Meanwhile, in the Scranton neighborhood of Woot...

I am the Bat Pt. 3 The modestly impressive conclusion.

Day 3

Get a hold of yourself, Batman! Your head isn’t on straight! Pull it together! Are you so weak and flabby you’ll let one little thing like massive life failure unhinge your very mind?!

 Batman has always considered dusk the second best time to “Get Real.”

That’s right, the second best time. Do you know why? Because bats are nocturnal. Bats find their way in the darkness. Bats home in on asses to be kicked in the middle of the night!

Reality Peak

 

The kicking of asses never felt so good. Days meld together as I lay down my sweet brand of justice on these evildoers! Feet in faces, swords and arrows piercing flesh and bone like never was allowed back home! The night is filled with action, the days replete with inspiration and preparation! I will make my foes know me! I shall strike fear into their… well, I assume they have hearts… when they remember me! They shall look into the skies and cower in fear! The few places they have to hide can be theirs, for I fly above them, a shot of pure righteousness! For I am law, I am justice, and I am all that is right.

 ACTION!

 INSPIRATION!

 PREPARATION!

 INSTALLATION!

After all my work! After all my toil! I have finally achieved what I have set out to do! You won’t find them in the darkest corners, or even the deepest caves! They run for the hills and for their lives, whichever the cowards find more convenient! Some say “cowards” is too harsh a term! They may be right… They may be… If I were they, you wouldn’t find me stopping here in The Bat country! I’d have the wisdom to slink off at my first opportunity, too! If there’s one thing these creeps fear most, it’s something solid! Something true! More than an idea! Yes sir! This time, they’ve met their match, and I'm not going to let them forget it!

INTIMIDATION!

As long as I am here, no sack of bones, rotten flesh, silk, or gunpowder will be safe from my JUSTICE!!!! I stand upon the mountain ranges of this land and I call down to the evils of this world: I am THE BAT!

 

I am the Bat Pt. 2: Bats in the Belfry

Day 2 AAAAHHHH!!!

 WHATHAPPENEDTOME? WHYAMIHERE? WHEREISEVERYTHING? 

ITSALLSOCLEAR

 HOWCOULDIHAVEMISSEDIT

THELASTTHINGIREMEMBERIS…

 DYINGLIKEMYPARENTS!!!

i desperately flee outside looking for anything i might recognize but nothing looks familiar until… until…

 Robin...

 Robin?

 ROBIN?!??!

at every twist and turn i am faced by all manner of Robins…

 Robins to be.

 Robins...

 ...who never were.

Robins who will never be, again.

Day2.5-2.9

No reason to let all those tasty Robins go to waste!


Don't move, Commissioner! Let me come to you!

To be continued in Part 3.

I am the Bat Pt. 1

From high above, I watch. Nothing escapes me. I am the protector. I am justice. I am THE BAT.

 Swear to me!

Day 1 While assisting that spit-curled, pretty-boy Superman to battle some schmuck with an impossible to pronounce name, I wound up here, on the front lawn of what appears to be a house in an alternate dimension. While I am not a fan of finding myself in a strange new land with few leads to follow, I am a fan of the previous owner’s attitude to ne’er do-wells.

That's right, don't even give 'em an opening!

It’s all too rare to find common citizens taking a stand of their own, securing their loved ones and themselves. It sure makes my job a lot easier, any way.

After entering the house and making myself a cocktail at the main floor wet bar (if I’m gonna be stuck here, I might as well be stuck and relaxed, right?), I investigate the various rooms of the… house? I gotta say, as a billionaire playboy, crime-fighting, straitjacket escaping, handsome-man, I’ve seen a lot of houses. In fact, my house IS a lot of houses, ground up and reconstituted to be the world’s biggest and most expensive house, but I’ve never seen a house like this. So many supplies! So much preparation! So many places to put giant pennies! I’m in hog heaven!

All my smiles get turned upside down as soon as I get myself geared up and ready to get to the bottom of things. First, I hear some kind of wet slapping noise as I enter the sub-basement/soon-to-be Bat Cave. I’m wondering to myself “Jeez, I’m gonna have to get this place checked for leaks,” but then I see what the source is.

Now, I don’t know about you, but most of the time when splotchy, slappy, green things start flip-flopping their way at The Bat, I gotta reach for some kind of pharmaceutical or weed killer to get business taken care of. According to some sign, these things are some sicko’s pets, or livestock, or crops; I ain’t into agriculture much. All the same, these damned things keep jumpin at me like a dog in heat! So I do the only thing I know how to do: Distract the monsters and make them fall into a giant hole. WORKS EVERY TIME!

 Easy as one...

 two...

 three!

 

Posing for a second while whispering “I am The Bat.” Classic.

 There’s a sign around here that makes mention of an abandoned mineshaft. Sounds like a good place to bust up some old squatting miners or the ghosts of abusive foremen. Either way, I ought to sleep soundly in the morning! Batman out!

Back for Christmas: The security guard returns!

Well, I'm back. 

Man I hate this place. Monster worlds suck. But I have to put all that behind me now.
Christmas is in trouble. 




And I have to save her.




