Ch. 24

Batman shifted uncomfortably. Upon seeing Dorian, he'd worried that he'd been brought up for some kind of torture, in the name of satisfying the sick doctor's curiosity, or perhaps simply his thirst for revenge. Instead, he was being served up to a drawn out monologue, although that was a form of torture in and of itself. For a half hour Dorian had been describing his time in Arkham Asylum and subsequent escape, aided by a group he had no previous contact with but desired his skills. Occasionally, he'd stop and make a few observations about the creatures on the other side of the glass. He did all this with the calm demeanor of a college lecture.

"It was an ingenious bit of subterfuge. Once my surprise benefactors spirited me away from Arkham, they not only faked my death, but saw that this deception was hidden as well, creating the illusion to general public that I was still sitting in my cell. Brilliantly done."

"By whom?"

"Beg your pardon?" Dorian asked, looking a bit startled. Batman had been almost completely silent thus far.

"Who released you?"

"I'm afraid they value their privacy quite strongly, and I am obliged to honor it until they desire to reveal themselves to you." He paced in front of the glass, back turned to Batman, casually observing a leopard woman sharpen her claws on tree bark. "I can say their desired applications for my work are not exactly the same as my own, but I cannot go into the details, nor care to, except to say they are considerably more…'practical' than mine. But they've been remarkably tolerant of my artistic endeavors, so I cannot hold it against them."

"Artistic??!!" Batman shouted. The two guards left in the room by the door, who by this point had come close to falling asleep, moved for their weapons, but Dorian stayed them with a wave of his hand. "This is what you call art? Destroying people's lives? Creating monsters? This is an abomination against nature!"

"You disappoint me, Batman. Surely you can appreciate the fine design I've given my subjects here. They are fine tuned, masters of the wilderness." He paused, then smiled a bit. "Do you recall when I mentioned William Blake to you when I spoke of Tygrus? I spoke of his poem, 'Tyger, Tyger.' Blake wrote of the wonderful, fearful design in the Tiger. So unlike the lamb, it did not rely on the flock, or adhere toward standards of morality and kindness." His eyes seemed to light up as he spoke. "The beauty of the deadly predator Batman! The deadly things of this world hold a matchless wonder that is unlike anything else I have seen. Such grace as they impose such horror on the lesser beings! It extends to every form of life Batman! I recall the first time I viewed the elegance of the Ebola virus under a microscope. Like a cobra with an outstretched hood! But the cat, the noble jungle cat…to see its beauty, its independence and power harnessed by human intelligence, yet free of the influence of civilization!"

Batman interrupted him, "Like Tygrus? He didn't turn out so well."

Dorian stopped cold at his words. His face took on a small note of sadness as he turned back toward the glass. "The flaw with Tygrus was my own. I blamed Catwoman's influence at first, but now I see it was foolish to think one such as I could build a pure creation with myself so closely involved. My own connection with civilization was too great. It poisoned my wonderful creature with feelings of love and pity. His love for me allowed him to feel mercy in other creatures." He lifted his cane to point toward the cat creatures beyond the glass. "On the other hand, these creatures, ironically, have been conditioned by this same civilization to survive by their own means, to distrust. I selected them carefully Batman. The homeless, the outcast. Society's rejects. They are ideal for this project. Thrust into the elements, the strong and ruthless will survive. By the second generation, my creatures will have produced a magnificent vision of feral fury. Yes Batman, I am an artist, creating not with ink and canvas but with life itself!" He turned from the glass to meet Batman's gritted expression. "Ah the look of rage! Much as Blake might have raged that the creator could make a being as deadly as the tiger. So blinded by rigid morality!"

Batman spoke slowly. "I've met men like you many times before. You all think you can shape the world to your own 'vision' no matter what it does to other people. But it all falls apart in the end Dorian. You're no god. Your only legacy will be the pain you leave behind."

Dorian ignored him, continuing. "I brought you here Batman, because I believed you at least should know what is ahead for you and your female companion. You both are close to the pinnacle of human fighting skill. You survived Tygrus, and handled my benefactor's guards and assassins. To speak nothing of your reputation as protector of Gotham City. Both I and my benefactor wish to see how you compete against my creations, albeit for different reasons, but those details do not matter."

"I won't fight for your amusement." Batman said flatly.

"Then you and the woman will die." Dorian said with equal flatness. "Your first challenge is tomorrow afternoon." He motioned to the men behind Batman. "Guards, take him back to his cell. See that he is well fed, and that no one disturbs him tonight. He must be in maximum fighting shape for this experiment to be of any value."


Ross had phoned in to Deathstroke just before he reached his position. He hadn't wanted to let him know he was coming until it was too late for him to argue about it or do anything treacherous.

