"B-but how--" Batman sputtered. "There was no way you could have survived that ... that fire ..."
Where there's a will, there's a way, Batman, Strange said. To coin a phrase.
"But it's ... it's not humanly possible--"
You disappoint me, Bruce. Such a limited imagination ... Oh, wait--did I just call you "Bruce"? I'm so sorry, Mr. Wayne. You must forgive me. I know you may be more comfortable being addressed by the name I gave you when last we met. Isn't that right, "Object X"?
Although he had no feeling in his arms or legs, Batman was instantly aware that his cock was stiffening at the sound of that horrible nickname. Strange noticed it as well.
I see I've brought back some happy memories, the doctor said, smiling.
"Go to hell," Batman snarled. "Go to fucking hell, you goddam monster."
Such language! Strange said. I see your condition has deteriorated significantly since you left my care, Object X. We'll have to do something about that. But first, I think I'd better take care of something else I should have done a long time ago...
The doctor produced a small container of red ink, dipped his finger in it, and then traced the outline of an "H" on Batman's chest, directly over the bat insignia there.
They say it's very important to properly identify one's property in case it's ever lost or stolen, Strange said. Can't risk you running off again...
Batman felt the ink soak into his suit, staining his flesh. He wanted more than anything to pound the crap out of this madman, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Nothing at all.