peektuttut | [RL, Ra's & Tim] Staring at the Sun

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[RL, Ra's & Tim] Staring at the Sun

He should be home, enjoying the fact that he was a boy again, or at least yelling at Dick about it. Instead, he was on Bruce's world again, dressed down and following Nygma. Tim kept to the sides of buildings, keeping a good deal of distance between them: he didn't want to deal with Eddie on a face to face basis. At all. He liked this form of trailing so much less; it was easier, more exhilarating from the rooftops. Tim glanced up at the tall building he stood next to, frowning lightly at the moon peeking over its edge. He should be getting home soon, but if Crane was still staying with Eddie - in Bruce's penthouse - Tim wanted to know more. Had he misplaced whatever trust he'd handed over? God, he hoped not. He'd never hear the end of it,b ut more than that, he'd never really forgive himself.

Watching Nygma turn a corner, Tim shifted to head down an alley, cutting across the block ahead of the older man. Or at least, that was the intention; he had to pause halfway down as a noise caught his ears. Turning slightly, the unmasked Boy Wonder lifted his head to scan the fire escapes on either sides of the alley, frowning where light bulbs were busted, casting swaths of inky dark. Withdrawing his hands from his pockets, Tim continued on, slowly.

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So there's more to you than meets the eye Drake. Just as I thought.

Ra's watched his movements, the clever way he assessed the situation. What a promising young man, so much like Bruce only sharper, better trained than the raw potential Ra's had found so long ago. Someone had found this boy first.

His movements were only slightly altered from the new scarring of his 'death' over a year before. He weighed the change carefully as he threw another blade, this time moving out of the shadows with the sharp action and throwing a kick at the young man's abdomen.

He leaned to the side to avoid the second knife, cutting it closer. That one was closer; Tim had time enough to acknowledge that before the kick came at him. Blocking with a forearm brought down across his torso, Tim let the pressure of the attack push him back a few light steps. He kept to the crouch, fists raised this time. Now he had a target; a masked one.

A fucking ninja? Seriously?

Tim wanted to laugh, somewhere deep down. A ninja. "League of Assassins?" He half hoped not; the last time he'd come across them had been the thousand al Ghul sent for him at the Manor. The Boy Wonder's eyes jumped, scouring the alley before he darted forward, one fist aimed at jaw, the other following fast for the solar plexus.

Assassins? Ra's deflected the first hit, leaving himself open for the next attack though shifting so the leather plating would take the brunt of the force - for nothing more than to calculate the boy's strength. Apparently this other Gotham had something similar, though the name was enough to make Ra's sneer. It wasn't about assassination, it was about the control of corruption plaguing the globe. It was about holding that wavering balance that so often tipped in the favor of filth.

The hit gave him a chance to move back, not quite hard but controlled in a way that told Ra's the boy had indeed been trained, and well. Bruce? He wondered vaguely as ducked to try and sweep the young man's feet from under him in a well placed kick. Let's test those reflexes, shall we?

The knowledge of some form of the league, the training- knowing both Henri Ducard and Ra's al Ghul - Tim Drake was indeed more than he let on.

Tim Drake was a good actor: but not in a fight. He leaped over the sweep, twisting his body to aim a kick at the other man's shoulder. No answer. Great. Was this just a grunt? No, that didn't make sense; they'd be swarming by now. These guys never moved alone.

When Tim landed lightly on the balls of his feet, he aimed a roundhouse at the side of his opponent's leg, foot heading for the back of his knee. "Who are you?" Now was the time to ask questions, before things got too ugly. His staff would make this a hell of a lot faster.

Ra's dodged the first kick fluidly, trying to use the position to twist and aim an elbow at the boy's abdomen. His moves were sharp and calculated, oddly considerate as if each blow were a test rather than an overtly violent act.

He was doing well, better than Ra's had considered. It was nearly like sparring with Bruce in those late months, before he had lost his great pupil to the young man's foolish self righteousness.

