Jason knows it’s naive, but it was all too easy. He wants revenge against Bruce, against the Joker…. But the Joker doesn’t even exist here. He’s as far from that monster as he’ll ever be able to be.
And there’s no one here that knows him. He has a chance to get away from Talia and the League.
He knows Talia is keeping him away because Ra’s will kill him if given the opportunity.
But here?
Here, he’s free from Batman, from the League, from anyone who wants to try and control him.
A bullet ricochets off the building next to him.
Well.. free as soon as he gets these German octo-idiots off his tail.
They’re morons. But by god, they’re well-connected morons. Somehow they’ve managed to chase him across three borders, from bum-fuck-nowheresville, Russia to mediocre-as-fuck City, Turkey.
You’d think they’d be less attached to him after spending barely a week with him before he burned down their base and killed all their men.
And right after he killed his first German asshole too.
Egon and HYDRA are two different types of scumbags. But they’re still scumbags.
Jason hops another fence, scrambling to the top of the dumpster and then up the first level of the fire escape.
He pauses as he hears shouts around the corner. Well, it’s as a good a time as any.
They corral themselves into the alley way, fully dressed in their tactical gear, blaring red Nazi-armbands and all.
The first guy is the biggest, Jason takes him down fast, the second… he gets a little sloppy but honestly, he doesn’t care when the spare asshole impales himself on Jason’s knife. Gonna be a bitch to clean though.
The third guy takes a bit more of a tussle and right when Jason gets in his face to start asking questions, the jerk smiles.
“Hydra will get what it wants from you child. Cut off one head, and three shall take its place.” There’s a suspicious crack before the man’s mouth fills with foam as his eyes roll back.
Jason drops the body in disgust. A waste of information. He glances at the first guy, it’ll be a pain to lug to an abandoned floor but… probably worth it to find out why they’re chasing him.
Jason walks over and yanks open the guy’s mouth. Now where….? Ah ha!
It takes a bit of prying with his blade but moments later, Jason holds a bloody cyanide capsule in his fingers.
It crushes uselessly beneath his feet.
After getting leverage under the guy, Jason is able to haul the limp man up the two flights of stairs to his current empty safe-house.
Okay, yes, safe-house is a bit of a stretch. As it is neither safe anymore, nor been a livable house in a long time.
It’s because of this that Jason doesn’t even bother putting a tarp down before tying the man to a chair.
“Wakey wakey, assface.” Jason says.
There’s no response except a mild groan.
Then screaming as Jason plunges his still-dirty knife into the man’s collarbone.
He smirks. Time to ask Nazi Number 1 some questions.
———
When Coulson gets the assignment to Northern Turkey for the bodies of two dead Hydra agents, he’s almost expecting it to be boring.
Of course, the moment he lands he finds out they’ve found the third body. Any hope for boring goes out the window as he looks at the multilated corpse of what used to be a Hydra agent.
This was torture. Expert torture. Combined with the skill of the two dead in the alley below and the chase his ground agents have been able to track.. they’re dealing with a professional here. And not a new one.
But somehow, they have nothing on the assassin. That makes him dangerous.
Coulson steps into the hallway of the abandoned building to make a call.
One ring.. two… three..-
“Hello?”
“Hawkeye.”
The tone changes over the phone, “Coulson? What’s wrong?”
“Care for a search and remove mission in Akyaka, Turkey? We have an unknown assassin that’s popped up with three dead Hydra already under their belt. Could use a good pair of eyes.”
Coulson could hear the smile on the other end of the line, “You know I’m always up for some sightseeing.”
“I’ll send for transport.”
The call ends and Phil glances back through the open doorway at the body. Whoever did this… they were looking for something. He thinks they must have found it.
Clint shows up on a private red-eye the next afternoon; and with barely a greeting, the two launch into the search.
Between the two of them and the bevy of SHIELD agents at their beck and call, it should be a straightforward mission.
It’s not.
The killer is always a town or a city ahead of them. There’s no aliases to track or face to ID, with the red sweatshirt he wears constantly, hood up, head down. They barely have a height or body type estimate by the time two weeks roll past.
Seven more Hydra agents show up dead in that time, and it’s becoming the most dependable way to track him.
When they realize the man is making towards the airport in Erzurum, Clint calls in Natasha.
It takes them another week stillto find where the man will be staying for a few days before moving on.
When they find it though, Coulson has the place locked down within the hour, entirely discreet.
He and Natasha are acting as the front, hopefully this will go diplomatically. If not.. that’s where Clint comes in.
The man walks through the darkness of the apartment, heavily dropping groceries on the counter.
Just as they’re about to wonder if perhaps they were wrong about this person or their skills, the man pulls two guns directly at them.
“Who the hell are you and what the hell do want from me?”
“Mr. Smith. I’m glad to see you are the person we’ve been looking for. However, it would be best if would lower your weapon and cooperate with your arrest.”
“Phil, wait-“
“I’m not cooperating with shit, baldy.” The man cocked his guns, completely ignoring Natasha.
She quickly flicked on a light switch, illuminating the shadows of the man’s face.
But that was the problem. It wasn’t a man, it was a kid.
“How old are you?”
The kid hesitated, already a bad sign, then he snarled, “What does it matter, lady?”
“It matters because this changes things. Coulson,” She looked at him, “He’s just like us. We can’t just let him be.”
