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They say all men are created equal. That no matter who you are or where you come from, you can always strive to get out of your circumstances. Put in the effort, and none of life’s challenges will harm you. The person who thought of this has never been to Gotham. The jaunty whistle of a guard going off-duty are all that breaks up the distant sounds of shouting and traffic in this unsalvageable hellhole as he locks up Gotham’s high-end restaurant, Maroni’s. The shining beacons of lavish expense dumped in the middle of poverty and distress.
“Abner, as much as I do enjoy the auditory pleasure of your grunts and gripes, could you please hurry along?”
“My god, Tockman, will you get off my ass? This stupid code isn’t working, are you sure you got the right one?”
“Are you doubting me? Your leader? My sources are highly trustworthy, unlike your unscrupulous mug!”
“That doesn’t even make sense! You’re so annoying I want to just bust through the glass myself, forget about the alarm!”
“Um, guys? We should probably try and…“
“Shut up Mayo.”
“Yes, put a sock in it, dear boy, I can hardly hear myself think.”
“Oh…”
Buddy Mayo shuffles to the corner of the roof, keeping watch of the guard as the other two continue their verbal sparring match. His lifelong dream of becoming a comedian was thwarted by a lack of appreciation of food puns, and now with no work and no family left, he’s stooped down to…this. Wearing a bring blue jumpsuit and a big green cucumber on his head. A beeping noise goes off and his two “partners,” Polka-Dot Man and Clock King, celebrate while Buddy zones out into space.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”
“FINALLY something intelligible out of you Abner! I never doubted you, you know!”
Polka-Dot Man just groans in exasperation, giving each of them a bag, a jetpack and readies his weaponry.
“Remember, some of this kitchenware is worth thousands of dollars. The register is linked to an alarm, so don’t touch that unless you want the entire Maroni family on our ass. Go in, grab the kitchenware, and leave. Got it?”
“Yes, yes you did a great job reciting my own plan at me.”
Abner looks to Buddy, expecting an answer.
“Well I’m just a bit nervous, after all this is my first job, and you two are seasoned professionals…”
“You’ll be fine as long as you-“
“OH! Seasoned! Very good Buddy!”
Clock King keels over laughing as Polka-Dot Man is staring daggers through Buddy.
“…Now, if we’re done making an ass of ourselves, let’s move. And no matter what, don’t get caught.”
Buddy descends down to the floor first.
*BRRRRRRRRRRR*
“OH COME ON!”
His two associates in unison seem somehow angry at Buddy for Abner failing to take into account that the guard hadn’t left, and saw a tubby man floating to the floor.
“Why in the ruddy hell did that guard decide to do one more do-over at THIS time of night?”
“I told ya we should have took him out earlier, now look at us. We need to go. Mayo, you good?”
“I…I think I’m going to hurl.”
“…If you vomit on me, I will kick your ass.”
“Seconded.”
“Guys that’s not fun- “
One big yank and the wheezy rookie is back onto the roof. They prepare to leave, but are suddenly surrounded by smoke. Amongst the coughing from the three, they see someone... no, something moving among the clouds. They all stay huddled together, all three knowing who's in with them but none of them want to admit it. Clock King speaks up, while trying to survey the area amidst the smoke:
"Why in the devil is it here? They were supposed to be on the other side of the city!"
"Hell if I know. I suppose this is a crime family's restaurant after all."
"Um, g-guys? What are we going to do? Do you have a plan, King?"
Before the Clock answers, a projectile, with all the precision of a throwing knife, hits Polka-Dot Man in the head, dazing him.
"Argh...GOD DAMN IT SHOW YOURSELF, ASSHOLE! WE KNOW YOU'RE HERE!"
He would live to regret those words. Out of the smoke, out of the darkness, came a terrifying sight. Barely a body could be made out, a hulking, towering monster materialized in front of them. A mass of dark blue, only being cut out with searing white angled eyes, and the almost-glowing yellow bat across his chest. The consequences of their folly have arrived.
"Screw you, Bats! Uraaaagh!"
Polka-Dot Man starts blasting straight away, the bat deflecting all his shots and dodging those that could do a number on it. Abner realizes he's close and tries to land a punch, but three swift knees to the ribs and a throw into a wall later and he's down.
The giant snaps round, staring a hole through Clock King.
"Why are you here William? You served your time in prison, you're putting yourself in grave danger for no reason."
