Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18 – “Venom (Part 3)”! In the previous installment, Bruce Wayne is all hopped up on pills like Aaron Sorkin writing fourteen episodes of The West Wing in one evening. His dealer, Dr. Randolph Porter, is keeping him hooked as an experiment. One day, the streets will be positively littered with coked-up strong-ass Batman clones who will rid the world of, like, homeless people and skateboarders.

Problem is, that pesky Captain Jim Gordon is starting to meddle. So kill his ass for us, Batman. Can you do that for us?

And Batman is like “ok”.

Let’s go see Batman kill Jim Gordon. Makes me wish it was Congressman Jim Jordan, but we can’t have everything.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18 [May, 1991]
Written by: Dennis O’Neil
“Venom (Part 3)”

Bruce Wayne lookin’ like Grizzly Adams, pills falling all over the floor, Batsuit smelling like feces and failure. And pee. Let’s see this guy spiral downward even further!

“No sweat. I’ll kill him. I’ll bring you his head on a platter with an apple in his mouth.”

Could these be his words? Could he mean them?

Batman’s going to take care of this before the morning sun. Before anyone can say “boo” like a scary nighttime ghost! Boo! Heh heh! Booooo.

So now that we’ve all agreed to murder a police officer, let’s have those tasty, tasty pills! “I don’t have any ready,” Dr. Randolph Hitler tells him. “Perhaps when you’re done with Gordon–”

General Mustache Face wants to make it clear to the Batmurderer that he’s not going to commit murder here! Oh no no no, this is “justifiable homicide”. We can’t afford to have weak-ass men in his position. The city is going to Helena Handbasket, and she’s a real bitch. Can’t have that. Plus, he’s getting in the way of progress and whatnot. Stab him in the face with an icepick or something. Choke his ass with your utility belt. Do something useful for once in you damn life, idiot.

Batman frowns and leaves. It’s about 4am, perfect time to murder people in their sleep Phil Hartman-style. Except that Gordon guy is walking his dog right now. He puffs his pipe arrogantly like the arrogant jerk that he is! He deserves to die!

D’oh! Not today, please! D’oh! D’oh d’oh d’oh!

Batman leaps from the trees conspicuously, to say the the least. And the most. “I’ve come to kill you… I mean… I’ve been sent to kill you, and when I don’t, they’ll send someone else.”

Gordon frowns, inconvenienced. “What the devil are you talking about?” Heh. What the devil. Jim Gordon is British today.

It’s Randolph Porter and the other guy. The man! He’s… he wears a hat… General Slaycroft! They want to kill you for reasons. Gordon grabs Batman’s shoulders gently and asks if he’s all right. Batman is all like “whhhhrrrrrr”. Then he grabs Gordon’s coat and tells him to kill these two in the morning if Batman doesn’t first! Rawr!

Later, in Slaycroft’s crappy colonial house, you’ve got Porter stuffing papers into a crappy briefcase while Slaycroft’s crappy son sits despondent in an armchair. These guys are in hot water! Gordon knows that the men that were killed and shot and killed served under Slaycroft. He will have likely told other people. It’s only a matter of time now before he figures out that Slaycroft’s favorite ice cream is Cherry Garcia, then it’s all over. Their only hope now is to have Batman’s addled ass squash that fucker.

Speaking of Batman killing Gordon, the devil himself has arrived at Slaycroft’s house to not kill Gordon at all! “You’re going nowhere. Except to police headquarters, where you will make a full confession to Captain James Gordon or District Attorney Harvey Dent.”

WHOA WHOA WHOOAHAO. Slow your roll bro, that’s a lot of names to remember! Hold it, no one’s going to the police HQ? That’s ninny nonsense, sir. Here’s what will happen instead: Slaycroft and his posse will leave, and–

WAP SMACK CHOONT FLUNTZ!! Batman knocks Slaycroft’s dick in the dirt and then throws Porter over a car, where he lands hella on the pavement. Miraculously not dead! He gets crabbed by the collar and lifted up. “YOU ARE GOING DOWNTOWN!” Batman screams in Porter’s fucking face.

THAT JEFF DUNHAM IS HILARIOUS! I CAN’T GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD!

Porter is like “uhhh nooooo I’ve got pills, idiot” and then he waves a bag in Batman’s face. Then throws the bag to the side, where Batman all but leaps after them. While Batman is distracted by horrible, uncool drugs, the three start moving out. There’s a plane to catch… although Porter dropped all his documents from his briefcase on the ground, but there’s no time to collect them anyway! Batman can’t even see paper while he’s munching on pills, it’ll be ok. They’ll be there on the ground when they get back!

Batman is overjoyed when he finds the pills, but then realizes right away that pills aren’t the answer! He dumps the pills and maintains a steady stream of good ol’ self-loathing…

So who better to talk to about boosting self-esteem than snarky-ass Alfred?? Batman calls him up in his run-down Gotham City high rise apartment. Now this is funny: Batman, still in full uniform, looks like dogshit in a phone booth. He stammers like a smelly junkie! “Need your help. Need your help. Know you’re mad at me. But got no one else. Want you to lock me in the Cave. Don’t let me out for a month. No matter what.”

No food or water, sir. Loud and clear. Feces dropping everywhere. Sounds like a plan. “Meet me at the mansion in half hour,” he cries, continuing to forget key words in his sentences. “Please.”

Now Alfred looks positively feverish with worry! “I shall be there.” No contractions for Alfred! Speaks like a professional, unlike that dumbass Batman.

I’ll rip up your butler diploma so fast it’ll make your head spin.

