Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #11 – “Prey (Part 1)”! Another fresh Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight story, this time written by Doug Moench. I don’t know anything about that guy, not even how to pronounce his last name. Is it “Munch”? Is it “Mensch”? Is it “Zeta-Jones”? I don’t know and I refuse to look it up.

In the previous storyline, Batman finds himself up against a man who cannot die, as he had sold his soul 300 years ago for 300 more years of life! *counts on fingers* Yeah, that adds up. The man goes by Mr. Whisper and starts killing crime bosses that have wronged him in the past.

With his time on Earth coming to a close, Whisper attempts to unleash a plague upon Gotham, collect the millions of souls, and barter with the devil to extend his life. It doesn’t work. The devil gets him. Everyone wins! …well, almost everyone.

A brand new story awaits! Let’s crack open this bad boy. Maybe Bruce Wayne will let Alfred sleep in the stables tonight.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #11 [September, 1990]
Written by: Doug Moench
“Prey (Part 1)”

“The one in the cap lights up. He’s a cop. The fifth I’ve counted in as many minutes. The cop about to make the buy is even easier to make out – except to his dealer… It’s a complex setup for a small-time bust… but behind it is a very simple logic: even the smallest root leads back to the tree.”

Guy deals the drugs, the undercover cop screams into his bitch-ass walkie-talkie that the deal has been made, and now a bunch of bitch-ass cops spring out to grab this poor bastard. It’s too bad that Batman scoops this guy up and grapples his way to the top of the theater building. “It’s that Man-Bat again!” one of the cops is heard to cry out. That dratted Man-Bat, also Man-Batting the fuck out of everyone’s best laid plans.

“The drugs. Where did you get them?” Batman asks the guy, hoisting him by the shirt.

“Wh- what? D- drugs?”

The cops have found a ladder and are thinking to scale the building. I’d kick that thing down if I were Batman. This is his jurisdiction!

“Who’s your supplier?” Batman growls at the guy. The cop now yells that BOTH of them are under arrest and get the hell down here before he spanks their asses ruddy! The guy gets scared, tells Batman to back off before the cops shoot both of them.

“All right, man… I get it from… the F- Fish.”

Batman throws this guy away like an old piece of fruit, then peers over the edge of the theater marquee. The cops keep him covered.

The other guy has half a mind to stab this Man-Bat. “Cops are gonna love me, after I do ‘em a favor and stick that–” Nope! Batman knocks the knife out of his and and knees him hard right in the face. It goes KUNCH.

“Here. I’m done with him,” Batman tells the cops, holding the limp body of the man over his head. “Your turn now.” He throws the guy down onto the cops. Ladder gets knocked down. Everyone’s dazed, in a tizzy, stymied, and shaken. Not stirred. That does it, though. Batman flew the coop. They got the dealer, but this awful, smelly vigilante eludes them yet again! He’s good for that.

As the man smokes his pipe, Sgt. Cort can’t help but admit he makes a good point. Morale is in the toilet bowl, and this Batman has elevated it to the toilet tank.

Sgt. Cort, the man in charge of the bust, speaks to Captain Jim “Fancypants” Gordon in his office later about this jerk Batman ruining everything all the time ever! Bad for business! Gotta stop this guy before he ruins more morale.

And Jim Gordon, ever the contrarian, instead posits that perhaps, maybe, Batman is actually good for morale? How about them apples, Sgt. Dipshit?

It’s clear that Gordon hates this guy, but he hates the whole force. Nothing but a bunch of rotten eggs and bad apples. But Cort’s opinion is that this vigilante is makes the whole force look bad, incompetent, and less than sexy. “…some vigilante who’s twice the criminal as the scum he’s stealing from us.” And Gordon thinks this is an odd turn of phrase. Like, really? Less for you to worry about, ain’t it?

