My muses are annoying.  They like to do things like wait until I’m sleeping, then prod me:
“Hey!  Hey!  We know you want to go to sleep, but we just came up with this neat idea!”
“Freakin” Muses!  What?!”
“What if Batman and Punisher suddenly ended up switching places through some crazy cross continuum magic spell or something?  You know, Harley Quinn and Joker got a little too freaky robbing some gypsy shop and ended up cursed Angelus style.”

 “Um, how many universes would that ro…”
“Just bear with me.  Watch this shit…”
[Providence Hospital, New York City]
“Whatcha got for me, detective?”
*sound of life support machines*
“Chief, you won’t believe this shit.  So the Five Families were having a meeting down at Luigi’s over on 42nd.  We heard about it, but every time we tried to get a bug in there either we’d end up with a statement of charges or our “bug” man ended up with a belly full of cockroaches down at the morgue…”
“Get to the point.”
*loudspeaker*  “Code Blue, Code Blue Room 121 ICU!”
“Shit.  That’s Don Martel’s room.  Don’t look like he’s going to make it, being shot twenty times and all.”
“Who did this?  The Punisher?!”
“Weirdest thing, Chief.  Only person talking is some guy in the wait staff.  Said they had just sat down for the canoli when some ninja fucker drops down from the ceiling onto the table.  Anyway, total bedlam for about ten minutes, as everyone starts screaming ‘Punisher’ this and ‘Executioner’ that…and we’s all know they’re the same person, right?”
“The damn point Murphy!”
“Anywho, apparently Don Martel stops everyone and they look at this cat standing on the table.  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Don Martel asks, and next thing you know this guy is growling, ‘I’m Batman.'”
“I’m who?”
“Yeah, that’s what Don Martel said.  That’s when the freakin’ boomerangs started flyin’ and the smoke bombs started going off.  Anyway, long story short, near as forensics can tell this cat didn’t use a single gun himself.  Everyone who is shot got done by someone else’s bodyguard, which means tomorrow’s probably going to be really interesting for the Vice Squad.  Best we can tell, this ‘Batman’ beat the living shit out of the other four Dons, the Maitre ‘D, and some hero wannabe down in the washroom.  Didn’t kill anybody though…almost as if he didn’t want to.”
**scene cuts to a Gotham penthouse**
[Sound of glass being broken up, footsteps across a hardwood floor]
“What the…”
“Whoa, stop right there Commissioner.  You don’t want to go any further.  I’ve already got Ms. Quinn’s dying confession on the digital recorder, no point on you coming in.”
“Dying confession?!  Oh sweet Jesus, what is that smell?!”
*Commissioner Gordon gags*
“Near as we can tell, that’s what happens when twenty layers of clown paint and a purple suit that hasn’t been washed in a year gets hit with white phosphorus.”
“White phosphorus?!  Has Batman lost his mind?!”
“That’s why I called you boss.  According to Ms. Quinn, it was not Batman.  I quote, ‘Some big bastard with a skull on his chest and a gun bigger than Joker’s…’, end quote.”
“Skull on his chest?”
“Yeah, and her version of events is backed up by the security cameras.  Kicked the door in and shot Mr. Dent dead square between the eyes over there in the corner.  The Penguin was getting a beer out of the fridge–he’s over there with a trench knife stuck in his throat.  Apparently the Joker tried to pull a gun and got shot in both kneecaps, then had the white phosphorus grenade dropped in his crotch.  About that time it appears the Riddler tried to do his thing and got garroted for his trouble.  Ms. Quinn thought it’d be a good idea to grab her usual hammer and…well, that which has been seen cannot be unseen, so I suggest you stay out here.”
“My God, what did he do to her?”
“Let’s just say when she said, ‘Wait!  Wait! Vigilantes don’t kill people in Gotham!’ his response was, ‘I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to PUNISH you.  The loss of blood, on the other hand…'”
“I want everyone looking for this crazy bastard…”
“Oh, no you don’t.  He Skyped Bane, told him to meet him at Arkham Asylum in about five min…”
*low rumble of explosions is heard from direction of Arkham Asylum*
“So, anyway, I told SWAT to just hold everyone about ten block south and let those guys settle their differences alone.  Or with the League of Shadows, depending on whether Ra’s al Ghul got Poison Ivy’s text.”
“Poison Ivy’s text?”
“Don’t ask.  Let’s just say you don’t want to know what Roundup and thermite smell like when mixed together.  Or what a scarecrow looks like nailgunned to the Gotham River Bridge.”
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