[Jason Todd's POV]
Jason found himself tied to a chair and unable to move. The vivid image of a clown in a purple suit appeared in front of him as a maniacal laughter with a strong hint of lunacy filled the air.
The clown was about to strike him across the face when he suddenly jolted from his sleep, covered in sweat and panting as he began to gasp for air.
"It was only a nightmare." He muttered, still struggling to breath. 'But why a clown of all things, and why this overwhelming feeling of both fear and something I can only describe as pure hatred.' He thought.
After a short while, his breath became calm and steady. He then laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of at least getting some rest that night.
He needed to be well rested for his next training to commence in a couple hours. He shut his eyes and tried to catch some sleep but unfortunately for him, he was wide awake and still tormented by the recurring images of the mad clown.
The League of Assassins' fortress was quiet in the early hours, the halls bathed in the dim glow of torches.
Jason stood at the edge of the main training hall, his muscles tense as he listened to Ra's al Ghul's steady voice. The man had an unnerving ability to command silence without raising his tone, and Jason couldn't help but focus entirely on him.
"You've proven yourself capable in direct combat," Ra's began, pacing slowly. His silhouette moved like a phantom against the flickering torchlight.
"But brute strength and skill with a blade will only take you so far. True power lies in the ability to move unseen, to infiltrate the very heart of your enemy's sanctum without leaving a trace."
Jason straightened, his sharp eyes narrowing.
"Stealth, boy," Ra's continued, his tone like a blade slicing through the air.
"Stealth?" Jason asked with confusion in his tone. "I know nothing about that, you haven't taught me anything about that."
"Stealth is an art which comes to most naturally, but they also undergo training to perfect this art. Tonight, we will see if you have the potential to grasp it."
Jason clenched his fists, nodding silently.
"If you feel backed against a wall or come against am obstacle you can't seem to get by, then think on your feet and take the best course of action your guts tell you to."
Again, he gave no response, just a nod. He didn't need words to prove himself, his actions would speak louder. And hopefully he doesn't screw up and get beaten like a literal thief by those guys.
****
The first part of the lesson was grueling. Ra's led Jason to a secluded part of the fortress—a maze-like area designed specifically for stealth training.
The space was dimly lit, the air damp with the scent of moss and old stone. The walls were lined with narrow ledges and hidden alcoves, while the floor was covered in uneven tiles that creaked if too much weight was applied.
"You are to retrieve an item from the vault at the center of this maze," Ra's instructed, gesturing to a map he had laid out before them. "There will be guards patrolling. They will not go easy on you." His green eyes glinted. "If they catch you, they are instructed to treat you as an intruder."
Jason smirked, the corner of his mouth curling into a cocky grin. "So what's the challenge, old man? Avoid them, grab the thing, and get out?"
Ra's stared at him, unamused. "The challenge, boy, is not to let your arrogance get you killed. Now, go."
Jason's grin faded as he stepped into the maze, the heavy door shutting behind him with a resounding clang.
The silence was oppressive. Jason crouched low, his footsteps feather-light as he moved through the winding corridors.
Every sound, every creak of the floor or drip of water, seemed amplified in the stillness. His senses were on high alert, his breathing slow and measured as he scanned the area for movement.
Ra's had been right: there were guards. They moved in pairs, their footsteps echoing faintly. Jason pressed himself into the shadows, his black tunic blending seamlessly with the darkness.
"Focus," he muttered under his breath. "You've done stuff like this before."
Had he? The thought gnawed at him, a flicker of frustration bubbling up. His memory was still a fragmented puzzle, with pieces that didn't quite fit together.
He knew he had skills—muscle memory that kicked in when he fought or moved—but the origin of those skills was a mystery.
The Lazarus Pit had stolen so much from him, leaving behind a volatile mix of rage and confusion. He clenched his fists, forcing the anger down. Now wasn't the time to lose control.
After navigating several corridors, Jason reached a narrow passageway illuminated by a single torch. A pair of guards stood at the far end, their swords glinting in the light. Jason crouched low, calculating his next move.
