Right. Now you lot all ain't bright, that's for sure. But who needs brains, when you've got state-of-the art shotguns and all of these lovely grenades ready to bring pools and tears of blood to whoever tries to mess with you? But what you are is the best. The most violent bunch of criminals, murders, killers and psychopaths in this city. That's all I take in. The best. You're all violent, sadistic, and brutal and visually unpleasing, but that don't matter. 'Cause what we're gonna do, boys, is war.
Death to the clown! He's nothing more than a sick puppy with some laughing gas and a string of poor jokes. We, boys, will 'ave him reduced to nothing more than a purple suit and a chalk white stain on the floor.
Death to Dent! Death to his mob! Death to his speeches! Let's get all his boys and cut 'em in two to show them not to mess with us! Vote Dent? Kill Dent!
Death to the Batman! Death to that sneaky, nosy, arse of a rodent!
And, most importantly, death to that bloody oaf, Bruce Wayne, for the day he ruined the Copplepots!
Please, I'm flattered, but no more cheering. We've got business to discuss. We're gonna need a plan boys, to rule this city. We can't just run in guns blazing and tear some people to pieces, as funny as that sounds. We're gonna have to think this through and strike when the other runts in this cesspit least expects us, then use lots of lovely machine guns and explosives to kill them all. Then, we're gonna show anybody else who messes with us how to behave using knives and blowtorches. Then we're gonna bring down Hugo Strange, and staple his body all over the walls. Then, we will have of those lovely Tyger tools. All those sniper rifles and thermal goggles and stuff you lot ain't never heard of.
Now boys. Listen up and listen well. There are few things is this world that annoy me. First of all, I'm the boss. You do as I say. No whinny, no being a ponce and no failing me. If you think of even ever considering failing me, oh! You'd better run as far away from me as you can, 'cause when I catch you I'm going tear you apart limb from bloody limb. Then I'll send you out into the freezing cold, and make you tap dance. You got that! Say yes Mr Copplepot. That's better. But I'm sure, with you lot being the best in the business, that that'll never, appen and we will all get on, nice and peachy.
Now I've got some jobs for you lot. You boy. Yes you. I've got a job for you. The clown's girlfriend, Haley something or other, likes to keep around two mangy little mutts. I think they would look quite nice here. Still. Behind a pane of glass. On display. Get my meaning lads? Excellent lads! You know where the snipers are. Get to the mill and get to work. Make sure you don't waste bullets, 'cause a mercenary without hands isn't very useful if you get my drift. Smart man. Try not to make them bleed too much will you? It'll be a nightmare to clean.
Right you. You're the best sharpshooter I've got and I've got a very special job for you. Get the clown in your sights and blow that stupid smile fifty feet away through his neck. If you succeed there's 100 grand in it for ya. If not, then you'd better consider turning that gun on yourself. He's in the mill and I hear he'll be dead in a few days anyway. Funny as it would be to just let him die slowly and painfully, we need to press our advantages whenever we can get them.
Sickle! Take the rest of the lads out of here and over to the courthouse. Try to keep a low profile will ya and look out for the Bat. He has an annoying habit of appearing out of anyway and beating the snot out you people. Don't let it happen to you. Anybody who gets him will get 200 grand. Plus any lovely toys you might want.
Well lads. I hear Dent is down in the dumps and lonely.
I think he needs to be cheered up.
I think he needs somebody to visit him.
