Today, we stood in front of the alcove in which we had previously been seen as friends, as fellow followers. Then, we had been viewed as traitors, as scum. Now, we were this alcove's reckoning. Catwoman and Demon-Man stood in front, not Bruce Wayne or Selina Kyle. We had become new figures, shadows in the dark that approached you without your suspicion, and then hit you with the punch of justice. It would be a punch that many criminals would never recover from. It would be a punch that would make the scoundrels of Gotham tremble.
The priest's house would be in the backyard of the alcove. We had previously visited his abode for the celebration of our baptism, and had taken that opportunity to view the house's security, floor plan, and various rooms. We had taken that knowledge, sketched it out on a piece of paper, and deliberated on the best method of infiltrating his house. Today was going to be the fulfilment of our plans, the day in which we travelled into the lair of our first snake and smashed its head with a rock... metaphorically, of course.
We decided to complete our object during the long hours of the night. Not only would that be the ideal time for our costumes' dark colours to blend in with the surroundings, but the priest himself would be asleep, off his guard, and therefore easier to tie up for his court sentence.
Of course, since we were operating during the night, especially in a district such as Galalea, the chances of us running into some trouble on our way to the alcove were very high. And indeed, this happened on a few occasions during our trek to the alcove, but most of them were dealt with fairly easily using our knowledge of neo-karate.
For example, we were walking through your typical Galalea street, one that this time had the bundle of rags that was unfortunately a common and disheartening sight in the district, emitting loud snores from the ground. It gives me a small inkling of warmth to think that at least everyone, no matter what terrible situation they are put in, is allowed to enjoy the small and blissful pleasure of sleep that is the salvation of every human being from a bad day. It gives me a feeling of warmth that the homeless people of Galalea can at least find a home in the palace of their dreams, an escape from the ills and maladies of their waking hours.
The bins that emit the noise of rustling rats are still not silent during the night. One still hears the fighting over scraps of food between the rodents of Gotham City. The buildings, which look so drab and miserable during the day, now put on an appearance of threat during the night time. One can barely make out some of what the building actually is under the street's faulty streetlight, and the rest of it is hidden in shadow. Who knows what person may be lurking there, ready to attack us? Who knows what goes on behind some of the building's dimly lit walls? Those types of buildings are usually the ones with high windows.
Occasionally one hears a chuckle from somewhere nearby, or perhaps a groan somewhere far off into the distance. One shivers at the cold wind that blows on one's clothing, even if it is the insulated clothing of my Demon-Man costume. The noise of owls hooting can be heard, of crickets chirping, and of bats flapping their wings in the night, two large, black shapes fluttering by.
As Selina and I were experiencing those things, myself feeling slightly nervous, especially because we had already had one unfortunate encounter during the night, Selina's ears pricked up and she looked around warily.
"What?" I whispered.
Suddenly, she performed a Slippy Slop on the person behind her, knocking him down onto the ground by sliding underneath his legs and pushing him on his ass. The person, alarmed, started to get back up, but I pushed him back down with a Giggle of Terror, leaving him on the ground for the time being. The man we had just knocked down was a common solitary mugger, with a balaclava on his face.
"What are you?" he whispered, as he took a look at my costume.
"I'm the shadow in the night, the protector of the innocent," I growled, "I'm Demon-Man."
The man looked at me, the eyes beneath his balaclava frowning.
"I don't know, you look more like a bat to me," he said.
I gave him an extra punch for that. Many other assailants commented on the similarity of my costume to the appearance of a bat throughout this night. No one thought I was a demon. And I suppose, now that I look at my costume again, I really do look like those curious winged creatures. They suit me in a way as well, kind of like cats suit Selina. I suppose it might be a good idea to re-brand. Couldn't hurt, after all.
I guess I'm Batman now.
Selina and I climbed over the gates of the alcove and wandered past the building. The experience somewhat reminded me of Alfred, Borris, and myself sneaking into Jeremy Fox's house, which brought up some painful memories, but filled me with the determination that this night would not end like that night had ended.
Similarly to that night, I felt like the alcove was frowning upon us, as if it knew that we didn't belong there and didn't want us to be trespassing, as if it knew that, if everything went according to our plan, it could potentially never see a priest within its walls again.
