."
"Remember. This is perfecting your control in deathly situations." He said out loud to her.
Her only response was a nod and that was all he needed.
The first pebble flew away from her before it was blasted to dust.
"A delayed instinctual reaction. Worse than a subconscious reflex or an overreaction. Dodge what you can. Defend what is optimal. Attack for a chance."
Even as his clarification echoed in his tiny basement, another pebble flew at Raven with an impressive speed, one the dark brood dodged but also counterattacked.
"You attacked in fright. Remember, control first." Another pebble flew only for her to repeat her first mistake. "Be sure of your actions, even if they are futile."
He could see her trying to retain her calm, a critical moment, and without a word he flicked up a pebble and hit it with the back of the ladle in perfect synchrony.
Raven froze even as the peddle harmlessly flew past her head and drilled into a wooden pillar.
"You froze." He remarked.
She swallowed heavily but didn't move an inch from her spot. He could see the goosebumps on her skin from where he stood. "W… what was that?"
Even if her emotions were dulled and suppressed that she hardly felt anything, her body knew when it was in danger. Good.
"An unforeseen outcome." Was his even response. "And that was your worst performance yet. Why?"
She was still stuck in the motion when her reply was blurted out in a bare murmur. "I stopped moving."
He didn't say anything more. He readied the next pebble. "Dodge, defend or attack. As long as you're in full control of the action then you're progressing."
She dodged, but it was a wide berth from what was a simple-although-deadly attack. She failed again.
"Once you get your control down, your instinct will be even sharper. Trained instinct is the byproduct of ingrained habits."
She watched her closely, never letting her fall into a pace or dwell on her reactions. He kept increasing the speed and lethality of his projections whenever she started getting her actions and emotions in control. That was why he had used the ladle to break up the rhythm she was getting into.
'She is getting it all wrong.' Taro thought as he watched Raven fail again. The goal was not safety, but control. It was fine if she got hurt or almost killed in the projections, as long as she dictated her actions. That was control.
'She's too worried about the consequences.'
Their exercise continued for the next hour with constant failure until a time where Raven avoided the demonic killing magic by simply tilting her head. It injured her projection, but she survived.
That had been the first one.
She failed a few more but her movements were becoming minimal as the minutes passed. Her movements were still exaggerated but now there was a sense of awareness in them, no matter how loose it was.
The second instance was when she sent a small sphere of magic to collide against an enchanted lunging spear. Whether her actions were correct or sufficient didn't matter at this point. As long as there was a sense of thought behind her actions other than fight or flight then she was progressing.
"That's good." He acknowledged her efforts. She truly was talented. He couldn't deny even if he wanted to.
He looked at his hands. Only two pebbles left. Two pebbles and a ladle.
How about a surprise?
He flicked the first pebble towards her and hit the other one with the ladle. The ladle-shot pebble smashed into the first pebble as Raven started her reaction only for both of them to change their trajectories by going sideways and ricocheting off the walls and coming at her from sideways.
Taro laughed good-naturedly and stopped his mental projection just before the pebbles shot at her arms.
"Your movements were interrupted mid motion. You did try to react to one of them so at least there's progress."
Raven softly landed with measured breaths and heavy perspiration on her forehead.
"You alright?" Taro was already in front of her by the time her foot touched the ground with a towel in hand that soon started wiping off her sweat.
"Mm. It's just mentally taxing. We've done this before, remember?" So far the record count for successful controls was four, something she managed a few days ago.
'Just because we've done it a few times doesn't mean it's not dangerous. I don't want to kill someone's daughter's psyche. Demonic father or not.'
After making sure she was okay, he wrapped the towel around her neck and left her to go wash up.
She opened the basement door to leave only to jump back when she saw the grey smoke that was just behind the door.
"Raven?"
"Acolytes. We're under attack." She exclaimed.
Taro's hands immediately went under a tarp and fiddled for a moment before it brought out a military-style tactical knife.
"Let's go." He said as he grabbed her hands.
"Through that?"
"Either through it or it traps us in the basement." He was already dragging her along before the sentence was completed.
The smoke was so thick that they couldn't see their hands in front of them. But that didn't bother Taro in the slightest.
Using his precise knowledge of every single corner of his house, the older man easily led her out of the house.
"They teleported us."
Well that didn't need pointing out since this looked nothing like Taro's street but more like an underground graveyard.
"Argh!" A painful groan came from Raven who was now clutching her head.
"Raven!"
"Their voices… hngh… my head. Nngh!" The pain slammed into her skull so heavily that she could barely articulate her words.
"I can hear them." The voices were getting close. Taro looked around to see that they were in some type of demonic cathedral hall and were definitely underground if the airflow and lack of windows were anything to go off on.
"They…. Argh!... Already…. Here– Nnghhh!"
He laid her on the ground that was slowly glowing. 'A magic circle. Was it for the teleportation or whatever ritual they want to do?'
"Keep trying to fight it. I'll see what I can do." He patted her reassuringly on the head, conveying what small amount of comfort he could with that little action.
'Ten acolytes. Maybe more. Possible demonic summon. A priest, the only visible high-ranking member.'
All he had was a ladle and a knife against ten sorcerers (or was it warlock?) with dark magic equal to or more experienced than Raven.
Yeah, this was way over his paygrade.
He looked at the writhing girl on the ground and his eyes hardened. She didn't deserve any of this.
He might not be anywhere near his prime but he would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to make sure she was back home by dinnertime.
The priest was his prime target but also the most dangerous one. And when it came to those who dabbled in magic, that spelt all kinds of trouble.
'First things first,' the nearest acolyte to him collided against the wall and cracked it, only for Taro's eyes to narrow dangerously when he saw that the man was still chanting their demonic language despite being knocked out.
'No choice then.' His decision was instant and its reprisal was just as swift.
The force needed to decapitate someone with an axe ranged anywhere from 70 to 100 kilograms of force(154 – 220 pounds of force).
The same was generated from a simple flick of Taro's wrist.
Taro Sakamoto gave up killing years ago so he could retire peacefully from a life casted in blood, and here he was unhesitatingly giving it all away for a strange homeless girl he met on his way home from a late birthday party.
He was no stranger to compassion and other sentiments. He was no emotionless husk. But this was the first time he felt such compassion and pity towards someone.
A clueless and hunted 15 years ago child with no one to turn to. Running ragged with the barebones of what could hardly be called a plan and a faded script of what could be called a plan.
Whether he was her father or not, or whether she was his daughter, none of them mattered. None of them deserved the other.
Trigon, be he the devil or not, did not deserve someone as innocent and frail as Raven, and neither did Raven deserve someone as terrible and sinister as the demon Trigon was for a father.
He saw the glow of the circle a catatonic Raven lay on dim a little, something that did not escape the priest and a few of the acolyte's notice.
He was running out of time.
He dodged a hex bolt that created a small tuft of dust that he used as camouflage to appear behind the nearest acolyte to his right.
The ladle held their throat from behind and forced them to rest their back necks against Taro's shoulder – an action which exposed their necks.
Two dead. Eight to go.
The glow receded and this time he was sure of his conjecture. Except that it will gradually get harder for him with the more acolytes he kills.
They couldn't chant and fight back at the same time so some of them had to pull back from chanting and focus on killing him. And like he expected, it was way harder to combat against magic as a human.
But he wasn't about to give up yet.
'They can't fly above a certain level. Probably because of the ritual. That is good to know.'
He rolled on the ground, evading two magic blasts, and wiped his glasses as he stood up.
He was in the open of the two acolytes attacking him so he raised up his hands in surrender, prompting both of them to let out dark chuckles, before pointing at Raven.
One of them was dumb enough to look at Raven in confusion and Taro took advantage of the opening. He first shot two stones towards the wiser acolyte who kept him in his sights and when that one hastily dodged and creates distance between them, Taro was already in front of the other acolyte, like a phantom, with his blade lodged to the hilt into the man's heart.
He didn't waste time looking at his third kill as he immediately went after another one.
Killing was his profession. It was something he was good at. A craft he had brought close to perfection from the time of his first kill as a fledgling teen to last kill before he retired. He was dabbling in that personalized craft once more.
He grabbed the head of a chanting acolyte that had panic-filled eyes and with a jolting tilt, the acolyte's head faced his back.
He was going for the fifth one who had a little distance between them when he felt the cold chill in the air and the ripple in his skin. He abandoned his charge and retreated but was a moment too slow as a blast of magic impacted him for the side and sent him crashing into the walls.
For a second the room was filled with only rhythmic chantings and Raven's pained groans before a chubby hand burst out of the walls and Taro Sakamoto crawled out of the hole he had created with a bleeding head and cracked glasses.
His eyes were trained on the culprit.
The priest had made his first move.
Fearless444
Getting sticky.
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Thanks for the chapter
Chapter 07 - You Are Not.... The Father
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Getting out there.
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He pulled himself out of the rubble and patted himself down, wafting the clog of dust off his pants and shirt with a mildly annoyed face as he did so.
He pulled off his glasses, saw the cracks in the round rims, and even a smidgen of blood, and carefully cleaned off the dust on its surface with his shirt before putting it back on.
He kicked up the knife and ladle lying innocently near his legs and caught them in a swift motion before finally giving the priest a lot of his attention.
The chants were getting more sinister with every passing second and hearing Raven's increasing groans unsettled him more than he was okay with accepting. He had no idea what type of pain she was feeling, but those sounds let him know that it was of the awfully painful variety.
'Right. They need to die.' It was such a simple thought, albeit one that was familiar to him to what felt like a lifetime ago. And now it was all coming back.
A knife and a ladle – that was his weapons option against a party of sorcerers. He almost smiled deprecatingly at the thought.
Five acolytes and a priest. If the earlier show was any indication, then the priest was the sole bulk of the combined threat they represented. He alone was more dangerous than the other five acolytes put together.
The priest was still chanting, but there was no mistaking that he had his blackened eyes on Taro.
"Can't continue standing here, I guess." He softly muttered to himself as he switched the knife and ladle between his hands.
First things first. He had to create enough breathing space for Raven – which meant killing two or three of the acolytes, while also being under the watchful beady eyes of the priest.
They were watching him, but he knew they were wary even as they continued non stop chanting.
The first to make a move was the priest, who summoned two ghostly apparitions that lunged at Taro with deathly force.
He could feel the air turning deathly stale as they flew towards him with mouths opened in silent screams.
Spectres, or death angels like someone he knew once called them, were astral beings of warped emotions, not souls, that could phase in between material and immaterial.
'This is getting a little complicated.' The spectres were inconsequential as it was best to deal with their summoner, especially since he couldn't use magic.
Easily dodging the two angry swipes from both ghostly mirages, Taro's eyes trailed towards the priest who was in the dead centre of their chanting circle and was looking at him with an almost eager gaze.
He felt a cold chill on his back and pivoted to his left, timely dodging what looked like a grab, and also idly noting how inhumanely fast they were. He evaded their attacks two more times before noticing another red glow in the ground, entirely different from the one that held Raven, because demons – six to be exact – crawled out of this one. And they were vastly different from the previous ones he'd seen. These looked more demonic with a hint of personality to them.
He could almost feel the dark glee rolling off of them as they surrounded him, especially as whatever summoning ritual Raven was being forced into was nearing its peak. How did he know? Well, the dark baleful clouds slowly forming weren't exactly subtle.
Six strong demons, six sorcerers, two ghosts, and one traumatized girl to rescue — this wasn't exactly his day job, but he was nothing if not adaptable, even if his rough exterior suggested otherwise.
They attacked him all at once, each one practically salivating at the thought of tearing into him. He was more than happy to oblige — their frenzy made the perfect distraction to take out the sorcerers first.
