Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Saint and the Crusader


2012. Year of the Apocalypse.

The World's greatest detective finds his skill somewhat inappropriate. For what would explain all these phenomenon that he is witnessing right now? A young girl not affected by gunshot. A certainly dead old man brought back to life. A man floating in mid-air with no support. What could explain these things? Certainly not logic. Thus the detective is helpless. He is now facing villains beyond logic and reason. Towards the supernatural.

The detective keeps an open-mind. He has something up his sleeve exaactly for times like these. He packs his Acidic Holy Water. A set of Cross Batarangs. And a Titanium spike crafted with wood from the Holy Cross. He brings The Rosary-- passed on through many generations-- originating from Mary Magdalene herself. He wears the Blessed Cape-- made from the cloth of the Shroud of Turin. Thus the detetive is now in full divine gear. The Dark Crusader is unleashed.




Gotham Cathedral
11:45 PM

A gathering of feral beings create a dark aura in this supposedly holy place. A werewolf, a vampire and a warlock in the holiest of holies-- resting in the altars and the tabernacle and the pedestal of the saints. A pact is being made. A dark trinity.

From afar a faint laughter can be heard. The three creatures became alert as the laughter intensifies. Louder and louder it gets until.. Bam! The cathedral door swings open.

Against the faint moonlight, the silhouette of a skinny man wearing a long suit can be seen. His arms hang on the side. He is holding a switch blade on each hand, blood dripping all over. The man exudes a murderous aura. And then he laughs.

The ominous silhouette enters. It walks towards the holiest of holies towards the trinity now standing and quite vigilant. Slowly the laughing man  approaches. His purple suit becomes illuminated by the light of the altar candles. And as he comes closer he smiles-- or maybe he has been smiling all this time.

He leans his smiling face to one of the candles in front of the three. He makes another broader smile as he open his mouth and whispers...

"Kill me now or I will kill you all."

The Cathedral clock strikes 12. The clockbells rings. A bell for each hour.

The twelfth strike. The Jokers head lay on the aisle floor. His body lurches forward to the candles. The vampire picks up the severed head. The werewolf carries the body. The warlock gets the white tablecloth covering the tabernacle. And all three walks to the cathedral's catacombs. They walk within dark alleys and low tunnels. They walk past open coffins and ruined tombstones. Until they reach an empty catacomb.

The warlock spreads the cloth on the ground. The werewolf and the vampire puts the head and the body on the cloth. They wrapped him carefully and tightly. Then the three carry the corpse inside the cave and puts it down in the center. They go out and roll the covering stone, closing the cave indefinitely.



The Cathedral Catacombs
11:45 pm
3 days later

The vampire is dead - for the second time. Titanium spike on the heart. And a lot of bruises all over his body. His limp body hangs in the chandelier upside-down-- just the way he likes it. For some reason, the Dark Crusader feels pity -- maybe because of a probable affinity to the creature or maybe just plain pity.

The werewolf is dead. Not by a silver bullet but by a broken neck. No villain is too strong for a good headlock and neck break-- the Crusader has proven that time and again. Add to that a good combination of tranquilizers, flashbombs, some sleeping gas and the good old batarang and no enemy is safe.

The warlock is proving to be much more difficult. With its combination of magical potions, hypnotic and illusionary tactics and the power to summon the occult, the warlock is certainly gaining the upperhand. The Crusader is now trapped in the confessional. The warlock has enchanted it to be unbreakable for a short time. At least long enough for his next move.

The warlock wounds himself and sprinkles his blood on the floor. He takes a small vial from his pocket and sprikle the contents along with the blood. With a few chants, the blood begins to glow. The ground beneath it begins to grumble. At the same time the confessional loses its enchantment. The Crusader breaks the confessional wall and all like paper. He emerges in front of the bloody ground.

The ground begins to break apart. It swells up and starts to form a figure. A humanoid figure starts to rises. Covered in white with a few drops of read on the neck area, it continues to rise with its head bowed down very low. It continued to rise until it is floating in thin air.

The warlock chants another set and then shouts the last words.

"Prince of crime. Duke of death. Saint of malice."
"Arise!"

And then the figure raises his head and looks at the warlock with a smile.

The warlock knelt down as if to pray.

"Saint of Malice. I pray to thee. Get rid of my enemies. Let the suffering end."

The Saint of Malice rotated his head all the way around without moving his body still while floating in the air. And there in its white-robed glory, the Joker, the Saint of Malice faces the Batman, the Dark Crusader under the faint light of the moon and the prying eyes of God's images.

After that gloom acquiantance, the Joker rotates his body in a large circular motion. His blades, still in his hand reaches the warlocks neck. The warlock's body drops forward, with his head going the opposite.

The Joker's body is now in its proper orientation, facing Batman. Its body is now bathed ny an uncanny light from the cathedral windows. His face glorified by the lights of the large chandeliers. He bows down his head to meet the Crusader eye to eye. The Joker makes a biger smile as he opens his mouth and whisper.

"Batman".

"Forgive them."

"For they do not know what they're doing."

He ended with a maniacal laugh. He looks up the ceiling while still laughing and starts to rise agin. He rose higher and higher while laughing. Until he breaks the glass roofs of the cathedral and was finally floating up towards the open sky.

The glass showers the Batman with tiny crystals like snow on winter.

The clock strikes 12.