Chapter Two
War Journal: Entry #316
Sunday April 3, 2011 22:00
Arrived in the latest war zone the other night. My arrival went unnoticed. Nobody recognized the Battle Van. That's good. I've learned that this city has its own set of costumed protectors. They obviously haven't been doing a very good job. The enemy just scored a major victory the same night I arrived. Several of their P.O.W.s escaped from a maximum security facility. I've tracked one of them down already. It's time he sees punishment.
It's after 11:00 pm at the Delta Gamma Pi Sorority House at Gotham University. It's Sunday night and the rain is coming down hard. It always seems to be raining in Gotham City. The house is unusually quiet tonight. None of the girls are watching TV in the common room. None of them are chatting with their boyfriends over the phone. Nor are they doing any sexy webcamming to pay for tuition. They had a visitor this evening. One they didn't expect. One they didn't want. One they couldn't survive. Sitting on the kitchen floor, Victor Zsasz is searching for a place to cut five new tallies into his body.
"Victor Zsasz," says a raspy voice from out of the shadows.
Zsasz gets up to his feet, the large kitchen knife he had slit the college girls' throats with held at the ready.
"That you Bats?" asks the psycho killer.
"You killed five girls tonight," says the voice, "Five girls after God only knows how many."
"Oh, I know how many," says Victor as he points to his tally marks.
"It's time you were punished."
"You gonna take me back to Arkham, Batman?"
"No."
Why not?"
The man who was speaking steps forth from the shadows, "Because I'm not Batman."
The man is wearing a long black leather trench coat. Under that he's wearing a full suit of body armor, much like what S.W.A.T. officers wear in the field. He has military issue boots on his feet, with steel plates that run up the shins. On his hands he's wearing black Kevlar gloves, nearly impossible to cut through. The only part of this man's body that aren't covered in black Kevlar or black leather are his head, which is uncovered, and his chest, which has a large white skull painted on it.
Zsasz tries to stab this stranger by bringing the kitchen knife down in an overhead motion. The stranger catches Zsasz by the wrist with one hand, twisting his arm, then striking him in the side of the ribs with his other hand, forcing the killer's arm out straight. Then in one fluid motion, the man brings his elbow down on Zsasz's arm, right above the joint, breaking it and bending it backwards.
Zsasz screams in agony. The stranger then knees Zsasz in the gut, doubling him over. Then a quick knee to the face knocks the killer back into the wall. The stranger grabs Zsasz by the throat and holds him pinned to the kitchen wall. He reaches into his trench coat, behind his back, and pulls out a very large, very sharp looking, Bowie knife.
"You killed five girls tonight," says the stranger.
He shoves the blade of the Bowie knife into Victor Zsasz's gut, just under the left side of the ribcage. Then he pushes down on the handle, cutting the abdomen from rib to pelvis.
"That's one," says the stranger.
Then he pulls the knife out and stabs him again, this time just a couple inches to the left of the first cut. Once again, he cuts through the abdomen from rib to pelvis.
"That's two."
The stranger repeats the cuts two more times, until it Victor Zsasz has four long vertical cuts going down his abdomen.
"And this," says the stranger, "makes five."
And with that, he slashes the killer deeply across the abdomen, leaving him with five lethal tally marks.
"Wh . . . Who . . . are . . . you?" asks Victor Zsasz as the stranger is walking away.
"The Punisher," comes the reply from the shadows.
Early the next morning, before the sun even comes up in a vain attempt to chase away the gloom in the city, Gotham Police are at the Delta Gamma Pi Sorority House. Their crime scene unit is going over the place with a fine tooth comb, looking for any evidence they can find. Detective Harvey Bullock is overseeing the investigation. Commissioner James Gordon enters the crime scene.
"Whatcha got Harvey?" asks the commissioner.
"Gas," says the detective, "I never shoulda eaten that leftover pepperoni pizza before comin' here."
"I mean with the crime scene, wise ass."
"Near as I can figure, Victor Zsasz added five new sorority girls to his body count, then cut a little too deep while addin' up his tally."
"You really expect me to buy that?" asks the commissioner.
"Nah," admits Bullock, "Be nice if it were true though."
"So what happened here?"
"Best guess?" asks Bullock, "I'd say Bats got here too late to stop Victor from doing his thing and ended up gettin' some payback."
"You actually think Batman did this?"
"Hey, all I'm sayin' is that anyone who dresses up like a bat ain't alright up in the head."
"I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, get me some more suspects. Has the back porch been cleared yet?"
"Yes, sir," replies Bullock.
"Good. I'm going out for a smoke. Let me know if you find anything useful."
"You got it, Boss," says the detective.
James Gordon goes outside and lights up a cigarette. After taking a couple of drags, he hears the expected raspy voice.
"Those things aren't good for you, you know," says Batman.
"That's what my wife keeps telling me," says the commissioner, "I keep telling her I'm planning on quitting."
"And have you?"
"Still planning on it."
"You know I didn't do this," says Batman.
"I know," replies Gordon, "Harvey just finds you a convenient scapegoat."
"Do you have any suspects?"
"Hundreds," says Gordon, "Every one of those scars on Zsasz's body represents someone with a father, brother, boyfriend, husband, uncle, nephew, or lover who would love to see that bastard dead."
"As good a place as any to start looking," says Batman, "Focus your search on victims who have family members with martial arts, military, or police backgrounds."
"Police?" says Gordon, "You don't think one of my own men could have done this!"
"Just a precaution, Jim," says Batman, "Whoever killed Victor Zsasz last night, disarmed him, broke his arm, his ribs, his nose, and then systematically carved tally marks into his gut that are so deep the blade nearly exited his back. That takes tremendous strength, and extensive training in hand to hand combat. It may not be an officer from the Gotham City Police Department. He may be from another city or town altogether. But you would be negligent if you were to ignore the possibility."
"Have you found anything useful?"
"I've collected some samples, and will be running them through my lab in The Bat Cave. I don't know if they'll turn anything up yet. I have a gut feeling they won't. I think this vigilante is smart enough to use forensic counter measures."
"So you think it's another vigilante?"
"Conclusively? I don't know. It's the best theory I have at the moment though. I'll keep you posted."
Commissioner Gordon flicks his cigarette butt out into the lawn. Trusting in his unusual friend's insights, he turns around and heads back inside to talk to his detectives some more.
War Journal: Entry #317
Monday April 4th, 2011 11:00
Last night's engagement of the enemy was a success. Regretfully I was unable to prevent the collateral damage of five civilians. However, I was able to dispatch the enemy quickly, cleanly, and without having to expend any ammunition to do so. While I don't expect this pattern to hold for long, the longer I can keep the local authorities from getting wind that I'm here, the more of the enemy I can eliminate.