His blade flew between two of the demons and lodged itself into the throat of an unsuspecting acolyte. The six demons were already upon him, each sporting four eyes and jutted-out bones on their features, and with only a ladle in his hands, he stabbed the end into the eyes of the nearest demon and applied enough force that it pierced directly into its brain, freezing its movements as it instantly died.
Two arms came at his sides, but he rolled under them with belying dexterity and kicked behind him without even looking back at the demon he smacked along the face.
The demons favored wild lunges and reckless charges, which all but put the winning chance in his favor. Grabbing some of the outstretched arms, he flung it over his shoulders towards two charging demons, grabbed another arm, and dragged the sorry demon forward, impaling it through its eyes with his ladle, effectively killing it.
The two spectres were still present but all he could do was dodge them and keep on dodging them while he focused on the other demons. They were a mild annoyance at best.
A demon grabbed onto his shoulders and wanted to take a bite at his neck but instead ate a flabby arm palm strike to its face before having its head grabbed by both horns. Before it could let out an angry growl, it was silenced by a crisp crunch that soon sent it back to hell.
As the demon slipped off Taro's hands, his fingers snagged up and caught a knife between them. The old man looked at it and nodded, pleased with himself. "I was wondering when you would give it back. Good knife."
This time, the priest attacked himself, briefly forgoing the ritual to send dark orbs that struck like lightning at Taro, who flailed comically as he narrowly dodged them while also fighting off the demons.
Another demon fell, and then another, and soon only one demon and the two spectres remained—on lying the two spectres remained as Taro grabbed the last demon, brought it down to its knees with a kick to the legs, and with a forceful jolt, broke the demon's neck backwards.
The priest looked angry at this, the air around him becoming revoltingly pungent, and as he made to act, something caught his attention – or rather, the lack of something.
The knife and ladle was nowhere to be found on Taro's body.
He had barely turned around when two thumping sounds reached his ears, turning only to see two of his acolytes dead, one with a knife straight through the head and the other with the sharpened end of a ladle sinking deep into the heart.
He turned with a furious snarl, conjuring his baleful magic around his hand only for the force of a 10-ton brick to hit him straight across the face in the form of a fist.
The priest's head snapped furiously to the side as his whole body was flung into the wall.
"Now, for the both of you..." Taro strolled towards two remaining acolytes with a lazy gait. "You heard when she was screaming in pain, right? You must have heard it because she was pretty loud."
Their chant started faltering as they were faced with the cold eyes behind round rimmed glasses staring dead point at them, invoking the primal emotion of abject fear as he came closer to them.
Taro's finger's joints popped like a firecracker as the veins and arteries around them became taut and visible.
"Shhh... You don't have to make a sound." He whispered to them, even as they became increasingly terrified of the man in front of them.
The veins wrapped around his fingers so hard like metal wires that even his clean cut nails now looked like daggers tips.
A clear reminder, one the acolytes had no idea of, that Taro was a man who had trained every part of his body to be a weapon. Not just any weapon, but the most efficient weapon for killing.
His hands travelled in a blur, a whiplash effect that left two heads sliding off their necks in a smooth sail.
He released a deep foggy breath and dialled his thoughts down, not to zero but to somewhere clear enough.
Raven's labored breath reminded him of her current situation and I'm the blink of an eye he was by her side, softly holding her head up and checking for her pulse and temperature.
"N…not…..yet."
"Just rest up, okay? I'll take care of it in a minute."
She tried shaking her head but he held her still. "D…don't….please.."
"Shh." She shushed her softly, combing her sweat-soaked hair out of her face. "We'll be back in time for dinner. Promise."
Whatever ritual it was that they did with her seemed to have siphoned everything fuel out of her body, magic and otherwise. And what made Taro even more worried was that despite the ritual having ended, the eerie chill in the air was still present and even growing in intensity.
"Foolish mortal. Nothing on this plane of existence can prevent his descent. Nothing." The priest stepped out of the rubble with a fervent flame smoldering in his eyes as his gaze landed on Raven cradled in Taro's arms.
"Why fight the inevitable when all that lies behind that door is eternal damnation…" the priest's hands spread out as a rapturous gleam took over his face. "But with Lord Trigon, we will be eternally counted as his emissary. Worlds, planets, dimensions unknown… all will be his for the taking. And we? We will be the ones to herald his coming."
"And to that end, he has blessed me with a boon." His gaze fell on Taro and what had been blackened eyes were now two pairs of darkened irises.
An aura of death and decay wrapped around him like a garment as his features slowly grew more demonic.
The air felt like parchment to Taro's lungs as the weight of the priest's presence fell on him.
Still he stood unfazed in front of Raven, standing between her and what felt like the prelude to certain death.
At the very least, the spectres were gone.
"A minute." Taro said as he cracked his neck.
The demonic priest looked at him in silent confusion.
"A minute of my time is all you'll have." He clarified.
A dark snarl, maybe a growl even, escaped from the mouth of the priest.
The precept of a smirk almost tugged Taro's lips as the internal map in his head was completed. Now, as long as he kept his senses open and wide, he could fight in this space with his eyes closed.
The retrieved kinds and ladle flipped from hand to hand as he walked calmly towards the priest.
"You disrupted our evening." He served down and dodged ghostly skulls that seemed to suck in everything they touched.
"You abducted us without our consent." A hexbolt flew past his head, one he had time to dodge at the last second to buy a second of delay from the priest.
The priest started another spell—
"Worst of all: you made her cry."
For a moment, the priest's eyes wavered – or was it that the man in front of him blurred? Honestly he didn't know – and his breath seized. Not in the way that it did when he commune with his dark lord, no. It seized in the way that something was actively stopping him from breathing.
His beady eyes spun inside their sockets, all pointing in four different directions and giving him four different spinning points of views.
Something rocked his head. Something strong. Something heavy. His brain jolted.
What was happening? His thoughts slowed down for a second, more than a second even, before it started catching up to him.
Right. Lord Trigon. His precious spawn. A fat old morbid man. The thoughts were jumbled into each other's strings that made it hard to form something coherent—
"Gahckk!" Everything came to him at once as soon as something cracked into his chest with the force of a medieval battering ram.
In desperation and horror, he swung his left hand forwards with the raw force of magic, only for the lack of feedback from said arm to flow into his brain.
Right. He was so silly sometimes. He must have lost his arm some time ago. Well, he couldn't be blamed since everything felt so woozy all of a sudden.
"Ack!" Spittle flew out of his mouth as a foot caught him under heel and broke something.
He felt a hand grab his head but at this point he couldn't really tell as everything kept moving in concentric circles.
"Wai–" It came like an epiphany to him, but at that moment he suddenly knew how eating one's own words tasted like. His pride wouldn't let him beg to keep his life, but his condition did.
Alas, whatever he tried to say was shoved directly into his stomach. His desperation and creeping fear brought him to the edge.
As one of the priest's of the Dark Lord, he was well acquainted with death. To him, death was nothing more than the begging to true glory. He craved it. He craved the glorious day when his lord finally decides for him to be called over.
But this… this wasn't death. This was the eternal chasm that existed between the mortal coil and sweet release. And a part of his broken mind whispered. 'Can you make the jump?'. But he knew the answer: no, he couldn't.
The chasm will swallow him whole before he could land on the precipice of his craved death.
And his fear and desperation, he called om everything he could. Everything he was.
"Die!—"
Suddenly the scene around him changed. It was a scene most familiar to him. Of tortured souls and weeping faces. An endless sea of the damned in a lake of fire, death, and despair.
"Don't bother. You're dead." A deathly voice whispered with dreadful clarity into his ears. "And Lord Trigon no longer has use for you."
As he was dragged down into death and eternal despair, by baleful hands and boney claws, he couldn't help but feel thankful for a moment before the eternal torture started.
Ahh, o sweet death. How sweet indeed.
.
……
.
Taro watched with dispassionate eyes as the head priest finally faded to dust. At least they were good at cleaning up after themselves, instead of stressing him on how to hide or bury the bodies.
In the blink of an eye he was right by Raven's side and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was just out of it in a normal way.
Gently, he scooped her up into his arms and turned to leave the crypt when he noticed that the fog that had permeated the place was now conjugating a few feet away from him.
The first thing he felt when he saw those red eyes that tore through the fog was the certainty of death, and the futility of life. Why bother living when the end result was that?
His breath stilled for a moment and his eyes contracted. He finally got a hold of himself. That thing was dangerous. In fact, calling it dangerous was vastly underestimating whatever it was.
"So you are the mortal that took away with my spawn. How daring?"
"And you're the failed excuse of her father. How disappointing." Taro replied, holding Raven tighter to himself. "And if you didn't get the information, you're her father no longer."
A devilish grin came upon the face in the fog as it drew closer to Taro. "Oh? I see. Marvelous. Those emotions, yes they will do. Care for her mortal. Care for her with all you can. With all you are, because then, and only then, will the casting down be worth it."
It laughed. A dreadful sound to all who heard it and slowly started dissolving, but not before looking at Taro and Raven and smiling even wider.
"Yes indeed. It will all be worth it." And with those clearly ominous words, Trigon the Terrible was gone from the mortal plane. For now.
Taro released his breath and the tension in his muscles slowly peeled away. Magic was so not his forte. Maybe, just maybe, he really might have to pick those missed calls.
With Raven in his hands he started making his way out of the crypt.
Damned wizards and their dreary crypts.
.
…..
.
In an unmarked island in the Northern Sea, one where shadows remained and shadows were adrift, a woman walked through the darkened halls with the grace of cold steel. And behind her, followed a man clad in armor, Deathstroke.
At the end of the hall was a huge door that opened on its own accord to beckon them on.
"Lady Shiva, Slade. He awaits you." A voice of velvet and deep poison said from behind them, and from the shadows cast by the doors stepped out Talia, Al Ghul, sired of the Demon.
In the center of the room was a section cordoned off with dark curtains that denied the silhouette of those behind them, even with the lighting around.
"What is this I hear about a lost shadow, Lady Shiva?"
"In Gotham," Lady Shiva began, "Slade came across one who I believe to be 'The Assassin'."
"Is that so?"
Even without a visual cue, Slade knew he was the one being asked.
He shrugged a little. "I've heard of 'The Assassin', I mean, who hasn't? And if he was anything like that damned fatso, then I'll have no choice but to believe some of his ridiculous workings I've heard of."
Ra's Al Ghul chuckled. "Hear me, Slade. All what you've heard of, are mere tales compared to who he was. You said you met him in Gotham?"
"Yes." Slade replied. "He was with a girl. One that can use magic. His daughter perhaps."
"Hmm, most interesting." The Demon hummed. "And did you complete your task in Gotham?"
This time Slade clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. "The Bat interfered."
"Well, but of course he would. The Detective wouldn't let unwelcomed elements run amok his city, but no matter."
"What about him? We'll hardly find him if he's actively hiding." Lady Shiva asked, staring directly at Ra's eyes through the curtains.
A beat of silence passed before Ra's voice came back. "If we can't, then we'll leave it to someone who can. I reckon the Detective will be more than happy to do our work for us."
He pulled off his glasses, saw the cracks in the round rims, and even a smidgen of blood, and carefully cleaned off the dust on its surface with his shirt before putting it back on.
He kicked up the knife and ladle lying innocently near his legs and caught them in a swift motion before finally giving the priest a lot of his attention.
The chants were getting more sinister with every passing second and hearing Raven's increasing groans unsettled him more than he was okay with accepting. He had no idea what type of pain she was feeling, but those sounds let him know that it was of the awfully painful variety.
'Right. They need to die.' It was such a simple thought, albeit one that was familiar to him to what felt like a lifetime ago. And now it was all coming back.
A knife and a ladle – that was his weapons option against a party of sorcerers. He almost smiled deprecatingly at the thought.
