Sentry’s Tigress and The Court of Shadows
Faora was born on Krypton.
She lived most of her life there, as a soldier under the command of General Zod.
She was loyal to him, to the ideal of a renewed Krypton that he shared with them all, even those of them who had 'turned against their people and rebelled'.
And for their 'patriotism', they were sentenced for all eternity to the Phantom Zone.
Only a couple knew the truth, that their world was already in its death throes; it took their sacrifice and the sacrifice of their world to free them from their prison.
Jor-El, the brightest scientist of the entire planet, alongside his wife, the great Commander Lara-Zod.
They knew, they tried to tell them.
Both even tried to tell Zod, their best friend, but nobody wanted to believe in them.
Who would have figured that by turning renegade they proved more loyal to Krypton, to a dying world, than all of them together?
What incredible irony…a scientist and a soldier had become renegades, and they stayed behind on their doomed planet as they saw fit to send their only offspring, the heretical child that was Krypton's last hope, to the stars with the Codex embedded in his or her cells, to rebuild their world and rejuvenate their people.
You see, for the last millennia of Krypton's life they had reproduced artificially, genetically engineering their people to serve in whatever role Kryptonian society needed, and for most of that time it had worked 'beautifully'.
The soldiers and police forces kept the peace, the scientists expanded the knowledge base and broadened everyone's minds, exploring the boundaries of the universe, the administrative castes ensured all were provided for, and everyone was 'happy'.
What need had them to change their ways?
They had honestly believed they had reached the pinnacle of Kryptonian achievement.
How were they to know they had gone so wrong?
Certainly, there had been setbacks, but for every step backward, Kryptonian science and knowledge took perhaps ten steps forward.
Maybe even a hundred.
The fact that they had become capable of progressing by such leaps and bounds was interpreted as a testament to Kryptonian 'superiority', to Kryptonian 'perfection'.
To Kryptonian hubris, perhaps.
When they, the last survivors of the Phantom Zone, had found themselves freed by the fracturing of their world, they set out among the twenty-nine known galaxies, searching, pleading to whoever would listen, be it Rao or some other world's deity, that they, the last of their once-mighty race, would not starve before they'd had a chance to restart Kryptonian civilization.
But when they'd finally come to Earth in search of a signal, and had encountered the long-lost offspring of Jor-El and Lara-Zod himself, he fought them.
Scratch that.
He massacred them.
He completely humiliated them.
…
The doors of the ship fall away with an unnatural hiss due to their forced landing, and from within emerged two Kryptonians.
Her footsteps down onto the surface were measured and sure, though she had never known it beneath her boots.
The light of a foreign sun washed over her and her subordinate, spilling into the narrow crevices of their armour.
She feelt something, something odd, like a thirst long forgotten suddenly slaked.
She drank not with her lips, but with her whole body.
An undeniable warmth spread from her core through to every last extremity.
It pooled, coiled and looped, intricately moulding itself to the organic lay of her form.
She felt good, better than ever before.
She felt powerful.
All this occurred in the space of a moment.
In the time it took for her to complete no more than two strides.
But she does not let it show, nor does she let herself be distracted by these sensations.
She was there for a purpose, and that purpose stood before her now.
When she came to a stop in front of him, the curved metallic plates of her helmet sliding away, her eyes fell to examine him.
He was clothed in vibrancy, a shade of gold richer than the sun they stood beneath, with a majestic white flowing from his body.
Doom was splashed across his chest in an electrical shape, inlaid with gold, bold and defiant.
Her gaze took over him; he was an affront to her eyes.
Doom in his chest was an empty threat without power to back it up, stemmed in a mistaken notion of authority.
It might be effective against lesser beings.
But it had no business against her and her people.
She was born and bred to do what was necessary to prevail, at all costs.
"Who are you? And why do you carry the symbol of our general?" She spoke, abhorring the taste in her mouth of directing herself towards her accursed opponent, for with the possibility of who he was she remembered a world torn apart.
She remembered the one moment where she was rendered powerless.
She remembered failure.
"I bring hope for my people and doom to my enemies!" He announced while performing an overconfident pose, clearly showing how much superior he viewed himself. "I am SENTRY!"
Faora's eyes did not miss the sound of raw energy flowing around him.
But she faced him without fear.