"The question is-" his voice came out, muffled from the mask as he used his arm to block the kick, the force against he recently healed scars making him blink but nothing more. "-who you are Tim Drake." He finished as he held the block, his eyes, the only visible part of his face, piercing the young man.

Blue eyes widened a bare fraction, and Tim jerked backwards, putting a few feet between them. He watched the older man carefully, frowning. What was this? What was his angle? The Boy Wonder stayed on guard, ignoring the heat his jacket pressed on him. He hadn't been expecting a fight, but that didn't mean he couldn't do this. One man - one man who, Tim thought, wasn't really trying to kill him - should not be a problem.

Circling around to the side, Tim rose from his stance, watching. His arms settled at his sides, calm; or at least giving that appearance. "What do you want?" It was one of too many questions in Tim's head, but he settled on this; he'd already lost Nygma, and that was a problem he could address later, but this stranger knew who he was.

For a moment - just a moment - Tim thought it might be Bruce, testing him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd experienced that. But it didn't sound like Bruce and - though that wasn't difficult to synthesize - it wasn't something this Bruce would do. And the build was all wrong; no, this was someone brand new.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ra's watched the boy closely- one more test then. He carefully straightened, stepping slowly to the side as he spoke.

"Perhaps you should ask Bruce Wayne." He said, waiting for that reaction, just that moment to answer all that he needed.

How? This had to be someone from Tim's world. Had to be someone who knew that Bruce had adopted him - or else, why bring it up? It made no sense. Gritting his teeth, the Boy Wonder frowned. He needed answers. Answers were most easily received when the questioner had a knee digging into the questioned's throat.

Jerking to the left in a feint, Tim shot right, leg lifting to shoot a foot at the ninja's head. Had to b e League of Assassins, but who? Talia was too concerned with Damian to send someone after him; Ra's was last seen mourning Bruce. He couldn't possibly have tracked Tim here, even if he wanted to.

And there is was. Ra's lips quirked behind his mask. This boy must have been taught by Bruce - some Bruce, even if it wasn't the one of this world. It was strange, in a distant way, if the Ra's of his world had trained that Wayne, this boy had learned the league's ways, from him even.

How sentimental. He thought as he moved back to dodge the kick though not before his arm shot out to grab something on the ground.

"You should learn-" He started, grabbing the tarp under foot and yanking it to try and make the other lose his footing. In a heart beat he had a knife to the boy's throat. The flat side of the blade.

He pulled off his mask in one fluid movement, pushing aside the leather and cloth as he looked down at the boy. "-to mind your surroundings Drake. Bruce always had the same trouble."

Stupid, sloppy, and slow. Tim landed on one foot, off balanced; having his footing jerked out from under him sent the Boy Wonder sprawling backward. He was fast, but so was his opponent; and it was a good thing both were talented, or else Tim might have jerked up into that knife. His throat wasn't nearly as well protected without the gorget.

His eyes trailed to the side, looking for anything in reach: a trash can lid, a pipe, something that would serve as a decent distraction. But the movement of the mask coming off brought his attention back. Tim's eyes widened again, if only for a second, before falling back to blankness.

"Ra's." He stared hard at the older man. So he knew Bruce - trained him, most likely, if his words were any indication. Strange; Bruce had trained Ra's men at one point, according to Dick. "Or is it still Ducard?" There was a sneer under his words that he probably should have done more to restrict, given their positions.

"I have a feeling you have more than one name as well Tim." Ra's answered, watching the boy's eyes widen then return to neutrality. Very good.

He pulled the knife away, standing up straight as he put the blade in the dark folds of his clothes. "I had assumed there was more to you than meets the eye, to think Bruce too took on a student. I wonder if he will here as well." He stepped away, still speaking as he did so. "You should not meddle in the affairs of worlds you do not belong in Drake. The consequences could be dire."

He almost flipped over backwards to his feet, to put more space between them; Ra's' words had him standing normally. Showing off wouldn't do any good here. "Just a first, middle and last." Like hell Tim was going to tell him about Robin; just because he suspected didn't mean he needed the details.

