I am created Shiva // By Scriviner

I am created Shiva
Timfinity fic challenge by Scriviner
Rating: PG (for implied naughty doings and casual discussion of murder for money)

Summary: Tim Drake never went to the circus as a child. He never followed Batman and Robin's careers and now he's found himself in the hands of the one whose career he did follow.

He lay on his bed in a sweat. He knew she would come tonight. Pretending to sleep did nothing for him save to wind his stomach into tighter knots.

She had to come tonight.

He kept his eyes closed, lying flat on his back, his arms outside the sheets, as he felt the slight change in his room. Someone had opened the door. Someone who was moving completely silently. It would've passed the notice of anyone else, but his senses were working at a fever pitch waiting for her and he knew she was there.

He had a speech prepared. He knew what he was going to say. Except now that the moment had arrived, he'd blanked out completely. Nothing. He couldn't remember a single word that he intended to say.

He felt her glide into place next to his bed. She was looking at him. He could hear the silences of her breathing. He wondered what he looked like to her. A thirteen-year-old too short and skinny to be a threat? Just a faceless victim? Or did she see him as nothing but a conglomeration of weak spots and vulnerable points?

It was now or never. He swallowed, preparing to open his eyes and declare… something. He couldn't remember his speech anymore, but he had to say something or it would be over before he had a chance to see her again.

"I know you're awake, little boy," she whispered in a voice that seemed to carry into every corner of the room.

His eyes snapped open and he found himself saying the first thing that came to mind. "The Gotham exposition. Seven years ago."

She was half hidden by the shadows of his room. He could see the lower half of her face. The slender curve of her neck and he watched the play of muscles in her jaw and shoulder as she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side as though remembering. "What about it?" she asked.

"That's where I first saw you," he replied, still watching her, "My parents took us there to see Albert Ogata. He was giving a speech about African cultural unity when you came out of the crowd."

He saw her lips quick slightly. "Yes, little boy. I remember Ogata."

"It was over so quickly… it just looked like you touched the side of his neck, then the next minute you were back in the crowd." His eyes were growing misty with the recollection. "You moved like lightning. No one got a good look at you."

"Except you. The boy with the ice cream." One hand flashed out, touching his chin, raising his face up to the light.

"You remember?" he murmured around her grip on his jaw. A grip he realized could quickly be turned into a crushing one. This close he could smell her. Jasmine and something he couldn't recognize.

"I remember every detail of a kill," she all but purred, "You had lost some of the ice cream down the front of your shirt. You were afraid of me."

"Yes… yes, I was. But you smiled at me." His voice faltered. Closer now, he could feel her breath on his face and a faint blush passed across his features. His heart was already racing, his breathing in shallow gulps even as he tried to hold himself perfectly still.

"I did at that," she conceded, "Is that why you hired me to kill you? An elaborate ploy to see me again?"

He could only nod as fresh embarrassment flushed his face crimson. "Yes… and no."

Then she did something that perplexed him. She threw her head back and laughed. He knew it had been a bad idea. She going to kill him through humiliation. Maybe the embarrassment would kill him before she did… but no… no, that wouldn't be right.

He found his voice slowly, hesitantly. Unsure of how she would take his words. "My mom and dad were never here… and now they're dead. I'm the richest kid in this city and I have nothing to live for. But you. I could afford your fee, and no one really checks your age online. I want… no, I need you to kill me."

"Clever." Her tone turned teasing for a moment. "How did you know to contact me?"

He shook his head. "I… I tried to track your movements after that first time. I found out who you were, where you were; I tracked each kill-" he tried to salvage some of his tattered bits of dignity by pulling out his journal, but her hand seemed to simply disappear from about his throat and reappear clasped around his wrist. The hold was almost unbearably painful as she flipped his pillow up with her free hand and pulled the leather bound journal out.

She flipped through the pages, and he could see the amusement warring on her face with alarm. Another long tense moment passed and she turned her full attention in his direction.

"Little boy, how did you-"

He spoke hurriedly, his words coming in a tumbled rush, "I saw patterns. I read news reports and checked the internet. I hacked into police and Interpol reports. It was easy. I… I knew when a kill was yours. You kill in certain ways, even when you cover up, the cover ups are done in a certain fashion as well. I know why you did Ogata in public, even though you could've gotten to him earlier."

"You…" she hesitated and he realized that he had managed to render her speechless. "You're an admirer of my work." The amusement had slid back into her voice. There was also an odd note of wariness.

"Yes. Absolutely. I've… I saw perfection that day seven years ago, Lady Shiva."

