VECTOR IN DC

 

The dead assassin seemed to be holding on to something, I opened up his hand and saw a piece of paper with random numbers written on it. 

 

I for one knew that with the League of Assassins, nothing was done at random. I observed the numbers and they didn’t fit into any clues, I started to think maybe it was just some code, but that was when it hit me. 

 

 

“Gwen, run these numbers up across longitude and latitude, I think it might be coordinates.” I ordered, suspecting it might be some kind of coordinates and probably my invitation from Ra’s. I do not know what he wanted from me this time around but Talia did mention he could be one stubborn geezer, and would try other methods to get me to come to him. 

 

Since the direction was never specified, Gwen produced four different coordinates and displayed them upon the screen of my visor. “The third one, there seem to be nothing in that area.” I pointed out. 

 

 

“Yes sir, it’s a desert with nothing significant in the area, no sign of human residence.” She replied. 

 

“Good, put a pin on that location. That’s where they are most likely to use as their hideout.” I didn’t bother going back home to get anything or informing anyone as to what had transpired that night but just headed straight towards a possible base for the League of Assassins. 

 

 

… 

 

 

Talia al Ghul, daughter of the infamous Ra’s al Ghul and a formidable leader of the League of Assassins, found herself in a dimly lit room where the League had imprisoned Raven. The air was thick with anticipation as Talia meticulously arranged candles around the room, creating an atmosphere that was both eerie and mysterious.

 

As the candles flickered to life, Raven slowly regained consciousness. Her violet eyes fluttered open, revealing the confusion and disorientation that lingered from the sedation. Talia observed her with a casual demeanor, fully aware of the powerful being lying on the bed before her. 

 

 

“Oh, you’re up. It would be better if you kindly go back to being asleep; Father will be right with you in due time,” Talia remarked, her voice carrying an air of authority. The message was clear – Raven’s presence was not a matter of Talia’s choice but a requirement set by Ra’s al Ghul himself.

 

 

Raven, still groggy from the sedation, attempted to use her magic to confront Talia. “Azrath Metrion Sintos,” she uttered, directing her hand at Talia, but the attempt proved futile.

 

“Azrath Metrion Sintos,” she tried again, frustration evident in her voice as her magic continued to be suppressed.

 

“What did you do to me? Why… Why won’t my magic work?” Raven questioned, struggling to make sense of the situation.

 

 

Talia extinguished a match with a nonchalant blow, her gaze unwavering. “That’s because the herb pressed against your nose before you were put to sleep serves a dual purpose. It knocks people unconscious and, conveniently for us, temporarily blocks the use of magic if the victim is a magic user.”

 

Raven’s confusion deepened, realizing the extent of the circumstances that had led to her captivity. “What does Ra’s al Ghul want with me?” she inquired, her curiosity overcoming the haze of sedation.

 

A subtle smile played on Talia’s lips as she savored the realization that Raven had yet to comprehend the true nature of her predicament. “Don’t worry; you’ll find out soon enough.”

 

 

A knock echoed through the room, and an ally in a mask entered, bearing a tray with a steaming cup of tea. Talia, maintaining her composed demeanor, acknowledged the timely arrival.

 

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, taking the tray from the masked ally. “Drink this tea; it will help you relax a bit,” Talia suggested, placing the tray on a stool near Raven’s bed.

 

 

Raven, distrustful of her captor, resisted the offer. “You can have it because I won’t be drinking that,” she asserted, attempting to rise from the bed but discovering a disconcerting numbness in her legs.

 

“Why can’t I feel my legs?” she questioned, her confusion growing as the reality of her situation became more apparent.

 

“Guards!” Talia called out, summoning two masked assassins who promptly placed Raven back in bed.

“I thought it might be rude not to offer our guest anything. That’s why I asked them to bring you this tea. It might help with whatever is going on with your legs, who knows,” Talia taunted, her tone dripping with subtle amusement as she prepared to leave the room.

 

 

“Be a darling and stay put,” she said to Raven, the door closing behind her as she left the captive hero to grapple with the mysteries and threats that surrounded her.

