The cold water cascaded over Jason's body, washing away the blood, sweat, and grime of the mission.
The droplets stung as they hit the fresh cuts and bruises littering his skin, but the pain was a welcome distraction.
It grounded him, kept him tethered to the present. His muscles screamed in protest as he moved, every motion a reminder of the brutal fight he had just survived.
The metahuman's fists had left their mark—his ribs ached with every breath, and his side was a patchwork of purple and black bruises.
He winced as he reached for the soap, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the tender flesh.
"I must have broken a rib or two," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the pain as he began to wash the blood from his skin.
The water ran red for a moment before clearing, the evidence of his violence swirling down the drain. "Might have to pay a visit to the infirmary later," he added, his tone dry, almost sarcastic, as if he were mocking his own injuries.
The shower was agonizing but necessary. It was a ritual, a way to cleanse not just his body but his mind.
The cold water helped numb the pain, both physical and mental, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and let the water drown out the world.
But the peace didn't last. The memory of the mission—of the children, of the metahuman, of himself—crept back in, unbidden and unwelcome.
He stepped out of the shower, the cold air hitting his damp skin like a slap. He grabbed a towel and dried off quickly, his movements mechanical, almost robotic.
His mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the night over and over again.
The fight.
The voice.
The figure in the shadows. It all felt so real, so vivid, like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
He dropped onto his bed, the thin mattress offering little comfort. His body ached, his mind raced, and exhaustion weighed heavily on him.
"So much for my first mission," he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling like a storm.
The mission had been a success—Khalid was dead, the compound was destroyed, and the League's objectives had been met. But at what cost?
The image of the children chained to the walls flashed in his mind, their wide, terrified eyes haunting him. He had freed them, yes, but it didn't feel like enough. It never felt like enough.
And then there was the other thing—the version of him he had seen, the version of himself that had emerged from the shadows of his consciousness while in a concussive state, whispering those dark, insidious words. "You know you can't escape me."
Jason clenched his fist, his knuckles white as he fought to steady his trembling hand. The fear he had felt in that moment—the overwhelming, paralyzing fear—was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.
He tried to rationalize it, to convince himself it had been an illusion, a trick of his mind brought on by exhaustion and adrenaline.
But deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a part of him, a part he had tried to bury, to ignore, to forget.
He closed his eyes, willing the thoughts to stop, but they only grew louder, more insistent. The voice, the figure, the chains—it all felt so real, so alive. He could still feel the weight of its presence, pressing down on him, suffocating him.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus, to push the thoughts aside. He couldn't afford to dwell on it, not now. Not when Ra's watchful eyes are on him.
But as he lay there, the exhaustion finally overtaking him, the thoughts crept back in, unbidden and unwelcome. The voice whispered in the back of his mind, soft and insidious. "You know you need me."
Jason's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat up, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, his fingers trembling slightly. He couldn't escape it.
No matter how hard he tried, the voice was always there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for him to let down his guard.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to lose control, not now. Not ever.
With a heavy sigh, he lay back down, his body sinking into the thin mattress. His eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, to escape the thoughts, if only for a little while.
But as he drifted off, the voice followed him into the darkness, whispering those same haunting words.
"You can't escape me!!"
- - -
Deep in thoughts and standing at the large window of his office, Ra's al Ghul stared over the mountains and into the night sky when a knock at his door disrupted his thoughts.
Giving the go ahead, the door opened and the League member tasked with leading the mission Jason went on, walked in, returning for a report different from the previous.
He was tasked with leading the extermination of the terrorist group but to not interfere with Jason who was tasked with claiming Khalid's head, rather keep a watchful eye on him and observe from a rational distance.
While Jason battled the metahuman and eliminated his target, he watched the whole thing from the sidelines.
When Jason was near death and all hope seemed to be lost, he did not even flinch as he obeyed the order given to him by Ra's al Ghul, and only observed without interference.