Faora understood fear, and knew how to use it to her advantage, but she did not feel it.
She was not designed to.
"Hope and Doom?" She asked with hostility in her tone before turning to Nam-Ek and commanding him. "Take him down!"
She will never forget how that giant of a man clad in white and gold attire, effortlessly took them both down.
…
Faora-Ul woke up resting over a massive bed inside the luxurious temple made of smooth polished marble walls and columns, with intrinsicate golden features and ornaments sculptured all around it in strange patterns to her.
She checked her current condition, and became aware that all of the damage she had sustained after being struck by lightning, had vanished.
When she took notice about where she had been resting upon, the sub-commander saw that her previous opponent had been sitting on the other side of the bed.
"Good morning, beautiful." The 8 feet tall super being looked over the woman. "General Zod sent his regards." Sentry smiled before approaching the sub-commander Faora-Ul.
While his suit was not meant to be revealing, it did show off enough of his muscular frame.
For the last son of Krypton, he was very desirable.
His physiology had been redesigned to be irresistible for females of his species, and his magical form only served to boost that trait even further.
And he knew the exact effect that he was having over the possibly last daughter of Krypton.
She looked so beautiful; he wanted her.
The man named Sentry smiled wickedly as he approached her, putting his finger to her lips. "Oh yes, you'll do nicely. Come with me." He trailed his finger down her body, smoothly caressing her body, hoping to stimulate her.
He turned around and walked towards the large door of the chamber, making sure to show confidence and authority in his step.
Faora could not help but obey and stare at him.
He was very attractive for her senses, not just visually, his smell intoxicated her with sexual desire.
Something about him seemed new and inviting to her... and dangerous.
She followed him without looking back.
They moved to his throne room.
"What do you want with me? What happened? Why are you holding me here?" Faora-Ul asked, frantically in a lapse of consciousness.
Sentry chuckled and took a seat over his imposing throne. "I'll tell you what I want with you in a second. What happened was me saving my world from Zod's plan to recreate Krypton from its ashes. And I'm holding you here because I want you to hear me out."
The sub-commander was silent, waiting for him to continue.
She had been stripped out of her battle suit, only her very form-fitting skinsuit remained.
The design of her breasts and ass were displayed as well as the rest of her figure.
"So here's my proposal. I have seen how wicked and violent and cruel this earth really can be. I would like to protect everyone. Keep them safe. Protect them from future threats like your late general Dru-Zod." Sentry told her. "I want you to help me. Together, you and I could rule this world like gods. We could keep it safe!" He told her without faltering or stuttering. "I will eliminate your crew, they all wanted to destroy Earth. But you, Faora-Ul, you and I will be most likely the last remaining survivors of Krypton. Fate brought us together for this very reason." He announced as his aura began to press itself against her.
When he spoke, Sentry's voice was distinct.
Authority lent weight to it, pride evident upon each smoothly enunciated word.
She could feel the warmth of his body, his alluring scent, his mesmerizing voice and his attractive appearance.
She had that same feeling of empowerment again.
She somehow knew he was right.
She and this man could protect this world as if they were literal gods.
In an instant he was right in front of her, his lips hovered above hers.
She was trying to think of her mission, the purpose she was made.
She had quickly fallen for him, similar to how she had once begun to have feelings for Dru-Zod, but this man was all that and so much more.
While they both were powerful and confident, Kal-El was vastly superior to him in every aspect.
She could see, from Sentry, what the Earth could possibly make them.
She knew of Zod's plan.
He wanted to rebuild Krypton, a failure waiting to happen.
Sentry's plan, however…
"Just do it, Faora-Ul. Do it and become mine!" He moved his lips to touch hers, and within seconds, hers were on his.
Her lips crashed down onto his as they erupted into a fit of passion.
She was not completely driven by emotion, but by instinct as well.
Kal-El could not wait for what was going to happen next.
And it would only be the beginning.
He took hold of her and launched her several meters away, making her crash past several columns.
Faora took it not as an act of hostility, but an invitation.
Their brawls become more brutal and she revelled in it.
There was a pride in the ache he left singing over her nerves long after they've finished.
There is a certain allure in stripping themselves from all their high minded ideals and indulging to their darker instincts.
Their rage, their primal force.
In those moments, when their skin happened to meet, it wasn't unlike one of the storms back on Krypton.
