Profession

The mission

I grabbed my communicator and immediately sent my condolences to Diana. She'd be busy and hit by the loss, which was both her king and her father. Then I texted Jones; it would still take awhile, but I expected that he'd get back to me sooner.

I heard sound from downstairs and knew that Jon was home, so I turned off my screen and went down to greet him. "What's the matter, honey?" he asked after my hug and kiss.

"The king of Great Britain is dead. Assassinated."

"Oh, no," he said, aghast. "I'll text Andrew." We went into the game room and turned on the big screen. As expected, it was the major story of the day; there wasn't much known about it and reporters were interviewing the Briton on the street when they weren't trying to get information out of the government or speculating. I hated that; I wanted hard news, not somebody's interpretation about what had happened, who was responsible, or why. James IX had been a popular king. Governments around the world were expressing their sshock and condolences to the family, but nothing substantive was being released by the British.

We took a break for dinner; John was also somber. He had friends from Oxford in government too, and reported that everybody was in shock and mourning. We ate quickly, and John came in to watch some of the coverage with us after he'd tidied up.

To my great surprise, the first person I heard from over there wasn't Diana or Jones. "Prince Crispin," I said, startled, when I recognized his voice. "Please accept my most sincere sympathy for the loss of your father the king."

"Thanks, Lys," he said, subdued. "I appreciate that. But I'm calling for a purpose. It's not officially sanctioned. I think you know that I'm the Crown liaison with the intelligence services."

"Yes, I remember that," I said.

"That includes military intelligence. Which includes MI-13."

"Oh." Ew.

"Yes. I've been given to understand that your encounters with agents from 13 have not been happy ones, but I'm sure you understand its importance."

"Yes."

"It was brought up to King James by the American ambassador, at the prodding of Tony Stark, that you were being harassed by one of the agents, and the king told 13 to back off. I think that they have. However, we have reason to believe that the Demon's Fist is involved in the assassination. I know it's a great deal to ask, but I would like to request the involvement of you and your grandfather, Damian Wayne, in the investigation. Your role would, of course, be kept from the public. And it would put you over here for the funeral. I think it would be nice for my sister to have your support during that time. In exchange for your help, I'd make sure that you and your husband receive invitations for Di's coronation. She'd invite you anyway, but there are some advantages to being on the government list."

"I'll talk to my grandpa," I said. How could I not? Assassination was so disruptive, and if there was something I could do, I felt like I had to do it. Today, the British king, tomorrow the US president. Or Diana. Or any other world leader. The media was saying we were living in a new age of assassination, and it had to stop. Then I explained Crispin's request to Jon, who nodded. He understood without explanation that desire to help where you can. So I called my grandpa and relayed the request.

"Well, if the Fist is resurgent, I have the obligation to shut it down," he said after a moment. "Somebody looks to be piggybacking on the legacy of Ra's, and that won't do. They may be trying to resurrect the League of Assassins too, and that's no good either. Ok, Buttercup, I'm in. I'll talk to Father, wring every bit of information out of him before we go."