01x05 - Episode 5

[bunniefuu]

announcer: Blue Ribbon
Content presents:

"Batman:
The Audio Adventures."

[soft music]

narrator: An alley...
[safety clicks]

A p*stol...
[thumping]

- No!

narrator: An orphan.

This Sunday night
on Gotham City One's

award winning docuseries
"Ghosts of Gotham:

The Thomas and Martha Wayne
Murders 20 Years Later."

Relive the night
that has been called

"Our rude awakening from
the dream of a better Goth"--

[static buzzes,
electronic musical trill]

- We interrupt this broadcast
for a breaking news report

from Gotham City One.

[upbeat music]

- ♪ Gotham City One ♪

- This is Jack Ryder...
[crowd cheering]

[dance music playing]
Live in downtown Gotham

outside GCPD headquarters.

It is hard
to describe the scene.

Is it a street party?
Is it a t*rror1st mob?

The so-called Bat-Signal
on the roof

of police HQ is wheeling
and gyrating

in a multicolor display
to the throbbing beat

of an incredibly loud
electronic dance track.

[crowd cheering wildly]

[electronic dance music
continues]

All the lights
in the GCPD tower

are pulsing and strobing.

Is it a mere malfunction,
or is it sinister sabotage?

Whatever it is,
it's inspired a mob

of apparently intoxicated
young people

to have a violent dance party
in the street out front.

Let's talk to--excuse me,
excuse me.

Would you say a few words
for the--

- Hey, man, you're Jack Ryder.

- Yes, yes,
can you tell us why--

- Oh, have you heard?
- [laughing]

- Joker is love, baby.
- Excuse me, what did you--

- The Joker is love, daddy-o.

Joker loves Gotham City.
Joker loves me.

[laughing]
Joker loves you.

- Joker loves Jack Ryder!

- Well, no, don't say--
[microphone feedback]

- ♪ The Joker loves Jack Ryder
and Gotham City One ♪

- Please don't say that.

That is not
an official endorsement.

I do not accept

the endorsements
of any mass murderers.

People know that about me.
- Hey, Gotham City, good news!

[microphone feedback]
- Don't take--

- You'll never be
lonely again.

- Give me--
- This Valentine's Day...

- In the dark purple dawn...
- Okay--

- Joker takes me.
He takes you.

He takes the whole
dang city in...

[together]
Holy matrimony, Batman!

[wild laughter]
- Give me that!

Ugh, mania!
There's no other word for it,

and I think we all know
who is responsible.

This reporter can now confirm
that the rumors are true.

The city is on alert
for an impending attack

by the Joker
on Valentine's Day.

[sinister laughter]
Stay tuned

to Gotham City One
for the latest developments.

♪ ♪

narrator: Gotham, a city
of 12 million devils

dancing on the head of a pin.

Join us now for a tale of

"Life and Death
in Gotham City."

February 8th.

After a few days' return
to the state of siege

that passes for normalcy,

Gotham City is
reminded once more

that on Valentine's Day,
the Joker has vowed to strike.

With Two-Face and Penguin
engaged in open warfare

and the Riddler
still at large,

the Batman ricochets
from crisis to crisis,

wondering why exactly Catwoman
has been so quiet lately.

We resume our adventures
as the sabotaged Bat-Signal

continues to spasm
in polychromatic fits

across the ink-dark sky.

Far below, a writhing mass
of drugged teenagers gyrates

to the beat in front of

the Gotham City
Police Department HQ.

As the music becomes
more frenetic,

the terpsichorean riot
threatens

to descend into violence.
[sinister laughter]

- Back off!
We will use tear gas!

- He said tear gas.
[laughs hysterically]

all: [chanting]
GCPD, pudding and pie,

gas the kids
and make them cry!

[hysterical giggling]

[sirens wailing,
tires squealing]

narrator: A squad car
pulls up on the curb

to deliver Commissioner Gordon
to the scene

of mounting mayhem.

- Muldoon,
what the hell is this?

- It's some kind of prank,
Commissioner.

Someone put the word out
that a flash mob dance party

was going down tonight
outside the GCPD building.

