announcer: Blue Ribbon Content presents:
"Batman: The Audio Adventures."
[soft music]
narrator: An alley... [safety clicks]
A pistol... [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 terrorist 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 goons 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 assault team
led by Joker's handyman, Charlie Charliehorse.
- Eat lead, Batman! [rapid gunfire]
- Batmobile, deploy battering ram.
[mechanical whirring]
[explosion 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 murder.
- 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 kill.
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 bomb 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 gang.
- 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. [cocks gun]
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...
[cocks gun] - Say your prayers, city boy.
[gunshot] - [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 killing 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 war 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]
narrator: "Batman: The Audio Adventures."
Written and directed by Dennis McNicholas.
Based on the DC comic "Batman"
created by Bob Kane with Bill Finger.
Based on characters from DC comics.
With performances by Jeffrey Wright,
Ike Barinholtz, Rosario Dawson, Heidi Gardner,
John Leguizamo, Dennis McNicholas, Seth Meyers,
Bobby Moynihan, Chris Parnell, Paula Pell, Katie Rich,
Ben Rodgers, Paul Scheer, Pete Schultz, Brent Spiner,
Jason Sudeikis, Kenan Thompson,
Ray Wise, Anna Crowe,
Ellis Hall, Tony Phillips, Robbie Wyckoff.
Executive produced by Jon Berg.
Executive produced by Kiliaen Van Rensselaer,
Deborah Henderson, and Jordana Freydberg.
Produced by Dennis McNicholas.
Produced by Angela Petrella.
Music by Doug Bossi.
Sound recording, design, and mixing by Big Yellow Duck.
Sound design, mixing, dialogue editing,
and rerecording mixing by Chris Gibney.
Production manager Kay Tinder.
Post supervisor Deanna Saracino.
Writers' assistants Trey Woodard
and Scott Weinstein.
Additional sound recording by Icemen Audio.
Production legal Jordan Rock.
Production accounting Reva Jones and Steven D. Smith.
Original songs by Doug Bossi and Tony Phillips.
Special thanks Bill Weinstein and Bryan Besser.
Production services provided by Insurrection Media.
The characters and events depicted
in this podcast are fictional.
Any similarity to any actual person living or dead
or to any actual events, firms,
places, and institutions, or other entities
is coincidental and unintentional.
This podcast is protected under the laws
of the United States and other countries,
and its unauthorized duplication,
distribution, or exhibition
may result in civil liability
and criminal prosecution.
Country of first publication United States of America.
"Batman: The Audio Adventures."
Copyright 2019 Warner Brothers Entertainment Incorporated.
Batman and all related characters and elements are
trademark and copyright DC Comics.
All rights reserved.
♪ ♪