Nayra Wayne

The penthouse of the Gotham City, Four Seasons was silent when the woman entered it, the only sound the clicking of her heals as she approached the spectacle in the center of the room. The table had been set for two, a lavish spread of food and wine she knew cost more than the rooms reservation itself sat on its polished wooden surface. But she cared not for the display of wealth and refined taste that sat on its top, for the man she had come to see was the only thing she held in her gaze. He was aging, his once black beard and hair specked now with grey that gave him the air of wisdom that came with age. He was not seated, but instead stood looking out over the city from the window. ❛Ras❜ She announced and he turned around with a smile on his aged face, holding his hands out to take hers. If he wasn’t the head of the League he might have been a friendly face, she might have smiled in return but those dark eyes glinted with something that left her and everyone else feeling unsettled. _❛Welcome Miss Wayne, thank you for accepting my invitation─❜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❛─Its been so long since we last spoke, ❜ This time the table was set again for two, but the chairs were far closer together. In the privet study of the great Ra’s Al Ghoul. The Wayne entered silently and the Demons’ head rose from his place to great her, taking her hand between two of his own and guiding her to her spot at the table. ❛Thank you for the invitation❜ She responded and he smiled waving the action away with a heavily ringed finger. As if it were completely natural for the head of the League off assassins to ask the protege of the Green Arrow and Batman to dinner without prior interaction with her. The blue eyed Wayne ❛Although I have to ask─❜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❛─Why did you invite me here Ras?❜ ❛I heard about what happened with you and Mr. Wilson And I wanted to express my condolences to you and your family. It is terrible what that made did to you. I heard you bested my grandson ❜ His tone was sincere but all the same the subject mater brought a foul taste to her mouth. It had been less than two months since the incident and she still had not recovered, physically she was fine. Dick had restrained her put her in a headlock until she passed out. She’d been fine the next day, but mentally- she wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same. She’d turned against her family. How did one come back from that? Ra’s read the distress in the lines on her face and gestured for her to take her seat, pouring eat of them a glass of wine and handing it to her as he got ready to speak. ❛I did not mean to cause you any distress Miss Wayne I simply wanted to express my condolences and offer you a proposition. I have been watching you for a while now─❜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❛─And I believe that what I saw in you originally is true. You have great potential and I have come to a conclusion.❜ The man paused, he had not sat down but instead stood with his hands locked behind his back as he stared out over the view from his window. Mountains rose in the background and even in the golden sunset the buildings of the assassin’s training grounds were visible, bathed in that fiery glow.  ❛I believe your time at Nanda Parbat is over, you have trained harder than most would ever dream possible and I know from the look in your eyes you have found what you sought in yourself.❜ ❛And I have found what I was searching for in you. Nayra I─❜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❛─ Want you to except my invitation to train with us, you would not be a member of the League but you would train from the best, learn to harness what Mr Wilson has given you and find time to return to yourself outside of what Mr Wayne believes you to be.❜ The older man paused and held her gaze as he took a sip of the wine, she was worried. Worried by the look on his face, she could see him plotting behind his eyes and she knew the man would never do anything that did not interest him yet his words were oddly calming. ❛You want me to leave Gotham─ to leave my family and go with you to Nanda Parbat?❜ ❛I know you love your family, and they love you. But you need to learn who you are with out them. Should you come with me I can give you that freedom. Come with me and leave what Mr. Wilson said behind you.❜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❛I told you this once before sometimes you need a chance to step out of the shadow of those around you to truly embrace who you were meant to be.❜ Ras had still not turned around but she could see him watching her in the reflection off the mirror, and she stood feeling this time as though what he would say would cary as much weight as the first time they spoke. ❛And you have done beautifully here, I do not believe there is a soul on this mountain you could not face admirably.❜ ❛Thank you Ras.❜ Despite her hesitation the Wayne could not help but feel as swell of pride at his words. And a smirk formed on her face because of it. ❛I want you to take my place as Head of the Demon.❜ Nayra stared at the man in shock, this time not caring that it showed on her face as he turned to face her. ❛You want me to take your place?❜ She asked. ❛You are far beyond the teachings of a dear Vigilante, you would be wasted on the streets Miss Wayne. Slade saw in you what your cousin can not- I want you to realize your full potential. I want you to be who you were born to be. So what say you? Will you accept my offer, and become the next Head of the Demon and take my place?❜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ❛Yes I accept.❜

