he was engineered to be the perfect hunter, the flawless assassin. failure has never and will never be an option. to be sent on a mission, blessed by ra’s al ghul himself, is one of the highest honors. to fail in this quest is to embrace death at a young age. tonight, he did not fail ---- but he was too sloppy, he left two witnesses. if he were still eight, he would have left it be. what authority will take a witness statement that says the assassin was under a hundred and forty centimeters? but he is not a child anymore, he cannot afford to be sloppy anymore. his tenth birthday fast approaches, failure would spell yet another year in which he fails to best his mother.
the deal was simple: beat her in sword combat on his birthday and she will take him to meet his father, to know what sullies his al ghul bloodline. so far, he has failed thrice. it will NOT happen again.
his victim fled to the woods ----- the boy follows without hesitation. dodging through trees, snarled roots snatching at his ankles, he would almost smile at the adrenaline that careens through his veins if he did not stink of sweat and dread. if this man can outrun him --- no, he mustn’t think of that. he reaches up, slowing his run. he cannot reach his prey at this pace, damian reasons as he lifts himself onto a low hanging branch. breath to breath, branch to branch. though more exerting path, the dense forestry now works to his advantage. within seconds, he has him in view.
his steps, light as a mere breeze brushing the leaves, cannot give him away ---- he closes in on his prey.
the boy launches from the trees with a bellowing cry, dagger poised to make the kill. the man’s scream is cut short as the boy’s weapon finds a home in his trachea. he rips his dagger free, the stench of death nothing new. no matter it’s unsanitary smell, it is a comfort. the scent of success.
bloodied and tired, he darts back toward civilization. from here, he still has a good two miles to run to reach the league’s stronghold before sunup. if he starts now, he can------
too wrapped in his thoughts, he failed to notice that he was no longer alone in the woods. both their landings are rough, neither too thrilled to be knocked on their asses. damian’s chin throbs from where it slammed into her skull. immediately, he is on his feet, katana slipped from its scabbard across his back.
❝ who are you? are you part of the test? ❞