- Dance party?

- Here's a flyer.
Look for yourself.

"Dance until
the dark purple dawn."

They promised the kids
free drugs

and a laser light show
courtesy of the Joker.

- Oh, for the love of--

- Sure enough,
Joker's crew hacked all

the building's
automated systems,

cranked the music
through our own PA.

When the crowd gathered,
two g*ons in clown masks

sprayed 'em down good
with God knows what chemicals.

- This is childish.
What's he playing at?

- It's a real headache, sir.

Half the force is
basically barricaded

in the building by the crowd.

- Well, can somebody get the--
[phone rings]

- I've got the Batman
on the line, sir!

- Incredible.
That guy is always available.

I don't know how he does it.
[clears throat]

Batman, well,
I guess you heard.

- Yes, I know about
the flash mob, Commissioner.

Manage the situation,

but don't
overextend resources.

It's a distraction.
[tires squealing]

I'm in pursuit
of an armored car

from the Center
for Disease Control.

It's been hijacked
by an armed as*ault team

led by Joker's handyman,
Charlie Charliehorse.

- Eat lead, Batman!
[rapid g*nf*re]

- Batmobile,
deploy battering ram.

[mechanical whirring]

[expl*si*n and crashing]

- Uh, Batman,

you sure you should be
on the phone right now?

- The armored car
is carrying a sample

of weaponized tetanus.

They were en route
to a military facility

outside town.

- What the hell is
weaponized tetanus?

- It's a highly contagious
and fatal form of lockjaw,

makes you grin yourself
to death.

The Joker is shopping
for ingredients

for one of
his designer poisons.

His understanding
of neurotoxins

and psychedelics makes
the Scarecrow look

like a lab assistant.
- So come Valentine's day,

we can expect more
indiscriminate mass m*rder.

- The Joker doesn't see it
that way.

He considers himself
an entertainer,

an educator, a public service.

[tires squealing]
- Hilarious.

- Don't dismiss it.

The Joker has figured out
a potent truth:

everyone's going to die,
and if they have a choice,

they prefer to die laughing.

Religions have been founded
on shallower insight.

Full reverse
and engage strobe cannon.

- Batman, maybe we can debrief
after you're safely--

- No, it's fine.
I can talk.

Flamethrower,
target auto-lock.

- Yeah, it really sounds like
you should be

concentrating right now.
- It's fine, Commissioner.

- But is it though?
[flames whooshing]

- Yes.
Deploy parachute.

[tires squealing]

[water splashing loudly]
Okay, no, you're right.

We should continue
this conversation later.

I'm currently in freefall,

but remember
the clock is ticking.

Whatever the Joker
is planning,

Valentine's Day is
coming up fast.

Batman out.

narrator: With a weary sigh,
the commissioner of police

feels the insistent tug of his
slumbering nicotine addiction.

- Muldoon, let's work on

evacuating the central
personnel from HQ.

We need badges on the street,
even the crooked ones.

- But what about this crowd,
sir?

Do we force them to disperse?
- Absolutely not.

Let them tire themselves
out here

rather than spreading all
over the city in that state.

And have blankets ready

and a cardiac response team
standing by.

They're having fun now,

but I'm sad to say these kids
probably haven't yet heard

the punchline to the joke.

narrator: In Gotham City,
the Joker draws Cupid's bow

and aims for the k*ll.

Will this fiended archer
of hearts drop his prey

where it stands?

The answer in a future tale

of "Life and Death
in Gotham City."

[radio static]

- Ha, ha, ha!
Ahoy there, me hearties!

If you got a whale
of an appetite,

the sail on down to the
Bounding Main Seafood Shanty

for Gotham City's
finest seafood and chops,

home of the bottomless basket
of hush puppies,

and that's as many hush
puppies as you can eat

within reason, people.

Don't be the guy who ruins it
for everyone.

And for a limited--
[static squealing]

- We interrupt
this broadcast--

[warping]
We interrupt this broadcast--

- We interrupt--
- We interrupt this broadca--

[distorted echoing]

- [laughing]

[placid classical music]
What's up, Gotham?