➵ Nayra has her own wealth that she inherited from her father upon her 18th birthday making her completely financially independent from her cousin. ➵ She loves to ice skate, its something her mother taught her when she was younger and had her life not changed so drastically she might have even competed on a professional level ➵ While Dick is her favorite brother, Jason has always been the one she connected with more. Some of her happiest childhood memories are the two of them before his death. ➵ Jason was the first person to teach her how to ride a motorcycle. ➵ Despite her own financial resources Nayra joined Wayne Enterprises at the age of twenty, taking up the role of Head of Wayne Enterprises International Relations. It gives her a chance to build her own name as well as travel, letting her deal with threats outside of Gotham.   ➵ Nayra specializes in languages, having been raised to speak English and Mandarin fluently, the academy in Star City that she attended as a teenager had a strong focus on languages helping her not only speak multiple fluently but also giving her the core structure needed to understand even more ➵ She's always had a dark side to her, and if it was't for her family likely would have taken up Ras offer ➵ On bad days she regrets not taking it. ➵ She's spent a lot of money trying to help rehabilitate the criminals in Gotham. ➵ She wants to be better than Batman. And will do damn well anything to prove she is. ➵ For a long time she was angry that Damian was alive, she wanted to be the sole heir to her cousin. She's since grown out of it, but always felt betrayed. ➵ She prefers Star City to Gotham. ➵ She is a diehard fangirl of Black Canary and chose the vigilante name Swift in honor of her. ➵ She wishes she was closer with Emiko ➵ She can't remember her parents faces or their voices, instead when she thinks of them she can only remember Oliver and Dinah. ➵ Although she's never been asked Nayra would willingly help raise Lian Harper as though she was family. ➵ She truly loves Roy Harper, so much so that it hurts. 

❝Sweet sixteen and you’re standing on the edge You’re already condemned You’re screaming on the ledge, hands out stretched Towards the pain that never ends. Its all inside your head, Sweet sixteen and your hands are bruised and beaten You did it to yourself Your head hangs defeated Your standing on the edge You’re crying and you’re pleading Everyone one knows There’s no hope for the life you’re leading. Sweet sixteen and you’re never going to die You gotta make sure no one saw you cry Lift up your head and wipe away your eyes Head up darlin to the horror in of your lies Sweet sixteen and you’re gonna prove them wrong Because you’ve come to far to be anything but strong❞

