DC: Dad Lore

[Depth_]

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."

 

[Depth_]

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.

 

[Depth_]

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."

 

[Depth_]

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.

 

[Depth_]

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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…….


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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.

 

[Depth_]

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.

 

[Depth_]

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."

 

[Depth_]

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.

 

[Depth_]

[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?

 

[Depth_]

[An unmarked island, the Northern Sea]


The aura that permeated the dark room was stifling and was only slightly abated by the two candlesticks that stood at the far end and casted down an orange glow that was slowly absorbed into the darkness that the Demon Head resided.


"Magic." The aged voice of Ra's al Ghul sounded out, making the two kneeling messengers shiver to their spine. "True. It will make a bit of a complication when facing off against him if he is backed by magic."


"I believe my daughter, the mercenary, and Lady Shiva are enough for the Assassin, his bespoken legend notwithal." He said to himself. "As for this group of likely sorcerers after them, maybe we can use them after all."


The two kneeling messengers bowed even lower when they felt Ra's gaze on them. "You will send a message to a certain warlock: The Demon intends to collect on his favor."


The messenger on the left bowed even lower and silently retreated.


"The Bat has been very welcoming on the trail we've left him so far: lead him to the barn." A second later and the other messenger was gone.


"The Bat, the Assassin, a lost child, my hunters, dark agents; I await the spectacle you will all play out for me."


The candles flickered for a split second before they were snuffed out, leaving the Demon to mire in the foreboding darkness of his abode.


.


.......


.


As the days went by, Raven started feeling more anxious, something she was quick to tell Taro of, and the only inkling she had to why she was feeling this way was because of the ritual. The same ritual she was sure had done something to her, the very same thing she couldn't find no matter how much she spent scouring every inch of her mind.


She grew increasingly anxious with every passing day they spent traveling that she could barely stay focused for more than a few hours at a time. And that wasn't the worst of it all.


The thing that almost sent her spiralling? She was losing her nightmares.


"I have never lost a nightmare in a sleep, or fail to remember one after waking up. Never. Not since that day." She said to Taro, projecting enough seriousness into her words that it almost broke her nonchalant facade.


The nightmares were a staple part of the cursed existence that was her life that suddenly starting to lose them for no particular reason rattled her something fierce.


"We'll keep moving. Only stopping if we have to." As if Raven's warranted hysteria wasn't enough problems on its own, Taro became increasingly certain that the League of Assassins were after them.


Hiding a micro mic inside the pancake staged scene had been the right choice. And it looked like even the Bat was on his trail.


How could a night gone wrong lead to all this?


They were slowly being edged into a corner and while their increasingly bad situation might seem like a series of bad coincidences, Taro would almost bet his moustache that someone was watching, and most likely influencing, this growing circle of conflict. And it wasn't the outer-dimensional demon.


Raven's anxiousness and the fact that the misdirecting trail he left behind to track their followers was quickly being stepped on. Something was correcting their path.


"What if we try to directly portal to their front gate?"


Raven thought for a moment and slowly shook her head. "There's no guarantee that I can take us directly there. Somewhere close to it, maybe?"


"But right now, I don't know why, but I feel like doing that would be a very bad move on my part." Her mental defences were slowly becoming wobbly that she had to take more time than usual to fix them. "I think that using any powerful or particularly draining spell will put us at more risk."


"There's nothing we can do about it then. Driving all the way it is."


She scrunched her brows at the thought of the distance they would have to travel, until an idea popped up in her head. "Why don't we use a plane? Between you and me, we can sneak into the airport and on a plane without being discovered."


Sadly the older man shook his head. "As long as we don't know how they are keeping on our trail, getting on a plane is the worst thing to do."


It took all of a second for the reason to come to Raven. "If they track us mid-flight, all they would have to do is find out where we'll land and wait out an ambush."


"Precisely."


"I can throw up an anti-scrying spell, you know? In case they are tracking us with magical means, which I'm sure they are."


Taro shot her a contemplating look to which she responded by summoning a book after reading a thoughtful question hovering in the outer shell of his mind.


"It won't last for long. An hour or two, maybe three. I'll have to do it multiple times a day but there's a problem with doing it too frequently as they might start having an easier time reading through it the more I put it up."


"We can lose them a far distance within an hour or two. Depends on when and how we do it." He replied after thinking about it for a few seconds.


"That is if it works." Raven couldn't help but said, letting her negativity peek through.


"We lose nothing if it doesn't work. And we gain a lot of time if it does."


.


........


.


[Batman POV]


The Batman's face was set in a frozen cold impassive expression as he rode the Batwing on autopilot.


His focus was completely taken by the pictures of very specific individuals that almost made a frown creep into his lips.


Deathstroke, Talia and Lady Shiva. Either one of them was enough to draw close most of his attention. The three of them working together? Now that was enough reason for him to worry.


The main question however remained: Who were they looking for?


"So you think those dark cultists are connected to whoever those three are hunting for?" Dick Grayson, the Nightwing, Batman and Bruce Wayne's first son, asked as he leaned on the chair his mentor and father sat on.


"Batgirl and I found a few of them searching out the den of these Acolytes. What we got from there was what led us to that house."


"Ah! The one that made you think that someone was already following the trail you just found." He clicked his fingers, voice too jovial as if he was teasing the Batman.


"I wasn't wrong." Came the brisk reply.


"But you wish you were, don't you?" Dick quipped back, his amusement slowly bleeding away as he stared at the picture of those three in particular.


Batman and the whole of the Dark Knight Family of Gotham had a lot of memorable history with each of them.


The easiest, and no less deadly, to deal with was Talia, and that was easily resolved by siccing Batman on her and letting them have another of their famous bouts of intense flirting, one that was mostly accompanied, or threatened by, sharp objects and near fatal wounds.


As for Deathstroke, that one was a bit more complicated but not to the point that Nightwing couldn't contain. Keeping up with his estranged and unwanted uncle (as the man had once called himself after giving a more younger teenage Nightwing – then Robin – the worst beating of his lifetime. Batman had been furious) was a chore he never looked forward to.


The elephant in the group was the most problematic to deal with. Sandra Wu-San, or as she was more commonly known, Lady Shiba, was a foe that not even Nightwing, the first progeny of Batman, had a good chance of contending against, talk less of winning. And Dick wasn't embarrassed to admit that she genuinely scared him. One just needs to fight with her daughter, his sister, for the fear factor to automatically set it.


A notification came from the interface at that moment.


[Incoming Call]


Batman accepted the call and an anxious voice battered the intercoms of the Batwing.


"I just heard from Alfred that you are going after Deathstroke, Talia, and that damned woman on your lonesome. What are you thinking? You couldn't wait for one—"


"I am not alone, Oracle." Batman calmly interjected Barbara's frantic rant.


"Huh? What do you..."


"Sup, Babs." Dick spoke out, cutting short the words Barbara was going to say and making her go silent for bit before they heard the loud relieved sigh she expunged from her lungs.


"Oh thank goodness you're there, Dick." Her breathing finally relaxed. "Do you know how worried Cass was when she heard you went alone? You almost made her cry! Dammit, Bruce!"


"..." Bruce opened his mouth to speak, mostly to give a reasonable and logical explanation, but he held himself.


"I will apologize when I get back." He ended up saying. His choice of words had Dick smiling behind him. Only he and Alfred knew just how far Bruce had come in learning to care about how those under him, his children, felt.


He was still as rough as a sawblade around his edges, but it was a lot more manageable than what Dick was used to growing up.


"Don't let him off that easily, Babs. If I didn't sneak into the Batwing before he did, he would have left without telling me."


Bruce levelled him his patented Batman Glare™ but he just grinned in return. Unfortunately for Bruce, Dick's particular rebellious phase had made him immune to a lot of things Bruce did. He doubt any of his younger siblings could weather the Bat Glare as casually as he did.


They heard Barbara groan into something due to how her voice became muffled.


"Honestly, I can't with you sometimes." She finally said. "I'll be in seat in a few minutes. Let me go and console Cass and assure her that you'll be fine with Dick with you."


The call ended with Dick chuckling behind Bruce who actually looked conflicted and unsure of what to do for a moment before he shook his head and refocused himself.


"What is it?" He asked, a tad bit harsher than he wanted to sound. In his defence, Dick's snickering was becoming an irritating nuisance.


"Nothing. Might want to bring back a souvenir to appease her. An ornamental kunai or something like that. Trust me, she loves them."


Bruce's only reply was a grunt but that was enough to let Dick know that his words were taken under serious consideration.


"So back to this particular death squad... nah, not good enough." Dick started as he took a seat besides Bruce. "You are rushing in blind, that is so unlike you, but not like I can't understand what you are thinking. Anything that the League of Assassins have in common with a coven of fanatically deranged dark magic users, and even have Ra's casually send out those three at once, does not bode well for Gotham. And isn't that saying something?"


.


..........


.


On Taro and Raven's side, they were already two-thirds of the way through their journey and with every hour they drove, the pit in Raven's stomach widened.


It got so bad that she had to slip into astral projection a couple of times because her physical body was just that uncomfortable.


"We can keep going for the next few hours or stop now, rest for a few hours, and spend the next twelve hours on the road."


Raven levitated on her seat, just letting her magic flow at this point, doing everything she could to centre herself and her mind. It had been Taro's idea for her to slip into her natural habitat.


"We'll be putting ourselves at great risk if we rest now." She pointed out. Wanting to do anything else but stop.


Taro sympathized with her, but going any further at full throttle would batter up their already tired bodies.


"We will be at a disadvantage if we push ourselves any more than we already have when they finally catch up to us."


Raven bit the inside of her jaw all the while her face remained impassive. "We have to, don't we?"


"Better be prepared than blindsided."


"You're the master assassin. Whatever you say." She relented. Agreeing that she didn't know better. Since teleportation was out of the way, they had no choice but to slow down and centre themselves. Just like Taro always says.


"There are a few motels thirty minutes from here. We'll stay there for a few hours and leave after midnight."


The sun was already taking its daily dip in the horizon when they arrived at the small town tucked away in the middle of nowhere.


For once Raven was glad that their pit stop was a quiet scant town with only a few hundred people.


Taro quickly found them a room at a motel that was uphill at the edge of the town.


"Good eye line." Was his short reply at her silent question of why he had chosen the most awkwardly located motel.


They quickly relocated to the single room he paid for and Raven wasted no time making a beeline for the shower for a much needed bath. She came out a few minutes after she had gone in and sat cross-legged on the bed and swiftly slipped into a meditative trance.


She hovered slightly above the bed as a dark purple glow entranced about her. Three magic tomes appeared with their pages opened and started rotating around her.


Taro watched all this from the wooden chair he sat on. Even after all this while, Raven's expression of magic fascinated him every time he saw it. Maybe because it was a magic unique to her alone.


Unlike other sorcerers who tapped from the same well of magic and used it in different ways, Raven's source of magic and her expression of it was something only she had access to.


He stood up from the chair and walked towards the closed window, hiding his body behind the wall as he subtly peeked outside.


He maintained his vigil religiously for an hour while Raven kept up with her meditation, watching the whole town and keeping tabs on the houses people rushed to as well as the number of people that went into each house.


It was in his dedicated vigilance that made him frown as soon as he noticed something weird.


There were three buildings around the motel he and Raven were staying at, all of which were two bedrooms in accommodation. And yet he had counted a total of twelve people that walked into the three buildings and only two came out. Both of whom were currently making their way to the motel.


He looked at his watch and sighed. Raven had only rested for a little over an hour and half. Hopefully she'll be able to sleep in the car.


He walked towards her and stood at the edge of the bed. Raven's eyes opened, both glowing white with a haze of purple, and the magic glow around her faded away and she landed softly on the bed.


She immediately understood when she saw the look on Taro's face. It was time to leave.


She did not utter a word of complaint. She dutifully sent her tome away and summoned her dark cloak to cover her body.


"Are they assassins?"


"No. Probably acolytes." He held up a box cutter and gestured for Raven to follow. "One is at the back and the other is at the front. Ten more in the buildings surrounding the motel. We go through the back and pass by the building by the left. It will give us a better chance of escaping if they make us out."


He always made sure to explain the reasoning behind his actions to Raven every time he made one, not just so she could understand better and synergize well with him, but also to teach her how to use her calm mind.


