TB: Twisted Souls ch. 9

Chapter 9: A Strangely Demonic Alliance


"Dr. Strange, Dr. Strange!"

"Sir, as the chief of psychiatry at Arkham Asylum, what's your take on this mass breakout that occurred earlier in the week?"

"Are the rumors of an inside job true, Professor Strange?"

"Dr. Strange!"

"Just one interview sir, just one!  I could lose my job if I don't get the one interview!"

"What's your take on the security at the asylum, Professor?"

"Professor Strange!"

He was finding himself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of reporters hawking him, and was rather at a loss for what to say.  However, he wasn't one to show that he was ever off his guard, and all the reaction he gave was merely a raising of his eyebrows.

"If any minds are curious as to my thoughts on the matter," Hugo Strange said slowly, steepling his fingers as the cameras flashed in his face repeatedly, "I do not dismiss the possibility that an employee within the walls of the asylum assisted my patients in their escape."

Instantly the notebooks were whipped out and the murmuring started up, several of the press looking both astonished and hungry, greedy for the story.  One of the reporters, a young redheaded lady named Vicky Vale, turned to her cameraman and said, "You are hearing this live, right from the mouth of Professor Strange, the chief of psychiatry from Arkham Asylum!  The doctor has just proclaimed that he's not dismissing the chance that the massive breakout from the asylum earlier in the week was the result of an inside job!"

"Indeed, Miss Vale," Strange decided to address her directly, stepping between the crowd with ease, and the young reporter jumped, spun on the spot and stared up at him with wide blue eyes.

"Professor Strange?  What has led you to believe this could be an inside job on the breakout?" she asked, recovering quickly, holding her microphone out to him.  Rather than looking at the camera, Strange kept eye contact with the woman.

"I've experienced previous trouble with certain members of my staff in prior circumstances," he replied, and when her blue eyes went wider than before, he continued, "For instance, a Miss Davis within Arkham's employ has shown signs of possible mental instability herself, and her brother, an inmate among those who escaped, has been a trigger for some of her more…irrational behavior.  There is also an orderly by the name of Gabriel Williams who has become dangerously close to some of the criminals whom he looks after.  And considering Miss Davis disappeared in the aftermath of the initial breakout and Mr. Williams has been avoiding all attempts to communicate with him, I think it highly likely that my employees are suspect and hiding vital information from me.  A most concerning matter indeed, Miss Vale."

There, that had done it.  Now, she would of course, inquire as to whether or not firing the orderlies was an option.

"And do you feel these employees deserve termination, Professor Strange?" Vicky asked, once more thrusting her microphone into his face.  He smiled indulgently.

"Frankly Miss Vale, innocent until proven guilty.  However, I do intend to interrogate Mr. Williams and Miss Davis, should she resurface in the next few days.  And if I find any evidence of assisting the patients, then I will doubtless need to question whether my orderlies themselves require…inauguration into the asylum."

A hush fell over the crowd, and several faces were staring at him with wide eyes, stunned.  For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the school bell rang, and children began to flood the school yard on the other side of the high, chain-linked fence, breaking the spell.  The press began to mutter amongst themselves again, still watching Professor Hugo Strange as he turned his attention to the schoolyard.  A young boy, no older than seven or eight, was walking toward them.  He seemed a little tall for his age, with a heart-shaped face, light brown hair, and bright green eyes that scanned them with a practiced, distrustful manner.

"Ah, Gawain.  How was school today?" Strange asked the boy in conversational way.  The boy tore his eyes from the reporters and looked up to the man, but another reporter jumped in before he could properly answer.

"Professor Strange!  I heard it said that you'd adopted a son!  Is this the boy then?" the press agent asked, thrusting his mic forward, and Vicky smacked her cameraman again, directing him to focus on the little brunette kid, who was staring back with an unreadable expression.

"Ahh, yes." Strange replied, smiling again and putting a massive hand on the boy's shoulder.  "This is Gawain.  Gawain, don't be shy, say hello."

