The Heron and the Crane

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Well—action is kicking up. I like making these long…Find I have so much to say in this story…

CHAPTER FOUR: Connecting thoughts

When he first woke he didn't move or try to open his eyes—or do anything that would allow his captors to know he was awake. He just listened…listened and tried to think before moving and doing something so utterly stupid that it landed him in any further trouble. Well…it wasn't as though his current situation could get any better...

There was little to hear; someone writing hastily on a piece of paper off to his left, not close…but not far…He was cold and he was lying on something soft...something like a couch, perhaps.

He considered lying there for a while longer, just to wait and see if he'd be left alone, but he honestly doubted anyone would be stupid enough to leave him unsupervised. This was, after all, the League of Shadows he was dealing with.

It was no use playing dead. Someone was going to stick around whether he was unconscious or not so he'd might as well get the over and done with. Besides, Ghul could get impatient at times…

-R-

When the man stirred he looked up from his files, watching as Dr. Jonathan Crane sat up and turned to fix his eyes on Ghul. Then he shot him a look, a brief insight to his hatred for the man. And what a miserable look it was. Something with murderous intent...

He was gangly—so thin and pale one could imagine him easily as a resident at the local asylum, and when a lock of black hair fell over his right eye he didn't move to brush it aside. Those vengeful eyes stayed focused on Ghul, narrow and menacing—although he supposed they were narrow more from the irritation of light in the room rather than any actual maliciousness.

Something tugged at the corner of Ghul's lip and he smiled. Hate was a powerful weapon—if you couldn't hate your opponent you had no hopes of ever defeating them. Just as compassion was required to move the heart, hatred was needed to steady the hand.

Odium was a natural expression on Crane's face; made that little report of his fight against Ghul's men all the more plausible. A man could do great things if he was fuelled by the right emotion and rage was the perfect source.

To cut Crane a little slack, he turned his chair and reached back for the curtain rope. It was half closed already and shutting it all the way with one pull darkened the room considerable. Maybe the shade would calm the man down.

Crane averted his gaze from Ghul and focused on the coffee table in front of him instead. Elbows on his knees, the doctor leaned forward and sighed as Ghul stood, making his way to sit on the sofa across from him. He wouldn't look up at Ghul, either because he was trying to ignore him or he was too lost in thought to care much. It upset Ghul to a small degree. There was something to be seen in the doctor's abhorrence, a kind of loathing he'd never seen in any of his other men. It was born from something different, he supposed, than vengeance against a world corrupt beyond repair.

"Good afternoon, Crane…how are you feeling?"

Crane paused and then, shakily… "Ra's…"

It sounded…well, it sounded as though Crane was struggling to say his name, seeing that he couldn't finish it—almost as though he were in pain. It was masked quite nicely behind his rage, the kind that Ghul was curious to see again. And, yes, he could sense the fear. Fear in the form of confusion, for man always fears what he cannot understand. Crane didn't know why Ghul wanted him—or, at least, he knew the purpose behind Ghul\s plans but didn't want to believe them.

"Tell me…" he offered the man a small smile, watching as Crane shifted his eyes up slowly to stare at him, "what happened to your eyes?"

Said eyes narrowed dangerously and something akin to a snarl crossed Crane's face for the briefest of moments. "I was shot in the face with a taser gun by the DA. Not the most pleasant impression, certainly, but you know what they say: pain is a natural sensation of life."

"So it would appear…" Ghul eyed the man over again—making Crane shift uncomfortably. Crane was accustomed to examining people and evaluating them—not the other way around. "How exactly did you escape Arkham?"

"Anyway a sane man would…" Crane lifted his head even more; the hatred remained. The fear still lingered—and yes, the statement. Obviously Crane didn't want to believe he was mentally ill like all the other crazies from Arkham. "I took the train."

Amused by his reply, Ghul smiled again. Either the good really had lost his mind or he was trying to be sarcastic.

He leaned back causally and crossed his legs as he observed the man with mild fascination. "How did you manage to accomplish that if the train was missing from the station at the time of your premature release?"

