Beware the Batman fanfic – Bring on the Badguys!
Written by WDCain Man

Disclaimer: Batman was created by Bob Kane and owned by DC Comics, which is owned by Warner-Brothers. No money is being made with this story. No profit is being made from this fanfic.

Bad news: There are no new BtB episodes planned for February. Good news: The DVD collection comes out in two weeks. Bad news: It's only half a season. Good News: The BtB comic is a great read, sold 20,000 copies for its first issue, and is a good substitute for the show. Bad news: The comic is canceled with #6. There is no more good news.

I am sad. So here's a new chapter in the vain hope that WB doesn't put the kabash on my new favorite cartoon. Enjoy.

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Bring on the Badguys!

Part Five:

Film Freak

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Jon Murphy, successful movie producer, slowly came to his senses. He had a terrible headache. The last thing he remembered was driving to the studio. He braked at a stop sign and a homeless man started washing his Cadillac's windshield. He gave the man a dollar but then the bum stabbed him with a syringe.

Jon took in his surroundings and was scared by what he found. He was staked to the ground. Each limb was chained to a stake, stretching him into an x-shape. He couldn't move his arms or legs at all. Getting scared, he started looking around to figure out where he was. The night sky was overhead and he could hear traffic from far below. He was on the roof of a skyscraper.

But what confused him was that there were dozens of large birdcages surrounding him. Each cage had an ugly vulture in it that rattled the bars with their trashing, all looked mad with hunger.

"Terrifying, isn't it?" spoke a posh English accent. "When I first saw Hitchcock's The Birds I had nightmares for a week. I couldn't get the film out of my mind. But then again, that is what good movie directors do."

Jon focused on the speaker. He was an elder man in his fifties who carried himself in a dignified conduct. His curly brown-grey hair was folded in a gentlemanly parting with a profound long mustache running under his nose. He was dressed in an old Victorian tuxedo with a black cape draped over his small frame and a top hat. Despite his age, his eyes showed intelligence with ruthless cunning.

"Weston? Burt Edison Weston? But, but you're dead. You committed suicide… af-after your meltdown at the movie awards."

"Meltdown?" he repeated angrily. "Dishonor more like it. For thirty years I have produced brilliance time and time again, films that defied genre and left audiences and critics spill bound. Every project I directed is regarded as a masterpiece of cinema. It was only fitting that I would be acknowledged for my art at the Movie Awards." He moved closer, rage building. "And who did you producers give the Greatest Director Award to?" He was so close that Jon could see the rage in his eyes. "THAT HACK DIRECTOR MICHAEL DAY! A charlatan whose every film is nothing but CGI explosions, cliché stereotypes, fart jokes, and large bosom women! This is the man you gave my award to!"

"He brings in the dollars, Weston!" Jon yelled back. "Your flicks never bring in the numbers! It doesn't matter that you always get positive reviews from the critics if your movies don't make bank! That's why he won the award! It's not my fault you embarrassed yourself when you walked onto the stage when they called his name!"

"That low-class buffoon didn't deserve the award! I did!" The director pulled out a gold trophy. "That's why I swiped this before it fell into his gutter trash hands! It is mine and you had the audacity to try and take it back with your hooligans! Of course I took to the streets to protect its honor!"

Jon Murphy swallowed, scared out of his mind and spoke cautiously to try and calm the maniac. "And that's when you fell into the canal and washed away. There was a funeral held for you. I attended it along with half of Hollywood. I paid my respect. We all did."

"You mock me!" Weston countered. "You ignore my works of art and market shallow garbage that idiots eat up like asbestos! I will have my revenge on you, all of you! The producers who ignore me and that idiot director will know my hate and feel my fury!" He reached behind a cage and pulled out a bucket of rotten meat that he dumped over his prisoner.

"You freak!" Jon spat, grimy spoiled meat juice over him.

"I am a freak of the films, indeed. Film Freak is my new pseudonym, my num de Alan Smithee." Film Freak walked away as his prisoner cursed his name and the vultures screeched in hunger. As he neared the fire escape he pulled out a remote. "So let me give you an inside glimpse into the work of another grand film director. Do enjoy the performance of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, Mr. Murphy. This movie death has always been one of my favorites."

Film Freak pressed the button and opened the cages. The vultures screeched and their meal screamed.

"Take heart, Jon. You will not be alone. I plan to show all my targets reenacted scenes from cinema's greatest works. Be proud, Jon. You are the first to see the art of Film Freak."

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End Part Five…
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Jon Murphy is a jab at Don Murphy, a usual producer for Michael Bay's films who is renamed Day here. They say never do topical humor but that is Film Freak's bag. The guy commits crimes that are reenactments of famous movie scenes. I'm not certain how copyright works in scene reenactments but there are a ton of vintage films WB owns so there should be a wealth of material Film Freak could use.

His origin and design here is Vincent Price's character from Theater of Blood. He plays a vengeance-crazed stage actor who's out to kill award judges who didn't give him an award. All his victims are killed in a manner from a Shakespearian play. So I made just made Vincent Price's character Film Freak's character.

I can really see this happen in BtB's second season. Film Freak is targeting Michael Bay so Bruce funds his latest movie and Tatsu goes undercover as an extra. Then she gets upset because Michael Bay wants her to speak in an offensive accent and dress in slutty outfits so she's fighting the urge to break his nose. Typical of any woman/minority cast in a Michael Bay movie would want to do. Heh heh.

Read and review, my loyal readers!