Coulson’s face was serious and understanding, “Listen, kid, we can help you. Now that we know-“
“Now that you know? Know what? You know nothing,”
“We can help you, please just come with us, SHIELD can-“
There’s a spark of recognition, “You’re Shield.” He raised his guns back up from where they’d gone slack, “Which makes you Black Widow. Greatest living product of the Red Room.”
A flash of surprise passed through her eyes, “How do you-“
“I read a lot about you. And let me tell you this. Both of you. I just got free from one shadow organization, I’m not about to join another. I’ve been both soldier and weapon, now I’m neither. I plan to stay that way. Even if it means killing you and every black ops agent in this building.” The kid growled, finger pulling on the trigger.
An arrow pierces through his forearm, forcing him to roll backwards into his kitchen. Natasha leapt towards him, halting when he raised a gun back at her face.
He wavered between pointing it at Coulson or Natasha, breathing heavily through the pain.
“Tell your buddies thanks but I’m good. Freedom suits me just fine.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt for the window over the sink, crashing through the glass and into the air outside.
Natasha didn’t even have time to stop him before the kid was gone. No sign of him on the street below save for a blood trail that tapered off quickly.
——
Hours later, Natasha’s eyes flicker open from sleep in the darkness of their safe house.
Why was she awake?
A small creak sounded from outside the room.
An intruder.
Slowly, Natasha wrapped her hands around her gun and slunk out the door, tapping Clint on her way.
There was a groan and slight clatter in the kitchen.
She motioned for Clint to go around.
As she came to the kitchen, she flipped on a light, immediately aiming her gun at the figure.
It was- the kid?
“Hey,” he groaned, leaning on the counter, blood on his face and clothes, “you said SHIELD could protect me?”
Natasha nodded, not lowering her gun.
He pulled his hand away to show the blood oozing from a large wound on his stomach and looked up at her pleadingly, “That offer still available?”
Jason slowly crawled his way back to consciousness, fully aware of the screeching pain in his side and arm.
He wanted to grimace but held back when he registered the presence of other people in the room. Three.
Two were at least 10 feet away, the other was…
Jason grabbed the wrist of the person leaning over him, twisting it backwards as he sprung awake and upwards.
A syringe dropped to the floor next to them as Jason slammed him to the ground.
“Clint, wait!” The man below him stopped struggling. Jason looked down at him.
“Clint Barton. Hawkeye.” The night came flooding back to him, “What was in the syringe?”
The man grunted uncomfortably from the awkward position, “Morphine, you brat.”
Jason scowled and let him up with a tight smile and a wince, “I don’t do morphine. Or any pain meds.”
“Yeah, well you can just suffer through that torn stitch all on your own then.”
“Considering you’re probably the one that shot me with an arrow, I think I’ll manage.”
Jason snapped back and then paused to take stock of the room he was in.
Small. Living room. Old couch, half-filled bookcase by the front door.
One window with a fire escape. Adjacent bedroom and 2 kitchen entrances. Likely with windows.
The other two people - Black Widow and ‘Coulson’- stood by the bookshelf, both armed.
“I know I should regret shooting a kid, but considering your attitude, I’m finding it a little hard.”
Jason huffed a laugh then winced and clutched his side when pain flashed through it.
“Ha. Karma.” Hawkeye chuckled as he rubbed his wrist.
“Barton. Behave.” ‘Coulson’ stepped forward, shooting a sharp look at the other and holding up a placating hand, “You’re going to want to be careful about that side, reopening a would like that so fast would not be good.”
“I’ll be fine.” Jason snapped, then quieter, “Been through worse.”
“Be that as it may…” the balding man came closer, stopping when Jason glared at him, “I think we got off on the wrong foot, my name is Agent Coulson, this is Agents Barton and Romanoff. Or as you seem to know them, Black Widow and Hawkeye.”
“Don’t sweat the first impressions. Breaking in and threatening me is generally how I meet new people, so it’s not like you’re anything special. How long was I out?”
“Just under three hours. We expected you to be out for a while longer. Care to explain why it is you’re awake? Or how you came to such a state in the last 6 hours since we saw you?”
“Not particularly and the usual assholes being sent on missions way out of their league. One got a lucky hit in, that’s it.”
The man in front of him hummed and raised an eyebrow, “So you came to us for protection from ‘the usual assholes’ then?”
Jason tensed.
“Or protection from the ones sending them?”
Jason gritted his teeth, “The ones sending them. Listen, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be, but things have… changed for me recently and I’ve found myself in dire need of new allies.”
Widow stepped forward, “So enlighten us. Who are you running from?”
“I can’t tell you and I’m not running. I just… I was given a chance to get out, more than that, get away. I want to take it. I can’t do that with Nazi assholes and Ninjas bearing down on me like I’ll change my fucking mind.”
“Hydra?”
Jason sighed and rolled his shoulder to test it, “Yep.”
“That’s a powerful enemy to make, kid,” Hawkeye piped in.
Jason smiled cynically, “Yeah, well, I’m a worse one. If they want to keep sending their guys at me to get put down I have no problem with it. And I’m not a kid.”
“Ehhhh, looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, I’m gonna say you’re what, 13?”
Jason growled at the archer, “Old enough and skilled enough to skin you with your own bowstring, asshole.”
Widow stepped between them, “You said Ninjas as well?”
Jason clamped his mouth shut.
“If you want SHIELD’s protection, we need to know who we’re protecting you from.”
Jason clenched his jaw, “I can’t tell you their name. And nothing about them can show up anywhere. If it does, they’ll know who it came from and where I am. Then you’d be useless.”