It was pure energy and power, enough to destroy her and unmake her as he saw fit.
In time, she wanted nothing more than to be punished.
In time, she did.
It was a blur of movement up to this point, a mishmash of teeth and tongue as they grappled with one another.
The odd dance was still unsure, their unnatural strength bringing them to a standstill as they fought the urge to push the other away or pull them closer.
In the end, he'd won out, fingers hooking beneath her belt and hauling her the rest of the way to him.
His hands easily span her waist, holding her pointedly in place as he kissed her properly.
The daughter of Ul.
So woefully conflicted despite her soldier training.
Chuckling to herself, she shoved at his shoulders, the unexpected touch sending him falling back.
She watched him through narrowed eyes even as his suit disappeared.
The urge to tease him was lessened considerably by the promise of having him buried inside her.
Her black suit fell away from her like a second skin, pooling at her feet.
She lets it fall from her with practiced ease, leaving a trail of it in her wake as she descended on him.
She held her head arrogantly high as his gaze swept over her and for the first time she saw what she desired.
Hunger.
Desire.
The cool air kissed her skin, trailing down the curve of her back like fingers as he drank her in.
They are both perfect and he seems to stare at the sight of her, pale, flawless skin, perfect breasts and long legs, all lithe muscle.
His very body was a weapon, one she knows very well from experience, being wielded with deadly precision.
The urge to have her on her knees, her dark head buried between his legs was neglected in favor of the sight of her riding him.
The muscles in her arms strain as she clutches at the ruined marble blocks left in the aftermath of their bout, the ones in her neck cording deliciously.
It takes less than a thought and less than a second to pull her closer, straddling her hips in one fluid movement.
And gods, it felt good.
He tipped his head back, watching the shadows above them instead of her face as the once familiar sensations play through his body.
Faora worried her lower lip between her teeth, clamping down to muffle the pleased groan poised on the tip of her tongue.
It's been so long since she last indulged like this, since she's been touched by anyone with such life.
He made love not unlike how he fought.
Oozing finesse and raw power, the knowledge that he is stronger, faster, than any of their species on this planet could ever hope to be.
Home field advantage, he'd told her with a knowing little smirk.
There is something liberating in the whole of it.
She does not grovel under him as one of his subordinates might, does not stare at him with overt lust or some desire for ownership as the woman of Earth had.
The daughter of Ul regards him with the same caution as she ever had.
There is no trust, no love, no affection.
This is nothing more than a battlefield of a different sort.
His fingers tangled in her hair, forcing her head back as he had her sat over him, kissing his way down her throat.
Her heart beat faster on this world, the thin atmosphere leaving her gasping for air in the most mundane situations.
Now, it was almost impossible to breath.
She gritted her teeth, nails failing to bite at the back of his skull as she attempted to hold him in place.
She lacked the sheer physicality of the man beneath her, not having enough strength to break skin.
He frowns against her chest, dragging his teeth over the rise of her breast.
The suddenly delicate touch was a punishment all of its own, a mockery of the force they typically employed.
She rolled her hips irritably, the texture of his skin overly smooth against her inner thighs.
Cool and alien to her.
"You're not going anywhere." He spoke to her with great confidence, lips curved up in that odd half smile, brows furrowed.
A mixture of genuine amusement and something more condescending.
He ground down with more force, enjoying the way her neck snapped back, muscles cording, as he pulled her more tightly to him.
He will feel her, all of her.
That she is wet for him, ready for him, that she is willing to share her body in this manner.
She was an impressive specimen, even for a member of their species, and he finds himself fighting the urge to react to her, still having to choke down his more visceral pleasure.
Her tongue flicks out to moisten painfully dry lips, hips still rolling, as near as she can take him.
Wonderfully, tellingly, it is hard to contrast his self assurance.
The urge to end their little power play in favor of riding him until she can no longer muster the energy was growing ever more appealing.
Her voice, naturally airy and dark, was worse now, the words exhaled as she fought to retain her control.
"Then take control, daughter of Ul." He challenged her.
She grunted something he doesn't quite catch at the ceiling, bucking beneath her.
Intentional or not, he grazed her clit, the pressure welcome and furthering her frustration all at once.
The strength had her vision swaying dangerously and she heard her moan as if from far away.
