Shadowflame

The air is charged with heat and tension, a swirling vortex of scorched wood, ozone, and Nyssa's simmering rage. Above us, the League's aircraft hovers like a vulture circling a fresh kill, its weapons trained on me. I'm guessing the operators inside think they've already won. Cute.

"Shadowflame, stand down!" Nyssa's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, sharp and commanding. She steps forward, her crimson-highlighted armor gleaming ominously in the flickering light of my flames. Her voice is calm, but I can hear the undercurrent of anger she's barely keeping in check. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

I glance over my shoulder at her, letting my fiery wings unfurl dramatically, their flames casting dancing shadows across the ground. "Nyssa," I say, my voice dripping with mock concern, "I know exactly what I'm dealing with: a shiny tin can full of League rejects who thought they could take me out. Spoiler alert—they can't."

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she might actually crack a tooth. "You're reckless," she spits, stepping closer. "You think your power makes you untouchable, but you're just a boy playing with fire."

"Lady," I say, flames rippling brighter as I float into the air, "if you think I'm just playing, you haven't been paying attention."

The aircraft's cannons suddenly roar to life, a symphony of destruction as green energy bolts streak toward me. I twist mid-air, my wings flaring like molten lava as I weave through the barrage. The heat doesn't bother me—it's the principle of the thing. One blast clips my shoulder, singeing my suit, and I hiss in annoyance.

"Okay," I mutter, glaring at the aircraft. "Guess we're skipping foreplay."

With a surge of fiery energy, I rocket upward, my wings propelling me like a comet straight at the aircraft. The hull looms closer, its reinforced plating gleaming in the moonlight. I summon my magic, the crimson gem embedded in my chest flaring to life. Flames roar around me as I slam into the hull, my fiery fist punching through metal like it's made of tin foil.

Inside, alarms blare, and I can hear the panicked shouts of the crew. I step into the cabin, the molten edges of the hole I've created glowing ominously behind me. My wings retract slightly, their flames licking at the walls, casting the interior in an eerie orange light.

"Knock, knock," I announce, my voice echoing through the cabin. "Who ordered the fiery reckoning?"

The crew scrambles, some reaching for weapons, others diving for control panels. One brave—or incredibly stupid—guy lunges at me with a dagger. I catch his wrist mid-swing, my grip like iron. "Really?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "A knife? Against me? Bold choice."

With a flick of my wrist, I disarm him, the dagger clattering to the floor. Crimson tendrils of magic snake out from my chest gem, wrapping around him and the rest of the crew. They struggle, but the bindings hold firm, glowing faintly as they tighten.

"Alright, folks," I say, hovering in the center of the cabin. "This is your captain speaking. We're experiencing a bit of turbulence—namely, me. So please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the fall."

With a sweep of my hand, I guide the bound crew out of the open hatch. They hover for a moment, suspended in mid-air, before I lower them gently to the ground. My magic cushions their fall, depositing them in a neat pile next to Bane, who lets out a low groan.

"Stay here," I call down. "And, uh, don't try anything stupid. He's not exactly chatty, but I'm sure he'll make great company."

Nyssa's face is a masterpiece of barely-contained fury as I land back on the ground, flames still rippling around me. She stalks forward, her movements sharp and precise, every step radiating menace.

"You're insufferable," she hisses, her eyes blazing.

I dust off my hands theatrically, letting my flames dim slightly. "Oh, come on, Nyssa. You've got to admit, that was pretty badass. I mean, did you see the landing? Ten out of ten."

Her lips curl into a cold smile, the kind that would send chills down most people's spines. "You think you've won, Shadowflame?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous. "This was nothing but a test. You've proven exactly what I suspected—you're reckless, arrogant, and predictable."

"Predictable?" I echo, tilting my head. "Nyssa, I just turned your aircraft into Swiss cheese, disarmed your crew, and made you look like the world's most ineffective Bond villain—all while cracking jokes. If that's predictable, I'd love to see what surprises look like."

Her smirk widens, and she takes another step forward. "Oh, you'll see, Shadowflame. I'm not my father. I don't need an army or a League to defeat you."

She raises her arm, the glowing barrels on her wrist humming ominously. With a flick of her fingers, her thrusters ignite, launching her toward me with blinding speed. Her fist swings in a blur, aiming straight for my chest. I meet her head-on, flames flaring into a shield that absorbs the blow.