“How about you then?” Widow said.
Jason paused, stunned, “What?”
“Tell us about you. We don’t even know your real name, because ‘John Smith’ is definitely not it.”
“John works. ‘J’ works better.”
“Alright, Jay. Age?”
Jason looked away, “Somewhere over 14.”
“The hell does that mean? ‘Over 14’ Like months or years over?” Hawkeye said with a bewildered face.
“If I knew I would tell you. But unfortunately, I don’t, so the best I can tell you is somewhere over 14.” Jason snarled.
Coulson and Widow gave each other a look, one that he was sure Hawkeye picked up on without even looking.
“Alright, easy goes it kid. Birthday?”
“August.”
“Wow, that is frustratingly vague. Any chance you’ve got a year to tack on that?”
Jason thought for a second, “Nope.”
Black Widow took over again, “Skill set?”
“Most of it.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Most of what?”
Jason gave a mean smirk, “Everything.”
Romanoff glanced back at her partners, Barton just shrugged and Coulson answered, “We’ll have to test you on that for more specifics.”
“Go ahead. As long as you know it’s the only kind of test I’m gonna let you do.”
Even though his face stayed empty, something flickered in Coulson’s eyes, “Of course. Any parents we should be thinking of?”
Green tinted anger coursed through Jason’s body so fast the chair he was gripping creaked under his hand, “None that are worth it.” He growled through clenched teeth.
“Anything else we should be aware of? Favorite color? Hobbies? Hopes and dreams?” Hawkeye quipped lazily.
Jason ground his teeth together, “Currently? Stabbing you through the neck with same arrow you shot me with sounds nice. But seeing as I snapped it in half and dumped it in an alley, I’ll settle for breaking your kneecaps.”
Barton looked unfazed, “Is that categorized under hobbies? Or hopes and dreams?”
Jason stood with a snarl, hand twitching for a weapon, “I’m always up for finding out.”
“Ha! Try knitting next time,” Clint laughed and looked past him, “Geez, ‘Tasha, he’s worse than you were.”
Natasha’s lips settled into a grim line as Coulson pulled Barton back with a hand on his shoulder.
“Kid-, Jay, we need your cooperation on this. We can’t stop whoever’s coming after you if you don’t work with us-“
Jason scoffed, “I don’t expect you to be able to stop them. You couldn’t if you tried. I’m just hoping you’ll delay them enough for me to run like a bat outta hell.” He said with a smirk at the inside joke.
Hawkeye rolled his eyes, “And isn’t that a comforting thought.”
Just as Jason turned to snap at the man again, something beeped on Coulson’s watch. He held it and read the small screen.
“Our ride’s here. We need to blend in to get out,” Coulson looked at Jason, “Any chance you know Turkish?”
“I dabble.” He answered in Turkish, then changed, “My Russian or Romanian is better.”
Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow, even Widow’s twitched.
Coulson nodded, “Hopefully we won’t need to talk, but just in case.” He turned to Barton to, “Barton, get him some new clothes without blood on them. We leave in 20. Can we trust you not to kill us and run or do we need to remove more of your weapons?”
Jason scowled- not pouted- “You got my favorites so we’re good provided Katniss over there doesn’t get on my nerves enough to put him down.”
“I resent that remark!” Hawkeye said as he dug through the bag they’d confiscated from Jason’s safe house. He chucked the new clothes at Jason with a smile.
Jason caught them with a grunt and winced as sharp pain struck up his leg and his side. He stomped past them to the bathroom as best he could without a limp. Pausing briefly to grab the first aid kit from the wall.
“For the popped stitch.” He said blandly and then shut and locked the door behind him.
Hawkeye sighed, shoulders dropping, “Damn, that kid is messed up.”
“I hope the people chasing him dare to try and come for him.” Natasha said darkly, face cold and hard as stone.
“If they do, I hope I get to put an arrow through a least a few of them.”
Coulson cleared his throat, “Let’s focus on getting him out of here before we start planning the next step.”
“Come on, Phil, you can’t tell me that just guessing at what that kid’s gone through doesn’t make you want to punch someone.”
“I never said anything about that, just that it’s not our first priority.”
I do like the reaction that Talia and Ra’s have to Damian Wayne and Flatline sharing their first kiss together.
On a side note I’m just glad that Damian seems happier for once. In the comics he has been through the shitter for a long time. I also really like his dynamic with flatline so far. She’s a fun character who has been a standout in the Robin book so far. I look forward to seeing how the book develops their relationship in future issues.
Life must be hard for Damian having a milf mom, a dilf dad, a himbo older brother, AND a gilf grandfather
My favourite part in this post is people in the comments not only discussing the amount of himbo older brothers Damian has but which grandad is op referring to. Because, apparently;
For people who honestly legitimately believe with all their hearts that Tim is obviously the second greatest detective in the family after Bruce because he solves mysteries all the time…..do you like, KNOW that Dick doesn’t solve mysteries on his own or have you just never read a Nightwing comic?
Because I promise you there are literal decades of Dick solving cases all on his own. I don’t know why people think it’s just the one time he helped Donna find out about her past. LOL. He literally does detective work all by himself all. The. Time.
I’m obviously not as educated on the Batfam as you, but didn’t Ra’s Al Ghul called Tim “Detective”, something he only reserves for Bruce?
I’m not saying Dick isn’t a great detective on his own, and truthfully I think this whole “ranking the Robins” thing in fandom is stupid. They both approach their detective work in different ways, which is kind of the point, considering they’re two entirely different characters.