Five acolytes and a priest. If the earlier show was any indication, then the priest was the sole bulk of the combined threat they represented. He alone was more dangerous than the other five acolytes put together.
The priest was still chanting, but there was no mistaking that he had his blackened eyes on Taro.
"Can't continue standing here, I guess." He softly muttered to himself as he switched the knife and ladle between his hands.
First things first. He had to create enough breathing space for Raven – which meant killing two or three of the acolytes, while also being under the watchful beady eyes of the priest.
They were watching him, but he knew they were wary even as they continued non stop chanting.
The first to make a move was the priest, who summoned two ghostly apparitions that lunged at Taro with deathly force.
He could feel the air turning deathly stale as they flew towards him with mouths opened in silent screams.
Spectres, or death angels like someone he knew once called them, were astral beings of warped emotions, not souls, that could phase in between material and immaterial.
'This is getting a little complicated.' The spectres were inconsequential as it was best to deal with their summoner, especially since he couldn't use magic.
Easily dodging the two angry swipes from both ghostly mirages, Taro's eyes trailed towards the priest who was in the dead centre of their chanting circle and was looking at him with an almost eager gaze.
He felt a cold chill on his back and pivoted to his left, timely dodging what looked like a grab, and also idly noting how inhumanely fast they were. He evaded their attacks two more times before noticing another red glow in the ground, entirely different from the one that held Raven, because demons – six to be exact – crawled out of this one. And they were vastly different from the previous ones he'd seen. These looked more demonic with a hint of personality to them.
He could almost feel the dark glee rolling off of them as they surrounded him, especially as whatever summoning ritual Raven was being forced into was nearing its peak. How did he know? Well, the dark baleful clouds slowly forming weren't exactly subtle.
Six strong demons, six sorcerers, two ghosts, and one traumatized girl to rescue — this wasn't exactly his day job, but he was nothing if not adaptable, even if his rough exterior suggested otherwise.
They attacked him all at once, each one practically salivating at the thought of tearing into him. He was more than happy to oblige — their frenzy made the perfect distraction to take out the sorcerers first.
His blade flew between two of the demons and lodged itself into the throat of an unsuspecting acolyte. The six demons were already upon him, each sporting four eyes and jutted-out bones on their features, and with only a ladle in his hands, he stabbed the end into the eyes of the nearest demon and applied enough force that it pierced directly into its brain, freezing its movements as it instantly died.
Two arms came at his sides, but he rolled under them with belying dexterity and kicked behind him without even looking back at the demon he smacked along the face.
The demons favored wild lunges and reckless charges, which all but put the winning chance in his favor. Grabbing some of the outstretched arms, he flung it over his shoulders towards two charging demons, grabbed another arm, and dragged the sorry demon forward, impaling it through its eyes with his ladle, effectively killing it.
The two spectres were still present but all he could do was dodge them and keep on dodging them while he focused on the other demons. They were a mild annoyance at best.
A demon grabbed onto his shoulders and wanted to take a bite at his neck but instead ate a flabby arm palm strike to its face before having its head grabbed by both horns. Before it could let out an angry growl, it was silenced by a crisp crunch that soon sent it back to hell.
As the demon slipped off Taro's hands, his fingers snagged up and caught a knife between them. The old man looked at it and nodded, pleased with himself. "I was wondering when you would give it back. Good knife."
This time, the priest attacked himself, briefly forgoing the ritual to send dark orbs that struck like lightning at Taro, who flailed comically as he narrowly dodged them while also fighting off the demons.
Another demon fell, and then another, and soon only one demon and the two spectres remained—on lying the two spectres remained as Taro grabbed the last demon, brought it down to its knees with a kick to the legs, and with a forceful jolt, broke the demon's neck backwards.
The priest looked angry at this, the air around him becoming revoltingly pungent, and as he made to act, something caught his attention – or rather, the lack of something.
The knife and ladle was nowhere to be found on Taro's body.
He had barely turned around when two thumping sounds reached his ears, turning only to see two of his acolytes dead, one with a knife straight through the head and the other with the sharpened end of a ladle sinking deep into the heart.
He turned with a furious snarl, conjuring his baleful magic around his hand only for the force of a 10-ton brick to hit him straight across the face in the form of a fist.
The priest's head snapped furiously to the side as his whole body was flung into the wall.
"Now, for the both of you..." Taro strolled towards two remaining acolytes with a lazy gait. "You heard when she was screaming in pain, right? You must have heard it because she was pretty loud."
Their chant started faltering as they were faced with the cold eyes behind round rimmed glasses staring dead point at them, invoking the primal emotion of abject fear as he came closer to them.
Taro's finger's joints popped like a firecracker as the veins and arteries around them became taut and visible.
"Shhh... You don't have to make a sound." He whispered to them, even as they became increasingly terrified of the man in front of them.
The veins wrapped around his fingers so hard like metal wires that even his clean cut nails now looked like daggers tips.
A clear reminder, one the acolytes had no idea of, that Taro was a man who had trained every part of his body to be a weapon. Not just any weapon, but the most efficient weapon for killing.
His hands travelled in a blur, a whiplash effect that left two heads sliding off their necks in a smooth sail.
He released a deep foggy breath and dialled his thoughts down, not to zero but to somewhere clear enough.
Raven's labored breath reminded him of her current situation and I'm the blink of an eye he was by her side, softly holding her head up and checking for her pulse and temperature.
"N…not…..yet."
"Just rest up, okay? I'll take care of it in a minute."
She tried shaking her head but he held her still. "D…don't….please.."
"Shh." She shushed her softly, combing her sweat-soaked hair out of her face. "We'll be back in time for dinner. Promise."
Whatever ritual it was that they did with her seemed to have siphoned everything fuel out of her body, magic and otherwise. And what made Taro even more worried was that despite the ritual having ended, the eerie chill in the air was still present and even growing in intensity.
"Foolish mortal. Nothing on this plane of existence can prevent his descent. Nothing." The priest stepped out of the rubble with a fervent flame smoldering in his eyes as his gaze landed on Raven cradled in Taro's arms.
"Why fight the inevitable when all that lies behind that door is eternal damnation…" the priest's hands spread out as a rapturous gleam took over his face. "But with Lord Trigon, we will be eternally counted as his emissary. Worlds, planets, dimensions unknown… all will be his for the taking. And we? We will be the ones to herald his coming."
"And to that end, he has blessed me with a boon." His gaze fell on Taro and what had been blackened eyes were now two pairs of darkened irises.
An aura of death and decay wrapped around him like a garment as his features slowly grew more demonic.
The air felt like parchment to Taro's lungs as the weight of the priest's presence fell on him.
Still he stood unfazed in front of Raven, standing between her and what felt like the prelude to certain death.
At the very least, the spectres were gone.
"A minute." Taro said as he cracked his neck.
The demonic priest looked at him in silent confusion.
"A minute of my time is all you'll have." He clarified.
A dark snarl, maybe a growl even, escaped from the mouth of the priest.
The precept of a smirk almost tugged Taro's lips as the internal map in his head was completed. Now, as long as he kept his senses open and wide, he could fight in this space with his eyes closed.
The retrieved kinds and ladle flipped from hand to hand as he walked calmly towards the priest.
"You disrupted our evening." He served down and dodged ghostly skulls that seemed to suck in everything they touched.
"You abducted us without our consent." A hexbolt flew past his head, one he had time to dodge at the last second to buy a second of delay from the priest.
The priest started another spell—
"Worst of all: you made her cry."
For a moment, the priest's eyes wavered – or was it that the man in front of him blurred? Honestly he didn't know – and his breath seized. Not in the way that it did when he commune with his dark lord, no. It seized in the way that something was actively stopping him from breathing.
His beady eyes spun inside their sockets, all pointing in four different directions and giving him four different spinning points of views.
Something rocked his head. Something strong. Something heavy. His brain jolted.
What was happening? His thoughts slowed down for a second, more than a second even, before it started catching up to him.
Right. Lord Trigon. His precious spawn. A fat old morbid man. The thoughts were jumbled into each other's strings that made it hard to form something coherent—
"Gahckk!" Everything came to him at once as soon as something cracked into his chest with the force of a medieval battering ram.
In desperation and horror, he swung his left hand forwards with the raw force of magic, only for the lack of feedback from said arm to flow into his brain.
Right. He was so silly sometimes. He must have lost his arm some time ago. Well, he couldn't be blamed since everything felt so woozy all of a sudden.
"Ack!" Spittle flew out of his mouth as a foot caught him under heel and broke something.
He felt a hand grab his head but at this point he couldn't really tell as everything kept moving in concentric circles.
"Wai–" It came like an epiphany to him, but at that moment he suddenly knew how eating one's own words tasted like. His pride wouldn't let him beg to keep his life, but his condition did.
Alas, whatever he tried to say was shoved directly into his stomach. His desperation and creeping fear brought him to the edge.
As one of the priest's of the Dark Lord, he was well acquainted with death. To him, death was nothing more than the begging to true glory. He craved it. He craved the glorious day when his lord finally decides for him to be called over.
But this… this wasn't death. This was the eternal chasm that existed between the mortal coil and sweet release. And a part of his broken mind whispered. 'Can you make the jump?'. But he knew the answer: no, he couldn't.
The chasm will swallow him whole before he could land on the precipice of his craved death.
And his fear and desperation, he called om everything he could. Everything he was.
"Die!—"
Suddenly the scene around him changed. It was a scene most familiar to him. Of tortured souls and weeping faces. An endless sea of the damned in a lake of fire, death, and despair.
"Don't bother. You're dead." A deathly voice whispered with dreadful clarity into his ears. "And Lord Trigon no longer has use for you."
As he was dragged down into death and eternal despair, by baleful hands and boney claws, he couldn't help but feel thankful for a moment before the eternal torture started.
Ahh, o sweet death. How sweet indeed.
.
……
.
Taro watched with dispassionate eyes as the head priest finally faded to dust. At least they were good at cleaning up after themselves, instead of stressing him on how to hide or bury the bodies.
In the blink of an eye he was right by Raven's side and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was just out of it in a normal way.
Gently, he scooped her up into his arms and turned to leave the crypt when he noticed that the fog that had permeated the place was now conjugating a few feet away from him.
The first thing he felt when he saw those red eyes that tore through the fog was the certainty of death, and the futility of life. Why bother living when the end result was that?
His breath stilled for a moment and his eyes contracted. He finally got a hold of himself. That thing was dangerous. In fact, calling it dangerous was vastly underestimating whatever it was.
"So you are the mortal that took away with my spawn. How daring?"
"And you're the failed excuse of her father. How disappointing." Taro replied, holding Raven tighter to himself. "And if you didn't get the information, you're her father no longer."
A devilish grin came upon the face in the fog as it drew closer to Taro. "Oh? I see. Marvelous. Those emotions, yes they will do. Care for her mortal. Care for her with all you can. With all you are, because then, and only then, will the casting down be worth it."
It laughed. A dreadful sound to all who heard it and slowly started dissolving, but not before looking at Taro and Raven and smiling even wider.
"Yes indeed. It will all be worth it." And with those clearly ominous words, Trigon the Terrible was gone from the mortal plane. For now.
Taro released his breath and the tension in his muscles slowly peeled away. Magic was so not his forte. Maybe, just maybe, he really might have to pick those missed calls.
With Raven in his hands he started making his way out of the crypt.
Damned wizards and their dreary crypts.
.
…..
.
In an unmarked island in the Northern Sea, one where shadows remained and shadows were adrift, a woman walked through the darkened halls with the grace of cold steel. And behind her, followed a man clad in armor, Deathstroke.
At the end of the hall was a huge door that opened on its own accord to beckon them on.
