Summary:Talia delivers the news to Bruce of her father's death and attempts to negotiate her plan to stay in Staten Island. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It had been a long evening of patrols. With the rise of supernatural and strange creatures in Staten Island, Bruce was burning the mid-night, or rather, pre-dawn oil after his patrol. The cowl has been pulled back, and he is in the small laboratory of the cave. The computer is running several scans with the help of Oracle to try to gain a link or pattern on the samples that he had taken from the wolf creatures several nights ago - trying to find a common DNA point that would point to patient zero of what appears to be a lycanthropy outbreak.
Most of the family has already returned from their patrols or nights out, but the cave security is always in place to only allow those that have access within. However, if one shares part of the DNA of a family member.. the system can be gotten by. Especially since the main component of the security is the secrecy itself. Unless you've been there, you don't know where it is. The number that do know is astronomically small, but there are a few outside the family that know.
As he works on a centrifuge to spin out the blood, quiet jazz plays on the speakers. Not enough to distract. He's got a cup of coffee nearby, and a frown on his feeatures as he works on programming the microscope to scan some of the hair folicles he collected.
The arrival of the Daughter of Demon's head is never something of fanfaire. In the days of old, letters were sent out filled with black powder to mark that death is coming to the house. Her arrival was in the form of herself. Having hidden in the shadows of the cave that she's snuck into, standing against the damp stone wall where the light always failed to meet the dark.
Hours. Maybe. Could he hear her breathing over the tapping of the keyboard? Maybe.
Could he also hear or feel the shift-change in the air as she finally emerged, footsteps quick, leaping over a tiny obstacle (quite possibly a uprisen rock) to approach at his back. No dagger, just bare, all in the attempt to draw her arms around his neck to put him in a choke hold that's neither naughty, nor nice..
If the steps were heard, Bruce doesn't respond immediately. Perhaps it was because he'd become comfortable in the idea that this was a safe place. Or that only Selina would dare get this close. However, the feel of the arms is different as Talia slips around him to start to try to take the breath from him. It would be that easy, wouldn't it?
Except it's not, and never will be. Instead, Bruce's hands drop down and swing back, in an attempt to hit the nerves on either hip of the would-be assassin as she tries to hold him, he rises from the chair, lifting her off the ground to make it harder for her to hold onto. He gives a grunt of anger, the vocal chords pushed in for the moment to not allow him to speak.
His face goes slightly red, but his fists pound into the woman's sides again, hard enough to bruise, as the heavy gauntlets hit against her. This will not be easy. They both know this, and as he glances at the monitor, he can see the reflection of his would-be killer in the glass. And his eyes widen. Why is she here?
Naturally it wasn't going to be easy, and he's gotten bigger since she's last saw him. Her hand clasps against her wrist to tug tighter, preparing to be lifted from the floor as most would do when they're in such a situation. In this position, movements are predictable. People would try to stand, as Bruce did. They would try to fight, as Bruce does.. but his hits make impact which does cause a few grunts of pain to draw from her lips.
She swings with him, hooking one leg around his waist but thinking better of it. That leg drops down to join the other, releasing her grasp once she realizes.. that -he- realizes exactly who his attacker was. Her gloved hands go up, not in surrender, but the promise that she will not attack him further as she takes those few calculated steps back.
One pace, two.
"I concede."
As soon as he sees the image in the monitor, Bruce was preparing to change tactics. His hands moved forward, flicking small switches in the gauntlets, and he started to electrify them to hit Talia's hips with a massive taser discharge. It may have tightened her grip, but it would have screwed her muscle memory in the process. But then she's releasing him - a fortorious moment for her as she pulls away, and the Bat stands down, the electric whine from the gauntlets slowing down.
He doesn't turn to face her. He hasn't seen her.. in a while. Instead, he focuses on her reflection in the monitor, his lips a thin line, eyes narrowed as he addresses that mirror image. Not her. Not directly. "He's not here." he finally says.
Damian.
"Whatever you want with him, Talia, he's been here long enough to be part of the family."
Battle of the Stone Ones.
That's what people would call this if they were to look upon this in the future. If they both either had one. Her hands slowly lower but her body remains tense. He kept his back to her. Fine. If that's how he wants to play this.
"I didn't come looking for him." She states plainly, watching the screen, seeing those piercing blues. "Though, good to know that you've turned my offspring into an utter failure." Her fingers snap. She'll deal with that soon.
"I've come for a truce of sorts. Will you listen."
"He is no failure." Bruce responds. "You wanted something soulless, you should have found something else." his tone is flat, even as he looks at the reflection. Though he knows she has a soul. He's seen it in action, before he finally turns to face her. Arms across his chest. Guarded. Protected. He's listening, but she can see that he's not going to be as open as one may hope.
"You should return to your father. You have no place in Staten Island." Bruce responds flatly as his blues reach to meet her dark eyes. She wanted him to say it to her face? Then he'll look her in the eyes.
