The Man And The Hood

Jason had already closed the distance between himself and Ra's, a glinting kitchen knife now in his hand. His movements were swift and precise, honed into his muscle memories from years of training—he thrust the blade toward the elder man's chest, aiming to end the Demon's Head in one strike.

The attack was intercepted.

A masked League of Shadows guard, who had been standing silently in the corner, reacted instantly. He caught Jason's arm mid-thrust and slammed his head into the table with a dull thud.

The knife clattered to the ground, skidding out of reach.

Jason gritted his teeth, refusing to yield. Using his free elbow, he drove it into the guard's face with enough force to make the man stagger back. But the grip on his arm was ironclad.

Thinking quickly, Jason stomped on the guard's foot, leveraging the pain to push himself upward. He kicked off the edge of the table, twisting mid-air like a wildcat, and landed behind the guard, finally freeing himself from the hold.

Ra's remained seated, his expression passive. He observed the scuffle as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Talia, however, was now on her feet, her body tense, while the masked guard took a low, balanced stance, preparing for the next move.

Jason lowered himself into a neutral stance, his eyes fixed on the ground, hair hanging over his face. "What kind of monsters play with the dead?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. His shoulders rose and fell with each ragged breath. "What kind of sick people disturb the souls of the resting?"

Ra's cocked his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.

Jason slowly lifted his head, his face shadowed but his eyes unmistakable. They were a dull, unnatural shade of green, devoid of any spark or reflection. They were dead eyes—empty and haunting.

"Jason?" Talia's voice softened as she addressed him cautiously. "Are you… there?"

Jason's gaze shifted toward her, but it was as if he was looking through her rather than at her.

Without warning, he lunged, aiming to take Talia down. But the masked guard intercepted him with a perfectly timed strike, blocking Jason's advance.

The guard opened with a series of swift, calculated jabs aimed at Jason's torso and head, each blow designed to disorient.

Jason countered with raw aggression, parrying the strikes and delivering a brutal knee to the guard's ribs. The guard staggered but immediately retaliated, sweeping low to trip Jason.

Jason leapt over the sweep, using the momentum to deliver a spinning kick to the guard's shoulder. The impact made the guard stumble, but he recovered quickly, locking Jason in a grapple.

The two struggled, each vying for dominance. Jason headbutted the guard, loosening the hold, then twisted free, landing a vicious elbow strike to the man's jaw.

The guard faltered but adapted, using Jason's momentum to throw him toward the table. Jason hit the edge, knocking over plates and glasses, but he didn't stay down.

Grabbing a broken plate shard, he flung it at the guard, forcing him to block. In that split second, Jason surged forward, his fists a blur as he overwhelmed the guard with a barrage of punches.

The guard managed to catch Jason's wrist, twisting it to disarm him. But Jason, ever resourceful, used his free hand to strike the man's throat.

The guard gasped, losing his balance, and Jason capitalized on the opening. He swept the guard's legs out from under him and delivered a final, decisive blow to the back of his head, leaving the man unconscious.

Jason turned, his focus shifting to Ra's. Talia was now on the opposite side of the room, her expression wary. Jason moved toward Ra's with a dangerous calm, his fists clenched and his steps deliberate.

Ra's, unbothered by the chaos, simply extended a hand. Jason swung his fist, but Ra's caught it effortlessly, pulling Jason forward and delivering a precise strike to his temple. Jason's body went limp, collapsing onto the floor in an unconscious heap.

"What just happened?" Talia asked, her voice tinged with both concern and frustration.

Ra's stood, examining Jason's lifeless form with a critical eye. "It appears," he said slowly, "that this is a side effect of the Lazarus Pit. A temporary surge of overwhelming anger, perhaps… or something deeper."

Talia glanced at Jason, her brow furrowed. "And what do we do with him now?"

Ra's smiled faintly, his tone as cold as ever. "We wait. The answers will reveal themselves in time."

****

At sunrise Jason stirred awake, his bleary eyes blinking open to the same dimly lit ceiling he had seen before. "Why does this feel like déjà vu?" he muttered to himself, shifting slightly on the bed.

He tried piecing together memories of the previous night. The last thing he could recall was dining with Ra's and Talia al Ghul. Beyond that? Nothing.

"Must've had too much to drink," he concluded with a faint groan. The lack of clear memories didn't bother him much—after all, losing his memory was already a recurring theme in his life. "Cut me some slack," he muttered under his breath.

Jason sat up, letting his eyes adjust to the faint glow of the torches in the room. His attention snagged on something different this time: a masked figure standing silently by the door, watching him. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Great," he muttered. "Either I'm hallucinating, or the creepy patrol has officially arrived."

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Jason swung his legs off the bed and reached for the slippers placed neatly beside it.

He crossed the room to the adjoining bathroom, freshened up, and returned, towel-drying his hair. As he glanced back at the door, the figure was still there, unmoving.

"Not a hallucination after all," he noted grimly, tossing the towel aside as he got dressed.