Riddler here,
AKA Edward Nygma.

Not my real name of course,
people,

it's a nom de guerre.

Thought that was obvious,

but it's the number one
question I get,

not "Hey, what's it like to
be the most powerful intellect

on the planet?"

Nah, it's usually,
"Hey, Riddler, did you know

your name is
E. Nygma, huh, huh, huh?"

Like they thought of it
or something.

[laughs]

Pet peeve, okay?

Anyway, I have a special
message for the Batman.

I'd like to generously propose
a brief cessation

of hostilities between us.

Oh, not for me,
but for your sake, you moron.

Thought I'd give
your overheated skull meat

a chance to cool down.

It's the only humane thing
to do.

I can tell
after my last riddle,

it's just a pig roast
above your eyebrows.

[laughs]

[laidback ukulele music]
A real cerebral luau

upstairs at Batman's house,

you know what I mean?

So enjoy a very brief break
courtesy of the Riddler

because I assure you,

my next quiz is scheduled
for soon.

Hasta la pasta,
you dumb ding-dong--

- In conclusion,
a good rule of thumb is,

if you think maybe you took
too many hush puppies,

you probably did.

Put a few back, you glutton.

Just because it has calories
doesn't mean

you have to stuff it
down your gullet.

Aye, that's the Bounding Main
Seafood Shanty,

the freshest seafood in Gotham

on the waterfront next door
to the fish cannery.

Ha-ha-argh!

[upbeat music]

[soft music]

narrator: Gotham, a city

whose bricks
are mortared with mystery.

Join us now for a tale

of "Life and Death
in Gotham City."

♪ ♪

It has been more than a day
since Gotham City

last suffered
a catastrophic conundrum

as posed by that poisonous
puzzle man the Riddler.

Whatever erudite excuse
he may give you,

the reason for the pause
in his crime wave is simple.

He suffers from
a grave malady.

- No!
- One that befalls genius

and idiot alike,
and for which

there is no reliable cure.

This terrible affliction is
called writer's block.

- No, no, no, no, no, no,
zilch, nada, zero, zero.

- Secreted in the abandoned
book depository

he calls the Riddle Lair,

Edward Nygma tries in vain
to find a criminal enterprise

worthy of his genius in a box
of random wires and diodes.

- Nope, that's done to death.
[groans]

No, no, hack city, hack city.
Face it, Eddie.

You got nothing again today.
[groans]

Inspiration, my nine lovelies,
ubi sunt?

narrator: Setting aside
the jumbled box

of cybernetic knickknacks,

the Riddler calls
his acquisitions man.

[dial clicking,
line trilling]

- [distorted chatter]
- Yeah, Mr. Fiddler?

It's Eddie Nygma.

Yeah, well, I'm fine, Mr. F.,

but I'd trade it all
to mash my boot heel down

on the throats
of 8 million ignoramuses!

- [distorted chatter]

- You really want to argue
Latin with me, Mr. F?

Okay, it's ignoramuses.
- [distorted chatter]

- It is ignoramuses.

So listen, I need you
to deliver another load

of high-tech whatnot
'cause your last batch

of stuff is not doing it
for me today.

- [distorted chatter]
- What?

Oh, no, no,
it's my problem, not yours.

You do great work, all right?

So how 'bout this--
can you get ahold

of some full spectrum
night vision goggles,

an ultraviolet laser torch,
and let's just say,

the guidance system
for a nuclear warhead?

- [distorted chatter]
- Yeah, hydrogen b*mb can work

if that's what you got.
Take those items

completely apart for me
and send a random mixture

of the resulting pile of bits
and pieces as usual.

- [distorted chatter]

- No, surprise me.
[chuckles]

I'll wire the cash
from the Caymans account.

You can leave the delivery
with Ms. Tuesday.

- [distorted chatter]
- Yeah, she's my girl Friday.

[phone clicks]
Ms. Tuesday?

Oh, Ms. Tuesday!

When you have a moment please!

