DC: The Man And The Hood Chapter 33: The Glowing Pit

We arrived at the opening where the light was coming from—a cavern deep beneath the earth with a glowing pool of green water radiating in the near distance.

We stopped about three ters from the pool. Questions buzzed in my head, but the geezer just stood there, staring at that ominously glowing water like it was his long-lost lover.

It looked like sothing out of a kid’s cartoon—one of those witch’s brews, all neon and swirling, except this wasn’t so muddy sludge. The liquid was clear, almost too clean.

Wait, is this his secret to not looking like a thousand-year-old mummy? So fancy-ass well of longevity elixir?

I crossed my arms. "So. Why are we here?" I asked, unsure of his purpose for taking an injured kid down to a secret location with a mysterious pool of water.

With a sudden halt, a thought ca to mind. “Don’t tell you have an aquatic beast for a pet and it’s inside that green pool.”

Ra’s turned, his robes doing that dramatic sweep thing he probably practiced in a mirror. "This, my boy, is a restorative pool. So call it the Fountain of Youth. But it is known as the Lazarus Pit."

"The Lazarus Pit?" I muttered. "You an this is the magic bathtub that yanked back from the dead?" It looked nothing like what I had imagined.

"Yes, it is." He crouched, dipping his fingers into the water like he was testing a damn bath.

I scoffed. "When you and Talia talked about the Lazarus Pit, I always imagined—well, an actual pit. So murky, ancient hole filled with magic sludge that could heal the dying." My voice dripped with disappointnt. "This looks more like a hunted jacuzzi.”

Ra’s ignored the jab. "Remove your clothes and enter." He adjured.

I blinked. "Excuse ?"

"You heard ."

“Of course I did.” I guess I’d just pretend that didn’t sound kinky at all.

I threw my hands up. "Oh, sure. Because obviously the next step in ‘mystical resurrection water’ protocol is stripping down. What’s next, a guided ditation? Do I get a cucumber slice for my eyes too?"

He didn’t even twitch. "The waters must touch your skin directly to work."

Grumbling, I peeled off my cloths, tossing it aside. "If this turns out to be so weird cult baptism, I’m setting sothing on fire."

As I stepped forward to dive in, the water shimred ominously, reminding of the eerie depths that might hide the Flying Dutchman—an image stuck in my mind since that strange afternoon at a roadside diner. Back then, during so relentless "reckon training" the old geezer had forced on in that no-na town, I’d caught a bizarre underwater sponge show on the flickering TV, and the comparison now had a haunting image.

The water was warm as I stepped in—one foot, then the other—sinking deeper until I was fully subrged. The glow pulsed around , casting eerie shadows on the cavern walls.

So… what now?

Then it hit.

Fire exploded through my veins, like my blood had been swapped with molten tal. My muscles locked, my lungs burned—

With a choked gasp, I burst out of the water, scrambling for the edge like the pit itself was trying to drag under. Ra’s stood there, holding out a towel like this was all playing according to plan.

Not even gonna ask where the hell he pulled that from.

I snatched it, wiping my face. "What the hell was that?"

"The healing effects of the Lazarus Pit," he said, like that explained anything. "How are your wounds?"

"What about my wou—" I cut myself off.

I shouldn’t have been able to move like that. Not with the cracked ribs, the stitched-up gash on my side—

Slowly, I raised a hand, pressing against my bandaged torso. No pain.

I ripped off the wrappings. Nothing but smooth skin.

"Huh." I prodded the spot where a knife had gone in a week ago. "I feel… okay."

Ra’s just smirked.

"The location of this sacred pool is known to only a few," he said. "rely being a mber of the League does not grant you this privilege."

"Hmm, I see." I rolled my shoulders, testing my range of motion. "I gotta admit, it’s fascinating. But–why?

Why show this sacred place and let use the pit to heal my wounds?"

He studied for a mont while stroking his beard, before answering.

“Think of it as a welcoming gift into the League.” He replied, clasping arms behind his back as he turned towards the pool.

“There are people who would kill and exhaust all sorts of resources, if they believe that it might give them access to the Lazarus pit.”

“Can’t say I am surprised by that, people would do anything for the power to sustain life. But that doesn’t answer my question, why ?” I pressed on.

The damp air of the cavern clung to my skin as I unwound the last of the bandages from my torso. The faint, eerie glow of the Lazarus Pit cast flickering reflections across the stone walls, painting the chamber in shades of erald and shadow.

Ra’s al Ghul stood with his arms clasped behind his back, his silhouette frad against the luminous waters. His voice was smooth, almost amused, as he spoke.

"Welco to the League, boy."

I flexed my shoulders, testing the absence of pain. The wounds that had plagued for days were gone—vanished as if they had never existed. The Pit’s power was unsettling, intoxicating.