Watching Ra's move, Tim resisted the urge to check his watch, to find out how long he had before he should be homeward bound. "I'm sure you're in the habit of making threats," he said dismissively, "but I'm not used to taking them."

"Not threats Tim- warnings. I have no interest in harming you for your curiosity." Ra's glanced over, pulling off his gloves as he did. "Time and space does not take kindly to disruption. For your own sake you would do well to concern yourself with your own world's affairs rather than this rotting place."

"Unless of course you do plan on making yourself a nuisance." His brow raised. He had the distinct feeling that would be the case in the weeks to come. "Then perhaps a threat would be more suiting."

Tim couldn't quite stop the laugh that jerked out of his throat; there was nothing mirthful in the sound. Straightening his jacket, brushing grime off the seat of his pants, Tim kept his eyes on the older (he wondered how much older, here) man. "This city isn't rotting."

It was uncomfortably beautiful, when Tim looked at it. Compared to the first and riots at home, this Gotham was like a haven. He didn't like the idea that Ra's was planning to ruin it; more so than usual, perhaps. "You don't know me very well, al Ghul." Life without threats would be pretty boring.

Ra's brow raised at the comment, more the laugh that accompanied it. Now wasn't that interesting.

"Crime, poverty, anguish. Their streets are reigned by a mad man, their great hope crawls about with blood stained hands. The one man who wishes to keep them safe they watch with scorn - the corruption here is too deep. Too pure." He answered, voice driving. Bruce had been wrong, just as Ra's knew.

"Not yet." He answered in turn. "As you do not know me despite your commentary. The League of 'Assassins?'" His tone was derisive.

"Batman doesn't do what he does looking for reward or recognition." Tim's voice was hard, brows furrowed. Ra's wasn't so different here, he thought. Except maybe that this man didn't have enough respect for Bruce. Tim was still glad it had been Dick al Ghul contacted after Bruce left. Even hearing Dick tell the story, thinking of Ra's crying was just too strange. "You don't know this city."

Arching his eyebrows, Tim tilted his head forward. "You're the one who named it, not me."

"And neither do you if you ignore it's suffering. Men were not supposed to live like this." He glanced out to the streets, tone lowering to something much less commanding and much more human, disappointment and perhaps regret. "Bruce will never learn."

Ra's glanced back to Tim, 'named' it? The league had existed for thousands of years, he was merely one more link in the long chain of command it had held over the centuries. "Impossible." he answered. "And that is not it's name. Your 'League' sounds little more than an unfavorable enterprise."

That was curious. Tim frowned lightly, thoughtful. Most of their villains - well, the ones who had some purpose in mind, anyway - they had reasons for their actions, sometimes good reasons; the way they went about those actions were the was where trouble was found. And Ra's purpose?

On his world, Ra's had developed the Ebola Gulf-A virus; the Clench. Tim spent a day bleeding from his eyes and hallucinating, thinking he was going to die. Ra's had offered him his parents, tempted him for his own purposes. Tim had almost bought it.

To see this side of him - even if they were technically different people - was strange. This man was doing what he thought was right. In an absolutely ridiculous way, of course, but...

"Men aren't meant to be victims of mass genocide, either. That's all you've got planned." It's all he ever had planned.

"How is it impossible?" Tim was actually surprised; why was it such an improbability? The Boy Wonder snorted, corner of his mouth curling. "You don't honestly expect me to defend the League, do you?" Let Ra's chat it out with himself.

On second thought...best if that never happened. Ever.

"Sometimes the ends must justify the means." Ra's walked down the alley, hands folding behind him. "Sometimes you must sacrifice a limb to save the body. Become a monster to defeat one." He turned his neutral gaze back. "That is why the 'Batman' will never beat the 'Joker.' He refuses to do what is necessary, and until he does people will suffer, more and more will fall to decay."

Ra's raised his eyebrows again, allowing his curiosity. "The League has existed for thousands of years. How could I have named it?" He let the rest fall - whatever this boy thought made no difference. He knew only his own, apparently warped version of the alliance on another world. Even if it were different he was sure that Bruce's stubborn self righteousness had passed on to his student.