The impact sends shockwaves rippling through the ground, but I hold my ground, my flames surging brighter. "Nice punch," I say, gripping her gauntlet as it glows red-hot under my touch. "But here's the thing, Nyssa—you're playing with fire. And me? I am the fire."

Her eyes narrow, and she twists free, her movements fluid and precise. "You'll burn out," she says, her voice calm but cutting. "And when you do, I'll be there to extinguish what's left."

I grin, letting my wings flare wide, their fiery glow illuminating the battlefield. "Nyssa," I say, my voice low and dangerous, "if you think you can handle the heat, by all means—try me."

—

Sirius Black was not a babysitter, no matter what anyone said. Yet here he was, leading a group of teenagers through a deathtrap designed by the League of Shadows. The assassins swarmed around them like flies, and he was starting to feel like a very annoyed flyswatter.

"Robin, on my left!" Sirius barked, flicking his wand to disarm an assassin rushing toward him. The blade flew into the air and clattered against the stone floor. "And for Merlin's sake, stop trying to outdo me! You'll only embarrass yourself."

"Not a chance," Robin shot back, sliding in with a spin-kick that sent an assassin sprawling. He twirled his staff, blocking another strike aimed at Sirius' back. "But thanks for the reminder, Grandpa."

Sirius scowled, deflecting another attack with a shimmering Protego. "Watch your mouth, bird-boy. Or I'll show you how we duel in the wizarding world."

"Can't wait," Robin quipped, ducking under a sword swing and slamming his staff into the attacker's ribs. "But maybe save the banter for after we're not surrounded?"

A blur of red and yellow zipped past them, and suddenly three assassins were on the floor groaning in pain. Kid Flash skidded to a halt, hands on his hips. "Seriously, you two? Flirting in the middle of a fight? Get a room."

"We're not flirting," Sirius and Robin snapped in unison. Kid Flash grinned and zipped off again, dodging a barrage of throwing stars with casual ease.

Aqualad stepped forward, his twin water-bearers swirling with deadly precision. His movements were calm, deliberate—every strike calculated to incapacitate rather than kill. "Stay focused," he said, his voice steady. "These assassins are more dangerous than they appear."

"Yeah, yeah," Speedy muttered from his vantage point, loosing an arrow that exploded into a net, trapping a cluster of attackers. "We get it, Kaldur. But maybe try saying something encouraging for once?"

"Would you prefer I lie?" Aqualad replied, blocking a blade with a shield of water before countering with a sweeping strike.

"No, but maybe something like, 'You're doing great, Speedy. Keep up the good work,'" Speedy suggested, firing another arrow.

"Fine," Aqualad said, deadpan. "You're doing great, Speedy. Keep up the good work."

Sirius barked a laugh as he sent an assassin flying with a well-placed Stupefy. "See? This is why I like you, Kaldur. You're the only one here with an actual sense of humor."

—

Talia al Ghul moved like a shadow, her katana slicing through her opponents with deadly precision. Her every motion was deliberate, graceful, and terrifyingly efficient. She was a storm wrapped in silk, and she knew it.

"Starfire, Donna—flank left," Talia commanded, her voice smooth but authoritative. "Supergirl, Galatea—take to the skies. Raven, with me."

"Yes, Lady Talia," Starfire said, her eyes glowing green as she hurled a barrage of starbolts at the incoming assassins. Her voice was warm, almost melodic, even in the chaos. "But please, do try not to get yourself killed. We'd miss your dramatic speeches."

"Dramatic?" Talia echoed, blocking a strike and spinning to deliver a precise kick to her opponent's chest. "I prefer to think of them as inspiring."

Donna Troy grinned as she slammed her shield into an assassin, sending him flying into a wall. "Sure, Talia. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Supergirl, hovering above the fray, unleashed a burst of heat vision that carved through the enemy ranks. "Donna, less sass, more smashing!" she called, her tone bright but firm. "We've got this."

"Speak for yourself," Galatea muttered, her voice dripping with disdain as she tore through a wave of assassins with brute strength. "These guys are pathetic. It's like they want to lose."

"Careful, Galatea," Raven said softly, her dark energy wrapping around an enemy and flinging him into another. "Overconfidence is dangerous. You wouldn't want to end up on the floor, would you?"

Galatea rolled her eyes. "Please. I could do this blindfolded."

