I put a shield upon you, I didn't mean to hurt you--

[dragonvariation]

Who: Ra's al Ghul and you~
When: Mostly after sirens on Sunday night - but also one Saturday thread, and open for threads for the rest of the week.
Where: In the Darkness across the city
Summary: Ra's goes out to investigate the Darkness for himself--with a special interest in the people who go out to fight it.
Warnings: Violence and monster guts

Comments

[kingofrooks]

'An old friend'. An odd way to try to qualify their relationship; an odd wish to try to describe it at all. The Ra's al Ghul he knew had always been nebulous, both an enemy and the father of the woman he (had once) loved; both the man who had done the most harm in to the world and the grandfather of Bruce son. The man who would respect his nemesis, giving him the name of 'Detective' and proposing that he became his heir- and the despicable creature who would use his own grandson, stolen and made with that nemesis's flesh, as his new body. Who would dug out his brain and soul and replace them with his own. To live in his own grandson's corpse just to save his own life.

And most importantly, he was a man who was unmistakeably an immortal. His arrogance was one whose mortality had been ripped from him; who knew that he might grow old but he would never die. Death stopped meaning anything for him anymore, for if he died all he would need to do was to take a bath and he would rise from the water revived. Resurrections were plentiful and easy. An immortal who thought himself a god because he had access to the Lazarus Pits; because he had lived more than five hundred years.

This man was different. His arrogance burned hot, not cold, and there was a light in his eyes that no immortal would ever have. The challenge Bruce saw in them right now was one that he would've never seen in the eyes of the Ra's al Ghul he knew, simply because Batman might be his nemesis, but he was mortal- and hence never truly equal to him. No, this man- this man could die. This man had never known immortality; had never tasted the bitterness of the Pits.

He was a thousand times more dangerous.

"You might recall that, but I recall nothing," his lips quirked, and he confirmed it, laid it out in the open. I am not the man that you know. And, underneath, You are not the one I know either, unspoken beneath the silenced.

"But I doubt our opinions differ. The city isn't beyond saving." There was a soft murmur of approval from the city herself, but Bruce didn't listen too closely.

"Not a single person here is."

[dragonvariation]

"Saving. Look around you, Bruce. The people here live in fear of every night, and their lives are owned by the corporations by day. There is no benign company seeking to solve their problems for them, and no rumbling of revolution, only contempt for the few people who do try to exact change.

"And you are out each night and every night, fighting monsters who only multiply with every visit. An endless cycle, because the people you help never do learn to stay inside."

There were monsters here now, but Ra's was deeply involved in this conversation, and not in the mood to stop, even for a moment. His hand slipped into his inside breast pocket, and with a flick of his wrist he loosed two throwing stars into the night. They struck both creatures - low, cat like monsters - in the very centre of their foreheads, and they collapsed to the ground.

Ra's sighed, his attention returned to the bat.

"Even you must realise that your solution is an ineffective one. Eventually the man who fights to keep his head above water will drown. You must instead swim down and drain the sea."

Though he trusted Bruce to have sense in many things, this ridiculous belief that he could somehow overcome all of the world's problems by attacking them one at a time was the least sensible of all. He would have been able to turn that intelligence to something useful at the head of his men, commanding the League of Shadows. Instead he simply beat at them in the darkness like bothersome flies. Prioritising one person over the good of many.

[kingofrooks]

The sleight of hand caught his attentions just a little bit more than the the words. Words were common, a weapon that Bruce was used to seeing from this man. But the throwing stars... Ra's al Ghul commanded a league of assassins; he rarely dirtied his own hands, and when he did, he used a sword. Bruce had defeated him enough to know exactly how he moved, how he fought, and the weapons he preferred- and throwing stars were low on the list.

Another difference, then. There was something incredibly dangerous here. He was in danger of committing the same mistake with Ra's as he had with Clark, but there was nothing as easy with this man. If Bruce miscalculated, if he misstepped, if he misjudged this Ra's al Ghul's actions... it would be the city as whole in danger, not just himself.

