Depth_
patreon
Chapter 16 - Speaking of the Future
🕑 Added 2025-06-16 16:07:00 +0000 UTCThe ride to the Hall of Justice was a cold interrogative one where Raven gave clear and concise answers to whatever Batman and Nightwing asked.
She could tell that neither of them fully trusted her, more so Batman than Nightwing. While the younger crusader appeared more understanding and sympathetic, Raven could tell that other than the smidgen of benefits of doubt, he was secretly keeping an analyzing eye on her behind his soft smile and softer words.
She really didn’t care. They were willing to listen to her and verify her words and would be inclined to help her if her words were true, that much she could tell and that was all that she needed. They were already doing far more than anyone else.
It would have been even better if he had been here.
The thought came in through the slips and she was forced to strangle it out when she realized what it was. She cursed herself once more as she did.
She tried not to think about it, even going as far as to regulate her mind with some breathing exercises – something that instantly put her under intense focus from the two heroes, not that she cared – but those particular thoughts still found ways of slipping through her defences.
She knew she absolutely couldn’t entertain them at any cost. They weren’t just thoughts slipping through. They were waves from certain emotional aspects that Raven kept under locks in the depths of her mind. And the last thing she wanted to deal with at the moment was her own emotional masks.
In the end, he left just like the others. Just like everyone.
She clamped down on that traitorous thought with her full focus that the air around thrummed, further alerting the heroes.
“I’m sorry about that.” She apologized.
“Um, don’t worry about it. But, uh, mind telling us what just happened?” Nightwing walked closer with concern on his face.
So he said but caution and distrust towards her increased. Well he did feel a bit concerned about her so maybe that was a plus.
“Bad thoughts.” It was such a simple reply and she saw how it left him stumped for a brief second before he recovered himself. He was a great actor, she thought, better than his teacher who sat in the pilot seat.
That was a bit wrong. She looked at Batman and concluded that yes, Nightwing was the better actor, but also because Batman didn’t bother to act. He just kept everything under a deathly neutral expression.
“Were you thinking about him?” She looked at Nightwing who sat on the seat in front of her and turned it around so that they were facing each other. “Taro, I mean.”
She let the returning silence stretch for more than a few seconds before she opened her mouth to speak.
“Not necessarily. It was a more unpleasant thought.”
Nightwing really had no idea on how to carry on the conversation with their pale-skinned temporary ward. It was like he was speaking to a pale-white blackboard.
‘That’s a little too harsh.’ He thought to himself while outwardly chuckling. She was emotionally stunted, too much so that it was jarring. He was sure Bruce had instantly noticed. He had some...experience on that angle.
He caught Bruce’s signal and calmly extracted himself from her and went over to Bruce’s side where said man discreetly pointed at a screen where the public profile of one ‘Taro Sakamoto’ had been pulled up.
Along with the information was a little note from Barbara.
Are you sure this is your guy?—
He took a few seconds to skim through it and instantly understood why Barbara had attached that note even as a joke.
The public information screamed normal citizen. It wasn’t overly perfect like some model citizen’s, but there was also no highlight of note. He wasn’t some secretive person as a few retailers from Central Gotham knew him very well.
In fact, the information was too mundane for someone of importance. There was no angle they could dig through.
“At least we got his house address.” He whispered.
“Hrn.” Batman replied. He almost rolled his eyes. Batman couldn’t be more dramatic even if he tried to, Nightwing thought.
On Raven’s end, she was still having an intense internal battle with her thoughts and trying to force them out when she abruptly stopped and looked at the bundle of thoughts wrapped down by her.
“You.” She said dispassionately.
Oh, foolish daughter. You can’t keep me away forever. I am the only one who will remain by your side.
The thought in her hands and in her head disgusted her that she hurled it down.
Oh? Was that in anger or in fear, daughter?