"You are a flatterer, little boy." Her voice was flat and he felt her hand on his shoulder, moving up to his neck. "What do you know of perfection?"

He tried to keep his own voice level. To meet what was coming with some dignity. "Not… not flattery. I just never saw anything like it."

"You wish to see more don't you? I can see it in your eyes, my pet, even if you claim you want to die. You do not have the eyes of a killer. Yet. In time, perhaps." His only answer was silence as she tightened her grip around his neck. "Perhaps one day you might even be the one to kill me? Would you like that, pet?" Her voice had dropped once more to a breathy whisper, teasing, seductive. "Would you be the one to take my life?"

He closed his eyes then, he could feel it now. Death closing in as breath became harder and harder. His heart was hammering fit to burst free of his chest. He had no reply for her. None that he could speak coherently. None that would make sense to him. She was going to do it, his thoughts exulted. She was going to make him a part of her perfection.

Suddenly the pressure was released and he coughed, sucking in lungfuls of air as he leaned back against his headboard.

"I will be back, my pet, my little Timothy Drake. I want to see what you will grow into. You are… an intriguing one." With those words she seemed to melt back into the shadows, and Tim found himself alone once more.

***

She did come back. Sometimes she spent days with him in that lonely mansion or she would vanish for weeks without a word. He lived alone except for a few part-time servants. The courts believed he was under the supervision of an uncle, but there was no such person. He had created his fictional uncle to leave him his independence.

The more time he spent with her, the more he learned. Not only of her and of the world in which she lived. Assassinations, underground fighting circuits, murders and death performed in seeking the perfection of her art.

She was an artist to him. Her canvas was death and motion, but even as an artist, she needed to have the stage set sometimes. Over months he slowly took upon himself little tasks on her behalf. A bit of research here, a bit of judicious hacking there, an untraceable bank transaction or two, flights arranged to and from faraway places. Bit by bit Lady Shiva came to find her beloved pet an invaluable resource. She realized that even with his tender years, the boy was a genius. One of a rare few who could become talented at whatever he turned his mind and will to.

In her silent and subtle fashion her visits to Timothy's home became lavish productions. She would always appear unannounced, unheralded, and yet he would always be expecting her, having tracked her movements and her kills. She would regale him with tales of her travels and her adventures. Though coy by nature, Shiva found the boy to be an eager and receptive audience. Every new death, every slaughter was listened to in exhaustive and loving detail.

In her turn she took an unexpected delight in the young man's fascination with her and her art. She took it upon herself to teach him. It was sometimes difficult to explain how one drove a man's jaw into his braincase without demonstrating the move. The ways to move unseen. The means to cripple a man using only the fingers of one hand. To leap rooftop to rooftop trusting to nothing but one's own skills to keep from doom. He was a quick study. He had already taken some basic martial arts training early on and that meager foundation had been enough for her to build him into magnificence.

It was exhilarating for both of them. Shiva had taken students before, but not like this. Not an apprentice in her craft, for she realized in time that that was what he had become to her. It was a year into their association before she asked him if he wished to come with her. Without hesitation, her young Dragon as she'd taken to calling him had answered yes. The Drake mansion was mothballed and without a second glance the young man joined his mentor on her journey.

They traveled through all manner of rough territory and he quickly learned to handle himself with remarkable aplomb. Once she'd goaded a bar full of Hell's Angels into a confrontation just for the pleasure of seeing him take down two dozen huge angry bikers, each almost three times his size, with just his bare hands. By then the beginnings of the perfection in his form were so obvious that they had actually managed to share a laugh over it after he had calmed down.

It was not until another year and a half had passed before she realized that she had taught him all but one final thing. She made arrangements with a few contacts. A few discreet inquiries later, they flew to Hong Kong and indulged themselves in fine living for a while, but finally, Tim noticed a certain wariness in his Lady.

"Something wrong?" he asked one evening after they'd spent prodigious amounts of money at the night market.

"Nothing is wrong, exactly, my little dragon. I have received word that someone to whom I owe a small debt requires the removal of… a bit of unpleasantness here in Hong Kong." She spoke casually while nibbling on a flaky pastry, curled up comfortably on the large hotel bed.

"Do you need me to do any research? It shouldn't be any problem for you, right?" he asked, smiling slightly, full of laughing confidence in his mentor.

"No, no research, my acquaintance was quite thorough in the information he gave me. It should be all rights have been fairly simple, but there is a bit of awkwardness."

"What kind of awkwardness?" Tim asked after a moment, watching her thoughtfully.

"The sort that involves another debt. I am considering which takes precedence, as I once swore to the target that I would lift no hand against him." She said it with a practiced, casual air. Would her little dragon rise to the bait?