He couldn't forget. If he had never became Batman, if his parents had never died, then Gotham would have a statue of Ra's standing on its grand, reaching up tall to the skies. He would be happy yet worthless, with rows and rows of graves for the other heroes, until Superman was the only one left.

It had never been just his own life at stake. Simply because of men like these- those who spoke of cleansing. Cleansing for the sake of the people themselves, committing genocide like cutting out an infected wound. Getting rid of people who was better off dead. Bruce's lips quirked, and he was amused, simply because-

"You sit up in your mountain, surrounded by shadows and assassins, and you know nothing." Softly, he spoke, without mockery, without harshness. Only pity- and in that pity, it was sharper than any anger could have been. "I might drown, but it is better than to have never swam at all. The monsters here have lived better than you have; the poorest resident have more courage - simply because they have lived, while you haven't."

He turned his back, took a step.

"Until you learn what it is like to be a man who spent his life's savings on improving the Darkness-proofing at his home, only to risk it all to open his doors to two children who had nowhere to go before their roof had fallen in and their mother was dead- then you can talk to me about any city or life not being worth saving." His head tipped back, and the white lenses gleamed in the Darkness.

"I don't think you ever will."

[dragonvariation]

Preferring weapons was all well and good, but Ra's had discovered after his first night here that he would rather fish the stars out of the brains of monsters killed from a distance than allow them near him 'alive.' There was an acid burn on his hand that attested to that. Necessity outdid preference, and he was on his own; the choice was not his to make.

He knew, though, that he had Bruce's full attention now, and even if he had contempt for his own Ra's al Ghul - as seemed likely by his sharp-toothed smiles, Bruce was treating him like a new enemy, an unknown quantity. Good. He would add to that unsurity.

"As we both know, you know nothing of my life. And you are wrong. I have lived. Lived, and loved, and lost. I have felt hope, and pain, and anger, for I was not always the Head of the Demon. I embraced the needy, and I even welcomed you into my home when you were lost. I helped you to help yourself bear the weight of your parents' deaths, and craft for yourself a mask galvanised by your own fear."

His expression was no less soft than it had been at the very beginning. Only his lips were hard; a thin, straight, unmoving line.

"A man who fights for hollow ideals is easy to defeat--a maniac, whose mind is only on results and cares not for the process. You know, don't you? I am purposeful, not insane. I have plans, and reasons for my actions; determination and resourcefulness that borders on your own. Tell me, Bruce, just how do you expect to stop me when you do not even understand who and what I am? What I stand for?"

[kingofrooks]

There it was: confirmation. It was certain then that he was dealing with a completely different creature than what he was used to before, and any expectations, any lingering impressions of the Ra's al Ghul he had known before would only make him stumble and falter. It would make him underestimate this man, who was more dangerous in his mortality, in his living, than the immortal Ra's al Ghul could ever be.

But then again, Ra's al Ghul himself had lived, before. Bruce knew his story; knew he started off as a poor doctor amongst the Arabic sands, compassionate and reaching his hand out to everyone who ever needed help, healing them with all of his might. But he had fallen in the end, his wife murdered, and he had found the Lazarus Pits later on and became immortal. He had lived- and Bruce was falling into the trap of looking for similarities. For the same weaknesses and thought processes that he could use, because he was perfectly aware by now that this man would be his enemy.

He turned around fully, showing the full attention that he was giving Ra's. There was nothing Arabic about his features, despite the name. He was without a doubt Caucasian, with bright blue-green eyes- Bruce darted forward, faster than a shadow's fall, and he reached out and pulled down the mask from Ra's face, hard.

"You assume that I don't," he was close to him, close enough to breath against his skin. Close enough to notice each aspect of his features. The man was certainly Caucasian- British, most likely. Perhaps even Irish. "For a man berating me about making assumptions, you seem prone to make the same yourself."

Then he was starting back, keeping an arm's length between the two of them.

"Pride goesth before the fall, Ra's al Ghul."

[dragonvariation]

Ra's could have prevented it; should have, in fact, to keep to his plan, but when Bruce lunged for him he did not move. His eagle eyes were sharp, fierce, and he regarded Bruce with something akin to - though suitably distant from - love. This was his student, after all. Different, no longer his student, but the lines that he had been able to draw told a clear story. It told him how close to success he had been. How powerful his influence over the Bruce of his world had been.

