Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #2 – “Dark Moon Rising (Part 2)”! In the previous installment, Catwoman gets in the way again. She’s not going to be pivotal to the story, but there will be annoying interludes where she’ll pop in to hiss and scratch. I’m bored talking about her already.

Bodies are showing up in the morgue with throats torn out and necks gnawed upon! Aliens?? Ozzy Osbourne?? Batman is on the case!

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #2 [November, 2006]
Written by: Matt Wagner
“Dark Moon Rising (Part 2)”

Some woman named Dala has drugged a young lady at a bar and has dragged her sleepy ass to members of the Brotherhood so that they can all summon other members of the Brotherhood so they can do scary occult Brotherhood things. This is where the real meat of the story will lie. And speaking of meat, my friends, I’m going to go get a dang sandwich.

“THE BROTHERHOOD HAS GATHERED FOR THE BLOOD COMMUNION.” Oh boy! Will there be a buffet?

Dala, I assume, presides over a group of red-hooded dorks. Behind her is the sacrifice chained to a table by her wrists and ankles. Dala says some purply prose stuff about “lusting for eternity” and “slaking thirsts on their prey”, which is just flowery way of saying “let’s eat this broad”.

The poor nameless woman is stripped half-naked with blood flowing out of her nose. She regains consciousness and starts realizing that she is some sort of ritual sacrifice! She reacts accordingly. I’ll leave that to your imagination. A couple of “omigods” are spouted.

So, yeah, she screams for help, but the room is full of motherfuckers who will do the opposite of help, in fact. “They always awaken as the ceremony begins,” explains the sultry red narration boxes. “The screaming only serves to heighten our fervor.”

A man lookin’ like the Red KKK enters the room now, and there is a hushed, awed silence! “His own silence overwhelms us, draws us into his fierce, throbbing need.” This is getting sexual. Put the kids to bed.

The Red KKK Man approaches the hapless, screaming woman and exposes her soft, tender, supple, beefy, creamy, buttery neck.

A chill circles the room. The stench of diarrhea fills the air.

So, like Zoidberg, this dude slurps at her neck with a 1,000-yard stare of, you know, ecstasy. “Mnnn– yessssss–” he moans like a slut. Then he invites his fellow brothers to come up to the altar to enjoy a tasty meal! “The fountain of life spills its heady elixir to you.”

Dala holds a goblet full of blood. See, it’s a communion. I know how communions work.

“Niccolai has promised that, some day, all of us will be the same as he,” Dala thinks. “Forever fearless, voracious and young.”

If you thought that was gross, let’s move onto something that’s even more disgusting! Bruce Wayne is in bed with his current squeeze Julie Madison. They really illustrated the chest hair on him. Oh yeah, and he still has those deep Catwoman claw marks. Julie is worried about her weird, antisocial, alcoholic father. Bruce is like “fuhgeddaboudit.”

Bruce takes this moment to make it about himself. You see, Julie lost her mother, so she’s very protective of her father. MUST BE NICE TO ONLY LOSE ONE PARENT.

“I just wish he could learn to forgive himself. Like I have,” says Julie.

“He may just need more time…” Bruce responds, making a face that suggests that he was tired of this conversation four hours ago.

Julie decides to ask Bruce about the scratches on his chest, and Bruce’s beady little eyes dart around the room nervously. That’s the end of that scene, but I assume Bruce smacked the bitch as a lesson.

He never came back from his trip to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory!

We have a new narrator coming up, folks: Julie’s drunk dad! He aims to meet up with Salvatore “The Boss” Maroni, who I spent a lot of time annoyed by in The Long Halloween. Mr. Norman Madison and Sal have some unfinished, official business to take care of, see? And if Madison can’t talk in front of Maroni’s thugs, then Madison is going to start picking up his teeth with broken fingers, see?

There’s a mention of an incident at a country estate, which Sal doesn’t want to talk about and tells Madison that he’s off the hook on it. Fine. Moving on. Madison still owes Sal 3,000,000 smackeroonies. Sal could use the money. He needs to settle things with Carmine “The Roman” Falcone! Those two are always butting heads. It’s adorable!

Just as Madison claims that he’ll do anything to get Maroni his money back, the thugs grab his spindly arms. Maroni is through with the likes of you, see? Old news, see? Don’t show your face round these parts lest you want to start picking up your fingers with broken teeth, see?

Then Maroni tells Madison to let his “friend” know that he lived up to his end of the bargain. The “friend” being, of course, the ever ubiquitous Batman. Madison tries to dismiss his connection with Batman, but he’s already out da fuckin’ door. Curtains, see? That’s what’s next for you, you odious harpy.