"Oh does the big bad bat care about my wellbeing does he? Well if you must know, it turns out 'former Joker henchmen' and 'fired from Wayne enterprises' are a surefire way to make sure no one will give little ol me the time of day. Needs-musts and all that."
"You're going to get yourself and your associates killed. These are dangerous people."
Clock King checks his stopwatch and does a dramatic pose.
"Funny, so am I! Get him Buddy."
"Huh?!"
Clock King does a dramatic "go on" gesture, waiting on the man who's only combat experience is losing a fight to an angry patron over a mayonnaise pun to take on the bat behemoth . Buddy charges forward with a war cry, but is put down swiftly with a chop to the back of the head.
"Last chance, William."
Clock King shakes his head in disappointment at his henchman. He looks at his opponents and yelps:
"W-well! I was going to say the same to you!"
The two trade blows and Clock King, despite his fragile bravado, is holding his own against the insurmountable odds of the bat. Through the power to see 5 seconds into the future, he predicts Bat’s movements, ducking and dodging, but his opponent is doing the same. Minutes go by and neither man has landed a punch, until a rogue blast hits the Dark Knight in the back.
"How'd you like that, freak?!"
Not realizing the irony of saying that in an all-white skintight suit with multicoloured spots on it, Polka-Dot Man joins the fight.
"Why are you shooting at me?!"
"Get out of the way then, jackass!"
The two costumed criminals are too busy bickering that they take their eyes off the prize, and The Bat pounces. It throws a batarang at Polka-Dot Man who melts it with a blast, but as he was focused on the flying metal object, he missed the flying monster coming towards him. 2 punches on the ground is enough to knock him out cold. Clock King goes to take advantage of the chaos, but his foe slides under his legs, grabs him by the waist, and throws him over his head, crashing to the ground in a heap. Suddenly, the roar of a jetpack is heard.
"OH GOD HEEEEELP!!!!"
Buddy, with all the grace of a deflating balloon is flying all around the night sky. The bat pulls out his grappling hook and connects to the horrified whelp. Cutting the jetpack off, the two go crashing down below, and Buddy closes his eyes, accepting his fate…
…
Nothing. Buddy opens his eyes and he’s not only alive, but lying on top of… The Batman. He’s badly hurt, groaning in pain as Buddy yelps in shock.
“Are-are you okay?”
The Bat looks at him and sits up.
“Never better. Are you injured?”
“No I’m fine.”
“Good, I’m glad. We should go to the station, I know a friend who can-“
*BZZZZZT*
Buddy saw his chance and by god he took it. He jammed his taser right into Batman’s neck, 2000 volts coursing through his body.
He’s out. Still breathing, but unconscious.
“Oh thank heavens you’re alright!”
“What the hell happened?”
Out comes the very man who threw him to his death and a fully recovered Polka-Dot Man, carrying the Maroni’s equipment in their bags. They help up the mighty mustard man as he dusts himself off.
“That… Was terrifying. I seriously thought I was gonna splat.”
“As did I, old chum. Thank god it wasn’t all of us using that jetpack or we’d not be so lucky.”
“Looks like I need to have a “conversation” with our supplier. My bad.”
“Oh come here my dear boy!”
William embraces his fellow King, squeezing him so hard you’d think he was a literal ketchup bottle, hanging on to the hug for a bit too long.
“I mustard-mit, I relished the opportunity to prove myself to you guys.”
Polka-Dot Man kicks Batman’s leg as Clock King, again, belly-laughs at Mayo. He’s still out.
“Not moving. This is BIG, Buddy. We’ve just done what the entire underworld couldn’t.
Mayo smiles. He looks down at Batman, and takes out his condiment guns, and kneels down to him.
“Sorry Bats, thanks for saving me. Maybe we can hash out our differences next time we ketchup huh?”
They say all men are created equal. That no matter who you are, where you come from, you can always strive to get out of your circumstances no matter what, all it takes is a bit of elbow grease. Whoever said that maybe wasn’t as wrong as we thought.
They just used ketchup instead.
“Oh Buddy, you still need a name.”
“That’s right my friend! What do you want to call yourself? Seasonal Sultan? Mustard Man? Oh I know! The Bat-Breaker!
“No, I actually came up with one myself. Henceforth I’ll be known…As Condiment King.”
“WHAT?!”