Working, working, working

While Cassandra rested up at his apartment, he headed over to Wayne Manor. Work was work. As much as he wanted to stay and cuddle, he had a deal with Bruce Wayne and Batman. He wasn't about to break it.

Plus, judging by her temperature and exhaustion, it would take Cassandra twelve hours to recover. He could be back before she opened her eyes. Before he did, while in the middle of his taxi ride, he texted Hadiyah.

< Aaron: Watch the cameras at my building. Cassandra is there.

< Aaron: Make sure she is safe.

He glanced out the window. Gradually, they were reaching the outskirts of Gotham. The reply came less than a minute later.

< Hadiyah: Of course.

< Hadiyah: Angel Whore, Shiva and Talia want to talk to you about the ritual. They say the League of Lazarus have agreed to see you at their island.

< Aaron: I'll be there tomorrow morning.

'So it's almost time.'

The League of Lazarus weren't a threat, not like the Assassins or Shadows. Think of them as administrators, led by Ra's al Ghul's immortal mother. Aaron snorted at the thought. Just how old would that woman look versus how old was she in reality? He suspected that she would be much younger than she appeared. The Lazarus Pit, according to Talia, could halt one's ageing body.

The history of the League of Lazarus was interesting. Originally, they were formed by Ra's al Ghul in order to find other Lazarus Pits. However, at some point, perhaps during the 18th century, Rúh al Ghul took charge of the organization and turned it into a religious cult hellbent on worshipping a demon. She claimed the pits were inhabited by a demon, a statement that held some truth to it. As a result, Rúh and her League devised tournaments every century in order to offer the demon a champion. A sacrifice. A body.

A war was sparked when Damian Wayne participated in the tournament. The League of Assassins and Shadows joined to crush the forces on Lazarus Island. Indeed, it was a crushing victory for the joint group. Despite holding the home advantage, their inferior training weighed them down and the members of the League of Lazarus were subjected back to their original goal. Rúh had **** but to obey.

Mother Soul, Rúh was called. She was a sickly woman in her mortal days, plagued with haunting visions of the future. After her son revived her with the magic pit, she fell further into depravity and occult nonsense. She thought that the demon residing within the Lazarus Pit would be the saviour. She claimed to have seen it: the end of the world as well as the Chosen One.

Rúh was wrong.

The real Chosen One stepped into the bustling kitchen of Wayne Manor, his chef's coat neatly pressed and his apron tied securely around his waist. He spotted Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson engaged in a conversation near the centre island.

"I dunno, Babs. You're…glowing. Somehow. You're happier, you know?"

"What do you mean by glowing?"

"I just mean, like, you got, like, a warmth about you. Like a Lite-Brite."

"There's no warmth and no glow, and I'm not a damn Lite-Brite."

He could hear Barbara rolling her eyes. Aaron thought that would be the ideal time to insert himself.

Barbara sat in her wheelchair, her vibrant red hair pulled back into a ponytail. As soon as she caught sight of him, she flashed Aaron a warm smile.

"Good morning, Aaron," Barbara greeted cheerfully. "Ready to work your magic in the kitchen?"

Aaron returned her smile. "I do my best, Barbara. What's on the menu today? Any preferences?"

"Not particularly. As long as you make it…" Eye contact. Barbara's gaze flicked to her feet. "...I'll be great."

There was a tingle between the two. A hidden thrill at what they had done last week. A jolt of ecstasy that wouldn't wash away. Barbara adjusted her glass while Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets.

Totally unaware of the atmosphere, Dick chimed in. "Actually, I have a request, if you don't mind."

"What's up?" Aaron asked.

Dick leaned on the table, arms crossed and mouth splitting into a grin. "One of my teammates–you might know her–is coming for dinner. Care to take a guess?"

Aaron glanced at Barbara, who shook her head and refused to give a hint, then went back to Dick. By process of elimination, there were few allowed to have dinner at Wayne Manor with Batman's consent. "Err…Starfire, your girlfriend?"

"Bulls-eye!" Dick finger-gunned him. "Starfire is joining us for dinner tonight. She recently mentioned she wanted a taste of home and so…I come to you! I need your expertise to recreate it!"

Aaron's eyebrows rose at the challenge. He rolled his wrist around. "An alien dish, huh? That's quite an honour. Dick, do your best to describe it to me, and I'll see what I can do."

Dick's face lit up, his hands gesturing animatedly as he attempted to convey the intricate details. "Alright, Aaron, listen carefully. I only saw it once when I went to her planet but it's called G'rubbish, a traditional Tamaranean delicacy. It's a mix of stardust-infused alien vegetables, lightly sautéed in starfire oil, with a touch of Zarkonian spice. And it's all topped off with a garnish of Nentharian star petals."

"Stardust-infused vegetables, starfire oil, Zarkonian spice, and…Nentharian star petals?" A feverish nod from Dick. Given the look in his eye, he must have known how ridiculous his request sounded. "Right. That's quite the, uh, inhumane combination, Dick. I'll need to tap into my creativity for this one."

A LOT of creativity, because what the fuck were those ingredients? He didn't have the faintest clue how you could replicate it on Earth. Stardust? Like from an actual star? What kind of diet did Starfire's species have?

Dick's puppy dog eyes were impossible to resist, however. With a weary sigh and a chuckle from Barbara, he got started on the impossible task.