It's good to see so many improvements made to the security of the place since I was here last, though. 

Still, none of that matters now. I have to find Christmas, I know she's in trouble. All I got was this letter under my door a few days back:

I have no idea who this Tra'Han guy is but I'm betting he's bad news. Why was I such an idiot?! Why didn't I just stay with her; oh Christmas, I'm so sorry that I let you down. 

But it's too late for that. 

Now she's out here in Woot somewhere. And I have to find her. 


First things first:

1. Make a list of what to do
2. Gather intel on Tra'Han
3. Find signs of Christmas
4. Set things right!

HellCo: Inferno One Can Beat Our Prices (Part Three of Three)

"Mr. Johnson! Beelzebob from HellCo calling, and may I say, it is an utter delight to talk to you today?


Mr. Johnson, there is no reason whatsoever to employ snideness with me. I am simply happy that we will be able to resolve your HellCo account today, to what I am sure will be our mutual satisfaction.


Who is the "our" in that sentence? You wound me, Mr. Johnson. "Mr. Johnson." How formal I sound, when by this point the two of us are practically intimates! May I call you Ira, Mr. Johnson? Mr. J? No? And the wounding continues.


You'll recall, Mr. Johnson, that I needed to discuss your account with my supervisor, Eligos, Duke of Hell, to figure out WHY the HellCo Brand Reanimated Friendship Operative assigned to your case went... off protocol... by building so many free HellCo Brand Conveniencers on your property (I mean, at the very least, he should have invoiced for them.) At first, we simply assumed that it was due to gross negligence or breach of contract on your part, Mr. Johnson. After all, it's not without precedent, is it?


But Mr. E happened to mention this little problem to his golfing partner, Baalberith, HellCo Chief Archivist, and he managed to dig up a rather amusing factoid about the Reanimated Friendship Vessel in question! Apparently, this particular sack of skin and blood was instrumental in alerting the Head Office to the suitability of your nauseating dimension for HellCo operations in the first place! And once the Tra'Han/Mitchells Debacle had cleared the board for us, we were easily able to move in and begin the aggressive marketization of human resources you've come to know and love, Mr. Johnson. Isn't that a heart-warming tale?


But, more relevant to the matter at hand, the corpse in question also, by either sheer bizarre coincidence, or as a practical joke by those hilarious boys down in the Necromancy Department, had a strong pre-existing attachment to the land your home is built on! I know, Mr. Johnson, I was speechless too, when Mr. Baalberith told me about it from one of his many mouths. And, as we both know, a Reanimated Friendship Vessel with a strong attachment to a particular area can, in certain rare cases, wrest control away from the Possessor Class operative controlling it and act of its own volition. I'm sure you can see where this is going, Mr. Johnson. It's clear as crystal! Or a piece of glass. Or air, Mr. Johnson. AIR.


The RFV decided to "spruce up" your home, free of charge, out of some sentimental attachment to the place. It did so by installing a wide variety of high quality HellCo Brand Conveniencers, turning your home into a perfect model of state-of-the-pit technology. Normally, we'd track the Reanimated Friendship Vessel's family down and force them to pay for all this, but, given how many years its been since he was actually alive, and how intense the disruptions to the human population since then have been, we've decided on a more... merciful... strategy.


Pay attention, Mr. Johnson. This is the part we think you'll like. I've grown quite fond of you, Mr. Johnson. For a disgusting pile of bones and tissue, you have a sympathetic quality that stirs deep and horrible emotions deep within my carapace. So, I convinced the higher ups to give you... A Deal.



You see, Ira (I don't care what you say, Mr. Johnson, I'm Bob, you're Ira, and, as of now, we're intimate), HellCo would like to use you. Your home, that is! As the setting for our latest series of HellCo Catalogs! The rogue RFV (now disassembled, of course) did such a good job on the Conveniencers he illegally installed, we're going to let you keep them all - and all for the meager cost of a few weeks of letting HellCo Brand Photography Slugs slither through your house, taking pictures. Considering that the cost for all those improvements would normally be 4,212 souls... I think you'll agree it's a steal, Ira.


Now, is your house slug-accessible, Ira, my intimate friend? No? Well, it will be. Don't worry, we'll just add the cost to your bill.


Well, of course you still have a bill, Ira. The fact that you're getting the Conveniencers for free doesn't mean you don't need to pay for having your lawn mowed. And the Drinks Mixer. And the Drinks Mixer Drink Mix. And the interest on the Drinks Mixer Drink Mix. Be reasonable, Ira.


But don't worry, my dear, sweet, intimate friend. The total bill is really quite small. 3 souls. That's not so bad, is it? You can find 3 measly little souls for your dear buddy Bob and his friendly corporation, right? Turn to your family, Ira. They'll support you, if they know what'll happen to you if you don't pay your debts. Children can be such a comfort at times like this... Because Hell knows they'll sign anything you tell them to, without even bothering to read it.


And Ira? Thank you for choosing HellCo for all your lawncare needs. As we always say: "You had a choice. Now, let us help you live with it."


Goodbye, Mr. Johnson."

-Click-

(The End)