Just another night in Gotham
(Reprinted from a private Yahoo group called the Justus League. I know those f*****s wont appreciate it but someone else just might. Also i get a kick out of it myself.)
I have decided that if this is the f****** JL, then I am the Batman. To prove this point, just to myself, I went out tonight in the Batmobile with the singular hope of bringing some miscreant to justice (no pun intended.) My prayers were answered just after the witching hour when I came upon a band of toughs up to no good. This scallywag rabble had unlawfully assembled in the parking area of a federal building, the local post office. This blatant disregard of the posted request of no assemblage after business hours could not be overlooked or go unpunished.
There were open containers of alcoholic beverages strewn everywhere, so I knew I had to proceed with caution. I pull over to a building directly adjacent to their position. Donning my homemade cowl, I down a can of Red Bull. Then it’s one deep breath and out of the Batmobile I fire myself, toward my destiny.
"Ho lads, might I have a word with you?" I call out in a firm yet friendly manner. The hooligans just stare. I could see the fear in their heart because as we all know, this is why the Batman chose his particular moniker. To strike fear into the hearts of criminals, for they are a cowardly and superstitious lot. I could see it too, this cowardice and superstition. I had the edge because they did not know what to make of the Batman standing right there in their midst, casting fear into their hearts.
One of them mustered the courage to speak. "What the fuck is you supposed to be?" The words were barely audible (but maybe it was because of my Batmask.) "Batman" I reply. "Cease and disperse and there might not be any trouble." I follow this warning with a steely gaze that would strike even more fear into the already fear-stricken crowd. A pause was followed by a short discussion that I couldn't quite follow (note to self: cut holes into mask for sound.) I had a vague sense of what was going on though. The group, paralyzed by fear, was trying to concoct an escape plan that would save them from my wraith. After realizing that I was blocking their only escape route, they conspired to enact a bold gambit. The crowd decided to bull rush. Ingenious. Attacking all at once, there would be no way for me to take down them all. Diabolical in it's simplicity. But...
I think Clint Eastwood put it best when he said, "a man's gotta know his limitations." Sage words Clint, sage words indeed. I beat a hasty retreat to the Batmobile. They gave chase but their inebriated state, coupled with my superior athleticism, made it no challenge at all to outrun them. Once on the road, I had a choice, retreat to the Batcave or return to fight. The choice was clear. I have seen Duel. I gave the cretins time to return to their positions and let down their guard. This is when I drove, full throttle into the heart of the crowd. Several dove for cover. I turned; several angrily attempted to block my path, thinking I would stop. They instantly saw the folly in their decision. Dents in a fender will come out. The dents in their soul shall last forever.
This act was almost satisfying enough. I said almost. I felt behind my seat for the Molotov. My only regret is the loss of the post office, but buildings can be rebuilt. Order must be restored. Now, when punks look for a place to congregate, I'm certain that they give pause and least one will say "we've gotta watch where we congregate." His friend will say, "Why dude?" He will answer with not a small amount of fear chocking his words "Haven't you heard? The Batman is on the job." When I think of this, I can't help but smile. Indeed. The Batman is on the job and I am the Batman.
TM & (c) Keith Dotson
I have decided that if this is the f****** JL, then I am the Batman. To prove this point, just to myself, I went out tonight in the Batmobile with the singular hope of bringing some miscreant to justice (no pun intended.) My prayers were answered just after the witching hour when I came upon a band of toughs up to no good. This scallywag rabble had unlawfully assembled in the parking area of a federal building, the local post office. This blatant disregard of the posted request of no assemblage after business hours could not be overlooked or go unpunished.
There were open containers of alcoholic beverages strewn everywhere, so I knew I had to proceed with caution. I pull over to a building directly adjacent to their position. Donning my homemade cowl, I down a can of Red Bull. Then it’s one deep breath and out of the Batmobile I fire myself, toward my destiny.
"Ho lads, might I have a word with you?" I call out in a firm yet friendly manner. The hooligans just stare. I could see the fear in their heart because as we all know, this is why the Batman chose his particular moniker. To strike fear into the hearts of criminals, for they are a cowardly and superstitious lot. I could see it too, this cowardice and superstition. I had the edge because they did not know what to make of the Batman standing right there in their midst, casting fear into their hearts.
One of them mustered the courage to speak. "What the fuck is you supposed to be?" The words were barely audible (but maybe it was because of my Batmask.) "Batman" I reply. "Cease and disperse and there might not be any trouble." I follow this warning with a steely gaze that would strike even more fear into the already fear-stricken crowd. A pause was followed by a short discussion that I couldn't quite follow (note to self: cut holes into mask for sound.) I had a vague sense of what was going on though. The group, paralyzed by fear, was trying to concoct an escape plan that would save them from my wraith. After realizing that I was blocking their only escape route, they conspired to enact a bold gambit. The crowd decided to bull rush. Ingenious. Attacking all at once, there would be no way for me to take down them all. Diabolical in it's simplicity. But...
I think Clint Eastwood put it best when he said, "a man's gotta know his limitations." Sage words Clint, sage words indeed. I beat a hasty retreat to the Batmobile. They gave chase but their inebriated state, coupled with my superior athleticism, made it no challenge at all to outrun them. Once on the road, I had a choice, retreat to the Batcave or return to fight. The choice was clear. I have seen Duel. I gave the cretins time to return to their positions and let down their guard. This is when I drove, full throttle into the heart of the crowd. Several dove for cover. I turned; several angrily attempted to block my path, thinking I would stop. They instantly saw the folly in their decision. Dents in a fender will come out. The dents in their soul shall last forever.
This act was almost satisfying enough. I said almost. I felt behind my seat for the Molotov. My only regret is the loss of the post office, but buildings can be rebuilt. Order must be restored. Now, when punks look for a place to congregate, I'm certain that they give pause and least one will say "we've gotta watch where we congregate." His friend will say, "Why dude?" He will answer with not a small amount of fear chocking his words "Haven't you heard? The Batman is on the job." When I think of this, I can't help but smile. Indeed. The Batman is on the job and I am the Batman.
TM & (c) Keith Dotson
