When my King was injured, I hurried to aid him, disregarding even my own safety.
His visage, cut from the rest of his body, and pinned to the wall of a cell, like a calling card. I believe I felt anger, when I was made aware of it. I cannot remember what anger feels like. The Bat set upon me, and I allowed myself to be captured.
I demanded that my King's face be preserved, if he ever returned for it. Some part of the Bat agreed, and my King's visage was taken, to be held in safety. I believe I felt happiness, when I was made aware of it. I cannot remember what happiness feels like. I waited, in my cell, until there was a break-out, and I was freed.
I waited, for one long year. I tried as I might to claim revenge, of any sort. I approached an assassin, with the use of my King's left-behind funding. A serious man, with one eye. A man I felt a connection with. I set him on the Bat, but the creature of the night survived. I believe I felt disappointment, when I was made aware of it. I cannot remember what disappointment feels like. I resolved to bide my time, and I waited, moving from safehouse to safehouse and keeping my King's army safe, and secure.
When my King returned, and claimed his face, I knelt before him, as his Knight. He was proud of my devotion, and allowed me to command his men, and lead an ambush on the GCPD from the treeline while he engaged in combat against the Bat. Things were good, and the Bat had his back to the wall. Attempts were made to bring Doctor Quinzel back into the fold, but alas, she had moved on. She lacked faith, and loyalty. I hope she dies.
When my King disappeared, I hurried to aid him, disregarding even my own safety.
All that was left of his was his surgically removed face, claimed by an impostor heir to the throne. I allowed myself to be captured. Without him there was no meaning.
I am a sick person, doing what sick people do. I wonder if my new psychologist will follow in my footsteps.
But now, there is news.
He's coming back.
I can almost hear the laughter from here. He will come for me, soon. If he does not, I will go to him. I will throw myself before him, and serve once more.
My name is Carter Fossor, and I remember what happiness feels like.
When I saw the Bat assaulted by his own laughing friends, those Gods reduced to smiles, I remembered.
I am very, very happy.
C. Fossor, signing off.
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