Speaking of odious harpies, District Attorney Harvey “One Face for Now” Dent has entered his office to find Batman lurking in the corner waiting. Dent smiles, unphased. Another mention of the country estate, and another mention of “shut up about it”. I’ll let you decide who said what.

Why, that Carmine Falcone. If Harvey Dent didn’t know what was good for him he’s march right up to the Roman’s front door and give him such a big kiss on the cheek!

But Batman’s not here for kisses. He’s got other things on his mind.

Yeah, heroin goes missing all the time here in Gotham. They call it an “oopsy-daisy” and hope the children don’t snort too much of it.

So Batman wants to find this so-called “heroin” before either the Roman or the Boss do. Dent’s like “well, that’s great and all, but I can put these fucks in jail if you connect it to them, please.” Batman nods sagely. They shake hands on it, and Batman will fail and cry about his bulleted parents and retire to his Batcave for three months while he detoxes on water and gummy worms.

Now it’s Julie’s turn for a scene. She’s been waiting outside the Wayne Manor gates for an age, staking out the place to try to get a glimpse of Bruce’s nefarious proclivities. “Does he really expect me to believe he got those scratches from tripping over a garden rake? Like Bruce Wayne ever goes near a gardening tool.” Ha ha! That’s right, lady! As if!

She continues waiting. I continue being bored.

Ah, I almost forgot about everyone’s favorite cuddly mustache Jim Gordon! He’s inspecting the body of a dead woman. Her neck has been ravaged by either coyotes or a particularly angry paper shredder. “What the hell is wrong with this city?” he thinks, taking a drag on his cigarette. He tells the other deputies to leave the scene so that he can fuck the corpse, but Batman shows up to ruin the fun. “I guess this leaves no doubt. It is a serial killer at work,” Batman rasps. Jim Gordon agrees, and he’s plumb sick of it, I tell you whut.

They both stare at the body sadly. Stupid city with its killers and copycat killers and killer wannabes. This one is also fresh out of blood, and she has plenty of bruises on her wrists and ankles showing signs of a struggle. No DNA evidence of any kind. Cold case, it seems. Cold case, see?

“The repetitive nature of these crimes… it’s almost ritualistic.” Batman narrows his eyes seriously. He notices tire tracks in the alley. He sprays some schmutz on it and retrieves a perfect mold of the track. To the Batcave for analysis!

Elsewhere, Dala is whining to Niccolai about wanting a turn to harvest blood. Niccolai looks like Trent Reznor from behind, which is fitting I suppose.

As soon as you burn that 69 tattoo off of your wrist you husky slut.

Niccolai, of course, tells her “not yet” and Dala is getting impatient. She wants some of that healthy forever-livin’. Niccolai says only the worthy get such a gift. Gotta weed out the slackers, you know?

In the Batcave, Bruce looks through his microscope and determines that, yes, those are indeed tire tracks. Based on the treads, it’s a hearse! Man, he’s good, this guy. He also swiped some fluids from the scene, somehow. A mix of exotic perfume and animal sedative. The plot thickens like his dick in a gloryhole.

Alfred enters the room looking cantankerous. “Sir, I do hate to interrupt you from playing with your chemistry set… but I need to remind you of a Wayne Foundation meeting this coming afternoon.”

In short, it’s Bruce’s bedtime (6am) and he’s tuckered out. Off to the Batbed where he sleeps upside-down.

Julie returns home dejected that she was staking out Wayne Manor all night to come up short on, well, anything. She discovers her lush dad on the couch sleeping. “N-N-…Nub-ia? Feh?” he says before she slips off to bed herself. She’ll remember those harrowing words for decades to come…

Norman Madison is currently dreaming. He’s running from his predator. He’s getting endlessly pursued by… The Bat! That dang bat! “There is no respite. No safe haven.” He’s here for revenge! For vengeance! Justice! AND IT KNOWS HIS NAME! AHHHH!! RUN!

Oh, Norman, you silly goose.

We end at an abandoned warehouse where a few Brotherhood thugs break in at Dala’s direction. They’re getting kind of sick of the gig, honestly. No benefits, for one thing. And morale is low. This Niccolai guy? He smells like pickles or something. At least the blood is tasty, you know what I mean. It’s just… I don’t know, the work is unfulfilling.

Batman is waiting in the rafters to descend crotch-down on top of these street toughs.

Final Thoughts

Batman vs. The Vampires! Norman Madison vs. the Mob! Jim Gordon vs. the City of Gotham. Julie Madison vs. Who Cares!

So many threads! So many “intriguing” plotlines! Four issues to go! My pantaloons are tingling with excitement and… oh no, wait, I have to pee. See ya.