Gotham City. One of the dirtiest towns on the planet. It is so dirty that the rats decided to fucking skip town. So dirty, that the Gotham mafia do most of their work out in Metropolis. I like to think of this town as an opportunity. To clean. Not clean the city with a push broom, mind you, but to clean the city of its wasteful body count. They call me the Eraser. Sure, I used to wear a stupid eraser on my head, so what? I made good money. I still do. Take this job for instance. Congressman kills about 2 hookers that were doing some…work…for him. One for the front and one for the back. But having the constituents know you have a fetish for fatal ménage à trios does not sit well with the voters. That's why I'm here. I clean it. Make sure it never happened. First the blood then the bodies. My dad once taught me that lesson once: Never leave a stone unturned. To make sure I remembered he lashed me with his belt about twenty times. That's when a straggler walks in from the bathroom, scared. I calm her and gently put her to sleep with my silencer. Every time my drunken father beat me senseless, I would weep but then my mother would come, cheer me up, and tell me that's why pencil's have erasers. It made me feel better. These murders, they never happened, like all of the other bad things in my past. Like memory. Erasing all that was wrong in my past: all my breakups, my beatings, my worries, my fears. Gone. Cleansed.
There is a reason Batman does not know I still work here. It is because my jobs are spotless. While other idiots leave their calling cards all over the place, I just close the door and walk away. But when I do, I feel I cleaned a part of myself, a part of my soul. Washing away my past, my self, and my mind. It is what keeps me sane in this insane town. I live alone, no wife, no illegitimate kids, just myself and my small apartment and some margaritas. Nothing fancy. I enjoy watching CSI whenever it comes on and laugh at how these stupid criminals leave so many things behind. They would never make it in Gotham like some of those other villains out there. The Terrible Trio. The Killer Moth. The Penny Plunderer. I feel happy with my anonymity nowadays but I wonder what they are doing sometimes. They probably have a life now. Some kids, a nice farm out West, you know, living the pristine American Dream. Not like me, of course. Sometimes I wish I can make it all right, all pristine like their lives are probably like now. I wonder if they still stick to their old names no matter how ridiculous they were. Eraser? Why did I even think of that? I shoulda been called Mr. Clean, at least I would probably get royalties.
The phone rings, another job, another paycheck. I head on over in my beat-up Oldsmobile. The apartment complex I am entering is surprisingly clean. Not a speck of dust, of grime, or mold. Everything is perfect. Room 111- the door handle does not even have any fingerprints on it. Uneasiness clogs my head. No crime is ever this clean before I come in. Then I see the blood seeping out of the apartment and know this is the right place. I enter only to see…the body of an old friend. An old rogue. The Killer Moth…only it wasn't him anymore. It was some sort of bloody mulch that used to be him. I hear a click somewhere in the darkness that pervades the room. I catch it when I see a single flick of light and know exactly what is. I'm frozen.
"You are a very rich man, Eraser. However, no matter how much money you may receive from your job and your life, to everyone else you are…worthless. You have no value in our society. Goodbye."
I stare at the barrel of the gun and I realize that this time, the first time in a long while, I will not get away clean. BLAM!