"The only other way a man could."

"Please, humour me, Dr. Crane"

Crane took a quick glance to his left, focusing on the door. There was a strange glint behind his eyes. It reminded Ghul of the visits he made when Crane was first producing the poison for the League, a look that meant he had something working out in his mind. Seeing that his attention was drawn toward the door, his best guess was that Crane wanted nothing more than to leave—or escape, rather, since Crane wasn't necessarily there by his free will.

"I took the worker's catwalk. It's built just above the rail."

…Perhaps he wasn't quite as insane as Ghul thought he would be. Crane could be a surprising character when he put his mind to it.

"And then what?" Ghul asked, "You hid?"

"Hid…" the rage crossed behind his eyes again and they locked with Ghul's, "What else did you think I would do?"

"Seeing that you have a peculiar fondness with conflict, I thought you would've fought back—work your way out of town."

Crane looked somewhat surprised. "Perhaps, but a blind man can't go far without some form of aid or another. Besides, Mr. Ra's Al Ghul, in life you can really only be one of two things—a quick coward or a brave retard. Which are you?"

This wasn't where he wanted the conversation to go. He wanted to push a few of Crane's buttons, true, but Ghul was a man of control.

"Retard?" He inquired. "That's an interesting choice of words..."

"Not even a fool would walk into danger for no apparent reason or if they knew they were going to fail anyway."

"So you're saying that my plans for the city are 'retarded'?"

Crane considered this. "I was talking about you, but you can read into it that way I suppose so. I bet you didn't plan on running into a lunatic dressed as a bat. He showed you though, didn't he?"

Again, another salt of failure added to the wound. Bruce was going to die one of these days—and it wasn't going to be from old age.

"You really have lost your mind."

Crane growled, "Thanks to you."

"You could have denied—"

"I did!" Crane snapped. Now they were getting somewhere—Ghul was back in control again. "Yes your poison powder fascinated me, but how many times had I told you I was going to give up—how many times had I tried to shake you off when you first came to meet me? Have you ever been in an asylum, Ghul...?"

He waited… "Yes."

"As a patient?"

Ghul frowned, "So you spent a little time in the place of your clients—I thought you enjoyed working at Arkham."

"I enjoyed working there—not being treated for a non-existent illness. I didn't enjoy living there. Have you ever experience reoccurring visions? Of course—you gave me that plant, so one could only wonder how you tested it on your own. Did those visions go away with a little rest or did they linger for days on end?"

The flower he gave to Crane was weaker than the poison he created—it didn't last long but the effects were pretty much the same. The poison showed you something you thought you could bury inside yourself. Ghul hadn't been what Crane had been through but he had been in situations that could have been graded at the same level as his torment of insanity.

Ah, and so there it was. Crane`s fear.

Insanity.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Crane paused then…a direct hit to the chest. He didn't give an answer.

"You're going to advance your drug."

Crane shook his head slowly… "It's rude to ignore a question by changing the subject…"

"Very well…" he smiled inwardly, "Those visions are with me every day of my life. You can't destroy fear, Dr. Crane—its stays with you until the end of your days. That's what fear is— unconquerable; uncontrollable. You, yourself, fear insanity—and though I see things that would make most men weep, I`ve never been hindered by distress or worry."

Crane gave a small laugh, something Ghul didn't expect. "Men are plagued by fear—animals are plagued by fear—and that is what makes them mortal."

Ghul was mortal a man, unless you knew the legends… "You know the rumours." He said. "If I am, indeed, mortal, then fear is my gift from God. But tell me, why can't a man be immortal without fear?"

"Because only lesser beings lack the ability to fear."

The smile faded, "And what of you, Crane? Do you enjoy fear—inflicting it, or even…perhaps, feeling it? Do you love the screams, the agony and the torment—the race of your heart and shortness of breath? Does it amaze you? Does it amuse you? Is it your weapon, your calling card—your life's work? It is true, without denial, that those lesser than man lack the ability to fear, but it is not also just to say that those worse than man love to fear…love the power it possesses?"