Oh you know I hate the niche thing where everyone has their one trait no one else has and that’s kinda the point of this LOL. That they’re all smart and great detectives. And for the record they don’t actually approach detective work all that differently. That’s kinda also what I was getting at haha. That there’s actually practically no difference in how they’re written when it comes to solving mysteries or figuring out clues so I’m honestly not sure why people just….assume there is? Tbh Dick is primarily the one who TAUGHT Tim detective work, even more so than Bruce. Tim’s made mention of this himself at times, so there’s really no actual foundation I can think of to suggest they have extremely different approaches to case solving. Tim’s approach was literally taught to him by Dick LOL.
But also yeah, Ra’s has called Tim Detective like Bruce but he’s also called Dick that as well. It isn’t something only Tim can claim, and I’m not entirely sure why people are so sure it is? Because there are definitely stories where Ra’s has called Dick Detective, where Ra’s has acknowledged Dick as a worthy successor to Bruce and Dick’s even beaten Ra’s in a sword duel. Dick’s often been written as a worthy adversary to Ra’s, he’s just got a lot of villains more closely associated with him so it doesn’t come up as much as it does with Tim specifically. It’s very much all there though.
Let’s not forget that Ra’s has called Bruce, Dick, Jason and Tim detective. As they say, it’s probably just that can’t remember their names.
sorry, it’s been a hot second since I’ve posted. Lots of work and writers block do NOT go together. I’d like to thank my friend cybergeist for helping me finish this by giving me some ideas of what I can do with it.
I’m the strong one, I’m not nervous I’m as tough as the crust of the earth is
There were certain expectations put upon both Marinette and Damian Al Ghul, but especially Marinette. She was the first born twin and was unfortunately, the born the weakest of the two. Ra’s Al Ghul was not pleased when he had found out that Marinette had to be put on life support as soon as she was born. Ra’s had no care for the gender of the first born, afterall he did plan to pass down his legacy to Talia. No, what he cared about was that Marinette was small, sickly, weak, and most importantly, she was defective. But Talia had begged him to keep the girl alive, so he did, but the expectation of perfection was placed higher for her than it had ever been for Damian. She would have to prove that it was worth the energy to keep her alive. Show that she wasn’t a defect. Prove that she was worthy of the name. She had to be the strongest one for the both of them, she had to be the strongest or else she would be discarded for her failures, that is if she ever allowed herself to have any.
I move mountains, I move churches And I glow ‘cause I know what my worth is
Marinette knew what her worth was equal to. Her life was worth as much as she could give to the League that raised her. Mother taught her how to “glow” and lure her enemies with her looks. She could move around and push down the strongest and more muscular assassins with ease. Her physical body was worth nothing, what she used it for never mattered to anyone. The only thing that mattered was that the mission was completed. Her worth depended on the basis that she followed orders to a ‘T’. Her worth relied on if she lived through everything she was put up against.
I don’t ask how hard the work is
There was a silent rule that you never questioned the assignment you were given. It never mattered how hard the task was, how deadly it may be, you got it done without another word or you died trying. Marinette and Damian knew this rule well. Failure wasn’t even supposed to be a thought of, it wasn’t supposed to exist in their vocabulary, but they had seen Grandfather kill failures. They knew that not all assassins made it back from their missions, they knew that death was always one slip up away. So they never failed, they weren’t allowed to, they were perfect weapons. She knew that they would be severely punished if any dared to break the ideal of perfection and question the Demon Head.
Got a rough indestructible surface Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em I take what I’m handed, I break what’s demanded
Marinette was seen as an indestructible warrior. It didn’t matter what the task was, how hard it was, or how deadly it might have been; she finished her missions and returned back to the League every. Single. Time. And it was all to please her mother and grandfather (Grandfather never was). She vowed to herself that she would one day make them proud of her, even if it was only for a short amount of time.
Damian looked up to his older sister. Her smooth confidence, the way she handled all the expectations that were placed on her shoulders, the way she was able to hide her emotions, and how she treated him when they were alone. There were so many missions that she had taken that made him fear for her life, but she always returned. Many times she was so badly injured that he feared that she would not survive the night when he had seen her return, but she always recovered in the end. She would never become the heir to the Demon’s Head, but she was his sister and he knew that she would stand by his side when it was his turn to rule the assassins. She would be his guard and stay at his right hand at all times.
But Under the surface I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus
But under Marinette’s cool indifference was this itch, no, a fireunder her skin that would never leave her. She knew that if she messed up even oncethat it would be the end for her. Every step she took hadto be calculated, every move was important if she wanted to survive and not fall into some trap or her own inevitable death. She was walking a very thin line, and she knew that if she tipped even a little bit, she would never be able to balance herself again. She would never have the opportunity as there would be no safety net to catch her.
Under the surface Was Hercules ever like “Yo, I don’t wanna fight Cerberus”?
Marinette loved mythology. It was one of the few classes that she looked forward to when she was back on base. Many times on missions she would think of Hercules and wondered what his thoughts were when he went through The Twelve Tasks. While Marinette could relate to the many tasks that they were both put through, all designed to make sure they died. They never did though, and they continued on to the next deadly task trying to prove that they were not defective and that they could be worthy.