"I did. His father."
This was said only when Bruce turns, her mimicking his stance with both arms folded as well. However, she leans a little bit to the side, clearly relaxed. This was almost -her- environment. Cold, damp and dark. She flourishes.
"Ra's al Ghul is dead." Is that the news that she wanted to deliver? Is she even really hurt by it?
Truthfully, she was. She was seeking comfort in her own way from the one person she -knew- wasn't going to get it. "I am now the Demons Head. Leviathan. My father is no more." Cold, hard. And for a split second? Remorse.
Like a fungus, she flourishes.
When the mention that Talia had chosen him as the soulless one, there's an arch of Bruce's eye as he looks at Talia, and there may have even been a small chuckle. Clearly the comment was ironic and humorous, which is what she was going for, right?
Then she delivers the news of her father's death. "Do you want me to inform Damian for you?" he asks her, considering the woman and her stance. While she may be guarded, he watches her, the way she delivers the news, the shift in her stance when she makes it known that she is the Leviathan now. And in that remorseful moment, Bruce lets down his guard.
"My condolences on the loss, Talia. He was.. he could have been a great man." If he had done more good. "I'm sorry." Said with sympathy and in a moment of empathy that may not mask the emotion towards the woman.
"And your plans now?"
"No. I'll tell him myself. It's been a while."
And, now that he's experienced the life of the Wayne's, it was time to come back home. "Unless your goal is to keep him away from the only mother he's ever known.." There was a thought, could he be? Is Bruce Wayne -that- cruel?
Though, once he offers up his condolences, there was a flash of memory. One standing upon the mountain tops, the declaration that where the eyes of the horizon end, that and beyond will be hers. She shudders. She doesn't break down in that moment, but now it was her turn to turn her back towards him to look out at the expanse of the cave, to step forward and pace quietly, still keeping her features hidden.
"Was." She confirms. Was. And that word was hard as the word dead.
"What do you think, Bruce?"
"Damian is old enough to decide on his own if he wants to see you." Bruce responds evenly. When she turns his back to her, and looks into the expanse of the darkness, his eyes follow hers into the dark. It will be where he will always dwell. She is high up. He is down in the dark. "I will inform him that you are near. He can decide what to do with that information."
Trust is a premium with the Dark Knight. The only thing he knows he can trust with Talia is his identity. There is no value in her giving it away, after all.
"He has been training with me, Talia." he finally decides to broach it. She wants him to come home. She's the Leviathan. And like the Leviathan before her, she will want to secure a heir. Bruce knows Ras had two - but Talia was the favored one.
So favored that it was his hand picked choice that his daughter be with his greatest adversary. But the next words may strike to the root. Because he knows what reaction it may draw from the woman.
The mother.
"He's taken the mantle of Robin."
For a moment, after the revelation of Damian taking the mantle of Robin, Talia remains silent. Her arms draw up, back still to him, which her fists clench together. She wanted to calm herself, show little emotion as possible. But it was a bit too late for that. Emotions were already high due to mentioning the death of the Demon's Head, now.. this?
"You son of a bitch." She spits out, turning. Anger and tears in her eyes. Her cheeks even flush a hint of red against tan skin, while her lips curl into a thin line.
"You are setting him up for failure!"
Bruce Wayne, the man with high expectations and little affection behind it all.
"I should kill you where you stand."
"You should leave." Before she does something that she'll regret. Bruce watches her for a moment. "His decisions are his to make. I never forced him." His hands splay out to his sides, the Bat symbol on his chest standing out. Should she have expected Bruce to do anything less when she sent Damian to him? He doesn't bring up that Damian plans to claim the cowl as well. That is between him and his half-sister.
"You sent him here to guide him. You shouldn't have expected anything less." Did he just throw her own words back at her? Perhaps.
"Staten Island is not the place for you, Talia al-Ghul." Just as he is not for her. She's probably seen the papers by now of his relationship with Selina Kyle. "You had the chance to step out of your father's shadow. And now you are engulfed by it." Does that really make her any differen than Damian, though?
War of the Stone Ones. This is becoming personal.
"Oh, I expected less. I did not approve. But what's done is done. He has his mantle. -I- will go for the crown." Her hands lower then, fists still clenched at her side. Grief slips from her body as she remains still, stiff, and on guard. In a way, she came to Bruce hoping for permission. A truce. To co-exist without getting in one and anothers way. To remake Demon's Head and the name Leviathan in her image. Anti-hero. Maybe.. or something..
But now?
The only relaxation that is seen within the way she moves is her walk. Bare feet pad to the ground as she approaches him. Face to face, within arms reach.
"And I have no regrets." She finalizes. Even though she did. "You think that whatever you built here.." She gestures above. ".. will last? It will not. I will personally see to your death, Bruce Wayne. Every thing about you, will burn."
She steps closer now, so much so that their leathers could possibly touch if he inhales..