Gawain Strange looked up at his adopted father, blinking his green eyes, and then turned back to the press agents.  For a moment, it seemed he wouldn't say anything, but then his small, heart-shaped face broke into a charming smile.

"Good afternoon, sirs and ma'am," he trilled, "It's very nice to meet all of you!"

Instantly he had them won over, ooing and cooing at how polite and sweet he was.  Vicky Vale turned back to her camera, feverishly giving a report on the extreme generosity of Hugo Strange and his current excellent fathering, detailed opinions, and obvious professional values.  Several other reporters snapped pictures of Gawain and asked him how he was enjoying life with his new father.  The boy smiled warmly at them all, assuring the adults that he was perfectly happy, and couldn't have asked for a better dad even if he'd tried.  Finally, the press drew such a crowd of parents and children that the school security arrived to allow Hugo Strange and Gawain the chance to leave peacefully.  Gawain clambered into the studebaker first, determinedly not looking at the crowd, and even Strange found himself grateful for the opportunity to get away from the press.

"How was school today, Gawain?" he repeated the earlier question bluntly, as he had asked every school day after he'd adopted the boy.

"Fine." the boy responded automatically in bored tones.  "The other kids are going to tease me about this."

"And what makes you say that?" Hugo asked, though he was positive he already knew the answer.

"Because I'm going to be on TV and they're not." came the dull response.

"That is a very high possibility indeed.  And what are you going to do if they tease you?"

"…I don't know." the boy answered, sounding completely astonished, and he turned to look up to Hugo with a surprised expression on his face.  "I didn't think about that."  Then his face darkened, and he added in a quieter voice, "But I'm still going to get teased.  Mark Hampton's going to tease me worst of all."

Ah.  Mark Hampton again, Strange mused.  Gawain seemed to enjoy bringing that boy's name up in school-related conversations at least three out of the five days he spent at school.  Wonderful to think Gawain already had a focal point for his anger.  Now if it could just be cultivated right…

"That Mark Hampton," Strange said slowly, "Is not a very nice boy, Gawain."

"Yeah, no kidding." the child muttered.

"I imagine he enjoys being a bully and treating you and your fellow classmates poorly.  And the teachers don't notice because he always seems to be nice whenever they are around."  he went on, casually throwing out stereotypes.

"Yeah, all the teachers think he's nice." Gawain said darkly, his expression thunderous.  "They don't believe me if I try to tell them what he does."

"Then only you know who is at fault here." Strange said, and when the boy gave him a puzzled look, he elaborated, "Mark.  It is Mark's fault the teachers aren't listening to you, because he has them convinced he's a good boy."

Gawain slowly nodded.

"And only you can do something to show them he isn't."  Strange declared, taking a left turn onto a main road.

"But what?!" the boy asked in exasperation.

"I wouldn't know," the man answered calmly, "After all, if the teachers aren't listening when you try to talk to them, it's time to take matters into your own hands.  And that means you must use your imagination, Gawain."

"I can't get in a fight in school," the boy muttered, jumping to the obvious conclusion, "I can get in big trouble."

"But," Strange pointed out, "If Mark tries to start a fight with you and he hits you first, you are allowed to hit back to protect yourself.  But only if he hits you first."

"Why is that?"

"Because the school has special cameras on the inside of the building all over the place.  The cameras are supposed to be there to keep you safe.  And if the cameras show Mark hitting you first, then the teachers will know he started the fight."

"I'm still not sure that's a good idea.  And anyway, I'd have to find a good camera." he muttered.

"I'm sure you will think of something, Gawain.  You're a very bright boy and you have a wonderful imagination." Strange reassured him.  When the boy said nothing but stared moodily out the window, he added for good measure, "And by the by, you ought to be careful.  I was just talking to your principal the other day about those stairways in your school.  I know that you need them to get to some of your classes on the upper floor, but they're so steep and the janitors wax them all the time.  One wrong move, and you could get hurt very badly."