❝I told him that I loved him, but I didn’t love his addiction. He’s struggled for as long as I have known him yet I know he’s stronger than it. He told me he loved me, he told me he was clean. But that night, when I looked him in the eyes I knew it had been a lie. I remember the way my stomach dropped, and my hand slipped away from his cheek. He didn’t even say sorry─ he denied it. ❛I’m clean. I’m clean N.❜ He’d told me his voice slurred, and I almost believed him. He was lying to my face, his eyes, those brilliant green eyes that I feel in love with, far to wide. Gods he was high. And he was lying to my face. ❛You fucking─❜ I remember how my voice broke in my throat unable to bridge the gap to my mouth. The way my vision was blurred by what I first through were tears- but was really anger. ❛You fucking asshole❜ My fist hit his chest, there was no strength behind it, only anger and betrayal. My Roy, my Roy who had promised he was getting better, who had promised me he was stronger than this- who promised he was getting better. My Roy and here he stood before me, his words slurred as he continued ❛I’m clean. I’m clean. Nayra baby, I’m clean.❜ ❛Show me your arm.❜ I had said, my voice as watery as my eyes. ❛Naaay I’m clean❜ ❛Show me your fucking arm❜ He hadn’t moved and so I shoved his sleeve up myself. Shoved his sleeve up and saw the truth for myself. The band marks on his forearm, the needle mark that marred his perfect skin. ❛You liar❜ I had hissed and he brought his hand up to my face. ❛I’m clean.❜ He’ continued to promise, stroking my head like he liked to do. Playing with my hair and whipping the tears from my eyes. ❛Why are you crying? I’m clean.❜ As if I would believe him, as if I could believe him. He leaned his head down, trying to kiss me. ❛Don’t touch me.❜ I’d snapped and pushed him away, he stumbled backwards, falling onto the couch. ❛Nay─❜ ❛You promised! You promised me.❜ I had sobbed, but I wasn’t sad, I was angry. I was livid. All those moments between us, just us in the comfort of our own skins. All those moments where he had promised to be clean. His voice against my throat, his hands on my body, those promises had been sacred. Made at our most tender times. And they had all been lies. ❛Where’d you get it? Who’d you buy from? Was it Black Mask? The Falcone’s?❜ But he didn’t answer. He couldn’t he was high as a fucking kite and just sitting there staring at me. ❛Where’d you get the money? Was it Jay? Did Jason give you the cash? Did you sell something/ What’d you sell? Your bow? Was it something of mine?❜ He was still staring at me. Staring at me like I didn’t know he was lying. ❛How dare you Roy Harper. You promised me. You promised me you’d stay clean. I─ I believed you. I trusted you❜ That seemed to sober him up. Slowly he sat up, the color draining from his face. ❛Nayra- Nayra I’m sorry❜ ❛No you’re not.❜ He looked at me, and God─ I knew he was sorry. I could see it in his eyes and yet, it only made me more angry. ❛N- it wont happen again.❜ ❛Bullshit. Thats what you said last time.❜ I screamed and turned away from him, I couldn’t look at him. Not like that. Struggling to hold on to some grasp on reality. ❛Nayra- I promise-❜ He stood up, his hand on my shoulder trying to turn me back towards him. ❛No Roy.❜ My fingers found his hand, but I didn’t hold it. I couldn’t hold it. Instead I pushed it away. ❛I can’t do this anymore. I cant.❜ My voice was shaking, words I never thought I would say to him. ❛I love you Roy Harper. But I can’t keep doing this.❜ ❛Nayra-❜ ❛Get out.❜ ❛What?❜ ❛Get out of my house.❜ I could hear the shock in his voice. I could hear the disregard. ❛You don’t mean that.❜ ❛No I do. I can’t love you like this.❜ He was silent for a long moment, he wanted me to turn around. To turn around and forgive him, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t forgive him. Not again. ❛Nayra─ What can I do to fix this?❜ He finally said and I could still hear the slur in his words. God he was so good at hiding it. And I was so good as seeing through it. ❛Rehab Roy. Get clean. I mean it this time. Get out─ and get help.❜ He sucked in a breath, and his breath shook. He was crying. ❛Okay- okay, I’m sorry.❜ He whispered and then I heard him walk away. ❛I love you❜ He whispered and then he closed the doors behind him. I cried myself to sleep that night.❞

Barbara was Batgirl long before I was Swift. She’s been doing this for longer than I have, and in all honest she is one of the women I respect most in the world. It was her decision to become Batgirl, she didn’t do it because someone had given her the opportunity, she gave it to herself. She fought for it herself. In many ways she reminds me of Dinah, a woman I respect more than anyone on this earth. Both are women not afraid to take life by its horns and point it in the direction they want it to go. While one is like a mother to me, the other is someone I would be proud to call a sister. I was new in Gotham when Barbara was crippled, it was one of the first brushes I had with how truly terrible and breath taxingly horrendous the job was. While many might have given up after what had happened, she persisted. She turned her injury into a chance to help people. She never gave up, she kept fighting, helping us in anyway she could. Her transition from Batgirl to Oracle would have broken anyone lesser than she. It did not break her. I remember the first time we went on patrol together before the fateful night with the Joker, Dick had been showing me the ropes and she had joined us. With hair like fire and a wit sharp enough to keep up with my own I instantly knew that no matter the cost I wanted her on my side. Dick left us early that night, and from the early hours of the morning until we called it a night, we stayed by the others side. Working together as though we had been trained to do so. Fighting along side her felt as natural as the first time I put on a mask. Fighting by her side, I felt like it was meant to be. I couldn’t stop staring at her that night, watching in awe as she worked. I was young then, and I thought the world of her. I still do if I am being completely honest. I truly do. Through it all, through her trials, her injustices, her faults and her failures she persisted. Persisted in a way I don’t think I ever could. For despite everything that has happened to her, despite everything she’s been through— she continues to be more loving and kind than I could ever be. Barbara Gordon is the best of us. And I would damn myself to be half the woman she is. ❞