The never faltering anger flared in Crane's eyes. He hit something hard—the truth. He called Crane a monster—told him everything about himself and, at the same time, showed how him how malicious he could be. Crane wasn't a man of war, a man of tyranny or deceit, but what he felt fell along the lines of all that and worse.

"Then…I guess you're both less and worse than man." Crane said; voice calm and unwavering, like he was talking to a patient, "And…how does that make you feel?"

"Man is beneath what man was first set out to be—"

"Uh-uh." Crane interrupted, shaking his head slightly, "Remember…don't be rude…You just described yourself as well because, quite frankly, I didn't try to kill everyone in the city with fear itself."

"Ah—but you created the powder."

Crane laughed again, briefly. "Man made fire—but that doesn't stop it from burning flesh, now does it?"

"So then—what am I? A monster?"

He nodded, "Exactly."

-C-

He didn't give Ghul the chance to make another statement. Words held power—always had and always would, and Crane wasn't about to debate for hours on end with the man. They were both a little right; a little wrong. Any outsider to their conversation would be able to see that.

There was a reason he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and all he had to do was endure Ghul's speech until the man relaxed his guard. Ra's Al Ghul, without a doubt, was a powerful man and it was easily imaginable that any word he said could bring fear to the hearts of many without his even trying. He was a legend in the orient, recorded in a few tales in other countries—always portrayed as man's judge, jury and executioner. Like a spawn of death eternal, he swept over ruined cities and did with them what he saw just.

His plan was going to fail.

Crane's, that is…but it was worth a shot anyway. Just to show that he would go as far as he most possibly could to escape from helping Ghul…

Hands near the coffee table; he slipped them underneath and flipped the furniture in Ghul's direction. It fell on the man's lap and smacked him in the nose, landing sideways with its legs aimed at Crane. Ghul had only paused a moment in the short outburst and moved his hands to push the table off himself, but Crane knew all too well that that wasn't going to be enough. Instead of making a break for the door, he jumped to his feet and lunged at Ghul just as he pushed the table aside, hands closing around his throat

The force of the attack caused the couch to fall backward, both men rolling away as Ghul tried to pry Crane's hands free. Crane wasn't prepared to let go, not yet knowing what he would do next. He knew how to choke a man—knew the anatomy of the human body—but right now he was too anxious to act. Killing a man was one thing—killing a legendary fighter was another matter altogether.

He should really stop jinxing himself.

Ghul, caught off guard, made a choking noise before grabbing Crane's right wrist with both hands. Crane barely had time to react before pressure was applied, bending his hand back with a sharp crack. In reaction he gave a swift punch to the man's face with his other hand and released small cry of pain. It was a sucker punch and Ghul was used to taking a hit—in short, it did nothing for Crane and soon he was on his back, Ghul pinning him to the ground by his shoulders

"If you want a fight, I can give you one," Ghul warned. The amusement, however, wasn't lost in his voice, "but I'll give you a little advice—you'll never win."

"Depends on what I'm fighting with," he spat in retaliation.

Ghul said nothing to that. Instead, he looked to the door and called out to his men in one of his foreign languages. Looking back down at Crane, he nodded to some internal thought and said, "Seeing that you have so much energy, let's put it to good use."

The man pushed himself swiftly onto his feet and stepped aside as two of his brutes swooped in. They took a quick glance at the furniture before focusing their attention on Ghul. Standing at attention, they waited for his orders.

Crane stood on his own, right hand shaky from the attack. It didn't look broken—aside from the fact that he couldn't move it and the pink patch circling his wrist was already darkening into a bruise. He'd have to do something with it soon before it worsened.

Ghul gave Crane one last look…eyes fixed on the broken wrist. Then he frowned in realization, "You must forgive me; I meant to break the left."

"Then let's let bygones be bygones," Crane muttered in sarcasm, "No worries, I'm ambidextrous..."