"Lady Shiva, Slade. He awaits you." A voice of velvet and deep poison said from behind them, and from the shadows cast by the doors stepped out Talia, Al Ghul, sired of the Demon.
In the center of the room was a section cordoned off with dark curtains that denied the silhouette of those behind them, even with the lighting around.
"What is this I hear about a lost shadow, Lady Shiva?"
"In Gotham," Lady Shiva began, "Slade came across one who I believe to be 'The Assassin'."
"Is that so?"
Even without a visual cue, Slade knew he was the one being asked.
He shrugged a little. "I've heard of 'The Assassin', I mean, who hasn't? And if he was anything like that damned fatso, then I'll have no choice but to believe some of his ridiculous workings I've heard of."
Ra's Al Ghul chuckled. "Hear me, Slade. All what you've heard of, are mere tales compared to who he was. You said you met him in Gotham?"
"Yes." Slade replied. "He was with a girl. One that can use magic. His daughter perhaps."
"Hmm, most interesting." The Demon hummed. "And did you complete your task in Gotham?"
This time Slade clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. "The Bat interfered."
"Well, but of course he would. The Detective wouldn't let unwelcomed elements run amok his city, but no matter."
"What about him? We'll hardly find him if he's actively hiding." Lady Shiva asked, staring directly at Ra's eyes through the curtains.
A beat of silence passed before Ra's voice came back. "If we can't, then we'll leave it to someone who can. I reckon the Detective will be more than happy to do our work for us."
dazzle_dork
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
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huh, so the calls were from someone with the connection to magical circle. I thought it was Shiva, but she doesnt seem that close to Taro
ghostmaker00
Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?
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I love this fusion with Nakamoto Days and DC. It actually gives more focus and through line to the Nakamoto Days part of the story to have him take a parent role to our other protagonist whereas in the original manga it meanders. But here we have A very focused narrative.
Chapter 08 - Going on a Road Trip
New
Depth_
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2025
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Raven's eyes fluttered open drowsily, only for her sense organs to be bombarded with an influx of sensations that her waking brain wasn't conscious enough to process.
Bright and excruciatingly intense light bore into her eyes and pierced through it to the nerves behind with the unrelenting sharpness of a surgical needle.
Air and smoke filled her lungs so fast that it expanded to its limits and froze mid-action. The inaction of her brain almost made her suffocate with how her lungs had tensed like a taut muscle.
The world around her spurn, turned and tumbled. Her skin felt unbearably hot and frigidly cold, and also a sensation of grave discomfort that neither her skin nor brain could express nor interpret.
Her mouth held open in a gasp and the organ there was besieged with the taste of fumes, smoke, salty rain, chemicals, burning sand and ash.
The sound... It was the worst of it all. Every whisper, shout, madden rage, screech of spinning wheels as well as that of tortured souls. Booms, thuds, vibrations and every kaleidoscope of chaos that could fit into the auditory spectrum, like a barbarian at the prospect of violence, attacked her ears unforgivingly and pushed her already wailing brain to its final limit that it forced her body to shut down.
The physical body of Raven was in such a physical mess that her brain enacted a forced stop on her entire bodily system, leaving only the barest minimum needed to keep her alive active.
At the very least the nightmares and the spiritual attacks, something the physical brain couldn't exactly comprehend, had stopped.
Despite all this, it could hear a sinister laugh echoing through every crevice of its dome, and no matter how much and how far it pushed it away, it still remained.
.
.......
.
The wind blew kindly against Raven's face and gently prodded her away. She winced a little as the soft rays of the evening sun slowly energized her eyes.
"Ughh..."
Her throat felt as parched as desert sand and her whole body felt heavy, as if she was drowning in oil with rocks tied to every limb. Her mind felt so slow and distant that even her limbs were reacting seconds later than the thought.
Her eyelids felt like they were filled with litres of water, so heavy and sleepy, that all she wanted to do was keep them close and fall back into the lulling sleep beckoning.
"...aven. D..n't fall asl..p." The words were garbled and felt foreign but strangely her brain held tight to it and kept it repeating in her head until her thoughts started clearing.
"Raven, listen to me. Don't fall asleep. Keep trying to stay awake."
It took a few seconds before she realized what those words meant, and more importantly who they were coming from.
"... Taro.." Her whisper came out in a slow jevay groan.
Like magic, the moment the recognition of his name came to her, the weight on her thoughts started clearing up and her limbs started reacting accordingly.
"Taro." She said again, this time sounding more sure and conscious.
"Hey, little one. You almost gave this old man a scare." Taro was dutifully at her side, fingers poking at her to feel her pulse, as well as the condition of her nerves and joints. "You were wading in murky waters for a while. Good that I still know some helpful first aid."
He guided a cup to her lips, helping her gently take in small sips at a time.
Raven crashed back on the soft mattress, finally being able to breathe and speak well.
"What happened?" She asked when she finally realized she was in an unfamiliar room. "Where are we?" Even though her mind had cleared up, the phantom headaches that floated around her head prevented her thoughts from venturing too far.
"We're still in Gotham. And obviously not at home." Taro said with the hint of a sarcastic cheer in his voice, or maybe that was just Raven's mind still trying to accurately process the nuance of speech.
"I can't take you back in your current state and the house is already compromised. Laying low and getting you on your feet was more important. Especially as you kept phasing in and out of consciousness."
"Mn." She replied with an absentminded nod. She looked at her hands and raised one to slowly massage her head. She knew she should be off worse than she currently was based on the remnant sensations she could feel on every inch of her body.
That ritual had not been exactly forgiving. Well, it was from her progenitor so it kinda checked out.
Her mind recalled what he said a couple moments ago and couldn't help but ask. "You said first aid. What kind of first aid helps both the body and mind, and revitalizes the spirit?"
Taro pointed at the table at the other edge of the room. On it were glass suction cups, some oils, wool and an incense stick that was slowly burning in waspy greenish-blue flames.
He replied evenly. "Báguàn….and acupuncture."
Raven sighed. An expression that helped greatly in bleeding out some of the excess tension in her body.
"I don't even have the energy to be curious about that."
She could see Taro's eyes smiling behind his big round glasses. The faint amusement in his eyes were...grounding, if nothing else. It gave her the hope that not much had changed.
"What happened?" She asked again, tentatively.
Taro exhaled and sat at the edge of the bed. "They're dead. The acolytes and the priest." He proved his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, making Raven finally see the crease around his eyes. They were old and tired. They felt... Forlorn.
He put the glasses back on and looked at her, the smile in his eyes still present. She could tell.
"I don't like killing, little one. It's an art I mastered but I don't have any deep sentiments for it. It's something I'd given up for years. Something I'd conditioned myself not to pick up again."
She could tell – see even – that he was telling the truth, and the raw honesty made Raven suddenly feel her throat go dry, because ever since that night where he killed those demons, and the two times that followed, she never felt it from him.
"You never hesitated." She whispered the statement as if asking it. "Not even once."
"Why?"
Taro's big hands came to her head and brushed over her bangs comfortingly. "I don't know." He said softly.
"Or maybe, at that moment I saw something more important than my own words, I don't really know. But it doesn't matter."
Raven closed her eyes and subconsciously relaxed under the comfort of the hand on her head.
"Thank you." She said softly, once more cursing her impaired emotions at how dry and empty her words of gratitude sounded.
"It's alright." She heard Taro say. His words sounded consoling as if he knew and completely understood her plight. "Just rest for now. We'll start moving when that glare of yours comes back." He joked, to which she gave a very weak deadpan.
"See?"
.
......
.
[The Underground Crypt]
The dead air in the crypt shifted as shadows crept around in its darkness, almost as if it was welcoming them as fellow dwellers in the dark and dreary.
A soft crunch of boots echoed softly in the broken crypt that sent the shadows running away.
"Yep. The cause of the tremor definitely originated from here." A dry voice spoke in a bland tone that failed to hide the youthfulness of its speaker.
At the silent beckoning of the dark, the voice complied and spoke again.
"A couple of people fought here. Opposing groups maybe. Some kind of intense fire power was thrown around – not explosive in nature given the absence of burnt marks and charred rocks. Advanced tech maybe? That's worrying. And see those cracks over there? Impact point. Whoever did that definitely wasn't from the lightweight class."
The voice trailed off at the end, remained silent for a few seconds, and started up again from the other side of the crypt.
"See this? More recurring patterns. My conclusion is that one group had more firepower than the other, and also more numbers, and the other group with lesser numbers were all physical in their attacks. A classic case of power and technique. As for their numbers, between eight and a dozen against two or three guys."
Silence came back to the crypt as the dry voice finished speaking and waited for a reply, one that even the darkness seemed to hold its breath for.
"You missed the footprint patterns. Inconsistent. Explains greater mobility. Fast but short strides. Acute movement techniques, shows skill. Inconsistent but accurate patterns, shows greater skill and premeditated intent." The air froze and the darkness probably shivered in fright when they heard that voice behind them.
"The bigger group. More inconsistent footprints."
"Shows greater mobility." The other voice interjected timely.
"No uniformity in the prints. Greater leap strength. Faster and longer strides. Better technology suggests better mobility means. Hover tech, flight or even short-range spatial displacement. All will be considered."
The voice disappeared and the younger voice, the air, and probably even the darkness, waited with bated breaths for the next time it would speak.
"Precise estimated count for the bigger group. Correction for the count of the smaller party. Individual. Single party against a group of heavily armed individuals with advanced weaponry, or otherwise."
"Otherwise?" The younger dry voice questioned.
"Wrong patterns for concussive blasts, lasers, and most energy-powered weaponry. Unknown and exoteric means are taken into consideration. All individuals involved are either enhanced or of great physicality."
The darkness finally released the air it was holding and they both breathed out as the voice went silent.
As if receiving a cue from the silence, the younger voice spoke out again. "Cause for tremor: more likely an action of the bigger group for currently unclear reasons. Might have been out of desperation, strategically carried out, or an uncontrolled outcome of the fight. The state of the crypt suggests what was already a suspicion: the tremor was not completely seismic in nature. A clear evidence being the current state of the room."
"You are improving. But your haste for a conclusion tunnels your reasoning and awareness."
The lightness in the air and the oppressing presence that no longer lingered in the midst of darkness was a tell-tale sign that the voice was gone... Or maybe not? They both shivered at the thought.
All they could do was console the owner of the younger dry voice. They knew just how hard and nerve-wracking it was to deal with that voice everyday.
.
.......
.
Two days passed and Raven was finally free of all the mental and spiritual effects the ritual had on her.
Her mental walls were up and strong as they had always been, but still she couldn't be entirely sure.
She was certain that the ritual had done more than just weaken the barrier around her mind. The same barrier that stopped Trigon from outrightly possessing her body and stepping into the mortal plane.
She had scanned her mind, down to its deepest nook and cranny, even visiting thoughts she never wanted to think of, but still she couldn't find anything of Trigon's machinations in her mind, magic, or even her astral body – other than what was already there – and the lack of answers unsettled her more.
They were currently in one of Taro's safe houses, the revelation of which had Raven staring unblinking at Taro, before she remembered that, yeah, the old pudgy man wasn't just a simple shopkeeper in Gotham.
"What now?" Raven asked after her daily meditation.
Taro scratched his chin, or at least the ball of flesh he called one, was Raven's idle thought on seeing him resting on the bigger couch with a can of tropical juice in his hands.
"I don't think we can stay in Gotham anymore." She said slowly, knowing why she was asking. That he left his home behind and came with her.
The fact that he had already saved her three times spoke loudly on the budding trust she had of him.
He could take care of himself, he had shown that three times over. But now she wasn't so sure about herself. The ritual was still on her mind and she didn't want to think of what would happen if they got to her next time and she couldn't fight them off or escape in time.
"You said the Justice League could help, right?" Taro asked, and she nodded in reply.
