The Heron and the Crane
Alexnandru Van Gordon
A new chapter for my other stories will come up, but both my sisters and my close cousins wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote this. I and I really mean they wouldn't stop bugging me, in the sense that they kept stealing my computer disks and deleting files I saved onto the computer until I agreed. Cilian Murphy played an insane psychiatrist very well and his part as Scarecrow was well done in Batman Begins. But if you remember what Gordon said at the end of the movie, half the crazies and Crane were still on the loose…
THIS IS NOT A POEM! I start it off with one though…
SUMMARY: It's time to play and Crane still isn't caught. Ra's Al Ghul hasn't finished what he started and he's not about to let any of his "partners" slip free just because of a little set-back…
DISCALIMER: Do I own them…I'd have to double-check, but I'm sure I don't…Just joking. We all know there's no possible way I could even own Batman Begins.
CHAPTER ONE: Aftereffects
There was a poem he remembered, one that he learned when he was young. Leaning against the side of the building, steam rising from the gutters in the dark of the night, his mind wandered back to the words just for relief…just to forget the situation he was in now.
The heron and the crane, what a day—what a day
The silly sun just doesn't set
"If you start to fly, I'll come close behind
And this I shall make as a bet."
The crane thought it long, the crane thought it hard
"And why would I fly not a noon?"
"'Cause I have a plan that will rise in the stands,
And the world comes to end all too soon—
"If I fix the sun, then you fix the moon
I promise you this, old dear crane
The earth will be free from the honey and bees
And all of us left will be sane."
A nod and a thought and away went the crane
To do as the heron had told
But when it was done, still broken the sun
The heat waves the feathers it scorned
Wounded and bleeding, the crane went to hide
Lost in its fear of the light
But the heron was mad and decided to stand
And wanted to put up a fight
Long ago the sun tried to destroy the old bird
Blinding with rays of its life
The earth was afraid and with the sun stayed
Away from the heron's old strife
But vengeance and fear and the end was so near
The heron went after the crane
To finish what started, the shades to be parted
White from the black and the gray
What a true tale it was…He wondered if someone wrote it after the League of Shadows had destroyed other nations. Maybe it held that secret message, a repeat of everything Ra's Al Ghul was up to. If so, he hoped to God he wasn't the crane. He was broken…insane…and that powder Ghul gave him brought him nothing but trouble. Well…the moon was all the people in power, the earth was Gotham, the heron was Ghul, and the sun could only be the big bad Bat that ended everything.
God he hoped Ghul was dead…Ghul held a grudge like no one Crane had known before. Crane remembered talking to him once over the phone after the news that Bruce Wayne wasn't dead after all. Ghul made a comment along the lines of 'he burned down my house—I burn down his' and hung up promptly. Crane still had no clue what that was about, but, later on when he found a newspaper on the ground, there had been an article on page eight about the drunken Bruce Wayne burning down his own mansion. The bastard was lucky he was a billionaire otherwise that would cost him too much of a pretty penny. Lucky indeed…
He had other things to worry about.
He had no idea how he accomplished it but he made his way off Arkham Island and into the city. He stayed one night hidden in an alleyway and then moved the next night to an abandoned apartment. His was partially blinded from the zapper that Rachel girl shot at his eyes, but the mask protected him more than what he thought possible. Nevertheless, he had no idea how he escaped that one night and slid away unnoticed.
Tripping into the old building, he made his way blindly into a small dark room and leaned his back against the wall. Pulling the mask off his head, he dropped it to the floor before sliding down and sitting, bones aching and muscles burning in protest of further movement. And no matter how many times he tried to open his eyes all the way it wouldn't work. All images were blurry—shadows, really, with a bit of colour…
Sighing in defeat he hung his head forward and closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do now—nothing he could do for a while. The moment he was found he would be locked up in Arkham as a permanent resident, a crazie like the rest of his old patients. Gotham would catch the rest of the crazies and "Batman" would go home happy knowing he had saved a rotten city. Was the man insane? Dressing up like a flying rodent was one thing, but trying to stop someone like Ra's Al Ghul was plain suicide. It had been all over the news—not to mention Ghul would be back for round two sooner or later.