The fact that Trigon had found a way to hide his voice behind her thoughts was concerning. Bare thoughts could sway people and a demonic being like Trigon, hiding his voice behind her thoughts, could slowly influence her mind without her knowing.
He left you in the end, just like I said he would. What? You thought he was what? A friend? A guardian? That you were some defunct family, and he was what? Your father? Hahahahahaha!
“Shut up.” She said calmly but the thought laughed louder in her head. It was trying to get inside her head, she knew, but she wouldn’t give it that pleasure.
You thought he wanted a daughter in you? How delusional. Have you ever asked yourself if you deserved a father other than me?
She had. A million times and a million times over. It was a question she kept asking herself at least a dozen times every day ever since that day.
As you saw, he already has someone he sees as a daughter. Why would he want something as dysfunctional as you?
“Are you done?” She asked nonchalantly. “You are crowding my head with your incessant wailing.”
Chains sprang up from the dark below and wrapped around every thought around her and started pulling them down to the pits of her mind.
Her mind finally regained a bit of comforting silence as all her thoughts drowned in a murky black sea. And yet, echoes of words kept ringing in her ears...and subconsciously she clenched her fist.
.
.........
.
On the other side of the globe, Taro was currently faced with the cold stare of an irate child that was garbed in assassins’ getup.
The child must’ve apparently gotten fed up since he rushed at Taro with a short sword in his hand, murder clear in his eyes, and a defiant shout.
Taro wasn’t exactly in the mood for whatever the child was up to as he took a step back from the first swing and then simply caught the kid out of the air the moment he jumped for his follow-up swing.
The kid tried disarming himself from Taro’s hands by swinging his blade at it only to find out that his hand was empty and before he could go for another maneuver, his sleeves were drawn and found themselves tied to a knot behind his back. The same had been done to his pants.
“Untie me right this instant or I’ll have your head.” The kid's mouth was clamped with a cloth but all that did was increase the intense murder in his eyes.
He ignored the warning in those childish eyes and picked up a rope, tied both the kid’s hands and legs on one end and tied the other end to a bar and watched as the kid dangled with great mortification in his eyes.
Having finally gotten rid of the kid, he took a walk around the hall, noting the changes and new position of everything in the hall. He could remember some of the weapons and training dummies but they were few in numbers compared to what was now in the hall.
A slight air draft in the room notified him that someone had silently entered the room and even without turning he could already guess who it was.
“Your talk with father has ended, it seems.” He heard her say as she walked towards where he strung up the boy. Ah, he realized.
“And I see you’ve met my son.”
That got him to turn around and take a closer look at the both of them as Talia cut off the rope and then left him the knife to untie himself.
“I can see the faint resemblance.” He found himself saying. The eyes were there, he admitted to himself.
He wanted to ask who the father was as a reflex of his gentle older man persona but stopped himself when he remembered where he was. He definitely had no right to ask if Talia’s cold eyes were anything to go by.
“Who is this, mother? I want to kill him.” The child spat out bubbling venom rolling off his tongue.
“Meet my son, Damian al Ghul.” She pushed the boy a few steps forward. “Damian, meet my old teacher, Taro Sakamoto. He taught me all I knew in my youth.”
Instead of being pacified, or at least ceasing direct hostilities, the boy’s glare increased.
“So you are the traitor grandfather told me about. Why do you still have your head?”
“Because Ra’s would lose his trying to take mine.” Taro replied candidly, and yup, the glare was kicked up a notch.
“Mother...”
“Be quiet, my dear.” Talia however chided him, albeit softly. Her cold eyes stared dead at Taro. “What are you doing here?”
Taro scratched his head awkwardly. “It’s the only place I could go other than outside, and I doubt I still have my old room back.”
“You don’t.”
“Figured.”
The two of them stood in awkward silence, one where Taro could almost swear that he heard something growling, but then Talia turned to Damian.
“You will continue your training later. Would you excuse us, dear?”
