Monday, 8 February, 2016
’Eth Alth’eban
Somewhere in the Middle East
11:00 AMSwords clashed with mighty clangs as the assassins fought in the sands of the pit. Surrounded by walls of sandstone, their movements were severely restricted, forcing them to use every bit of their training. Their footwork was flawless as they ducked and weaved between each other’s blades, their swords glinting in the sun as they missed their target by a hair’s breadth. Each strike was deadly, each one purposeful, a part of sick, graceful dance, the performers instruments of death producing music that would stop one’s heart. Neither man made a sound as they clashed, their faces set in expressions of stoic calmness.
Ra’s al Ghul watched from above, standing on the arena’s balcony. He couldn’t care less about who survived the battle. The worthy would endure. The unworthy would not.
Al Sayf, the taller of the two warriors, managed to block his opponent’s stab with his own blade, grabbing the man’s wrist with his free hand and striking him in the face with the hilt of his sword. Without hesitation, al Sayf positioned his blade on his dazed comrade and in one quick motion, slit his throat. Gore seeped into the sand as the man slumped, clutching his neck tightly as he choked on his own blood. Al Sayf had triumphed. He was worthy.
The victor turned to face Ra’s, bending down to one knee, head bowed. He awaited judgement.
“Despite your failures, you have proven yourself worthy to serve for the League. Rise, al Sayf, and rejoin your brethren,” commanded Ra’s.
Without a glance at his master, Sayf rose and exited the pit, the blood of his brother staining his uniform.
“There's no need to hide in the shadows, Mr. Savage. You've come to talk?” asked Ra's with a sigh, turning to face the only man to have lived longer than he.
Vandal Savage was an impressive sight to behold. Standing at 5’ 10”, his strength was evident, from the way he held himself to the muscles that bulged through his undoubtedly expensive clothing. His face seemed to be carved from stone, its sculptor a master, only marred by a single scar that ran through his left eye, where the chisel had missed its mark. His black hair was slicked back, his beard well groomed. But what stood out the most were his eyes; the only parts that showed his true age. For upon looking into them, one could truly understand just how much he had seen; just how much he had done; just how much he was going to do. He was a man of ambition. He was a man of power. He was superior.
Vandal Savage was not to be trifled with.
He stepped out from the shadows which obscured him, smiling gently at his ally. “Isn’t it a waste of soldiery to commit them to such gladiatorial acts?”
“They had both failed to complete their missions,” replied Ra’s, “They were obliged to a trial by combat. The victor proves himself worthy of a second chance. His opponent is cast into the fire. To allow both to roam free would be a far greater waste than subjecting one to death.”
“I see,” said Vandal, nodding. “You’ve no doubt heard of the Bratva’s failed endeavour?”
“I have. A shame, but it was inevitable. What of Leonov?”
“Found dead in his cell with haemorrhaging to the brain. It seems Mr. Zytle was quick to dispose of him.”
“Good… This archer, the Green Arrow. He has proven to be quite the nuisance.”
“Prometheus has promised of a quick disposal once we launch our attack.”
“Which is when, exactly?” asked the Demon’s Head, irritated.
“Soon, my friend. You must be patient. When one has lived for as long as I have, you truly learn what it means to have it. You’ve lived for centuries, Ra’s… I’ve lived for an eternity. Soon you will learn, just as I have.”
Ra’s glared at him. He did not appreciate being patronised. “And what of the Man of Steel? The detective? They are much larger threats to our enterprise than Queen ever will be.”
“Mr. Luthor and the Court have both proven to be firm allies. They will see our cause through, I have no doubt about it. And neither should you." The threat was evident in his voice.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Savage,” Ra’s said, eyeing the man, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
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