Growling, he adjusts her torso, thrusting her chest at his eager lips.
Like the obedient soldiers she was, she follows his command, letting him catch her nipple between his teeth with passion, licking and sucking at the overly sensitized flesh while his free hand smacking at her ass.
The pressure was building up to an intolerable level and she pursed her lips, nails failing to bite at his perfect muscle once more.
He chuckles, biting down hard enough on her lip to draw blood as he holds her fast, suckling at her breasts.
Clutching at his arms she begins to move more in earnest, the feel of him nestled against her almost enough.
She could still feel him, all of him.
With a smirk, she slid further down his thighs, enough to leave her just below where he needed her most.
Faora watched, fascinated, as the muscle in his body pulled tight beneath her touch, gliding down his body.
She stopped, cupping his erection briefly before trailing lower still.
Kal-El pauses to take in the change, leaning back on his forearms to observe as her hand slips between her legs.
The pleasure she will be able to give herself pales in comparison to the real thing but it's enough and she growls as her fingers part her folds.
With a wicked smirk, she sets to work, tweaking her clit, sweeping lower to trace her own entrance.
The urge to plunge inside was deep but she denied herself.
The want was already so pressing; but she could last a little longer.
Kal-El sat his hands on her knees, widening her stance to better watch her movements.
The practiced, fluid grace of each pass of her fingers, how her nails pinch and knead until she's gasping for air.
The way her body pulled tight when she finally granted herself relief, burying her fingers to the knuckles within her too willing heat.
They curl, pumping furiously as she chases her orgasm, apparently forgetting her lover.
He caught her hand, features dark as he stopped her movement all together.
Faora snarls at him, lips curling back in an irritated sneer as he shoved her off of him.
With enough force to drive the air from her body, he crashes back into her, pinning her between himself and the marble slab.
He hauls her up the length of his body, spreading her legs as he dips his head to her core.
The scream was unexpected, her body bowing as his lips close around her clit.
He scrapes teeth over the sensitive bundle of nerves, leaves a hint of pain to the delirious pleasure as his fingers slide back inside her, mimicking her earlier movements.
He is so much greater and she groans, feels herself stretching to accommodate the added size, filling her deliciously.
She was already so close and he pushed her over the edge without much fanfare.
While his hand stopped, he continued to lick at her, drinking her in, tongue stroking through her folds as if mapping her.
He lifted her hips to tongue her entrance, the wet heat leaving her twitching embarrassingly in her grasp.
The Kryptonian woman was left to shove him away, the pleasure burning uncomfortably bright, beginning to build again.
He smirked at her, the expression translating as she kissed him, her taste still strong on his lips.
"Kal." She replies evenly, the simple word breathed against his skin as her hands smooth over his chest, down his abdomen.
He is the epitome of male perfection; she smirked, tangling her fingers in the blond hair dotting his pecs, nipping at his chin. "Kal-El of Krypton."
"Sentry of Earth." He added, making Faora smile.
He took the grip on her waist tightening as he pulled her down on him, filling her in harsh movement.
She growled, throwing her head back as he thrusted again, bringing himself deeper.
His icy blue eyes were wonderfully clear, watching her carefully, giving her time to adjust to his size.
The warrior suffered the unseemly urge to sag against his chest; it's been so long since she was this full.
Her chuckle was dark and she repeated her sigh, clenching around him as she rolled her hips.
There was an unseemly satisfaction in the way he groaned, holding her tightly enough to bruise, so in need of release...he bucks into her, the movement of his hips halfway frantic as they crash together, too desperate to properly meet her downstroke.
Clutching his shoulders, her nails unable to dig his skin, the hint of frustration pushing her ahead further still.
Those delicious muscles all pull tight as he strained to control himself.
Needing control and wanting relief...
They had plenty of time to continue, so she found herself smirking, leaning forward so that her breasts grazed his chest and he was forced deeper, milking him.
...
Kal-El smiled as he awoke next to his newest companion.
It had been a fantastic night of passion and sex, just like the past several nights.
He could get used to this.
He put his arms around Faora-Ul as she stirred awake. "Good morning, my dear. You sure know how to treat a man."
She kissed him on the lips and climbed on top of him, still naked from the night before, her breasts in clear view for him. "So what is on the agenda for today, master?"
