AN: Companion piece to "Prologue". This is set after The Dark Knight…
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. – John F. Kennedy
Epilogue
We could do this forever…
Maybe they will.
He tugged at the restraints on his arms only slightly. He didn't want to call attention to himself. Not right now, anyways. He'd let them think that the drugs they gave him were working their magic. It was the core of his being, this lulling into complacency before acting. It was truly the downfall of every society.
Stealing, killing… fear, hatred… It all became normal. Until it was forced into confrontation.
That was the Batman. The hero.
Now, justice was normal. Unity, security… safety, peace… It was the public outcry and what was demanded. Until it was forced into confrontation.
And that was him. The villain.
He could feel the smirk ripple across his face as he licked at his lips. It was an intricate little dance he'd initiated with the dark-caped vigilante. They truly were the two sides to one coin…
He let out a high-pitched laugh at the irony of the thought. Harvey Dent… he had been one coin all by himself. Oh, how the mighty can fall. It had made the little dance between him and the Batman all the more interesting. It was more than just the fight for the soul of Gotham.
… have to do everything yourself…
The good in the city would crumble. He would see to it. He'd already set the stage. The joke was on Gotham and its winged freak.
A click at the door drew his attention. A man walked in with a clipboard and a syringe. Did they really think a mind-altering concoction would work on someone with barely a mind at all? He continued to smirk at the man now sitting next to him. How foolish…
Gotham was busy mourning Dent. But soon, they would be mourning the city itself. They thought the chaos he'd introduced in the past few days was bad… it was truly only the beginning. Let them guess what comes next, because the scar was coming. This had only been a paper cut…
As his companion's eyes focused on the syringe, his hand reached out further than any restraint should have allowed and towards the abandoned clipboard.
As quickly as the pencil was in his hand, it disappeared. He could only watch with amused eyes as the man in front of him fell to his knees, clutching the side of his neck with morbid gasps. The white, sterile room slowly became red.
Disappearing pencil trick, number two.
Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn…
With a small, freeing chuckle, he let the restraints fall to the floor as he stood and stepped over the flailing body. The fire has to start somewhere. Too bad there's only so much of the world that will burn.
The Beginning of the End