❝ I became a vigilante when I was twelve years old. I’ll admit, it was for rather selfish reasons but I became one nonetheless. Under the tutelage of Oliver Queen I rose to be his new protege, it wasn’t supposed to happen but it did. Back in the old days, I even tried out a bow and arrow- but it wasn’t my thing. I preferred the nitty gritty personal fighting that Kali and Escrima sticks provide. As I grew better under the wing of the Green Arrow, I caught my cousins attention- and nothing stays hidden from the Bat for long. I came back to Gotham to work with him, to train with him- I thought it was one of the better decisions of my life. Swift was born in Star, not in Gotham and I refused to take the Bat symbol because of that.

I wanted to be my own hero.

I thought that training under Bruce would get me there, and in a way it did. Working with The Batman brought me notoriety and fame, from there I partnered with the Teen Titans, and came back to my home in Star when I felt like it- it was like living a dream in a way. I had everything I could have wanted and everything I could have hoped for.

But

tragedy has never stayed away for to long.

As Swift grew, so did the attention on her- and my cousins Villains, and even those of Oliver Queen himself tried their hands at me. The saw me as a weak point, just like every other protege, I just happened to be a hit two bird with one stone sort of situation. But they didn’t succeed. I prevailed against them, time and time again. Until the day Slade Wilson came for me and me alone.

He beat me, drugged me, and took who I was and turned her inside out. It's called

brainwashing,

although it didn’t feel like it. What he did was he brought all my anger, all my hate, all my rage to the surface and he used it. He honed it, he crafted it and in the time I spent by his side- he forged it into a weapon that no one was quite ready to face.

Then he turned me against my family.

When I awoke from what he'd done, I did not recognize myself. I was better and I knew it. My skills, reflexes, even simply my perception in a fight was better- Slade had known what he was doing when he made me. As much as I hated it, he’d done a damn good job.

I hated myself more in those weeks then I have in my entire life, and that is saying something. In that weakness, I was approached by another possibility, another shadowy figure who promised to help me find my center again. I took Ra’s Al Ghul's hand and I let him elevate me as he saw fit. For months I tried under his tutelage, I learned to rekindle the spark I had had as swift, and turn it into something that I could use. I was no longer a weapon at anyone else hand but myself. Of course, Ras was never altruistic, it's not in his nature and I knew going in he wanted something from me, I never could have guessed what that would be.

He wanted me to be his successor,

Bruce had said no, Damian had said no, he did not trust Talia and he now looked to me. He told me in those months he had been watching me, he’d been watching me since he learned of what Wilson had done, he’d been intrigued and the idea had come to him after watching how I had turned against my own family for the sake of emotions. Emotions I would likely never use again for that very reason.

I declined his offer, I didn’t want to- in truth- there is a part of me that wanted to be come the head of the League. I would have been the most powerful woman in the world I would have been the closest thing to a god a mortal born girl could achieve. With my hands I could shape the world, for the better- if I wanted.

But said no

. I didn’t know why but I know why now.

I don’t want to be someone else

pawn.

I have never wanted to simply be a player in someone else game. I have, since the moment I called myself Swift and declined the symbol of a Bat or an Arrow, been my own person and my own warrior.

I will no longer be someone else weapon.

I am my own woman.

