[Handwritten note on scrap of paper; shaky penmanship indicates fevered state]
H U G O S T R A N G E
H U G O S T R A N G E
Over.... All over... overoveroveroveroverover
Any day now. Secret's out. Career just started... so much left undone...
All WORTHLESS now.
Don't know what he wants from me... or why.
No question:
He's won. No way out.
All over. Al
most.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Saturday, January 22, 2005
111. Hugo Strange
ENJOYING YOUR RETIREMENT, BATMAN? OR SHOULD I SAY... MR. WAYNE? SPENDING A LITTLE TIME ON THE GOLF COURSE, PERHAPS? HAVEN'T SEEN OR HEARD FROM YOU FOR WEEKS, SO I CAN ONLY ASSUME YOU'VE DECIDED TO HANG UP THE COWL FOR GOOD.
A WISE DECISION ON YOUR PART, BRUCE. BUT I MUST CONFESS, I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO GIVE UP QUITE THIS EASILY. I WOULD HAVE IMAGINED IT WOULD TAKE FAR MORE THAN A DISFIGURING SKIN DISEASE, CRIPPLING NAUSEA, SPORADIC MOMENTS OF DEMENTIA, AND A MALEVOLENT IMPERSONATOR TO PUT AN END TO YOUR CAREER. BUT I SUPPOSE YOU SIMPLY AREN'T AS STRONG A MAN AS I'D IMAGINED.
PITY. I HAD SEVERAL MORE TORMENTS IN STORE FOR YOU, AND I DO HATE TO SEE THEM GO TO WASTE. PERHAPS I'LL JUST HAVE TO SCOOP YOU UP OUT OF YOUR HIDING PLACE SOMETIME WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT AND TRY THEM OUT ON YOU.
TIL THEN, SLEEP WELL. I'M SURE THE KNOWLEDGE THAT A NEW MASKED MAN HAS TAKEN YOUR PLACE IS GIVING YOU SWEET DREAMS INDEED.
A WISE DECISION ON YOUR PART, BRUCE. BUT I MUST CONFESS, I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO GIVE UP QUITE THIS EASILY. I WOULD HAVE IMAGINED IT WOULD TAKE FAR MORE THAN A DISFIGURING SKIN DISEASE, CRIPPLING NAUSEA, SPORADIC MOMENTS OF DEMENTIA, AND A MALEVOLENT IMPERSONATOR TO PUT AN END TO YOUR CAREER. BUT I SUPPOSE YOU SIMPLY AREN'T AS STRONG A MAN AS I'D IMAGINED.
PITY. I HAD SEVERAL MORE TORMENTS IN STORE FOR YOU, AND I DO HATE TO SEE THEM GO TO WASTE. PERHAPS I'LL JUST HAVE TO SCOOP YOU UP OUT OF YOUR HIDING PLACE SOMETIME WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT AND TRY THEM OUT ON YOU.
TIL THEN, SLEEP WELL. I'M SURE THE KNOWLEDGE THAT A NEW MASKED MAN HAS TAKEN YOUR PLACE IS GIVING YOU SWEET DREAMS INDEED.
Friday, January 14, 2005
110. THE GOTHAM GAZETTE
BEWARE OF BATS BEARING GIFTS
By Rush O'Reilly
Gazette Columnist
Enough is enough.
When reports first started surfacing around town of a mysterious vigilante calling himself "The Bat-Man" several years ago, most sane people wrote them off as gossip. It was an understandable reaction, to be sure. Naturally, a handful of bleeding-heart liberals soon led the charge to declare this lunatic--whose existence had never been confirmed--the savior of the city. This "Bat-Man," they bleated, was able to do something the police could not: rid Gotham of violent crime.
Well, now that a few years have passed, the so-called savior has begun to show his true colors. The recent spike in "Bat-Man" sightings--over three dozen in the last month alone, almost all of them portraying him as perpetrator rather than avenger--have confirmed what I suspected all along. Gotham City is being terrorized by a madman starved for attention. He's getting plenty of it lately, and I say it's time for his joyride to end.
Folks, this wacko in a Halloween costume is bad news. If you like the idea of vigilante justice so damn much, why not take the concept one step further: if you see this idiot yourself, shoot him.
THAT, my friends, is the only way to save our fair city.
By Rush O'Reilly
Gazette Columnist
Enough is enough.
When reports first started surfacing around town of a mysterious vigilante calling himself "The Bat-Man" several years ago, most sane people wrote them off as gossip. It was an understandable reaction, to be sure. Naturally, a handful of bleeding-heart liberals soon led the charge to declare this lunatic--whose existence had never been confirmed--the savior of the city. This "Bat-Man," they bleated, was able to do something the police could not: rid Gotham of violent crime.
