Oh, the rich and powerfull! Takes them a while to get they're being laughed at!
Over the past few weeks, I've felt some changes coming over me since you entered my life. I've been reminded of what's it like to be part of a couple, to care for someone who cares for me. It's the first time in recent memory I've had those feelings...and I hate having those feelings! They're upsetting, confusing and worse, distracting me from getting my share of Gotham now that the getting's good!
This film is my story. It's everything about me the world should know. That's why the genius of Buddy Kantor is in the lead. No lesser light could reveal my brilliance. But life is not all yin. There's a lot of yang out there. With a virtuoso playing me, only the best man out there could play my antagonist. We need that balance. So it struck me: why settle for an actor? Get the real thing. Film that bad man, Batman himself in real-life action! I can't settle for less. I won't!!
Why won't you leave me alone--both of you? I hate you! I hate you! Bat-wings, clown-face--pushing me down/cutting me up/can't stay afloat/can't catch my breath! Oh, God, it hurts! Oh, God, I'm drowning!
Oh, Rebecca, I'm so sorry! I didn't want to go away! I didn't want to leave you alone! But I had to do it, don't you see? Had to push the sight of you, the scent of you, the heart and soul of you away! Blot you out, drive you down! Obliterate you! Because--once he came back...I had to come back...too.
A lunatic goes into a butcher shop and says: "A bag of carrots, please." "This is a butcher's! Get lost!" Next day, same lunatic, same shop. "A bag of carrots, please." "I told you- this is a butcher shop! Now beat it! Next time I'll nail your feet to the ground!" Third day, same lunatic, same shop. "A bag of nails, please." "This is a butcher shop. We don't have any nails!" "In that case, I'll have a bag of carrots!"
Look on the bright side, Killer--even a phoney dead Batman is better than no dead Batman! Ha Ha!
My friend, I like your style.
If you were going for deformity you're using the wrong tools. If you were going for pain you're in all the wrong places. You just kept working an already broken jaw. Just wear out your wrist that way. No concept of craft.
Crime hasn't been all that good to me of late. I've been spending more time in Arkham Asylum than out.
You've been a bad boy. You must be punished! Prepare yourself for a severe spanking, young man. But let me tell you right from the start... this is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me.
Both of us trying to find meaning in a meaningless world! Why be a disfigured outcast when I can be a notorious Crime God? Why be an orphaned boy when you can be a superhero? You can't kill me without becoming like me. I can't kill you without losing the only human being who can keep up with me. Isn't it IRONIC?!
Tell me Goldenrod. How could you have any idea what kind of bright and sunny concepts I might have percolating inside this beautiful mind of mine? Are you Carnac under there? Kreskin? Uri Geller maybe?
There's a little piece of me inside you, by way of my Joker Venom. That sort of makes us family.
I derive far more pleasure from our continual battles of wits than I would from his single death... but to destroy his effectiveness -- to take away the anonymity he so loves -- that would be a pleasure.
Something's not right... something... I can't put my finger on it... something's different... the way he moves... the ferocity... the lack of grace... the sheer brutality...
It's. Not. Him.
It's not bloody him!
I know you, Batman. When you approach a hostage situation like I put you in tonight -- you probably assume the victim is already dead. Oh, sure, you do everything you can to save them anyway, because that's you. But you don't really dare hope, do you? After tonight, though -- you'll never be able to do that again. Will you?
Welcome to the 21st century, Batman. There are no civilians anymore... and really, there never were!
Kind of funny, us running into each other this way, huh? You'll never believe it, but I couldn't have planned this. Not in a million years. I just happened to be out, enjoying the holiday atmosphere when I saw you with those thugs on your tail. So I thought, "Hey, the kid's in trouble. Why not cut him a break?" I mean, we never do this -- just hang out. We're always trying to, I don't know... is "destroy each other" too melodramatic?
We're perfect together, Harley.
But what frightens you, I wonder? What makes you, gentle reader, soak your pants and run screaming for your momma when the lights go out? I have some thoughts on the subject, to be sure... but why not consult an expert on such things? Why, I just have the man in mind. But be careful... this doctor of psychiatry isn't just a perennial favorite among the inmates at dear old Arkham Asylum... He's also a client!
So, who's the real sicko, America? Me, for carrying out this little prank? The producers and executives at the network, who let it all happen-- or is it you people, who mindlessly watched it all on your television sets?
Relax... I anticipated this. See, the chemical compounds of the puke gas combine with the active ingredients in the metagene whacker... which I'm told is a frothy little gumbo mixing all our D.N.A. signatures like some meta-melting pot. Stir 'em up and they create a third formula. One I know something about. Hee... it's our ace in the hole.
All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once. Am I right? I know I am. I can tell. You had a bad day and everything changed. Why else would you dress up like a flying rat? You had a bad day, and it drove you as crazy as everybody else... Only you won't admit it!
Y'know, ladies and germs -- I've got my foot on the on the destruct switch even as we speak -- and it would be just like me to activate it. But, considering the day I'm having... I just know that it wouldn't work. And I'd be sitting here with egg on my face. Again. Well I'm crazy, ladies and germs, but not that crazy. I WANNA GO BACK TO ARKHAM!!!
Losing your temper yet, Lex? I'll let you in on a little secret. I lost my temper long, long ago, and I've never found it. Maybe it's under one of the sofa cushions! Pain? You can't stop me by hurting me! Don't you know me at all? Pain is my boon companion! My stalwart friend! I am alive with pain every moment of every day, Lex! Ever since that fateful day when I was baptized in a vat of chemical goo, that corrosive stuff has burned through my skin like fire. Pain is my One True Love! I admire your willingness to do violence, Lex. Because you have no problem doing it when you have to. But I'm different, Lex. I do violence because it's fun! You're good at your job, Lex. But me? I LOVE MY JOB!
Would someone explain to this moron who is bleeding all over my floor--that when his name is called he is supposed to respond!
The likes of us working for a guy called Superman?! What an outrageous joke!
- It was you all right! I remember the taste of my blood! You always make me taste my blood!
- I did it! I finally killed Batman! In front of a bunch of vulnerable, disabled kids!!!! Now get me Santa Claus!
- Parting is such sweet sorrow, dearest. Still, you can't say we didn't show you a good time. Enjoy yourself out there... in the asylum. Just don't forget -- if it ever gets too tough... there's always a place for you here.
- Oh, the irony! Me, flying out from the darkness--like a bat. You know what I love about the darkness, Batman? I can see my reflection in it. My face is the face of the deep. And it goes on forever. What do you see? Do you see your reflection? Is that why you sit in the darkness? Answer me! When you stare at the darkness, does it stare back at you?
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