~ The Target ~
Ra's Al Ghul and Talia had quite a few files on the Batman. Some of the places he trained, his identity, his past, his butler, his butler's past, and the kids he took in over the years. Even DNA samples!
Ra's was more interested in his strength and ability to take over the League of Assassins and continue his work. Talia was less interested in that but still kept up to date. She had plans on how they could use his company to help the League take control of the world. Those documents were new, dating after Ra's and Damian passed.
Rather than a twisted version of doing what's best for the world, Talia flat out wanted to rule it.
On any other day, that would concern Daire, but after her baby brother's death, she could understand whatever pain their mother must be in. Not that she showed it. But surely she was mourning. She lost her father and son.
Daire pushed aside her mother's plans, focusing on her assignment. She went through every file the League had on the Batman. She also surfed the internet for articles on both Batman and Bruce Wayne. There was a lot about him, for both personas were famous, but Daire was a quick reader with an excellent memory.
It took a few hours, but Daire finally finished going through everything. She stood, stretching her unused muscles before shutting down the computer and heading out.
She wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do, but she knew she needed to move. Sitting for long periods of time made her want to move. She was used to contact movement and had a lot of built up energy just waiting to be released.
What better way to get rid of excess energy than to work out?
Daire walked into the training room, spotting Damian's clone by the punching dummy. With amazing accuracy, Clone landed a series of punches on the dummy. If the dummy wasn't bolted to the floor, he would have knocked it over.
Daire cleared her throat, trying to hold back tears. Clone looked so much like Damian (for obvious reasons) and it made Daire's heart ache at the thought of her brother's untimely death. He would never grow up, into an adult like Clone. He would have been such a handsome young man. He would surely have the looks to get anyone he pleased. With some work on his people skills, he would be quite the charmer.
Clone turned, his breath heavy with exertion.
Daire stepped forward, pointing out the few mistakes she saw. It wasn't much, but that much was to be expected from Damian or his clone.
She pointed to the spot on the dummy. She curled her fingers into themselves but not her palm. Using the nubs, she jabbed certain parts of the dummy.
"Rather than using blunt force, a quick series of jabs at pressure points will have your opponent breathless in seconds. Even the strongest man alive has pressure points. They always work. Some people can take a punch, or many, but every body has a weakness."
Without hurting him, Daire pointed out the places on Clone. He nodded, something she didn't recognize swimming in his eyes. He had had this look before, Daire had noticed.
Daire stepped back, letting Clone get into his stance.
"No," she stopped before he started. "You're form is off."
He frowned. "No, it isn't."
"For this style of fighting, yes it is. Here." She moved his limbs as she saw fit, which was odd to Clone. "I know that a tank like you won't be taught this, but I think it's important everyone learns this. Who knows, you might someone who uses this technique? If you know it, you can block it. Lean on your toes, knees bent a bit more. Not that much. There you go."
For Clone, the position felt strange, less sturdy. But he kept it. As instructed, he jabbed the dummy in quick thrusts.
He looked at Daire, who was shaking her head. "Good, but you don't need so much force. You can seriously hurt someone if you use that much force. You need some force, yes, but not much."
He narrowed his eyes. They were assassins. It was their job to hurt people.
Daire seemed to sense his confusion and smiled. She didn't comment on it but kept teaching him. Clone knew he preferred her teaching methods. They were strange, ending in less bruises and broken bones, but it was nice. She was gentle, kind, and patient with him. He enjoyed her company.
He went through the series of movements until Daire nodded and stepped in between him and the dummy.
"Good. Very good. You're a fast learner," she complimented.
He nodded, liking but not sure how to respond to the comments only she gave him.
A wave of sorrow flooded her. She whispered, "You're just like him."
Clone didn't need to hear anymore. He knew who she was talking about. He also knew his original was alive. Seeing Daire hurt like this made him want to tell her the truth. Such a kind girl didn't deserve this pain. But he knew Mother wouldn't approve. Besides, he was greedy. He wanted Daire to stay.
She straightened herself then leaned into a fighting stance. The same one he just learned. "Fight me."
Clone blinked. "What?"
"Fight me."
"But-" he remembered her earlier words, taking fear from them. "What if I hurt you?"
She smiled. "I'll be fine. I grew up here. I'm used to pain."
He burrowed his eyebrows together. It was nice to hear the truth, but the truth also had a dark twist. How could Mother be so cruel to Daire? She was kind and gentle and nice. She wasn't like anyone he ever met, though that wasn't saying much.
"I don't want to hurt you."
Daire kept smiling, her eyes relaxed. "Don't worry, Clone. I'll be fine. Fight however you want."
Though he was skeptical, he sunk into usual position, striking first. Daire was quick and light on her feet. She had dodged the blow with ease. Clone blinked, picking up some slack. He had taken it too easy on her.
He threw another punch, gasping when Daire sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and began to flip him over. She stopped a moment before he should've been lifted off the ground. They paused for another moment, then Daire released him.
