The Enemy of My Enemy

"...Gotham City's vigilante hero, the Batman, only just failed to arrive in time to stop the bomb, which killed approximately two-hundred civilians. It is similar in nature to the previous attacks on Gotham Stadium and Gotham University Library. No known organization has taken credit for the bombings, but police investigators maintain their certainty that this is a terrorist attack, although it bears none of the hallmarks of the traditional Gotham supercriminals. And Batman has confirmed that all supercriminals are still confined in Arkham Asylum…"

The TV was switched off suddenly. "Not all," murmured the man watching it from a makeshift throne. "But then I have never considered myself a supercriminal. More of a guardian, like the great Batman himself. A guardian or…a savior. Gotham's Savior, and the world's."

He stood up, going over to study the map of the world hanging on the wall. "If only such representations truly reflected the rot and pestilence and decay that humanity has wrought upon the earth," he murmured. "It would be a terrible thing to behold. Humanity tears each other apart, limb from limb, and yet the world endures, waiting for the day when it will be wiped clean from the scum which infests it. Waiting for renewal, for salvation."

He lay his hand upon the map. "The time is close at hand. So very close…"

"Forgive the intrusion, my lord," said a voice, as another man entered the room.

"No intrusion. I was pleased to hear of the success of your efforts on the news, despite attempted interference from the Batman," said the first man, returning to his throne. "Another small segment of the earth purified. Progress is slow, but all worthwhile achievements take time. Good things come to those who wait. And I have all the time in the world."

"Yes, my lord," said the second man, bowing. "But you said this time you wanted something different?"

"Oh yes. This time I want someone to take credit for the attacks."

The second man looked puzzled. "Forgive me, my lord, but I understood secrecy was of the essence…"

"It is. I have no intention of crediting myself with them," said the first man, steepling his fingers. "But human hatred is most effective when it is directed against someone or something. To have terror and destruction itself as a means to an end, random, meaningless violence without sense or purpose…the human brain is too small to cope with such an idea. There must always be a reason. And there must always be a person responsible, someone the public can channel their rage and hatred against. A face of evil."

"And…whose face are you considering, my lord?" asked the second man hesitantly.

The first man was silent. "A face of evil. Or a mask."

He was silent again. "What do you know of the Batman?" he asked.

"Very little, my lord, other than what the news reports..."

"He is a man who uses terror to frighten criminals. An intimidating costume and mask is all that is necessary to send evil-doers fleeing in fear, or so he believes. And yet the man is considered a hero because he saves human life. Innocent human life, because he is naïve and foolish enough to believe there is such a thing. I have tried time and again to cure him of this way of thinking, but there is no reaching roots so deep. He foolishly insists that all life is sacred, and refuses to kill, even for the good of many. He repeatedly fights the so-called supercriminals of Gotham, time and time again imprisoning them in a lunatic asylum, only to have them break out and repeat the endless cycle of carnage and violence. Because he is too blind to see that sometimes it is necessary to take a life to save the world."

He leaned back in his throne. "He has interfered in my work before and will not fail to do so again. He nearly stopped this latest bomb. I need him out of my way permanently."

He tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. "What contacts does the organization have in the media? In law enforcement? In the government of Gotham City?"

"We have plants here and there. Tell me what your will is, my lord, and it will be done. Nothing will stop us from fulfilling your vision."

He nodded. "I wish the police to discover that Batman has been responsible for the bombings and issue a warrant for his arrest. I wish the media to report this to the public. I wish the government in response to the public outcry to confine him to the very lunatic asylum to which he confines his supercriminals. Once in Arkham Asylum, in their hands, he will never leave it alive."

He nodded again. "The lunatics, the ones he has worked so hard to save, will kill him. A fitting end. Justice of a very poetic kind. Surely Batman will appreciate it. And then we can carry on with our crusade unhindered by idealistic vigilantes. We will wipe the earth clean not only of the Batman, but of the supercriminals, and all the scum of humanity. It will be a glorious beginning of a new and beautiful world. A perfect world."

The second man bowed. "You will is no sooner said than done, my lord. We will not fail you."

"No," agreed the first man. "For those who fail the Demon do not live to repeat their failure."

The second man bowed again. "May your glorious work be speedily accomplished, my lord. All hail the great Ra's al Ghul."

He kissed his hand and departed. Ra's al Ghul looked after him, and then flicked on the TV again. "I am sorry, Detective," he murmured, as the screen flashed pictures of Batman. "But you brought this on yourself."