Ra's Al Ghul watched with a heavy heart as the bandaged creatures struggled amidst the emerald hellfire, their silhouettes dancing in futile agony. They seemed to be around sixteen, young, raw, like his grandson. If they emerged from this torment as prodigies, perhaps they could mentor the boy.
Ra's had decided to keep them away from Gotham for the time's sake, especially for Jason. Guilt gnawed at him like an unquenchable flame, a reminder that he had paved Jason's road to Hell with his own hands.
But he would save him. He believed Jason would be the one to unleash cruel justice into Gotham, an antithesis to his father. Ra's would mold his suffering into the necessary evil to restore the world's glory.
As for the other bandaged figure—Talia and, strangely enough, the Joker, had insisted on their resurrection too. Ra's knew that Talia bore resentment toward him for allowing an innocent child to endure torture, and what pushed her over the edge was another teenager dying because of it. The Joker's motives were unsurprisingly inscrutable; he jeered about symbolism and drama.
Ra's eyed his daughter gaze at the figures wading in the Lazarus Pit.
-
"How long will it take?" she asked, recalling how many times her father had bathed in its neon essence.
"It is uncertain if either of them will return," Ra's replied dryly. "One is merely a cripple, and the other lacks a heart." He stared at the pulsing heart in his hand, its ragged edges struggling to beat, ignited by a dream of a soul.
Talia scoffed, holding a bit of the organ in her hand. "Your heart is made of stone, and yet you've bathed in there countless times. They'll manage." Her gaze softened, her heart aching for Jason—the son of her beloved, broken in ways she wished she could fix.
She had found his crippled body against an alleyway in Gotham. It was a strange and awful site, considering he had a funeral– without his actual body, of course. He was smothered in between a car and a wall, and it looked as though he had just come from a funeral. Well– more like the person the funeral was celebrating. Jason had been dead– for two years. His body was never found. She took a little bit of pride in finding him, although under terrible circumstances. Questions were brought up, did he die twice?
–
Ra's ignored her, his own heart had been crumbling, and it had been melded together too many times. It still beat, though each thud felt hollow against his chest.
The figures slowly became more distinct, their bandages beginning to unravel as they emerged. Jason managed for longer. The other, their eyes covered in bandages, flailed like a storm-battered flag.
–
Jason awoke with his skin ablaze, as though the fires of the underworld had risen from darkness to meet him. Hellfire is green, he thought as the color burned into his memory.
Oddly, the searing pain was not his first concern. Instead, the inept splashing from nearby caught his attention. As blind as he was, the frantic thrashing had further deepened his irritation.
Despite the agony, Jason felt a strength he hadn't known before. Burden has been lifted, replaced by something fierce and unwavering. He raised the other figure onto his back, and for the first time, he felt less like a lost boy and more like a man forged in fire.
–
Ra's summoned his subordinates to attend to the resurrected children. For the first time, he saw the Lazarus Pit's power as something beyond his entitlement—a miracle. Watching two battered souls claw their way out of Hell rebirthed a sense of faith within him.
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Angel Antithesis || REDHOOD
Fanfiction"Robin? What do you mean? Did Robin do this to you?" His eyes lowered once again, as if speaking from a distant dream, "Yes." - The day you found Jason Todd in the basement of the Arkham Asylum, you had had two choices. Were you going to help him, o...