He was focused on the road, but Strange caught the child looking at him from the corner of his eye.  At first the boy looked puzzled, then frowned as though he thought the advice pointless, and then his eyes widened.  The psychiatrist could almost hear the gears turning in that little mind, and suddenly, a wicked smile spread over the boy's face.  If the press had thought him lovable before, they would be frightened of him now, so demonic was the look on his face.  And as they came to a stop behind a few other cars at an intersection, the bright green eyes glittering maliciously as they caught his gaze, Gawain spoke in sweet, honey-coated tones,

"Of course, Dad.  I'll be very careful."

And Hugo Strange smiled.



One might think it horrendous that a child would be brought to an asylum every day after school, especially when the asylum in question went by the name of Arkham, but Gawain Strange was not an ordinary child.  The first few times when his new father had brought him to the place he worked, the boy had been frightened, terrified.  But he was determined not to show his fear, not when he had a new dad to impress, and he found with each passing day, it grew easier to come here.  He began to notice what Strange was saying—these criminals, these patients—were people too, but they were sick.

Sick in their minds, he'd said.

Gawain had never thought it was possible for someone's brain to get sick, but there you have it.  And these sick people were his new dad's patients, because his dad was a special kind of doctor who was trying to help these sick people get better.  A glow of admiration surrounded the boy each time he thought of this, realizing what a noble, kind person his father was.

Far be it from Gawain to be selfish and tell his dad he didn't want to be here!  Not when his dad had people to help!

They were passing the cells where the patients stayed, like one big sleepover or something, and Gawain caught himself staring at the doors again.  He wasn't supposed to, because it made some of the sick people upset, but at times he couldn't help himself.  They were rounding a corner when they heard shouting, and came across a handful of orderlies and a doctor, all wearing tinfoil hats and struggling to hold a patient, who was kicking and snarling and attempting to break free.  It startled Gawain for the merest second, but he recovered, remembering that the men were trying to help the person.

The patient in question was a young man, most likely a teenager, with pale skin and blonde hair, and he was stubbornly insisting, again and again, that he had to 'see Ivy.'

"Now, Lee, be reasonable—" the doctor began, but the young man cut him off.

"You're trying to keep me from her!  I know you are!  You lied to me!  And the name is Pandemonium!" he shouted.

"Restrain him!" the doctor ordered, and several guards rushed to the scene in an attempt to assist the orderlies.

"What in the name of heaven is going on here?" Strange's voice cut through like a knife, and immediately they all went still.  Gawain looked up at his dad, thoroughly impressed at the respect he commanded.
"Nothing, Professor Strange." the doctor spoke up first, a nervous quaver in his voice.  "Lee here—"

"They won't let me see Ivy!" the young man protested angrily.

As Hugo Strange approached them to further discuss the matter, Gawain followed, and tentatively came up toward the patient.  The orderlies looked at him in horror and started whispering among themselves, and one of the guards actually attempted to push him away, saying he should stay back.

"And what gives you the right, Mr. Hancork," Strange said slowly at this, an unusually steely edge to his voice, "To think that you can physically lay hands upon my son?"

The guard went whiter than a sheet, releasing Gawain and stammering at the doctor, and the boy inched a little closer to the patient, staring up at him, his expression skeptical.  The young man caught his gaze and snorted.

"What're you lookin' at?" he demanded, making Gawain jump.

"H-hi." the latter said, a little shyly, but the next second he felt a tickle in his head.

Jump.  Go jump off the overhang.  Give ol' Strange a good scare.

Pandemonium's voice in his head was compelling, inviting, and the idea sounded like a good one, but a storm of fury rose in the younger boy, and he found the voice and focused all his anger at it, hating it, driving it away and crushing it to dust.

Pandemonium suddenly gave a cry of pain and surprise, collapsing to his knees, drawing the attention of all.  Gawain watched him, and when Pan looked up, the boy's green eyes glared at him coldly, two emerald chips of ice.

"That was rude." he declared, crossing his arms.  "You owe me an apology."

"I owe you nothing, kid." Pan spat, mental tendrils reaching for Gawain's mind again, only to be repelled by wall of anger so powerful he cried out again.  Panting, shivering, Pan looked up and saw all the orderlies, the guards, and his doctor staring at them both, wide-eyed.  If Professor Strange was surprised, he either wasn't showing it, or he got over things quickly, because he was watching the kid with an approving smile.