God, he hoped the man was dead…The newspaper, or what he could make of the bold headlines, stated that the train was found but no bodies…
But wishes, he learned long ago, never came true. When he was younger he wanted his father to either leave or die, a hard man who brought his cane across Crane's shoulder blades if the boy didn't get A in every subject. He was a lawyer and that would account for most of his hate toward the current justice system. His father's clients were always innocent men condemned to a life worse than death or rapists and murderers who were set free from his father's hard cases. Then the rest of his hate came from those drunken and twisted fools who chased him as a boy down the street on his way home from school or to the corner store to buy something for his mother. No one who deserved to die died, and anyone who deserved better than what they got only seemed to drop farther from society's so–called good grace. Gotham deserved to fall helplessly into Ghul's cold hands of justice…but when Crane figured out Ghul was planning to kill everyone…then he began to wonder who society was safe with. Maybe he should go on hating the bastards who ran the show, tormenting his (now fellow) crazies back in Arkham Asylum.
Now it was too late…
He had to make a plan—leave Gotham and escape anyone who knew he should be locked up in the asylum. Sure, he was a little off the rocker due to his hate for the bad people (partially why he loved scaring the hell out of them with his mask) of Gotham, but it was the dust that really knocked him over the top. It was wearing off quite nicely now and that was because he was hit with a temporary dose, and—honestly—he'd rather go to jail then stay tied up with the crazies. It really hurt his pride to be called insane but…after what he had done, there was no way they were going to simply put him under arrest. Criminals thought excusing their actions with insanity was a good win in court—but that was before they lived in an asylum. If you were sent to Arkham—which you most likely were if you lived in Gotham—there was no escape. You were forever labeled mentally ill and you would wear a straight jacket until the end of your days if you were proven highly dangerous…like Crane was…
He slammed the back of his head against the wall and he almost wished it knocked him out. He was royally screwed this time—no doubt about it. There was no way of escaping Gotham with the tight security going around, not to mention the big bad bat and Ra's Al Ghul lurking in the shadows…Oh—and how he could he forget Ghul's League of Shadows? There were still a great number of them hiding around Gotham, probably finding Ghul and getting him back to health so he could finish what he started.
He was immortal, wasn't he?
Yes…there was some fountain he found and that kept him alive…so long as he drank from it? Was that the legend? He couldn't remember and he really didn't care. Ra's Al Ghul alive meant more trouble for him. It was almost enough to make him wish he was back in Arkham…No. Ghul would probably put on his Décard act if he needed Crane. And why would he need Crane?
Because if he was going to use a city-wide panic attack to destroy Gotham and that machine (what have you) to disperse it into the air was destroyed, Ghul needed a new method to send it around and more of the chemical which Crane, alone unfortunately, knew how to make.
When he said he was royally screwed, he meant it.
But there had to be a way all around this. He was a doctor for God's sake—he had enough brain to formulate something…Quick enough was another matter altogether, but eventually he'd come up with something. Maybe there was something he was missing, stepping over…All he had to do was escape the city and then he'd be able to do anything from there on out. But the city was practically under arrest until all the crazies were caught!
Of course, he was going around in a damn circle.
He hated to admit it, but he'd need help. Who from, though, was beyond his imagination. He needed someone to sneak him out of the city and the he'd be free…free as a bird…free as a stupid crane…that was followed by the heron…
Honestly—he should have seen it coming from a mile away! The one time he had a try at crime, he got caught—and suffered to the maximum for it.
…Long live Gotham…
Wow—he really was a crazie. Already rambling at random thoughts…
-R-
Dying and returning to life was his specialty, save for the times he didn't actually die but had his body tossed around like a rag doll. At least in death his body regenerated peacefully, but when you were wide awake with all the pain you sometimes wondered if it was worth being partially immortal.