We went past a backyard that was filled with trees that looked similar to the ones on the mask that Miserysts wear when they set out to make Bruce Wayne an orphan. I never thought I could have feelings of hate towards a plant. At the end of the backyard was the priest's house, no lights visible through the windows, the inhabitant clearly asleep and probably dreaming of fucking Ferdinand as Misery looked upon them with jealousy.
The alcove was two-storeyed, with the priest's bedroom in the upper storey, another fact that reminded me of the other night. We knew that the priest didn't have any cameras in his house, as he felt that the cameras on the alcove would suffice to reveal any potential intruders. We were fine with being caught on camera anyway. It would give a picture for the press to talk about.
Selina picked the lock that was on the priest's front door. We opened it and snuck through the first storey of the house. We noticed a small light on the counter, somewhat illuminating the contents of the kitchen. We knew that what we wanted would be in the priest's bedroom. We entered the room of the venerable father, and found him peacefully asleep, not a snore to be heard, the sacrifices of human blood not weighing upon his conscience at all because of the comforting belief that it was for the greater glory of his God.
No neo-karate tricks needed to be used this time. We simply tied up the body of the priest, picked him up, and then placed him down on the floor next to his bed, in a position that was more convenient to us. Then, because both Selina and I enjoy irony, we slapped him awake. He awoke to find two guns staring at him in the face, held by two dark figures, one who looked like his immortal enemy, Misery, and to find his hands tied up, meaning he was helpless and could not do anything about it. This caused him to start emitting a little scream. I slapped him again before it could turn into a louder scream.
"We won't have any of that," I growled in my Batman voice.
"What do you want?" he asked shakily, looking at us with widened eyes, "I am but a harmless priest, no cause of pain to even a little butterfly."
"We both know that's not true," purred the Catwoman.
The priest looked at her, and no doubt the memory of our first meeting with him, the one in which we had been in our costumes, resurfaced.
"Emerald and Reginald," he whispered, "So you've come to do the work of Misery. One of you even looks like him."
He spat.
"Well go on then," he said, "I am ready to meet my one true Lord, my God Ferdinand, the Ensnarer of Happiness, the Defeater of Misery."
"We're not here to bring misery upon you by killing you," I growled, "We don't do that. We're probably just going to send you to jail."
The priest breathed out shakily in relief. Clearly, he wasn't willing to die for his God as eagerly as he was willing to kill others for him.
"Why 'probably'?" he asked.
"Because it's, ultimately, your choice whether or not you go to prison," purred Selina, "If you tell us what we want, you can continue living. If not..."
"Please!" the priest wailed, his forehead now filled with beads of sweat, "I'll tell you what you want to know! I'll tell you anything!"
"Where is your journal?" I growled.
He pointed under his bed. Selina pulled out a book with a red cover, made out of fluffy material, and with the insignia of the Miserysts stamped on it. Clearly, this was the journal you could buy at the alcove store. Selina flipped through its pages.
"It's legit," she confirmed.
"Is that all?" asked the priest shakily.
"No," purred Selina, "What about the list of the contacts you have, of the other priests of the Miseryst religion?"
"It's in my phone," said the priest, "On the drawer beside my table."
"And their addresses?" I asked.
"All in there."
After some more questions were asked, we found what we were looking for.
"And finally," I growled, "I'm assuming you have blueprints of the other alcoves in Gotham? Where are those?"
The priest told us once again. Selina wrote down the addresses of the other priests in her phone, I took the blueprints and rolled them up inside my belt, and Selina took the priest's journal and left it clearly visible on his drawer, the perfect place for the police to find it.
"Guess what, dear father?" I snarled, after this was all done, "This is just the first step. We're going to pay a visit to the other honourable fathers of Miserysm, and we're going to do the same to them as we did to you. What will they say, when they see two Misery-like figures arresting them and putting them in jail? What will the other Miserysts say? Maybe Misery has escaped the Pits of Damnation, and maybe it's time for our God Ferdinand's reign to come to an end in Gotham City. And you are the first step in his downfall."
We made him swallow a tracking pill, escaped from the priest's house, and called the police. And as Selina and I walked up to the Tank-Lamborghini, which we had parked in a friendlier neighbourhood, and drove back home, I knew that my sleep tonight is going to be filled with dreams of Mayor Garcia, and not the death of my parents.