"I doubt we'll be able to smoke out the Batman in time." Taro muttered to himself thoughtfully.
Raven sat beside him with a glass of water in hand. "In time for what?"
"Remember those assassins?"
She gave him a blank stare as she sensed the soft waft of mild irritation and disgruntlement from him when he mentioned the assassins.
"It wouldn't bode well for either of us if they tracked us down. I have some history with them, and while Deathstroke might not have recognized me, he's currently with people who might. I look differently from how I used to, but that wouldn't exactly stop them."
The irritation spiked around him but not for long as he blew it away, quite literally at that.
"So assassins might come after you soon." She stated blandly. "And demons and crazed acolytes will definitely come after me. So we leave Gotham?"
He nodded. The casual way he sat fully into the chair showed perfectly an unbothered image, one that Raven knew most elderly people carried around them. Taro was an aged adult in his mid-to-late forties, not quite yet an elderly but he already carried himself like one.
"Mn."
He fixed the temple of his glasses and pressed them down to sit steadily on his nose. "Gotham has a lot of eyes and someone is bound to know when someone is baiting out the Bat."
"What if he finds us first?" She couldn't help but ask, knowing what little she did of the fear factor that came with that particular hero's presence, but Taro simply gave a nonchalant shrug.
"Good for us if he does. Bad for us if he does." He simply retorted. "Nothing changes. We still have to leave Gotham. Preferably soon, or immediately."
Now this was different. Granted, she has not yet known Taro for even a month, but the impression he gave her, and they were all pretty strong impressions, was one of an old man who remains perpetually calm and unhurried.
'Well, they are assassins, so I can understand the haste.'
"How much trouble are they?" And wasn't that a new discovery? Her, Raven, potential herald of Doom and Armageddon, more interested in someone else's affairs for a change.
And here he goes again, casually dismissing the prospect of a horde of hunting assassins with a noncommittal wave of his hands.
"More trouble than they should be worth." He threw the can over his head and it landed on the dining table and fell, spilling its content.
"You made a mess." She pointed out dryly.
He stood up and walked towards his room, not bothering to look at the mess he made. "I know."
She wanted to give a biting retort but held her tongue as his door closed shut. She took her empty glass and walked towards the table to clean up the clumsy old man's mess when she saw the two plates on the table.
One had leftover crumbs from fully eaten pancakes and the other had half eaten pancakes, and even the fork was on the floor.
She was confused, knowing for one that Taro always made sure food on the table was fully eaten, and for second, that they didn't eat pancakes.
She wanted to ask but she felt the flash of a thought as the answer came to the front of her mind.
A staged scene.
Looking at it now, even the canned drink he threw laid spilled near the empty plate.
"Let's leave." He came out of his room with a change of clothes and a baseball cap on his head that looked comical.
There was a nondescript car at the back of the building they had stayed at, one Raven knew wasn't there yesterday but said nothing as she got in and they drove away.
"Where exactly are we going?" She asked. "And why couldn't I just open a portal for us?"
"You said you weren't exactly sure if they were locking into your location with every portal you took, right?" He asked and she gave him a simple 'yes' in reply. "Then it's a risk we can't willingly take unless we have no other choice."
He twisted his mouth under the shade of his moustache and gave out one of his silent disgruntled huffs.
The twisting of his mouth and his content in silence let Raven know that he suddenly realized he had been talking a lot more than usual these past few days and was about to move into his shell of nods, single answers and projecting intent. As if she would let him off that easily. If she was speaking more then he would too!
"So where to? Metropolis?"
An imperceptible frown came upon his face when she mentioned the city, a reaction she was seeing for the first time.
"You don't like the alien?"
He shook his head and relaxed into his seat, driving casually with one hand steering the wheels. "Nothing like that. Unimportant."
She kept staring, giving him her so-called trademarked deadpan glare until he relented and gave her his own limited edition fed up groan.
"Across states. Washington D.C. The League Headquarters, the Hall of Justice."
Raven pressed herself against the window of the car and watched as the road outside ran past them.
"So we're taking the long route to their front doors? Well, it's not as if we could seek out Superman in Metropolis anymore than we could Batman in Gotham."
They drove in silence, Raven watching the world race past them and finding herself enjoying the normalcy of it for the first time without the pressure of Trigon's impending descent snuffing out the tiniest pleasure out of everything in her life.
"Taro, I..." Words formed on her tongue but felt like lumps of stone in her throat. The words she wanted to speak were too heavy for her, so she said something instead. "Whatever happens, to me, to you, to everyone – I'm glad to have met you."
At the end, Rachel Roth was a girl who could not speak out what she wanted. And Raven was a girl who wouldn't dare dream of more, refused to even, because she was deathly scared of what more would mean.
Bright and excruciatingly intense light bore into her eyes and pierced through it to the nerves behind with the unrelenting sharpness of a surgical needle.
Air and smoke filled her lungs so fast that it expanded to its limits and froze mid-action. The inaction of her brain almost made her suffocate with how her lungs had tensed like a taut muscle.
The world around her spurn, turned and tumbled. Her skin felt unbearably hot and frigidly cold, and also a sensation of grave discomfort that neither her skin nor brain could express nor interpret.
Her mouth held open in a gasp and the organ there was besieged with the taste of fumes, smoke, salty rain, chemicals, burning sand and ash.
The sound... It was the worst of it all. Every whisper, shout, madden rage, screech of spinning wheels as well as that of tortured souls. Booms, thuds, vibrations and every kaleidoscope of chaos that could fit into the auditory spectrum, like a barbarian at the prospect of violence, attacked her ears unforgivingly and pushed her already wailing brain to its final limit that it forced her body to shut down.
The physical body of Raven was in such a physical mess that her brain enacted a forced stop on her entire bodily system, leaving only the barest minimum needed to keep her alive active.
At the very least the nightmares and the spiritual attacks, something the physical brain couldn't exactly comprehend, had stopped.
Despite all this, it could hear a sinister laugh echoing through every crevice of its dome, and no matter how much and how far it pushed it away, it still remained.
.
.......
.
The wind blew kindly against Raven's face and gently prodded her away. She winced a little as the soft rays of the evening sun slowly energized her eyes.
"Ughh..."
Her throat felt as parched as desert sand and her whole body felt heavy, as if she was drowning in oil with rocks tied to every limb. Her mind felt so slow and distant that even her limbs were reacting seconds later than the thought.
Her eyelids felt like they were filled with litres of water, so heavy and sleepy, that all she wanted to do was keep them close and fall back into the lulling sleep beckoning.
"...aven. D..n't fall asl..p." The words were garbled and felt foreign but strangely her brain held tight to it and kept it repeating in her head until her thoughts started clearing.
"Raven, listen to me. Don't fall asleep. Keep trying to stay awake."
It took a few seconds before she realized what those words meant, and more importantly who they were coming from.
"... Taro.." Her whisper came out in a slow jevay groan.
Like magic, the moment the recognition of his name came to her, the weight on her thoughts started clearing up and her limbs started reacting accordingly.
"Taro." She said again, this time sounding more sure and conscious.
"Hey, little one. You almost gave this old man a scare." Taro was dutifully at her side, fingers poking at her to feel her pulse, as well as the condition of her nerves and joints. "You were wading in murky waters for a while. Good that I still know some helpful first aid."
He guided a cup to her lips, helping her gently take in small sips at a time.
Raven crashed back on the soft mattress, finally being able to breathe and speak well.
"What happened?" She asked when she finally realized she was in an unfamiliar room. "Where are we?" Even though her mind had cleared up, the phantom headaches that floated around her head prevented her thoughts from venturing too far.
"We're still in Gotham. And obviously not at home." Taro said with the hint of a sarcastic cheer in his voice, or maybe that was just Raven's mind still trying to accurately process the nuance of speech.
"I can't take you back in your current state and the house is already compromised. Laying low and getting you on your feet was more important. Especially as you kept phasing in and out of consciousness."
"Mn." She replied with an absentminded nod. She looked at her hands and raised one to slowly massage her head. She knew she should be off worse than she currently was based on the remnant sensations she could feel on every inch of her body.
That ritual had not been exactly forgiving. Well, it was from her progenitor so it kinda checked out.
Her mind recalled what he said a couple moments ago and couldn't help but ask. "You said first aid. What kind of first aid helps both the body and mind, and revitalizes the spirit?"
Taro pointed at the table at the other edge of the room. On it were glass suction cups, some oils, wool and an incense stick that was slowly burning in waspy greenish-blue flames.
He replied evenly. "Báguàn….and acupuncture."
Raven sighed. An expression that helped greatly in bleeding out some of the excess tension in her body.
"I don't even have the energy to be curious about that."
She could see Taro's eyes smiling behind his big round glasses. The faint amusement in his eyes were...grounding, if nothing else. It gave her the hope that not much had changed.
"What happened?" She asked again, tentatively.
Taro exhaled and sat at the edge of the bed. "They're dead. The acolytes and the priest." He proved his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, making Raven finally see the crease around his eyes. They were old and tired. They felt... Forlorn.
He put the glasses back on and looked at her, the smile in his eyes still present. She could tell.
"I don't like killing, little one. It's an art I mastered but I don't have any deep sentiments for it. It's something I'd given up for years. Something I'd conditioned myself not to pick up again."
She could tell – see even – that he was telling the truth, and the raw honesty made Raven suddenly feel her throat go dry, because ever since that night where he killed those demons, and the two times that followed, she never felt it from him.
"You never hesitated." She whispered the statement as if asking it. "Not even once."
"Why?"
Taro's big hands came to her head and brushed over her bangs comfortingly. "I don't know." He said softly.
"Or maybe, at that moment I saw something more important than my own words, I don't really know. But it doesn't matter."
Raven closed her eyes and subconsciously relaxed under the comfort of the hand on her head.
"Thank you." She said softly, once more cursing her impaired emotions at how dry and empty her words of gratitude sounded.
"It's alright." She heard Taro say. His words sounded consoling as if he knew and completely understood her plight. "Just rest for now. We'll start moving when that glare of yours comes back." He joked, to which she gave a very weak deadpan.
"See?"
.
......
.
[The Underground Crypt]
The dead air in the crypt shifted as shadows crept around in its darkness, almost as if it was welcoming them as fellow dwellers in the dark and dreary.
A soft crunch of boots echoed softly in the broken crypt that sent the shadows running away.
"Yep. The cause of the tremor definitely originated from here." A dry voice spoke in a bland tone that failed to hide the youthfulness of its speaker.
At the silent beckoning of the dark, the voice complied and spoke again.
"A couple of people fought here. Opposing groups maybe. Some kind of intense fire power was thrown around – not explosive in nature given the absence of burnt marks and charred rocks. Advanced tech maybe? That's worrying. And see those cracks over there? Impact point. Whoever did that definitely wasn't from the lightweight class."
The voice trailed off at the end, remained silent for a few seconds, and started up again from the other side of the crypt.
"See this? More recurring patterns. My conclusion is that one group had more firepower than the other, and also more numbers, and the other group with lesser numbers were all physical in their attacks. A classic case of power and technique. As for their numbers, between eight and a dozen against two or three guys."
Silence came back to the crypt as the dry voice finished speaking and waited for a reply, one that even the darkness seemed to hold its breath for.
"You missed the footprint patterns. Inconsistent. Explains greater mobility. Fast but short strides. Acute movement techniques, shows skill. Inconsistent but accurate patterns, shows greater skill and premeditated intent." The air froze and the darkness probably shivered in fright when they heard that voice behind them.
"The bigger group. More inconsistent footprints."
"Shows greater mobility." The other voice interjected timely.
"No uniformity in the prints. Greater leap strength. Faster and longer strides. Better technology suggests better mobility means. Hover tech, flight or even short-range spatial displacement. All will be considered."