They had hardly crossed the door when Taro's eyes contracted into thin pricks and Raven's widened a tad bit.


The entire motel exploded in a gale of force and magic that instantly sent the town ahead into abject chaos.


The wave of dust and fire were blown away to reveal the unscathed form of Raven and Taro under the protection of a barrier Raven had put up the instant she sensed the violent build-up of magic around the motel.


"The others are attacking already." She informed Taro just before she put down the barrier.


"Don't stray too far or too near. Keep them at the edge of your range."


A burst of air kicked up the dust around Raven only for her to realize that Taro was already gone, and the fact that the magic that was trickling up at the back of the now-destroyed motel suddenly disappeared told her exactly what just happened.


She couldn't help but notice something strange about this group of people as she levitated. They were of the dark circle of magic, that she was sure of, but they lacked the usual stench and the repulsive feeling she got from the acolytes serving under Trigon.


"They are not acolytes." She heard Taro say from below her as he kicked one of them and sent him flying over a dozen feet.


She sent off a few indiscriminate hexbolts and flew back to the ground. The plan was to escape, not fight them off, she reminded herself.


She landed beside Taro and staggered on her first step. Huh? She blinked confusedly and tried to take another step only to realize that her body felt numb.


Taro who was beside her instantly noticed when the air became imperceptibly denser.


"The League of Assassins." He grumbled, greatly irritated, even as he started feeling the numbness creeping up his nerves.


He picked up Raven who was already paralyzed and passed out and tried to escape only for him to pause when he saw a missile blasting his way.


His legs were already heavy while the missile drew nearer until it entered casualty range and Taro could see exactly when a bullet hit the missile, but instead of the explosion of fire and force he expected, what bathed the full area was a green mist.


He was instantly paralyzed the moment the green mist touched his body, but he kept struggling. Even going as far as to force his system to start expunging whatever it was that had entered his body.


"Seriously, is he still awake? A herd of elephants would have been lights out in the first two seconds." He heard someone say, a familiar voice. But it was the voice that replied that made him accept the deep slumber that clawed at it.


"Knock him out and tie him up, Slade. The poison is to be administered to him every sixty minutes. Talia will take care of the last surviving sorcerers. We leave immediately. Ra's awaits this one's return."


Taro's last thought came at the end of Lady Shiva's words after his eyes finally couldn't hold themselves apart.


Shit.





#####################


Who invited Batman?


On another note, I created a patreon, a small little thing, currently got 4 chapters incase you, I don't know, wanna check it out? No pressure.


But for those you might wanna: patreon.com/1stDepth

 

[Depth_]

Taro groggily woke up, his head still riding off a wave of vertigo, and it took him all of two blinks and three seconds to realize that he was tied up in the most discomforting way possible and his joints were all locked up in a way that trying to move them made his muscles twist and spasm. A muscle pull in such a position would definitely hurt like two kinds of hell.


Taro sighed despondently. "Really?" He knew he was getting on in his years and had been out of practice for the better part of a decade, but he wasn't that rusty that he couldn't shake off the League of Assassins.


Magic.


He held the thought for a moment before letting it go. If it was magic then he had little he could do about it.


This wasn't the old days where his only worries was if he was better skilled than the next person or had the better weapons. There was little a man of mundane flesh and blood could do when faced with an alien that could probably displace the moon if said alien wanted to.


Back then the normal consensus was that no one was faster than a bullet, now what had been once a fact had devolved into a joke that even children wouldn't believe.


Honestly, he was thankful that he gave up his blade when he did and had used that resolution to set the goal of living out a mundane life. A goal he had been contentedly living out, only for the blade he had given up to find its way into his hands again.


"What can I say? Some things are just not meant to be." He murmured to himself. He could still feel the effects of whatever that paralytic toxin had been. His body still felt sluggish.


He closed his eyes and focused on his heartbeat and synced his breathing with it, and from there he gradually lowered his heart rate and blood flow. In this state he could tell if something foreign was in his bloodstream, and could even begin a filtration process.


It was an ancient assassin art that he had been lucky to learn in his youth. It saved his life more than a couple times and even helped him build up strong resistances to a lot of exotic and common poisons back in the day with how frequently he was exposed to them.


It was how he knew that the green poison was a really new mix-up. His body had seized up when it touched his skin, but no matter how much his immune system fought against the freshly foreign toxin, it ultimately failed as its defences were broken down in seconds.


"They must have dosed me with a ridiculously huge amount in the short time I've been out."


His blood and his skin was filled with so much remnant of the toxin that the average man would still be in a semi-comatose state, and not having an absentminded conversation with himself.


Since there was nothing he could currently do, he drooped his head and willed the fatigue to take him. He set a mental reminder to his senses to wake him up the next time someone came in close proximity with his body. Ergo, someone entering his cell to either feed him or dope him up. The former was too far-fetched and the latter too likely to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn't in a position to choose.


.


........


.


The sleep that came quickly left just as fast as Taro's eyes blinked open and took notice of the people in front of him.


His brows dropped pitifully as if he was about to cry when he saw the foremost person standing barely three feet from his bound form.


He knew this moment would come one way or another when he found out that the League of Assassins were sniffing out his trail.


Taro – the perfect living example of a calm mind: accurately based on the astute observations of a distraught, haunted, traumatized and homeless child – suddenly became a nervous wreck; sweating profusely and trembling in his chains as he came face to face with this particular woman.


He would have remained fearless and casual had he been in the presence of the Demon Head, Ra's al Ghul himself.


He has never met anyone in his life that scares him more than this woman in front of him. And unlike others, her strength and skill as a master martial artist was in no way a factor in why she terrified him.


"W-Wu-San, it is great to see you again." He said after poorly managing to get a hold of his nerves.


Behind Lady Shiva, Deathstroke who was currently unmasked raised a curious brow at the casual form of address their prisoner addressed her.


For clarification, even the leader of the fearsome League of Assassins, Ra's al Ghul, addressed her with respect by calling her Lady Shiva, as did everyone else.


A sign of respect to the woman who created a globally acknowledged name for herself with pure skill and strength.


Slade did not know of anyone who has ever addressed her by her real name, or spoke of it with such casual air.


But then he remembered his fight – the joke of one – with the chained up fatso and how he had used a pen of all things to fight against himself, Slade Wilson, the Deathstroke.


Subconsciously he nudged the trembling fatso to the same place he held the image of Lady Shiva in his mind. A step or two higher than even the Demon Head.


"H-how have you been d-doing? It has been over a couple years since I last saw you. I trust you are in good health, yes?"


Taro blurted out words that were both a mix of formal, casual and respectful speech patterns. Clearly, he was way in over his head.


"I greet you in kind, Sakamoto-dono." Lady Shiva returned his greetings with a slight bow of her head. "As for my wellbeing, I have remained in great health in the years we have not seen each other, which has been well over a decade, might I add. As for fulfillments, I have had one, two or three excitements in the last decade. Alas, unearthing talents is as hard as it is fulfilling."


How was he supposed to reply to that? He could not even get a grasp of the nature of their conversation. Were they friends? Familiar acquaintances, or simply respectable comrades?


"Then I'm glad." He tried shifting in his binds but the strained tension in his muscles reminded him just how bad that decision would be.


"I am sure we will have a lot of good stories from the last decade to share between us but first I'll have to ask you to release these binds, Wu-San. I cannot exactly share my stories in good spirit when I'm bound in iron shackles."


He gave a shaky laugh, one that tried but ultimately failed to mask his frayed nerves with humour. They frayed even more when he found himself under her long hard stare.


"Ra's has called for you. We'll be heading to his domain soon and it is with my respect for your person and your skills that you will remain bound to the utmost and drugged multiple times every day to reduce the high chance of you escaping." She said candidly. Her brisk words letting Taro know that no concession of any kind will be made.


Taro's eyes crinkled in bitterness. "Your opinions of me remains as high and bloated as ever. You overestimate me at every turn, Wu-San."


Lady Shiva took a single step forward towards Taro, her eyes never straying from his. "The fact that you can speak this fluidly and remain highly cognizant of your surroundings despite being bound and drugged multiple times in a 24hour circle, instead of being paralyzed from the crown of your hair to your soles as well as being semi-comatosed with barely any of your nerves functioning, clearly shows that you still remain a threat and a high risk factor despite being bound in chains and locked in a cell."


Behind Lady Shiva, Slade and Talia shifted away from their relaxed stances into something more accessing. Lady Shiva's words reminded them that the man currently bound in chains shouldn't even be able to breath loudly, or even twitch his eyelids, talk less of mentioning holding a casual conversation and having enough mental resilience to play nervous.


The dosage that was being administered to him daily was enough to kill a normal person ten times over by completely destroying all their nerve endings or instantly turning them into a vegetable.


"That reminds me Wu-San, what is that paralytic agent? I don't think it's something I've ever come across."


Slade's hands went to his blade in an instant. There was something about the way the older man bound in chains remained casual and curious when he shouldn't even be blinking rattled him.


He felt as if he was being snuck on, but the one who made him feel that way was bound in chains in a way that Slade himself knew he wouldn't be able to break out of.


He looked at Talia and could tell that she felt the same thing he did, but somehow managed to make herself half-relaxed in front of their prisoner. He chalked it up to them being familiar.


Hearing Taro's curious inquiry, Talia stepped forward, standing half a foot behind Lady Shiva.


"It was a gift I received from a woman I once lent aid to in the past. Poison Ivy's creations are one of a kind, and this one was a special case. I know about your unusual resilience to toxins, old teacher, so I had to bring something I knew you wouldn't have a strong enough defence against."


Taro looked at her and smiled. "So the student finally walks their own path? Good job on using pre-existing information to build up an even stronger trump card. Excellent execution as well."


In the face of his praise, Talia remained impassive, having already accepted a long time ago that his words no longer meant anything worthwhile to her. But still she listened.


"On the off chance that I resisted your killing stroke, what would you have done then?" Taro asked her.


"Your hypotheticals holds no weight. It is simply a matter of planning better than your opponent. I planned better, that is why you are currently bound in iron and chained to the cell." Talia replied with an air of assured confidence that only those who were familiar with the trials of success had.


Taro sighed tiredly. "At least something never changes. You still edge everything in a single killing strike."


He turned away from facing Talia to look back at Lady Shiva – more like moving his eyes between them – and chuckled sheepishly upon finding that her eyes still haven't left him for even a second.


"Would you mind answering a simple question, Wu-San?"


"Ask away. I'll decide if it warrants an answer." She replied.


"Where is she?" He simply asked. In the most plain and empty voice any of them had even heard.


Slade's hands wrapped calmly around the hilt of his sword, Talia's went for the two curved daggers on her waist. Lady Shiva remained the only one who didn't react to Taro's simple question.


And it was a simple question really.


"She's kept in another room and currently out of consciousness and she'll remain that way until we arrive."


"And why the special attention to her?" Taro asked inquisitively.


"The Demon Head has expressed an interest in her. Whatever he decides for her will become her new destiny."


TWANG!


The chains around Taro's hands instantly split apart with a sharp clang and fell to the ground with a heavy bang, but the man himself never moved. Not even a muscle.


He just kept staring hard at Lady Shiva, not even noticing that Slade's blade hung threateningly at the base of his neck.


"Are those the only questions you want to ask?" Lady Shiva asked while she remained staring unblinking at Taro, her face wearing the impassiveness of a calm lake, never reacting to anything he did, not even to the chains around his hands snapping off.


"Yes. Nothing else comes to mind. Unless you want me to ask about dinner rations."


"You will not be fed food or water until we arrive."


At this point what else could he do? He couldn't even say he was surprised. And yet people think he acts out being scared of her when she was always this cold and heartless.


"I'll be taking my leave now, Sakamoto-dono. If nothing changes and you remain in your cell, then the next time we'll meet is when I come to take you to Ra's."


Taro finally closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. "You make it sound like.... I have a choice."


Seeing that he was finally asleep, Lady Shiva retrieved a dosage of the paralytic agent and injected the sleeping Taro.


"Always have someone watching this cell. And under no condition should anyone step inside this cell other than to administer the dosage, regardless of whatever they might hear."


Slade had a frown on his face with his hands crossed over his chest. Seeing Lady Shiva's retreating figure, he couldn't help but speak out his suspicious thoughts.