"Then maybe you should try," Raven replied, her tone deadpan. "It might make things more interesting."

As the battle raged on, Talia faced off against Bronze Tiger, her blade meeting his in a flurry of strikes. He was strong, precise, and relentless, but Talia matched him blow for blow, her movements as fluid as water.

"Bronze Tiger," she said, her voice calm despite the exertion. "You disappoint me. My father spoke so highly of you."

"And he spoke so little of you," Bronze Tiger replied, his tone icy. "Perhaps he knew you'd never live up to his legacy."

Talia's eyes narrowed, and she pressed her attack. "My legacy is my own," she said, her voice hard as steel. "And you will not stand in its way."

---

Both teams converged in the main chamber, their battles colliding in a chaotic storm of fire, magic, and steel. At the center of the room, the Lazarus Pit glowed an eerie green, its light casting long shadows across the walls.

Yousuf stood at the edge of the pit, his arms crossed and his expression cold. "You dare defile this sacred place," he said, his voice low and venomous. "Lady Nyssa will defeat Shadowflame, and when she does, your deaths will serve as offerings to the Pit."

Sirius stepped forward, his wand pointed directly at Yousuf. "You know, I've heard some bad pickup lines in my day, but that one takes the cake."

Yousuf sneered, signaling his men to attack. "Kill them all."

Talia stepped up beside Sirius, her katana gleaming in the green light. "He's mine," she said coldly.

"Be my guest," Sirius replied, raising his wand to cast a shield spell around their teams. "But don't come crying to me if you lose."

Talia smirked, stepping forward to face Yousuf as the room erupted into chaos once more.

—

The chamber reeked of sulfur, blood, and the unmistakable metallic tang of the Lazarus Pit. As I strode in, the room went deathly silent, the assassins frozen mid-action like they'd just been caught sneaking cookies before dinner. My boots hit the stone floor with an ominous echo, every step screaming doom.

Nyssa al Ghul dangled beside me in shimmering magical chains, her eyes spitting fire as her mouth remained gagged by a glowing rune. Floating her like a piñata was, admittedly, a bit dramatic, but hey, if you're going to make an entrance, make it unforgettable. Behind me, Bane, the so-called "beast of a man," was a wreck—bloodied, bruised, and barely breathing. He'd learned the hard way that magic beats muscles, every time.

"Well," I began, spreading my arms in mock grandeur. My voice echoed like a storm beneath my helmet, equal parts menace and charm. "This is cozy. A Lazarus Pit, a gaggle of assassins, and a whole lot of bad decisions. Who's the decorator? I want a word."

Supergirl was the first to speak up. "Your flair for dramatics is unparalleled, Harry."

"Flair?" I shot back, letting my tone drip with faux indignation. "Kara, this isn't flair. This is a public service announcement. These lovely folks need to learn that playing with green death goo is a bad idea."

"Green death goo?" Starfire chimed in, her voice rich with amusement. "That is a most apt description, beloved."

"Why, thank you, Kory." I smirked beneath my helmet, deliberately ignoring the way her voice dipped a little on "beloved." Focus, Harry. Save the flirting for later.

Yousuf stepped forward, his face twisted in fury. "You dare—"

"Dare? Oh, mate, daring is my middle name," I interrupted, my tone laced with playful venom. I gestured lazily toward Nyssa. "Behold: your fearless leader. Bound, gagged, and frankly, not looking her best. And this," I stepped aside to reveal Bane's broken form, "is your muscle. Spoiler alert: he didn't last long."

A snort escaped Galatea, who stood by the doorway with her arms crossed, looking every bit like a goddess ready to smite someone. "You're such a showoff," she muttered, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

"Guilty as charged," I shot back, giving her a wink she couldn't see but probably felt in her soul.

Raven, standing at the edge of the room with her hood casting shadows over her face, shifted uncomfortably. I could feel her eyes on me, the faint flicker of something she'd never admit curling in her chest. "Must you always be this insufferable?" she muttered, her voice a mix of exasperation and...something else.

"Must I? No," I replied smoothly, turning to her with exaggerated flair. "But where's the fun in restraint, Raven? Besides, I like keeping you on your toes."

Yousuf slammed his fists together, trying to reclaim some semblance of authority. "We are the League of Assassins! You think you can intimidate us? We answer only to Lady Nyssa!"

