gothmite. BLACK CHRISTMAS.
ＢＡＴＳ ＡＲＥ Ａ ＮＯＣＴＵＲＮＡＬ ＰＲＥＤＡＴＯＲ： gliding between the tenebrous nebula of a claustrophobic nightfall, seasoned with the assemblage of contagious vermin amidst a 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃; inveigling with the oath of indulgence and pursuit. submerged in silence and stitched into the tapestries of the black night, crimson rainfall coasts the brim of the knight’s mouth, adorned in blackened bruises. oblivion knocking 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦 in every cesspool of BECKONING STREET. led in a harrowing goose - chase through the maddening lair 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴.
THE RAIN FALLS CLICKITY - CLACK UPON THIS CONCRETE JUNGLE,
SPRAWLING ACROSS AS A BLACK PLAGUE. THE ELECTRIC BLUE FREQUENCY IS TUNED TO AN OCTAVE SOLELY FOR BATS TO HEAR. 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍: IN POSITION, BATCAVE. 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃: BATCAVE TO SHITTY GUARDIAN, IT SEEMS AS THOUGH YOU FORGOT YOUR PARTNER! 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍: ROBIN, NOT NOW.
𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓. THE SILENCE DIES ON THE BREATH OF A ASTHMATIC, & ROMAN SIONIS IS HOLDS ALL ATTENTION ON A PIN - THIN PROMISE, STRONG AS A TAPEWORM’S BODY
❝ CHRIST. 〔 a collapsed, stringent gaze. 〕 fuckin’ crazy, shit… listen, i ain’t call you all here - to fuckin’ fight. should be celebrating, yanno ? no more of them old ‘n bold mobs anymore. we all’re still kickin’ after th’ end of the world, right ? moral should be high, eh ? maybe i should’a brought some broads ? all know ivy would’a ’ppreciated that, HEH… ❞
DENT: SIONIS, QUIT WASTING OUR TIME.
SIONIS: WHAT’S WRONG, DENT ... GOT A ‘ME, MYSELF, AND I’ SPA TRIP?
IVY: GET TO THE POINT, ROMAN.
𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 & succumbs to horror like a ill child cowering under a leather belt. ❝ i haven’t seen the bat around, have you? ❞
OSWALD: OI, PLEEEASE. THE BAT HASN’T SHOWN ‘IS FACE SINCE BIG BOY BLUE BROUGHT ‘IS BAND OF ALIEN DIP-SHITS TO TOWN. FORGET THE BAT, HAS ANYONE SEEN THAT FOOKIN’ BOY OF ‘IS ? LITTLE SHIT KEEPS TAKIN’ ME MEN OUT !
IVY: BATMAN’S WAITING FOR THE JOKER.
OSWALD: HE AND EVERY OTHER HALF WIT IN AMERICA IS LOOKIN’ F’THE BLOODY JOKER, BABE. FOR ALL WE KNOW THAT DAMNED CLOWN IS SOMEWHERE FESTERING WITH AIDS READY T’BLOW ‘IS FOOKIN’ HEAD OFF !
DREAD IS WORN BY TREMBLING HANDS AND A LOADED GUN. a one - man invasion patrols the shadows of this deserted landscape like some NIGHT HUNTER , shrouded in secrecy and perched upon the gargoyles of a grayscale cityscape, peering down at the very people he’s sworn to protect. kevlar becomes cotton, chain-mail fists are ankle socks and a crooked pair of prescription glasses, hanging off their last limb are the cowl of this newly appointed SOLO - ARMY OF GOTHAM CITY. * NO TIME TO WASTE. BACK UP ON THE WAY. NO TIME TO WASTE. FOR GOTHAM. FOR BARBARA. FOR BATMAN. NO TIME TO WASTE.
JIM GORDON IS LIGHT ON HIS FEET, PISTOL IN HAND,
TRIGGER FINGER AT THE READY. IT’S ALL OR NOTHING TONIGHT;
THE LAST STAND. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄.
HE’S TEARING THROUGH THE ABANDONED FACTORY, HOT ON OSWALD’S
TRAIL, BACK - TO - WALL. ONE STEP AT A TIME. HIS HEART IS
READY TO BURST FROM HIS CHEST, BREATH HEAVY LIKE A WHEEZY ASTHMATIC TAKING A DRAG FROM HIS FIRST CIGARETTE. IT’S ALL OR NOTHING TONIGHT.
FOR GOTHAM CITY. FOR BARBARA.
𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍.
I’M LOST IN A MAZE OF VACANT ROOMS AND EMPTY MEMORIES , the atmosphere is slick with moisture and the undying sense of my not belonging there. LIKE A LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER , i push forward through the labyrinth , the soft coo’s of the minotaur’s shackles taunting my every move. something heavy is bellowing around the air, doing circles above my head in waves of fungus and lead poisoning. hollow corridors dimly - lit by a sheepish moon in hiding quickly unfurl into a tangled cluster of distortion and confusion. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. the trail’s gone cold, i can’t smell the rancid stench of donut grease and heart disease. i push forward. NO EXIT. i’m retracing my steps, following a lost pattern in this erratic dance of missteps and hiding. A DEAD END. i’m lost. the penguin is gone. it’s kind of funny. I COULD ALMOST LAUGH.
DENT: NONE OF YOU IDIOTS REALIZE IT, DO YOU ?
IN THE HIDDEN SAFETY BEHIND AN UNHINGED DOOR, AN EXHAUSTED
JIM GORDON SLUMPS DOWN. HIS HEAD IS BURIED INTO HIS KNEES,
BREATH HEAVY AND CHAOTIC. FOR ONE MOMENT, HE THINKS OF THE
ATTACK: GODS HURLING FIRE FROM THE SKIES, BUILDINGS CRUMBLING
UNDER THEIR VERY FINGERTIPS. HE THEN THINKS OF HIS NIECE,
FRESHLY INDOCTRINATED INTO THE HELL-SCAPE THAT IS THIS CITY. HIS SON, RED WITH RAGE AND BLOODY CLASSMATES. HIS WIFE, HIS
BEAUTIFUL, UNHAPPY WIFE PREGNANT WITH HIS SECOND CHILD AND 2
STEPS OUT THE FRONT DOOR, ALREADY.
JIM GORDON THINKS OF EVERY TERRIBLE THING IN HIS LIFE,
PAST PRESENT, AND PRESUMABLE FUTURE.
i start sobbing. my gravel - laden throat is filled to the brim with asphyxiation and stress; i’m choking down my words and cries, struggling to keep quiet. i’m overwhelmed and my sobs disperse into heavy laughter. 𝘰𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘥, 𝘪’𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵. i’m laughing and my shoulders drop, i’m weightless and sinking into a curled ball of stomach aches and unfounded humor. 𝘰𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴. i’m laughing, but nothing about this is funny. i’m laughing but i just want to cry. i’m laughing, but i’d do anything to curl up in bed next to my wife and tell her how much i love her. I’M LAUGHING BECAUSE I FINALLY GET THE JOKE.
DENT: THE JOKER NEVER LEFT.
“ J𝐢𝐈IiᎥI𝐢MBOօo໐O𝘰𝚘 ....... ”
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