As the fire grew, he passed out, some of his men swarming around to drag him away from danger. He almost wanted to stay, to see if he could burn to death after such a failure. Bruce…why had he done it? Why had he betrayed him and turned against justice himself. Ghul wanted to believe that Bruce was simply mistaken…but there was no excuse now after all that the man had done. He was no better than the criminals he couldn't kill because of a weak heart. It was such a disappointment…such a disappointment…
Why?...
Alas—questions were of the past. All he needed to know was whether or not Bruce was still with him and tonight the man confirmed that he was against Ghul all the way. No matter how similar two people's goals can be, the methods make them enemies. That was what was told between them.
Everything was just shades to be parted, the white from the black and the gray. Gotham, too dark a tone to determine if it was really gray anymore, had to go. New York should probably go with it too and maybe even a lot of other cities but Bruce's town held top priority at the moment. It would have been nice to destroy it all in one night but that idea was out the window—not to mention his only alleyway to send his chemical into the air was at its end. By time he found another way to turn the water to a vapor, it would have all run through Gotham and out into the river, traveling downstream to a decent (or what you supposedly call decent) city. Heck—and only Crane knew how to make it. All the samples he had of the actual chemical were drained the few weeks before. That meant he would need the man…
But was he even alive! After all, he was trapped on Arkham Island with all the other loonies from the asylum and he was a thin man of brains, not a hand on hand fighter. By the looks of things, a man could snap Crane in half like a twig. It was fear that he used as power…an intelligent thing to do. After all, wasn't that what Ra's Al Ghul was using to destroy a city? He wasn't ready to go door to door with a knife and a shotgun to kill every person of Gotham, though paying a kill visit to Bruce sounded nice right about now.
Ugh—he had other things to worry about than that man, like how he was going to dish panic out again to the people. A bomb…no, that would take far too long to make and even then Gotham would get over it. Gotham had a knack for surviving and he needed to kill everyone…
When he first awoke he was in a room. Where it was, maybe a hotel, he had no idea, but he wanted to get up and finish Bruce off right then and there. He'd have to find him…and soon.
One of his men stood in the corner, revealing himself from the shadows the instant Ghul sat up in bed. It was night outside and no doubt a day or two long after the "tragic" event at Arkham…and how long exactly had he been asleep?
"Well?" He asked, snapping somewhat out of impatience and frustration.
"The city heals." The man replied. "Those infected by the dust have been imprisoned until the vaccine will be released for public use and those who escaped from Arkham have been half captured.
"A vaccine?" This was no doubt Bruce's doing. "When will it be ready?"
"Two to three weeks."
Two to three weeks! There was no time for long drawn out plans—now it was impromptu and thinking on one's feet—and the first thing he had to do was find and destroy all samples of the vaccine…and whoever created them. Perhaps Bruce had formulated something himself, but in such little time he probably had help...Now, who would help him…
It was all just one problem after another. If the vaccine was spread then he'd have to advance the 'crazy' dust and that still meant he'd need Crane. Crane had been the only one he could find able to create the dust in a controlled form. Besides, who could a person trust in 'Gotham'…?
"Find out everything you can about the vaccines." Ghul ordered, throwing aside the covers and standing. His chest was sore…and, not to mention, every other part of his body. The pain was almost enough to keep him from walking to the window. "Figure out where Bruce is staying and get someone to track down the doctor. If he isn't already back at the asylum then he's somewhere hiding near or around Arkham. And be quick—time is not on our side!"
The man bowed before speeding from the room. There would be results in the morning; he knew that for sure, but only if there was no dallying. And if it wasn't for his current condition…
Damn Bruce…Damn him and his blasted morals for man kind…
-A-
Well, I'm off to work on something else now—I'm trying to update as much as I can so if you're one of my regular reviews, please don't get angry. Oh—and I know what Scarecrow's real past is…I made it up…And I feel so bad because I'll usually check up on character history so I can make it as plausible as I most possibly can.
Anyhow—I have a sore throat and I'm starting to doze off. Hope you liked this though!
Until Again,
Alexnandru Van Gordon