The voice disappeared and the younger voice, the air, and probably even the darkness, waited with bated breaths for the next time it would speak.
"Precise estimated count for the bigger group. Correction for the count of the smaller party. Individual. Single party against a group of heavily armed individuals with advanced weaponry, or otherwise."
"Otherwise?" The younger dry voice questioned.
"Wrong patterns for concussive blasts, lasers, and most energy-powered weaponry. Unknown and exoteric means are taken into consideration. All individuals involved are either enhanced or of great physicality."
The darkness finally released the air it was holding and they both breathed out as the voice went silent.
As if receiving a cue from the silence, the younger voice spoke out again. "Cause for tremor: more likely an action of the bigger group for currently unclear reasons. Might have been out of desperation, strategically carried out, or an uncontrolled outcome of the fight. The state of the crypt suggests what was already a suspicion: the tremor was not completely seismic in nature. A clear evidence being the current state of the room."
"You are improving. But your haste for a conclusion tunnels your reasoning and awareness."
The lightness in the air and the oppressing presence that no longer lingered in the midst of darkness was a tell-tale sign that the voice was gone... Or maybe not? They both shivered at the thought.
All they could do was console the owner of the younger dry voice. They knew just how hard and nerve-wracking it was to deal with that voice everyday.
.
.......
.
Two days passed and Raven was finally free of all the mental and spiritual effects the ritual had on her.
Her mental walls were up and strong as they had always been, but still she couldn't be entirely sure.
She was certain that the ritual had done more than just weaken the barrier around her mind. The same barrier that stopped Trigon from outrightly possessing her body and stepping into the mortal plane.
She had scanned her mind, down to its deepest nook and cranny, even visiting thoughts she never wanted to think of, but still she couldn't find anything of Trigon's machinations in her mind, magic, or even her astral body – other than what was already there – and the lack of answers unsettled her more.
They were currently in one of Taro's safe houses, the revelation of which had Raven staring unblinking at Taro, before she remembered that, yeah, the old pudgy man wasn't just a simple shopkeeper in Gotham.
"What now?" Raven asked after her daily meditation.
Taro scratched his chin, or at least the ball of flesh he called one, was Raven's idle thought on seeing him resting on the bigger couch with a can of tropical juice in his hands.
"I don't think we can stay in Gotham anymore." She said slowly, knowing why she was asking. That he left his home behind and came with her.
The fact that he had already saved her three times spoke loudly on the budding trust she had of him.
He could take care of himself, he had shown that three times over. But now she wasn't so sure about herself. The ritual was still on her mind and she didn't want to think of what would happen if they got to her next time and she couldn't fight them off or escape in time.
"You said the Justice League could help, right?" Taro asked, and she nodded in reply.
"I doubt we'll be able to smoke out the Batman in time." Taro muttered to himself thoughtfully.
Raven sat beside him with a glass of water in hand. "In time for what?"
"Remember those assassins?"
She gave him a blank stare as she sensed the soft waft of mild irritation and disgruntlement from him when he mentioned the assassins.
"It wouldn't bode well for either of us if they tracked us down. I have some history with them, and while Deathstroke might not have recognized me, he's currently with people who might. I look differently from how I used to, but that wouldn't exactly stop them."
The irritation spiked around him but not for long as he blew it away, quite literally at that.
"So assassins might come after you soon." She stated blandly. "And demons and crazed acolytes will definitely come after me. So we leave Gotham?"
He nodded. The casual way he sat fully into the chair showed perfectly an unbothered image, one that Raven knew most elderly people carried around them. Taro was an aged adult in his mid-to-late forties, not quite yet an elderly but he already carried himself like one.
"Mn."
He fixed the temple of his glasses and pressed them down to sit steadily on his nose. "Gotham has a lot of eyes and someone is bound to know when someone is baiting out the Bat."
"What if he finds us first?" She couldn't help but ask, knowing what little she did of the fear factor that came with that particular hero's presence, but Taro simply gave a nonchalant shrug.
"Good for us if he does. Bad for us if he does." He simply retorted. "Nothing changes. We still have to leave Gotham. Preferably soon, or immediately."
Now this was different. Granted, she has not yet known Taro for even a month, but the impression he gave her, and they were all pretty strong impressions, was one of an old man who remains perpetually calm and unhurried.
'Well, they are assassins, so I can understand the haste.'
"How much trouble are they?" And wasn't that a new discovery? Her, Raven, potential herald of Doom and Armageddon, more interested in someone else's affairs for a change.
And here he goes again, casually dismissing the prospect of a horde of hunting assassins with a noncommittal wave of his hands.
"More trouble than they should be worth." He threw the can over his head and it landed on the dining table and fell, spilling its content.
"You made a mess." She pointed out dryly.
He stood up and walked towards his room, not bothering to look at the mess he made. "I know."
She wanted to give a biting retort but held her tongue as his door closed shut. She took her empty glass and walked towards the table to clean up the clumsy old man's mess when she saw the two plates on the table.
One had leftover crumbs from fully eaten pancakes and the other had half eaten pancakes, and even the fork was on the floor.
She was confused, knowing for one that Taro always made sure food on the table was fully eaten, and for second, that they didn't eat pancakes.
She wanted to ask but she felt the flash of a thought as the answer came to the front of her mind.
A staged scene.
Looking at it now, even the canned drink he threw laid spilled near the empty plate.
"Let's leave." He came out of his room with a change of clothes and a baseball cap on his head that looked comical.
There was a nondescript car at the back of the building they had stayed at, one Raven knew wasn't there yesterday but said nothing as she got in and they drove away.
"Where exactly are we going?" She asked. "And why couldn't I just open a portal for us?"
"You said you weren't exactly sure if they were locking into your location with every portal you took, right?" He asked and she gave him a simple 'yes' in reply. "Then it's a risk we can't willingly take unless we have no other choice."
He twisted his mouth under the shade of his moustache and gave out one of his silent disgruntled huffs.
The twisting of his mouth and his content in silence let Raven know that he suddenly realized he had been talking a lot more than usual these past few days and was about to move into his shell of nods, single answers and projecting intent. As if she would let him off that easily. If she was speaking more then he would too!
"So where to? Metropolis?"
An imperceptible frown came upon his face when she mentioned the city, a reaction she was seeing for the first time.
"You don't like the alien?"
He shook his head and relaxed into his seat, driving casually with one hand steering the wheels. "Nothing like that. Unimportant."
She kept staring, giving him her so-called trademarked deadpan glare until he relented and gave her his own limited edition fed up groan.
"Across states. Washington D.C. The League Headquarters, the Hall of Justice."
Raven pressed herself against the window of the car and watched as the road outside ran past them.
"So we're taking the long route to their front doors? Well, it's not as if we could seek out Superman in Metropolis anymore than we could Batman in Gotham."
They drove in silence, Raven watching the world race past them and finding herself enjoying the normalcy of it for the first time without the pressure of Trigon's impending descent snuffing out the tiniest pleasure out of everything in her life.
"Taro, I..." Words formed on her tongue but felt like lumps of stone in her throat. The words she wanted to speak were too heavy for her, so she said something instead. "Whatever happens, to me, to you, to everyone – I'm glad to have met you."
At the end, Rachel Roth was a girl who could not speak out what she wanted. And Raven was a girl who wouldn't dare dream of more, refused to even, because she was deathly scared of what more would mean.
Wobb Nox
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
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I'm very interested in Taro meeting Batman and if Bruce is aware of who he is.
I kinda hope there's a misunderstanding making the Bat duo start a fight and just get demolished by what appears to them to be an old fat guy.
I kinda hope there's a misunderstanding making the Bat duo start a fight and just get demolished by what appears to them to be an old fat guy.
Chapter 09 - Growing Reasons
New
Depth_
Getting out there.
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[The Batcave]
Soft clicks echoed rhythmically inside the hollowed underground cave with low lighting and soon they stopped. What followed was either a grunt or a groan but the only ones who could tell were the little night critters that were hanging upside down the stalactites of the cave. But even they won't tell you the difference because they couldn't be bothered by it.
"Another dead end, I presume, Master Bruce?" The tell-tale drawl and perfectly intoned syllables of a stereotypical English butler joined the silence of the cave, along with the soft rolling tyres of a snack trolley.
Another grunt followed.
"Is that a yes or a no? The grunts sound so alike these days that my old ears can no longer tell them apart." A perfectly construed response of imploration, reason and sarcasm all rolled into one, in a way only an English butler could.
Bruce Wayne – since he was without the mask – turned around to face his lifetime butler, caretaker, old friend and confidante, with his own perfectly construed response, but alas he couldn't beat the wit and quick response of the English butler.
"Your tea, Master Bruce." An elegant teacup was held a few meters from his face, rendering futile whatever retort he might have built up. Alas, the English butler wasn't done showing why they were the stereotypical perfect aide.
"And some light snacks to go along with it, to tide your empty stomach until you come up for dinner, which from the current progress of your work," the butler stole a glance at the six active monitors in front of the young master, "will be in the next two hours."
Bruce gave his butler a look before bringing the cup to his lips under the smiling gaze looking down at him. He picked up a snack while looking at the screens, the smallest piece, and he felt the smiling eyes behind him widen as they closed up. The stereotypical perfect English butler caught the young master.
Bruce grunted as he picked another snack, the biggest one this time.
"Oh my, they keep getting worse." The butler quipped softly as he refilled the teacup.
"How are the children doing, Alfred?" Bruce asked after setting the teacup perfectly down.
Alfred Pennyworth, the stereotypical English family butler, with a stereotypical English name, set aside the teacup on the trolley and gently pushed it aside, but not out of arm's length of Bruce's chair.
"The young Miss Barbara won't be coming over tonight. Family dinner with her father as she said it. Miss Cassandra has been performing combat drills since you both came back. That was four hours ago."
Bruce gave a soft nod. Alfred continued.
"As for the young Master Tim, he turned over for a two and half hour sleep before he goes on patrol." Alfred let out a hurt sigh. "One would think a parent would teach their children good values and habits."
He looked at Bruce who was staring blankly at him and shook his head in a disappointed fashion. "How can you excel spectacularly at the former and fail so woefully at the latter? Please endeavour to keep your bad habits private, as you do most things."
The blank stare directed at Alfred was now a dry one, but the wizened butler perfectly ignored it, as dare they say an English butler would.
"As for Master Dick, while he hasn't been to the mansion or the cave in two weeks, he did send word. Something about ninjas hopping around and weird groups running about, even in Bludhaven."
He procured a small plate from the trolley filled with scant few slices of fruits and set it in front of Bruce.
"I'll gander a guess that it has something to do with the doodles running around on those screens?"
"The League of Assassins. They've been snooping around for the past month, but never made their presence obvious."
"Except for that perfectly executed car chase over two weeks ago, that is." Alfred quipped, to which Bruce gave an acknowledging grunt, but this time with a nod. How gracious.
"But lately it feels like their focus has changed. They're searching. If they had been looking for something these past few weeks, now they're looking for someone."
Bruce tore his gaze away from a particular set of screens to another that displayed something entirely different. "And then there's this."
"Ah yes, the crypt from a few days ago." Alfred hummed in recognition as he looked over the scans. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the spread of destruction doesn't seem like conventional weaponry."
"It doesn't." He clicked a few keys and enlarged three particular images. "Advanced tech, enhanced capabilities, or exoteric means."
Alfred scoffed and remarked in a dry tone. "Right, because nothing makes things better than exoteric means." He picked up the empty plate and put it on the trolley. "Does this have anything to do with the 'weird groups running about' that Master Dick mentioned?"
Bruce shook his head slowly. His eyes were staring coldly at the images before him, his brain trying to create patterns for a mental simulation from the limited clues he had. "I don't know yet."