That smile terrified Pan more than anything else, and he looked away, choosing instead to meet the gaze of the boy.

What was wrong with this kid?  All that anger pent up inside that tiny form…and used as a mental weapon!

Stupid, Pan, he told himself, Thinking you can control him just because he's a kid!

The boy began to tap his foot impatiently, and the teen sighed.

"Sorry, kid.  I didn't mean to be rude," he said slowly, and the boy smiled, though his eyes remained as cold and hard as before.

"Good," he said, "It's not nice to say mean things."

"But he didn't…" one of the orderlies started to whisper, and the others' eyes went even wider.

"Yeah, I guess not," Pandemonium agreed mulishly.

"Maybe if you're good," Gawain remarked, his voice honey-sweet again, "They'll let you see this Ivy you're talking about."

"What's your name, kid?" Pan asked, determined not to be mocked about Pamela Isley again and wanting to figure out just what the—

"I'm Gawain Strange." the boy answered, holding out his hand for a shake.  "Nice to meet you."

Lee's eyes widened in abject terror and he looked from the boy to the doctor whom all of Arkham came to fear, seeing a smile so dangerous, it ripped a scream from his throat.



The boy had been, admittedly, shaken when Lee had screamed at him, but he seemed to be recovering quickly, already seating himself at the smaller desk set up in Hugo's office and pulling out his homework.  He glanced up as he opened his pencil case, and Strange gave him an approving nod.

Already the child was beginning to show signs, and at such a young age, too.  Still, there were many more things to set in motion, habits to instill as well as break, and different areas of his mind to explore.  The boy only had one problem thus far, and to Strange, it was already a stark, infectious thorn in his side.

The issue of trust.

The second Strange had taken him home he had told the boy, "Trust no one, not even me."

Naturally, the child had been confused by these words, as children are given to trust their parents and family.  Strange had gone on to explain both the conscious and unconscious betrayals made by people around one, and had sat the boy down and given him the best examples he could think of without making things too graphic.  After all, whether he was trying to raise his own criminal mind or not, there were simply some things that had to be expose to the mind at later times and Strange respected that.  The conversation had gone on for quite some time, resulting in the discovery the boy harbored resentment toward his birth parents for abandoning him, and by the end of it all, Strange had set the child off to bed, satisfied with the dark look that had been on the young face.

And for the most part, Gawain had become distrustful of others to the point where he was well on his way to developing a mild case of paranoia.

Except with Strange.

The boy simply didn't seem to realize that the 'no trust' rule applied to him as well, and it bothered Strange to think the child wasn't following his orders to the letter.  He would have to work on that.

There was an abrupt knock at the door, and the professor closed the file he'd been going through.  "Come in," he called simply, and Gawain glanced up from his homework as the orderly Gabriel Williams entered the room, looking apprehensive.

"You wanted to see me, Doctor?" the young man asked, the quaver in his voice belying his brave face.

"Indeed.  Please take a seat, Mr. Williams." Strange said, gesturing toward the chair on the other side of his desk.

"Some-body's in trouuublllle…." Gawain murmured in a singsong way under his breath, a malicious grin on his face as he eyed Gabe.  The orderly jumped, spinning around to look at him, then relaxed a little, his expression going stony.

"Cute kid, sir." he grumbled angrily.

"Yes, thank you," Strange said absently, waving a hand, "Let us talk, Mr. Williams."

"What about, sir?" Gabe asked, sitting in the chair.

"For several months now, you have been Miss Zai's orderly."  Strange declared.

"Yes, sir." Gabe nodded, his worst fears confirmed: Strange had dragged Zai into the conversation.  Clearly, this wasn't going to end well.

"I have allowed you to remain her orderly on good faith thus far, Mr. Williams, though at times you've exhibited behaviors and choices that reflect poorly on your judgment, and frankly, you've grown attached to your patient."