"Your soon to be wife. Your children that spans across Staten, Staten itself. It's -mine-." There was temptation there, clear as he could see it, being so near. She could smell him, and she fought to hold back the quiver in her lip.
"And when there is nothing left, and you crawl to the Leviathan for mercy…"
For her to murder and kill? Bruce would have never agreed to that truce. She knows that.
As she approaches him, he watches her warily. If she had come for a truce, trying to attack him may not have been the best way to introduce it? Maybe it was foreplay. Who knows at this point. She closes the distance, he holds his ground. The metaphor is not lost on him. Not at all.
"Better and worse than you have tried, Talia." Bruce breathes, taking in her scent. At least she hasn't weaponized her perfume yet. "You have your own empire of dirt. Do not dare to interfer with the handling of the criminal element here, Talia. You do not want me as an enemy." Her father knows this. Knew this. His hands are still at his sides, and his own hands curl, to resist what she offers. What she brings to him.
"Your threat is as empty as your throne, Leviathan." No longer Talia. She wants to make threats? Then he's going to treat her no different than any other criminal. Threatening him? No problem. Threatening his family? His home? What he's made? What light that was in his blue eyes for her dims, and the hand lifts. Not to strike her, but to pull the cowl down.
"I'll let you walk now. But the next time you come here, it will not be welcomed."
Proclimations are only made once. She felt no need to continually threaten. At least that? They share in common.
With them, you only get once.
She holds her ground, taking in the scent of him, her fingers slowly uncurling as she watches him put on the cowl. That goddamned cowl..
But their future was set in stone, set in ruin. Did she even have a chance to do what she immediately wanted to do now? To kiss him.. to break him right then and there and spare him the suffering of watching his life, his city fall apart around him..
"Goddamn you Bruce.." She hisses, her hand slowly rising (since she did concede) to trace along beneath his lip of where his flesh remains exposed.. "Why didn't you save me?"
-That-.. she didn't mean to say. And it shocked her.
That smell of musk and sweat and the grime of Staten Island clings to him. The smell of the cordite from near misses - the stench of gunpowder. It's all there. He will never smell of her clean desert air and mountain snow. The city was always his place. This city. This place. He is a creature of the night. An urban nightmare brought to life, just as much as she is the Princess that is spoken of in hushed and reverent tones in 1001 stories.
It's an empire that is crumbled for both of them. The warmth of her finger on his lip brings him pause. And it brings back another night. Another time. When she pressed his finger to her lips to silence the last of his denials to take what she wanted from him that night.
To put a child - their child - in her womb. His heart picks up the pace for just a moment. She is still s beautiful. As full of life. She curses him. That he expects. Then she demands to know why he didn't save her. And the lenses of the mask narrow. His lips pull into a thin line. His hand travels up, along the more than supple line of her side, into her hair, and he grabs it. He nearly pulls her into a hard kiss - but instead, he pulls her back. Away from him. Denying her.
/Again/.
"You never wanted to be saved. You only wanted to claim." he hisses, releasing her. "And you did."
Yes! That was the ticket! Pull her into that kiss, she even creates a tiny yelp to emphasize that this is what she wanted. Him. To save her. To help her.
But with the push back (and probably a loss of a little bit of hair) he denies her. Two times, shut down and refused. What little bit of heart he had left, it's gone. And by the way she looks at him, holding onto her neck, the way she skittered back was like a tiny puppy who had gotten kicked from showing affection through bites of the hand.
Should she even try for a third? A fourth? A fifth? No, three heartbreaks on this full moon was just enough. Lines were drawn and the war has started, Judas would never be in attendance.
"Then it's settled, Batman." Still, hands go up as she slowly backs away, her hips a slow, dangerous sway. "You've doomed this city, your family, your self."
What's the saying…?
Hate to see her go, love to watch her leave?
It may not apply here.
"You should honor your father's memory, Leviathan." Batman responds finally when she pulls away. Denied and denied again. And he turned her away one more time. He's not sure if he could much longer. But he remains strong, because she needs to hear it. To know it.
"He knew when to step away and go home." he rumbles. "You made the decisions for your son. He's made those decisions you gave him. Now you should let go."
"Your father's gone. You have a chance to escape his shadow. But you have to do that. I can't do that for you."
She turns upon her heels, and from the darkness of where she once was, the boots were taken within her hands. She could hear him, her tracks stop as she looks down towards the ground, considering..
Considering..
Nothing.
"Perhaps that's what sets me apart from Ra's." She says quietly, lifting her chin to turn to watch him over her shoulder.
"I will honor his legacy Bruce, in my own way. And my son will be at my side. His nature is the Demon, and he -will- betray you in the end. Robin or not." Or, she'll kill his ass too.
As she leaves, Bruce shakes his head. There's a momentary sadness there, but he strengthens his resolve.
"And we will stop you too."
It's said quietly. Under his breath, before he makes sure she's out of the cave before returning to his work.