He looked at the time on the screen and frowned. He had spent four hours down here and, like Alfred said, planned on spending the next two as well. Well, best he get to work and hopefully finish as quickly as possible.
"I'll keep this one on tabs for now, at least until something new comes up." He said and started typing away swiftly and efficiently at the keys. "The presence of the League and whatever Ra's current interest in Gotham is worries me. I'll tail their trail and see if I can find out what or who it is that they are looking for?"
"I see. Should I inform Miss Barbara and Master Dick the next time they call, or will you do it yourself?" The way the old butler said those words made Bruce's fingers halt as they hovered above the keyboard.
They slowly came down and resumed typing, albeit at a slower speed, Alfred noticed and gave a faint smile from behind Bruce, smiling a tad bit wider when he heard Bruce's reply.
"I will come up in the next hundred minutes. I'll tell them before then."
Alfred dipped a bow. "Then excuse me, Master Bruce." And like the stereotypical perfect butler, he silently pushed the trolley away and left Bruce Wayne to his solitude and his work.
.
.......
.
[Gotham, inside a particular nondescript building]
A few figures were seen walking around every part of the small quaint house, casing and observing every inch of it for almost half an hour before they converged around the dining table, where the remnants of hastily eaten meals were left behind.
"They were obviously in a hurry. The question is whether they ran because they sniffed us coming, or they ran because of someone else?" Slade Wilson, the Deathstroke, finally spoke after they spent the last few minutes silently reading the whole house.
Talia al Ghul, daughter of the Demon Head, Ra's al Ghul, walked purposely around the table, took notice of the placement of the fork on the ground, and the stale half eaten pancake on the table, and then at the empty plate with a fork left on it. The scene slowly played out in front of her eyes.
"He was not in a hurry, even if he was, he didn't show it. The child he was with, the girl, on the other hand was clearly nervous." She looked from the table and drew a straight line with her eyes from the table to the room an adult clearly slept in.
"He left her first on the table and went to gather what little things he needed, but her nerves were frayed so she couldn't finish her food." She looked at the fork indents on different parts of the pancake, a sign of her frayed nerves which made her lose her appetite and subsequently played with her food.
"Normally a child will retain a sense of confidence even in the face of harrowing danger when in the presence of a calm adult, especially one they are familiar with."
"But she obviously didn't, which means she doesn't know him as much, or haven't known him for long." Slade interjected.
"That might be true." She accepted his reasoning as she stood behind the child's chair and ran her hands along its surface. "Or she knows more about the reason why they had to leave in a hurry. Which means that they have known each other for only a short time, which is why she couldn't emulate a calmer mind. In order words they are running from something, or someone, that is after her. A threat she's familiar with."
"Ohh?" Deathstroke sounded impressed at Talia's reasoning and deduction, and even the silent Lady Shiva looked at her with approval in her eyes. So he prodded her more. "What makes you so sure?"
Talia looked at Deathstroke and answered in a self-important tone, as if saying the answer should have been obvious to him in particular.
"During your encounter with The Assassin, how did you say she reacted to his orders?"
Even though his face couldn't be seen, Slade smiled behind his mask. Still he answered, injecting the right amount of cheer into his voice.
"Confident and trusting. She never hesitated to the words he spoke."
Talia nodded, pleased. "But that's not the picture here. She's clearly nervous and feels rushed. You said she could use magic, right? She might be related to the new wave of dark cultists that crawled into Gotham and soon disappeared. Or maybe even directly related to the weird spell someone had set off in Gotham. The timeline they started using this apartment matches with the same night the spell was set off."
Slade whistled, he was thoroughly impressed. He knew the daughter of the Demon was more than just a pretty face and deadly skill, but her deductive capabilities were truly impressing him.
"What more can you tell us?" He asked, completely serious this time. He shared a glance with Lady Shiva who remained silent and kept staring at Talia.
Talia looked at the table and the door, and then picked up the fork, as well as the spilled canned drink, before sitting on the chair. She continued.
"She kept absentmindedly poking at food and nervously tapping her legs against the table, getting increasingly stressed with every second they remained here."
Deathstroke looked at the floor under the table and around the chair and saw what looked like a little friction line centimetres away from one of the table's legs. She must have pushed it with her nervous tapping, he internally summarized.
With the fork still in hand, Talia looked at the door and continued her simulation. "Her wait paid off when he came out of his room and told her they could leave. She got up instantly, dropped the fork, and shook the table, causing the drink to spill, and ran outside so they could leave quickly."
The ended her simulation as the scene in front of her eyes faded away as soon as the girl stepped out of the door.
"So they are running from something? Most possibly magic-totting deranged cultists." The masked mercenary summarized. "Where next might they have gone? Bludhaven? Metropolis? Or maybe somewhere else along Stateline?"
Lady Shiva who had remained silent finally spoke up. "He wouldn't go to Bludhaven, too close to casualty ground."
"And Metropolis?"
She started walking towards the door, her response echoing behind the silent steps she left. "He won't step into Metropolis unless he has a good reason to. And if he did, we'll find him quicker."
He and Talia followed behind her.
"So is anyone going to tell me about his history with the League? Neither you, Talia, or Ra's will speak up anything about him even though it is clear you knew him more than the title he carried."
Seeing no one reply him, he shrugged and went the other route. "At least tell me why he won't step in Metropolis. I doubt it's because of the big blue boy scout over there."
Lady Shiva stopped and turned her head halfway to glare straight into Deathstroke's eyes through his mask. "His past reasons are not important. His current actions are. We need to find his next trail before it all disappears."
She tore her eyes away from Slade but left him with some words. Him and Talia both.
"We're hunting not just any assassin, but 'The Assassin'. The moment we lose his trail is the moment we become the hunted. Underestimate him for even a second and you will be dead in the next."
As Lady Shiva walked away, Deathstroke couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
"I hope the Bat picks up those clues as quickly as possible, because something tells me we'll need every edge we can get in tracking this particular mark down."
Talia stared at him from the side of her eyes, wanting to scoff derisively at Deathstroke's words but resisted the urge.
"He's not some mark. He's the thing even hunters dare not hunt."
Slade couldn't help the sarcastic quip his tongue retorted with. "And remind me again why we are hunting the living embodiment of a flashing danger sign?"
And Talia's answer to that was simple. "Because we dare. Because Ra's al Ghul demands it."
The masked mercenary chuckled sardonically. "Yeah, that'll do it."
.
.........
.
Taro stared at the ceiling of the motel they were in as he absentmindedly twirled the flip phone in his hands around his fingers, thoughts firing off far and wide.
His mind left the boring ceiling and fell to the phone dancing around his fingers. It took all of a second for the image of the phone to be replaced by a custom carved knife that waddled in-between his fingers with surgical accuracy.
The same stray thought that had plagued his mind for over two weeks came back again to his mind immediately it relaxed.
What are you doing, Taro Sakamoto?
It had been like a dream. One moment he was the usual corner-store owner in a rundown part of downtown Gotham, and the next moment he had thrown it all away without so much as a second thought, something he only realized as a life fades away through his hands, just like it had done all those years ago.
All for what? A child he barely knew. A girl he didn't know the true name of. Her poker face was incredible and even her nerve tells had been trained not to react, an adverse effect of her emotional impairment, but he could tell easily that her name wasn't Raven.
And despite all this he still found himself not caring all that much.
What are you doing, Taro Sakamoto?
The question came again to him but he was too tired for a deep introspection so he let it float about and hang around somewhere.
And at the end of everything that plagued his mind, the only reason he had was that the hopeless child he found besieged by demons on a cold dark night did not deserve it.
She did not deserve to be alone. She did not deserve to fear to love. She did not deserve to be cursed by her birth. She did not deserve to have Trigon as a father.
"It does not matter." Yes, it does not. He was old enough to not care about structuring a strong enough reason behind every decision he made.
Maybe he'll find an answer down the road, but honestly it did not matter. He decided.
He will no longer search for a reason, or think up a great importance for what he currently had and what he was currently doing.
"You're thinking too much." The familiar bland voice drew him out of his thoughtful wanderings. "Even if I can't tell what you're thinking, I still get an impression."
Stupid old man thoughts, he mentally waved at her.
"At least you know that much." She took a seat on the wooden chair in the corner of the room and opened up the black tome she had brought out.
"So? What were you thinking about?" With her eyes fully focused on her tome, and her voice eerily bland and grating, she sounded completely disinterested in what she was asking of.
"Nothing useful."
They spent the following minutes in appreciated silence until Raven finally looked up from her dark tome.
"When... If everything works out well, will you go back to Gotham?"
Taro looked at her from behind his round glasses and gave her a casual nod. "Of course we'll go back. We can't leave the store closed for too long or we'll lose our customers."
"I see." Was her short disinterested reply before she went back to reading her book. She remained like that for the next few seconds before she spoke up again, her eyes still focused on her magic book.
"The spring on my bed frame squeaks out sometimes." She said it with the air of a passing comment.
Taro frowned, almost looking distressed. "Rather than buy a new one, we'll oil it first and see if it still squeaks."
"Cheapskate."
"It's called managing finances. You'll understand when you become an adult." He replied, waving her off with a self-important attitude as if he was shooing her away.
Seeing the girl sitting with her guard subconsciously raised up, even as she tried to engage in what she probably felt was worthless conversation, and yet she still tried.
He nodded inwardly to himself. He didn't need a reason.
She was trying to be confident and positive in the face of what looked like a lost fight, even when she didn't know how to.
Going around and asking questions in a roundabout way, just to silently ask if she would have had a place to return to if things had worked out fine. She did. He let her know she did.
Even as she prepared herself to march towards what looked like certain death, she asked regardless, and he let her know that she still had a place to return to.
Who needs reasons in the face of such silent cries?
Soft clicks echoed rhythmically inside the hollowed underground cave with low lighting and soon they stopped. What followed was either a grunt or a groan but the only ones who could tell were the little night critters that were hanging upside down the stalactites of the cave. But even they won't tell you the difference because they couldn't be bothered by it.
"Another dead end, I presume, Master Bruce?" The tell-tale drawl and perfectly intoned syllables of a stereotypical English butler joined the silence of the cave, along with the soft rolling tyres of a snack trolley.
Another grunt followed.
"Is that a yes or a no? The grunts sound so alike these days that my old ears can no longer tell them apart." A perfectly construed response of imploration, reason and sarcasm all rolled into one, in a way only an English butler could.
Bruce Wayne – since he was without the mask – turned around to face his lifetime butler, caretaker, old friend and confidante, with his own perfectly construed response, but alas he couldn't beat the wit and quick response of the English butler.
"Your tea, Master Bruce." An elegant teacup was held a few meters from his face, rendering futile whatever retort he might have built up. Alas, the English butler wasn't done showing why they were the stereotypical perfect aide.
"And some light snacks to go along with it, to tide your empty stomach until you come up for dinner, which from the current progress of your work," the butler stole a glance at the six active monitors in front of the young master, "will be in the next two hours."
Bruce gave his butler a look before bringing the cup to his lips under the smiling gaze looking down at him. He picked up a snack while looking at the screens, the smallest piece, and he felt the smiling eyes behind him widen as they closed up. The stereotypical perfect English butler caught the young master.
Bruce grunted as he picked another snack, the biggest one this time.
"Oh my, they keep getting worse." The butler quipped softly as he refilled the teacup.
"How are the children doing, Alfred?" Bruce asked after setting the teacup perfectly down.
Alfred Pennyworth, the stereotypical English family butler, with a stereotypical English name, set aside the teacup on the trolley and gently pushed it aside, but not out of arm's length of Bruce's chair.
"The young Miss Barbara won't be coming over tonight. Family dinner with her father as she said it. Miss Cassandra has been performing combat drills since you both came back. That was four hours ago."