"I know the difference between my own Bruce and you. It is as clear as night and day, and he is the night. The darkest, blackest knight."

Ra's was moving forward, testing the limit of arms length that Bruce had put between them. One arm's length--that was all!? It was almost insulting, as though this other Ra's was tamer, or weaker, as though Bruce had not fully understood just what the differences meant. The boundaries he pushed, the line he drew at the distance of the dog's chain, was far too close. He was too bold.

"He had a choice; to save me or let me die. You would never make that choice, and that makes you weak. It means that - in what you think is a strength all your own - you lack the pitiless determination that he had; that I gave him. The pitiless determination of the Demon."

Pride goes before the fall.

Ra's raised his jaw, and all at once he snapped to the end of his chain, like a dog loosed from its master's hand, he closed the distance, caught Bruce's wrist and his ankle and swung his weight around, pushing him into the wall that he had been incrementally backing him toward, swinging him until his face was pressed to it, with Ra's face against his shoulder, his voice near his ear. Bruce's arm was twisted against his back, held fast, and Ra's was careful not to bring his head into range of Bruce's own, but still he hissed against his ear, let his breath taste the other man's skin.

"You tell me that I do not know you, but you're wrong. You are not half the man that he is, and that is why you will fail."

[kingofrooks]

Bruce hit the wall with a quiet hiss, barely feeling the pain as his head smacked against the wall. The cowl was able to absorb most of the impact, but more importantly, Bruce was more preoccupied with the fact that this Ra's was careful enough to make sure that he couldn't be headbutted. A trained warrior; one with much experience in the field. Not like a man who was a doctor in his life time and used others as his weapons- no, this man was his own weapon, and a deadly enough one at that.

But he had underestimated Bruce once more, and it was entirely careless too. Bruce had already showed him what he could do, and yet Ra's was pressing him against a wall as if the wall itself was an obstacle; as if it wasn't covered with shadows. Bruce's teeth glinted in the Darkness again, and he listened- listened that what Ra's said about his other self. He listened beyond the words and heard the pride there. A pride that was entirely different from the kind of pride one would have for an enemy.

No, this man- my own Bruce, that was what he said. Bruce hissed out a breath and he could almost laugh at the irony. He didn't know if they were from the same alternate world - there were so many - but the man he knew to be his best friend knew nothing of him, and the man he knew to be his enemy knew him far too help. That was the pride of a teacher in Ra's voice; the pride of having made Bruce Wayne to be what he was.

To be darkness himself. To be the Dark Knight. To be someone who would allow Ra's al Ghul to die, instead of saving him. Bruce breathed in, and he smiled, ever so slightly. Then-

He slipped into the shadows of the wall, melding within it. Immediately, he rose from the ground, his hands clenching onto Ra's shoulders. He spun him around, hard, and slammed him instead against the wall. At the same time, his forearm came up, pressed against his vulnerable windpipe through the black clothes he wore. His knee stopped between Ra's legs, their hips almost touching- stopping him from making a single move with his entire body.

This man was tall. Taller than he was. That, at least, remained the same. Bruce smiled, exhaling a breath through his teeth- hot against his skin. A complete reversal.

"Only fools think that I have anything to do with daylight," he said, almost conversationally, his arm still against Ra's throat. "The pitiless determination of the Demon," he mocked the words, "will never win against my resolve."

He didn't pull away, but his voice dipped further, darker. "That's what you share with him. The folly of never understanding that."

[dragonvariation]

Ra's had known the power, had seen it coming and allowed it. Sometimes winning was about giving up the ground, and in this case it was physical as well as mental submission. When Bruce fell through the shadow, Ra's let the next move come, found himself pressed against hard wall with the weight of Bruce pressed against his throat, his dark voice hissed against him in darkest sepulchre.