The silence was unbearable. "Hey, what's your deal?" Jason called out, addressing the figure. The masked person remained eerily quiet, their gaze fixed straight ahead.

Jason frowned, stepping closer. "You're just gonna stand there? No explanation? No ominous warnings? I feel like I'm starring in some low-budget thriller."

Still nothing.

"Alright, fine. I'm out," Jason declared, striding toward the door. But as he reached for the handle, the figure moved swiftly, blocking his path with an assertive sidestep.

Jason raised a brow. "Last warning, get out of my way."

The figure held firm. Then, to Jason's surprise, a woman's voice broke the silence. "Lady Talia has ordered that you remain here until she arrives."

Jason smirked. "Oh, so you do talk. And you're a lady. I was hoping for that. Otherwise, it'd be even creepier having some dude standing there, watching me sleep."

Before she could respond, Jason reached up and tugged the mask from her face. The woman gasped, revealing striking features marred by a bold scar running diagonally across her cheek. Snatching the mask back, she quickly pulled it over her face again.

"A pretty one, too," Jason remarked, his tone neutral but laced with cheek.

The woman's voice sharpened. "Do not ever do that again."

Jason's smirk deepened. "Feisty, huh? Look, I wouldn't be bothering you if you just let me out of this room."

"My orders are to ensure you stay put. Lady Talia will come for you when she have your time." She snapped, her tone all business.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Right. Because waiting around in a glorified dungeon sounds like a blast."

He stepped forward, brushing past her, but she moved with lightning speed, pulling his arm over her shoulder and attempting to flip him. Jason instinctively adjusted his stance, flipping himself to land squarely on his feet.

The exchange escalated. She threw a punch, which Jason caught, followed by a kick that he narrowly dodged.

The fight ended abruptly when she jabbed two pressure points on his shoulder, rendering his arm limp. Jason stared at his useless limb, then cast an intense gaze at the woman, a wave of raw bloodlust radiating from him.

The woman faltered for a moment, her instincts urging her to step back. She regained her composure, widening the distance between them.

Before Jason could retaliate, the door swung open.

"What is going on here?" Talia's voice cut through the tension as she entered the room. Her sharp gaze flicked between Jason and the masked woman.

Jason pointed accusingly. "She creeped on me all night and refused to let me leave."

The masked woman stood at attention, speaking curtly. "I followed your orders, Lady Talia. He refused to comply."

Talia studied Jason with a raised brow. "How do you feel?"

"…Peachy," Jason deadpanned.

Talia nodded, dismissing the guard with a wave. The woman bowed stiffly before leaving, not without casting one last hostile glare at Jason.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" Talia asked, her tone probing. From the lack of light in his eyes when he acted hostile, she assumed the might have not been himself and probably wouldn't remember much of his actions that from the previous night.

Jason frowned, trying to recall. "Not much. I remember dinner and… then waking up in my bed without the slightest memory of how I got back to my room last night.. What happened? Am I going to keep losing chunks of my memory like this?"

Talia hesitated, then gestured for him to follow. "Come with me. My father will explain."

Jason sighed, trailing after her. "Sure, why not? I'll just ignore the whole magical schizophrenia vibe I've got going on." He deadpanned, sarcasm practically dripping down his words.

"That's what we're about to find out, now stop with the sarcasm and follow me," she said, exasperation evident in her voice.

"Finally," Jason muttered, ignoring her tone as he fell into step behind her.

Stepping out of his chambers, the hallways were dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on stone walls. Shadows danced across the ancient, worn floors, adding an eerie ambiance to the fortress.

Jason couldn't help but notice the masked individuals patrolling in silence, their movements purposeful. Every one of them was armed—knives, swords, and other weapons glinted faintly in the torchlight. His eyes lingered on a guard adjusting a strap on his chest.

"Who are you people, anyway?" he finally asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

Talia glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, as though she found his question amusing.

They made a sharp turn, entering a narrower, more secluded hallway guarded by two imposing figures who stood like statues, their faces obscured by dark masks.

As they passed the guards, she mused aloud, "We are part of an organization that was long thought to be a myth—an invention of Ra's al Ghul to keep his followers in line. But in reality, we exist to stop humanity from destroying itself. That is our sacred duty."

Jason frowned, trying to process what she had just told him. "So, you guys are like some kind of… world-saving vigilantes?"

Talia chuckled softly. "Something like that. But we've been doing this for over a thousand years. While the world remains blissfully ignorant of us, we carry on with our mission."

As they approached a grand wooden door adorned with intricate carvings, her pace slowed. The air here felt heavier, the faint scent of incense lingering in the corridor.

Jason smirked faintly. "I wouldn't be surprised if you told me the old man was some kind of immortal vampire."

This earned a genuine laugh from Talia, light and melodic. "Not quite. He is no vampire, but he is indeed centuries old. A man of great power and unparalleled knowledge." She gestured at the door. "We're here."

She knocked lightly, her voice soft but firm as she called out, "Father."

A deep voice responded from the other side. "Come in, daughter."

...

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