He was originally left-handed, but after enough kids called him the devil father, he kicked into gear and went over to the ever-popular dextral trend of society. And if it wasn't "Devil" in the name calling then it was "Scarecrow". Made sense anyway…he turned out to be one when he was older…

Ghul ignored the comment and turned back to his men, saying something brief in their language before returning to his desk. One of the brutes took Crane by his left arm and led him to the door, the second man following close behind. In hand to hand combat he knew he would lose every time against Ra's Al Ghul. But he had his methods…he knew many ways to get back at the man…

-B-

The meeting was as boring as hell.

How could anyone sit straight that long through a three hour report? Fox could have done better, but the man was newly hired, young and still inexperienced. He believed in chances. The kid had his head in the right place—believed in what was right for the people and tried his best to please. Or maybe it was just Bruce…He had, after all, been traveling for so long just to learn the true meaning of fighting for justice (and he found it alright!).

Yeah…it was just him.

He stood on the edge of the building, staring down at the glowing street below. Flashing signs, street lights, people bustling about in the cool evening air—looked pretty right from up where he was. Too bad, underneath it all, it was really just a false illusion. Carmine Falcone might have been one of the toughest Crime lords of Gotham, but he was far from the only one. There were still a few "problems" left from the last near-doomsday event for Gotham (which included the escapee) and new crooks were testing the justice system again.

He held the card in his hand, flipping to over to see the Joker. What sort of symbol was this? A Jester—to impose fear? It was really stretching the usual unwritten code of criminals but if a man could make it work then he made it work. After all, who in the world would have expected to see a guy parading around dressed as a bat, beating the tar out of anyone who deserved it? Anything could happen.

And where to start? All he knew was that the guy had no real method. He didn't care who he was shooting or why they needed to be killed; he just called his boys together and took the victim out in one night. And he was good at what he did—Bruce couldn't find much proof aside from the calling-card, and each one was without fingerprints. The guy knew how to hide his tracks…but people tended to get lazy, forget things behind…It wouldn't take long before the guy messed up.

And Bruce would be there to pick up the pieces.

Right now he was following someone. Believe it or not, but he didn't exactly feel like dropping out into a large crowd of people just to grab an easy catch unless he seriously had to. It was two of the escapees from the asylum, dressed up in different clothes and trying to look inconspicuous to the public eye. Fools. It wasn't the public they should worry about.

Both were rapists, no doubt out for some of their so-called fun. While he was following them, they were following a young lady in her teens. Long blond hair pinned up, blue eyes, a nice suit and a weary look to her face—a lawyer probably. She was lucky someone was watching over her.

No doubt upset from work or something along the lines of that, she pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket and turned into an alleyway. Bruce really hated it how some of the buildings were made—back doors leading out into the alley for fire safety. Thing was—it was only ever used as a back door leading into the building. It was always the perfect place for someone to get grabbed…

High-heeled shoes tapping against the concrete ground, she made her way down the alley toward the door. Behind her the men turned the corner—looking around quickly before quietly running to catch up to her. Just as they reached her she turned toward the door, catching sight of them in the corner of her eyes. She barely had time to scream before a large hand covered her mouth and a tall man pressed her body up against the wall with his own. But around that same time Bruce descended upon the three and took on his personality as the Bat—

—beat them until they can't walk right for the rest of the month.

He gave a quick hit to the back of the guy standing behind his partner, just to get him out of the way while he took on the one having fun. He grabbed the second guy by the back of his collar and yanked him away from the woman so hard that he heard the guy choke. The man fell back to ground and a hand automatically wrapped around his throat. Bruce forced him back to his feet and stood him up before thrusting an upper-cut to his jaw. When the man stumbled into the wall, scared and trying to shudder away from Batman, Bruce simply grabbed him by the face, pulled his head forward and then slammed it back into the brick.

One down…

The other man was just beginning to get up onto his hands and knees when Bruce turned to face him. With a sharp kick to the gut the man keeled over and gasped in pained, face wide open to the next kick Bruce delivered. Then it was lights-out like his partner…

"Whoa…" the woman gasped softly, looking down at the second guy, "That's the second night in a row I was saved by a crazy—sorry!" She covered her mouth and stared at Bruce with wide eyes. "Not that you're a crazy from the asylum. It's just the talk and all and…Thank you…I hope I didn't offend you."

