Please. Stop struggling. You're moving the chair around and you'll make the most dreadful marks on the floor. This floor is expensive you know. Still screaming? Still struggling? You have no respect. I am Victor Zsasz. I am not your foe. I am your saviour. Fear not little pig, my beautiful little pig, for your time has already come. All the others, they just…. now what's the word? Wander? Drift? Ahh, it doesn't matter. But you. You, little piggy, are going to be saved, by me. Don't cry. You should rejoice, rejoice in every, liberating stroke I make against your soft, sweet, flesh. You are making a mess of yourself. All this screaming, all these tears. They won't do any good. Nobody is coming. Rejoice and praise that fact, Little Piggy, for I shall save you.
Save you from what? Life. My clients are often afraid when they find themselves like you. They want to live. They want to keep on suckling air, gorging themselves until they die and what for? Who will really care when you die? I've followed you for some time, not stalked mind you, my purpose is far nobler. Anybody else would just do something terrible to you and leave you in a gutter. That isn't fair is it? But those horrible, horrible people aren't here now, so don't worry. You're safe with Zsasz your saviour. Oh please do stop trying to scream. I'm actually impressed you still have breath in your lungs to do that and the sobbing. Dear me; you're making such a mess of yourself. What would your parents say?
Oh that's right; you're an orphan. Trust me, I know these things. I take pride in my work. I've been looking at you for weeks now and I've determined that by silting your throat, I'll be helping you more than anybody in your life has. They've just left you. Knocked you down. Beat you. Stamped your face into the dirt. There is no point for you to suffer like this anymore my dear, sweetest, Little Piggy, so why bother? Can't you see each breath hurting you, every step just causing you more and more pain? But don't worry and please don't cry. I'll make it stop for you. I'll give you what you've always wanted peace. Those bonds won't come loose. I've tested them out extensively and if I if you did get free you'd still be trapped her. Every door and window is locked and bolted. It's a small house. Tell me, do think you'd be able to run and fight me off forever? Or will it end with my blades, your body and a pool of blood?
I think option two is more likely, don't you Little Piggy?
People won't remember you. You've got no parents, no brothers, no sisters and your friends only like you through sympathy. They feel sorry for you. They only hang around with a worthless dreg like because they pity you. That isn't nice. That's horrible. It makes me sick. To give you that false hope.
Don't worry I'll save them all soon. You have my word.
But I'll remember you. I'll mark your life into a skin, a memory on my flesh. I know each and every person that I've liberated. Every person lucky enough to feel my steel cut their skin. Midriff; a banker, in debt, drinking, worthless, hopeless. Back of the neck, some street worker, drugs, unhappy, eyes always red with tears. Forehead, through the middle of the other four? That's for somebody very, very special. My arm? Left? Now that is a very important mark indeed. Robber tramp with a knife. The surprise in his eyes when I took his knife away from was just… beautiful. Truly fantastic. Brings tears to my ears when I think about it. The start of my career as the saviour of Gotham. Not that low some, vile, bat creature!
They say you always remember your first time.
Ahem. I apologise for my last outburst. I'm a professional in this and I shouldn't let my emotions get the better of me. It's just that, well the thought of the Batman just makes me so enraged. He isn't a hero! He's just a thug dressed up as bat. I'll relish the moment when I find it. I'll make it last, I'll make it slow.
But first, I must save you little piggy. The tears will stop. Your heart will stop beating, your lungs will stop taking in every disgusting drop of air in this city. Sweet, dear, pretty, Little Piggy, your struggle will be over soon. Now I'll just get my knives and I'm sure you've figured out what happens next, Little Piggy. Yes, the intensity of your struggling tells me so.
Now, let me see your neck. Chin up now. That's better.
I'm going to make my mark.