"You make it sound like he'll try to escape before we get to the island."


Her steps halted by the door frame but she never turned around.


"He left on his own one day and never looked back. I doubt he will silently accept us forcefully taking him back."


"Then shouldn't you be the one to remain here to beat him back into his cell in case he does try to escape?"


"Mr. Wilson." Damn it! He hates it when she calls his name like that. "Sakamoto-dono has no interest in fighting us, not even me."


"And that means?" He asked impatiently, wondering where she was going with this.


"His only interest is in the girl and that's where I'll be. The fact that he sees her as more important than himself conversely makes her more important to Ra's than Sakamoto-dono himself."


She didn't speak any more than that as she retreated back to her quarters, the same place where she kept Raven hostage.


.


........


.


Every minute Taro spent expunging the paralysis drug they were stuffing him was one that drew him to that island. To the life he had left behind. To a conversation he didn't want to have.


This new drug however was terrifying with how the residue clung stubbornly to every part of his body even as he tried to process them out of his sweat pores.


'Are you sure you'll be fine? The amount they injected you with was worrying.' Raven hovered around him in an incorporeal form, having left her drugged physical body behind in Lady Shiva's room.


'Don't worry. If I can't push all of them out then I'll just concentrate the bulk of it and store them somewhere where they won't affect the rest of my body.'


'And what will you do with the pool of poison stored in your body?' Raven asked slowly, her put-on nonchalance giving way to good old scepticism.


'I'll cut it out when we get out of here.' He said easily as if that perfectly explained the ridiculousness of what he was doing.


What kind of control would one need to have on their own body to be able to isolate poison inside their own body and store it somewhere inside said body in order to retrieve it anytime it felt convenient?


She was almost tempted to ask him who taught him all the ridiculous things he knew how to do but forcefully abated her curiosity for a setting where they weren't kidnapped and drugged.


Taro's eyes opened softly behind his cracked glasses.


Raven couldn't even bring herself to be impressed when she saw that his hare-brained plan had worked.


'Now how are you going to get out of those chains without alerting the six assassin-guards outside?'


Raven had to shut her non-existent mouth up when she saw his skin folding in on each other. He was slowly losing weight in front of her eyes – going from pudgy and 'half step obese' to kinda chubby and 'near, but not quite there'.


'This will be enough. No need to go all the way.' He spoke mentally as he slowly released his joints and flexed them before fully stepping out of the now-loosened chains.


'That wicked woman.' He thought as he cracked his neck sideways. 'What kind of heavy chains are those?'


Under Raven's silently-yet-hardly shocked eyes, his body fat that had been compressed and contracted started loosening up until he was back to his normal fat bod.


'Those doors are sealed shut and can only be opened from the outside. How are you going to open....them? I guess that also works.'


This man who was her....guardian, helper...benefactor? This damned fat old man who definitely might or might not mean something to her kicked open a steel trapped door and it buckled.


Another kick as the door flew off its hinges and fell on three of the unfortunate guards that stood outside.


The remaining three guards distanced themselves from him with backflips and drew out their tanto–


Spit flew out of the mouth of the first guard as Taro drove a palm strike into his unguarded stomach that knocked him out.


The other two jumped away to opposite sides, leaving him in their middle, and threw shurikens at him which he easily caught between his fingers and then threw them all at the guard behind him before instantly closing the distance between him and the other guard and drove his heel to the guard's chin, knocking his lights off.


A back hand smack put an end to the last one who tried creeping up on him.


"Where's Wu-San's room?"


Raven pointed in the general direction and sat back as she got to experience Taro freely fighting.


------------------


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[Depth_]

Taro did not bother picking up any weapon since he wasn't really out to kill them, and also since he knew just how petty Ra's al Ghul, so he just made his way through the winding tunnels with the help of Raven.


There was no hiding that he had escaped since the sound of his cell door being kicked off its hinges probably travelled all through the wavy paths of this hideout.


The fact that they had him held in one of their hideouts meant that they were probably waiting for a transport plane to come pick up all of them, including Taro and Raven, and take them straight to the Demon's lair. Luckily for Taro and Raven, they hadn't been put on that plane.


Not even Taro could fight his way through an island of assassins.


'A few guards up ahead.' Raven gave him as much help as she could, which was not much, but to her defence this was also the first time she found herself in such a position.


"Do you have a way to detox your body? Or will I have to carry you out of here?"


'I don't really know any mundane or easy-fix spells. I do have a way to try, but I'm not sure if it'll work with me being astral.'


Taro on the other hand was thankful that this was pretty much a deserted base so he did not have to fight through dozens of assassins.


He came to the main intersection, the centre of the base, and waiting for him were the two figures he was expecting.


Talia was sharpening her daggers when he appeared and only stopped what she was doing when he walked up to meet them in the centre ring of the intersection. Deathstroke had his sword and gun at the ready.


"This won't go as it did the last time, buddy." The masked mercenary said as he pointed his blade at Taro.


"Old teacher Sakamoto, it aches me to see how far you've fallen." She brandished her short swords at him with an artful flair.


Taro looked a bit hurt at her dig. "Fat shaming." He murmured under his breath.


"Step aside, Talia. I only want to talk with Wu-San." He shivered at his own words. He never thought there'd come a day where he'd be the one actively seeking her out.


"How about a revision on fighting techniques? You were always fond of those, weren't you, old teacher?"


Taro could only sigh at that. His entire body radiated his disappointment and reluctance but that only seemed to stoke the flames of Deathstroke and Talia's fighting spirit.


Neither of them seemed to care that he didn't have any weapons. Talia saw it as fair, a testament to her valuation of him, while Deathstroke couldn't care less. He'd even prefer it if the man lost both arms as a handicap.


Three shots were fired in quick succession, and Deathstroke couldn't even bring himself to question how the man dodged all of them in such close distance, but that didn't matter as Talia was upon him with the ferocity of a wounded lioness.


Two more shots followed through the smallest window but Taro had already stepped out of the path of the first one and used Talia's over-extending blade to deflect the other one while also ducking under the kick Talia lashed out, specifically the knife jutting out of her shoes.


Deathstroke's blade was coming down so he quickly stepped into the swordsman's space and halted the slash by redirecting the path of his falling arm. Another shot was fired off at the side of his head. Too close.


He kicked Deathstroke back and immediately had to fight out of the way of Talia's flurry of slashes. Each slash and stab of her daggers were carried out with pinpoint precision and lethality.


She was fighting to kill him, or at least leave him greatly maimed while he was fighting to end the fight without injuring them too much. And she knew that as well, which only spurred her on.


His brows creased as a bullet flew past his ears with a sharp whizz, forcing his attention back to Deathstroke and the annoying gun in his hand.


Talia came in from behind but he quickly caught her wrist, twisted it, and kicked her at Deathstroke who was forced to halt his shot.


He looked at Talia's daggers in his hands and his brows involuntary twitched as his nose caught a whiff of an almost odourless scent that wafted from its edge. Poison, how typical.


Swish. Swish.


Good bone. Perfect sharpness. Perfect length. He was impressed. Talia was not.


This time Deathstroke advanced first, wanting to take on the bulk of his attention while Talia peppered him from the cracks.


The two bullets perfectly deflected off the blade's surface, with the last one being deflected in Deathstroke's direction, which he deflected to the side, but Taro was already in his range with that small window.


The white haired fatty might be true in his intent not to hurt them too much, but the precision of his attacks didn't fill Slade with such confidence.


If he hadn't hastily blocked that dagger with his sword, that thing would have undoubtedly seared into his shoulder blades. Why should he worry about such an attack if he was covered up in armour? Ask the damned fatty that.


The feeling he kept getting from the fatty was that all it would take to kill him was one strike. Deathstroke couldn't take those chances, armour or not.


He raised his other hand to fend off the man with a few shots but before he had the chance to pull back the trigger, the bastard lashed out his other hand and dismantled the top of his gun. All before he could get a shot off.


Deathstroke keeled over with a pained groan from the force of Taro's kick but was saved from whatever would've come next by Talia who rolled over his back with her blade aimed straight at her old teacher.


Her blade didn't find the purchase of red she hoped for but she did not falter. The moment one of her feet touched the ground she kicked out with the other one, forcing him back two steps to avoid the hidden blade.


Her hand lashed out in a flair, an unnecessary motion it might have seemed, but the three blades Taro had caught – two in his hands and one in his mouth – told another story.


Neither of them were keen in making him too comfortable in this deathly bout. Deathstroke showed this in how he rushed at Taro and came down with a hard swing that, while blocked, did nothing to stop his momentum.


The moment Taro blocked his heavy slash, he let go of his sword and caught the short sword flying up in his face mid-air as he flipped over Taro.


Talia caught Deathstroke's falling sword and slashed at Taro's legs as soon as Deathstroke jumped over him.


Taro however showed greater skill by calmly raising one leg up and quickly stepping down on the blade in the split moment it travelled under his foot.


He held his blade behind him and halted Deathstroke's stab. One attacked from the front while the other from behind; it might have looked like they had him in a tough spot but it was far from that. He had them dead to rights, and neither of both fighters looked pleased to admit it.


"Let's stop here." Taro's faint voice reverberated an old memory in Talia's mind and all it did was make her angrier.


All the voice reminded her of was her first betrayal. It belonged to someone who she had looked up to in the same way she did her father. It belonged to someone who had been her teacher, her only teacher.


It was the voice of someone who had taught her everything she knew. From language and numbers, to values and resolve, to strength and techniques – he had taught her everything she knew. Because he had been there for her since her earliest memories.


Only for him to disappear on a very normal day without so much as a word.


"I hate you." She spat out as she stared up at him with frigid eyes.


"I know." He accepted the hatred in her eyes. The ease at which he did it, with the same soft eyes he always held for her, made the venom in her heart bubble sinisterly.


"You knew... More than anyone, you knew..." She gritted out while never letting go of the blade he had underfoot.


It was something she could never understand, not because she wasn't smart enough, but because she knew exactly the kind of person he was.


The lack of an answer plagued her so much for the first five years after his disappearance that it affected both her mind and skill, that was until her father personally forced her to suppress her emotions and do away with those memories. And that was what she did for the next seven years.... Until it all started unravelling at the seams a few minutes ago.


".... So how could you?" It came out in a whisper that even Deathstroke who was behind him failed to hear her.


Taro's eyes broke off from her for a second as he grabbed the other hand trying to stab him from behind and turned to fully face Deathstroke.


Deathstroke tried to free his wrists but it felt like they were held in a reinforced steel vice. His fight and flight instincts screamed flight in the brief second their eyes met, but his stupid wrists just won't budge.


Slade Wilson, in his extensive career as Deathstroke, has brushed against death more times than he had fingers and toes and one of the main things that preserved his life was his abilities to judge his situation with prejudice, bias, or prideful thinking.


In the moment where their eyes met, in that fraction of a second, Slade Wilson, the legendary mercenary realized that, without a doubt, this deceitfully jovial and fat white haired man, Taro Sakamoto, could have killed him if he wanted to.


In that moment, his death was certain. In that moment, Slade Wilson, The Deathstroke, finally met Taro Sakamoto, The Assassin.


"Excuse us for a second." The man's whisper-like voice flowed into his ears at the same time that a momentous force kicked him flying into the tunnel behind him.


Finally taking care of Deathstroke, Taro turned back to Talia who still remained kneeling with her head down and her fingers gripping tight the hilt of Deathstroke's sword.


"Talia..."


"How could you?" He heard her say in such a fragile voice, one he had never heard her speak with. The Talia he knew could be a lot of things, but fragile wasn't one of them. He had personally made sure of that.


Her head tilted a little bit upwards and that was when he saw it.


Her trembling lips. In that moment he knew that something was wrong.


"Talia." He called out to her while reaching for her shoulders but she slapped his hand away harshly.


"I thought a lot of you while growing up." She spoke as if the very words leaving her lips were an afterthought. "I thought you immutable. I thought you venerable. I thought you perfect. I thought you flawed. I thought you invisible.... And I thought you human too."


He frowned. Her words bringing up memories of decades past. Memories of him teaching her to do away with rigid thoughts, especially of how she thought of him, and instead make it constantly fluid.


She was his student, one of the very few he actually taught, and the one he taught the longest. He knew she would likely be hurt with his disappearance, he expected as much, but that was it.