Into the cave he goes. All the other exits have been bricked off. He’s got enough cans of beans to survive a whole winter, let alone a puny month. Alfred suggests a doctor or, you know, a less insane plan. Bruce just scowls at him. Doctors are idiots. Fingers up the butt? Sounds like a sexual predator to me! Sighing, Alfred closes up the Cave and starts raiding Bruce’s fridge.

Slaycroft’s son – I don’t know his name, so I’m just gonna call him Chet Beefcake – asks where their plane is headed. Slaycroft angrily tells him to zip the lip. Well, if you must know Chet Beefcake, they’re going to Santa Prisca to lay low for a couple of years! I hope you brought your yo-yo. Then, after half a decade, they’ll return to Gotham to finish their business! Airtight long game, here.

At Police HQ, an officer reports to Gordon that Porter’s house is clean of any evidence or Bad Guy Clues. Gordon instructs him to check the airlines. Maybe they went to Santa Prisca to lay low for a couple of years! Meanwhile, I want to see Bruce go nuts in a hole in the ground, but I don’t get to see that yet. That sounds infinitely more interesting.

The three villains make themselves at home in some Santa Prisca cabana. Chet Beefcake hits on a local pretty girl by telling her EVERYTHING about Dr. Porter and his pops. Chet’s name is Timothy. I don’t like that name. The girl is Consuela. That’s more like it.

She basically slobbers his bone before he walks away.

♬♫♪ It’s been one week since you looked at me / Cocked your head to the side and said, “I’m angry”. ♬♫♪ ♬♫♪

Alfred, meanwhile, grows concerned that his master is being an idiot in a cave. It has been 10 days and counting. Alfred listens through the intercom system and hears nothing but jerking off and grunting. He does not say a word. He leaves his master to his important detox ritual. Then checks back again. Every six minutes or so. Maybe this guy cares about Bruce Wayne for reasons that are not obvious to me whatsoever.

In Santa Prisca, Timothy can’t even lift 100 pounds! So Porter is going to inject him with pill juice. The kid continues to flirt with Consuela and bond over their dead mothers! Then they kiss. Porter and Slaycroft are able to see this very public display of affection, and Slaycroft is relieved. This part is actually in the comic: “About time. I was beginning to think the whelp was a… you know. Sissy.”

Slaycrofts hopes that she doesn’t give him a sexually transmitted infection! These latinas a filthy creatures! Porter thinks Consuela might be useful…

Milestone! Twenty days in the hole. That’s an Xbox achievement.

Timothy is able to lift 150 pounds now! Atta boy! Surgery will be next, that’ll be fun. They’re going to stick a second appendix in him, one that’s made of drugs! I hope. Porter and Slaycroft talk openly in front of Timothy like he’s a lab rat. The kid walks away sad.

“Will he survive?”

“Does it matter?”

Alfred finally says something into the intercom. “It’s been more than three weeks…”

“I said a month.” And that’s that!

My dick-sucking robot is finally working! I removed the teeth! That was a really dumb idea in the first place, huh?

Timothy isn’t able to hold Consuela softly anymore. He looks monkey-browed and stupider than usual. Then he has a great idea to try hurting her for no reason! Then he gets called over by Porter to pull him away. Consuela doesn’t want to see Timothy anymore, but Porter promises that he will see her again…

Thirty days in the brig. Alfred is like “come out dear” and Bruce is like “NO, RAAAGGGHH, TOMORROW!” and that’s that!

Alfred wears pinstripe pants. This is important to point out.

Timothy is wrapped up like a mummy. “The moment has come for the grand unveiling. Are you ready, Timothy?” And, yes, Timothy was fucking born be ready, son!

The unveiling reveals Timothy. It’s just Timothy. Timothy covered in stitches and surgical scars. General Slaycroft raises a gun and shoots the shit out of his kid’s chest, but the bullets bounce right off of him. Like Superman, and just as intelligent! Timothy “Chet Beefcake” Slaycroft didn’t even feel any dang pain. The experiment is a success! Now there’s–

OK, hold on, Porter just jammed some scissors into the kid’s arm. Fine. I guess more tests are necessary here. “The alterations to your nervous system make pain an impossibility,” Porter says fiendishly.

Back to Alfred, who has been spending many minutes watching the grandfather clock like some kid on Christmas, waiting for his master’s insane month of solitude wind down. When it is time, he opens the door to the Batcave where a feral, shadowed dingus begins ascending the staircase. His pants are all ripped up and he needs a shave. Hair and beards don’t grow that much in a month, so Brucey must’ve taken a swim in some Minoxidil.

Nice mountain man look there, Grizzly Adams. Totally “badass”.

Alfred offers to help, but Bruce looks like he’s about to break down crying and insists he’s all right. No matter, the bald butler is just thrilled to see him again! He suggests an evening of television! Or, perhaps some steak and potatoes with–

No, certainly not. Bruce is going to go out and be Batman immediately, probably. He’s going to take a long shower and do some tender jerkin’ first, though. Maybe see the sun, I guess. If I were in a cave for a month I’d probably be ok not seeing the sun for a little while longer.

But enough about me, let’s get back to Santa Prisca where Timothy is manhandling the lovely Consuela. General Slaycroft orders the lad to kill her, which seems unnecessarily mean and weird. Timothy lifts her up by the neck and slams her head against the wall, cracking her head open. Seems unnecessarily mean and weird.

“What do you think, General?” Porter smiles.

“Well done. If we can make that weakling a man, we can do it to anyone.” General Slaycroft is a mean dude. I hope he gets his comeuppance, boy howdy.

The issue ends with Bruce donning his Batman garb. He’s going to go after Porter and Slaycroft since they’re just the woooooorrrrsssst. End scene.

Final Thoughts

These early ‘90s Batman comics are pretty grim. If this was an issue of the New 52, Batman would be frolicking in the meadow while giraffes blow rainbows up his tight little butthole.