The warrior stood proud, despite his wounds.

Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head, looked at this hobbled, pained creature.

"There is only one reason that you have sought my attention."

"And there is no reason you should deny me."

Crippled, yet undeniably forceful. The desert warlord decided on the diplomatic route; patience was a luxury he could frequently indulge.

"Yet I see no motivation."

The warrior produced a device, and a holographic image filled the room.

A Ship. Large, utilitarian, powerful.

"It is in orbit around your moon. Hidden. It's crew will recognise your authority on my command."

A murmured conversation with an aide in contact with moles within one of Europe's Deep Space monitoring facilities confirmed this display.

"You understand that the Pit may not fully heal your injuries?"

"I understand your delays."

Ra's stood to meet the warrior. Power without patience. Dangerous, but might be useful. And to be honest - even without this reward literally dangling overhead, he was curious to see what would happen.

"Let us begin."

The warrior overlooked the Lazarus Pit.

The Demon's Head savoured the caustic scent it threw off. A long acquired taste. With the warrior's condition, he couldn't appreciate - or suffer - the fumes.

The warrior slowly, steadily threw off parts of his clothing, mostly armor, as he strode into the simmering alchemical cauldron of acids and poisons. The perfect balance to tear apart the body on the molecular level and rebuild it again. Of course, you normally lowered the dead or very nearly into the fluids as entering it while conscious was extraordinarily painful - even while perfectly unconscious you leapt out the instant you were reborn, stark raving, gibbering homicidally mad.

More pieces of armor floated to the surface as they were shed from the subject deep below.

Ra's had dismissed his attendants, and personally oversaw the Pit.

After all, he had never seen someone stay alive in the Pit as long as this one before.

And he knew the warrior was alive as the Pit was boiling and churning all the while. But he had never seen the Pit's levels lower like this. Understandable, as the warrior's wounds were most grievous. How much of the Pit did this warrior need?

Or maybe was drawing into himself?

The Pit was slowing, reducing to it's normal simmer.

But the caverns in the pit were shaking, despite the area's geological stability. The only reason Ra's could guess at was some kind of outside force...

The warrior surfaced.

All clothing, armor and apparatus shed, he rose. And hovered above the surface of the Pit.

Marvelling at a whole body. Undamaged eyes widening in wonder, then exaltation.

"It appears you have survived, My Lord-"

Something forcefully pushed him ten feet away to painfully impact on the cavern wall behind.

The warrior smiled, a long unpractised action as his eyes slowly turned a dark red-yellow.

Speaking, breathing with his own power.

"Vader."

Maybe curiosity should not be readily indulged.

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