Captain Gordon excuses himself from the riveting and productive conversation. He needs to get dolled up for a TV news panel! The very news that Bruce Wayne is now watching from the comfort of his own home while Alfred oils him up and gives him a cocktail of lovely medications to ease the pain of beatin’ up bad guys at the movie theater.

“Tonight’s topic of discussion is: The Batman: Savior or Scourge,” the smiling panel host with the mustard-colored suit and the mustard-colored shirt and blue and red striped tie mumbles. With him are the dashing Jim Gordon, Gotham Mayor Wilson Klass, and psychiatrist Dr. Hugo Strange. A real gathering of the finest minds.

The Mayor is like “No one in Gotham is above the law, gentlemen.”

DC Dr, Strange, not to be confused with Marvel Dr. Strange, is like “Batman is extremely obsessed, craves individual power, and has a paranoid mistrust of others.”

Captain Jim Gordon is like “I wanna go home.”

No way, Alfred. Leave it on. I love watching bald dudes with no eyeballs yammer about paranoid mistrust.

The host asks Strange what he means by “obsessed”. Obsessed with what, exactly? Dressing up like a freakin’ bat? Making the police look dumb? Collecting Precious Moments figurines? Which one is it?

Dr. Strange posits that it’s all of the above, ESPECIALLY the part about the Precious Moments figurines! Obsessed with the night, the darkness, and vengeance. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he or a loved one proved to be a victim of crime – a crime committed in darkness.”

As Dr. Strange talks, Bruce Wayne gets more and more tense. Before anyone knows it, he has crushed a glass with his bare hand. Drink spilled, blood everywhere, Alfred asks once again if he should turn the TV off. Once again, Bruce tells him to leave it on. He hasn’t crushed enough of the glass yet! A hand fully embedded with shards, that’s the end game here. Obsession. Vengeance. Shredded palms.

Dr. Strange continues. Batman wants to take all credit for his victories, but he wishes to remain anonymous. All the fame and glory to a proxy. An alter ego. The Batman, as it were. This indicates both schizophrenia AND split personality syndrome! Ain’t that a corker?

Gordon himself has heard enough of this prat’s ramblings. A real quack, this guy. Of course he’s anonymous! He’d be arrested otherwise, you dumb ninny!

Sure, a good point. Full of good points, Captain Gordon, as usual. But check this out: he wants to masquerade as a filthy bat! One of God’s most loathsome creatures of all time! Check and mate, sir.

Nope! Bzzzt! Wrong! Batman wants to just scare the criminals, goddamnit! Respectable, although Gordon does admit that Batman is breaking the law and justice should be served (wink), but all this psychoanalyzing is some seriously stupid shit. Get the hell out with that nonsense.

No one gets me like Jimmy Jim Gordon, my best friend and potential lover.

Mayor Whatshisface takes this opportunity to butt in on the back-and-forth by announcing that Captain Gordon will be in charge of the new Vigilante Task Force. “Captain Gordon here is a very pragmatic, no-nonsense cop, and he gets results,” he says, fist pounding down on the arm of his chair with CONVICTION. So this TV appearance was all a stunt to shove Gordon in front of a camera and tell the whole city that Gordon here is going to be commanding a sinking ship. That’s just dandy.

Bruce Wayne starts freaking out. “No. Not him. Not Gordon… Not the only one understands.”

“I’ll be in the cave, Alfred,” Bruce says, taking his leave. As we all know, the cave is his favorite jerkin’ spot. I hope they don’t throw in several panels of Bruce Wayne jerkin’ it. Again.

Gordon confronts the Mayor about this, er, Task Force, but the Mayor cuts him off by lauding his own ingenious idea. “You can start picking your men tomorrow,” he tells the frowning mustache face. Then the Mayor moves on to Dr. Strange, whom he also fellates gratuitously. “I really did like your observations, Doctor. In fact, I’d like to explore the possibility of you serving as the consultant to the Task Force.