"My Lord." He greeted with a bow, then stood up straight in wait for questioning.
"So tell me, how did the boy fare on the mission?" He asked, walking over behind his desk as he took a seat.
Clearing his throat, he began. "He did well to eliminate the target but he ran into a bit of trouble while on it."
"What kind of trouble?" With a cocked brow and a hint of curiosity for detail in his tone, Ra's asked the man.
"The target had a personal bodyguard who turned out to be a metahuman." He replied.
"Hmm...A metahuman. He did mention Khalid's bodyguard was quite a foe." To Ra's It couldn't be helped, one was bound to encounter unaccounted variables during missions.
After a brief moment of pondering the thought, he reached for his chin as he stroked his beard. "What powers did he possess?"
The man briefed Ra's on the enhanced characteristics he had observed from the fight. But to Ra's that sounded like a large man with superhuman strength and impenetrable skin, basically what he was.
"How did he fare against this person?"
"He fought quite well with little unnecessary movements, although he was overwhelmed and was so close to losing the fight." This made him even more curious as to how Jason managed to end this adversary of his.
Without a word from Ra's, the man continued, giving him the final details.
"The eyes huh, that was good judgment." Ra's remarked, Jason's training appears to be quite effective as he seems to be even more of a quick study than he anticipated.
"He thinks fast on his feet." He muttered, ruminating on Jason's battle IQ.
"That would be all." He said as he gestured a dismissive wave towards the man.
With a slight bow, he pivoted and proceeded towards the exit of the office but came to an abrupt pause.
He looked down for a second as if contemplating something. Ra's noticed this and asked the man, "Anything else?"
"Yes, my Lord." He replied as he turned towards him. "I do not know if this is of enough importance to be included in the report. The target had a number of enslaved underaged children, most likely for trafficking. Jason freed the children after disposing of him."
"Hmm."
Without a definite response, he dismissed him. "You may leave." The man bowed once more and exited the office.
- - -
[Jason Todd's POV]
Strolling down within the massive compound was something I find myself doing these days since I was unable to partake in training, which sucked by the way.
It's been over a week since that mission and the geezer hasn't asked me about any sort of detailed information from the mission. He's just been making me do more meditation each passing day.
He only advised me to learn from the fight's experience. Maybe the guy who gave the report never mentioned the children.
I leaned over the edge of the upper floor's balcony, watching the various exercises below.
Ra's may have suspended me from combat training, but he didn't say anything about not watching others train so I could make mental notes of moves that catch my eye while I watch the others train.
I looked over to Damian who happened to be having his ass whooped by an opponent who wasn't pulling their punches at all.
They might probably be sick of the kid's arrogance and wanting to teach him a solid lesson like I do, not caring if he was the heir to the League or whatever.
They disarmed him with a swift manoeuvre and swept him off his feet. He landed on his butt and his own blade was pointed right up his face.
The look of frustration on his face was so priceless that I could not help the laugh of mockery which escaped me.
The pressure from my mockery must have been so intense that he looked up, gazing right at me with furrowed brows, wanting to channel his anger towards me in an attempt to mask his wounded pride.
Fuck!!
I coughed as I crouched a bit, leaning more upon the wooden edge as I reached for my ribs as my insides burned with excruciating pain. It hurt like hell to even laugh.
Before completing that thought, I let out another series of laughter, the pain was totally worth the sight of Damien's walk of shame and embarrassment as he left the arena.
Due to the League's custom of concealing their identities, I don't know who his opponent was but they seemed quite interesting.
A person who is willing to humiliate that brat so well that I couldn't help it but laugh through the pains from my ribcage, needs to share a drink with me while we discuss how much we enjoy tormenting the brats pompous spirit.
Yeah, call me a bully or whatever I don't care. I know he is just a kid but that pest needs to be humbled big time before he gets any older. Who knows what he might turn into when he hits his rebellious teenage phase.