Marinette often wondered if Hercules ever wanted to run away from the death that constantly surrounded him. Did he ever actually want to fight Cerberus or any of the beasts he was told to kill for forgiveness? Did he likekilling all of those creatures? Was he really that loyalto his family that he himself murdered that he would go through allof that to “repent”? Would shedo that for her own family? Damian, yes, but what about Grandfather and Mother? If she were being completely honest, she didn’t think she would. Did that make her a despicable person? Was she really the monster that she always heard people call her when they thought she wasn’t there or wasn’t listening?
She didn’t like taking the lives of her targets, especially when they were just little children. She hated what she was told to do, but she did it anyway because failure to finish the mission was never a thought when she was on the field. She was tiredof all the blood and death that always surrounded her, tiredof having to carry it all out. But she could never even thinkof leaving Damian alone with the League for longer than a month.
Hercules wasn’t her favorite God though. No, her favorite God was Hephaestus. He was known as the ugliest God and was cast out of Heaven for his defective form. He was a master blacksmith, and proved to the other God’s that even if he looked wrong, that didn’t mean he was worthless. Just because Marinette was born wrong and still had defects because of her birth such as her small frame and her mental defects of depression and anxiety, that didn’t mean that she was useless. She was strong, powerful, and a trickster when she needed or wanted to be, just like Hephaestus. She would make her own name for herself, and one day, people willrespect it if they ever want her help.
Under the surface I’m pretty sure I’m worthless if I can’t be of service
After years of living in the League and absolutely nothingin her life had changed even remotely. She would often just let her mind wander and let herself go through the motions of her constant never ending routine. She often wondered if she was worthless even with all the work she did. Was the only reason she was alive really because of her service or was there something else at play that she just couldn’t see? If she didn’t do what she was told, how quickly would they kill her? Would they just disown her and kick her out? No, they wouldn’t want evidence, they would have to kill her and get rid of her body. Would they kill her quickly, or would they draw it out and use the same torture methods she used on others? It would be almost poetic if that were the case, especially if they made Damian conduct it. She shivered at the mere thought of it though. She prayed that they wouldn’t make him do it, anyone besides him.
A flaw or a crack The straw in the stack That breaks the camel’s back What breaks the camel’s back it’s Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that’ll never stop, whoa
She couldn’t risk showing anyone that she had a flaw or crack her walls. She couldn’t let a single thing, no matter how small, break her. She chanted this to herself over and over again in her head. She could feel the blood drip off of her forehead from the ambush. Everything was starting to get blurry, but she had to keep fighting.
Father would be so disappointed if she failed, and Damian would tell her that she was acting like a failure, again. She panted as she looked around at the still conscious assassins and the ones that kept spawning out of the shadows and began to circle around her. There were so many voices in her head, Oracle was telling her to runon the comms. Unfortunately the voices in her head were muchlouder. All she could hear was her Father telling her she needed to work harderand be better, Damian telling her that she was letting him down and bringing dishonorto the family, Grandfather telling her that she was worthlessif she didn’t fulfill her duty.
Drip
Drip
Drip
The sound of her blood running down her face and into the puddle of blood below her filled the street. Was this where she failed, was this small thing what broke her? Normally she could take out all these assassins easily, her head would be clear and she would be able to pull herself together and focus.
Pressure that’ll tip, tip, tip 'till you just go pop, whoa
But it wasn’t one of those days, she was tired, her mind was clouded, and all she could hear were the voices screaming in her head that all reminded her of her failures. Her head was spinning a million miles a minute and she just could notkeep the voices in her head straight or silence them like she had been able to before. Her head felt like it was going to explode, it was so full and clouded, and it felt like she was going to collapse with all of the weight mounted on her shoulders. At this point she couldn’t even tell if the weight was invisible anymore, could others see it? Would anybody be able to see the load that was about to make her finally tip over the edge? Would they even care?
Give it to your sister, your sister’s older Give her all the heavy things we can’t shoulder Who am I if I can’t run with the ball?
Memory upon memory flooded her mind of all the responsibilities that she needed to carry and be fully aware of even now. She knew that many of the punishments for Damian’s “failures” were too much, far too harsh, for him, so she would plead with her grandfather to give them to her. He’d often give them to her with little convincing on her part. She had also tried to do this with Father, but he would never let her. He said that Damian needed to learn for himself what the consequences for his actions were.
Her mind flashed back to one of the many incidents that caused permanent reminders to liter her back.
“Please Grandfather. It was not Damian’s fault! Please, I will take the punishment, give me the burden. He will never repeat the offense again. I will make sure of it.”
She pleaded with her head bowed as she kneeled down at her grandfather’s throne. Last time she had made eye contact while she pleaded for her little brother he carried a look in his eyes that made her feel sick with fear. It was some kind of sick amusement, and she was scared she would actually vomit if she ever saw it again.
“Very well. His punishment was twenty lashes in front of the entire League, you will take them instead.”
Marinette swallowed slightly at the thought of more lashings on her still healing back. She knew that he was lying in the fact that Damian’s punishment would have been public. He just wanted to humiliate her, remind her of her place and worth in his eyes. She needed to do this though, Damian would one day lead the League and he needed to be in perfect condition for that to happen. Who was she if she couldn’t protect her brother, it was her duty to protect him.
She didn’t understand why Grandfather’s assassin’s were going after her. She knew Damian was currently with Father, so why come after someone as useless as her? It didn’t matter though, she would continue to carry on the duty of protector for her family. She would shoulder all of the responsibility that Damian doesn’t understand quite yet. She couldn’t fall yet, and even though her entire body wanted to collapse, she got back into her fighting stance and attacked.