"Tha-that—" the orderly started, but he was cut off almost immediately.

"Do not presume to believe you have the permission or authority to interrupt me, Mr. Williams, and do not try denying to me the obvious.  You have begun to develop feelings of a questionable nature toward a patient, which lead to the aforementioned poor choices and sketchy behavior of one whose judgment has become clouded by their emotions."  Strange intoned, making Gabriel Williams fidget in his seat.  Gawain was listening intensely, not even bothering to try making a pretense of doing his homework, riveted by the conversation.

"Sir, I assure you—" Gabe attempted to talk again.

"Did I give you permission to speak, Mr. Williams?" Strange asked nonchalantly, and when the orderly fell silent with a stutter, he went on, "No?  I thought not.  Let us proceed to the point, then.  Though I have allowed you to remain Miss Zai's orderly, you've shown a pattern of giving into her demands, most likely stemming from desires coaxed by whatever empty promises she's made to you in return for favors.  Lately, I've seen no evidence of your caving to her requests.  I would presume she hadn't been making any.  I would have been delighted of course, to think this the case, but in light of recent events, I fear I must retract this line of thought."

For a moment Gabriel stared at him in confusion, then the implication dawned on him, making his eyes go wide, and his skin drained of color, breaking out in a sweat.  He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no sound came out, and he had to work at it a couple of times before he managed to get out anything.

"You…you're not saying," the orderly croaked, "You don't think I helped Zai and those other patients escape?!"

"Doubtless you had no hand in the initial breakout." Strange said in a reassuring voice.  "There were others involved there, clearly friends of Miss Davis, as she disappeared with them once Miss Zai, Miss Curio, and Miss Pendragon were secured.  Of that I am positive."

Gabe could only stare at the psychiatrist in horror.

"However, afterwards more patients escaped.  I trust you know the individuals in question of whom I speak?"

The younger man swallowed over the lump in his throat and answered, "Yes.  The Penguin, Clayface, Spellbinder and…and Joker."

"Ahh," said the shrink, a satisfied sneer working its way over his features, "So you do know."

"What?  No, that's not—I didn't—I mean—"

"Then I trust you also are aware," Strange talked over him, "That four different cell keys were discovered missing on the same morning of their escape?"

"P-Professor, you can't think—"

"I am making no declarations, Mr. Williams.  Innocent until proven guilty, after all.  However," his voice took on that steely tone again, "I am placing you on probation."

"WHAT?!"  Gabe shot up from the chair, "Probation?!  Why—"

"Be glad I am not terminating your contract, Mr. Williams," came the calm answer, "But it cannot be denied that, given both your history with your favorite patient and the circumstances surrounding these breakouts, evidence points to an inside job.  Naturally people will want the reassurance that such individuals with such dangerous connections are either fired…or institutionalized.  But again, until we are presented with incriminating evidence, such courses of actions are too rash."

Gabe bit his lower lip, clenching his fists at his sides, wanting to scream and shout, to wipe that triumphant smile off of the psychiatrist's face.  Still, he'd seen what had happened to Adrian when she'd lost her temper with Strange before, and he kept a tight rein on his anger.  Poor Adrian!  She wasn't even here, and Strange was still coming down on her just as hard!

"Understood, Professor." he managed to say between his clenched teeth.

"Excellent, Mr. Williams," Strange said with a low chuckle, "Perhaps if you don't repeat your mistakes, I'll withdraw probation.  But be aware: I will be watching you very closely."

The young man shuddered, glanced between the psychiatrist and his adopted son, and fled the room without a word, moving as though the devil himself were on his heels.

"You really think he did that, Dad?" Gawain asked quietly, once the door had shut.  "That he helped those sick people get out?"

"Oh, I am almost positive he did." Strange answered at once.  "Not because he was doing it to be bad, Gawain, but because he let some of the more dangerous patients talk him into helping them escape.  Some of the patients who are dangerous to others as much as they are to themselves, Gawain."

"So they brain-washed him?" Gawain scrunched up his nose in confusion.