Well, that’s gonna suck. Gordon is obviously torn, since Batman saved his kid and everything and he doesn’t want to ACTUALLY stop Batman. Batman is good for the city! He, like, hangs out in the sewers and makes sure they’re clean and stuff.

Bruce is trying to shake off what he had heard on TV by working on his car, which I assume will be the Batmobile. I don’t know. It could be some 1987 Ford Bronco. He wonders if his desire to work alone is actually some kind of ego trip, or if it’s just because he has some trust issues… or maybe it’s because he hates having to share his snacks. He does bring a lot of snacks when he’s out Batting around.

“What I need is a man I can trust… but not have a lot of faith in. A good man, but a man who’s not all that good…” Captain Gordon scopes out some potential suckers for his foisted-upon mission.

Hang on, Captain! I need my twenty minutes of Mirror Time!

Gordon needs someone who can really be completely corruption-free but still suck enough to suck at apprehending the Bat-like Man. And he has found the perfect guy. Sgt. Cort, who can’t even do a drug bust without fucking up! Sgt. Cort, a dumb guy with an angry vendetta against certain vigilantes! It’s perfect!

“You’re being tapped, Sgt. Maxwell Cort, to serve as second-in-command on the new Vigilante Task Force.”

“Yeah? Great!”

Bingo. Dr. Strange, too, is an easy sway. Even though he finds the consulting fee wholeheartedly insulting and paltry, he accepts the offer because this Batman character fascinates him like none other. There’s enough material here to fill a literal book. One to write himself, you might say.

“You’re accepting a consultant’s job just so you can write a book?” the Mayor asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all, Mr. Mayor,” Strange replies with the air of someone who wants nothing more than to write a book about this. “We were discussing figures, and the potential for a book is an added incentive.”

Now, Dr. Strange, sir, you may not see eye to eye with everything – or anything, for that matter – that Captain Jim Gordon says or does or believes or thinks or eats, but cooperation is of the essence!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Full cooperation is guaranteed as long as Dr. Strange gets uninhibited access to all police files! And uninhibited access to all the toilets of the ladies’ bathrooms in the precinct, please. And lots of fucking cake and pie. “And one last thing, Mr. Mayor. I report directly to you… and not to Gordon.”

The first thing Gordon asks Sgt. Cort to do is put together a list of ten men for the task force, and Gordon is met with a “BLARHABRHA HARBAJHRBA” reaction. Cort agrees eventually, but this is already a great start. Dr. Strange wants a full list of every mugger and murderer in the city, so Gordon may as well hand over the phonebook. “And don’t forget everything on the Bat-Vigilante, Captain – all nineteen alleged sightings to date, including last night.”

Gordon groans. Working sucks.

“He’s a nightmare, I tell ya! He got one of our street dealers last night.”

“So what? Street’s full o’ punks. We’ll get another.”

“So what–? So, what if the punk talked, Fish? That’s what’s so what.”

Fish and his cronies are eating Chinese food and playing cards in a basement full of crates, barrels, and pinball machines. Fish looks like a fat fish. A fat fucking fish wearing a pinstripe suit and a dumb hat and holding a pistol like some kind of 1920’s gangster caricature asshole. “So if the punk talked…” he says, likely with a shitty Brooklyn accent, “…the Bat-Guy comes here… to this…” he motions toward his gun with his ugly, smelly, mole-covered hand. “Time we cleaned the streets of them vigilante lawbreakers anyway.”

“Billy, it’s a terrorist hell-bent on crashing into the skyscrapers! Get my shootin’ gun!”

Batman’s car isn’t ready for a spin yet, but no matter. He decides to take his really stupid hang glider out for a spin. “Good thing there’s a lot of wind,” he thinks, sticking out like a sore thumb in the night sky. I don’t know where he thinks he’s going, but he’s probably off to bone Catwoman.