- The Riddler's
young executive assistant

enters the room,
preceded by the sounds

of an ongoing
technical discussion

concerning another issue.

- It's, like, pleated,
like, an accordion pleat.

No, it's a skirt.
I said that.

- Who are you
on the phone with?

- What?
Autumn.

- Who on earth is Autumn?

- My friend.
She works for Scarecrow g*ng.

- Could you hang up the phone
please, Ms. Tuesday?

I need your help.

- Okay, I gotta go, Autumn.
Call you back.

Okay, so what?
- What?

That's your response
to my request for assistance?

- Yeah, what?

- I feel like the
employer-employee relationship

has degraded a bit between us,
Ms. Tuesday.

- Okay?
- [sighs]

Okay, expect the delivery

of assorted high-tech
electronic components

from Mr. Fiddler
this afternoon, Ms. Tuesday,

and get rid
of those old items.

I'm done with them.

- Even little kids can clean
up after themselves, Eddie.

- Please, please
don't call me Eddie.

[frustrated laughter]

And I pay you to assist me.

- What the heck is
all that junk anyway?

- All this "junk" is
my creative tool, Ms. Tuesday.

I place various unrelated
electronic components

in a riddle box,
and I shake it up.

I pick a few out at random

and try to invent
something new out of them.

It's my process.
Oh, please don't touch that!

- What is this thing?
Looks weird.

- You have a photographic
memory, Ms. Tuesday.

You know pi to 12,000 digits.

Why can't you remember
to keep your hands off my--

[crash]

Ms. Tuesday, that's--that's--
that's fragile.

- It was till you
misaligned the diopter

without degaussing it.

Now it's a brick.
- [panicked exclamation]

I--

you're right.
You're right, Ms. Tuesday.

That's why
it was underperforming.

That's efficient
troubleshooting.

- Yeah, well,
I grew up in Arkham Asylum

'cause I'm crazy,
not 'cause I'm stupid.

So what, you couldn't think
of nothing with all this junk?

- Couldn't?

No, don't be ridiculous,
Ms. Tuesday.

Since I had my yogurt
this morning,

I invented an improved
quantum manifold,

a new molecular drill bit,

and a credit card sized
television set

that's powered
by normal body temperature.

But I didn't invent anything
particularly criminal.

That's why I need
new inspiration.

- Why don't you just
take the junk

you did invent and sell it?

- Oh, I never get tired
of this conversation.

- Get rich and call it a day.
That's what I'd do.

- Okay, once again,

because money doesn't
motivate me, Ms. Tuesday.

I'm an artist.
My medium is crime.

[phone dings]

- Yeah, I know you
always say that,

but it seems like
you're the only one

who ever says that, you know?

- Thank you for the insight,
Ms. Tuesday; that will be--

- Like, whatever
you're seeing,

the rest of Gotham City
ain't seeing it.

- That will be all,
Ms. Tuesday.

- Not that you ain't famous,

but it's definitely
Edward Nygma,

murderous egotist mostly.

I don't think I ever seen
Edward Nygma,

the artist of crime,

and you know you have me
clip all your press.

- I need to get back to work,
Ms. Tuesday!

- Okay, conniption fit.

- No more interruptions
please!

I'm laboring at the foot
of Parnassus.

- I don't know what that is.

- I need quiet to think of
a way to humiliate the Batman.

- Okay, but why?

- Because, Ms. Tuesday,

that slightly above average
show-off the Batman has

put me away three times.

That cannot stand!

- Yeah, but if you just
cooled it and laid low,

you could probably
avoid number four.

Just saying.
You're smart.

Why haven't you
figured that out?

- Ms. Tuesday, thank you,
but I will not

let the Batman's insults
go unanswered.

He locked me in that asylum
with drooling nincompoops

because he can't stand
that I'm smarter than he is.

He put his vile hands on me,

incarcerated me
as a means to cope

with his own consuming
jealousy of my intellect.

So yes, I'm
a little bit driven

at the moment, Ms. Tuesday.

It might not be about doing
the logical thing right now,

Ms. Tuesday.
[stressed laughter]

- Whatever,
guess I'll leave you

to your psycho meltdown then.

