Ra's al Ghul knew exactly who the Batman before him was—Bruce Wayne. He had even burned down Wayne Manor in the past.
But the last time they encountered each other, Ra's had spared Bruce's life as repayment for saving his own. This time, however, Ra's planned to let Bruce fend for himself.
The result? Bruce survived once again and had come to stop him.
"Do you think having a helper will change anything? You're too naive, Bruce. This should end—but what must end is Gotham, a city beyond redemption and steeped in corruption," Ra's declared, his voice dripping with conviction.
Kara, standing beside Bruce, felt a flare of irritation. She hadn't planned to involve herself in this mess. But if Ra's thought so little of her, she couldn't just let that slide.
"You go handle him, Bruce. Leave the rest to me," Kara said with a glance at Ra's, stepping aside to let Bruce take center stage.
However, she wouldn't let Ra's dismiss her so easily.
With a smirk, Kara placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "By the way, is this all you've got? Just these kittens and puppies?"
Ra's sneered at her remark, then clapped his hands. From the shadows, a dozen more assassins emerged, joining the fighters already by his side. The Shadow Warrior Alliance had brought a total of twenty elite operatives.
Each assassin was a master of martial arts, proficient in ninjutsu, jujitsu, and a variety of combat techniques.
Bruce glanced at Kara, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Did you really have to provoke him?"
Though these reinforcements had likely been lying in wait regardless, Kara's taunt had undeniably triggered their emergence.
Ra's smirked at the duo. "They'll bring me your heads, and with that, Gotham's destruction will be assured. You'll witness its fall—although, not for long."
With that, he turned and calmly climbed into the train's compartment, confident in his victory. His plan was simple: transport the microwave emitter to Wayne Enterprises and use its central water hub to vaporize the toxin-laced water supply.
The Scarecrow's toxin required evaporation to take effect. If ingested as liquid, it remained harmless.
"You go stop him. Leave the rest to me," Kara said firmly before Bruce could object, volunteering to take on the bulk of the task.
"Can you handle it?" Bruce asked, genuinely concerned. He knew the strength of the Shadow Warrior Alliance.
Kara smirked. "Why do you think you called me? Don't worry, I'm not suicidal—I know what I'm doing."
Bruce hesitated but nodded. He couldn't afford to delay; the train was already starting to move. "Fine. But be careful. Don't take unnecessary risks."
Without another word, Bruce sprinted toward the train.
Two of the warriors immediately drew their blades, stepping forward to block his path.
These assassins, clad in ninja-like attire, carried swords reminiscent of katanas strapped to their backs.
Swish!
Before they could act, two sharp projectiles zipped past Bruce's sides. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of familiar shapes: his own bat-shaped throwing darts.
Thud!
The two warriors crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath them. The darts had pierced straight through their skulls, their tips nearly protruding from the other side.
Bruce turned his head slightly to see Kara standing with a smug grin, several more darts held loosely in her hands.
"Didn't I tell you I've got this?" she called out, her tone dripping with confidence.
Her movements had been so fast, even the trained assassins hadn't seen her throw the darts.
Kara stepped forward, raising her chin defiantly. "Hey, how about playing with me? Unless you kill me first, don't even think about stopping him."
The warriors froze, unsure how to proceed. There was an almost primal fear in the air—a sense of being locked in place, as if any sudden movement would bring certain death.
Bruce didn't waste the opportunity. He leapt onto the moving train, disappearing from sight.
The assassins exchanged uneasy glances, torn between their orders and the predator standing before them.
"It seems your so-called Shadow Warrior Alliance isn't all it's cracked up to be," Kara sneered, her voice laced with mockery. "For justice? For the greater good? You're nothing but a joke."
Some of the assassins bristled at her words, but none dared move.
"Come on!" Kara shouted, her voice rising to a frenzied pitch. "Aren't you going to kill me? I'm standing right here! Or do I have to come to you?"
Her relentless taunts finally broke their composure.
"Kill her!" one of them roared, drawing his blade. The others followed suit, surging forward with a unified cry.
But Kara moved faster.
The arrogance and mischief she'd displayed moments before vanished, replaced by an icy focus. She stowed the remaining darts and launched herself into their midst, her black cloak billowing behind her like a shadow.
Her first attack came in the form of a kick—a perfectly executed tan leg strike.
Her right leg became a blur, slamming into the side of one assassin with devastating force.
In martial arts, there's a saying: "Southern fists, Northern kicks." The tan leg technique epitomized Northern styles, emphasizing power, precision, and fluid motion.
Kara's execution was flawless. The first assassin crumpled, ribs shattering under the impact. Before the others could react, she spun and delivered a second kick, sending another flying.
Crack.
The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the air.
Thud.
One after another, the assassins fell, unable to withstand Kara's ruthless onslaught.
"Pathetic," Kara muttered, her eyes cold as she surveyed the remaining fighters. "If this is the best you've got, Ra's really should have hired better help."