He smiled, thinking of how silly making her obedient to him was. "Well, beautiful..." Taunting her with one of the nicknames he gave her. "I was thinking of saving our species from extinction."
Faora blushed at the suggestion.
She was enjoying this.
She did not get to feel special or like a woman back on Krypton or with Zod.
She had been bred and raised a warrior, but Kal was making her into something more.
They still had a goal, though, and that was to rule over this world.
Only now, more than ever, she wanted to be by his side.
His obedient paramour.
And the motives for that goal were changing as well.
It wasn't through opportunism anymore.
She was starting to... to care.
"I'd love... that idea master, but I hadn't been born with what was needed to make another living being." She said with feint a smile, but it faded into a frown. "And if you create new life by making use of the codex, I fear you won't be interested in me anymore."
She looked down.
He brought his hand to her chin lightly and brought it up to face him. "You will always be special to me, my dear. I won't promise that I won't be with other women, but I can promise to never forget you." He told her with a confident smile, which brightened her mood, making Faora smile as well.
"Kal... You make me feel so different. All my life, I was forced to be a warrior, but you're allowing me to feel emotion and to feel like a woman... I-"
He cut her off with a kiss.
She kissed him again as they tumbled back into bed, still naked.
—————————————————————
Having more than one life to live was bound to have him share his attention to multiple places.
It took Patrick a great amount of patience for him to let himself be "captured" by the masked figures that attempted to kidnap him.
Thanks to a minor illusion spell, he successfully made them believe that after evading his deadly bodyguard, their regular methods of tranquilization had actually worked on him.
After being told that this would be 'an opportunity that he would be grateful for', alongside the white masks in the shape of an owl they don, Patrick immediately confirmed which organization he was dealing with.
...
The Court of Owls was a hidden organization that had controlled Gothic Metropolis for centuries, even back when it was once named Gotham City.
They were a violent cabal of some of Gothic Metropolis's oldest and wealthiest families who use murder and money to wield political influence throughout history.
Their bases of operation had remained hidden in some of the city's oldest structures.
A popular nursery rhyme describing them has been passed down through Gothic's generations:
"Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time.
Ruling from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.
They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed.
Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head."
Lutessa Lena Luthor was the heiress to the Luthors, a wealthy family in Gothic Metropolis.
But also, heiress to the Vanaver as well, on her mother's side.
And for generations, the Vanaver have led and controlled the Court of Owls.
Her mother took the responsibility alongside her father, as both led the recruitment and training of multiple children, who would one day fight against one another for the chance of becoming the next Talon.
The Talons were highly trained and conditioned from a young age. They were extremely proficient with knives, and experts in hand-to-hand combat. And in order to remain undetected, the Talons were also masters of stealth and concealment techniques.
From their youth, Patrick Wayne and Lena Luthor were "drawn" together by many shared interests, including their ambition and intelligence.
They eventually began dating during their years studying abroad.
She was intrigued by him, Wayne never seemed incapable of proving himself more than the billionaire playboy that the tabloids made him out to be.
Not surprisingly, Lena ended up felling in love with him and saw a potential for greatness in their partnership.
Eventually, after the death of her parents, Lutessa Lena Luthor took over leadership of the Court as the next Grandmaster.
Procedure would have her personally inviting Patrick into joining the court.
But the arrival of aliens, and even "gods", added to the fact that the Wayne's had a long history of animosity towards the court of owls, she had all the regular protocols discarded for the sake of making sure he wouldn't consider to decline their offer.
...
Patrick allowed them to take him to their hidden headquarters.
He took his cue to 'regain consciousness' in the middle of a luxurious circular courtroom, with dozens of well dressed masked men and women seated in the upper rows.
Staring at him.
Judging him.
But Patrick Wayne could see through their cold masks.
He could perceive how nervous his presence made them.
Even both large man that had carried him were now standing guard besides him, showing signs of uneasiness that didn't escaped his super senses.
Eventually, the silence was broken.
"Welcome, Mr. Wayne." A cloaked and hooded masked woman leading the organization spoke, her words going through a voice modulator.
Patrick faked ignorance as he looked around. "Not exactly a warm welcome."
"If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here now." The woman who Patrick immediately recognized spoke. "Besides, your life it's just too valuable for humankind survival."