He was missing something. The look in Talia's eyes told him as much.


"But even after all that, you did something I never thought you would do. I could have expected something like that from my father. Anyone else, but not you." Her voice was soft and fleeting but all it did was weigh more on Taro's mind.


It was so jarring that it felt like Taro was meeting Talia for the first time.


His mind churned for clues on what he might have done – which was a lot – that might have affected her like this – of which he had no clue.


He had wandered around and joined the League of Assassins when he was barely an adult. He needed a conducive environment to practice and hone his techniques and Ra's had offered the younger him an island of assassins. There was no better environment than this to hone the craft he had picked up a few years ago.


His younger passion and full-time investment in his craft made him far above those he'd have called his peers. Ra's had noticed, and had let the talented young man become one of the instructors for his young daughter. A bare child hardly ten years old.


He travelled all around the world in search of new inspiration for his craft and whenever he returned, he'd teach the young Talia all that she could learn. He even went ahead and taught her some of his most prized techniques that he never taught anyone else. All this was just because she shared the same inquisitive passion as he did.


He taught her as any teacher worth their title would: he went over and beyond for his most talented student.


He watched her take her first kill. Watched her carry out her first torture. Watched her go through her first torture. Watched her forge her first bond of friendship. Watched her kill her bestfriend on a lesson on how to strengthen her resolve.


Those thoughts came back to him so fast because he could never forget them.


He was among the few people, of which included Ra's al Ghul and Wu-San, that cultivated her into the accomplished assassin she was.


She was not some simple woman, in some ignoble town, that was easily besot by complex emotions. He trained her above such trivialities.


And that was why seeing her like this unsettled him a good deal. He would have been fine if she simply hated him with all her being. He had trained her to the point where she wouldn't hesitate to kill him if she had a reason to, and the chance to.


They were assassins after all.


"Talia, what is the meaning of this?" He took a step forward and had to consciously hold himself back from reverting back to her instructor.


She finally looked up at him and all the negative emotions she had for him were put aside for now to ask him the questions she needed answers to.


There were hints of red around her eyes but no signs of a tear shed.


"Was it another one of your lessons? All these years, was it just another test from you and him?" She asked, much to Taro's confusion.


He shook his head. "I don't know what you speak of, but I can assure you that you're wrong in your assumptions."


"Then why? That is all I want to know? Why? And why you?"


This time he kept silent and she must have taken that for something else he couldn't understand because she slowly rose to her feet and held up the sword in a stance, drawing the hilt to the side of her head.


"How about one more lesson, old teacher?"


He frowned.


"Right here, right now. Kill your student. Or let her kill you. Sever, with your own hand, the lifetime bond between master and student. Just like any of your old lessons, old teacher, make your choice."


She waited no longer for whatever words he had to say and commenced a life and death duel with her old teacher.


Taro could tell with a glance that she was committed to fight and die in this duel and while he had no intentions of greatly harming her, she failed to share the same sentiments.


"Stop this at once, Talia." His voice, always soft and faint, carried with it a clarity that Talia couldn't ignore.


She fought him while dual-wielding a katana and a tanto with such masterful skill that every stroke of her blade was a kill strike. All it would take was one strike to kill her opponent.


Taro on the other hand was increasingly baffled. Things had taken a bizarre turn with Talia all of a sudden and he wasn't sure what kind of conclusion they would come to if they kept fighting like this.


"Stop this, Talia." She ignored his words, going straight for his throat the moment he spoke.


She was brutally calm and focused on killing Taro that nothing else mattered.


"I won't kill you, Talia. Best stop this now." He said to her as he clashed blades with her sword, but not before twisting his blade around her sword so he could use the pommel of his to stop her tanto, effectively trapping his blade between her sword and her tanto.


"I won't kill you, Talia. I don't want to." His words were completely serious that it made Talia falter.


"If you can't do that, then how could you have been so vile back then?" She asked, confusing him once more as he had no idea of what she was referring to.


In all his memories, he had always been her teacher. Nothing more, nothing less. He had been the strictest with her and could vividly remember breaking her bones more times than the total number of bones she had in her body.


But all that fell under his purview as her teacher. The other assassins of the League went through similar training as she did so that couldn't be it.


"I have no recollection of being so vile to you to push you this far against me. What kind of man and teacher would I have been if I continually tortured you flor nothing more than my own pleasure?"


Try as he might but he couldn't recall what he might have done at any point in the past to hurt her this much. He had been her teacher and nothing more.


The only thing that came to mind was him leaving without a word but even that wouldn't have hurt her this much. She might have felt betrayed that her teacher ran away without a word, but she would have seen that as betrayal towards the League and not simply to herself.


Once again, they were assassins and he had been her teacher for most of the time. That was all it had been.


Her eyes trembled but the hurt Taro could see behind them ran so deep that it was almost impossible to cause with physical harm.


"What kind of man will I have to be to hurt someone so deep and yet remain ignorant of why I did it?" His words were said trying to convince her of his unintended ignorance, but that thought froze when he saw a stream of tears running down her cheek.


"You tell me." Her voice had never sounded so frail and broken as it did when she spoke.


"What kind of father abandons their child without so much as a parting word or a farewell?"


Taro Sakamoto froze. He finally saw the hurt in her eyes.





######################





Taro: O _ O


Depth: o _ O


You: O ~ O'

 

[Depth_]

The world froze for Taro Sakamoto.


Those words froze Taro Sakamoto.


Unbidden, his mind surged with memories, before they shifted, no longer from his point of view, but from that of the young lady in front of him.


As if to twist the knife in his guts deeper, even though he could see it play out in front of him, he still couldn't see when his image changed from that of a teacher to what she must've known him by all this time.


He could see, but he struggled to understand. All he could see in his memories was him as an assassin, nothing more, nothing less.


But then he locked his eyes with hers. And there the answer was.


It came as a new perspective, but slowly understanding unravelled.


In her eyes, he had been the only constant thing that was there. Not the assassins. Not the instructors. And not even her own father, Ra's al Ghul. Out of everyone and everything she had known on that island, he had been the only one who kept returning.


And only now, after a decade, could he understand a hint of what he had done to her after he left. It had been cruel. He hadn't known then. He had yet to understand the importance of familial connection at the time. But still, it had been cruel.


.


.......


.


[POV: Talia al Ghul]


She watched as he froze at the utterance of her words. It wasn't just his hands that stopped, his breath and the movement of his eyes came to a cold halt. Even the tell of intent was gone from him.


For the first time in her life, she saw as her old teacher's guard crumbled. Not from ambushes or sneak attacks.... but from her words.


What she had never managed to accomplish in all her years under him, in all the spars they had, she had now done so. Not with the steel of a cold blade. Not with the deviousness of her cunning.


All it had taken were a few soft words.


Along with that realization came a thought, one that was first nature to her: She could deliver a fatal strike while his guard was still down.


She thought of it but her fingers seemed to have lost whatever strength they had over the blades in her hands.


She couldn't help but recall all those years that now seemed like a distant memory.


She had been a child, even worse a daughter, living under the legacy that was Ra's al Ghul. The Demon Head would not allow her disappointed birth remain a disappointment and so for as far back as her memory could go, all she could remember was punching and kicking at air until her child muscles ached.


Everything was so that she could be brought up as one deserving of her father's acknowledgement. So she could one day be called the Demon's proud heir.


Everything else was both fleeting and unimportant, that is until he came.


"My masters once told me that the bond between teacher and student lasts a lifetime. And also one of the hardest bonds to cut. Greet your teacher."


She hardly reached his waist at the time and he was hardly what anyone would call an adult. But age hardly mattered among assassins, skill and strength did.


Unlike her instructors who were replaced any time she advanced or failed in something, this particular one stayed.


Back then he hadn't been in charge of her combat training, only teaching her efficiency in killing, but that soon changed as she started advancing through her classes.


Starting with languages he taught her – Japanese, Chinese and Korean – he soon started teaching her body movements and how to interpret them. A year or two later and he was teaching her how to effectively switch between a series of weapons in the middle of combat.


Her instructors left. Her father, Ra's al Ghul, hardly came by to observe her training. Even her peers at the time slowly disappeared until it was only her in that big empty training hall.


"Half the key to staying calm in a fight is acknowledging that you'll get hurt. Half the key to surviving through a fight is getting used to being hurt." Those words resounded in her ears like the beating of a war drum.


"You can win a fight by getting hurt, but torture is different. Whether you survive or not matters little. You can only survive torture by how deeply you can understand pain. And that is what I'll be teaching you: Pain."


Hell followed through that year. Broken bones, broken fingers, blades stabbed into different parts of her body, searing burns, frigid cold, electrocution – he made sure to associate his name with hell. But yet he stayed.


Sometimes he'd break her bones or twist her muscles and then have her spar with him for hours through the pain, and then at the end of it he'd have her correct her bones and loosen her muscles. If she couldn't then she'd be with them for days until he was merciful enough to correct them.


She could remember crying silently in her room every single night for years but she'd return to that hall every morning and he'd always be there.


"Take this. It is an ornamental dagger so it's not very useful in battle. I made it myself as congratulations to you for going above the expectations I placed on you. From henceforth, you are officially my student."


That was the first time she'd gotten a gift. A golden engraved dagger with the Japanese inscription 'Always survive' written along its side.


And then came the missions. It was only at that moment that she understood the meaning of that dagger. Where other assassins died, she survived. Assassination attempts, both off and on the island, she always survived.


And slowly, she no longer hated those memories of pain. Instead she grew increasingly grateful to them. Where her peers and elders died or fell short, she triumphed. And through it all, he still remained.


So one day she went to him and said the words that would change everything.


"Teach me more."


And teach her he did. The pain resumed, greater than it did before, but she endured even better. She no longer cried in the dark nights, nor did she curse the memories of him and the pain he brought. She would go to that dark hall and he'd always be there.


She had been the one wanting to take that next step. The step that led to heights only her teacher and father, and only a scant few, stood.


He taught her resilience. He taught her resolve. He ran the full length of a katana through her and slowly pulled it out, she never screamed. She pushed for more. He told her to kill her friend, she did. And then she went ahead and killed every one of her peers she was the tiniest bit casual with.


He rewarded her. He taught her how to breathe and that had changed everything. Her teacher had taught her an exoteric technique that his masters had taught him.


And she yearned for more. And as deep as she yearned, and excelled, he taught.


Sometimes he'd be gone for weeks and months for missions or personal reasons, but he'd always return. And when he did, there'd always be something new to teach her. They would speak, he would teach, she would ask, he would listen.


She had kowtowed, knees firmly on the ground and her head pressed even deeper.


"Talia's greatest fortune is teacher choosing to teach her. Till Talia falls to a blade, teacher will always be her Master. Hopefully in her next life as well."


She bowed three times to him. She paid her utmost respect to the bond he had sired between them on that auspicious day he stepped into her training hall.


His arms were crossed as he looked down at her with those calm and piercing eyes behind round glasses.


"Hmm, so you want to learn more? I see no problems with that, but not right now. Before I will teach you anything else, you will have to master an aspect of your assassination."


He had stood up and beckoned for her to follow and she was right behind him, as dutiful and precise as she's always been. He had led her to her weapon's rack and pointed at the myriads of weapons hung on it, each she was intimately familiar with.


"You can be called many things, Talia. A prodigious assassin. A deadly assassin. An excellent assassin even, but that is it. All it shows is that you are good at the craft you've been taught. A disciple of assassination, not a master of it. To be a master assassin, you have to master an aspect of assassination. You know what you prefer more, choose it. Elevate it. Master it. Then, and only then, will I teach you something new. Something better."


That had been it. She had arrived before the steps and her teacher had told her how to take the first one.


If she could master an aspect of assassination, automatically her epithet would be known all over the world. In their world where your skill speaks loud of you, mastering a killing path would put her name, not at the same height, but at the same level as her teacher.


If The Assassin himself said she was ready to be called as he, then she would toil till her blood dried to prove that he was right.


And she would do it all – master a killing path, become a master assassin, gain both recognizable respect and epithet in the world of shadows – just so she could continue learning from him. The man that has always been there.


The resolve in her heart, long past had it been to gain Ra's al Ghul's acknowledgement that all that it held smouldering within was the desire to continue making him proud.