If I fall to Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won’t let go, whoa
Marinette gripped at the restraints keeping her arms above her head as the whip lashed down against her back again, and again, and again. She stood tall through all of it because she knew that if she fell onto her knees the pain would be so. Much. Worse. She could feel Damian’s gaze on her, it burned even worse than the lashes that continued to rain against her back. It definitely felt like more than 20 (Damian said it was).
Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it’s ready to blow, whoa Give it to your sister, your sister’s stronger See if she can hang on a little longer Who am I if I can’t carry it all?
The voices continued to grow louder and louder in her head and ear, so without thinking she took the comm out and threw it. She needed to focus, get away from all of the distractions right now because if she was going to live through this attack she needed to clear her head! She had to do this, they were after her, and who knew if they were also going after Damian.
She could do this, Father and the others should be on route, right? She just needed to hang on a little longer, she could do it! If she couldn’t do this simple task then who was she? Her back burned at the mere memory of what failure can cost.
If I falter Under the surface I hide my nerves and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us
She needed to pull herself together, Marinette thought as she stabbed one of the assassins in a non-vital area in the leg.
Under the surface The ship doesn’t swerve as it heard how big the iceberg is
Marinette had a feeling that her family was close by. She couldn’t know for sure as she had thrown out her comm, but she’d like to believe that. It didn’t matter though, she had three assassins left. She could handle them, then she could go back home and sleep. The thought of sleep was enough of a distraction that for a brief second she lost her focus, and that was her biggest mistake. She jumped for one of the assassins and it felt like everything stopped before continuing in slow motion as another one came at her from her left side. She couldn’t stop her movement now that she had set her full momentum into play. She would need to find a way to get out of this with minimal harm done to herself quickly.
Under they surface I think about my purpose,
Instead of thinking logically to make a plan to get out of the situation, her brain just did notwant to function. They really had to pick today of all days where she just didn’t have her head screwed on right to go after her. Her mind instead wandered to one of her favorite moments with her little brother, even though he’s taller than her now.
It was a small recon mission, nothing grand or overly complex. They were in Hong Kong, China and it was the Chinese New Year. She remembered walking down the festive streets, the scent of all of the different foods, and all of the different styles of clothes the people wore. It was magical, and she could tell Damian was also fascinated with the scenes around them.
“Shaqiq, can we go watch the firework show? I hear they are a big and important tradition here.”
Damian was silent for a few moments before he gave a sharp nod.
“I believe that it would be a satisfactory reward for our work.”
And with that the twins ran around the city often stopping to watch small parades, dragon dances, and so many other festivities that occurred on the streets. Finally they made it to the firework show and watched the colorful explosions used only for show and the benefit of others rather than the death and destruction they were used to. They both laid side by side on the soft grass, almost cuddling together as they watched the lights and shapes made by the fireworks. It was a beautiful night, and one of the only times she could remember where both she and her brother were at peace, even for just a few moments.
It was hard to think of other times after that where she was able to help Damian. Soon it was hard to ever impress him, and she became a disappointment in his eyes as well. Had she done something wrong? Was she ever a good big sister? She tried to be, she tried everyday to be the best sibling, but it never seemed to be enough. Even after they left the League he always spent time with Grayson or Todd, was she no longer enough? She had to be a terrible sister if he never wanted to be around her anymore. And if he was always gone and she couldn’t protect him, did that mean she no longer had a purpose? Did that mean she really was worthless now?
can I somehow preserve this?
Marinette knew that she was doomed as soon as she felt the prick in her leg. She felt everything begin to tilt on its axis in a terrible and horrifying way. Could she find a way to get out of this before she passed out? Could she fight through the sedative and preserve her life? Did she even have a chanceof winning now?
Line up the dominoes A light wind blows You try to stop it tumbling But on and on it goes
Each step she took grew heavier and heavier. Her eyes seemed to droop more and more with each blink. Her breathing was becoming more laborious and staying awake seemed now and more pointless by the second. She couldn’t fall asleep though, not here, not now! Marinette fought through the sedative as hard as she could and even managed to knock out one of the three assassins.
Unfortunately she was getting sloppier as each step took more and more of an effort to make. Everything felt almost numb and it only took one step on a puddle of her own blood to make her slip up. It was poetic in a way, that her blood was what led to her downfall as the next thing she knew she was on the ground. Her brain just couldn’t process things fast enough and before she knew it her hands and feet were hogtied behind her back. She tried to struggle out of the ropes, but all of her energy seemed to be completely drained from her body and all she could do was lay there and let her eyes fall shut.
But wait If I could shake the crushing weight of expectations Would that free some room up for joy
Marinette remembered what it was like to stare at the manor that she would now live in with her father and apparently other brothers for the first time. Her chest seemed to lighten at the thought of not having the same expectations the League had put upon her. She wouldn’t have to train to kill as she had heard that her father forbade murder. She may not even have to fight or be a vigilante if she didn’t want to. That thought brought a warm feeling that bloomed in her chest. She nearly cried at the thought of finally living a peaceful life.
Or relaxation, or simple pleasure?