- Thanks as ever, Ms. Tuesday.

You really are
an indispensable--

[chimes trill]

- What?
- Aha!

- What?

- Eureka, ex nihilo responsum!

Domum dulce domum, eh, Batman?

[laughs]

Contraria contraris curator!

[laughs]

- So weird.

- As the overeducated
anarchist scribbles down

his latest fevered
mental confection,

his girl Friday, Ms. Tuesday,

watches with
a mild expression.

[phone chirping]
- Hey, Autumn, I'm back.

Oh, just like typical
Eddie Nygma

category five mansplain again.

Oh, I'm so sure.
Scarecrow, too?

Funny thing
about a super genius though,

they're no different from

any knuckle dragging
Gotham glute, really.

I mean,
even when they're smart,

they're way dumber
than they think they are.

Anyway, it's got, like,
an accordion pleat.

No, ugh, it's a skirt.
I said that!

♪ ♪

narrator: What toxic test
of the Batman's mental acuity

is springing forth
from the well-chewed pencil

of Edward Nygma?

Time will tell,
wish though we might

that it would not.

Wishes are for
birthday candles

or coins in fountains,

not the cruel custom

of "Life and Death
in Gotham City."

♪ ♪

- The fanfare...

[trumpets playing
the call to post]

The starting bell...
[bell rings]

And they're off!

Thoroughbred
and harness racing,

the Elliott,
the Gotham Gentleman,

the Patrick Wayne Stakes,
the Psyonis Handicap.

Ten races a night--
Gotham Downs Racetrack.

Every race has winners.
Come get your share.

announcer: And it's neck and
neck in the home stretch.

- The jockeys are tiny.

The horses are big--
suspiciously big,

unnaturally big?

Well, let's just say,
if you like

your performance enhanced,
we've got you covered.

[horse whinnies]

Dramatically fewer
fixed races--not none,

but that's why
they call it gambling.

[cheers and applause]

This Saturday at Gotham Downs,
it's old Kentucky night.

Everyone who gambles gets
a free pint of bourbon

and a souvenir riding crop.

We don't foresee any problems,

but we'll admit it was
a last-minute decision

that didn't get discussed
with the whole team.

Gotham Downs Racetrack!
[horse whinnies]

Enjoy them
before they're glue!

[soft music]

narrator: Gotham City,

the rainbow in an oil slick
on wet pavement.

Join us now for a tale

of "Life and Death
in Gotham City."

♪ ♪

The Gotham Downs Racetrack,
home to equestrian sports

and criminal pursuits
of various descriptions.

In his lavish private box,
Oswald Cobblepot,

AKA the blackhearted blackbird
known as the Penguin,

reclines
on an ostrich leather divan

as he waits impatiently

for his latest malicious
provocation to unfold.

- Look at this, Mr. Decondor!

"The Gotham Museum invites you
to waddle on down

to the new Oswald Cobblepot
Hall of Penguins"?

[aggravated warbling,
paper crumpling]

How dare they!
- Apologies, sir.

It is now two minutes
until the second race.

- Wha?
Finally!

Pass the binoculars,
Mr. Decondor.

I want to see
if our little pair

of idiot Harvey Dent shows up.

Two-Face fell
like a dead swallow

for my toucan ruse.

My bet is he'll lose
the other half of his mind

when he sees the mischief
that I have prepared

for race number two tonight.
[squawking laughter]

narrator: As if on cue...
[door creaks open]

- Now I say,
that is an exquisite pair

of binoculars, Oswald.

- You said it.
See, Bob, Bub was right.

We're packing the cheapo kind.

narrator: In waltz Two-Face
and his ever-present duo

of handymen Bob and Bub.

They are all turned out
for a day at the races.

- Ozzy's binoculars
are deluxe.

What's those fancy peepers
run you, Ozzy?

- [blubbering]
Harvey Dent?

Whatever brings you here?

- Why, it's that second race,
Oswald.

We know what you're up to.
- I'm sure I don't.