"No…" actually, sometimes he thought the exact same thing, "but you said there was another crazy…"

Crazy was the term the public used for the residents at Arkham Asylum. He highly doubted that someone from there would save her but maybe they did...

"Oh, well...thanks…again."

She averted her gaze and put her keys into the door lock, rushing inside before he could ask her again. He followed quietly behind. The men outside weren't going to wake any time soon and he wouldn't take long…

She didn't notice him even as she finished climbing the apartment stairs and stopped before her door. She was more focused on the door.

It was slightly open, the lock still attached to the frame. Must have taken a bulldozer to knock it open like that or someone who worked out every hour of the day.

She ran inside and Bruce walked toward the door, staying just outside her apartment. She threw her satchel onto the table and began looking around, "Crane!"

Crane? Dr. Crane?

That's when he entered.

"Why would Dr. Crane be in your apartment?" he asked, startling the hell out of her when she spun around to meet him face to face, "why didn't you call the police?"

She tried to say something…but all she could do was move her mouth to silent words. Then, sighing, she walked over to the torn curtains and pulled them shut, taking a seat on her sofa. "Because…because I don't think he should go back to the asylum…"

"It's not your right to decide."

"And it isn't yours either." Fierce blue eyes locked with his and narrowed. "The police can only judge him from what you've somehow told them. Why should anyone trust a man dressed up as a bat, fighting crime for what—justice? Seems a little odd and a little too good to be true if you ask me."

"And how did he save you?"

"Another crazy was out in the alley last night. He stopped him from raping me."

Little lady didn't have much luck.

"How do you know he didn't only save you so you'd believe he was good?"

"How do I know you didn't only save me so I'd believe you were good?"

"He committed a crime—"

"And being a vigilante is with the law, right?" She shook her head and looked away, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of her. "I've known him for a few years. He was my aunt's psychiatrist and he was the only one who made progress with her—cared enough to actually get her out of the asylum. And he didn't want to accept my help—didn't want me getting into trouble."

"He isn't good—"

"And you know that because you can read minds." She rolled her eyes, staring at him again from where he at the other end of the living-room. "Fine—call the cops for the men you caught and then tell them to arrest me as well, but don't tell me to believe something I know isn't right."

"Half those men in his asylum were there because of his dust."

She gave a small laugh. "Yeah, I know. Funny how they were only the criminals—just like you. He went behind the law to punish bad people—and look!" she gave another small laugh, waving a hand in his direction. "There's the Batman sneaking around in the background punishing the same bad people. What a coincidence…"

He hesitated…he never actually thought of it that way. "But Crane…what he did jeopardized the lives of innocent people."

"And your midnight drive down the highway and through the city was so safe."

…Yes, she was a lawyer.

"You should get your door fixed." He said before she began again—but when she looked away he breezed from the room into the kitchen and out into the hall before she could realize he was gone.

What she said…was making him double-guess himself. Did Crane really deserve to be locked up in Arkham again? …Well, if he was still insane then Bruce really had no choice there, but after hearing that he saved that woman (and outing up with her chattering) and listening to her argument and Crane's morals…he wasn't so sure the man would remain on his hunting list for much longer.

What to think about Crane…

-A-

Thanks for all the reviews guys. If this chapter sounded pretty awful it's probably because I'm looking at the clock and it says…oh, yay—four fifty-six a.m. I hope you like what's happening and you get to see some more action soon. I just had to put Crane trying to strangle Ghul because that's probably what I would have done in his situation. And then I had to put Ghul breaking Crane's wrist because he is a better fighter and I had to make the little round fair. Sorry, Crane fans…and I know which ones of you are because I've been receiving threats in the mail should anything happen to him. It's just a story…repeat after me—it's just a story.

See you next time.

Until Again,

Alexnandru Van Gordon