"So, you went through all this trouble just to speak with me for a moment?" He smiled and turned to face the young woman. "Who are you?"
"I am the Grandmaster of the Court of Owls." She declared.
"That would explain the masks." He remarked while showing complete calm despite his situation. "But you do have to forgive me, I was with the impression that the court was merely a legend."
"A legend we are, but one rooted in fact, just like our recent visitors from outer space." The grandmaster said. "There was a time when the court of owls stood behind every wall, in every shadow. We whispered and this city trembled. Not a leaf fell without our permission, a golden age."
"It seems that age had ended long before my birth." Patrick added. "Care to explain how that came to pass?"
"A faction rose against us that even our talons couldn't stop, my predecessors were forced to retreat." The grandmaster told him. "But the court had never surrendered, and now we are back."
"Why would you do so?" Patrick rose from his seat. "Especially after everyone else came to believe that you all were nothing more than mere fictional tales of the past."
"Because we care, Mr. Wayne." She opened her arms and gestured to everyone else seated in the room. "Just as our parents, grandparents and great grandparents cared. We are, and always will be, the sons and daughters of Gothic's wealthiest. We know far better than the rabble what's best for our city."
"In other words, you desire to control Gothic Metropolis." Wayne pointed out.
"In the past, that might've been our goal. How else to restore our city that had spiralled into chaos?" She became more intense with her words. "That has become a cesspool, a charnel house, a magnet for freaks and lunatics. We have a vision of the future, Mr. Wayne."
"You said that controlling the city was a goal of the past, I wonder what might be your current one?" Patrick asked, already confident of what the answer would be.
"World domination, Mr. Wayne." The grandmaster declared solemnly.
A pedestal was brought by two large men, and after they removed its cover, everyone saw a white marble owl mask on display.
"And we wish to invite you to join us in our cause, together we can raise the world up to our standards." She announced.
"I'm very intrigued by the offer." Patrick said as he held the mask. "But I'm even more intrigued why I am the first Wayne to be invited into your group."
"Ah yes, of course the genius ahead of his time would've noticed it." The grandmaster changed her posture a little. "You see, the Wayne family has always proven a little too short sighted in these matters. And to be honest, if not for your phenomenal work and exceptional intellect, we wouldn't be having this meeting."
"Wouldn't you by any chance have any involvement with the continuous attempts of murder against my parents?" Patrick finally asked.
The room somehow became even more silent.
"That's really unfortunate." He concluded.
"Wait, you don't understand." The grandmaster broke out of character but Patrick took action faster.
With a snap of his finger, tables suddenly turned.
Ninjas came out of every dark corner of the large courtroom, surrendering every single occupant of the court with swords against their necks and bows fully drawn.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Shouted the Grandmaster, before noticing that Patrick had taken down the four men surrounding him. "Claw guards, capture Wayne!" She ordered right before two female ninjas brought their knives against her throat.
As Patrick was about to be surrounded by the court's elite guards, a shadowy figure with an ominous tattered cloak fell from above.
The figure was wearing the Dark Knight Mk. 1 in all its glory with plated sections and flexible segments, despite its technology being centuries above anything in the current market, its appearance didn't show it.
Its mouth was covered by the tactical mask and shadowed by its hood.
The guards of the court sheathed their knives in the shape of feathers and threw them rapidly at the dark knight.
They were incredibly skilled in their attack, and would have stood a chance if I wasn't the one inside the suit.
You see, this entire time I had a magical duplicate of me acting as Patrick Wayne.
So believe me when I tell you that those 'elite guards' were child's play for my kryptonian speed and strength.
Like a blur I caught all the projectiles thrown at me and immediately rushed at my opponents, effortlessly slicing them into pieces.
My magical clone stood there, completely calm, smiling as if enjoying the show.
When the last enemy guard was defeated, and every single member of the court of owls had been apprehended, Patrick Wayne began clapping. "Well done! Bravo!"
I sheath my weapon and stood straight, answering myself with a nod.
"W-what's the meaning of this, Wayne?" The Grandmaster questioned, having a hard time with Talia and Shiva's blade against her throat.
"I call them my insurance company." The well dressed Wayne replied. "But you may call them 'the league of shadows'!"
The name made all of the attendees flinch or gasp in shock.