With eyes full of reluctance and natural hate, he slowly carried himself out of the hall and left the both of them to their standoff-stare off.
There were no chairs in the hall, something that still remained so from Taro’s memories, so Taro sat on the ground and gestured for Talia to do the same.
“... I–”
“I don’t need your apologies.” Talia cut him off before he could get his first word out. “I was a young girl with flighty thoughts. There were no mistakes made so there’s nothing to apologize for.”
Taro sighed. He ran his hand through his hair as he suddenly became lost for words. What was he apologising for? What was he hoping his apology would fix?
He looked at Talia in front of him. The woman sitting across him did not look like one that needed a father figure, unlike what her past self must’ve wanted.
What did he even want from her at this point? These were all questions that ate away at any words that came to his tongue.
“How have you been all these years, Talia?” He asked.
She looked at him with one brow raised inquisitively. “By that you must mean these past thirteen years.”
He nodded, prompting her to continue.
“I cried. Every night. For months after you left.” He winced at her brutal words. “‘Master a killing aspect’. That was your last assignment for me, but it was one I couldn’t complete, or even start, in the first five years of your departure. My father’s words forced me to bury any foolish attachments I might have had, and I did.”
The more she spoke the more uncomfortable Taro became. It was like opening a wound he never knew he had. It was both strange and jarring while being hurtful at the same time.
“I focused on my missions and then somewhere along the way I had Damian. I had to divide my time between being his mother and teacher and also advancing on the path I had started walking.”
She sighed. It wasn’t a tired one. It was more like a wistful expression.
“The first few years following Damian’s birth was a hard one for me. Being a mother and an active assassin at the same time was something I had no idea how to juggle but I managed. It was all worth it, and for him I’ll do it all again.”
She looked at him, those cold green eyes staring at him like frozen venom.
“He is my heart and blood. All I am is to become all I can for him.”
They both shared a brief look that Taro ended with an understanding nod. Her saying those words meant a lot and it could be because of Taro’s newfound guilt, his past memories, or the look in her eyes, a few words left Taro’s mouth before his brain could process them.
“If you ever want me to teach him, tell me. It is the least I can do.”
They had once been an intertwined pair – teacher and student – but now they were both strangers to the other with how much they’ve grown, despite having grown in the same direction.
They could no longer have what might have been – it was wishes on the sand at this point – but that did not mean that the bond they once had had to end.
Talia spoke softly, calmly and slowly summarizing her experiences in the last decade to Taro who patiently listened.
“I am glad you never told me back then.” He suddenly said words that surprised Talia, and continued before she could react. “I wouldn’t have understood what you meant and would have forced you to dismiss it.”
He looked at her and smiled. It was such a soft and harmless thing – especially with his features – that it left Talia stunned, who was only seeing such a smile on his face for the first time in her life.
‘It looks familiar.’ She thought to herself. It almost looked like the smile she’d have on some occasions a few years ago when listening to every childish thing Damian had to say. ‘It looks familiar.’ She said to herself.
“I’m more proud of the woman you are right now, than the woman you would have been had I stayed.”
He took off his glasses and looked at her with his grey eyes.
“I make no excuses for my departure, but I’m glad I left when I did. If I hadn’t, I would have become someone I could not be proud of. On your own you trained yourself to stand firm, that is something I would have not been able to teach you. Not to this level at least.”
The embers of his smile still remained as he wore his glasses while looking at Talia whose lips were currently pursed.
She closed her eyes to hide the emotions that were dancing in them and took in a deep breath to calm herself.
“....Thank you.” She muttered with her eyes closed. Her words were so faint that she hardly heard it, but that was no problem for Taro as he had read her lips.
He received her thanks with gratitude and silence.
.
........
.
[Hall of Justice]
A few figures were sat around a large round table and above the table were holographic projections of documents, pictures and reports, all centred around one figure – Raven.