I tilted my head, studying him like one might study a particularly stubborn child. "Yousuf, my guy, let me spell it out for you." I flicked my wrist, sending Nyssa spinning in midair like a twisted carnival ride. "Your 'Lady Nyssa' is currently my hostage, and judging by the death glares she's throwing me, she knows exactly how screwed you all are. So, here's the deal: surrender, or I turn this chamber into a sauna using your Lazarus Pit as fuel."

There was a beat of silence before Deedee's voice crackled in my ear. "You do realize you sound terrifyingly hot when you're like this, right?"

I grinned, letting my voice drop into a husky drawl. "Why, thank you, Dee. I aim to please."

Supergirl groaned, though the smile in her tone was unmistakable. "Focus, Harry."

"Oh, I'm focused," I said, my gaze locked on Yousuf, who was beginning to sweat. "So, what's it gonna be, Yousuf? Surrender and live, or keep this little standoff going and see just how creative I can get with pain magic?"

The assassins shifted uneasily, their resolve wavering. Finally, Yousuf dropped to one knee, his head bowed. One by one, the others followed suit, their weapons clattering to the ground.

"Good choice," I said, my tone light and almost cheerful. I turned to the Lazarus Pit, the green glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's have a little bonfire, shall we?"

Nyssa thrashed against her bindings, her muffled screams filled with impotent rage. I glanced at her, tilting my head in mock sympathy. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Nyssa. This is what happens when you play with fire."

"Harry," Raven said softly, stepping closer. "You're terrifying sometimes."

I turned to her, letting the faintest smile curl my lips beneath the helmet. "Terrifying? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely."

And as the chamber filled with the roar of destruction, I couldn't help but feel the weight of every gaze on me—some filled with fear, others with admiration, and a select few with something far more dangerous.

—

The remaining assassins weren't much of a challenge. Without Yousuf's shaky leadership and with Nyssa incapacitated, they fought like cornered rats—desperate, but ultimately doomed. Supergirl, Starfire, and Galatea swept through them like a storm, each one showing off in her own way.

"Another down," Supergirl called out, tossing an assassin into a wall with casual ease. Her golden hair swirled around her as she floated gracefully above the chaos. "Seriously, do they ever stop coming?"

"Not until they run out of bad decisions," Galatea quipped, landing a brutal punch that sent one man skidding across the stone floor. "You'd think they'd get the memo by now."

Starfire, glowing with golden-green energy, fired off a barrage of starbolts. "It is rather disheartening. One might hope they would reconsider their poor life choices after the first ten defeats."

Raven, standing off to the side, muttered a quiet incantation, binding three assassins in swirling shadows. "They're assassins, not scholars. Thinking clearly isn't their strong suit." She glanced at Shadowflame, who was leaning casually against the chamber's central console, his red cloak billowing despite the lack of wind. "Though they seem to fear you more than death."

I flashed her a grin beneath my helmet, letting my voice drip with mock modesty. "What can I say? I have a way with people."

"By 'way,' you mean scaring the crap out of them?" Kid Flash zipped past, disarming two assassins in the blink of an eye. "You know, not everyone considers fear a form of charm."

"Don't they, though?" I shot back, stepping forward and conjuring a ring of fire around the remaining assassins. They froze, hands raised, faces pale. "See? Works like a charm every time."

Robin flipped over the console, landing neatly beside me as the last of the assassins were subdued. "We've got the hideout," he said, his tone sharp and focused. "Now let's see what kind of mess Nyssa left behind."

Within minutes, the room was secure. The team spread out, either binding the unconscious assassins or examining the Lazarus Pit chamber with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Supergirl, Starfire, and Galatea lingered near the pit, their glowing eyes fixed on the bubbling green liquid.

"You think this stuff is as creepy as it looks?" Supergirl asked, tilting her head.

"Absolutely," Galatea replied, crossing her arms. "I've seen some messed-up things, but this? This wins."

Starfire floated closer, her expression a mix of wonder and disgust. "It is a substance of life and death. A most dangerous balance."

Meanwhile, at the central computer, Robin, Aqualad, Kid Flash, and I worked to sift through the League's files. Aqualad stood stoically, his calm presence grounding us as we worked. Robin's fingers flew across the keyboard, his face lit with the glow of the monitors.