Equipped with certain tools Ra's viewed as necessities for the job, he reached into the pouch at his belt, pulling out a small smoke pellet.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent it rolling across the floor. The pellet exploded into a cloud of thick, choking smoke, and the guards coughed, momentarily blinded.
Jason moved swiftly, his steps silent as a whisper. He slipped past them, his heart pounding as he reached the next corridor. He didn't look back.
The vault was ahead. Jason could see the heavy iron door, flanked by two more guards. But this time, there was no cover, no dark areas to hide in, no corners to slip around.
He crouched behind a stone pillar, his mind racing. How was he going to get past them?
The bloodlust stirred, a dark voice in the back of his mind. 'Take them out. They're in your way. Just a quick strike, silent and clean.'
Jason clenched his jaw, gripping the pillar so hard his knuckles turned white. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not like that."
But the urge was overwhelming. The Lazarus Pit had left him with a hunger for violence, a need that clawed at him in moments like this. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"Focus," he whispered. "You're not a killer."
The tension in his chest eased as he formulated a plan. He reached into his pouch again, pulling out a vial of sleeping powder—a gift from Talia.
With careful precision, he uncorked the vial and blew the powder toward the guards. The fine dust spread quickly, carried by an almost imperceptible draft. Within moments, the guards swayed, their movements sluggish before they crumpled to the ground.
Jason moved swiftly, his heart hammering as he reached the vault door. He examined the lock—a complex mechanism with multiple tumblers.
"Of course it's not simple," he muttered, pulling out the lock-picking tools as his mind flashes to when Ra's had included them in his pouch.
"I don't have the faintest idea on how to pick a lock." He had protested, but was shut down with a single reply from Ra's.
"Figure it out."
"Like hell am I supposed to figure this out?" He muttered, drawn back to his current situation as he began sticking a tool into the look.
The process was painstaking, every click of the tumblers echoing in the silent corridor. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he worked, his hands steady despite the pressure. Finally, with a soft click, the lock gave way.
The door creaked open, revealing a small, ornate chest on a pedestal. Jason stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for traps. Satisfied it was safe, he lifted the chest and opened it, revealing the scroll Ra's had sent him to retrieve.
The journey back was just as tense. Jason retraced his steps, careful to avoid the guards who were still patrolling. By the time he reached the entrance, his body was aching, his leg muscles screaming for rest from crouching all night long.
Ra's was waiting for him, his expression unreadable. He held out a hand, and Jason placed the scroll into his palm.
"You succeeded," Ra's said, his tone neutral. "But you were sloppy."
Jason scowled. "Sloppy? I got the job done, didn't I?"
Ra's raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You relied too heavily on tools and tricks. A true master of stealth becomes the shadow itself, needing nothing but their own skill."
Jason bit back a retort, his frustration simmering. "I'll do better next time."
"You will," Ra's said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "For now, rest. Tomorrow, we will refine your technique."
Jason nodded, turning to leave. As he walked away, the bloodlust stirred again, whispering dark irresistible gory thoughts in the back of his mind. He clenched his fists, determined to keep it at bay.
'One step at a time.' He thought. One step at a time.
****
The chamber was dimly lit, its only illumination coming from torches mounted along the cold, stone walls.
The faint scent of aged parchment and sandalwood hung in the air, mingling with the occasional metallic tang of blood from the training grounds below. In the center of the room stood a large sand table, its surface intricately designed to resemble a battlefield.
Miniature structures, trees, and soldiers were carefully placed to simulate the terrain of a besieged fortress.
Ra's al Ghul stood at the head of the table, his posture as commanding as ever. His long, dark cloak swept the floor, and his hands were clasped behind his back as he studied the scene before him.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to pierce through the very walls of the room. Across from him stood Jason, his stance less composed but no less determined. Jason's arms were crossed, and his brow furrowed as he examined the sand table with intense focus.
"To conquer an enemy," Ra's began, his voice low and measured, "you must first conquer your own impatience."
Jason's gaze snapped to Ra's, and he tilted his head slightly. "Impatience isn't the problem," he said. "It's hesitation that gets people killed."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Ra's mouth. "Spoken like a warrior, not a leader," he replied. "Hesitation has its place, Jason. The key is knowing when to act and when to wait."