"In a manner of speaking." Hugo answered, indulging the child's imagination.  Gawain was left to ponder this for a while, and the minutes stretched into hours as the two focused on their work, Gawain tackling grade school arithmetic, Strange writing when he wasn't seeing the odd patient every now and then.  Night fell, and it was shortly before supper that something happened.

Professor Strange was about to call down to one of the orderlies to fetch the evening meals for himself and Gawain, when there was a knock at the door.  He frowned, quickly checking his timetables.  There were no patients scheduled at this hour, and surely the other psychiatrists beneath him would have thought to let him know they were coming ahead of time.  No disasters were occurring, or he would have been radioed about it, and it wasn't the knock of an orderly or a guard.  They usually had tentative knocks that lasted for three taps, then waited, a sign that indicated apprehension.  This was a sharp insistent rap without breaks—knockknockknockknockKNOCK!—indicating impatience.  Perhaps an air of arrogance, as well.  Most intriguing.

"Come in." Strange boomed, making Gawain jump.

The door opened to admit a tall man in billowing, high-collared green robes whose age was impossible to determine, flanked by several men dressed from head to toe in black, toting all manner of far-eastern weaponry.  They held themselves at ease, even as they surrounded the robed man, clearly confident in their assumption that Professor Hugo Strange posed their master no threat.  The man in question had jet-black hair streaked with white, slicked back against his head, a short, Fu Manchu-clipped beard on the sides of his chin, and dark-ringed, ice-blue eyes that shone with an ancient, honed madness.

Strange found he was liking the man already.

"Ah…Ra's Al Ghul, I presume?" he asked airily.  He'd never seen the Demon's Head before, but had heard numerous reports of his operations throughout the world, as well as the same description of the man over and over.  Frankly, he wasn't sure whether they did Ra's justice or not.

"I see my reputation precedes me." he said, a corner of his mouth twitching upward, "As does yours, Professor Hugo Strange."

"Forgive my manners," the psychiatrist commented, "Please, feel free to sit."

"I'll remain standing, if you'll forgive my manners," Ra's answered coolly.  A few of his guards shuffled on their feet, hands reaching down to rest on the hilts of katanas, watching Strange with a casual, relaxed air.  Doubtless Ra's had them trained to kill within seconds at a mere gesture.

"Forgiven," he replied, just as calm.  Trained killers he could deal with.  They definitely put a hamper in a conversation, but Strange didn't fear them.  After all, he had his own ace in the hole.  "I take it you wish to speak with me, given your sudden appearance in my office."

"Naturally." said Ra's, and when Strange gave him a slow nod, he went on, "You see, I have come to Gotham in search of an item which has far greater value than any normal person may realize."

"Go on," Strange said, steepling his fingers.

"I have reason to believe that it might be in the possession of one of your patients." Ra's declared bluntly.

"While I appreciate you not bandying about the subject," Strange said, tilting his head to the side, "I find it rather difficult to believe such a notion.  The inmates are not allowed to keep personal belongings when they are brought here, and any found are immediately confiscated."

"Be that as it may," Ra's said with a polite nod, "I still believe one of your patients has what I am looking for.  Or at the very least, they know where to find it."

"Though I must admit I find myself curious to know what it is you so ardently seek, I am more curious as to which of my patients in particular you speak of." Strange said, tapping his fingertips against each other and watching Ra's carefully.  The older man's face tightened as he glared, and his guards tensed, gripping the hilts of their swords, ready to spring into action.

"An indirect question," Ra's observed, "Which I shall temporarily choose to ignore.  You are trying my patience, Professor Strange, something that is both difficult to accomplish and highly dangerous."

"You flatter me." Strange smiled.

"I speak the truth.  I'm going to give you one opportunity and one alone, to agree to divulge your patient's whereabouts." came the curt snap.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you are a dead man."

"You do realize I need to know the identity of this patient before I can tell you anything."

"You do realize I have seven professionally trained men at my beck and call, waiting to dispose of your overweight corpse."

"Hard not to notice them when they're tracking mud all over my new carpeting."

