Batman Begins -

The creature dropped without sound. Not a fall—a descent , like a hanged man cut loose. Before the guard could scream, a gauntleted fist found his throat. The second guard fired blindly. Bullets sparked off cape-lined ceramic. Then darkness folded over him, and the last thing he heard was a rattle—low, guttural, the sound of a predator tasting prey.

The first guard heard only the rain. Then a whisper, not quite human, curling from the shadows: “You’ve been very sick.” Batman Begins

Bruce followed him into the mountains. The League of Shadows’ temple breathed ice. Here, a boy who had once fallen down a well learned to fall on purpose: from cliffs, from burning ropes, from the pedestal of certainty. Ra’s al Ghul, whose voice was the rustle of old parchment and older bones, taught him that justice was a scalpel, not a shield. “To fight injustice,” the ancient man whispered, “you must become something terrible .” The creature dropped without sound

He spun. Nothing. But the moisture on his neck wasn’t water. It was warm . He looked up. The second guard fired blindly

“It’s not Persian. It’s Ottoman.”

“No, sir. He said, and I quote, ‘Tell him the signal’s broken. I’ll get it fixed.’ Then he hung up.”