He was silent for a moment, as he turned in his seat to contemplate Hong Kong's skyline. "My lady," he said, slowly and cautiously, as thought fearing her taking offense at his next words. "Let me do it for you. I've already done what I can to ease your burdens, let me take the burden of this decision from you."

She lifted one eyebrow, regarding him coolly. "Would you do this for me, my little dragon? It is a simple kill. A businessman of some small local repute but heavily involved with the local drug trade." She shook her head. "Would you presume to claim a kill meant for me? It would not feel right to send another in my place. After all, we couldn't let it be said that Lady Shiva has taken to sub-contracting her work. My clients have always expected a certain degree of professionalism from me."

"A level I would be more than happy to meet." He held up his hand to her, opening and closing his fist a few times, letting the tendons stand out as he flexed it. "It will be as though you did it yourself. I know your styles and your patterns better than anyone living. I could change the forensic evidence to make it look like you did it yourself."

"Still, it is not I who shall deliver the blow."

"Oh, but it will be," He said, rising to his feet, a confident smile now playing on his lips. "Let's face it, my dear Lady. I am your weapon. One you have created and honed, but left unused. As I strike the blow, it will be as though you yourself struck it for you have."

"You have not lost your eloquence in your time with me, my little dragon." She said, more pleased than she let on at his quivering eagerness.

"If anything I have grown in eloquence, my lady," he replied with a small bow. "Let me take the kill in your name. Your honor will be untroubled and this business will be resolved."

"Very well. The file is on the desk. You should have enough there to complete it tonight. Complete schematics of the building, his schedule and a photo of the target. His name is Edmund Dorrance."

"The name kind of sounds familiar," he murmured as he moved to open the envelope on the desk. He was skipping parts of it, he knew, but he was quivering with anticipation at the chance to serve her.

Lady Shiva simply smiled.

***

It was two hours later when Tim finally remembered where he'd heard the name before. He leaned heavily on one of a dozen carved marble columns in the middle of the large penthouse of Edmund Dorrance's building. The room was lit only by the moon and the few broken constellations that the Hong Kong skyline could provide.

His right side was on fire and he was certain at least one of his ribs was broken. His right shoulder was dislocated and every movement, every breath brought a fresh taste of pain. Yet he had won. Or rather, he hadn't died, which at the moment seemed good enough for him.

Behind him came soft, seemingly mocking applause. He closed his eyes wondering if the blood from his other wounds was leaking through the black kevlar bodysuit he'd worn for this excursion. "Shiva…" no Lady this time, he felt that he had somehow been tricked, but didn't quite want to believe it. He could only really blame himself for not looking deeper into the information, but a petty part of himself still believed she had somehow done this to him. "Why didn't you tell me that Dorrance was the King Snake?" He kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see her. Didn't want her to see his shame.

"One in my- no. Our profession learns to deal in the unexpected. You performed admirably my little dragon. Although, your carelessness did cost you."

"Careless- He's the most dangerous man alive! The King Snake's killed hundreds of men with his bare hands!" he snapped, looking up at her, but she was hidden in the shadows. Despite the pains in his body, he felt his heart begin to hammer faster once more. She looked just like she did that night she came for him in his home. The scent of jasmine tickled his nose.

"And now you have done the same to him." She paused and from the meager light he could see the play of a pleased smile upon her face. She looked positively radiant. "The most dangerous man alive is a title which you could now rightfully claim."

He grunted, trying to stagger back to his own two feet. Unwilling now to seem weak or petulant before her. He managed, but swayed, before moving slowly and heavily towards the shattered window. He knew it then. Pride. She was proud of him. He would be damned if he let her down now.

"I could only see some of the fight," she admitted, her feet leaving a silent trail behind him as she followed. "He was a blind man who fought in the dark. You were in his element, he shattered your nightvision goggles almost immediately. How did you defeat him?"

"He relied on his hearing to locate me. I held my breath. Threw something in another direction to distract him. It was just long enough for me to get behind him and use the earclap move you taught me in the Ukraine."

"Ah, yes. So you burst his eardrums… that was when he caught your arm, I gather?"

He nodded. "I had to break his nose next so he couldn't smell me either and he caught me a good one on the ribs then." He stepped gingerly over the broken glass of the window. He felt the wind caress him and despite the pain, he could feel something had changed. It was odd. As though his body was not enough to contain the beating of his heart.

"I saw that last one. You paid him back for the ribs, then broke his knee before you kicked him out the window," she continued approvingly.