"Found something," he said after a moment, his voice tight with a mix of excitement and frustration. A schematic popped up on the screen, a detailed blueprint of Nyssa's armor. "This is it. The armor Nyssa was wearing."

Kid Flash leaned over Robin's shoulder, his eyes wide. "Whoa. That's… insane. Look at this! Kryptonite shielding, energy absorption, enhanced strength—this thing's built to take down heavy hitters like Superman."

"Was built," I corrected, my voice dry. "Now it's just expensive scrap metal."

Robin shot me a look, his lips pressed into a thin line. "You couldn't have left it intact?"

"Robin, buddy," I said, throwing an arm around his shoulder, "when someone's trying to kill you, you don't stop to consider their fashion choices. You destroy the threat. End of story."

Kid Flash groaned, throwing his hands up. "But come on, man! That armor would've been the ultimate souvenir. You couldn't have just… I don't know, disarmed her instead of turning it into Swiss cheese?"

"Swiss cheese is underrated," I said with a smirk, earning an exasperated sigh from both of them.

Robin shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Batman's gonna kill me for not getting my hands on this."

Aqualad raised an eyebrow, his calm voice cutting through the bickering. "Focus. The armor may be destroyed, but the data is what matters. If the League has blueprints for this, they might have more weapons in development."

"Exactly," I said, gesturing to the screen. "Which is why we're here. Not to play souvenir hunters or impress Batman, but to stop the League from making more of these toys."

Kid Flash grumbled but relented, leaning against the console with a pout. "Fine. But I'm still mad about it."

"You'll get over it," I said with a grin, turning back to the screen. "Now, let's see what else Nyssa was hiding in this little playground of horrors."

Behind me, I could feel the weight of the girls' gazes—Supergirl, Starfire, Galatea, even Raven, who was trying (and failing) to look uninterested.

Deedee's voice crackled in my ear again, her tone teasing. "You know, Harry, it's kind of unfair how effortlessly you manage to be a badass. Some of us have to work for it."

I smirked, leaning casually against the console. "Dee, if I had a nickel for every time someone said that, I'd own Wayne Enterprises by now."

Supergirl rolled her eyes but smiled. "Don't let it go to your head, Shadowflame."

"Too late," Galatea muttered, though the amusement in her tone was unmistakable.

Raven's voice, quiet but cutting, broke through the banter. "Let's just hope you can keep that ego in check long enough to finish the job."

I turned to her, tilting my head with a grin she couldn't see but could definitely feel. "Rae, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were worried about me."

Her glare was icy, but the faintest hint of color touched her cheeks. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" I teased, turning back to the screen as the team continued piecing together the League's secrets.

—

In the dim glow of the computer screen, Robin worked with focused precision. The others were busy elsewhere—Shadowflame was directing the tying up of prisoners, barking orders with his trademark mix of sass and authority, while Kid Flash darted around the wreckage of Nyssa's downed aircraft, muttering about finding the "perfect souvenir." Starfire, Supergirl, and Galatea hovered nearby, keeping watch over the subdued assassins.

Robin's fingers flew over the keyboard as he discreetly isolated the file containing the armor's blueprints. He hadn't lied when he said the data was important, but this particular file had caught his attention for a reason he wasn't about to share. With a few quick keystrokes, he compressed the file and uploaded it to a secure channel.

To: The Batcave

From: Robin

Subject: League's Armor Tech

"Blueprints attached. Thought you'd want to see this. They were using it to counter Kryptonian-level threats. Let me know if you need more info."

Satisfied, he hit send. The file disappeared into the encrypted network, vanishing into cyberspace like a shadow into the night.

---

The low hum of the Batcave's countless gadgets filled the cavernous space. Shadows danced along the rocky walls as water dripped rhythmically into the depths below. Batman stood before the towering Batcomputer, his sharp gaze scanning the intricate schematics of the League of Assassins' armor. The glow of the massive monitor reflected off his cowl, highlighting the hard lines of his expression.

"Master Dick never fails to deliver, does he?" Alfred's voice echoed from the stairway behind him, light and dry as ever. The older man descended the steps with a tray in hand, the delicate clink of a steaming cup of Earl Grey and a small plate of biscuits following him.

Batman didn't turn from the screen. "This isn't a gift, Alfred. It's a warning." He zoomed in on a portion of the blueprint, the power source specifically. "This suit wasn't just designed to counter Kryptonians. It's modular—adaptive. They could retrofit this for any target." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Including me."