Hey, and speak of the devil herself! She’s skulking around the city looking pointy and purple. Meanwhile, Fish ain’t worried about any of the cops. They’ve got all the cops in their pockets… well… everyone except Jim Gordon, of course. Not to worry, everyone has a price. Maybe a finski will change his attitude. Get my wallet.

No, Fish, no. He can’t be bought, and it sounds like he’s got the big and bulky Sgt. Cort on his task force! That’s gonna suck come clobbering time; he’s got them meaty fists built for pummeling! Scary stuff, Fish! Scary, scary stuff!…

Speaking of Sgt. Maxwell “Maximum Mickey Mac” Cort, it’s the end of the day and Gordon’s desk does NOT contain a list of ten men for the task force! BLARHABRHA HARBAJHRBA! Not to worry, Gordie – Cort is being super careful about each and every name on that list. Right down the last crossed T and dotted J and dangling Y and superfluous 4. Plus, he wants, as he put it, “test them”. “Test them” by taking a few unmarked cars to the theater. Hmm…

Dr. Strange, meanwhile, is in his huge suite talking to his literal plastic mannequin fuck doll. I’m not even kidding. He’s got this thing dolled up with lingerie and fishnet stockings. “He’s fascinating, you know. Plays by none of the rules, acting when he wants and how he wants. Clearly disdains authority.”

This Batman never kills, though. Deliberate avoids killing, it seems. Must have been seriously crushed as a child by the murder of someone very close to him. Perhaps it was a mugging that escalated to murder? Maybe it was outside of a theater when he 8-years-old and his parents were both mugged and killed right in front of him? Analysis complete! Time to write that book! Right, dear? *mannequin’s head falls off*

Nah, Dr. Strange is a little off on the analysis. He decides it was a wife that had been killed. “…a dearly beloved wife… lost to the night in terror and pain…” Dr. Strange lifts up, as it appears, a Batman costume. “What else would make a man risk death time and again wearing something like this? Fascinating… absolutely fascinating… a mammal… that flies…”

While Dr. Hugo Strange wipes the drool off his face with the world’s largest napkin, Batman begins his descent to the Fish Warehouse of Pancakes. Sgt. Cort’s troupe of unmarked cars spots the guy, because he’s impossible to miss! “I say we gotta do somethin’,” one of the cops says. They pop one of those sirens on top of their car and start WEEEOOOOO WEEEEOOOOOO-ing through the town. And it’s just enough for Fish and his gang to get the hint and shove off.

In 1990, police officers in the United States made exactly $4.87 per day entirely in McDonald’s coupons.

It’s as Batman suspected: Fish’s operation has infiltrated the police! They’re all in cahoots! Cozying up to one another! Sticking their dicks into each other’s watermelons! Fish and Co. don’t have enough time to scramble out of there before Batman crashes his motherfucking hang glider through the warehouse window. “BWASH!” It’s enough to kill a man, all stabbed and lacerated to death! But Batman is impervious, he’s got 9 trillion comics written about him and he only dies in about 50,000!

“I didn’t expect a raid this early…” Batman thinks. “I didn’t think Gordon was that stupid.”

In the Cort car, the good sergeant is like “WHUZZAT??” These buttfuckers in Car #2 didn’t pass the test! “I wasn’t sure about ‘em, but I suspected.”

Fish Co. start shooting off their guns like maniacs looking for the Bat. He kicks their asses handily, so I won’t recount all that stuff. That’s boring. “They expected trouble,” Batman realized, and decided that he needed to take them all out before Gordon showed up (even though he won’t show up. He’ll never show up). He doesn’t want Ol’ Jimmy to get caught up in this utter bullshit.

This is when the Fat Fish, impossibly still conscious and able to hold a gun in his sausage fingers, tells the Batted One to freeze. Outside, Cort is kicking O’Shane’s ass. He’s the one that did the dumb move and blared the siren. “You’re out before you’re even in!” Cort screeches, slapping this guy across his pretty mouth. “All four of you!” Yep, a whole car full of failures. Back to the pawn shop unit with you ne’er-do-wells.