It would take years to master an aspect, and that would always be the easy path. Many spent their lives and wasted away without truly mastering one, but she would succeed where they failed. She wasn't blind to the nigh-impossibility of the task set before her, nor was she arrogant enough to believe it'd be easy – it wouldn't – but still she cared little.


First would be choosing an aspect to focus on for the years to come. Polish it to her perfected limit....and then she'd hunt down those who excelled at the same path she was about to thread on.


That was what she decided, and he had left her to it. They still sparred, and he still taught her, but never anything new.


And that was how it was until one day where he abruptly disappeared.


He had taught her the previous day to the mid of night, and when she went to their training hall he wasn't there. She thought nothing of it because he always went on missions without telling her.... She had thought that until she didn't. Until her father had called her.


He had specifically called her to his chambers for the first time in fifteen months and personally gave her the news that her teacher, Taro Sakamoto, had defied him and the League of Assassins by walking away.


"The Assassin has severed his ties with me, and by extension, the League of Assassins. He is no longer one of us, and as such, he is deemed your teacher no longer. Dismiss."


That had been Ra's words and she could remember leaving that dark room with great confusion in her heart and calm in her mind.


Her teacher taught her how to be a master assassin. Words couldn't shake her, no matter how cutting they were. He had left, and that was it.


'It hurts.'


She went back to that empty hall and began practicing. Nothing had changed. Her forms, her techniques, her weapons – she still had to perfect them. Nothing else mattered other than becoming a master assassin.


'It hurts.'


So she trained.


'It hurts.'


Her bones cracked. Her blood dried.


'Lies. He'd never leave. He always comes back.'


Days and weeks passed. Slowly and surely, she was confident enough to take out her first mark to further master her aspect. The years and decades to come will be arduous, but she'll succeed at the end. She'd master this path if it was the last thing she did.


'Lies. He'll come back. He promised to teach again when I become a master assassin. So he'll come back.'


Years passed, she had yet to master her killing path. A few short years wasn't enough to master an aspect that'll put your name out to the entire underworld. It had been so long that she couldn't even remember if the fight against her first mark had been an easy one or not. Time makes people forget these things.


But she could still remember that night, years years ago, where she once again cried silently in her room. And the nights that followed.


Because he never returned.


All those nights, slowly turning from days to weeks, to months, she silently cried herself to sleep because her teacher never returned.


Her father never returned.


.


..........


.


He looked at her as she looked at him. Their eyes never strayed from each other's, and in them were things too heavy to fit into words.


But there was one thing they both shared in this instance; both were hurt. One by choices made, and the other by realization.


It was not the same but the feelings were there. Was that all that mattered? Maybe. Maybe not. They wouldn't know either way.


For Taro, the impact of everything was so tremendous that for the first time for as far as he could remember, the living myth known as The Assassin faltered.


He tried to speak but the words couldn't come. It also said a lot about how the current Taro differed from his past and younger self.


If this had been back then, his younger self would have simply dismissed her and found a way to kill that thought from her mind. He probably would have tripled her exercises for that day and would have left her with a quarter of her body's bones displaced.


Any word that came to his mouth tasted sour so all he could do was call her name.


"Talia...."


He didn't know how to react to her. All he had ever known her as, all she ever was to him, was his extremely talented and curious student. One who was so focused on assassination that nothing else mattered, except training and learning.


And now, all of a sudden he is confronted by his grown up student after almost thirteen years, all for her to rage at him and blindly challenge him to a death duel, which was mildly understandable, and out of nowhere indirectly called him her father. Or at least sometime or somewhere along the way, she had come to see him as one.


The fact that he was this shocked by her words also showed how human – soft and weak – he'd grown to be in the last decade.


"Talia..." What more could he say? Chastise her words? Chide her? Apologize to her? Or ignore her?


Talia's eyes scanned him and she gave him a hollow scoff, her eyes looked just like she sounded.


"Of course... After all these years and you still won't say a word. Why should I have expected anything else?" She slowly withdrew her blades, the will to fight leaving her. For the first time in thirteen years, she momentarily lost the strength to swing her blade.


"I..." Taro's mouth opened but no words came out, no words wanted to come out, so he forced one out regardless.


"I'm...sorry." He ended up apologizing. Why specifically? He had no idea. It was the only thing that tasted least sour in his mouth.


A spark of venom filled her eyes. "I don't need your apologies. I no longer need anything from you."


The two of them stood before the other, their thoughts and emotions too muddled for them to comfortably think through.


Talia moved first, stepping out of his way. "I won't bar your path any longer. Lady Shiva is expecting you."


Taro could only sigh at that. His priority hadn't changed but something about this particular situation rubbed him the wrong way. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to deal with it, or even what to say to make it a little....better?


He scratched the side of his head and glanced towards where Raven had silently stood all this while and nodded towards her.


"I'm sorry....little one." He apologized again, calling her by what he used to call her sometime ago. A very long time ago.


He was almost gone from the centre intersection when he heard her speaking.


"That girl," she had started, "is she your student?"


Taro hesitated, mulling the words, before replying. "Not exactly. It's a little...complicated."


"Then I pity her even more." Her words were cold and cutting but lacked a hostile edge because she said it not out of bitterness, but with clarity and certainty.


"Should she ever come to look up to you for even a fraction of how much I did then I pity her even more. She'd open her eyes one day and you'd be gone without a word."


She chuckled, a hoarse and empty thing. "Truly the mark of The Assassin. You'll mercilessly kill her everything in an instant, and then be gone in that very instant."


They both walked away in silence. He never replied to her, and she had no other words to say to him.


He silently followed behind Raven as she led him to their last obstacle, and the most hardest one for more reason than one.


Raven could tell that his mind was split in two and the part that wasn't focused on their current mission was wrecked with churning emotional thoughts. While she might not be able to read his mind or even his intent right now, she could tell that his brief confrontation with that woman shook him a bit. A bit higher than most things did.


But she did not ask about it. The whirlpool of emotions around them when they fought had been so complex and complicated that she would rather not touch it.


She had her own secrets, one she would only share if she wanted to and if she could trust who she was sharing it with. All she'd do was wait until Taro was ready to tell her what that had been about.


And then there were the woman's last words but she preferred not to think about it. She had more important things to worry about.


They had arrived in front of Lady Shiva's room.

 

[Depth_]

Taro walked into the room without any hesitation, with a dreadfully casual flair to his steps, and started looking around.


"You decorated?" He asked, staring specifically at the soft rug that was happily spread over every inch of the room. "You come here often?"


"A few times." She answered easily.


Taro nodded in understanding, pointing at the ground still. "Rug?"


Lady Shiva shrugged. "Not mine. It is..."


"Expensive. Expensive is what it is." Taro interjected, helpfully completing her sentence for her.


He went around the little table in the centre of the room and came to sit on the edge of the bed where Raven's unconscious body lay.


"How is she?" He asked softly.


Lady Shiva just as easily and casually gave him his answer, standing at the head of the bed and leaning against its frame. "She'll be out for the rest of the day if nothing is done."


"Antidote?"


"Second drawer on the left."


Taro sighed as he stood up to finally face his old acquaintance. She was the closest thing to a friend he would have had if the both of them weren't so focused on their craft at the time, instead of engaging in trivialities.


"What do you want, Wu-San?" He asked. She was the most straight forward person he knew, yet she always made dealing with her a difficult and stressful affair.


"What do you think I want, Sakamoto-dono? Are you at least prepared to give something for a bargain?"


See? Unnecessarily difficult.


He scratched his head, wondering if he actually had anything of worth to offer and the answer came up a resounding no. He deflated.


"It seems not, Sakamoto-dono. Then please step aside. You have my word that no harm will come to her, except through Ra's direct order." She offered her word despite knowing that he wouldn't accept it. He was just as stubborn as she was.


"Can't. Came here for her." Taro shook his head sadly, already knowing what was about to come. And he wasn't wrong.


The knife that sailed greedily to his neck hidden under the turd of flesh he called a chin was caught in its voracious attempt by two chopsticks.


Lady Shiva's eyes twitched for a moment, scanning the whole room in tenths of a second, and confirming that yes, her chopsticks had gone missing. Despite it being there by the time he'd crossed over to the bed.


"How aggravating. Your skills have grown dull." She remarked dispassionately.


"You think this comes with discipline?" He sarcastically retorted while silently gesturing to his whole body.


She sounded as calm as ever, not at all like someone who had just tried to kill him, and he sounded too relaxed, not at all like someone who they just tried to kill.


"If it'll assuage your worries, know that Ra's doesn't see you dead." She offered.


"I'm not worried about Ra's." Taro snorted as he threw the knife and watched it pin itself on the centre of the table.


"Of course you wouldn't be worried about him." She agreed easily, almost like it was natural. "But that doesn't stop you from answering his calls. It'll stop me from having to hunt you down at another time."


"I'll think about it on my way out."


The words hardly flew past his lips before Lady Shiva's hands came at him with the speed of a bullet. Her fingers were raised and curled, like the claws of a tiger, and that was exactly the ferocity and danger it carried.


He held the chopsticks together and smacked her hand away with it as it came around with such unrealistic force that it temporarily declawed the tiger in its hunt.


Like flowing water, she didn't even react like it had hurt, and brought the hand back while the other one went forward in reprisal.


He let the hand come close, knowing exactly just how dangerous and daring the decision was, and barely caught it under the wrist while the chopsticks came pointing down as if intent in stabbing her through.


A feint.


Her other hand came forward, aiming to cut the most dangerous thing Taro currently carried – other than his body that is – and succeeded as it cleanly sliced through the chopsticks before they could stab through her pressure points.


The other arm Taro held suddenly changed its form. It had been shot straight and fast as an arrow but now it wriggled and slithered in Taro's grasp and easily slipped out of it as it aimed for his heart. It's intent cold and venomous as a snake's.


The other hand once again exposed its claws as it hunted for Taro's neck with renewed thirst.


Both the average and prodigious martial artists would have been dead, crippled or maimed against Lady Shiva's first two attacks. But Taro was neither average or prodigious, and they both knew this.


His right hand twisted and coiled like a whip and suddenly sprung towards his left where the snake darted centimetres from his heart. The whip wrapped around the snake's neck and with his thumb pressing into the middle of her palm, he defanged the serpent.


In the same motion with which he struck as the serpent hand, he also pulled himself into Lady Shiva's body and hence evaded the tiger's hunt while also body-checking her in the process. Three fluid motions all done with a single action.


He pushed up the half chopsticks that were still held in his palm and stabbed into her eyes as his shoulders shoved her backwards.


His hand were soon held in a clasp as both of her arms wrapped around his wrist, but that didn't stop Taro as he used a single finger to flick back one of the chopsticks towards his mouth, caught it, and instantly spat it out back at her like a bullet.


She tilted her head, no signs of rush or panic in her motions, but she wasn't fast enough as it struck a line of blood across her cheek.


She still didn't flinch at the wound, remaining perpetually calm, and kicked out her leg towards his stomach only for it to be stopped between his thigh and the elbow that dug mercilessly into it and twisted all the muscles in that part of her leg.


He dropped down to avoid the hand that tried grabbing his head, then leaned to the side to avoid the other one that came for his head. He narrowly dodged it but it had ripped off the shoulder section of his shirt.


"I don't have time for this Wu-San." He avoided most of her attacks and redirected the others. "How about we do it some other time? Hmm?"


They both separated from each other, Taro sporting a few tears on his shirt and nothing else while Lady Shiva had an injury on her cheek, twisted muscles on her leg, two broken fingers on her left hand, and a partially paralyzed pinky on her right hand.


"This will get us nowhere." He huffed.


"Be that as it may." She fixed the two broken fingers on her left hand by simply pressing on them with her thumb and then disperse the paralysis in her pinky by flexing it twice.


As for the twisted muscles on her leg, she simply stood and controlled the muscles around the affected area to untangle themselves. All the while never flinching once in their whole exchange.


Why would she flinch in the first place when she could simply turn off all the pain receptors in her brain?


"I see you haven't lost your ruthless edge. That is good to know." She sounded even more lifeless and empty than Raven on her best day, Taro thought.


'Done yet?'


'... Still focusing.. Almost there... Two minutes.'


"Are you buying time for someone?" Taro asked, wanting to do anything else than fight her in this moment.


She gave him no reply but simply centred herself for the next round.


Taro sighed. "Figures."