And it is time that I finally put that into realization.❞

❝Despite what many might think, I didn’t have a happy childhood and I haven’t had a happy life. The first eight years were heaven but as I got older, that happiness faded away into the background. That isn’t to say however that I didn’t have people who shown a light in my darkness. And Dick Grayson was the first, and one I will before all others remember for that. I was eight when I moved to Gotham, a lonely kid who’d lost everything and now had nothing left to fill the whole in my chest that my life had left. I had arrived on a privet jet with my social worker, Bruce and one suit case full of the few personal effects that had survived the fire. Waiting on the landing strip on that grey afternoon was Dick Grayson standing on the tarmac next to Alfred smiling despite the circumstances. He was still smiling as he took the suitcase, making me look stronger than I was by pretending the suitcase was heavier than it actually was. I didn’t laugh, I didn’t smile- but thats never deterred him. He continued on like this, always that light in the darkness. Wayne Manor was big enough that with only four of us living there, we could go hours without actually seeing anyone. And I used that to my advantage. I tried to disappear into the ancient house, but he would always find me. Cracking jokes when I was pretending to be reading, or bringing me snacks when I wouldn’t talk to him. It was overbearing and yet, he was always there when things got bad. Even at school- he was there to make sure I knew where my classes were, give me a place to sit and eat for my first year there even though we were years apart. I remember the day he left Gotham like it was yesterday. He was eighteen, I was eleven and I felt like for a second time my world was breaking apart. I knew he was upset, as he knelt down and embraced me standing there on the steps of Wayne Manor with his motorcycle waiting for him down those steps. ❛You have my number N, if you need anything call me okay?❜ He’d said and I nodded, my face as plain and emotionless as I could make it. ❛I’ll see you soon.❜ He promised and the he left, leaving me on those steps. I watched until he was gone, and then I cried. I didn’t want to be alone in that house without him. But I had to be strong. He was only in Blüdhaven, only a few minutes away. It wasn’t like he was going away forever. But all the same, it was only one more year before I left as well. Even Jason wasn’t enough to keep me in that house for long. I left for Star City, I met Ollie, I became Swift and when everything was said and done when I was back in Gotham he was there to show me the ropes. I still remember his long and overly complicated explanation of how to use a grappling gun. As if I hadn’t used something like it before. He wanted to help, and all I wanted to do was show off. So I did, and he laughed. He taught me how to fly, those first nights in Gotham. Standing on the edge of a Gotham High rise with the wind blowing harder than anyone would expect. ❛Its just a leap of faith N, you just got to go.❜ He said and then he stepped off the side of the building. I followed not two seconds after, screaming with joy as the group raced towards me. Those few moments between falling and flying always remind me of him. Its always just a leap of faith. It was that smile, and those words, and the wind rushing through my hair that I remembered when I finally stood against him in the Batcave. When twisted with anger, and the need for some closure and vengeance tried to exact it on my family. With Slade Wilson by my side he was the one thing I could not overcome. We went back and fourth, him pleading and the both of us bleeding and when I finally should have gotten the upper hand. I could’t finish it. I couldn’t finish him. And in that hesitation he ended it. He was the last thing I saw in that fight. In that haze of anger. And when I woke up he was there, holding my hand. Sitting beside the bed in the medical wing with my wrists cuffed to the sides of the bed and his hands around one of mine. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and when I started to cry, he was the first to forgive me. Always a light, even in my darkest moments. A light I will never be able to repay, but one I will always follow to find my way home.❞ 

❝I'm not a good person. I’m not a good role model. Everyone story in this community seems to be the same, from tragedy greatness is born. Bruce lost is parents and it inspired him to seek revenge, to find a way to keep it fro happening to others. Dick was the same way, trying to track down his parents killer he fell in love with the night. Over and over and over again we rise from the ashes of our past to become this shining white lights in the night for people to rally behind. But I’m not like that. I have never been a white light. I’ve never been a kind soul. I stood in the ashes of my tragedy and instead of rising above it, I never left. I am still locked in that war inside my head, fighting in the night to fill the whole in my chest that they left. I am not better than my pain. I am not better than my trauma. Every day I live in spite of it, running from it, fighting with it. Every day I struggle to keep breathing. And I don’t fight so people don’t have to go through this, I don’t fight to make them feel better. I fight to keep myself afloat in this horror I swim through every day. I am not a golden goddess crafted from the sins done to her to become better than her shadow. I am not a modern day faerytale giving life and light to children. I am my own shadow, living eternally behind the mask that was seared onto my face when I lost my life. I am not better than my trauma. I am my trauma. For every day I live and breath with its pain still inside of me. I fight to feel. I don’t fight to heal.❞