 

… 

 

The chamber was dimly lit by flickering candles and lanterns, casting dancing shadows across the ornate walls. Talia entered with a silent grace, bowing respectfully to her father, Ra’s al Ghul, seated regally on a throne-like chair.

 

 

“You know the boy will come for her, don’t you?” she remarked, her gaze meeting her father’s.

 

 

“Indeed, my daughter. I’ve taken precautions based on the information gathered from encounters with the exceptional young man,” Ra’s replied with an air of unwavering confidence.

 

Talia, concerned for the potential consequences, warned, “We must not underestimate him. Your plans for the girl could lead to another massacre of our men if mishandled.”

 

 

Ra’s, seemingly unperturbed, assured, “Fear not. I have countermeasures that will subdue even the most formidable opponent. His prowess will be no match for my preparations.”

 

 

Talia, aware of Tom’s capabilities, pressed, “He’s unpredictable. We need to be prepared and vigilant or else things might not go as planned.”

 

Ra’s, with a calm resolve, declared, “I will bring him to submission. My measures are designed to disorient even the most untamed. Even a Kryptonian mind can’t withstand what awaits him.”

 

Talia, acknowledging her father’s confidence, conceded, “If you say so, Father. But we must stay vigilant. He will arrive soon.”

 

 

With a slight bow, Talia turned to leave the chamber, leaving Ra’s al Ghul immersed in the shadows of his calculated schemes.

 

… 

 

In the heart of the League of Assassins’ fortress, a training room echoed with the clash of weaponry. Damian Wayne, the young prodigy, found himself surrounded by a quintet of highly skilled assassins.

 

The dojo setting was dimly lit, emphasizing the seriousness of the training. Shadows danced on the walls as the combatants engaged in a disciplined dance of combat.

 

Damian wielded a sword with precision and grace that befitted his lineage, while his opponents, each armed with different weapons – arrows, swords, a bow staff, a Sai, and kunai – circled him. The air crackled with anticipation as the training session reached a crescendo.

 

The training session unfolded with precision and intensity. The assassins attacked Damian with a strategic blend of coordination and individual skill. Shurikens whizzed through the air, swords clashed in a symphony of steel, and the dojo became a battleground of strategy and technique.

 

 

 

Damien, a formidable combatant, parried, dodged, and countered with the finesse of a true descendant of Ra’s al Ghul. Each opponent tested a different aspect of his abilities, making the training not just a physical exercise but a mental challenge.

 

As the session neared its end, the masked assassins acknowledged Damian’s prowess with silent bows before standing down. 

 

 

 

Talia al Ghul, clad in the League’s traditional attire, had observed the intense training session from the shadows. As Damien concluded the skirmish, sweat glistened on his brow. Talia approached, acknowledging his skill.

 

 

 

“Excellently done, as always,” she complimented, her voice carrying a blend of approval and maternal concern. Damian, catching his breath, wiped his face with a towel offered to him.

 

 

 

“Mother, what are you doing here? I thought you were occupied with Grandfather’s agenda for the next couple of days,” Damian inquired, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

 

 

 

“I am indeed occupied, but I wanted to assess your progress. Your skills are crucial, especially considering the challenges that lie ahead,” Talia explained, her eyes scanning the masked assassins who, at her subtle nod, respectfully withdrew, leaving the training ground to the mother and son.

 

 

 

As the training room cleared, Talia, her demeanor a mix of authority and care, issued a warning to Damian. “The one your grandfather has chosen to invite tonight is not to be taken lightly. I advise you to stay in your room until I say otherwise”

 

Damian’s arrogance surfaced. “Why should I? I heard he’s just a boy.”

 

“Not just any boy,” Talia emphasized. “He is a force to be reckoned with, a merciless one. The Demon Head has provoked him, and engaging him might lead to consequences beyond your reckoning.”

 

“He sounds like a handful,” Damian retorted, the confidence in his abilities undeterred.

 

“More than you think. So, for your own good, stay put,” Talia insisted, her tone leaving little room for argument.

 

“I’ll try, but no promises,” Damian replied, a subtle defiance lingering as he left the dojo.

 

 

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