The Line
There is a line.
For some, it's a forbidden boundary between the black and white. Right and wrong.
For others, like myself, it barely seems to exist. Crossing it was nothing more challenging than stepping over a crack in the sidewalk. A small hurdle on the path to achieving my goals.
Murder.
I killed many in my attempt for world domination. I remember the first as if it happened yesterday- my Mistah J was even there to watch. It was a Psych. Ward nurse at Arkham who learned a little too much and needed to be...dealt with. Lemmie tell you, some sedatives and a well placed noose will work wonders for you, if you let them. "Suicide", the papers said.
I call it a work of art.
But my masterpiece was something a little less intentioned...at first, anyway. It was like getting a present before finding the wrapping paper. Oh yes. A charming man who happened to be at the wrong place, at the most perfectly wrong time.
Wade.
New Gotham was under my control. Huntress was off doing my bidding, and just as I was about to make my home in the former fortress of the Bat's fallen protégé, Oracle, he stepped into the room. The realization dawned on me instantly, and the joy was nearly unbearable. A little lamb stood before me, ready for the slaughter.
..."Hey Wade, will you do anything I ask?"
"Yes."
Next thing you know, I'm slowly shoving a knife into the heart of Barbara Gordon's boyfriend.
Bye bye, Brixton.
But that wasn't the best part. Sweet as it was seeing blood slide down cold steel, it was the call from Her that made my evening. The initial shock...the witty retort...and then the slow and silent breakdown of composure as I ripped her world apart. Beautiful.
Then she and her little hero friends had to go and smash through the Clocktower window and foil all my plans.
Anticlimax, anyone?
Suddenly I find myself pressed up against a railing, looking into the eyes of a would-be murderer. The friend, hero, protégé and mentor that is Oracle edged towards the point of no return.
Like I said, there is a line.
She may very well have done it-vengeance has long been known to give people that final push- if not for Huntress frantically preaching their weak minded mantra of "We don't kill". At the last moment she released, and made my defeat that much more complete.
At least I would have taken someone down with me, had she gone through with it.
Now I find myself staring at the opposite side of an Arkham cell door, wearing something a little more restrictive than my usual red and blacks. Oh how he must be laughing at me...my Mistah J. The irony, and all that. He can laugh all he wants...New Gotham will be mine again.
Next time, Oracle, you won't survive, and all the blood and chaos that will flood the streets and plague every human being will be a glorious sight indeed.
...What can I say? Villains, with all our destructive tendencies, are just fountains of optimism.