❝I always hated the scares on my body. From the time I was eight years old I carried them, and from then on collected them like memories on my body. Memories that I wanted to forget but now never could because they marred my body for others to see, I couldn’t ignore them because the world could see them just as I could. Scars forced me to remember my past, remember what I had done and what had been done to me. The scar on my left hand, a burn thats faded over time but one thats still there if you know where to look. A burn from when I was eight years old, trying so desperately to find my parents in a burning house, I grabbed onto a metal door handle forever searing that moment onto my body. The scar just above my heart courtesy of an Arrow from the Dark archers bow when I was thirteen. He attacked Star only months after I started patrolling with Ollie, he saw me as a weak spot in the Battling Bowmans armor and tried to exploit it. I should have died that day, but he underestimated me. A scar from a bullet, that grazed my back. Barely visible now, but you can feel it. The way the metal skimmed my skin, so close to causing real damage. It was a arms deal gone bad, such a silly little thing. Tim and I should have been able to handle it, but they got the drop on us before we got the drop on them. And I have a scar to show for it. There’s scars on my leg, attempted torture. Well no, it was torture at the hands of Falcone men─ they just didn’t last very long before they got what was coming to them. But the marks still remain. Its one of the many that I hate the most on my body. These scars are some of the many that I bare, and for as long as I have had them I have hated them. They are memories of my failings, of my darkest moments, of those times when I was not strong enough to save myself and for that I will always hate them. But the scars mean something else too, they mean I survived. They mean that I have over come what others have done to me. They mean that despite it all I have not broken. I am not fragile and I have them as proof. I am beautiful despite those scars on my body, for I will not let them make me anything less than I am.❞

─ FαмιƖу fαcє cƖαιмѕ

─ Lєgαcу

❝I live in a world of gods and monsters, were cities fall and oceans decimate the shores. I live in a world where innocence is a fleeting grace, and the actions of one person can dictate the course of the future. I live in a world with gods, and aliens and everything in between. Where wars and fought and one by a handful of gifted individuals. Individuals who can run at the speed of light, who can fly, control the very world around them. But I am not one of them. I am human, so utterly and irrevocably human. I do not have god given gifts, nor was I born with anything other than the average man. I am not full of hope, nor impervious to sorrow. I am human, I fall, I break, I cry, I hurt, and I get back up. Because I am not a god, nor am I a monster. I am that place outside of both of them. Someone who operations under the guise of something other than human, as a mask and a suit, and a pair of swords- but someone who bleeds just like the child who falls and skims their knee. I can not out fight a Kryptonian, nor go toe to toe with an Amazonian. I can not fight every battle on even turf. But my gifts are not physical, for while I can not fight them on their terms I can out think them on mine. ❞

❝Darkness becomes us. We work from the shadows, we live in the night. We work for the light, but it must never touch us, because should we hear the love of others- we will be reminded of how human we really are. And humanity has its weakness' and we can not afford to know them. I was born in fire, the girl I was burned away and for years I knew no purpose but my own unending and unabated rage. It was in the darkness and the night that I found what I was looking for. I found purpose and I found solace in the night, and while I will never see the world for what it is in the light I can know that it is by my sacrifice that people still live there. I must be willing to work without applause because if I hear it I know that they have recognized me and that was never the point. The point was to make a world where we were not needed, where people did not know the difference between the darkness and the light because fear had no place in either of them. I lived to work in the darkness of the streets, in the shadows of the night, but as I worked and as I tried to make those streets a better place I realized that the true darkness that will forever haunt me is the darkness in my own soul. I can not hear the applause of others because my final battle is not for them, and it will not come when I am ready for it. My final battle will be in my own heart, in my own darkness and when that battle comes there will be no applause for me. Only the defining silence of defeated demons.❞