Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #10 – “Walpurgisnacht”! We’re at the end of the story here, ladies and effeminate gentlemen like myself. In the previous installment, Batman has a run-in with Mr. Whisper and learns what he’s been doing putzing around for 300 years. He also learns that Whisper plans to unleash a plague upon the town to collect a few million souls for the devil so that he can keep on livin’.

Batman’s got 24 hours before this shit goes down. He’s probably going to spend 21 of those hours strapped to that rolling conveyor grunting and sweating. Sexy.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #10 [August, 1990]
Written by: Grant Morrison
“Walpurgisnacht”

lmao, look at this loser on the subway tracks. lol and, also, lmao. I don’t know what suddenly happened to bring Batman to this horrible predicament, but my interest has been verily piqued!

A candle burns. The wax melts. Slowly, the lever it sits on rises, bringing the other end slowly toward a button. Batman’s gettin’ nervous!

The button sends a small rolling cart hurtling toward a balloon. The cart has a stick of dynamite strapped to the top; fuse on one end, point needle on the other. Batman’s startin’ to sweat!

The popped balloon causes another lever to rise, sending the ball down a ramp. The ball knocks a platform down, sending a ball on a chain swinging to hit a lit candle on a rolling cart, knocking it down a ramp. Batman’s startin’ to get tired of trying to suspend his disbelief with this elaborate and needless Rube Goldberg device!

The candle ignites the rope holding the big oil barrel that is ready to crush Batman’s skull. Somehow he is already standing up. There is nothing to show how he got out of the ropes. One second he’s sitting there clenching a fist, the next second he’s looking at the crushed rolling conveyor with a look of smug satisfaction. “Nice try,” he smirks. All that suspense for naught. Naught!

Elsewhere in the cathedral, Whisper’s got the young nun by the wrist and he’s dragging her through the hallowed halls. “At precisely thirty minutes to midnight, the full moon will be magnified by the central panel of the rose window,” Whisper tells her, explaining the beginnings of what seems to be another stupid Rube Goldberg device. This guy likes his Rube Goldberg devices. He must have watched the beginning of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure quite a few times.

I’m no nun, I’m Peter Lorre! Can’t you tell?

Whisper shakes, rattles, and rolls this girl, asking why she doesn’t care that he’ll be unleashing a plague upon Gotham! *slap slap* Everyone’s gonna die! *slap*

This girl seems to be possessed while Whisper continues to prattle on about how the moonlight will activate the secret switch carved onto the crypt door. “Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!” she gurgles, appearing to be on Jupiter right now. All is going according to plan! He can trust this weirdo to help carry things out, right?

“What is this?” Whisper asks, faltering a tad. He picks up a piece of paper. “My hour has almost come when I to sulph’rous and tormenting flames must render up… myself… Batman put this here! It must have been…”

An explosion. A door blasted off its hinges. Batman in the flesh! *Arsenio audience starts whooping*

Whisper is not happy about this. Not now. Not ever! The nun’s eyes are still rolled in the back of her head like she’s having a terrifying orgasm. The moon centers itself over the cathedral’s glass dome. Nun keeps singing Ring Around the Rosie. Whisper starts getting giddy. “The whole cathedral is in motion! Wheels revolve! Gears mesh!”

Sir, this is an Arby’s.

Whisper runs off excitedly. Batman tells the scared nun to wait right where she’s at, possibly because she doesn’t want her to start hollerin’ in the street about the ashes.

Right into his trap, Batman. Whisper wants to follow him, right into the cathedral rumpus room that he built 200 years ago. Centuries of musk fill the air! Breathe it in, that’s INVIGORATION baby! Go ahead, breathe! That’s some good plague air! BREATHE, DAMNIT!

Batman is in the room, but he’s breathing through a filter. Whisper holds a corked pink flask while yelling some Edgar Allan Poe plague poetry. Then he sets the flask down, leaps toward Batman, and knocks his surprised ass to the floor. The floor gives out, I think, and they tumble down a very deep shaft, for some reason. Splintered wood lies everywhere. Someone goes “uff”. They are both unhurt after falling 20 feet, just like in real life. I’ve fallen 40 feet before and didn’t get so much as a prolapsed anus. They landed on train tracks. Go ahead and guess what’s to come! Go ahead, I’ll wait…

…no, idiot.