"Batman has beaten Joker." He left it at that, knowing that Ra's wouldn't see the victories Bruce had as anything worthy: but they wouldn't kill, and not even the Joker could be allowed to change that.

Especially not the Joker.

"You've read too much Machiavelli. He was friends with Cesare Borgia, you know; The Prince was based on him. And look how that turned out." Following Ra's carefully down the alley (making sure not to step on anymore tarps), Tim blinked at his answer.

"You are pretty old." It wasn't a joke; there was even a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Perhaps your 'Batman.'" Ra's answered, not a beat missed in his stride. "I gave Bruce his second chance. He came so close, this city-" he glanced the buildings over, the dark night sky, "-perhaps had it's chance. Even with such a manifestation as that mad man, the city regained it's hope. The Batman, Harvey Dent."

He glanced back to Tim, brow raised in something of a pitying look for his subject of discussion. "And look where their hope has led them. "The Batman is an object of loathing and fear, more importantly of distrust. Their 'white knight' has become as low as the monsters he set out to fight, their commissioner holds the city in a lie." He turned away.

"His chance has been spent. If he had done what was necessary from the beginning that mad man would have been nothing more than a hushed whisper in children's tales. Even you, one so young, must see how this all went wrong."

Ra's couldn't help but allow his lips to quirk. "Well read I see. A great teacher, a great writer, imparts only what will allow the student to grow, not his own follies." His lips thinned. "Perhaps I am, but not old enough to miss the bitter implications of your words. The Ra's al Ghul of your world has wronged you." He glanced down the street. "And for that I am sorry."

Tim kept a few feet between them, frowning. "Harvey Dent isn't Gotham's saving grace. Maybe he was, once, but that's not how he's remembere- going to be remembered." Sure as hell wasn't how Tim remembered him taking a brick to his head. He wanted to tell Ra's how wrong he was, how mistakenly he viewed Batman, Bruce, and this city. This Gotham was still easily saved. This Gotham hadn't seen the thousands of murders and assaults and kidnaps Tim's had. There were sons here not mourning their fathers, people the Boy Wonder knew Bruce had saved.

"No writer or teacher is that great. Failures are passed on just as easily as successes." Of that, Tim was more than aware. Starting when Ra's turned toward the street, Tim circled around behind him; not to attack, but to keep the distance from a separate angle. "Wait." Not old enough, he said, but not old enough to-? "How old are you?" Should be - what, over six hundred, shouldn't he? He was going to ignore the apology entirely, but couldn't help but comment: "I'd accept, but I know a Ra's al Ghul too well to buy that."

Ra's watched him, an almost pitying look on his face. This boy, how his own city must be to think this was life, that this place was acceptable. He seemed to have seen enough to understand yet some childish ideal refused to allow him to comprehend the pit that was this city.

It hardly mattered. One boy, no matter how skilled or who the teacher, was nothing in contrast to the bigger picture, to the service that needed rendering. Tim Drake was only a statistic, one more lost cause. It was a true shame.

"So what failures did Bruce pass on to you?" Ra's asked as he stepped onto the pavement of the deserted street, eerily so even for the time. "If your logic stands."

He paused at the question, glancing back at the boy with unmasked suspicion. His age? He raised his brow. "There have been many al Ghul's through out the ages. Not all are the same." He turned fully to face Tim. "Tell me why my age would matter and perhaps you will get your answer."

"He wasn't my only teacher." Tim stepped out of the alley, resisting the urge to put his hands in his pockets. "And no one taught me to illustrate my inabilities." He wanted to defend Bruce, but the man had taught Tim things he should not do over the years; and he'd been taught by example. Batman breaking from Bruce, the question of his innocence in a murder, there was situation after situation to learn from, but Tim knew his own failures, and knew there were some he couldn't possibly recognize. (He wasn't in denial. That wasn't a failure.)