Taking deep breaths as I looked up at the sky, wondering if the universe had bestowed this role upon me. If so, I enthusiastically obliged.
Well, too bad there is no way of telling that guy apart from the rest. Still in thoughts as I looked over the training ground in search of some significant feature of Damian's opponent that could help me tell him apart from the rest, the geezer's voice came from behind me.
I was almost spooked by his sudden appearance but gave no reaction to confirm it, maintaining my nonchalant demeanour without even turning to look his way.
"You seem to be in good spirits ." He said, walking to my side as he joined me at the edge of the balcony.
"Well, I guess I woke up on the good side of bed this morning. Or would you prefer I let myself look as depressing as my insides feel?" I replied without averting my gaze from the on going training match below.
With the various training so far, I've developed senses so kin that I could sense the presence of anyone within my space, the air has some way of giving their presence away.
But this geezer concealed his presence so well that I didn't even notice him until he spoke.
"If I must say, it is quite good to see you in such a moo–"
Unable to hold back my curious thoughts, I blurted out one of the questions in my head, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. "Are you Dracula or something?"
For a brief second, his face had a confused expression. "What do you mean, boy?" He asked.
Since I woke up in this base, this my first time glimpsing an expression other than the usual stoic look I was beginning to think was hatched on his face.
"That came out wrong." Rephrasing my words by giving a more elaborate explanation, I continued. "I mean, you walked up from behind me and got to my side without the most minimalistic hint of your presence."
"Oh..." He let out an extremely brief laugh, probably still amused by me asking if he was Dracula just cause' I couldn't sense him.
"It's an extremely advanced level of stealth. One I might teach you in due time." He replied.
"Clearly, I'm currently on an unavoidable and mandatory break from combat training. It wouldn't hurt to get a few pointers for that level of stealth."
He mused on the topic for a while, while I prayed he wouldn't dismiss it and make me do more meditative exercise.
"That level of stealth requires a level of mental fortitude which you currently lack, boy."
"Then teach me how to build such mental fortitude." I pressed on.
"You currently undergo the basic level of such training." He replied with a raised brow, having on an expression like a teacher who expects his student to already know the answer to whatever the fuck they were talking about.
'For fuck sake!' I mentally exclaimed, the answer seemed to be the one practice I enjoyed the least.
"Meditation." I replied, earning a slight nod of approval from him.
"It is a practice that brings calm to one's mind and being."
"Then why do I find it hard to grasp? Almost like I'm wasting my time just sitting with my eyes closed."
He did not give an immediate reply but stroked his grey beard in thought as he dug into his purse of wisdom before giving his response.
"Elaborate on your experience ." He asked as if seeking deeper insight before he concluded on my diagnosis.
"At times it feels like there is so much turmoil within my mind that it feels like a fractured and puzzled mess. Even when it gets calm during our practices, there's an uproar which expels that state of bliss."
He was my mentor, it was only right I gave him a glimpse of my own struggles and roadblocks I experienced with his teachings.
"Come with me." He turned and I followed behind him.
We walked down one of the halls until we arrived at a dead end. At this point, with a side eye I looked at the geezer with the thought of maybe he was finally going senile but no one had noticed it until now.
He reached for the stone wall and pushed in a brick sized block. The stone wall did a rotation of one-eighty degrees, revealing a stairway which seemed so deep as if leading deep within the earth.
"Hmmm, a secret passage." For some reason I wasn't surprised by that. In fact, I'd say it was to be expected that the geezer would have some secret passages or at least a false wall.
As we stepped in about three steps down, the entrance shut close behind our backs.
I turned to observe if I could spot the way to open it from this side but it was too dark to see anything, while he continued down, eyes forward without even turning for a glimpse over his shoulders.
We walked down the dark and creepy stairway for a couple of minutes when a glow of light came into sight.
It appeared to radiate from the curved corner to the right as it shine against the left wall. At least there was light at the end of the tunnel. Pun intended.