"Agree to this, and I'll not only tell you who I seek, but I may let you keep your life, minus your tongue." Ra's growled.

"Tell me who this patient is, and I might just tell you where to find them." Strange answered, tilting his head again, his smile growing wider.

"Your window of opportunity is slipping away, Professor Strange."

"Of course!" he said airily, "You first."

There followed a tense silence in which the air in the room seemed to grow thick and stifling as Ra's glared at Strange, and Strange smiled back, completely unconcerned.

"Is that a real sword?" came an abrupt question, making Ra's and his men jump.  Gawain had sidled over to them, and was now poking at one of the swords carried by the man closest to Ra's.

"Don't touch that, it's not a toy!" the man in black said, trying to brush him away.

"I want to see it." Gawain declared stubbornly, crossing his arms and scowling up at the masked face.

"I never heard you had a child, Professor." Ra's said quietly, staring down at the boy with an astonished expression, blinking slowly as though he couldn't quite believe the child was real.

"Gawain is my son," Hugo Strange answered proudly, "I only recently adopted him, and I must say, he's turning out to be quite the precocious young mind.  Though I do apologize for his manners.  Gawain, it's impolite to go prodding at the sword of a man who's been trained to kill you."

"Sorry," the boy mumbled, still glaring at the man as he took a step back.  He turned and scowled at Ra's, scrunching up his nose again.  "But it's rude to say things like that to my dad.  Threatening to kill people isn't nice."

"Why, he's utterly charming!" Ra's gasped, truly delighted.  "Rather dark for one so young…but I take it that's why you're raising him, Strange."

"You're excruciatingly observant, Ra's." Strange said.

"Now who's being the flatterer?  Child, do you like that katana?"

Gawain blinked in surprise, then nodded.

"Perhaps you could have one of your own.  Would you like that?"

"A little, I guess.  Swords are cool." the boy mumbled, his eyes briefly flicking back to katana.

"I think I've garnered a general idea of your mission with the boy, Strange," Ra's said in low undertones, "And while I find it both admirable and fascinating, I see one flaw in your carefully laid plans."

A vein pulsed angrily in the psychiatrist's bare temple, but his voice was carefully controlled when he asked, "And what might that be?"

"He'll need training."

"Certainly."

"And please take no offense to this statement, but I doubt you are the best to teach him in the arts of combat."

"I don't presume to delude myself with the notion that I am.  But I suppose you think yourself qualified?"

"I do," said Ra's, "And that is a service which I shall freely give."

"My thanks." said Strange.

"Don't thank me just for that, Professor Strange.  Your boy has won you your life, and my respect." Ra's murmured, bowing at the waist.

Strange smirked.  Ace in the hole.

"I am grateful then, that you have taken such a liking to my son and I."

"You are welcome," Ra's answered, finally taking the chair.  "I do admit, I find an intellect such as yours a pleasant departure from the norm.  You would make an excellent partner."

"Why not then?" Strange asked.  "I am curious about your mission, Ra's Al Ghul.  I find you intriguing, a fascinating subject, and I would be most delighted to assist you in any way I can."

"Let him look at it, Mahken," Ra's said irritably to the guard who continued to shield his katana from Gawain's view, before turning back to Strange, "I think you are a very dangerous man, Professor Strange."

"No more so than yourself." the latter offered humbly.

"…You raise a fair point.  And I could use a connection in Gotham city, let alone one who is privy to the information I seek.  Though I fail to see what you stand to gain by offering a partnership to the table."

"The question you need to really be weighing about such a partnership, Ra's," Hugo Strange replied, "Is what do you have to lose?"

For a long moment, both men stared at each other with calculating, skeptical gazes.  Finally, much to the astonishment of his men, Ra's' face broke into a rare smile and he extended his hand.

"Welcome aboard then, Professor Strange.  I look forward to seeing what this brings about."

And a smile so frightening to be made of the stuff of nightmares spread over the psychiatrist's features, making his own son jump back as he shook the offered hand.

"As do I, Ra's.  Now tell me; which of my patients do you seek?"