- [chuckles]
We don't know why,

but you're trying
to rattle our cage, Oswald.

[coin clinks]
Be careful.

The bars are there
for your safety.

- Spare me the double-talk,
Harvey.

I don't speak mental patient.
[squawking laughter]

[coin clinks]

[surprised grunt]
- Okay, we'll talk slow.

We noticed a funny thing
in the racing form today.

Tell him, princess.
- Look at this.

In the second race,
Two Coins In a Fountain is

running against
Second Time's the Charm.

- Two versus two
in the second.

What a pickle.
Who to bet on?

- That'd be
a difficult decision

to make with a coin toss,
wouldn't it, Oswald?

- Well, not for me,
but I don't see the number two

in every ink blot they show me
down at the booby hatch.

- Are you trying to be cute,
Oswald?

Because that's doomed
to failure.

- [laughs]
Try playing quarterback

for the Gotham Gargoyles.

You'd have better luck,
stubby.

- But all right, Oswald.
The game is shenanigans?

We'll play.

Bob, Bub,
trash the joint, boys.

- What?
[glass smashing]

You--
[squawking]

Mr. Decondor, do something!

- Yeah, Francisco, buddy, pal.
[c*ck g*n]

Do something, like sit
back down and stay down.

That's the whole range
of options right now, amigo.

Bub, smash
that crystal swan first.

- Then help Bob do a number

on those absolutely stunning
antique umbrellas.

I gotta say, opulent little
nest you have here.

[crashing]

- Should've said had here.

- Stop it!
Put that egg down!

That's priceless!

I'll get the cops down here,
Dent, you maniac.

I own more of them
than you do.

- No, you won't.

This is all perfectly legal,
my good man.

- This is my private box!
This is an obvious crime!

- Oh, it's astounding
what's legal in this town

under the right circumstances.
[metal clinking, crashing]

Lot of weird old timey laws
still on the books.

Justice is blind.

She's also
an eccentric old dame.

Take the 1907 Gotham City
Municipal Ordinance

for the Furtherance
of Bird Watching.

A Gotham legislator
slash amateur bird watcher

named Benjamin Waxworth Pie
wanted to encourage people

to take up bird watching
in the Gotham countryside.

- Oh, look there,
such magnificent plumage!

- But even back then,

your typical Gotham
property owner was known

to respond
to trespassers with...

[c*ck g*n]
- Say your prayers, city boy.

[g*nsh*t]
- [grunts]

- A double barrel bloodbath
free of charge.

- I say, you shot me.

- I was gonna say
inhospitality,

but he's not wrong.

So to immunize
absent-minded ornithologists

who had wandered
over a property line

from the consequences
of pursuing their passion,

he authored an odd law.

- All in favor?
- Aye!

- Any gathering of three
or more pairs

of binoculars constitutes

a licensed Gotham City
birdwatching society

and is exempt
from all trespassing laws.

[glass crashing]

And property damage.

[phone ringing]
So see?

You can call the cops,

but we're just
a bird watching club, Ozzy.

It's all legal.

We're just here
to watch the birdy.

- Well, answer the phone,
Mr. Decondor!

I don't know what you thought
your exit strategy was

for this stunt, Dent,

but you won't go home upright.

I'm going to--
- Sir, it's the city.

They're shutting down
the Iceberg Casino.

- [squawking indignantly]
Shutting down?

- Something about--

- Let us chime in on this one,
too, old pip.

Turns out, any house
of gambling is required

to have a nondenominational
chapel on the premises,

you know, a fighting chance
in a house of sin

to keep your soul
from perdition.

Now, this obscure criminal
infraction dates all the way

back to 1848--can you
imagine that?

Now, we didn't find any clergy
on your payroll,

so a call was made
by a concerned citizen.

- That's outrageous!

- One of thousands of curious
and antiquated laws

still in the books
in this crazy old town.

And we know them all.

You know,
if we was really crazy,

we could bring down
the entire Gotham underworld

in the court of law.

You want to try us?

Give us a reason
to burn it all down.