He said nothing. His eyes were bright in the dark shadows of the alleyway, and his hands were more or less free. Quietly he placed one at the very base of Bruce's abdomen, letting his fingertips run up over hard muscle, kevlar, expensive armour. The tricks had not changed. He found the target at the center of his chest, where criminals would aim and the armour was at its thickest, and he exhaled, calm, leant back against the wall and pinned ruthlessly into position, like an exhasperated lover.

He had said enough to make that same illusion questionable, and while he had no doubt about Bruce's determination to see his threat through, it was still only a masquerade. A distraction.

Now his scratchy voice, whispered with what air he could take and what words he could vibrate.

"You claim mortality, then. Immortals cannot have an iron resolve. It shatters eventually like old paper in the wind."

The hand rose higher, brushed Bruce's jaw, and he smiled darkly--and slashed violently at his chest with the waved blade that he had left concealed within his jacket.

"Unless something else cuts it first."

[kingofrooks]

Bruce's instincts were already screaming from the touch, and the moment he saw the blade glint in the light, he was already throwing himself backwards, so much that the tip of the blade only touched against his armour. Barely enough to split the top layer- so much that he didn't even need to sew it up later, simply because it would be hidden enough in the Darkness on most nights.

But that wasn't the important part right now. Bruce stepped forward again, immediately grabbing onto that arm and slamming the wrist on one side, pulling the wrist to the front even as he pressed the hand down. At the same time, he fought to find the other hand, pinning it on the other side of Ra's head the same way he had the first.

That was... unexpected. For him to carry a weapon, to wait until Bruce was caught offguard due to speaking and answering him to strike. But the edge of theatricality was still there, and Bruce could almost smirk even as he tipped his head up, looking at Ra's. The other man might be taller, but Bruce could loom over him, nonetheless.

"If you want to kill me, you have to try harder than that."

But he knew that Ra's wasn't. If he was, he wouldn't have bothered talking to him. He lead a League of Assassins - he would know the ways to try to kill a man while he was distracted, while his back was turned. Yet he only swiped at him with a knife while Bruce was facing him. It was a warning, a show, another step to the dance that they were doing.

He suddenly let go, moving back until he hit the other wall, keeping his eyes close on Ra's before he spoke again.

"I'm claiming the right to be unhappy," his voice was a low murmur, his words murmured. "I claim it all."

[dragonvariation]

The jolt of his pinned wrists against the wall was wonderful. Simple skill in the movements, speed and practice that Ra's knew almost as well as he knew the back of his hand. The methodology hadn't much changed, even if he perceived that Bruce had had a different instructor. Even so, there was an element of surrender there; of letting Bruce pin him without fighting - as he could have. An elbow to Bruce's windpipe, an ankle twisted around the back of his own, and he could be free in two single movements, and pinning the other man to the ground in only one more.

He didn't move. Instead he looked back into the other man's eyes, kept his gaze quietly and calmly, his own an ocean of tranquility.

The knife was a waved blade; middle eastern, and diamond edged. It was sharp enough to shave with--not that you'd want to. Sharp enough to cut through kevlar, or even the strong mono-filament of Bruce's cables. The single layer cut on Bruce's armour would serve as a reminder that this was no illusion, no dream. And that he could be touched. In fact it was a clear indication that the demon had reach, even now. He could have killed him with a single flick of his wrist, after all.

It was an understanding he knew they shared, despite Bruce's words.

"Bruce," he whispered, soft affection in the note of his voice. He did not move from the wall for a moment after he stepped back, the words of Aldous Huxley on his lips like a prayer. Silly, foolish man. "The decision to choose unhappiness for all is not yours to make."

Quietly he lowers his hands, tucked the blade back into his jacket pocket, and stepped forward, raising his hands out in front of him, open palmed and turned upright.

"We don't need to be on opposite sides. The Core, the Darkness, the corruption--I know you want it to end as much as I."

[kingofrooks]

That hadn't changed. The seductiveness, the gentle whispers, the falseness of surrender- all of which to try to draw Bruce to his side. Except this man had not offered his daughter to him - and could not, without her here - and Bruce knew better than to fall for that gambit now. There was still the unspoken offer between them- come to my side, and I will make you my heir. Worlds might have changed, but Bruce Wayne was still the one man Ra's al Ghul would recognize to be worthy of him, his bloodline, and his mission.

