Don't Fear the Reaper

43) Cliff, I'd Like You to Meet Hanger.

A/N: this one is super short, but I've been spoiling you guy recently so... Also, I kinda posted part of this art earlier, but this is just something a little different. 

Life was empty.

Nico always felt like this after the full strength side effects of the Lazarus Pit had settled into their predictable simmer. The fiery rage from the pit that seemed to itch beneath his skin had quelled to the point that he could nearly forget about it. The sickness that always followed the adrenaline rush of being forced back to life had subsided mostly. He was technically no different now than he was before he ever met the Waynes— just as alive, and just as angry about it.

Time passed and Nico barely processed a second of it. He went on missions, so far lucky enough to avoid another death, and he returned to the al Ghuls. The missions felt like they lasted decades— each second passing like a year as he seemed to watch his actions from the outside of his own body in slow motion— but the time between went by in a blink.

A knock sounded at his door. He was supposed to be resting, but his brain refused any attempts at sleep. It was fine. It was better this way— the less he slept, the more he could attempt to push away the memories that Hypnos seemed dead set on forcing him to rewatch.

He knocked twice.

Talia came into the room, wasting no tame as she approached the bedroll he was sitting on. She laid down the Lazars Suit at his feet— placing it gingerly, as if it were a precious heirloom, rather than the one thing Nico feared more than sleep.

"We need to take precaution for this next mission," Talia said simply.

Nico's mind caught on the way she phrased her statement: 'we', as if she would be doing anything more than telling him the time and place of his next attack. The words may have come from her mouth, but Nico knew that they were straight from Ra's. The man liked to act as if he was something more than a figure head at this point— as if he had killed someone other than his own people in the last 50 years.

"Who?" Nico said quietly as he stood and began putting the uniform on. The pain the garment brought to him wasn't just mental, it was physical. After he had put on all the pieces, he grit his teeth as he pushed a button on the breastplate. All at once, the pieces snapped together, closing in on his body snuggly and burying no less than 10 needles into his flesh at the same time. The Lazarus water had to have a way to get into his system, and apparently they hadn't considered the idea of only making the needles deploy when he needed reviving.

"Anton Thesington," Talia said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall slightly. "A higher up in a human trafficking ring. He'll be in the capital of Croatia for the next hour before he flees across the boarder. I have someone getting you his exact location as we speak."

Nico nodded, opening his mouth to ask when he should expect to leave, but he was cut off by a stabbing pain in his chest that brought him to his knees. He clutched at his heart, though his hand only met the cool metal of the chest plate as he struggled to breathe.

"Damian," he said as he gasped for breath, his eyes wide and wild. He hadn't felt this type of pain in to years.

Talia's practiced look of neutrality shattered in an instant as he hurried to his side, kneeling next to him. "Is he..."

"No," Nico said quietly, forcing his breaths to be normal. "He is still alive, but..."

"Go," Talia instantly said, her eyes fierce with passion. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a back bag, forcing it into his hand. "Save him."

Nico nodded, forcing himself to his feet as he grabbed his sword off the floor by the bedroll. He took a deep breath before pulling his mask up over his nose and stepping into the shadows. 

A/N: hehehehe

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