Ra's gestured toward the sand table. "Now," he said, his tone shifting into one of instruction, "imagine this: You are the commander of a small force tasked with taking this fortress." He pointed to the miniature stronghold in the center of the table. "Your resources are limited, your men are weary, and the enemy is fortified. Tell me, how would you proceed?"
Jason leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he studied the layout. The fortress was surrounded by steep cliffs on three sides, with a narrow valley leading to the main gate. Small figurines representing enemy forces were positioned strategically along the walls and surrounding terrain.
He traced the valley with his finger, then tapped the gate. "The valley is a death trap," he said. "If we try a frontal assault, we'll be picked off before we even get close."
Ra's nodded approvingly. "Good. You recognize the obvious. Now, look deeper. What is the enemy's greatest strength?"
Jason's eyes flicked over the scene, taking in the placement of the soldiers, the height of the walls, and the natural barriers. "Their position," he said. "They don't need to move; we have to come to them."
"Correct," Ra's said. "And their greatest weakness?"
Jason frowned, his mind racing. After a moment, he pointed to the fortress itself. "Their reliance on this position. They think it makes them untouchable, which means they won't expect an attack from an unexpected angle."
Ra's smile widened, and he leaned forward slightly. "Now you're thinking like a tactician." He motioned for Jason to continue.
Jason straightened, his voice gaining confidence. "We'll send a small diversionary force to the valley—just enough to keep their attention focused on the main gate. Meanwhile, we'll scale the cliffs under cover of night, hitting them from behind when they least expect it."
Ra's raised an eyebrow. "A bold strategy. And what of your men? Scaling those cliffs will cost lives."
Jason's jaw tightened. "I know. But we'll lose more if we take the valley head-on. Sacrifices have to be made."
For a moment, the room was silent, save for the crackling of the torches. Ra's studied Jason intently, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke.
"And there lies the essence of leadership," he said. "The willingness to sacrifice for the greater good."
Jason met Ra's gaze, his blue eyes steady but shadowed. "What if you're wrong? What if the sacrifices you make aren't worth it in the end?"
Ra's stepped around the table, his hands clasped behind his back. "Leadership is not about certainty, Jason. It is about conviction. The path you choose will not always be the right one, but it must be the one you believe in."
He paused, standing beside Jason now. "To lead is to carry the weight of every life lost under your command. It is a burden that will never leave you, but it is also what will strengthen your resolve."
Jason's gaze dropped to the sand table, his mind replaying the scenario. He could see the bodies of the imaginary soldiers in his head, hear their screams as they fell from the cliffs or were cut down in the valley. He clenched his fists, the weight of Ra's words settling heavily on his shoulders.
"Conviction," Jason murmured, almost to himself.
Ra's placed a hand on Jason's shoulder, his grip firm. "You have the potential to be a great leader, Jason. But potential means nothing without discipline and foresight. Continue to hone your mind as you do your body, and you will surpass even the greatest of warriors."
Jason looked up at Ra's, his expression a mixture of determination and uncertainty. "And if I fail?"
Ra's smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with something that could almost be mistaken for pride. "Then you will learn. Failure is the crucible through which greatness is forged. Never fear it, but never accept it."
Jason nodded slowly, the words sinking in. "Understood."
Ra's stepped back, his gaze returning to the sand table. "Good. Now, let us discuss the finer points of your strategy. The cliffs are a viable approach, but have you considered the possibility of undermining the fortress walls?"
Jason's head tilted, intrigued. "Undermining? Like digging?"
"Precisely," Ra's said, a faint smile playing at his lips. "A patient assault can be far deadlier than a hasty one. Let me show you how."
For hours, they worked together, refining strategies and discussing the delicate balance of sacrifice and success. Ra's spoke of historical battles, of leaders who had risen and fallen, each story laced with philosophical musings on the nature of power and responsibility.
The torches burned low, and the chill of night seeped into the room, but neither man noticed. For Jason, this was more than a lesson in tactics, it was a lesson in who he was becoming. And though the path before him was uncertain, one thing was clear: he would not walk it blindly.