It was almost a pity that Bruce wanted nothing to do with any of that. His lips quirked slightly, arms drawing around his own chest. Deliberately hiding the slash in his armour. He knew that Ra's would not interpret that move to be fear, but defiance. Ra's might want to prove Bruce's mortality or even the Demon's touch- but with just one movement, Bruce could erase that.

He shook his head.

"I have heard that speech enough times to be tired of it, though at least your words are different." His lips twisted slightly, tipped his head forward and looked at him. The intensity and strength of the look wasn't undercut by the cowl's lenses at all- quite the opposite.

"You don't wish for an end to the Darkness and the corruption, Ra's. You wish for an end to everything." He turned, starting to move towards the mouth of the alleyway. "It is nothing but a coward's way, to lay your arms down and give up rather than fight."

It was pure arrogance that gave him the words, mixed with the knowledge that if this was the man he knew, he would incense him quickly enough. "I don't ever take the easy way out."

[dragonvariation]

Ra's looked him in eyes with the storm's calm in his very gaze, and brushed his jacket closed, watching the other as he walked away. The words were meant to irritate him, but Ra's only dropped his hands into his pockets and walked after him.

"A good warrior knows how to choose his battles, Bruce. You call my methodology cowardice--it's no more that than your own."

He stopped in the mouth of the alleyway himself, rolling his shoulders back. He would go no further unmasked.

"I already know the kind of man that you believe I am. I can hear it in your condescension. A coward; a man who is impatient, unqualified to bear the responsibility of his name. Intelligent, yes, but not wise. Perhaps even nothing but a terrorist." He tilted his head. "I am more warrior than terrorist, Bruce. Ra's al Ghul has watched over the world, interceded when necessary, brought new growth where only the ancient limbs of dead trees towered before. I do not do it for myself--and that is where we differ."

Now he took his hands out of his pockets, motioned to the city at large with one hand. He still stood casually, his eyes reflecting the bare minimum of light, and yet pale, as though he were merely a ghost.

"You cannot tell me that the things that are happening here are natural. That you don't wish to stop it." A pause, and he inclined his head. "After all, you didn't actually refuse."

[kingofrooks]

It was always convenient for someone to spell out what you wish to know in their own words, Bruce mused, only half-sardonic. His lips were twisted into a smirk as he looked at Ra's, and he knew this was something they shared - a strong belief in what they're doing was right; and incredible ability to twist their own words and shape their thoughts such that logic itself bowed to their actions. To see all perspectives of a situation, perhaps, but accept none but their own to be valid.

But then again, he could say that about himself. The only difference, perhaps, was that he was perfect aware of what he was doing. Was Ra's, he wondered.

"Not refusing is different from agreeing," Bruce murmured, and he didn't turn around. He had the pieces in his hand, and he knew that this Ra's had almost managed to pull the Bruce he knew to his side. That man was darkness, darker and weaker than Bruce was himself- simply because he had let Ra's die. He had let him die, rather than save him.

Bruce's lips flattened into a line, and he tipped his head back.

"You said you are different, yet your arguments are still the same." A beat. "There's nothing natural about burning the city down. Any way that you try to justify it will just be your own arrogance." He knew that to be true. The city herself knew that to be true.

"I don't have all night to stand here and pay attention to you."

[dragonvariation]

Information was not only a courtesy but a necessity. It was important for him to draw lines, to make it clear that he was neither the same animal, nor to ever be compared to him. He was more than that, and he deserved the respect that came with it.

"Arrogance it may be, but it is something we have in common, Bruce."

And they had so much in common--all but the barest of essentials, in fact. One thought seperated them, and yet trickled down into their every actions, motives and activity alike.

Ra's believed in death where it was necessary to accomplish a goal. Bruce believed in the sanctity of all life, even scum. From there, their whole moral system was built, and it was what made this Bruce different from his own. His Bruce believed that good men should not be allowed to die. The subtle difference in creed was what allowed him to turn a blind eye to Ra's impending doom--to not save him.

