jla_watchtower | Humble Beginings

The first articles of clothing he found smelled sour. A shirt and painter's overall's, stained with chemicals and the refuse of the dumpster in which they were found, has sufficed until he could acquire something cleaner. It would have been easier to simply take what he needed. He could have even rationalized the theft with silent promises to pay for them later, but it would have remained theft and he was reticent to begin dabbling in petty sins so early in his new life.

The stern cold eyes of the Spectre upon him when the thought occurred might also have factored into the decision.

So it was that Ras Al Ghul did something that he had not done in a long time in life. He swallowed his pride. Wearing his disheveled dumpster won clothes, he walked into the soup kitchen at the end of town. It was a humble place run by the local church. The priest and volunteers were open and kind and treated him with respect. The food was simple but filling and he expressed his gratitude at the offer of clean clothes and a place to rest. ‘Ras Al Ghul, the beggar'.

He had expected the Spectre to mock him, but it did not. The vengeful wraith was more complex than he had believed. It's manner seemed markedly different than before. Something about their union had influenced the spirit's character. It chilled him to think that the effect might be two sided.

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"So, where are you from?" asked the elderly cleric as he came by, bearing a tub to take away the empty plates.

"Many places." He replied. It was an honest answer at least and his tone pleaded that this particular line of inquiry stopped there.

Quickly clearing the table, the gray haired priest grinned openly.

"A world traveler eh? How long have you been in Sandy Brook?"

"I have only just arrived last evening."
Having finished his soup, he stood and began to assist with the clean up tasks.

A bit later, after the kitchen had been scoured clean, they found themselves at the front steps of the church.

Smoke curled around the pastor's fingers as he held a cigarette casual. His eyes where sharp like a birds as he watched the strange newcomer.

"You don't strike me as our typical guest."

"Oh?"

It wasn't his intention to be rude in his terseness, however the details of his past would be ...complicated to delve into.

The pastor's eyes held a gleam of recognition.

"I don't want to pry, but you're probably the healthiest example of a human being, I've ever seen.
Your eyes are clear, your skin is unblemished, you don't seem like a drinker or a smoker, and your vocabulary reminds me of a college professor."

He put out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and tossed the butt into a garbage can.

"So like I said, I think it's pretty safe to say that you're not our typical type of guest."

Looking at the pack of cigarettes in his hand, he decided against a second smoke and pocketed the pack.

"If you've got a past, that's fine. I don't want to try and make you talk about it if you don't want to. I do want to let you know that if you need help getting back on your feet, we're here to help you."

Ras' face was cast in shadow with the illumination from the church backlighting him, but his eyes glimmered in the starlight.

"Thank you."

His voice was sincere but a bit distant. The solace the cleric offered was tempting, and that alone gave him cause to withdraw.

The priest shrugged and smiled. He clapped a hand on Ras' shoulder as he made his way back into the church.

"Well if you ever want to talk..."
He left the obvious conclusion of his sentiment unspoken.

Some time later, after watching the cloudy sky and smelling the air, he spoke.

"Why am I here?"

"There is great evil in this township Ras Al Ghul.
It is our task to grind it under our heel and snuff it out."

The Spectre's voice rang in his ears.
He was glad that the streets were deserted this late at night. It would only complicate matters to draw attention to himself as a transient talking to the air.

"Yes, I rather suspected that would be the theme." He replied a bit tartly.

The Spectre's presence within him was sometimes a bit oppressive and he found that that the serenity he found in the afterlife was often tested now that he was flesh and blood once more.

"Is it possible that you might have more specific information regarding what draws us here?"

Us. How easily that rolled from his tongue. It unsettled him slightly.

The spirit of Vengeance seemed to ignore it's host's tone for the moment.

"The innocent are subjected to the torments of hate's legacy."

That was irritating.

"Why so cryptic ghost?
Are you so inured to the suffering of mortals that you have time to make a game of their perils?"

"Do not judge what you do not understand." Came the cold reply.

"As you seek to contain my essence, so do you restrict my influence."

The implications left him cold.

The Spectre's power and awareness was vast. In truth it's limits were beyond his full understanding, and it seemed that in order to harness it, he had only to give over his own control.

Visions of this sleepy town under a rain of biblical fire and it's residents being turned to pillars of salt danced across his mind.

The Spectre's hollow laugh echoed in his consciousness.

"Fear is a poor advisor."

He recognized his own words the Spectre taunted him with now.
Even so, he could sense the terrible wrath that motivated the terrible angel. Mercy would not figure into actions if given full reign. There would be needless attrition caught up in it's righteous and fiery path to Judgment.

"I think I will investigate this matter in my own way."

He felt the ghost's immortal will press against his own.

"Very well Ras Al Ghul, but do not tarry. I have only so much patience."

Humble Beginings

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