Alfred placed the tray on the desk beside him and folded his hands neatly behind his back. "How thoughtful of them, sir. It seems even the League of Assassins feels the need to flatter you with their paranoia."

Bruce gave him a sidelong glance but said nothing, continuing his analysis. "The neural interface is sloppy. It's designed to optimize reflexes, but it compromises the wearer's stability. Prolonged use would lead to seizures or worse."

"Then I suppose it's fortunate that Master Harry decided to—what was the phrase he used? Ah, yes—'tactically dismantle' it," Alfred offered, his tone betraying a faint note of approval.

Batman tapped a few keys, bringing up a 3D render of the armor's adaptive plating. "The Kryptonite shielding is weak. They underestimated its energy dissipation. That's why Shadowflame was able to tear through it so quickly." He leaned back, the cowl throwing his face into shadow. "Still, it's a good design. Too good. If they perfect it—"

"Then it could pose a significant problem," Alfred finished for him. He picked up the tea and held it out. "Which is why I suspect you'll be skipping dinner in favor of locking yourself in the Batforge to test these theories."

Bruce accepted the cup but didn't drink. "This armor isn't the endgame. It's a prototype. The League has resources we haven't accounted for. And Nyssa... she's too smart to let this setback stop her."

"Then I take it a visit to her remaining assets will be in order?" Alfred suggested.

Batman's lips pressed into a thin line. "Eventually. But first, I need to make sure this armor never becomes a threat again." He set the tea down and strode toward the Batforge, his cape billowing behind him.

As he vanished into the shadows, Alfred sighed and shook his head. "And here I was hoping for a quiet evening."

---

Shadowflame stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, his helmet tilted ever so slightly as if daring anyone to challenge him. The prisoners were lined up neatly, bound and gagged, while Supergirl and Galatea ensured none of them tried anything foolish. Starfire hovered just above the ground, her glowing hands ready for action.

"All right, listen up!" Shadowflame's voice cut through the room like a whip. "You're all officially under new management. Don't like it? Take it up with HR. Oh wait, that's me." He smirked beneath his helmet, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Applications for complaints will be processed never."

Supergirl rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. "Do you ever stop?"

"Not when I'm on a roll," he shot back. "Speaking of rolls, how's our speedster doing with his scavenger hunt?"

"Found it!" Kid Flash's voice rang out as he zipped back into the room, holding up a twisted piece of metal. "This right here? This is history. A piece of the League's advanced tech."

Shadowflame squinted at the hunk of metal. "That's a door handle, Wally."

"Details!" Kid Flash retorted. "It's the principle of the thing."

Robin joined them, his expression neutral but his tone tinged with exasperation. "Can we focus, please? We've got what we came for. The files are secure, and the prisoners are ready for transport."

Shadowflame clapped his hands together. "Music to my ears. Let's move, people! Nyssa's faction is officially ours. Call it a hostile takeover. Emphasis on hostile."

Deedee's voice crackled through the comms. "And yet somehow, you're still the most insufferable person I've ever met."

"Aw, Dee, don't be jealous," Shadowflame quipped. "You can join the fan club. Membership's free—autographs, though, are extra."

Raven, who had been leaning against the wall, finally spoke. "You're lucky we need you, or I'd suggest gagging you along with the prisoners."

Shadowflame turned to her, his voice dropping an octave. "You know, Rae, if you keep flirting like this, people might start talking."

Her glare could have frozen molten lava, but her cheeks darkened ever so slightly. She turned away without a word, muttering something about egos and recklessness.

Supergirl smirked, exchanging a look with Galatea. "He's impossible, isn't he?"

"Completely," Galatea replied. "But somehow... it works."

Shadowflame caught their exchange and grinned. "Ladies, please. There's enough of me to go around. But let's save the swooning for later. We've got a plane to catch."

As the team began loading the prisoners onto the transport, Shadowflame glanced back at the hideout, his confidence unwavering. The League of Assassins might regroup, but for now, their plans were in ashes. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

—

The dim green glow of the Lazarus Pit filled the room with an otherworldly light, casting distorted shadows across the ancient stone walls. Talia al Ghul stood at the edge of the platform, her slender frame held taut, like a predator surveying its domain. Her dark eyes, full of intelligence and barely concealed turmoil, were fixed on the swirling liquid.