"There are also n who would burn cities to ash if they believed it would grant them a single drop from these waters," Ra’s continued, his gaze fixed on the swirling depths. "Power over life and death is a rare temptation—one few can resist."

I smirked, rolling my neck. "No one wants to die, especially when you are rich and powerful. People will do anything to cheat death."

“Thanks for healing , Ra’s Now I can get back to training or at least sleep comfortably.” A hint of excitent mixed with my voice.

Ra’s turned his head slowly, the movent deliberate, predatory. His lips curled into sothing that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Oh, don’t thank just yet, boy." His voice was a low purr, laced with dark amusent. "The real work begins now."

I raised an eyebrow. "That sounded more like a threat than a pep talk."

His chuckle was velvet and venom. "Call it what you will. You won’t be smiling for long."

I matched his tone with a grin of my own. "You miss training , don’t you? Admit it—you’ve been bored without around to keep you entertained with my daily dose of torture disguised under the term, training."

Ra’s exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "Enjoy your humor while it lasts. You’ll need it." He stated as we approached the cavern' exit.

As we ascended the stairway. The air grew cooler as we neared the surface, the weight of secrecy pressing between us.

- - -

"As you must already know," he began, his tone like tempered steel, "The location of the Lazarus Pit is a secret that transcends life and death. You will guard it with your last breath. Should you ever betray this trust, the consequences will be...absolute."

The air thickened, pressing in like an unseen hand around Jason’s throat. This wasn’t a request—it was a decree. The Demon’s Head did not make idle threats.

Jason t Ra’s’ gaze without flinching, though the gravity of the mont settled deep in his bones. "I understand," he replied, his voice stripped of its usual defiance. "You have my word. No one will hear of it from —not even under torture."

Ra’s studied him, his dark eyes unreadable. For a heartbeat, Jason wondered if the ancient warlord saw his resolve as ‘weak.’

But then, with a slow nod, Ra’s turned away, the helm of his robe whispering against the false wall as he repeated the previous process as their ti of entry.

With practiced ease, Ra’s pressed his palm against an unremarkable section of the wall. A chanism groaned, and the false panel swung open, revealing the training grounds beyond. Sunlight spilled in, harsh after the Pit’s eerie glow.

Outside, the clash of steel and the grunts of combat filled the air. Damian led the drills with lethal precision, his movents a mirror of his mother’s relentless grace. Talia observed from the sidelines, her sharp eyes missing nothing—until they landed on Ra’s and Jason erging out of nowhere and unto the training ground.

"Father," she greeted, though her voice carried an edge of wariness. "I didn’t expect you to join us today." Her gaze flicked to Jason, lingering on the absence of bandages, the lack of a limp, or even a sight of a bruised skin or scar on his face.

"You’re healed."

Ra’s clasped his hands behind his back, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "The Pit’s waters work swiftly."

Talia’s breath hitched, barely perceptible. "You showed him the Pit?" The question was a blade wrapped in silk.

"He needed to be at full strength for what cos next."

Jason shifted, the weight of the unspoken tension pressing down. "Yeah, about that—where exactly are we going?"

Ra’s didn’t look at him. "Pack for a week. Wilderness survival gear. Weapons of your choice. et here in fifteen minutes."

"You didn’t answer the question," Jason pointed out, crossing his arms.

"Consider it a test of adaptability," Ra’s replied, already walking away as Talia followed close behind.

- - -

Talia waited until Jason was out of earshot before stepping closer to her father, her voice a hushed whisper. "You’ve never entrusted the Pit’s location to an outsider. Not even to Bruce."

Ra’s exhaled, slow and asured. "Jason Todd is no longer an outsider, daughter. He is a weapon being forged by the League—one that must be honed without cracks."

"And Damian?" Talia’s gaze flicked to her son, who was now drilling two League assassins at once, his strikes fiercer than necessary. "He sees Jason as a rival. This will only stoke that fire."

"Good," Ra’s murmured. "Fire tempers steel. Let him chase Jason’s shadow. It will make him stronger."

A League operative approached, bowing as he presented a ticulously packed rucksack. Ra’s took it without acknowledgnt, his attention fixed on the horizon.

Jason returned monts later, his own bag slung over his shoulder, a knife strapped to his thigh. "Alright, Sensei. Lead the way."

Ra’s arched a brow, tossing the heavy bag for Jason to carry. "This isn’t a vacation, boy. You will train until your muscles scream. Until your mind breaks. And then—you will train more."

Jason grinned, sharp and feral. "Yeah, yeah. Just try to keep up, old man."

As they strode toward the gates, Talia watched them go, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger.

"Be careful, Father," she murmured. "That one bites."

Ra’s didn’t look back. "So do I."