Bruce gave a soft nod. Alfred continued.
"As for the young Master Tim, he turned over for a two and half hour sleep before he goes on patrol." Alfred let out a hurt sigh. "One would think a parent would teach their children good values and habits."
He looked at Bruce who was staring blankly at him and shook his head in a disappointed fashion. "How can you excel spectacularly at the former and fail so woefully at the latter? Please endeavour to keep your bad habits private, as you do most things."
The blank stare directed at Alfred was now a dry one, but the wizened butler perfectly ignored it, as dare they say an English butler would.
"As for Master Dick, while he hasn't been to the mansion or the cave in two weeks, he did send word. Something about ninjas hopping around and weird groups running about, even in Bludhaven."
He procured a small plate from the trolley filled with scant few slices of fruits and set it in front of Bruce.
"I'll gander a guess that it has something to do with the doodles running around on those screens?"
"The League of Assassins. They've been snooping around for the past month, but never made their presence obvious."
"Except for that perfectly executed car chase over two weeks ago, that is." Alfred quipped, to which Bruce gave an acknowledging grunt, but this time with a nod. How gracious.
"But lately it feels like their focus has changed. They're searching. If they had been looking for something these past few weeks, now they're looking for someone."
Bruce tore his gaze away from a particular set of screens to another that displayed something entirely different. "And then there's this."
"Ah yes, the crypt from a few days ago." Alfred hummed in recognition as he looked over the scans. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the spread of destruction doesn't seem like conventional weaponry."
"It doesn't." He clicked a few keys and enlarged three particular images. "Advanced tech, enhanced capabilities, or exoteric means."
Alfred scoffed and remarked in a dry tone. "Right, because nothing makes things better than exoteric means." He picked up the empty plate and put it on the trolley. "Does this have anything to do with the 'weird groups running about' that Master Dick mentioned?"
Bruce shook his head slowly. His eyes were staring coldly at the images before him, his brain trying to create patterns for a mental simulation from the limited clues he had. "I don't know yet."
He looked at the time on the screen and frowned. He had spent four hours down here and, like Alfred said, planned on spending the next two as well. Well, best he get to work and hopefully finish as quickly as possible.
"I'll keep this one on tabs for now, at least until something new comes up." He said and started typing away swiftly and efficiently at the keys. "The presence of the League and whatever Ra's current interest in Gotham is worries me. I'll tail their trail and see if I can find out what or who it is that they are looking for?"
"I see. Should I inform Miss Barbara and Master Dick the next time they call, or will you do it yourself?" The way the old butler said those words made Bruce's fingers halt as they hovered above the keyboard.
They slowly came down and resumed typing, albeit at a slower speed, Alfred noticed and gave a faint smile from behind Bruce, smiling a tad bit wider when he heard Bruce's reply.
"I will come up in the next hundred minutes. I'll tell them before then."
Alfred dipped a bow. "Then excuse me, Master Bruce." And like the stereotypical perfect butler, he silently pushed the trolley away and left Bruce Wayne to his solitude and his work.
.
.......
.
[Gotham, inside a particular nondescript building]
A few figures were seen walking around every part of the small quaint house, casing and observing every inch of it for almost half an hour before they converged around the dining table, where the remnants of hastily eaten meals were left behind.
"They were obviously in a hurry. The question is whether they ran because they sniffed us coming, or they ran because of someone else?" Slade Wilson, the Deathstroke, finally spoke after they spent the last few minutes silently reading the whole house.
Talia al Ghul, daughter of the Demon Head, Ra's al Ghul, walked purposely around the table, took notice of the placement of the fork on the ground, and the stale half eaten pancake on the table, and then at the empty plate with a fork left on it. The scene slowly played out in front of her eyes.
"He was not in a hurry, even if he was, he didn't show it. The child he was with, the girl, on the other hand was clearly nervous." She looked from the table and drew a straight line with her eyes from the table to the room an adult clearly slept in.
"He left her first on the table and went to gather what little things he needed, but her nerves were frayed so she couldn't finish her food." She looked at the fork indents on different parts of the pancake, a sign of her frayed nerves which made her lose her appetite and subsequently played with her food.
"Normally a child will retain a sense of confidence even in the face of harrowing danger when in the presence of a calm adult, especially one they are familiar with."
"But she obviously didn't, which means she doesn't know him as much, or haven't known him for long." Slade interjected.
"That might be true." She accepted his reasoning as she stood behind the child's chair and ran her hands along its surface. "Or she knows more about the reason why they had to leave in a hurry. Which means that they have known each other for only a short time, which is why she couldn't emulate a calmer mind. In order words they are running from something, or someone, that is after her. A threat she's familiar with."
"Ohh?" Deathstroke sounded impressed at Talia's reasoning and deduction, and even the silent Lady Shiva looked at her with approval in her eyes. So he prodded her more. "What makes you so sure?"
Talia looked at Deathstroke and answered in a self-important tone, as if saying the answer should have been obvious to him in particular.
"During your encounter with The Assassin, how did you say she reacted to his orders?"
Even though his face couldn't be seen, Slade smiled behind his mask. Still he answered, injecting the right amount of cheer into his voice.
"Confident and trusting. She never hesitated to the words he spoke."
Talia nodded, pleased. "But that's not the picture here. She's clearly nervous and feels rushed. You said she could use magic, right? She might be related to the new wave of dark cultists that crawled into Gotham and soon disappeared. Or maybe even directly related to the weird spell someone had set off in Gotham. The timeline they started using this apartment matches with the same night the spell was set off."
Slade whistled, he was thoroughly impressed. He knew the daughter of the Demon was more than just a pretty face and deadly skill, but her deductive capabilities were truly impressing him.
"What more can you tell us?" He asked, completely serious this time. He shared a glance with Lady Shiva who remained silent and kept staring at Talia.
Talia looked at the table and the door, and then picked up the fork, as well as the spilled canned drink, before sitting on the chair. She continued.
"She kept absentmindedly poking at food and nervously tapping her legs against the table, getting increasingly stressed with every second they remained here."
Deathstroke looked at the floor under the table and around the chair and saw what looked like a little friction line centimetres away from one of the table's legs. She must have pushed it with her nervous tapping, he internally summarized.
With the fork still in hand, Talia looked at the door and continued her simulation. "Her wait paid off when he came out of his room and told her they could leave. She got up instantly, dropped the fork, and shook the table, causing the drink to spill, and ran outside so they could leave quickly."
The ended her simulation as the scene in front of her eyes faded away as soon as the girl stepped out of the door.
"So they are running from something? Most possibly magic-totting deranged cultists." The masked mercenary summarized. "Where next might they have gone? Bludhaven? Metropolis? Or maybe somewhere else along Stateline?"
Lady Shiva who had remained silent finally spoke up. "He wouldn't go to Bludhaven, too close to casualty ground."
"And Metropolis?"
She started walking towards the door, her response echoing behind the silent steps she left. "He won't step into Metropolis unless he has a good reason to. And if he did, we'll find him quicker."
He and Talia followed behind her.
"So is anyone going to tell me about his history with the League? Neither you, Talia, or Ra's will speak up anything about him even though it is clear you knew him more than the title he carried."
Seeing no one reply him, he shrugged and went the other route. "At least tell me why he won't step in Metropolis. I doubt it's because of the big blue boy scout over there."
Lady Shiva stopped and turned her head halfway to glare straight into Deathstroke's eyes through his mask. "His past reasons are not important. His current actions are. We need to find his next trail before it all disappears."
She tore her eyes away from Slade but left him with some words. Him and Talia both.
"We're hunting not just any assassin, but 'The Assassin'. The moment we lose his trail is the moment we become the hunted. Underestimate him for even a second and you will be dead in the next."
As Lady Shiva walked away, Deathstroke couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
"I hope the Bat picks up those clues as quickly as possible, because something tells me we'll need every edge we can get in tracking this particular mark down."
Talia stared at him from the side of her eyes, wanting to scoff derisively at Deathstroke's words but resisted the urge.
"He's not some mark. He's the thing even hunters dare not hunt."
Slade couldn't help the sarcastic quip his tongue retorted with. "And remind me again why we are hunting the living embodiment of a flashing danger sign?"
And Talia's answer to that was simple. "Because we dare. Because Ra's al Ghul demands it."
The masked mercenary chuckled sardonically. "Yeah, that'll do it."
.
.........
.
Taro stared at the ceiling of the motel they were in as he absentmindedly twirled the flip phone in his hands around his fingers, thoughts firing off far and wide.
His mind left the boring ceiling and fell to the phone dancing around his fingers. It took all of a second for the image of the phone to be replaced by a custom carved knife that waddled in-between his fingers with surgical accuracy.
The same stray thought that had plagued his mind for over two weeks came back again to his mind immediately it relaxed.
What are you doing, Taro Sakamoto?
It had been like a dream. One moment he was the usual corner-store owner in a rundown part of downtown Gotham, and the next moment he had thrown it all away without so much as a second thought, something he only realized as a life fades away through his hands, just like it had done all those years ago.
All for what? A child he barely knew. A girl he didn't know the true name of. Her poker face was incredible and even her nerve tells had been trained not to react, an adverse effect of her emotional impairment, but he could tell easily that her name wasn't Raven.
And despite all this he still found himself not caring all that much.
What are you doing, Taro Sakamoto?
The question came again to him but he was too tired for a deep introspection so he let it float about and hang around somewhere.
And at the end of everything that plagued his mind, the only reason he had was that the hopeless child he found besieged by demons on a cold dark night did not deserve it.
She did not deserve to be alone. She did not deserve to fear to love. She did not deserve to be cursed by her birth. She did not deserve to have Trigon as a father.
"It does not matter." Yes, it does not. He was old enough to not care about structuring a strong enough reason behind every decision he made.
Maybe he'll find an answer down the road, but honestly it did not matter. He decided.
He will no longer search for a reason, or think up a great importance for what he currently had and what he was currently doing.
"You're thinking too much." The familiar bland voice drew him out of his thoughtful wanderings. "Even if I can't tell what you're thinking, I still get an impression."
Stupid old man thoughts, he mentally waved at her.
"At least you know that much." She took a seat on the wooden chair in the corner of the room and opened up the black tome she had brought out.
"So? What were you thinking about?" With her eyes fully focused on her tome, and her voice eerily bland and grating, she sounded completely disinterested in what she was asking of.
"Nothing useful."
They spent the following minutes in appreciated silence until Raven finally looked up from her dark tome.
"When... If everything works out well, will you go back to Gotham?"
Taro looked at her from behind his round glasses and gave her a casual nod. "Of course we'll go back. We can't leave the store closed for too long or we'll lose our customers."
"I see." Was her short disinterested reply before she went back to reading her book. She remained like that for the next few seconds before she spoke up again, her eyes still focused on her magic book.
"The spring on my bed frame squeaks out sometimes." She said it with the air of a passing comment.
Taro frowned, almost looking distressed. "Rather than buy a new one, we'll oil it first and see if it still squeaks."
"Cheapskate."
"It's called managing finances. You'll understand when you become an adult." He replied, waving her off with a self-important attitude as if he was shooing her away.
Seeing the girl sitting with her guard subconsciously raised up, even as she tried to engage in what she probably felt was worthless conversation, and yet she still tried.
He nodded inwardly to himself. He didn't need a reason.
She was trying to be confident and positive in the face of what looked like a lost fight, even when she didn't know how to.
Going around and asking questions in a roundabout way, just to silently ask if she would have had a place to return to if things had worked out fine. She did. He let her know she did.
Even as she prepared herself to march towards what looked like certain death, she asked regardless, and he let her know that she still had a place to return to.
Who needs reasons in the face of such silent cries?
dazzle_dork
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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