Sirius Black lingered a few paces behind her, his leather jacket scuffed from the earlier battle, his long dark hair framing a face that wore a perpetual smirk. But the usual bravado in his gray eyes was tempered by caution as he watched her. He had faced Dementors, Death Eaters, and his own past, but there was something about the Lazarus Pit—and the history it represented—that made even him uneasy.

"Hell of a light show," Sirius said casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stepped closer. "But I can't say I'm a fan of the decor. Bit too 'evil lair chic' for my taste."

Talia's lips curved into a faint smile, though her gaze didn't waver from the pit. "It suits its purpose," she said softly, her accent giving her words an almost musical quality. "The Lazarus Pit is not meant to inspire comfort. It is a reminder of what it gives… and what it takes."

Sirius arched a brow, leaning against one of the stone pillars. "And what's that, exactly? Besides the obvious 'eternal life with a side of madness' package deal."

Talia turned to him then, her expression a mix of weariness and defiance. "It takes the part of you that is human. Compassion, restraint… sanity. It amplifies ambition, anger, greed. My father believes it makes him invincible, but it has made him a slave to his own obsession."

Sirius pushed off the pillar, crossing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand brushing hers. "And what about you? Do you believe in it?"

Talia's gaze softened as she looked up at him. "I believe it is a curse masquerading as salvation. A weapon my father has wielded for centuries, and one that has consumed everyone who touches it. Including my sister."

"Nyssa knew what she was getting into," Sirius said gently, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Doesn't mean she deserved it, but she made her choice."

Talia sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly under his touch. "Nyssa was a fool. She thought she could usurp my father, take his throne and his legacy. But the League does not follow fools for long. Her defeat was inevitable."

"Still, it's not every day you overthrow your sister and her faction of assassins," Sirius said, a wry smile playing on his lips. "If this were a regular family drama, I'd say you're overdue for a stiff drink and a vacation."

Talia let out a soft laugh, a rare sound that Sirius immediately committed to memory. "If only it were that simple. You know as well as I do that this is far from over."

Sirius nodded, his expression turning serious. "Slade Wilson."

"Deathstroke," Talia corrected, her tone hardening. "He is a far greater threat than Nyssa ever was. Where she was driven by pride and a need for validation, Slade is methodical, calculated. He does not act without purpose, and his purpose is to claim the League for himself."

Sirius frowned, his free hand running through his hair. "And he's got the skills to back it up. I've seen what he can do. The man's practically a one-man army."

"He is more than that," Talia said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "He is my father's contingency plan. A soldier without loyalty to anything but power. And now, with Nyssa gone, he will see this as his opportunity to strike."

Sirius stepped closer, his other hand cupping her face gently. "Then we'll deal with him. Together. Just like we dealt with Nyssa."

Talia closed her eyes briefly, leaning into his touch. "And after Slade? What then, Sirius? My father will not ignore this rebellion. He has already escaped from the Justice League's Blacksite. He will come for us. For me."

"Let him come," Sirius said, his voice firm. "We've faced worse. Hell, I've faced Voldemort, Dementors, and a prison sentence that would make Arkham look like a holiday resort. Ra's is just another self-righteous tyrant with too much power and not enough humanity."

Talia pulled back slightly, her dark eyes locking onto his. "You cannot underestimate him, Sirius. My father is not just a man. He is an idea, a legacy that has endured for centuries. To defeat him is to destroy the League itself."

"Good," Sirius said with a wolfish grin. "Because I've never been a fan of secret societies that preach world domination. Bit too Slytherin for my taste."

Talia's lips twitched, a reluctant smile breaking through her stern demeanor. "You are impossible."

"And yet, here you are," Sirius teased, his tone light despite the gravity of their situation.

She shook her head, but the warmth in her gaze betrayed her affection. "We cannot afford to be reckless, Sirius. Slade will not fall easily, and my father… he will not fall at all unless we are prepared."

"Then we'll prepare," Sirius said, his voice steady. "We'll take down Slade, and then we'll deal with Ra's. Together."

Talia studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stepped closer, her hands resting on his chest. "Together," she repeated, her voice soft but resolute.

The Lazarus Pit bubbled behind them, its sinister glow a reminder of the battles yet to come. But for now, in this moment, they stood as equals, partners in a war that was far from over.

---

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