"Just one last thing now." He said as he looked down to see Edmund Dorrance, the King Snake dangling by his fingertips from the window sill.

The man called up to him, desperate pleas for help, his voice high with terror despite his huge frame and Tim finally began to appreciate the enormity of his accomplishment. Alone, unarmed, with less than a half hour's preparation he had faced down the most dangerous man alive and bested him in single combat. Unbidden a savage smile came to his fifteen year old face and he wished that Edmund Dorrance could see, so that the last thing he would look upon was his killer's face. That's what he was now. Or would be in a few seconds.

He was conscious of Shiva's gaze at his back, of the pains of his body… but he realized what had happened. He had never felt so alive. Hearing Shiva's stories, those second hand tales of death were nothing compared to this one moment. Every sense seemed to leap to life within him as he pressed his foot down hard on the King Snake's fingers and gave it a savage twist, crushing the fingers and making him lose his faltering grip.

He turned to her and he could see the moon shining in her eyes as she watched him. She took him into her arms, mindful of his ribs and his arm, then leaned down to grant him a sweet, lingering kiss. "You are mine now, my dragon. The most dangerous man in the world. How does it feel."

"I feel… alive," he murmured in breathless wonder.

"Of course you do, beloved. You've slain the King Snake in his castle. They named me Shiva, for the Destroyer. You my dragon… perhaps they will call you King Dragon. Would that please you?"

"It's a bit grandiose, isn't it?" He blushed faintly and could feel his dizziness increase. "How about Grendel?"

"Appropriate. You have devoured all I've had to teach you and demanded more. Perhaps one day you shall devour me." She leaned in to claim another kiss, her hand drifting up his back. "But no, I think perhaps I shall call you Shakti. Shiva's many-faceted consort, for that is what you are."

He was already having trouble remaining conscious, but her statement caught him by surprise. He managed a crooked smile and murmured back, "Many-faceted, or consort?"

She smiled back and replied teasingly, "This kill is yours. Your first of many. You have proven the former, there shall be time enough to explore the latter."

He felt the last of his adrenaline drain away, "Yes. I could live with that."

The last thing he heard before he finally slumped into her arms, even as he felt her caress his cheek in lingering, intimate way. "Rest then, beloved Shakti. When you awake, I have so much more to teach you."

***

They stayed together after that, but she left him alone more and more. Every so often sending jobs his way until finally his own reputation stood on its own. In short months the name of Shakti, or Lord Shakti was whispered with fear and awe as one impossible target after another died at his hands. Wealth was secondary, thought useful. He charged dear, but took the occasional assignment that intrigued his sense of righteousness or just for the challenge. He specialized in the most difficult targets, the ones hidden behind layers of security. He would pass through them like smoke and leave death in his wake. Clean, precise, perfect.

He criss-crossed the globe on his assignments. No one really paid much attention to the boy as he went from country to country. If any law enforcement agency believed the underworld rumors that Shakti was simply a child, they could not bring it out into the public for fear of being laughed at. But Tim was laughing all along. In six months he had amassed a reputation almost as feared as Shiva's herself. His last job in Amsterdam where he somehow managed to kill a vacationing French CEO while in the midst of a crowded bacchanalia was becoming the stuff of legend. It might've become a legendary embarrassment had Shiva not given him appropriate training in other arts.

He also took up Shiva's tendency to keep track of the best martial artists on the planet in order to face them. Unlike her, however, once he defeated them and if he found their skills to be great, he would spare them and encourage them to train harder, for one day he would return. One memorable encounter with the latest Robin amused him so much that he allowed her to live after only breaking her collarbone. He found her moderately attractive, but certainly nothing to compare to his Lady.

Shiva still found time to visit him. Sometimes spending the night together, other times, simply a note and some flowers dropped in one another's bedrooms. He missed her often, but he realized that she was letting her dragon stretch his wings.

Out of nowhere, she sent him an urgent message. He had to meet with her in Gotham, at his home there within two days. He didn't know what it actually entailed, but he dropped everything, subcontracting his kill in Hong Kong to a hired gun he knew by the name of Floyd.

He still owned the property, but the earthquake that struck Gotham a year back had left the place ramshackle and in danger of collapse. He made it on the day itself to find Shiva sitting tailor fashion in the center of the now empty living room.

She smiled, rising to greet him. "Beloved Shakti. It is good to see you again. I see that travel agrees with you."

He smiled back, always surprised at how she made him feel like the teenager he was whenever he saw her again after a long period of separation. "I've been worse. I've missed you."

"Likewise." she took a step closer and kissed him lightly on the mouth, before taking a step back. "I believe it is time."