"T-they are real?!" The members of the court muttered.
"Of course Mr. Orchard, Ms. Powers, Mr. Moody, Mr. Clark, Mr. Wycliffe, Mr. and Ms. March." My magical clone said while picking up the white mask again. After naming a few more of the people present in the courthouse, he remarked. "Those masks are pointless, especially while everyone is carrying their very own Wayne X Phone."
"So you control the legendary guild of assassins that had once driven our organization into hiding." Presumed the Grandmaster.
"Me? Ha! Controlling the league of shadows?! Haha!" Wayne laughed before replying. "I'm afraid you've mistaken their services to me as some kind of subservience. That isn't the case my dear." Patrick hinted to her about knowing her identity. "Me and this gentleman are partners. Isn't that right, Mr. Dark Knight?"
"Always the showman, Wayne. But you're right, our partnership is beneficial for both of us." I took the cue my clone gave me and walked forward. "Greetings, Gothic's wealthiest. I'm the Leader of the League of Shadows." I announced while removing my hood.
That allowed my ashen hair to be noticed by everyone else.
"B-but—argh—I thought the one leading the assassin's was the immortal Head of the Demon!" Questioned the Grandmaster, after I nodded for Talia and Shiva to allow her to speak. "The Mythical Ra's Al Ghul!"
"How very knowledgeable of you, descendant of the Vanavers." I said while glaring at her. "But I succeeded in every trial that had been made to test me, I bested the very same Ra's Al Ghul in combat and took his life. Now, the league follows me."
"What do you want?" Asked one of the masked members with worry in his voice.
"What will you do to us?" Another questioned, with more braveness behind his words. "Will you finish the work that not even your predecessor was capable of accomplishing?"
As Patrick Wayne began to chuckle before wearing the white marble owl mask, I announced. "I've come to make an offer. Let our organizations, that had once fought against one another, merge into a new one. Stronger and with a more noble cause than both groups had ever strove for."
The same confident member made another question. "Why should we believe in you?"
"Because the world is changing." This time, my silver tongue clone spoke. "Earth is about to become the front and back stage for multiple conflicts between beings much more powerful than we had ever had to deal before."
"Precisely." I said, backing my clone's message. "The last conflict took a toll of world size proportions." Wayne tapped his watch and brought a large holographic monitor for everyone to see. "The seemingly almighty being named Sentry, proclaimed himself the protector of earth. But what if the next time he faces a threat beyond his capabilities? Or what if he goes back on his word and begins to attack mankind?"
From afar, I could see the expression of that bold member of the court changing into agreement behind his mask.
The grandmaster of the court moved to speak again, and after a hand gesture, Talia and Shiva released her.
"Your motives are reasonable." She concluded. "But how do you propose we should merge both groups that had such opposing views of one another? And how should mankind arm itself in preparation for any future threats?"
"I speak for my assassins that we won't be targeting Gothic's wealthiest, hopefully, your position carries the same level of authority over your owls." I told her in my cold tone. "As for the necessary equipment, We will be leaving that to the smartest man I had ever met."
My well dressed clone nodded. "I'm thankful for the confidence, Wayne Enterprises is already supporting the army with armaments that will make us the strongest nation on the planet." He removed his white mask and showed through his holographic screen some of his projects. "Soon enough, I believe we will be ready to stand on equal grounds against any visitors from outer space."
"Excellent." I remarked. "Henceforth, both the League of Shadows and the Court of Owls will cease to exist." From the middle of the courtroom I leapt at the Grandmaster's stage. "From their graves, The Court of Shadows is born!"
As I made my announcement, every single one of my assassins placed the inscriptions of my slave curse against their targets' backs.
"Long Live The Court of Shadows!" Everyone but me and my clone shouted. "All Hail The Dark Knight!"
And with that, I had expanded my group of assassins with the wealthiest of Gothic Metropolis.
And had debuted my third alter ego.
Perhaps I should consider keeping the talon initiative.
The Lazarus' pit will certainly continue having its utility beyond making serums and bringing corpses back to life.
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(09/02/2021)
*Hope the chapter is of your liking. If there's anything that you wish to ask, feel free to do so.
Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.
If there're any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.
** Sorry for the delay, I've been spending sometime with my family.
*** Check out my new fic, HP: Wizards and Demigods!