(Okay, Batman, you want me to file a report on the case? Here's my fucking report: )
I just spent three and a half days of my life in the hands of a complete lunatic, getting my ass zapped, my face slapped, and then nearly sailing off into the wild blue yonder on a goddam weather balloon. NOT MY IDEA OF A GOOD TIME.
This Tempest guy is one twisted motherfucker. I'm sure that's not the clinical term for whatever he's got, but I honestly don't give a shit. I hope he fries.
Thanks for somehow crawling out of that sandbox and rescuing me in the nick of time, Batman. I don't know how you did it, but I'm damn glad you did.
I'm NOT so happy to get chewed out for trying to save YOU in the first place, and I would have appreciated a second or two of "Hey, are you okay?" when we got back to the Cave before being told--hell, ordered--to write up a report on the Tempest. In my "Robin voice," no less. Nothing like a little homework after a near-death experience.
Speaking of home, I haven't been there in days. Why not? Because I'VE BEEN STRAPPED TO A FUCKING COT SOMEWHERE. Didn't have anything to eat during most of that time; had to BEG to take a piss. And, oh yes, I ALMOST DIED.
This shit is for the birds. Count me out, Batman. I'm going home.
I quit.