Deathstroke greeted him with a surprisingly copasetic attitude.

"Well Corporal Ross, I surmise you guessed that I was being deceptive about my luck with our primary target. You've gained some respect in my book, seeing through my methods. It is just as well you're here anyways.'

"Why's that?" Ross replied apathetically.

"Because we have to deal with an entire group of them. Our target is quite the guerrilla leader."

Ross huffed "I could have told you that. He's been bleeding us for weeks now." He stared through Wilson. "Which is why I don't care what they're paying you, he's ours to bag."

Deathstroke seemed unaffected by the implied threat "We'll see. Regardless, I'd suggest you follow my initial plan and be patient. There's too many of them together right now. Your group might overwhelm them, but you'd lose many of your men."

"What good will waiting do? Why not use the element of surprise?"

"You of all people should know stealth is their strength. Not ours. I attempted to sneak up on them. I failed. So we'll use their knowledge of us to our advantage."

"You let them see you?" Ross spat angrily. "What kind of strategy is it to let your enemy know your whereabouts?"

"I'm speaking of psychological warfare. I'll have them questioning each other, panicking. Bit by bit we'll eliminate them. Tygrus will probably be the last. Perhaps I'll let you have him as a gesture of good will."

Ross looked in the direction of the castle. "If this siege is going to work, you'll need my men to keep anyone from escaping. And we'll need to set up supply lines."

Deathstroke smirked underneath his mask. "Well? You'd better get to work then."

Ross waited for several seconds. "Give us a minute." He finally said. Deathstroke simply nodded and took a few steps back.

Ross turned and made a hand motion toward his army. Three mercenaries came forward and removed there helmets. They revealed a pale skinned Russian who wore a thick mustache, red like his hair, an African American man, with a scar running from his right eye down his cheek, and an Israeli woman, slightly tanned, with black locks that dropped to her shoulders as she removed her head piece.

Ross looked at his officers. "What do you think?" He looked to the Russian. "Alex?"

The man spat to the side. "These are wild animals to be hunted. Perhaps they were people once, but then only people taken from the street. Not a trained army. Only the gray one is a true danger. Flush them out and be done with it."

"Arrogant…" The man next to him muttered.

Ross acknowledged him, "Eh David?"

"We've had too many losses already. These creatures were smart enough to organize together. We've got to treat them with more respect."

Ross turned to the woman. "And you Sarah?"

The woman spoke evenly, in a calculated voice. "There is no reason to rush. We have the advantage. The important one is the gray one, correct. But in a hurried attack, he might escape. Better to trap him. If circumstances change, we can still attack at any time."

Ross nodded, "I agree. Take your teams and set up a perimeter. We'll take it slow for now. But be prepared for a change in plans."


The perimeter was simple enough to set up. But the guards weren't happy about a siege out in the jungle. Many were looking to put a quick end to the creatures that had menaced them for weeks, and still more wondered why they put so much effort into this particular group. Squads of three choked off all escape routes through the jungle. Ross made sure no team stayed in one spot for more than 2 hours, rotating in fresh groups in clockwork fashion. The first day went by with no problems. That night, Deathstroke gave him a chance to briefly spy on the subjects of the siege. The two of them, alone, carefully moved close toward the perimeter of the cat base. He looked through the night vision binoculars, past the trees toward the opening. Three cats clearly prowled the edges of the clearing, while the others gathered down the hill toward the mouth of the stream, which flowed out of a narrow pathway through a wall of rock that guarded the way north.

"We'll have to pick them off as time goes on." Deathstroke whispered. "They have water and a food supply from the river. Did you get men guarding the mountain passage?"

"Yes" Ross whispered, eying a sentry cat along the edges of the clearing. He was sure they couldn't see them, but even getting this close was a risk. Deathstroke kept tense, ready to move, with one hand close to his firearm. "They'll cover the escape route from above. If they try to escape down that way, they'll walk straight into a trap."

Down by the water, he caught focus on his target. He hadn't seen him so clearly before. He was taken aback not only at his size, but also the way he moved so quickly. He seemed to be playing with the blond cat he had argued to save. She darted from side to side; escaping his diving attempts, till he caught her and they both tumbled in a pile. He nuzzled her neck lightly, and they then uncoiled and repeated. Was it a training exercise? It didn't matter. Seeing them brought up images of his slain comrades, of Smith reduced to a mental wreck. His grip around the eyepiece tightened, stressing the casing nearly to the breaking point.

"We should go, it's dangerous for us to be so close, by ourselves." Deathstroke finally said.

Ross nodded as he put down the binoculars. "We'll wait three days to see if anyone starts to stray. Then we'll look into using sharpshooters. Every moment that beast lives drives me insane."