They were barely an arms length from Raven's face as there was hardly any place for them to move to in this small room. He doubted she'd listen to him if he said they should take it behind the doors so he didn't bother.


Even after all these years she still remained a pain to deal with.


Surprisingly, she spoke for once without being prompted. "Though I'm certain you've grown weaker, I thought that I would have breached a common ground between our skills in the last decade, but now I'm glad that isn't the case. Even weak, you still remain easily stronger than most. You're truly something, Sakamoto-dono."


"Eh...thanks?" Really? Poisoned needles? He rolled his eyes as he flicked all of them out of the way.


His moustache gave an irritated twitch when he saw her move the moment he did. Her innate ability to cold read the human body like a spoken language was quite the annoying skill to work around but he luckily found a way to do just that(and it was one of the hardest things he's ever done), but it looks like it's been so long that a few things were slipping through the cracks.


It looks like he'll have to put a tad more intent in his strikes. And he did just that.


She used the moment he'd flicked the needles away to get behind him with a movement technique she'd copied from him twenty years ago, which was also one of the main reasons he searched for a way to counter her cold reading, and set in motion to drive her elbow straight into his spine.


Not only that, but she also threw two more needles that harmlessly sailed past Taro only for them to ricochet off the other and start flying back towards Taro.


If he turned around to stop her, the needles would pierce him on the back. If he remained facing the needles and tried to stop her with one hand or his legs, she'd be able to run three new different attacks in the moment before the needles got to him.


The time given to analyse, anticipate and react to her attacks were a quarter of a second, and Taro responded in a timely manner.


The last bit of chopsticks in his hand flew into the air he turned towards her, hands set and palms open to catch her elbow, and perfectly set themselves on the path of the needles to effectively block it, despite piercing halfway through.


He caught her elbow, and having already anticipated and predicted her next viable attacks, started his action a fraction before she started hers.


His punch socked her across the face and flipped her over the table with so much force that by the time she regained her bearings and corrected her landing mid-air, she had already landed right in front of the door all the way across the room.


She wiped the smear off her lips with her sleeves, her eyes still on him, which was the reason she brought her hands together after understanding that he had crossed the room and was right in front of her.


Her bones rattled but were otherwise fine as the last second movement of her feet displaced a lot of the force that ran into her body.


She was now outside the room, arms still crossed in her block, realizing quickly that Taro had punched her through the doors.


She could still feel her bones vibrating and that told her with wizened clarity that she had failed to push him anywhere near his limit.


"Stay put for a second." She heard him say as he went over to the girl's side.


Taro reached her bedside and saw that her breath had changed. A bit freer and conscious.


"Are you okay?"


"Y...es." Raven murmured as her eyelids cracked open. "It was a lot harder than I thought."


"I'll help." His fingers blurred as they struck specific pressure points that instantly made her breathing clearer. "Take it easy for now. The bulk of it will fizzle out of your body in an hour or two."


Whatever spell she'd done had drastically decreased the time it would have taken for him to flush it out of her.


"Can you walk?" She took a moment to move her legs a bit and then gave him a nod.


"Let's get out of here."


He turned around and saw that Lady Shiva was already gone, and contrary to what most might think, that was a bad sign.


"Let's hurry." He didn't give Raven a chance to react, object, or agree before he picked her up in his arms and broke off in a sprint towards the exit of wherever here was.


It took them less than thirty seconds to exit the tunnels and find themselves under a canopy of trees.


He followed the marks of a path that led him through the trees to what was hopefully the end/beginning of this forest.


"There are some people ahead. I think they are fighting." Raven informed him as soon as they broke through the trees into a more open area. Taro thought about it for a moment and headed in the direction she'd indicated.


The moment Taro cleared a particular rock formation, he caught sight of the fight Raven had sensed and instantly recognized every party involved.


Whatever he was thinking fizzled out as he whirled and grabbed something that had been right in Raven's face.


Smoke left his hand as he opened it to reveal a slightly longer caliber of a high-powered sniper rifle.


His eyes immediately locked on a spot not too far from where Batman and Nightwing were engaged in combat against Deathstroke and Talia.


He flipped the bullet in his hand and studied it briefly before looking up back at spot, but slightly more to the right this time.


"Cain."


Raven felt the outer shell of his irritation bubble for a bit when he mentioned that name. As for the fact that she'd almost died, well, she pushed it aside after confirming that she'd survived. She has gotten used to walking off close calls.


She heard him sigh first before gently letting her to the ground.


"What are we going to do?" She asked.


"Well, we've been trying to get to the Justice League and there they are." Taro patted her on the head. "Let's go."


Taro's eyes kept moving along a line in the distance. He was actively tracking David Cain's movement and so far the man had changed positions seventeen times to try and throw him off, but his locations started becoming easier to single out the closer Taro got.


He could have simply gone the other way as soon as he realized who they all were, but he chose not to.


The main/easiest reason was Raven. Running was no longer an option, especially how restless she grew in the past few days.


The other reason was also partly because of the child in his care, but the decision had been spurred on by the people present.


David Cain – one of the world's very best. A master assassin and fighter.


Lady Shiva – one of the world's very best. A master assassin and arguably one of the world's foremost martial arts masters.


Talia al Ghul – heir of the Demon. A terrifying and deadly assassin. One of the world's very best. And also a master assassin and fighter.


Deathstroke – one of the world's very best. The world's greatest mercenary. A deadly assassin and an even deadlier fighter.


These were the people Ra's had sent out to look for him. Even going as far as to temporarily paralyze an entire town just to get to him.


Taro had to give it to the man. He knew how to send a message. And he knew how to make sure it didn't go ignored.


The moment they stepped into visible range, the four fighters took notice and suddenly stopped fighting.


Taro stopped and kept staring ahead of them, much to the confusion of the two heroes, and he kept at it for three minutes where no one spoke, until David Cain stood from where he hid.


Neither he nor Raven missed the masked surprise and increased tension that took over the two heroes.


"David Cain..." Spoke the grim and grave voice of the Batman at the appearance of the older man holding a sniper rifle loosely.


Just then Lady Shiva arrived and the heaviness in the atmosphere was doubled.


"We no longer have any business with you today, Bat. You will do well to leave while you can." Lady Shiva spoke up before promptly turning to the silent pair of Taro and Raven.


"You've made a decision, I take it?"


All eyes drew to Taro. On the veiled heroes' part there was mostly hidden confusion. Taro was a new and unknown element, one whose importance instantly skyrocketed the moment Lady Shiva of all people addressed him.


Everything went quiet, except for the soft whispers of the wind, as they waited for Taro to speak.


He sighed. One filled with great annoyance.


"Raven, go with the heroes." He said to the girl who silently stared up at him like an emotionless mannequin.


"And you?"


He scratched his head before replying. "I'll go with them. For now."


Nothing was said but she just continued staring at him with her usual blankness. She said nothing, only stared at him before turning to look at the heroes with her usual blank gaze.


She didn't react when Taro's hands came upon the hood of her cloak and softly assured her.


"Don't worry, I'll be back soon."


"Mmn." She gave a short hum before walking towards the heroes, ignoring everything else around her, even when David Cain and Lady Shiva took a step forward.


"She comes with us." David Cain's hoarse and emotionless voice cut through the silence as he took a step towards the walking Raven, not at all caring for heroes' presence.


That was until Taro took a single step forward. David Cain stopped his march towards Raven and whirled around to aim his gun at Taro who just stood after that single step and kept staring at him.


The air grew increasingly tense and the heroes quickly put themselves in front of the stranger girl and watched as Lady Shiva, David Cain, Talia and Deathstroke stared hard at the fat white haired man. The two men hovered their hands around their weapons and looked tensed for combat, while the two women just stared impassively at him.


"She'll go with the heroes. And he'll come with us."


At Talia's words, the tension abated and immediately they turned to leave, no longer interested in the presence of the heroes.


Taro looked behind and saw Raven staring at him so he gave her a smile along with his biggest thumbs up. His thoughts flew out unobstructed to her.


'Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it.'


-----------------------------


Patreøn.cøm/1stDepth.com

 

[Depth_]

Watching as the group of assassins retreated, Batman's tension eased up a little. They had been up a creek and Batman was well aware of the unamused stare his first son was giving him.


It might have been controlled impulse that led him on a chase against Lady Shiva and Deathstroke but what he did not expect was that man, David Cain's presence.


He had back up of course, but that did not mean that the situation hadn't escalated into something that had been out of his ability to control.


"Well that happened." Nightwing remarked as the five figures were completely out of sight.


"Hrn." Batman grunted. He was not too happy.


Nightwing scoffed. "That'll teach you not to fly off into a fit of whatever this is." His response was a glare, but once again, it was rendered ineffective.


As if on cue, both of them turned to their new stranger. A young girl. Nightwing's trauma senses were already going off when he saw the utterly blank look on her face that was yet to take on a hint of expression.


Before Batman could get a word out, Nightwing drifted to her front with a disarming smile on her face.


"Hey, sooo we're kind of out of the loop right here, mind helping us out? I'm Nightwing, and big and dark over there is Batman. What's your name?"


"Raven." She answered, somehow making the smile on Nightwing's face grow softer.


"Glad we got that out of the way." His voice grew lower at the end of his sentence and his eyes couldn't help but trail where the assassins had disappeared to. "Who was that with you, and do you know why those assassins were after you guys?"


She fell silent for a moment, one they both could read as hesitation, before replying. "I don't really know. They were after Taro, not me."


"Taro? Your dad?" She shook her head. Batman decided to step in at that moment.


"If the League is after this Taro, then he is either dangerous or something he knows is dangerous. What do you know about him?"


This time she didn't hesitate. "He can fight."


That information however didn't mean much to the heroes. The League of Assassins, not to mention Ra's strongest hit squad, wouldn't just go after someone who could fight. Technically, everyone member of the League could fight. It made more sense that Ra's was after something else. Something that was tied to the man named Taro, or maybe the girl, Batman summarised.


"How long have you known him?" he pressed on.


"Come on, chill on the pressure for a bit." Nightwing threw his predecessor a disapproving look. He would have said more had Raven not easily given them another answer.


"A few weeks ago. He killed some demons who were trying to abduct me."


".... Oh. Wasn't expecting that." Nightwing looked at Batman. "Guess that answers one of our questions."


"Let's leave. We'll ask more questions on the way."


Throwing a last look at where Lady Shiva and her cohort left in, Batman guided Raven and Nightwing to the Batwing and locked on the coordinates of the Hall of Justice. He wasn't foolish to bring someone not personally vetted to the Batcave.


Their destination turned out to be accurate when Raven spontaneously dropped a bombshell enroute.


"I need your help." She had started.


Nightwing eyed her carefully. "Our help as in, personal favour or..."


"The heroes." Raven corrected unperturbed. "Something is coming, and if we... I fail to stop it, the whole mortal plane as we know it will be gone."


".... Huh. Impending apocalypse was not what I was expecting. What year is it again?"


"What does this have to do with the dark sorcerers that have been running around Gotham?" Batman asked. The tone of his voice stating that he was almost certain Raven knew what he was talking about, and she did, so she did not bother denying it. There was no point.


"They are the deranged worshippers of the demon they are trying to summon into his dimension." She replied.


"And how do you factor into all this?"


She did not flinch even when faced with the suspicious stare of the Batman. She had stared down far worse than the hard look of a masked man.


She replied evenly in that bland tone of hers. "Because that demon is my father. And I'm the key to his descent."


The two heroes traded looks with hers, one completely neutral but laced with suspicion while the other contemplative but slightly fed up.


Batman said nothing and simply sent a silent hail to the Hall of Justice to prepare for a meeting. He'll have to send a call to the magic contacts he had, just in case. One could never be too careful when dealing with mystical problems, he'd learned that the stubborn way.


.


.......


.


The five of them, Talia, Lady Shiva, Deathstroke, David Cain and Taro, were on a plane, having left the island a few minutes after Batman did. A few tense minutes where the four assassins watched him with intense focus in case he reneged on the agreement and fought them to escape.


Well, three of them were watching him intently while Lady Shiva procured a steaming teapot from somewhere and poured him a cup.


He ignored the caution the rest threw at him, specifically in Deathstroke and Cain's case, and simply took the cup with a nod of thanks and drank its content.


