[ Post a Response | Role Play Board ]
Posted by Batman
on 6/15/2009, 10:40 pm, in reply to "Memories & Nightmares"
97.83.159.13
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“Huh,” he grunts, shifting in the bed slightly and closing his eyes, “too bad.” We suffer in the silence for a few moments more before Elliot continues to speak. “This isn’t going to be the end of this, you know. I’ll keep coming back. You know that.”
I nod my head, “I know.”
“Even if it’s not me,” he pauses for a second, catching his breath, “someone else will claim the title. Someone will keep Ghul’s legacy alive. Maybe…” he winces as he points his finger at me, “maybe it’ll be you.”
“Maybe.” Casually, I look to his IV drip and notice it’s in need of replenishing. “How many splinter cells of the League remain?”
He slowly shakes his head, “Next to none now.”
I’m not sure if I can believe him, but I keep asking questions. “What about Talia? Did she know about you?”
His sadistic smirk returns, “Detective, no matter what I say, you’ll never know what to believe, will you?” He coughs and groans in pain as he does. “We both know that. Lies or truths, it almost doesn’t matter.”
“We both know I’ll be out of here soon.” He continues on, “It’s almost like fate. We’ll be back at it, fighting like some thugs in an alleyway.” He smiles, the thought obviously giving him some sick sense of comfort. “That’s our fate. To our deaths.”
I nod, disappointed in his answer. I walk to the nearby table and slide open one of the drawers. I take out a small box with a combination lock on it, but a few quick spins pops it open and I retrieve a small vial from it before walking back beside the bed. Elliot’s eyes wander around the cave and a puzzled expression comes over his face.
“Where are my men?” He asks, his eyes finally settling back on me as I attach an adapter onto the end of the vial. “This place is too small to store them, and you couldn’t have used Arkham or Blackgate--”
“The Watchtower.” I respond, focusing on the vial in front of me. I can tell my honesty is surprising to him. I fumble for a second, almost dropping the vial as my hands turns sweaty. I take a breath to calm myself. “Justice League headquarters.”
He nods his head, “Impressive. It’ll be hard to get them out of there.” He takes a steady breath before zeroing in on what’s in my hand and querying about it, “What is that?”
“Your medicine.” I respond, grabbing his IV line and connecting the vial to it. Slowly, the crimson liquid spills out and mingles with the liquid already in the tube as it travels down towards Elliot’s arm. I swallow hard, feeling my stomach roll over and my hand quiver before I force it into a fist. This is a lot different than it was with Ra’s or Kaine.
His eyes intently watch the fluid enter his bloodstream, “What is it exactly?”
“A concoction I made up a long time ago.” I reply, turning around and walking back towards the nearest table. My voice is soft, but I force it to become louder. “It was after Alfred Pennyworth’s death. I’m sure you were around Ghul during that time.”
“I was.” He replies honestly and I turn around to see him still watching the toxin enter his system. “I remember Ghul’s lieutenant Kaine did the deed.” He pauses for a moment, no doubt organizing his thoughts. “As I recall, you killed him.”
The images and memories flood my mind, and I let them, even as I continue to speak, “In my anger, I created a toxin from someone’s work whose name you may recognize: Jonathan Crane. I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say, I created something he’d be quite proud of.”
I take a breath and grab the cowl that lies on the table before walking back towards Elliot, now attempting to prop himself up into a sitting position. With his left arm, he reaches over to yank out the IV, but my arm shoots out, grabbing his wrist and slapping a pair of handcuffs on him, pinning his hand to the bed’s railing.
“If I ever used it, I planned to use it on Ra’s.” I take a step back, noticing the beads of sweat popping up on Elliot’s forehead. He struggles against the handcuffs, but it’s no use. “I was too angry and grief-stricken to destroy it and never got an opportunity to use it.”
“Wh-what’s it doing?” He stammers, the sweat now pouring down his face as his breathing becomes more and more labored. The beeping from the heart monitor increases more and more, but I turn off the noise with a flip of a switch. “I… I…”
“Hush. You’re going to be seeing some strange things.” I talk slowly and calmly, though I know Elliot’s hearing something else entirely. I slip on my cowl and take my time putting on the gloves. He lets out a shriek as I do, no doubt seeing something much more bestial and terrifying than a simple man with a mask. “Your heart’s not going to be able to take it.”
I reach back and retrieve my cape and wrap it around me, causing another yelp from Elliot. I take a step forward and he screams and rolls away, tumbling from the bed and crashing to the floor, taking some of the nearby equipment with him. I grab the table and forcefully shove it out of the way and march on Elliot, who crawls away, babbling and crying uncontrollably, dragging the table he's chained to with him. I feel a knot tighten in my chest, but I defeat my hesitation with a few simple memories: Alfred’s death, my final battle with Ra’s, Alex Grayson’s death… the memories spur me on. They give me the strength to finish.
“You said death is the road to awe. You couldn’t be more wrong.” I growl, getting Elliot to let out a howl. I spread out my cape, casting a menacing shadow over his body as he desperately crawls backward, the toxin in full effect. “I want you to deliver a message: tell Ra’s to stay dead this time.”
~~~~~
My silence annoys her, I know, but she’s used to it. I crawl back into bed, breathing in the Himalayan air that drifts in through the open balcony. I drift to sleep, and unlike the sleep at Wayne Manor, I do not dream of inevitable murderers or formidable killers. I simply sleep.
When I wake, Talia and the child are gone downstairs. I rise and walk out to the balcony, soaking the sun that’s already high in the sky. Down below in the massive courtyard, dozens of men practice various martial arts and fighting styles, some with weapons, others simply hand-to-hand. This is the remnants of the League of Assassins. This is Talia’s legacy, and with my help, my own. I have already declared myself their master, and based on my example, they have followed me. My presence here assures me that this cabal will never threaten me again. After all, it was Ra’s al Ghul and his League of Assassins that took Alfred Pennyworth from me…
~~~ Now ~~~
I find a suitable victim just a few blocks away from Crime Alley. Slipping him a twenty-dollar bill, he was reluctant to give me his clothes, but another twenty and he would have done anything I asked. I take just his pants and coat, both of which slip on easily over my uniform. The smell reeks of garbage and feces, but within five minutes, I’m used to it.
I play the damsel for nearly an hour, stumbling in the back alleys and running into the other unfortunates of Gotham City-- only a couple notice the cowl underneath the hood. I know little about the man I’m after, other than his taste of victims. After a while of this masquerade, my patience pays off as I hear a shuffling from the shadows. I turn from the dumpster I’ve been picking through—being careful to keep a solid façade—and see a silhouette appear from the darkness.
“Your kind disgusts me.”
I keep my head low to disguise the cowl that hides underneath the stained hood I wear. The figure steps out from the shadows and into the dim light of the alley. He wears a uniform that looks more suitable for a wrestling tournament and a domino mask that barely covers his face, which reveals plenty of scars, which unsurprisingly look like burn marks.
“Who are you?” I keep my voice high and scared. My eyes focus on the man’s forearms, where two small gauntlets are wrapped around from his wrist to his elbows. The device reminds me of the mutant Pyro, but that’s not who I’m facing.
“You can call me Scorcher!”
* * *
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