The Warrior, Part 1

The Warrior, Part 1 of 3


The master was leading him through the village. As they walked by, Bruce Wayne noticed a woman sitting at a table in the shade off to one side.

"A fortune-teller," the master commented, noticing Wayne's curious look.

Wayne walked over toward her. The woman looked up at Wayne. Their eyes made contact. The woman paused, then looked down at a strange-looking deck of cards she had on the table in front of her.

Slowly, she turned some cards over. Wayne read the English-language inscriptions on the bottoms of the three cards: The World; Darkness; Evil.

The woman looked up at him, and studied his face closely, making frequent eye contact. Then she turned over three more cards: The Warrior; Justice; The Magician.

Wayne looked at her, as she closed her eyes.

"What do the cards mean?" he asked. The master translated his question. The woman opened her eyes, got up, went inside the hut behind her, and came back out with a rolled-up paper in her hands. She said something to the master.

"She says they indicate your destiny," the master translated. Then he added, "It is inappropriate for her to ask for anything in return, but she needs to make a living. She supports an old mother and a young daughter."

Wayne pulled out a ten-dollar bill and showed it to the master. "Is this enough?"

"That's quite generous. With that, she will be able to survive a week or more."

Wayne began to give it to the woman.

"Offer it to her with both hands, bowing in humility and respect," the master cautioned.

The woman bowed as she accepted Wayne's money, then held out to him the rolled-up paper, offering it to him with both hands. With her head bowed a little, she said something to him.

"Your destiny," translated the master.

Wayne bowed as he accepted the paper from her. Curious, he unrolled it and looked at it: it was a drawing of a bat.



Alfred looked at him. Bruce Wayne was staring at a drawing and a statue he had picked up years ago in Asia. He was deep in thought. Alfred hated to disturb him.

Silently and without turning, Wayne had anticipated him. "I think you sleep even less than I do, Alfred."

"You don't say."

He smiled at Alfred's response.

"Is everything okay, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, just thinking Alfred."



The master led him back out to the periphery of the village, where they had been the day that Wayne was told that "The Ancient" was coming -- the day the master disappeared.

"Before 'The Ancient' works with you, you have a test," the master said.

"What kind of test?" Wayne asked.

"It's a surprise. Just stand here," the master answered.

Wayne looked around. He studied the sights and sounds. Ahead of him was the boulder with the tree and the road, where the master had disappeared the other day. On either side of that were the cultivated plots of the villagers. Off to the right, and somewhat behind them, a child was crying. Behind him, he could hear foreign music coming from the village. Behind him and to his left, he could hear some voices. He didn't understand the language, but it sounded like some men were arguing.

In the distance, he could hear a motorcycle. The sound came from in front of him, and it was getting louder. It was approaching fast; it seemed like it was coming through the forest, probably down that road in front of him that went past the boulder.

This was it! he thought.

Out of the forest came the motorcyclist, a young man, in his late teens or early twenties. The motorcycle was loud, and left a great deal of exhaust behind it. The young man had a helmet on, but was not wearing it correctly. In the heat of the summer day, he had the helmet sitting high up on his head, exposing his entire face to the cooling wind from in front of him.

Ready, Wayne waited for the motorcycle. It came down the road straight for him, and, at the last moment, slowed down some, passed to his right, then went behind him through the clearing and down a dusty village street. It went past the arguing men, and proceeded off into the distance, likely on to the next village.

Wayne glanced at the master. Behind the master, off near a hut, he could see the crying child. He turned a little, and looked at the child. About four years old -- was it a little girl?

"What's the matter with the child?" Wayne asked.

"Lost, probably," replied the master. "Deliberately so, more than likely," he added drily.

"What do you mean?"

"It happens quite often. A young woman has more children than she can maintain. So, she brings one of them, usually a girl, into the nearest village, and leaves her there," the master explained. "Boys are more valuable. When they grow up and marry, their wives move in and help with the work. The resources spent raising a girl are lost, however; when she marries, she goes and helps with the work in her husband's family." Wayne turned some more, as the master continued. "Besides that, often times, their mothers themselves were left in a village somewhere when they were young, so when they fall into problems, they feel a strange sense of cosmic justice abandoning their own children."

Wayne took a step toward the girl, hesitating. "What will happen to her?"

"Someone will take her in. There is always someone happy to take in a girl," the master said. To Wayne, the answer sounded a little ominous.

"Why's that?"

"Oh, really, Mr. Wayne," began the master. "Don't be so naive. Asia is full of brothels. There is a thriving sex industry, right here in this village." Wayne looked around as the master continued. "Western men arrive in Asian cities and pay a great deal to be the first man to have sex with an underage virgin. This little girl is a commodity in demand -- one man's trash is, after all, another man's treasure." The master turned to look at the girl, as he added, "Often times, the girl is the product of the woman's unprotected sex with a foreigner, or perhaps of the woman having been raped. Again, a strange sense of cosmic justice...."

The men who were arguing had left. Near where they had been, Wayne noticed a man standing in the shadow of one of the village's stores. The man was casually looking at the little girl. Near him, an old man was sitting on a chair in front of the store. The old man glanced up at Wayne and the master, then at the man in the shade, then looked back down.

Wayne started walking over to the girl.



Alfred looked at the drawing in front of Wayne. "Thinking about what, if I may ask?"

Wayne looked at a photo. It was the criminal mastermind, Aladdin, who was leading Gotham's crime sydicate, the Mujahideen.

Above it was a statue of a bat, and next to the statue was a drawing of a bat. Next to Aladdin's photo was a photo of the Gotham Towers.

"Gotham's law enforcement services could deal with the Mujahideen, if allowed to do their work."

"Someone is not allowing them then, Master Bruce?"

"The Mujahideen have allies. Some of their allies may not intend to be or even know that they are the Mujahideen's allies, but they are the Mujahideen's allies, nevertheless."



The master followed him, a short distance behind, raising his voice some, as he continued speaking. "Really, Mr. Wayne, it is no concern of yours. It happens all over the world every day."

"Well it needs to stop." Wayne answered firmly. He arrived in front of the little girl, and looked at her. She actually was a little older than he at first had thought, maybe seven or eight; she was undernourished, and in loose-fitting raggedy clothes, making it hard to judge her age. Sobbing, she looked up at Wayne. Wayne melted as he looked into her innocent brown eyes.

"She's just one little girl, Mr. Wayne."

There was fire in Wayne's eyes as he shot an angry glance at the master. "If we leave her here, the cycle continues. Some day she will have a daughter, and that little girl will be left in a village somewhere...."

"You can't protect the world, Mr. Wayne," the master commented.