The Vigilante Task Force – or at least the men who are supposed to possibly be part of the list of the men recruited for the Vigilante Task Force that Gordon is supposed to be perusing and approving before effecting – is down to five men. Cort ushers them all to the warehouse where they will all take on the Bat Man! Everyone except Cort is nervous. Cort tells his men to man up!

This ain’t even that either! We’re pickin’ daisies! Put on your daisy-pickin’ gloves!

Cort’s being an idiot while Batman faces off with Fish. Right as Fish blasts his gun, Batman twists and dives fluidly enough to make it look like the gunshot took him out. In actuality, the bullet just blasted through his cape! This guy is slippery like butter and lard. And, like, oh snap, he sees that the cops coming into the warehouse aren’t at all Gordon! Gordon’s nowhere to be seen, he’s just smooching women who aren’t his wife in his office. Shit fuck!

“Take him down!!” Cort screams as his group unleashes a hail of bullets upon the Bat.

“No! The Fish – He’ll get away!!” Batman yells as he dives between some wooden crates.

Elsewhere, Catwoman looks like she’s wearing the cheapest costume ever made. It looks like a kid made it for Halloween. She’s stealing from the bedroom of a man who lies in bed either dead or breathing but recently orgasmed? Or perhaps orgasmed to death? It doesn’t matter, I don’t understand this sudden detour.

Batman recognizes this guy as the one from the last night during the theater drug bust. “Stupid,” Batman thinks, “yes, but not dumb. That makes him dangerous.”

With a guy like Sgt. Cort, then, you gotta bring out the big guns! But not guns because guns are not the big guns here. The big guns are smoke bombs! Batman brings out a smoke bomb and launches it toward Cort and his guys. FOOOMPH!

We get to see why Dr. Strange has a Batman costume. He’s being weird with it, dancing around clad in the thing like Adam West as that guy from that show. “…And there’s a thrill in it,” he smiles, swooshing that cape around. “A definite dark thrill… and almost shamanic power… releasing all inhibitions… making him feel omnipotent!”

Batman, on the other hand, finds no actual thrill in fighting cops while Fish gets away. Shit’s queerer than a three-dollar bill, which is a phrase that may or may not have bigoted origins! After this stupid, senseless fight, Batman’s going to hightail it home and regroup. And furthermore, h–

“You’re mine now!” Cort says, pointing his single-barrel shotgun right at Batman’s face.

“Nothing is yours… because you already let the big one get away,” Batman retorts, making a hilarious fish reference while grabbing Cort’s gun and batting him in the face with it with a “KRUK”. He jumps out of the warehouse realizing that he can’t use the hang glider anymore. Walking is dumb. He needs a car, man! Why, oh why, did he leave his home today without a car? Not even the one he takes grocery shopping? His 1990 Geo Metro? He could’ve taken THAT out on the prowl!

Ugh. Anyway. “Resisting arrest… assaulting cops… he’s dead meat, you hear?” Cort says, holding his broken nose. “That Batman is dead meat!”

Dr. Strange pulls on a cowl. “Oh, he’s a killer, this Batman… a killer who doesn’t kill… free to run rampant through the deep, secret darkness… making red love to the night itself… oh, how I envy him. Oh, how I hate him.”

Final Thoughts

See, what I love about Batman is that all the villains are these psychologically fucked-up wackaloons. It’s not just “it’s Gorgar from Planet Smorsmar here to destroy Earth!”, it’s more like “Dave Anderson has a collection of office chairs he made out of women’s femur bones and he squirrels his victims away in his immense below-ground Chuck E. Cheese ball pit where he sprays them with a hose filled with ketchup”.

I can’t wait for more. Dr. Strange is going to get fucking shot in the face.

Sorry for such a long post. I wouldn’t have read this either if I were you.