The chill in the chamber deepened, but Jason barely felt it. The intensity of Ra's lectures and the sheer weight of the scenarios they analyzed consumed every ounce of his focus.
Ra's moved around the sand table with an almost predatory grace, his hands gesturing fluidly as he spoke of deception, patience, and the art of turning an enemy's strength into their greatest weakness.
"Digging under the fortress walls could take weeks," Jason said, his voice laced with skepticism as he traced the perimeter of the sand-table fortress with his finger. "What if the enemy catches on? What if they counter with an ambush?"
Ra's smiled knowingly, his green eyes gleaming in the torchlight. "That, my dear pupil, is the beauty of misdirection. While they focus their attention on the valley or the cliffs, they will not suspect what lies beneath their very feet. But the success of such a plan depends on one thing."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
Ra's leaned closer, his tone almost conspiratorial. "Time. You must master the ability to bide your time, to manipulate your enemy into giving you the space you need to execute your plans."
Jason frowned, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Patience isn't exactly my strong suit."
Ra's chuckled softly, a sound that was both amused and faintly condescending. "Yes, I've noticed. But patience is not merely waiting, boy. It is action restrained.
It is knowing when to strike and when to hold back, even if every fiber of your being screams for immediate action."
Jason's jaw clenched as he mulled over Ra's words. They struck a nerve, a reminder of all the times his impulsiveness had led him astray.
But there was something else beneath the surface, a hunger to prove himself, to master not just his physical skills but the mental fortitude Ra's spoke of so often.
"Alright," Jason said finally, his voice firm. "Let's say we go with the digging plan. How do we keep the enemy distracted for long enough?"
Ra's gestured to a small cluster of figurines positioned near the valley. "You create chaos where they least expect it. Perhaps a decoy force raids their supply lines or sets fire to their farmlands. These small acts of aggression will force them to divide their attention and their forces. The more distracted they become, the less likely they are to notice what is truly happening."
Jason nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with possibilities. "So we keep them busy, whittle them down, and then hit them when they're weakest."
"Precisely," Ra's said, his tone approving. "And when the moment comes to strike, you must do so with absolute conviction. A half-hearted attack is a failure before it even begins."
The two fell into a rhythm, exchanging ideas and refining the strategy further. Jason found himself drawn to the intricacies of planning, the way every piece of the puzzle had to fit together perfectly to ensure victory. It was like a deadly game of chess, and for the first time, he felt like he was beginning to understand the rules.
As the hours wore on, Jason leaned back from the table, his arms crossed over his chest. "So that's it, then. Keep them distracted, dig under the walls, and hit them when they least expect it."
Ra's inclined his head. "In theory, yes. But theory and practice are two very different things. Which is why your next task will be to implement this strategy in the field."
Jason straightened, his interest piqued. "You mean... a real mission?"
"Indeed," Ra's said, his gaze piercing. "There is a village to the east, currently occupied by a rival faction. They have fortified their position and taken the local populace hostage. Your task will be to liberate the village using the tactics we've discussed tonight."
Jason's pulse quickened. This was no mere exercise, this was a chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just the zombie–boy fighter. "When do I leave?"
Ra's smiled faintly. "At dawn. You will have a small force at your disposal, and I expect a full report upon your return."
Jason nodded, determination burning in his eyes. "I won't let you down."
Ra's stepped closer, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Remember, boy—this is not just about winning. It is about understanding the cost of victory. Every decision you make will shape the lives of those who follow you. Lead wisely."
Jason met Ra's gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. "I'll keep that in mind."
As Jason turned to leave, Ra's watched him go, a flicker of something resembling pride crossing his face. The boy was raw, untamed, but there was greatness in him—a potential that, if properly cultivated, could positively influence the course of the League's destiny.
The torches cast long shadows across the chamber as Ra's returned to the sand table, his mind already turning to the future. Jason was more than just a pupil. He was a weapon in the making, one that could one day rival even the greatest warriors of the League. But for now, the boy still had much to learn.
And Ra's al Ghul would ensure he learned it well.