"I don't know if it's guts or foolishness, but I sure as hell won't drink her tea immediately after fighting her." Deathstroke said as he watched Taro drink the tea without even caring if it was poisoned.


"If it was up to me, I'd have put a bullet in your head." The grey haired older man, David Cain said from the side where he kept a thin eye of Taro.


"You couldn't. Not even if I let you." Taro said after finishing his tea and giving Lady Shiva another nod of thanks.


"You want to stake your life on it?" The cold hitman dared.


Taro finally turned to look at him, cold apathetic eyes dim behind his glasses. "I do. Do you?"


The plane suddenly felt too tight as the two men stared at each other, while Deathstroke and Talia slowly reached for their weapons. Their memories of fighting Taro were still fresh in their minds, the latter more so than the former.


Taro sighed. It was easy to see that he was feeling less than hospitable at this moment and it was what was putting everyone on edge, except for Lady Shiva it seems.


'Well she's too abnormal.' Taro thought. He might not look it to the others but he was on edge. Not from them though, but from what would happen when they landed.


And not once, his mind went to Raven who he had sent on the way with the heroes. While he was still concerned about her wellbeing, or just concerned in general, she was in a better situation than following him to the heart of the League of Assassins.


"We should have taken the girl with us. Along with the Bat. I doubt you'd have this kind of chance again."


Off to the side, Deathstroke remarked. "I wasn't paid to get rid of the Bat. And like it or not, our chances of taking both the girl and getting rid of dear ol' bats were even at most."


His eyes trailed to Taro as he said so. Talia who had been silent from the beginning finally decided to speak.


"Why did you let her go with them?"


Taro gave a deadpan raised brow at her question but she kept staring at him, clearly expecting an answer but unfortunately wasn't going to get one.


It had nothing to do with the fact that Taro still felt awkward around her and didn't know how to act around her.


"Your efforts are in vain. My father wants her, that means he's going to get her. She's no doubt important enough for you to trade your surrender for her freedom."


What she said was indeed true. But still it is better this way. He wouldn't bring her anywhere close to Ra's and he intends to make it remain that way.


"How did you find us so fast?" He asked instead, more interested in this little tidbit than anything else.


"You mean after the whole fake scenario thing?" Deathstroke said with a laugh. "That's a new one, I'll admit. I have never seen such a genuine fake scene and it had thrown us off for a good thirteen hours, but then we got some nice help before we lost you forever."


Talia interjected. "You are asking about how we found the building so quickly in the first place, are you not?"


Taro nodded.


Talia crossed her arms and wore a frosty look on her face. "It would have indeed been troublesome had we been looking for you in your former form. Your current state made it easier. A few eyes saw you leaving Gotham."


"Ah..." Well, it couldn't be helped if that was the case. And she could have said it all without letting that disgust roll off her tongue.


"You have been awfully silent, Wu-San."


Lady Shiva raised her eyes from behind her cup and carefully studied Taro. It was more as if she was surgically dissecting his words.


"I have nothing of importance to speak of. We'll talk after you meet Ra's." Her curt words were delivered loud and clear as she went back to her tea.


With nothing else to do, Taro relaxed into the chair with his eyes closed, ignoring the soft unsheathing of blades around him as he prodded himself to a short sleep.


.


.......


.


The air on the island felt the same as it did when he left.


Stepping back on the island, whatever feeling Taro suspected it would evoke were not to be found. Clearly he had grown over it.


A few guards led them into the ancient palace where Ra's resided. Even the air here felt no different than what he remembered.


Somewhere along the way, Deathstroke and David Cain had left the group and just before they got to Ra's, Lady Shiva and Talia pulled away from the guards leading Taro, and led him to the point where he alone was standing before a slightly ajar door.


"Do not stand on ceremony. I have been kept waiting for quite some time." A voice came from behind the door.


Walking into the dim lit room, Taro's eyes immediately locked into the figure of the Demon Head who stood leaning against a balcony.


He looked slightly older than Taro but younger than David with small tufts of grey staining his stark black hair. The overall stature looked unassuming but that notion was immediately thrown away when you looked at his eyes.


They were almost like an eagle's. Cold. Assessing. Striking. It was the eyes of a seasoned killer.


Having lived more than most men could dream, Ra's al Ghul was a figure clad in both history, experience and death.


In front of this stout figure, Taro looked unimpressed with his head tilted to the side in a lazy rest.


"Ra's." Very few could speak his name as casually as Taro did and the man himself took it in stride.


Taro had more than earned the right to call him that casually.


"Taro. Sakamoto." Ra's moved away from the balcony and stepped into the room. "How long has it been?"


"Thirteen years. Give or take."


Ra's smiled. A genial thing that no doubt would have unsettled all who saw it.


"Right." He nodded as if counting the time. "Over a decade since you spat on my grace and walked away without speaking a word to me."


Taro remained silent, watching Ra's every move as the way older man walked around the room with the measured pace of someone who owned it.


"Tell me, Taro. What is it that we do to deserters? You were once an enforcer, so surely you remember?"


"Death by a hundred cuts. To be carried over and over for however long they live. However, they'll be pardoned if they survive a thousand cuts." Taro replied. He removed his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt before propping them back on.


Ra's tapped the arch of a fireplace. "Death of a hundred cuts. Redemption of a thousand cuts. You remember well."


Taro shrugged. "You can't forget something that descriptive."


There was no humour in Ra's gaze as he looked upon Taro, tentatively tapping on the arch. "And tell me, why are you not under execution?"


"You tell me. Why am I not under execution?" Taro asked in turn.


Ra's hummed to himself and turned around to pick up one of the pokers that was burning red at its tip.


He brought it to his face, turning it to get a good look at all its side, and hummed in approval.


"You broke my trust, Taro." He stated. "I found you, brought you to my home, taught you until I could no longer, honed your talents and directed your purpose. All for what? For you to throw away and abandon everything I gave you."


Taro remained silent.


"I brought you up and wrapped my cloak on your shoulders, the same way I would a son." Ra's spoke calmly, staring deep into searing red poker. "I treated you like a father would a son. I provided all you could have asked for, even before you did. And you left....without even speaking to me. You disappoint me."


Taro breathed out. It wasn't that simple. "It wasn't that simple."


"Then you come to me, and I would have made it very simple for you." Ra's cut in sharply. The barest hint of anger could be heard in his voice.


"I raised you to one day be my heir. To be truly known as my son, and what did you do? You walked away from everything I taught you. I will ask you this one question: Was it worth it?"


"Yes." Taro said without hesitation. "Everything was worth it." He repeated again for good measure.


"What do you want from me, Ra's?" Taro asked without any trace of his previous frivolity.


"Everything has a price, Taro, I taught you that." Ra's answered slowly. He returned the dimming glow of the poker to the fire and held it there. "I called you back here to ask for my recompense."


"And what would that be?"


"Something of equal measure." Ra's replied evenly as he slowly turned the poker in his hand. "I once looked upon you as my child, Taro, and since you betrayed that, I'll take that which you look upon as a child."


Ra's turned to look at him with his eyes thinned into dots, like a predator stalking around a daring prey.


"I heard you were with a girl. I'll take her as mine and then you'll be free to leave. I can only see it as fair compensation."


Ra's eyes widened for an instant as the poker in his hands was suddenly grabbed by Taro with such strength that he couldn't move it.


"I'll warn you only once, Ra's. Go near her and I'll kill you." Instead of buckling under the pressure Taro was currently exerting, Ra's smiled.


"Good. Do that and be the next Demon Head. If that girl is what it'll take then so be it." He was totally unfazed as he stared Taro straight in the eye.


The two of them continued staring at each other, Ra's with a wicked smile on his face while Taro had on a frowning visage.


Briefly, Taro considered just killing Ra's al Ghul and getting done with it but couldn't put out the intention. It wasn't about his past as a favoured assassin under Ra's grace. Those sentiments were long gone.


The two of them separated at the same time, Ra's rubbing his wrists while Taro folded his hands.


"If you have nothing else to say then I'll be leaving." Taro turned around to leave but Ra's voice filtered into his ears.


"I'll be seeing you soon, Assassin." The door closed behind him. Just a few minutes and he was already fed up with this place. He saw no guards by the door and couldn't help but shake his head. A subtle play. One that was designed to not make him feel like a guest in a place he was once familiar with.


"I'll be leaving soon." He said to himself. Thoughts of Raven kept flashing into his head and despite what his calm exterior might profess, he was a bit worried about her. It was a feeling he was getting slowly used to after a few weeks, and he couldn't say he hated it.


The few assassins he saw on his way dutifully ignored his presence and he in turn let them be. He wandered aimlessly, well not exactly, until he came to a very familiar door.


"Your projectiles are too stiff in their flight path. Predictable. Make it less so."


"Yes sir."


The thought came to him as he reached for the door, and behind those thoughts were the whispers of certainty.


She'll be there.


The doors slightly creaked open and he could already hear the sharp swishes of a blade cutting through the air, but for some reason it sounded, not amateurish, but slightly unrefined.


He pushed the doors open and he heard the swishes again, but this time the sound was stretching towards him.


He tilted his head and the thrown blade embedded itself into the door.


"Speak. Who are you and what are you doing in my private halls? Speak no lies or I'll have your tongue."


It was a kid. A young boy that was probably below ten years old. Well, the eyes and the sharp words definitely didn't belong to that body.


A few things the child said stood out to Taro but he didn't dwell on them and instead noted the changes that now filled the hall. It wasn't as bare as it had once been.


Swish.


He absentmindedly moved his head and dodged another rude knife from the irate child.


"This will be the last time you ignore my words. Answer me; who are you, and what are you doing in my private halls?"


The sharp teetering voice of the child brought him out of his reminiscing and when his eyes fell back on the child, he couldn't help but think inwardly.


"Who are you, kid?"


.


.


.


.


––––––


.


Patreøn*com/1stDepth


.


––––––

 

[Depth_]

The ride to the Hall of Justice was a cold interrogative one where Raven gave clear and concise answers to whatever Batman and Nightwing asked.


She could tell that neither of them fully trusted her, more so Batman than Nightwing. While the younger crusader appeared more understanding and sympathetic, Raven could tell that other than the smidgen of benefits of doubt, he was secretly keeping an analyzing eye on her behind his soft smile and softer words.


She really didn't care. They were willing to listen to her and verify her words and would be inclined to help her if her words were true, that much she could tell and that was all that she needed. They were already doing far more than anyone else.


It would have been even better if he had been here.


The thought came in through the slips and she was forced to strangle it out when she realized what it was. She cursed herself once more as she did.


She tried not to think about it, even going as far as to regulate her mind with some breathing exercises – something that instantly put her under intense focus from the two heroes, not that she cared – but those particular thoughts still found ways of slipping through her defences.


She knew she absolutely couldn't entertain them at any cost. They weren't just thoughts slipping through. They were waves from certain emotional aspects that Raven kept under locks in the depths of her mind. And the last thing she wanted to deal with at the moment was her own emotional masks.


In the end, he left just like the others. Just like everyone.


She clamped down on that traitorous thought with her full focus that the air around thrummed, further alerting the heroes.


"I'm sorry about that." She apologized.


"Um, don't worry about it. But, uh, mind telling us what just happened?" Nightwing walked closer with concern on his face.


So he said but caution and distrust towards her increased. Well he did feel a bit concerned about her so maybe that was a plus.


"Bad thoughts." It was such a simple reply and she saw how it left him stumped for a brief second before he recovered himself. He was a great actor, she thought, better than his teacher who sat in the pilot seat.


That was a bit wrong. She looked at Batman and concluded that yes, Nightwing was the better actor, but also because Batman didn't bother to act. He just kept everything under a deathly neutral expression.


"Were you thinking about him?" She looked at Nightwing who sat on the seat in front of her and turned it around so that they were facing each other. "Taro, I mean."


She let the returning silence stretch for more than a few seconds before she opened her mouth to speak.


"Not necessarily. It was a more unpleasant thought."


Nightwing really had no idea on how to carry on the conversation with their pale-skinned temporary ward. It was like he was speaking to a pale-white blackboard.


'That's a little too harsh.' He thought to himself while outwardly chuckling. She was emotionally stunted, too much so that it was jarring. He was sure Bruce had instantly noticed. He had some...experience on that angle.


