Day 4:
You know, Journal, I've been thinking about this whole super-heroics business I mean, where's the motivation for the whole cape-and-tights industry? All rewards are given to charity, and all prestige is left behind in the suit- could they all be going out there solely in pursuit of justice? Seems hard to believe-but then again, my judgment is probably colored by my... current situation. Anyhow, things are finally beginning to fall into place.
Work was fairly uneventful today, except for two incidents. Doctor Arkham called me into his office today and revealed that "I'm about ready to let you start work on some of our more... challenging cases. Just keep up the good work for a few more days, alright?" The fact that this announcement was prefaced by a coworker's revelation that two more psychologists had quit only slightly dampened my enthusiasm. Maybe I won't even need three years to write my memoirs.
On a slightly more alarming note, another of my coworkers, an attractive girl named Jennifer (who I have considered asking out- an idea I was unfortunately forced to scrap due to my "night life") revealed that the Joker was "going to 'get', in his own words, 'the miserable miscreant mindless enough to mutilate me'. Luckily, he doesn't actually know who you are, but I would keep one eye open." Both eyes, I would think- that man is reputed to be nuttier than a jar of extra-chunky peanut butter.
Tonight, however, was much more interesting. I finally met up with one of Gotham's more prominent criminals- Scarface- or should I say the Ventriloquist? He(they?) was(were?) in the midst of breaking into the Wayne Memorial art museum- aided by his two favorite thugs, Rocky and Mugs.
They were just exiting the museum, a large rectangle in brown paper in one thug's hands
Wonderful. How was I supposed to stop the thieves without damaging the priceless work of art? Suddenly, a plan coalesced in my mind. I leapt from yet another convenient shadow(I've grown to like them), landing boot-first on the Ventriloquist, and immediately spinning around to drop the thug without the painting. I heard a sickening crack as the Ventriloquist fell, but I had no chance to pause- It was my life on the line too.
"Yow! My leg! Mugs, get that mook!"
"What about the pai-"
"Fuggedabout da painting- waste 'im!"
The crook dropped the painting, but it was too late. He reached for his gun, but I pounced on him and his gun flew away . I got up from the pavement only to finde scarface leaning against the apparently KO'd Ventriloquist and pointing a gun at me (A most thoroughly unnerving image).
"Alright, mook- hands up and against the wall."
I didn't have much choice. I raised my hands and- wait! I dove for the painting, Scarface's tommy-gun fire sprinkling the sidewalk. My hand closed around the painting and I made a split- second throw- a little careless to be sure, but it was me or the painting.
The painting spun through the air, hurtling towards Scarface. He fired at the painting, but to little effect- the spinning art object made a tough target. It connected squarely with the evil doll's neck, separating head from body.
Scarface's head rolled to my feet, as I unsteadily pulled myself up. Not a moment too soon, as the "miracle pill" wore off, and I unsteadily leaned against a wall( I've been breaking each pill up into thirds to increase my stock's life-span). I slowly bent down and picked up the doll's head. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline, but I could have sworn that it was scowling at me.
"Better luck next time- mook." (Why can't I think these lines up on time?)
I suddenly heard the wailing of sirens, and my breath quickened. I've heard that the Gotham police don't take too kindly to vigilantism. I quickly popped a "minute pill" (for those short bursts of action) and began to sprint away. A thought passed through my head and I paused for a second. Reaching into my armor, I pulled out a chess knight, and gently tossed it on the pavement. Tacky, I know- but let's see your flair for the dramatic with the cops at your heels.
I made my way back home( one near-death experience is enough per night-for now) and here I am. I better write down my insight for the night as well. Apparently Scarface/Ventriloquist is more than just a simple DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) case- he appears to be an entirely separate consciousness- fascinating! That's all for now, Journal- good night.
The Knight (Entirely too tacky. I must find a codename!)