"What failures did you pass on?" Tim glanced down the empty street, frowning. Why was it so dead tonight? Weird. Looking back at Ra's, he arched an eyebrow. "Assuming you taught him here."

That suspicion gave Tim pause, and he frowned back at the older man. This made no sense, how could - well. That was a big difference, wasn't it? "You aren't the only one. You just - you pass the title on?" He paused a moment, arms crossing over his chest. "What do you call your League?"

"I was unable to reach him completely." Ra's answered, sincerely at that. He had seen so much of himself in Bruce, perhaps he had been too blinded to realize before it all went wrong.

And now look, Bruce had lost the woman he must have loved, lost the man who could have helped 'Batman' truly clean this place, gained nothing but a shadow in opposition. Those failures, they may as well have been Ra's own. That was why he owed it to Bruce to clean this mess before it spread.

His brow raised, a moments paused before he answered. "Roughly translated the 'League of Shadows.'" he answered, how could there only be one al Ghul? His eyes narrowed. "It seems there is something in that statement before that troubles you."

Tim quirked an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against one arm. How - well, how strange. This was not at all what Tim expected of the - League of Shadows? Just as Ra's had reacted to the League's name, Tim wrinkled his nose, snorting. "Shadows?" Well didn't that just make it mysterious? He didn't roll his eyes, but it took effort. Super villains and their names...

Not that he should talk. He'd spent five years calling himself Robin, the Boy Wonder.

"I'm not troubled." Tim raked a hand through his short hair, still used to it being longer. "Just intrigued." It was fair to assume that there were no Lazarus Pits here, then. He was entirely certain that should not induce disappointment.

Ra's raised his brow at the reaction, turning back to the street apathetically. A teenager's opinion of the name of an organization that existed hundreds of years before the language they were speaking even drew it's first breath didn't sway him in the least. 'League of Assassins,' he had said. How interesting.

"No worse than Batman, I assure you." He mused, watching as a man in dark shades began towards them with a nod to Ra's. "Intrigued how?" He asked, not fully expecting an answer. It hardly mattered, if things went as they should he would have Edward's rather captive company soon enough to answer his inquiries.

The nod took Tim's attention for a moment, and he followed the older man's gaze to the darkly dressed third party. Dropping his arms to his sides, hands in loose fists, Tim frowned, subtly searching around them. He hadn't really expected Ra's to sic a bunch of ninjas on him - still didn't - but a healthy dose of suspicion couldn't hurt.

"The Ra's al Ghul of my world wouldn't take kindly to someone else using his name." And let that be it. Tim took a step away from the older man, down the sidewalk. "This'll be pointless, but I'm going to say it anyway. Trust me when I say it's unwise of you to try decimating this city again." Tim paused, not entirely sure if he had tried before. All things considered, there was only the clue of Bruce being on his 'second chance.' Still. "There are good people here."

Ra's attention moved from the approaching man back to Tim, gaze unreadable as he watched him. Give me more time, there are good people here. How long ago that had been, before the train and all the foolish mistakes. Before he had been betrayed a second time.

"When a forest grows too wild a purging fire is natural." He moved as he spoke, passing Tim with a cold gaze. "I told that to Bruce and I will tell it to you. There are those who move towards justice and those who oppose it. If someone gets in your way-" he smiled, nearly kindly. "-you slit their throat."

He stepped away without another word, heading over to the man who watched Tim closely as he did so.

He tried to keep the stiffening out of his shoulders, but his hands clenched tight anyway. Turning to keep Ra's in front of him as he passed, Tim watched him - and the other man - with a frown. "That's a terrible analogy, Ra's," he called after the older man. "Don't know anyone who thinks forest fires are purging. You can't take destruction, give it a new name, and expect it to have different connotations."

It was time to go. He knew without even looking at his watch, it was definitely time to go home. Home needed him, and he was only wasting time, trying to figure this Ra's. this League out. Even as he knew it was a waste, though, he knew he'd be spending a lot of time thinking on it.

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[RL, Ra's & Tim] Staring at the Sun

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