He caught Bruce's signal and calmly extracted himself from her and went over to Bruce's side where said man discreetly pointed at a screen where the public profile of one 'Taro Sakamoto' had been pulled up.


Along with the information was a little note from Barbara.


Are you sure this is your guy?—


He took a few seconds to skim through it and instantly understood why Barbara had attached that note even as a joke.


The public information screamed normal citizen. It wasn't overly perfect like some model citizen's, but there was also no highlight of note. He wasn't some secretive person as a few retailers from Central Gotham knew him very well.


In fact, the information was too mundane for someone of importance. There was no angle they could dig through.


"At least we got his house address." He whispered.


"Hrn." Batman replied. He almost rolled his eyes. Batman couldn't be more dramatic even if he tried to, Nightwing thought.


On Raven's end, she was still having an intense internal battle with her thoughts and trying to force them out when she abruptly stopped and looked at the bundle of thoughts wrapped down by her.


"You." She said dispassionately.


Oh, foolish daughter. You can't keep me away forever. I am the only one who will remain by your side.


The thought in her hands and in her head disgusted her that she hurled it down.


Oh? Was that in anger or in fear, daughter?


The fact that Trigon had found a way to hide his voice behind her thoughts was concerning. Bare thoughts could sway people and a demonic being like Trigon, hiding his voice behind her thoughts, could slowly influence her mind without her knowing.


He left you in the end, just like I said he would. What? You thought he was what? A friend? A guardian? That you were some defunct family, and he was what? Your father? Hahahahahaha!


"Shut up." She said calmly but the thought laughed louder in her head. It was trying to get inside her head, she knew, but she wouldn't give it that pleasure.


You thought he wanted a daughter in you? How delusional. Have you ever asked yourself if you deserved a father other than me?


She had. A million times and a million times over. It was a question she kept asking herself at least a dozen times every day ever since that day.


As you saw, he already has someone he sees as a daughter. Why would he want something as dysfunctional as you?


"Are you done?" She asked nonchalantly. "You are crowding my head with your incessant wailing."


Chains sprang up from the dark below and wrapped around every thought around her and started pulling them down to the pits of her mind.


Her mind finally regained a bit of comforting silence as all her thoughts drowned in a murky black sea. And yet, echoes of words kept ringing in her ears...and subconsciously she clenched her fist.


.


.........


.


On the other side of the globe, Taro was currently faced with the cold stare of an irate child that was garbed in assassins' getup.


The child must've apparently gotten fed up since he rushed at Taro with a short sword in his hand, murder clear in his eyes, and a defiant shout.


Taro wasn't exactly in the mood for whatever the child was up to as he took a step back from the first swing and then simply caught the kid out of the air the moment he jumped for his follow-up swing.


The kid tried disarming himself from Taro's hands by swinging his blade at it only to find out that his hand was empty and before he could go for another maneuver, his sleeves were drawn and found themselves tied to a knot behind his back. The same had been done to his pants.


"Untie me right this instant or I'll have your head." The kid's mouth was clamped with a cloth but all that did was increase the intense murder in his eyes.


He ignored the warning in those childish eyes and picked up a rope, tied both the kid's hands and legs on one end and tied the other end to a bar and watched as the kid dangled with great mortification in his eyes.


Having finally gotten rid of the kid, he took a walk around the hall, noting the changes and new position of everything in the hall. He could remember some of the weapons and training dummies but they were few in numbers compared to what was now in the hall.


A slight air draft in the room notified him that someone had silently entered the room and even without turning he could already guess who it was.


"Your talk with father has ended, it seems." He heard her say as she walked towards where he strung up the boy. Ah, he realized.


"And I see you've met my son."


That got him to turn around and take a closer look at the both of them as Talia cut off the rope and then left him the knife to untie himself.


"I can see the faint resemblance." He found himself saying. The eyes were there, he admitted to himself.


He wanted to ask who the father was as a reflex of his gentle older man persona but stopped himself when he remembered where he was. He definitely had no right to ask if Talia's cold eyes were anything to go by.


"Who is this, mother? I want to kill him." The child spat out bubbling venom rolling off his tongue.


"Meet my son, Damian al Ghul." She pushed the boy a few steps forward. "Damian, meet my old teacher, Taro Sakamoto. He taught me all I knew in my youth."


Instead of being pacified, or at least ceasing direct hostilities, the boy's glare increased.


"So you are the traitor grandfather told me about. Why do you still have your head?"


"Because Ra's would lose his trying to take mine." Taro replied candidly, and yup, the glare was kicked up a notch.


"Mother..."


"Be quiet, my dear." Talia however chided him, albeit softly. Her cold eyes stared dead at Taro. "What are you doing here?"


Taro scratched his head awkwardly. "It's the only place I could go other than outside, and I doubt I still have my old room back."


"You don't."


"Figured."


The two of them stood in awkward silence, one where Taro could almost swear that he heard something growling, but then Talia turned to Damian.


"You will continue your training later. Would you excuse us, dear?"


With eyes full of reluctance and natural hate, he slowly carried himself out of the hall and left the both of them to their standoff-stare off.


There were no chairs in the hall, something that still remained so from Taro's memories, so Taro sat on the ground and gestured for Talia to do the same.


"... I–"


"I don't need your apologies." Talia cut him off before he could get his first word out. "I was a young girl with flighty thoughts. There were no mistakes made so there's nothing to apologize for."


Taro sighed. He ran his hand through his hair as he suddenly became lost for words. What was he apologising for? What was he hoping his apology would fix?


He looked at Talia in front of him. The woman sitting across him did not look like one that needed a father figure, unlike what her past self must've wanted.


What did he even want from her at this point? These were all questions that ate away at any words that came to his tongue.


"How have you been all these years, Talia?" He asked.


She looked at him with one brow raised inquisitively. "By that you must mean these past thirteen years."


He nodded, prompting her to continue.


"I cried. Every night. For months after you left." He winced at her brutal words. "'Master a killing aspect'. That was your last assignment for me, but it was one I couldn't complete, or even start, in the first five years of your departure. My father's words forced me to bury any foolish attachments I might have had, and I did."


The more she spoke the more uncomfortable Taro became. It was like opening a wound he never knew he had. It was both strange and jarring while being hurtful at the same time.


"I focused on my missions and then somewhere along the way I had Damian. I had to divide my time between being his mother and teacher and also advancing on the path I had started walking."


She sighed. It wasn't a tired one. It was more like a wistful expression.


"The first few years following Damian's birth was a hard one for me. Being a mother and an active assassin at the same time was something I had no idea how to juggle but I managed. It was all worth it, and for him I'll do it all again."


She looked at him, those cold green eyes staring at him like frozen venom.


"He is my heart and blood. All I am is to become all I can for him."


They both shared a brief look that Taro ended with an understanding nod. Her saying those words meant a lot and it could be because of Taro's newfound guilt, his past memories, or the look in her eyes, a few words left Taro's mouth before his brain could process them.


"If you ever want me to teach him, tell me. It is the least I can do."


They had once been an intertwined pair – teacher and student – but now they were both strangers to the other with how much they've grown, despite having grown in the same direction.


They could no longer have what might have been – it was wishes on the sand at this point – but that did not mean that the bond they once had had to end.


Talia spoke softly, calmly and slowly summarizing her experiences in the last decade to Taro who patiently listened.


"I am glad you never told me back then." He suddenly said words that surprised Talia, and continued before she could react. "I wouldn't have understood what you meant and would have forced you to dismiss it."


He looked at her and smiled. It was such a soft and harmless thing – especially with his features – that it left Talia stunned, who was only seeing such a smile on his face for the first time in her life.


'It looks familiar.' She thought to herself. It almost looked like the smile she'd have on some occasions a few years ago when listening to every childish thing Damian had to say. 'It looks familiar.' She said to herself.


"I'm more proud of the woman you are right now, than the woman you would have been had I stayed."


He took off his glasses and looked at her with his grey eyes.


"I make no excuses for my departure, but I'm glad I left when I did. If I hadn't, I would have become someone I could not be proud of. On your own you trained yourself to stand firm, that is something I would have not been able to teach you. Not to this level at least."


The embers of his smile still remained as he wore his glasses while looking at Talia whose lips were currently pursed.


She closed her eyes to hide the emotions that were dancing in them and took in a deep breath to calm herself.


"....Thank you." She muttered with her eyes closed. Her words were so faint that she hardly heard it, but that was no problem for Taro as he had read her lips.


He received her thanks with gratitude and silence.


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........


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[Hall of Justice]


A few figures were sat around a large round table and above the table were holographic projections of documents, pictures and reports, all centred around one figure – Raven.


"So you're telling me, according to her words, that a demonic apocalypse is coming? Does it get more outlandish than this?" The Green Lantern, Hal Jordan's rhetoric, was met with a serious deliberation.


"So a possible demonic invasion before New Year, that's a new one." The Flash remarked drily. He looked utterly drained out and it remained uncertain if it was because of the current deliberation or something else. Nevertheless, it was a rare look for the Flash.


"What do we know about this being called Trigon? Has there been any past contact with it?" Martian Manhunter asked Batman who had brought up the meeting.


Batman shook his head. "Inconclusive as of yet. I've sent a message to our magic contacts. I couldn't reach Zatanna, but I got hold of Constantine and Dr. Fate. They'll be here soon."


He waved his hand and the projections flew to the side. "From her own words, apart from her being his daughter, he has conquered millions of worlds and dimensions, including her last one. He now aims for earth and she is the key to doing that."


"Key? Nah, not key mate. She's the bloody bridge that'll open up an express to hell." Constantine walked in with a swaying swagger to his steps and a half smoked cigarette in his lips.


"You look like you've been through hell yourself." Hal quipped.


Constantine flipped him off. "Piss off, will ya? Hangovers are demonic bloody nuisances, and I'm on a first-name basis with every last one."


He looked at the projections and cursed under his breath. "Yeah, that's the apocalypse for ya. Knew something was off—sun was out, birds were singin'. Bloody ominous, if you ask me."


Flash snorted.


"What can you tell us about this particular threat, John? You seem to be certain about the impending apocalypse." Wonder Woman spoke up and drew Constantine's gaze to her while the Englishman scratched his head in frustration.


"Blind as you are, sweetheart. Only thing I know? His name's one letter shy of the Devil's—small 'd,' mind you. Even the demons won't whisper about him, and that? That's a proper bad sign."


He read over Batman's report on Raven's words and nodded to himself. "Spot on, mate. Death, destruction, subjugation—million bloody worlds burnin', apocalypse bingo, Armageddon with a side of chips. You've got the whole doomsday catalog down pat. But if you're askin' for my 'professional' opinion? Wrap the bitch in a bow, chuck her into the next dimension over, and pray whatever's there has a really strong stomach." He discarded the half cigarette and lit up a new one.


"John!"


"Dude!"


"The hell man?"


The man in question just shrugged and took in a deep drag and blew out the smoke. The smoke formed a globe with cracks on it that soon started spreading until it covered the globe and the globe exploded.


He looked over at Batman who had kept his eyes on him since his arrival.


"Listen up, Batsy—no sugarcoatin' this. Some things you don't fight, and he's top of that list. If the bastard's set his sights on our mudball, the best we can do is play shell games with the apocalypse. Buy time, redirect attention, maybe trick him into blinkin'—but stop him? Nah. Not a chance in hell. And as long as she's here? We're just windin' the clock. Might stall the hour, but midnight's comin'. Only question is whether we're still standin' when it hits."


The room fell silent as whatever remains of humour was drained away by Constantine's words. Just like he said, he gave them his hard truth and they knew him well enough to know that he wasn't joking, not about this.


"We don't trade lives, John." Superman finally spoke up. "There's still a lot of things we still don't know and we're only looking at the worst case scenario. We'll speak with her again after we've heard from Dr. Fate."


"Gotta hand it to you, Big Blue—that optimism of yours? Bloody legendary. Shame it burns faster than a sinner in a holy water bath once you're down in the pit. Hell doesn't just kill hope, mate—it feasts on it. And you? You're a walking, talking all-you-can-eat buffet."


He turned around and walked out of the room with his swaying swagger while his last words drifted back to the meeting room.


"If there's a bottle of whiskey within a ten-mile radius, now's the time to speak up. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to exorcise this memory the old-fashioned way—with enough cheap scotch to drown a hellhound."


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