Electric Flame

2.1

"Congratulations, young one. You have completed your training and earned a place in our league," explained my mentor Talia with pride dripping from her deep green eyes. Her dark brown hair fanned out over her shoulders.

"You have a mission." Her grayed father, Ra's al Ghul, stepped forward with his arms held behind his back. "We will return you to the outside world undercover. You will attend a school where you will meet your target, a threat to our cause. Your job is to terminate him. You have been given a new identity," stated Ra's as he handed me a sun-bleached yellow folder. "Careful not to let your emotions get the best of you. You've trained long and hard for this. Do not let us down."

They gave each other one last glance before exiting the dojo like trained militia. I opened the folder and let my eyes skim the title on the first page.

"Alexis Jones," I read aloud, testing my tongue with the new identity.

I flipped the page to who I assumed would be the target. A ball formed in my throat.

The man was incredibly handsome. A jet black mop of hair rested atop his head, rebellious bangs blending into his dark eyebrows. Crystal blue eyes shimmered between the strands and his strong shoulders were as straight as his ruler-like posture. There was a familiarity about him. He looked so similar to...

"Richard John Grayson," I whispered, gasping as I covered my mouth with one hand and searching the room to see if anyone had heard. I may not be able to see any bodies, but here with the League, there's always lingerers.

Once again, my eyes ran over his features in the photo. He had seriously grown from when I last saw him three years ago. Slight stubble hugged his chin, giving a light gray illusion. Formed cheekbones stood high on either side of his face, and his thick lashes cast shadows across his smooth skin. 

Puberty hit him well. 

Dick was no longer just some want-to-be hero kid. The League of Shadows wanted him dead, which means he meddled with something he shouldn't have. My stomach churned at the thought. He never learned.

My trance was broken by the tight grip of a small boy. "Do you have to leave, (y/n)," asked the ten-year-old who shared the same deep green eyes as his mother. He, too, had jet black hair, nothing close to his mother's chestnut waves. Talia never mentioned his father, so I never gave it a second thought until now.

I bent down on one knee to eye level. "Yes, Damian." I hugged him tightly like a teddy bear, not wanting to let go of my best friend. We both did some growing up here, together, and the memories would forever be in my mind. Damian was my little angry ninja brother.

Talia returned for Damian. "You two have long journeys ahead. Are you both ready?"

I nodded confidently. "When do we begin?

"Now."

Gotham.

That single word can describe so many things. To some, it's home. To others, it's a prison. For me, well, I was yet to decide which one best fit.

An overbearing darkness hovered above the city as the clouds grew heavier. Humid precipitation washed the littered sidewalks and alarmed cars sitting broken in random alleys. Thugs danced in the shadows, and no one dared to leave their homes this late. Yet, strangely, a part of me felt at ease, as if I never left.

Dick took night classes, which meant I now do, too. Apparently, he moved out a while ago to a sister city called Bludhaven. I'd never heard of it until now, but before the incident three years ago, I'd never really left Catwoman's side.

Talia insisted I don't refer to her as anything attached like mom or mother, or even her name, but instead as her anti-hero title. She said that's the easiest way to skip to the last stage in grief, to forget.