Did I ever tell you about my first kill, Batman? No? As I am sure you are aware, my parents were dead and I was rich. So rich I could have anything I wanted, but of course, all I wanted was them back.
I now know that was impossible, of course, that their deaths served a higher purpose. But back then, I had yet to experience the joy of cold steel cutting through warm flesh.
I had no idea how I could save these people from the relentless misery of their existence.
...
Really? Then I'll stop now. Find another telephone, Batman. Goodbye.
Call Two:
You made it. I think I will continue my story. I feel the need to talk, to confess maybe. I was rich and alone. But not for long, of course. I took to gambling, or maybe it took to me. If only I had been good at it, I may not be where I am today.
As my life spiralled out of control, I desperately formed a plan. A plan to win back my parents' money and be happy again. If I didn't work, of course. Plans like that never do, but as I stood outside the Iceberg Lounge on that hot summer night. I remember feeling something. Hope maybe.
Call Three:
The Iceberg Lounge was crawling with the disgusting flesh of humanity. You could find anything there, if you had the money, of course. At the beginning I seemed to be winning. The cards all went my way and I found myself at the owner's table. For some reason I thought I would win, that he would play fair. I looked around the table. I saw the people I was against. Card sharks, thugs, princes and the disgusting midget who ran the place.
One by one they all lost or folded. The chips were piling up, and it was just him and me.
Call Four:
They called him the Penguin, even back then. He had both eyes of course, that little accident hadn't happened yet. And both of them were looking at me when i put down my cards. The six of clubs. The six of diamonds. He looked sacred. He learned forward and I could smell the cigar stench on his breath. The six of spades and finally the six of hearts. I felt good.
And then he started laughing. He belched out smoke as he put his cards down on the table. Card by card, my heart sank. A three, a four, a five, a six; a damn seven. His straight flush ended me there. I was lost and thrown out into the city to die, penniless.
Call Five:
Can you imagine what it was like, Batman? I was numb, I'd lost everything and I was alone. Crying like a baby staggering through the streets of this city until I found the answer that I had been looking for.
I stood there on the Sprang Bridge looking out to see. I felt the warm breeze on m skin, and it felt right. I looked down and imagined myself falling into the blissful arms of my mother, and then he appeared. He held out the knife and demanded my money. My money! Can you believe it? I looked into his cold, desperate eyes and I saw something familiar, something inevitable. I saw oblivion. I saw that we were all the same, stuck on a miserable loop that demands salvation. So I gave it to him.
Call Six:
Can you imagine the vagrant's surprise when I grabbed his knife from his hands? It was instinctive, it was beautiful. In one movement I sliced out his throat and gave him the gift of salvation. It happened so fast but I felt every joyous sensation.
The blood sprayed over my face and I saw what little life was left in his eyes leave. But then it was over. I felt lost. Like it had been meaningless, that no one could acknowledged my sacrifice and then it happened.
Without realising what I was doing. I plunged the knife into my forearm and cut deep. It was incredible. I felt my body elevate to a higher place. It had become a temple to my work.
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