“The bell will strike, Batman! The bell will strike and the crypt will magnify the bell’s tone. The phial will shatter! You’ve lost! You’ve lost everything!”

BEEP BEEP SMASH. Subway train hits the raving man. Batman had already moved to the side, the sly dog. Batman thinks he’s dead, but of course he’s not dead. Why would he be dead? Whisper can’t just die, dummy.

“Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird,” Whisper croaks before karate-chopping Batman’s wrist. This old man is holding his own pretty well. He keeps punching and whipping Batman around, causing him to grunt and honk and moo.

It’s Utility-Fucking-Belt time! He didn’t want to do it, but Whisper pushed him to it. Let’s see… matches, pins, screwdriver, magnifying glass, beaker of sulfuric acid, paper clips, forklift, anime porn, toothpick, aha! Pepper spray! SQUIRT!

Whisper calls the cowled one a bastard. The bastard kicks Whisper across the face. Upper hand is a glorious thing. It’s better than the lower hand by a long shot. Too bad it’s short-lived. Whisper turns the tables and half-nelsons Batman back onto the train tracks.

Embrace me, sweetie. I want this moment to last forever.

“I promise you, Batman…” Whisper whispers whisperly into Batman’s tender ear. The train is coming. “This will hurt you more than it hurts me.” Yes, yes, very bittersweet. A tear to my eye, it brings.

Batman tells this guy to shut the fuck up and throws him forward over his head. Whisper plows through the windshield glass of the train, scaring the goddamned crap out of the conductor. Batman ducks under the train as it rolls over, because apparently subway cars have 20-inch wheels. The bell will start tolling for thee soon. Four minutes until midnight. Then it’s Happy New Year, Gotham! I mean, no it’s not. It’s the plague thing. That’s right, I forgot.

Batman runs up to the bell tower and tries to keep the bell away from the clapper. He uses his fancy Apple Watch to call for Alfred, who is likely sound asleep in his cozy bed wearing a nightcap and slippers.

The definitely-not-dead Whisper books it back to his hotel room where the creepy nun is waiting for him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he cries. “Who let you in?”

Oh, Whisper. Whisper Whisper Whisper. Shhhhh. Shhhh, Whisper. Shhhhhh…

Shhhhhh…

Don’t you recognize her? You made a deal with her 300 years ago. I mean… not her. You know what she means. All I can think of right now is how she did NOT stay put like Batman asked! That’s gonna piss him the hell off.

“You are mine beyond reprieve, false monk. You always were,” she smiles devilishly. And since you thought to deceive me, your last day is forfeit.”

Whispers stands there, hands raised in front of his face like a crying lump. Two minutes until this bitch is gone forever. “No. Oh no. Christ, save me! Forgive me my sins and let me live forever!”

How pathetic. Christ isn’t going to save you now, you loathsome dingus. Try not bringing the plague next time. Let’s go, sir. Time’s a-wastin’.

NOOOO. What an ugly shade of violet! NOOOO!!

Later, the same news reporter from Issue #6 stands in front of the cathedral again. The Mayor’s time capsule stunt is a no-go. The reconstruction is an abject failure, considering that now there’s only more reconstruction to be done. What a waste of time, let’s just go home everyone. See ya.

Bruce Wayne is watching TV in what looks to be a greenhouse. Alfred, the best character in DC Comics, enters the room with his package. Bruce’s package, not his package. Well… nevermind.

The package is wrapped up in Whisper’s soul cord. The box contains a human heart. “Shall I alert the Tin Man, sir?” Alfred asks, which got a legitimate laugh out of me. Alfred’s a fucking baller, dude.

No no no, this calls for a trip on an airplane! Batman recalls what the abbot told him at the monastery in Issue #8, that the Lake Dess cathedral may be tainted with dark magic. Monks have heard things. Seen things. Smelled things. Haunted bells ring in the acoustic gloom. Ghosts that look like bed sheets pop up and say “boo!” then give you a hug.

Batman travels all the way to Austria just to throw the heart into the lake. The end.

Final Thoughts

Anticlimactic, Grant Morrison! Batman should have eaten the dang heart!

But seriously, this was a pretty good story. I should’ve seen the nun thing coming, that the devil appeared to Whisper as the same young nun he tortured and killed 300 years ago. Poetic justice is delicious like so much upper hand.

This anthology series is tops. I’m looking forward to the next one where Batman learns to square dance with Kareem Adbul-Jabbar.