Maybe she could draw and not have to hide it from anyone. Maybe her family would even like her drawings! Or she could read books for fun rather than educational purposes. She had heard of all of these different types of books and genres from her missions, so maybe she could read and understand what they were talking about now! She closed her eyes and imagined drinking tea in the beautiful garden or just taking a nap in the sun when it was day. Being able to let her guard down and just…be. Nothing to drag her down, no one trying to kill her, a life of tranquility and maybe even love…
Instead we measure this growing pressure Keeps growing, keep going
Her dreams immediately crashed down around her when she saw Damian attack one of Father’s partners. Not just any partner, his right hand partner. Robin, A.K.A. Timothy Jackson Drake. She quickly jumped in and pulled Damian back, saving the boy from the random and unexpected attack.
“Damian! What are you doing? We can not attack Father’s partners.”
She scolded. Damian just glared at her and crossed his arms replying haughtily,
“He is not worthy of being Father’s partner. He is not blood, I am.”
And with that response Marinette knew that she would never be free of the pressure and expectations that immediately dropped back onto her shoulders tenfold. Damian was going to be the difficult twin, the obvious troublemaker. That meant that she had to be the good, perfect twin, just like before. She would have to keep Damian in line and stop him from causing problems so Father wouldn’t hate her them. Afterall, if they caused too many problems Father might kick them out and send them back to the League, and Marinette would do anythingtonever go back there. She refused to ever let that happen. She would kill herself before she was ever brought back to that wretched place.
So with a bright smile that was meant to send a warning to Damian and show she meant no harm to the others she calmly replied,
“That is no way to speak to your new brother Damian. He is important to Father so he must be important to us.”
Damian looked down and mumbled under his breath,
“Maybe to you, but not me.”
It was barely audible, but she heard it. Damian had been picking up more of Grandfather’s methods when he was around her. Of course they were never as horrible, but the verbal lashings had been more harsh and frequent than ever before.
Her shoulders felt so heavy, how much more if this could she really handle? The answer: More . One of the many voices in the back of her mind whispered. You can and must handle so muchmore. Marinette stood up and turned to the boy that Damian attacked and began to apologize for Damian’s actions as one of Father’s other partners began to talk to her brother and lead him away from Tim…and herself.
'Cause all we know is Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that’ll never stop, whoa
The tears wouldn’t stop falling onto the floor. The drip, drip, drip of salt water fell onto the smooth cement floor. The weight was both physical and mental as she was held down by Grandfather’s assassins. Father had been too late, if he had even come for her at all, and now she awaited her inevitable fate at the hands of the merciless Demon’s Head.
Each tear that had fallen held a memory of her past that had led to the current breakdown that was years in the making as she was being transported to who knew where. The League of Assassins had so many bases all over the world, many of which had a Lazarus Pit that it was impossible for her to truly know where she would end up till she was there. Her body shook with the effort to keep her sorrow silent, but she hadn’t made a sound yet, and she was going to keep it that way.
Pressure that’ll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa-oh-oh
She tried to hold back her tears, but everytime she did it felt like someone was pouring acid on her eyes. Everything was broken, her mind felt fractured and her facade of strength and confidence finally broke. They always said that the bottle always shatters during the worst of times. Her frame seemed to shake even though she refused to let out the sobs that burned her throat and needed to escape! The salt of her tears burnedagainst her skin, falling deep into the cracks of her soul and scorched it with every drop.
Give it to your sister, it doesn’t hurt
Damian’s disappointed face flashed before her eyes and his voice rang in her ears, “Don’t be weak sister, you need to be strong. Your tears are useless.” Marinette didn’t want to disappoint him again, she hated disappointing anyone she cared about.
And see if she can handle every family burden Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks
She steeled back the tears, let the pressure burn behind her eyes. She hoped that Damian would neverknow of her moment of weakness. She prayed that she would stay strong and face this trial without more embarrassing things such as her stupid emotions getting in the way. She would stand strong, and she won’t let anything get to her again. She could feel the stone walls being built up again as she composed herself. She would never be weak again.
No mistakes just
Marinette was practically thrown to her knees as they entered the room that contained Grandfather’s once intimidating throne room that she had once feared as she knew that being there meant only terrible news and/or pain. Taking in a deep breath and knowing that she was now stronger than she was the last time she was in this predicament she lifted her head and stared directly into Ra’s deadly green eyes. She had never been happier than she was at this moment that she had inherited her father’s blue eyes rather than his. Ra’s glared at her, a silent warning to look away, but she refused. She would show him. She wasn’t a defect, her birth was only a setback, being a weak sickly child was and never would be her fate.
“What a pleasant greeting Grandfather, I don’t suppose I’m here for a family reunion.”
Marientte said sarcastically as she stared almost bored at the man standing above her. The glare he sent her would have once made her cower in fear, but not anymore. Never again.
Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won’t let go, woah
Ra’s was dragging her somewhere now, his grip firm and achingly tight around her wrist. She tried to fight against it, but she was too weak from the previous battle as none of the wounds had been tended to. It didn’t help that the world was practically spinning due to the concussion she had received, not to mention the amount of blood loss.
Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'till it’s ready to blow, woah Give it to your sister and never wonder If the same pressure would’ve pulled you under
Damian paced the back of the Batplane front and back, front and back, front and back, until he yelled out his frustration and punched at the wall. Unfortunately it did nothing to take away the anxiety that tore and ate at him alive. The tension was thick as everyone did everything they could to find his sister, their sister, Bruce’s daughter. Damian knew how strong his sister was, how much she had grown from being trained under Father’s wing, but he also knew what she had gone through with their Grandfather. She was born sick, wrong, but she became such an amazing fighter and was extremely intellectual. She had taken on so many things for him, taken so many of his punishments to prove her strength, but it was always for not. He had to get his sister back!