“So you’re telling me, according to her words, that a demonic apocalypse is coming? Does it get more outlandish than this?” The Green Lantern, Hal Jordan’s rhetoric, was met with a serious deliberation.
“So a possible demonic invasion before New Year, that’s a new one.” The Flash remarked drily. He looked utterly drained out and it remained uncertain if it was because of the current deliberation or something else. Nevertheless, it was a rare look for the Flash.
“What do we know about this being called Trigon? Has there been any past contact with it?” Martian Manhunter asked Batman who had brought up the meeting.
Batman shook his head. “Inconclusive as of yet. I’ve sent a message to our magic contacts. I couldn’t reach Zatanna, but I got hold of Constantine and Dr. Fate. They’ll be here soon.”
He waved his hand and the projections flew to the side. “From her own words, apart from her being his daughter, he has conquered millions of worlds and dimensions, including her last one. He now aims for earth and she is the key to doing that.”
“Key? Nah, not key mate. She’s the bloody bridge that’ll open up an express to hell.” Constantine walked in with a swaying swagger to his steps and a half smoked cigarette in his lips.
“You look like you’ve been through hell yourself.” Hal quipped.
Constantine flipped him off. "Piss off, will ya? Hangovers are demonic bloody nuisances, and I’m on a first-name basis with every last one."
He looked at the projections and cursed under his breath. "Yeah, that’s the apocalypse for ya. Knew something was off—sun was out, birds were singin’. Bloody ominous, if you ask me."
Flash snorted.
“What can you tell us about this particular threat, John? You seem to be certain about the impending apocalypse.” Wonder Woman spoke up and drew Constantine’s gaze to her while the Englishman scratched his head in frustration.
“Blind as you are, sweetheart. Only thing I know? His name’s one letter shy of the Devil’s—small ‘d,’ mind you. Even the demons won’t whisper about him, and that? That’s a proper bad sign.”
He read over Batman’s report on Raven’s words and nodded to himself. “Spot on, mate. Death, destruction, subjugation—million bloody worlds burnin’, apocalypse bingo, Armageddon with a side of chips. You’ve got the whole doomsday catalog down pat. But if you’re askin’ for my ‘professional’ opinion? Wrap the bitch in a bow, chuck her into the next dimension over, and pray whatever’s there has a really strong stomach.” He discarded the half cigarette and lit up a new one.
“John!”
“Dude!”
“The hell man?”
The man in question just shrugged and took in a deep drag and blew out the smoke. The smoke formed a globe with cracks on it that soon started spreading until it covered the globe and the globe exploded.
He looked over at Batman who had kept his eyes on him since his arrival.
“Listen up, Batsy—no sugarcoatin’ this. Some things you don’t fight, and he’s top of that list. If the bastard’s set his sights on our mudball, the best we can do is play shell games with the apocalypse. Buy time, redirect attention, maybe trick him into blinkin’—but stop him? Nah. Not a chance in hell. And as long as she’s here? We’re just windin’ the clock. Might stall the hour, but midnight’s comin’. Only question is whether we’re still standin’ when it hits.”
The room fell silent as whatever remains of humour was drained away by Constantine’s words. Just like he said, he gave them his hard truth and they knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking, not about this.
“We don’t trade lives, John.” Superman finally spoke up. “There’s still a lot of things we still don’t know and we’re only looking at the worst case scenario. We’ll speak with her again after we’ve heard from Dr. Fate.”
"Gotta hand it to you, Big Blue—that optimism of yours? Bloody legendary. Shame it burns faster than a sinner in a holy water bath once you’re down in the pit. Hell doesn’t just kill hope, mate—it feasts on it. And you? You’re a walking, talking all-you-can-eat buffet."
He turned around and walked out of the room with his swaying swagger while his last words drifted back to the meeting room.
"If there’s a bottle of whiskey within a ten-mile radius, now’s the time to speak up. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to exorcise this memory the old-fashioned way—with enough cheap scotch to drown a hellhound."