"Time?" He asked in surprise.

"Time for me to fulfil my first contract with you, my dear dragon."

"First contract…" was all he managed to say before he found himself stepping to one side, bringing his hand up to brush the straight kick that she had aimed for his head. He tried to use it to imbalance her, but she had taught him that counter, and she knew the counter for it. They exchanged blocks and blows in silence, all breath given to the combat rather than wasting it on quips and conversation. Theirs was an elegant dance that would only be ruined by speech.

One misstep by Tim on a broken board gave Shiva a momentary advantage. She slipped a stiffened hand past his guard, breaking one of his ribs, but he managed at the last moment to catch her arm between a scissors of his hands, shattering her forearm. They broke apart and their eyes met.

"Why, Shiva? Why now?"

She smiled delightedly at him, using her unbroken hand to wipe away a fleck of blood at her lips. "Why, my darling? Tonight marks the third anniversary of that first contract. You know I always fulfill my contracts."

"But why now… why after everything we've-" His breathing was ragged as he stared at her. The emotions he saw at play behind her eyes baffled him. She was not angry at him, as he thought, but there was amusement, delight, even an animal hunger lurking there. Despite their time together, her behavior had him completely confused.

"Because, that night when I saw you … you were a child, but a child with potential. I could see it in your eyes. Now you are a man. A man I created, perfect in every way that matters to me," her smile turned savage as she dropped suddenly and rolled into a low kick at his shin. He saw the move coming and leapt over her while she continued to speak, "I was not wrong, about your potential, dearest Shakti. I have trained for many years, yet you have caught up with me in a mere handful. In another year? I have no doubt you shall have surpassed me." She rose smoothly and looked at him over her shoulder, almost coy, teasing and inviting, despite her broken arm hanging limp at her side. "I am at the pinnacle of our profession, but I have gone as far as I can in our art. I have a duty to it, one I know you understand, or I did not do a good enough job training you."

He understood. Just as he understood that night of his first kill, it came to him as an epiphany. "I can't do that!"

"You can and you will. You have a killer's instinct tempered by your own genius and hard work. You are my right hand, my weapon. Honed and created by my hand." She raised her unbroken hand and licked her lips. "It is my desire to see if I have forged true, or if my weapon is flawed."

"Should your weapon be flawed?" he asked slowly, already knowing the answer.

"Then you shall die as our contract states." She replied simply and leapt for him attacking with a feint from her extended hand, before using her broken arm like a club to batter at him. He staggered back from the fury of her assault. He felt his shoulder separate, but he could deal with that. The pain from landing the blow was telling, she had slowed ever so slightly, but he was likewise losing steam. The broken rib threatened to pierce his lung if he kept moving, but if he stopped moving she would kill him. He played the odds and moved. Her motion continued smoothly, pivoting on one leg to drive the other into his midsection, her free arm ready to drive two fingers into his eye once he dodged away.

He had moved to the side, but not the one she'd been expecting and brought up his own dislocated arm to smash hard on her extended leg, catching her off guard with her own trick. It was enough of an opening… just barely enough as he took another step forward, gritting his teeth to keep the agony of swinging his injured arm around from stopping him completely. He moved without thinking, instinct from his training kicking in. He did not want to kill her, he normally had enough control not to, but her earlier answer had told him what he needed to know. He was her creation. He could not afford to have flaws. All thought left as he extended his arm, driving two knuckles into her throat, crushing her windpipe. The move was intended to punch through the neck and shatter the victim's spine at the same time, but she managed just barely to roll with the blow, falling hard onto her back and driving the last of her precious air out of her body.

The blow was fatal, but not instantly so, since she'd blunted it. He stared down at her. Her body broken in the moonlight, the adrenaline high was winding down and he began to feel the pain of his major injuries, as well as a host of smaller ones begin to intrude. She was smiling at him, his mind thought incongruously. She must've been in horrible pain from the broken arm, leg and crushed throat and yet her eyes held no pain, only pride... and fond affection.

The weapon had passed its test.

He knew she was slowly choking to death, and knelt down beside her. He leaned in close, kissing her gently as he held her unbroken hand. She mouthed a word to him as he brought his hand up to the center of her chest. It was a word that was a name and he understood. He slapped her chest once, hard. It drove the last of the breath from her body and shattered her sternum, driving fragments of bone into her heart, stopping it before the mind could register the pain.

There were tears in his eyes as he closed hers, the smile never having left her face. He stayed with her body for long minutes making his silent goodbyes. Finally, Timothy Drake, now Lord Shiva, rose to his feet and left the ruins of the Drake mansion.

END