"I'm applying for a transfer. Effective immediately."
"It's impossible to live like this. You never know what's been mixed into the food."
"As long as Alan is at this base, I refuse to stay another day."
"The two of you must give us a solution! Otherwise, we'll all abandon the League!"
A furious crowd of assassins surrounded Talia and Nyssa, their voices a chorus of complaint. The spirited young man they had once seen as a mere nuisance had become an unbearable plague. Mealtimes were a gamble, and trips to the latrine were fraught with peril. If they thought they could actually defeat him in a fight, they would have swarmed him days ago and beaten him into a pulp.
Seeing the situation spiraling into a full-blown mutiny, Talia held up her hands to placate the mob. "Everyone, please, be quiet. We understand. We will give you an explanation, I promise."
This problem had to be solved. There was no telling when their father would return. If he came back to find the base deserted, the consequences would be severe. Their very right to inherit the League of Assassins was at stake.
Compared to that, dealing with Alan was a trivial matter, something that would earn them a symbolic scolding at worst.
And so, the two rival sisters, for the first time in their lives, reached a rare and unspoken accord. A temporary and deadly cooperation.
As night fell over the fortress, the lights were extinguished, and a heavy silence settled over the snow-capped peaks. In the oppressive darkness, two shadows crept through the corridors, moving with silent purpose toward Alan's room.
They slipped through the door and tiptoed to the bed. Moonlight, filtering through the small window, cast a pale glow on the distinct, human-shaped lump under the covers.
"Go!"
Shing!
The sound of steel whispering from its sheath was sharp in the quiet room. The swords rose and fell, glinting in the moonlight as they sliced through the bulging quilt again and again. Goose down exploded into the air, dancing like frantic snowflakes.
They stabbed and slashed, venting all the pent-up frustration of the past weeks. The fear, the sleepless nights, the constant, nerve-shredding anxiety—it all poured out with every strike. A cruel, triumphant smile spread across both their faces. The sweet release of vengeance was intoxicating.
But as they continued their frenzied attack, a strange feeling began to creep in. Something was wrong.
They were not alone.
There was someone else in the room, hacking away at the quilt with the same ferocious energy.
Shouldn't they be the only assassins here? Had someone else joined their plot?
They both froze, their swords held mid-swing, and turned to stare at the third person. In the pale moonlight, his profile was unmistakable.
Hiss…
It was Alan.
"Why'd you stop?" Alan asked, his voice full of genuine confusion. "What's this game? Can I play, too?"
Are you sick? the sisters thought in unison. We're here to assassinate you! If you're with us, who are we supposed to kill?
Nyssa's mouth twitched. "Shouldn't you be in the bed… sleeping?"
"Who says you have to sleep in a bed?"
He had a point. There was no rule. And considering Alan's profoundly abnormal behavior, it was entirely plausible he would do something so contrary to common sense.
"Ohhh," Alan said, a look of sudden realization dawning on his face. "You two bad girls are here to kill me."
The next moment, the cold, sharp edges of two swords were pressed against their necks. He had moved so fast they hadn't even had time to react.
"Calm down!" Nyssa explained, her voice tight with panic. "We were just joking."
"Yes, Alan, we just wanted to play a game with you," Talia quickly added.
Their sneak attack had failed, and he had turned the tables on them completely. If this got out, they would be a laughingstock. Their father would not avenge them; he would be utterly humiliated. While the Lazarus Pit could resurrect them, the Blade of Redemption was lost. A forced resurrection without it would likely turn them into bloodthirsty monsters. It was not a risk they were willing to take.
"Take off your clothes," Alan said, a strange cackle escaping his lips. "Hehehe…"
The sisters exchanged a look of horror and confusion. Had the fool finally snapped in a different direction? Was he actually making a move on them?
A short time later, Talia and Nyssa walked out of the room wrapped in bedsheets, their faces a mixture of profound relief and a small, inexplicable hint of disappointment. A madman was a madman. His logic was not for ordinary people to understand.
Inside the room, Alan was prancing about in one of their female warrior uniforms, dancing a wild, nonsensical jig and singing happily to himself. What bad intentions could he possibly have? He was simply lost in his own bizarre world.
***
A helicopter descended through the swirling snow, hovering over the fortress as three figures rappelled to the ground. The members of the base, tears welling in their eyes, rushed out to greet the return of their master. The past month had felt like a year.
Ra's al Ghul had returned, and with him were two young men from the future: Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen.
"Father, you're finally back!"
"Welcome home, Father."
Nyssa and Talia led the welcoming party, their expressions urgent. They were desperate to report the recent events, but they couldn't risk Alan overhearing.
"Boss, you're back!"
A figure swung through the air on a rope claw, landing deftly in front of the group. It was Alan.
Seeing him, Ra's al Ghul's brow furrowed. How is this man still here? And where did he learn to use a zipline?
Bruce and Oliver, their faces still holding the sharp, angular features of youth, stared at the strange man with open curiosity. In the League of Assassins, everyone respectfully addressed Ra's al Ghul as Master or Father. To hear him called "boss" was jarringly out of place.
Ra's subconsciously ignored Alan, not wanting his mood to be ruined the moment he returned.
"Alan, what's for dinner tonight?" Nyssa asked suddenly, seizing an opportunity to send him away so they could speak freely.
"Don't panic," Alan announced proudly. "I've watched every cooking show in existence. I can turn a pile of dung into a delicacy. Just sit back and enjoy the feast."
With that, he swung away on his zipline and disappeared into the base.
Once he was gone, Nyssa recounted every last detail of the past month's bitter hardships. The more Ra's al Ghul listened, the more the veins on his forehead bulged. He was now absolutely certain: this man could not be allowed to stay. If he let this continue, the entire snow mountain base would be torn apart from the inside.
"The four-party summit is imminent," Ra's said, a thoughtful, cunning look in his eyes. "Let Alan represent the League of Assassins. Send him to Silent Hill to retrieve the Blade of Redemption."
Everyone present immediately understood their master's intention. Given Alan's personality, he would undoubtedly offend the other three factions. At that point, the League would unilaterally sever all ties with him, leaving the other powers to deal with their mutual problem. It was a shrewd, ruthless plan. The four powers were allies in name only; in reality, they were all rivals. As for the Blade of Redemption, Ra's didn't mind retrieving it himself later.
"Who will go with him?" Ra's asked, his gaze sweeping over the assembled assassins.
In perfect, unified silence, everyone took a single step backward. They wanted to be as far from Alan as possible. Who would willingly walk into a den of lions with a madman, knowing the other factions might simply kill everyone in his entourage out of sheer frustration?
Bruce and Oliver looked around in confusion. A perfect circle of empty space had formed around them, isolating them from the rest of the group. They had a very bad feeling about this.
Ra's al Ghul did not give them a chance to object. He placed a heavy hand on each of their shoulders, his voice ringing with righteous conviction. "I am very pleased that you are willing to undertake this journey. I hope you return safely. The organization will not forget your contribution."
Bruce: "…"
Oliver: "…"
***********
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