Interdependence and Inspiration

"So, for years I had tried to catch him, and knew that he was concocting a significant number of crimes – though not all of them – solely from spite towards me, the first person to ever see his unmasked self revealed. On the other hand, working on his cases considerably honed my detecting skills, for hardly any other cases I have been asked to work on have been as intricately woven and intellectually challenging and stimulating as those that were of his doing. It may sound absurd, but in a way… I depended on him, to escape boredom when cases were few and far between, for my mind is like a racing machine which instantly begins to rust away during periods of stagnation. I guess Ratigan, in a way, depended on me as well, for he conceived such abhorrence for me ever since I left and exposed him, that he thoroughly enjoyed trying to plague me with the often barbaric nature of his deeds, and nothing could have made him happier than revenging himself upon his archenemy. He used to truly admire my abilities, and must have greatly amused himself knowing I was trying to find him whereas the police did not even consider it worth an attempt. He never ceased to admire my intellect, nor I his, yet the difference between us was that while I had succeeded at regarding him as merely an object of my quest, without feeling any strong emotion towards him – though I confess, recovering from the anguish he had caused me did take some time – he never let go of loathing me with a passion. He made it his life's goal to put an end to me, yet I can say I did the same. He followed me, I followed him…"

"So, to conclude, the reason I never got rid of his portrait was that Ratigan remained to be my life's inspiration – even after he had showed his true colours. He inspired me to think faster, work harder, and grow an even thicker skin. To keep my tail up, and let no one prevail against me. Every time I saw his likeness, that charming smile which belied his true savage nature, I felt a new motivation to carry on with what I had set out to accomplish. No one, I repeat, no one, shall ever create such elaborate schemes as the late ex-Professor, for his capacity for truly sophisticated crime is unmatched. Any other criminal pales in comparison." Basil paused, looking at the portrait. He then added, slowly, "Now that he is dead… somehow it is as though I have been deprived of my life's purpose. This…somehow depresses me." He swallowed and faced his listeners again. They were silent.

"Now that I come to contemplate the matter… it is quite the tragedy, isn't it? I mean—" He sighed. "Ratigan and I… we could have achieved some great things together. But his lust for vengeance and power turned out to be far greater than his thirst for acquiring knowledge for the sake of improving the present to create a better future. Initially… he used to equip me with knowledge and encourage me to live my dream… and 13 years later, he tried to slay me with his own hands."

The speaker's audience was visibly saddened by the dreadful account of Ratigan's tragic development from mentor to murderer. Basil continued to muse,

"During our battle, for a moment, as I stood defenceless on the edge of the clock tower and was on the verge of surrendering, I looked into his eyes with the most desperate, pleading expression for mercy. Somehow, I couldn't make myself accept that he truly had murderous intentions – but I was sorely mistaken. Never in my entire life had I witnessed so much raw emotion, so much loathing and disgust in anyone's eyes as in Ratigan's as he victoriously looked down at me, utterly prostrated, cowering before him. When his last blow sent me falling from the clock's hand and he thought I was gone, though he did cry out in triumph that he had won, deep down, he knew I had actually defeated him, for he had sunk so low as to finally accept that he was what he was and, having succumbed to his emotions, to use his physical advantages over his mental ones – and there was no way that anyone would ever let themselves be deceived by him again, after the incident at Buckingham Palace. In reality, he had lost his life's purpose. Because I had, figuratively, destroyed him, and continued to constantly interfere with his plans, he swore he would live to destroy me. And Ratigan had always been a man of his word; I knew he was in earnest. When, by the irony of fate, the clock struck 10 p.m. and the vibrations forced him down from the minute hand he was balancing himself on, he made certain I was dragged down with him. He couldn't bear to know I would survive while he was about to fall to his death. He would have rather known us both dead, buried together… master and apprentice. However, he had not considered that I was my own master then. Though admittedly, it was by pure chance of time that I survived the battle, it was also because, unlike Ratigan, I didn't let my emotions get the better of me. His weakness was his short temper; it ultimately led to his own destruction."