"Again."
Clone got back into his familiar stance, know full well he could beat Daire even without the new moves. She was right, they were nice to know, but he wasn't like her. He was bigger and stronger.
He lounged into another punch. She dodged it, but wasn't expecting the immediate second punch. His fist collided with her chest, bordering her neckline, and sent her flying back.
With anyone else, Clone would have continued. But not with Daire. He was sure he had hurt her. He lowered his stance, eyes wide. But Daire wasn't affected as much as he thought. She pushed her hand against the ground, doing a one handed back hand spring and landing elegantly on her feet.
"Good," she coughed but didn't slow. She charged at Clone, making him hastily put back up his guard. She threw a series of quick jabs at him. He barely managed to dodge any, but he knew Daire was taking it easy on him. She wasn't hitting the exact pressure points. Or not all of them, at least.
But she was right, he was out of breath and sore within thirty seconds of her assault. When she jumped back, his limbs felt heavy and he panted.
She was patient, letting him catch his breath.
His shifted his stance into the new one, the one he just learned. Daire shifted, too, her stance seemingly sturdier, her eyes alert.
This time, she struck first.
Clone's instinct was to jump back. His mind automatically swung his arm to block the attack, knowing where the attack would be. Daire gave him a quick nod before striking again. This time faster. The pattern continued, her slowly increasing speed, until he had problems blocking her attacks.
Then she bounced around like a kangaroo. When would press her fingers against a new pressure point but not jab him like she should have. She showed him dozens of new pressure points around the body. He was almost surprised at how many weaknesses the human body had.
Daire carefully explained the importance of blocking certain series of jabs, which had potential to leave one temporarily paralyzed. Gently, she went through the motions, gently tapping the places he should always be weary of.
She taught him a few other tricks over the next three hours of constant training. They only stopped twice for water breaks, and both were sweating by the time Talia entered.
"There you are," she snapped. "I thought I told you to get the jet ready."
Clone realized the time, body tense. "Yes, Mother. Sorry, I forgot."
Mercilessly, she slapped him. "I don't want excuses." She turned to Daire. "And I thought I told you to learn everything about my beloved before you left."
Without emotion, Daire responded, "I did."
Not wanting to face Talia's wrath, Clone left when she started questioning her daughter.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
Daire arrived at dinner late, with a limp and a few bruises on her exposed skin. Clone widened his eyes in shock. He knew it wasn't him who left those marks.
Daire sat down beside Clone after getting her food. She was unusually quiet, keeping her gaze downwards when Talia entered a minute later.
Clone felt a wave of something, but he didn't quite know what it was. He knew he didn't like seeing his sister like this, and he knew he was mad at his mother for hurting her. But what could he do? If he couldn't beat Daire, he surely couldn't defeat Talia.
Instead, he kept quiet, carefully watching Daire as she ate her single roll. It was the only food she received, probably by her mother's orders. Talia was strict and didn't take failure well. She was especially harsh on her own child, whom she expected perfection from.
He knew it all too well, but it was in his blood to be perfect. It was why he was created.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
Clone knew something was wrong with Daire. He didn't know how or why he knew, but he knew.
He walked down the halls, searching for her room. She had taken her old room, but it was right next to his original's old room. It was also near Mother's room.
He stopped outside Daire's room. He kept silent, knowing he would get in serious trouble if Mother caught him. She hated the weakness of emotions.
But he had to know if his sister was okay.
He raised his hand to knock then froze. There was a weeping sound coming from the original's room. Damian's room.
Quietly, he opened the door, whispering, "Daire?"
She sniffed. "Yeah, Clone?"
He opened the door further. "Are you okay?" He honestly didn't know why he asked, but it seemed right. She was crying; she wasn't okay.
"Yeah, I will be," she assured, sniffing again.
Will be? So not now?
He came all the way into the room, shutting the door behind him. It was dark but his eyes were adjusted. A single candle flickered near the bed.
He looked around. Other than a small layer of dust, the room was in perfect condition. The area around the bed was dust-free. Daire's doing, no doubt. She once told him she wanted to leave the room just how Damian left it, despite the plain-ness of it all.
"Do you want someone to talk to?" Daire had told him talking to someone was nice and helpful. She told him it took this invisible weight off one's shoulders.
"S- Sure," she hiccuped.
Clone made his way over to the bed, sitting at the foot, beside Daire. She clutched the hard pillow, digging her nose into it. He heard her inhale deeply, then pull away to let out a quiet sob.
He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he hated seeing his sister like this, all sad.
"Sometimes, talking about something helps," Daire had said.
"Will you tell me about him? About my original? About Damian?"
She shook her head. "Don't call him the original. You may have the same DNA, but it doesn't mean you're any less real. Identical twins can be very different." She peered up at the fully grown version of her baby brother and tears sprang to her eyes once more. "You look so much like him," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut. "But yeah, I'll tell you about Damian."