Then give us 30 minutes with
publicly available records,

and we can pull together
a legal strategy

that will squeeze your
precious criminal organization

until it's pulp, and juiced,
and served on crushed ice

to the federal government.

Ain't no trick umbrella gonna
cover your tailfeathers then.

narrator: The birdshot eyes
of the Penguin narrow

to two black points of hate.

- This isn't over, Dent.

Right now I need
to get my casino back open

before my big event
Saturday night,

but very soon when
you're in twice the misery

that you ever
thought possible,

I want you to remember
it was you

who escalated this.

- Enjoy the races, Oswald.
We plan to.

Business and pleasure
at the track today.

That's what you call
k*lling two birds

with one stone.

[laughs]

♪ ♪

narrator: This underworld feud
is neck and neck

and heading for
a photo finish.

The finale will mingle "Life
and Death in Gotham City."

♪ ♪

[squeaking
and gurgling noises]

[electronic whirring]

- [whistling]

[cackles]

♪ ♪

narrator: Gotham,
a glass jungle

whose cannibals wear finery.

Join us now for a tale

of "Life and Death
in Gotham City."

♪ ♪

In a dense overgrowth
at one end

of Gotham's derelict
Amusement Mile

stands the ruins of
the Gotham Zoological Gardens.

Amid the squalor,
and the filth,

and the handiwork of vandals,
a sign, "House of Large Cats,"

Is barely proclaimed
beneath an age of neglect.

But the only wildlife present
at the moment is

a frightened stool pigeon
flying

from the relentless pursuit
of a ferocious bat.

- Stop running, Billy.

- Leave me alone, Batman!
I don't know nothing, I swear!

- Is that what
you told Ms. Tuesday, Billy?

I need to know what
Riddler's planning.

If you stop running,
I swear we can just talk.

- Like fun, Bats!
[panting]

Billy Wristwatch is done being
dangled off buildings

just 'cause I hear things.

- Okay, Billy,
we do this your way.

narrator: Batman makes a
selection from his vast array

of nonlethal weaponry.

But just as he lets fly
with the attack,

suddenly, a flash of fur
and fury from the shadows.

- [growls]

narrator: The batarang
misses badly...

[crash]

For the caped crusader
finds himself squared off

against a pair of
fully grown Bengal tigers.

- [laughs]

See you
in the funny papers, Bats!

[tigers growling]
narrator: Batman has no choice

but to let Billy Wristwatch
escape

in to the night.
- [laughs]

narrator: As Batman
considers his options

for neutralizing the pair
of 700-pound predators,

a voice rings out
from the darkness.

- Dagger, Shank, bad kitties.

narrator: At the sound
of their mistress's voice,

the giant felids heel
like faithful Blueticks.

- No, no, no,
we don't eat bats, darlings.

They carry diseases
like naivety and sanctimony.

- Catwoman,
what are you doing here?

- Minding my own business.
I live here.

And you just threw one
of your toy bat things

through my window.

narrator: Indeed, Catwoman
carries the custom projectile

Batman just threw along
with a look of great pique.

- It's called a batarang.
Please give it back.

- It's called a batarang?

What are you, 12?
Actually, I guess you are.

When you got a crush
on a girl, you throw

a rock through her window.

It all tracks.
- It's not a rock.

It's a micro lathe titanium
airfoil with a razor edge

and near zero friction.

It's expensive,
and it was an accident.

Please give it back.
- Pfft, accident, please.

- Are you going
to give it back,

or do I have to go all the way
to my car to get another one?

I've got more work
to do tonight.

- No, see, I know
you can throw this thing

through the window
of a tractor trailer

going 90 miles an hour
and change the radio station

with it, so an accident is
not plausible.

Why are you really throwing
your crap through my window?

You're scaring my cats.

Come here, sweetie.
It's okay.

- You have tigers now.

- Hey, there's the world's
greatest detective.

Yes, these are tigers.

They used to belong
to some schlemiel

with a sword gimmick
named King Scimitar.

I heard he's scratching
around at back doors

like a stray dog still,
but he's on his way

out of town with
his tail between his legs.