Well, now that a few years have passed, the so-called savior has begun to show his true colors. The recent spike in "Bat-Man" sightings--over three dozen in the last month alone, almost all of them portraying him as perpetrator rather than avenger--have confirmed what I suspected all along. Gotham City is being terrorized by a madman starved for attention. He's getting plenty of it lately, and I say it's time for his joyride to end.
Folks, this wacko in a Halloween costume is bad news. If you like the idea of vigilante justice so damn much, why not take the concept one step further: if you see this idiot yourself, shoot him.
THAT, my friends, is the only way to save our fair city.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
109. Dick
The new year doesn't seem to be getting off to a very good start. Global catastrophes aside, the scene on the home front is just plain grim. Bruce's skin is gradually clearing up, but he's still prone to bouts of hallucination and violent outbursts every now and then. I honestly think he may be losing it.
Last night I walked into his bedroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a bathrobe. He was unshaven as usual (the razor irritates the bumps that cover his face) and had a wild look in his eyes. One of his batsuits was laid out next to him, and it looked like he'd tried to destroy it with a pair of scissors.
As I approached him, I saw that he'd been masturbating for what looked like a very long time, judging from the chafing on his penis and the sweat pouring off him. There was no trace of pleasure in the act, only anguish and anger. The man who under better circumstances is easily one of the most beautiful I've ever seen just sat there, grotesquely disfigured, jerking away, looking more like a rabid dog than anything else.
I've been wishing I could get him to seek psychological treatment, but I know the obvious hazards. God knows I've had to bite my lip in sessions with my own shrink lately, wanting so badly to tell Dr. T about what's going on and well aware that would be impossible.
Finally I blurted out, "Bruce, I know a man--a doctor--who can help you. If you want it. I trust him." I squeezed his free arm, handed him one of Tanhoger's cards, and walked away.
Happy New Year, my ass.
Last night I walked into his bedroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a bathrobe. He was unshaven as usual (the razor irritates the bumps that cover his face) and had a wild look in his eyes. One of his batsuits was laid out next to him, and it looked like he'd tried to destroy it with a pair of scissors.
As I approached him, I saw that he'd been masturbating for what looked like a very long time, judging from the chafing on his penis and the sweat pouring off him. There was no trace of pleasure in the act, only anguish and anger. The man who under better circumstances is easily one of the most beautiful I've ever seen just sat there, grotesquely disfigured, jerking away, looking more like a rabid dog than anything else.
I've been wishing I could get him to seek psychological treatment, but I know the obvious hazards. God knows I've had to bite my lip in sessions with my own shrink lately, wanting so badly to tell Dr. T about what's going on and well aware that would be impossible.
Finally I blurted out, "Bruce, I know a man--a doctor--who can help you. If you want it. I trust him." I squeezed his free arm, handed him one of Tanhoger's cards, and walked away.
Happy New Year, my ass.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
108. THE GOTHAM GAZETTE
NEW YEAR'S CELEBRATION MARRED BY UNINVITED GUEST
by Thomas Drury
Staff Reporter
The thousands of revellers who gathered at Gotham Square last night rang in the new year with a bang--one that left 43 of them hospitalized.
At the stroke of midnight, the now-familiar figure of the Batman, or someone whose costume closely resembled his, appeared atop the tower from which the traditional ball was dropping. Without saying a word, he reached into a compartment on his belt and tossed a fistfull of explosives into the crowd--and then another, and another, until the ground echoed with loud popping noises and bright flashes of blinding white light.
7 onlookers were directly injured by the explosive devices, and in the ensuing pandemonium another three dozen were badly hurt. The Batman left as suddenly as he had arrived.
The remainder of the evening's scheduled festivities were cancelled.
by Thomas Drury
Staff Reporter
The thousands of revellers who gathered at Gotham Square last night rang in the new year with a bang--one that left 43 of them hospitalized.
At the stroke of midnight, the now-familiar figure of the Batman, or someone whose costume closely resembled his, appeared atop the tower from which the traditional ball was dropping. Without saying a word, he reached into a compartment on his belt and tossed a fistfull of explosives into the crowd--and then another, and another, until the ground echoed with loud popping noises and bright flashes of blinding white light.
7 onlookers were directly injured by the explosive devices, and in the ensuing pandemonium another three dozen were badly hurt. The Batman left as suddenly as he had arrived.
The remainder of the evening's scheduled festivities were cancelled.
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