"To encourage new growth, the sick and the dying must be beaten down and burned; even primitive cultures know that. Even you do. It's what you did when you created Batman, building in the ashes of yourself and your family. To accomplish greatness, there must always be sacrifice first."

Ra's stopped speaking, and there was the gentlest sound of movement; muted and soft but for the tiniest creak as the fire escape took his weight, and the briefest scuff of fabric on brick. When he spoke again he was on the rooftop above. But there was another sound too. The drip drip drip of water or blood or saliva on tarmac.

"Never turn your back on me, Bruce. It is a mistake that you do not make twice."

Three huge Darkness dogs, their muzzles open and drooling, stood where Ra's had been only a moment before. It was a lesson.

[kingofrooks]

It was almost amateurish, on both sides. Bruce tensed immediately at hearing the dogs, at seeing them out of the corner of his eyes. Immediately, he ducked downwards, slamming his hand against the floor- not a moment sooner, because that was when the dogs decided to strike, all three of them leaping at him, their mouths open and teeth gleaming in the meager light. Bruce hissed out a breath, moving into the alleyway. He knew he could just use his shadows and snap the dogs' throat by appearing behind him.

He didn't.

Instead, he threw a simple bomb - one of the new ones he made, based upon the sunlamp he had made Clark, once. Sunlight exploded when it touched the floor, and the dogs howled - sharp, piercing wails, and Bruce immediately ran forward, fearless. One hand gripped onto a dog's throat and slammed it into a wall, cutting off a wail midway- at the same time, he noticed that the thing was already half-fading away. Only half, because when the light from the bomb disappeared, it snapped right back into living.

With three of Bruce's fingers trapped within its flesh. Bruce hissed quietly, and ripped his hand out, pulling the dog's spine out along with his hand. He was going to smell of rotting Darkness for the rest of the night- but that wasn't important, because the two other dogs he had neglected were leaping upon him again.

Turning, he threw the corpse of a dog straight at one of them, the one closer to him. Its jaw snapped around its fellow Darkness creature, busying itself with the fading flesh while Bruce went after the second dog. He had a batarang in his hand, using it like a dagger. The dog leaped upon him and Bruce threw himself almost literally to the side, a foot against the wall. Another step on the wall and he somersaulted down until he hit the ground on his back, sliding- the movements fast enough to throw him right underneath the dog as it leapt towards where he was just a second ago. Bruce reached up, grabbed onto a throat, and shoved the batarang right through it.

Two down, one more to go. Then the bigger fish, on the rooftop.

The last dog was angered by its disappearing prey, and Bruce looked at it for a long moment. He didn't move, waiting, waiting... and as it attacked him, teeth gleaming, he grabbed the batarang on the floor, left behind after the second dog's death, and shoved it right into the open maw of the dog. Then, he pulled it out, spinning away- leaving a trail of Darkness-blood behind even as he shot a grapple gun up to the roof. The batarang went back to his pocket, and he kicked off, spun, and landed on the roof.

"For something you despise, you used it readily enough as a weapon."

[dragonvariation]

Ra's found the rooftop easily, though the noises from the street below would no doubt attract others to join them. He waited, observed, with both warmth and apprehension, knowing that Bruce could fight the Darkness easily by now and wanting to observe him in practice. He was much better than the man he knew; experience went behind his actions now, and there were no tells, no mistakes. It was fluid, like water, even though at times it still seemed as though he had a lot to learn about the medium he fought with.

It all happened in less than seven seconds, and then Bruce was beside him again, his attention back on him. Ra's only smiled, turning to face him.

"I needed a demonstration," he offered, softly. "If I wanted to kill you, we both know I wouldn't leave it to chance."

There was an explosion then, a dense, cutting smoke, enough to cover either an escape or an attack. It was the latter that came, Ra's turning his hand up so that his wrist, with all the force and staggered strength of his arm behind it, snapped up through the smoke toward Bruce's face. It wasn't the only attack; whether it failed or worked, Ra's swung with his elbow too, kept moving around to push his right side underneath Bruce's chest and jabbed violently forward to knock the wind out of him or force him to stagged back.

There was no time to think about attack of defense, it just was.