- I know, King Scimitar's
a two-bit mope,

but he had tenacity,
and he was cruel.

I appreciate your results,

even if I don't
condone your methods.

- So you thank me
by spying on me.

- I chased a criminal

into the abandoned
zoological park, Catwoman.

I didn't get
to pick which way he ran.

That's not how chases work.

- Like you didn't know I moved
in here last week.

- I don't monitor
your activities.

I have an entire city
to protect.

- You know
every manhole cover,

storm drain, and mailbox

up and down the length
of Adam Street,

and you expect me to believe--

- There aren't any.
- What?

- There aren't any mailboxes
on Adam Street anymore.

There were several south
of O'Neal,

but postal revenues are
struggling, so they--

- Get off my lawn, okay?

I don't need you keeping
an eye on me, Johnny Law.

By the way, I'm pretty sure

that's not a regulation
police uniform.

- So that's why
you're being petulant.

My work with the GCPD is
the essential next step

of the mission.
- I knew it.

You're really here
to sell me tickets

to the policemen's ball.

- This isn't about pet causes
and posturing.

This is a w*r for the soul
of Gotham City.

- [laughs]
Oh, you dummy.

Souls can't be saved
in this town.

Who's saving anyway?

It's a buyer's market,
and mama needs folding money,

so scram.

I've got a night ahead of me.
- Believe me, I'm leaving.

This delay is threatening
my patrol schedule.

But first I want to talk about
your new friend Vicki Vale

from the "Gotham Gazette."

- Oh, you don't monitor
my activities?

- I know that you've been
scheming together,

and I know it's your intention

to make life difficult
for Mayor Hill.

I'm asking you to be careful
and to request my help

if you need it.
- Oh, that's sad.

- No, I mean it, Catwoman.
Mayor Hill is not to be

toyed with
like King Scimitar.

Hamilton Hill is on
one end or the other

of every graft scheme that
makes port in Gotham Harbor.

He's not an enemy
to be taken lightly.

- Well, I appreciate it,

but he's never going
to see the end coming.

While he's sweating what
I'm gonna do to him,

he has no idea
my new girlfriend

at the gazette is all up
in his business,

and I'm getting her everything
she needs.

- Hmm.

narrator: As the number nine
elevated approaches,

the Batman scales
the rusted scaffolding

and makes ready to depart.

- Nice talking to you.
I knew we'd stay friends.

- Your tigers are
exotic wildlife,

and private ownership
is a violation

of several city ordinances.

I'm only looking the other way

because I know the animals
are receiving excellent care.

Try to take the same care
of yourself.

narrator: As Catwoman watches
the number nine disappear

into the Narrows
on a bitterly cold night

in a forsaken city,

she feels an unexpected
lightness in her heart.

- Come on, kitties.
Let's go inside.

narrator: In the abandoned
zoological garden

stands the remains
of a house built for kings.

Tonight its occupant is
a queen.

And at this moment,

as she reclines
in dilapidated luxury

amid treasures stolen from
the wicked and undeserving,

she smiles,
a whisper of contentment

amid "Life and Death
in Gotham City."

[relaxed bluesy music]

♪ ♪

- ♪ Gotham City ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Gotham City ♪

♪ The treasure of the night ♪

♪ The gargoyle by the harbor
wears jewels ♪

♪ Of neon light ♪

narrator: "Life and Death
in Gotham City" Epilogue.

[phone ringing]

[phone clicks,
voicemail beeps]

- This isn't
Mayor Hamilton Hill,

and you've reached a number
you don't have.

You never made this call.
Get it?

So just keep it short,
and if you're calling to ask

about how much for
a no-questions liquor license,

well, you can't afford it.
[beep]

- Yeah, your honor,
this is Billy Wristwatch.

I'm just a small-time nothing.

You don't know me,
but you want to.

See, I just heard
there's a nosy reporter lady,

and she's working
with the Cat,

and they're both fixing
to ring your bell.

I can give you
the whole bag of dirt

for a price.

[tense dramatic music]

♪ ♪

narrator: To be continued.

♪ ♪

[upbeat music]