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

[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.

[kingofrooks]

A demonstration. Of course. Bruce's lips twisted into a frown even as the explosion came, and he had to throw himself back immediately, avoiding that wrist, that hand. But he didn't expect Ra's second move, and he felt his lungs throw up all of his air. But he didn't breathe in immediately, instead braving the dizziness in his head as he threw himself to the ground, away from the smoke, and rolled to the side.

Only when there wasn't any smoke in front of him that he took a shallow breath. Then another, while his hands groped in his belt for the rebreather, finally snapping it over his nose and mouth. He couldn't take a chance that the gas was a poison or a sedative of any sort - he had already underestimated this man enough.

At the same time, he stood up, and switched the night vision function of his cowl's lenses on. The smoke wasn't exactly smoke - it emitted no heat, so Bruce could see Ra's figure immediately, a beacon amongst the Darkness- and he was already darting forward. Moving down, sweeping his leg out to take out Ra's balance, while at the same time his hand shooting up to smash him straight in the solar plexus.

Whichever landed would land him in the advantage.

[dragonvariation]

Advantage was such a flighty thing.

Ra’s saw both moves at once, the smoke shifting around him, settling quickly. It wasn’t a heavy diversion-just a show for people who were too slow to do anything but stand there and blind stupidly as the bad guy got away. In this case it was a decided advantage. So, then, he had a choice. The knockout blow that would certainly take him down, stun him for a few moments, perhaps even fracture a bone if he didn’t guard it properly, or the legsweep that meant to take him down, perhaps slam his head against the pavement.

The latter was again the obvious choice, though Ra’s wasn’t big on crashing to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Instead he hit it like a street dancer, whirled around and curled his right leg around both of Bruce’s, hooked his right elbow into the ground and threw his weight and Bruce’s both toward the ground.

The idea was not to humiliate either of them, and it was clear that they were on close playing ground-no, the idea was only to make Bruce understand that if he intended to win against him it would not be here, hand to hand like children fighting in the street, it would be an intellectual victory.

Batman beat his villains into submission-he would not find Ra’s such a soft target. That was the only lesson that mattered here.

[kingofrooks]

No matter the lesson that Ra's was trying to teach, the one Bruce learned was something entirely different. He learned that this man was used to hand-to-hand combat; learned that he was faster than the Ra's al Ghul he knew, sharp-eyed and sharper-minded without the slowness that advanced age and immortality brought. There was no arrogance in him, not about this. Another human warrior, perfectly deadly in his knowledge of death.

Bruce gritted his teeth as his hips and back landed against the floor of the roof. He managed to keep his head from crashing down at the same time through sheer effort - his neck was going to be sore for quite some time. At the same time, he's reaching out, bunching the cloth of Ra's collar around his fist and pulling him even closer, until the noseguard of his cowl almost touched against the other man's lips.

Then- a single second. He threw Ra's off him as much as possible, aiming to toss him to the side like a sack of potatoes. At the same time, he drew his legs up, jumping upwards, using the momentum of that movement to step away at the same time that he throws a smoke bomb. A trick for a trick, though he didn't expect Ra's to fall for that. No- the purpose of that was entirely different.

To give him an avenue for derision and scorn. And in that one moment, a distraction for Bruce to take advantage of.

He was already rushing forward, a hand for Ra's throat to slam him against the wall.

[dragonvariation]

Perhaps another man would have smiled as he found himself face to face with the bat, tempting fate itseld. Instead Ra's exhaled so that the breath couldn't be knocked out of him when he was thrown aside. He rolled, finding his feet again on the floor.

Ra's didn't have any gadgetry to protect him from the gas, but he didn't believe that Bruce would knock him out--why would he? There was nothing to gain. No, he was confident that an attack would come through the smoke, and he dropped his hand, the wave-bladed Arab knife slipping into his palm, turned up so that he wouldn't stab himself or Bruce accidentally. As if.

Bruce came straight for his throat, shoving him hard against the wall two steps further back. He grunted - the shock of the impact went through him - aware that he'd been slammed just a little too hard against the wall. His head spun, but he had time to recover. The knife was where he meant it to be, slid so that the flat of the blade was against Bruce's thigh, his other hand up, wrapped boldly around the wrist of the hand that held his throat. That was a distraction.

He pushed the blade in - not enough to cut through the fabric, but enough to draw Bruce's attention to it - and closed his eyes, just for a moment. Breathing wasn't easy, but he could hold his breath for long enough, and he'd exhaled out of his own will.

"You'll have to get up earlier than that to get the jump on me, Bruce."

[kingofrooks]

It wasn't something entirely unexpected, that knife against his thigh- yet Bruce could not help the tiny intake of breath, as loud as a gasp between two men like them. But it was something involuntary, an automatic male reaction to having a damn knife pressed against his groin.

But his hands were already moving. Ra's had a knife on one side of the groin guard, so Bruce used the other leg to slam against his chest, steadying himself easily enough. His hands shifted as well, one reaching down to grab against the wrist of the hand holding the knife, the other twisting against the hand at his throat. He knew that the latter was a mere distraction - he barely felt the grip through the armour of the cowl - but he wasn't going to let Ra's have such an overt advantage over him.

One was enough.

"You'll have to use newer tricks for that to work," he said, and his voice was sharp enough to cleave through the air. Focusing around him rather than just on Ra's for a moment, he could hear it again- the softest flap of wings. An Icarus Winged was coming.

"I assume that you have heard the legends of Prometheus, Ra's al Ghul," his lips twisted, and the smile wasn't pleasant. "The eagle is coming."

And with that pronouncement, he took a gamble that his instincts screamed at. He twisted at the wrist at his neck, pulling it away from him, then threw himself backwards, directly away from the knife until his back hit the ground and rolled away, a hand slamming against the concrete. At the same time, he could hear it-

The shrill cry of an Icarus Winged that had spotted a prey, and was already diving in. Bruce refused to use his shadows to let him escape, instead moving back, swift like an eel through water, to watch.