Damian snapped his head to the side and watched as Drake hacked into different sections of the League and listened to what his moles knew about what was happening. Apparently they knew nothing. They reported that they didn’t even know the Demon Head was on a base as he had gone incognito over two months ago. Damian had never been religious, had too much blood on his hands and knowledge of the horrors that were on this Earth to believe that a God would ever let these things happen. But at this moment, he prayed to any and every God that seemed to exist that they would reach her in time. That she was fine, well as fine as she could be after the battle she endured, and most importantly. He prayedthat she was ALIVE.
Who am I if I don’t have what it takes?
Marinette gripped at the hand that was wrapped tightly around her neck as she was held right above the green bubbling pit that Ra’s loved so much. There was a sword exactly where her heart was, the sharp point teasing her. The bite gave her the smallest sample of what was to come.
“You were born weak and defective, an abomination of what an Al Ghul should be.”
Ra’s began in his deep stoic voice. Marinette was tempted to spit in his face, but she knew better than to further anger the man who could kill her in a second’s time.
“Though you have grown you are still defective, you have not reached the perfection you need to be a true fighter for our family. But I will make you perfect, I will reforge you in the Lazarus Pit so that you will be my perfect blade. The weapon you were always meant to be. Only then will you truly be ready to protect me and your brother, to protect your true family.”
No cracks, no breaks No mistakes, no pressure
Marinette looked Ra’s directly in the eyes and used the glare that her father had taught her. She had already lost hope that her family would get to her in time, she had always known that it was unlikely they would. She knew her grandfather well, she knew that this was planned far in advance. Everything calculated so that the plan would go through without interruption and that she would not be able to escape. But that didn’t mean that she was going to surrender.
“I am perfect the way I am. I am not and never have been defective. I will never be your weapon,”
She said disgusted and filled with a righteous anger that blazed to life inside her chest.
“I am Damian’s sword, I am his armor, and I am his shield. Nothing you do, no sword, no whip, no torture, and no Lazarus Pit will ever change that.”
Ra’s laughed at her, but Marinette only continued to glare at the man. Even as the grip around her neck grew tighter, she would never again cower away from him or anyone.
“You may have found some strength, but you forget. You are the property of The League of Assassins, and that means you will always be mine.”
He said, whispering “mine” in her ear before running the sword through her. A gasp tore through Marinette as her eyes widened as nothing but pure agonyburnedandruptured through her body. It didn’t stop there as she felt the sword be pulled out of her in small increments that caused anguished screams to rip their way out of her throat. But even through the torment, she never broke her gaze with the monster that was her grandfather. She didn’t break it when she was falling. She didn’t break it when she was submerged in the thin pool of green, bubbling, scathing waters. She didn’t break it when her body burned from the inside out and her thoughts were replaced with an angered voice that whispered for her to kill,kill,kill! Destroy the Ba* that caused your torment and anguish. Make him feel all of the pain you felt. Kill him, and you’ll be free of him and the burdens he places upon you. Kill him and you and brother will never have to fear him everagain. Marinette blinked once. All she see was green. And all she could feel was pure unadulterated rage.
I was prevented from watching this episode because of family. Funny enough, this episode was about family. At least it was about found family which we stand in this house.
So we now know for sure Onyx is not a mole. I love her story. I hope we get to see more of her.
Cass almost had her battle with her mom taken away. Like I understand Artemis didn’t think she could do it. I was just really excited to she Cass fight Shiva. With swords? I was more thinking of hand to hand combat but a fight’s a fight. I’m glad we got to see her not only fight her mom but show that she understands not to be like her. Without saying a word. A kinda good show don’t tell thing. I wonder why she is so obsessed with getting Cass. Like I understand this a foil for Jade and training a human soldier is not a quick process, but like this urgency, there has to be a reason for needing her. Probably there’s not a really deep explanation besides she want her daughter.
The Shade was a real plot twist. I did not see that coming.
More Barbara and Cass please!
Jonny! We get to hear him talk, and we get to see the Kent’s!! Sad considering the circumstances, but since I am almost 100% certain he isn’t dead, I’m not really worried. But I love how they brought up Clark and Conner’s relationship in season 1. They are brothers! I love it.
Jade almost went back. She wants to be with her family but she can’t because she’s scared. I found it really cute that Lian made a “mommy” mask. This means that she knows who her mom is which is kinda good. However she kinda made a mask of a criminal, but it’s so innocent. She wants to be her mom! A strong woman.
Jason, because that is who the Red Hooded Ninja is, talked again. I wonder if this season it will be revealed at least to us that Jason is alive.
What if they just put him in the show just to mess with us?
Also everyone but Artemis bows when Ra’s Al Ghul entered. Artemis isn’t going to give the crazy old guy “respect.”
The whole Ra’s Al Ghul family bootcamp thing is interesting. I trust him because Dick said “Ra’s Al Ghul is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.” I trust that. I trust that he does want to help them. That’s not what I’m really concerned about. What I am concerned about is why? Why does he want to help them? What does he have to gain? Why did he left the League?
The talk about how the league manipulated people to be zealous to the cause and the way they showed Talia during that scene and at the very end is trying to tell us something. Earlier in the arc we had Talia say she would never give up Damian. I wonder if this will play into Dick’s arc or not. I don’t know exactly what they’re trying to tell us but I do know it has to be connected with Shiva and Jade. There is a connection between Shiva and Talia because they were in the same pose to the camera at the end.
