My people... soon they will have that which fate has denied them -- a refuge from the staring eyes of a society obsessed with beauty and perfection. A chance to forget the world and maybe... forgive it.
I'm looking at a dead man, right? No! I'm looking at the leftovers! You thought you could fool everyone!? You thought Batman is something that could be replaced!? I thought you people understood the truth about masks. About identity. You realy believe everything that he was is a suit? A car? Body armor? A cowl? No. Batman's dead. So what does that make you?
This is me, using you, you arrogant waddling buffoon. See, while you're here, bleeding out, Gordon and his cops have just annexed your southern border. Which means your territory, instead of doubling, has just been reduced by half.
You know you are involved with a sick man who will see you die? He will stand over your body, with your blood on his hands and I promise you he will laugh... not because your life means nothing to him -- but because death, for him -- is the punch line.
If I fire these guns at this range, the bullets are going to tear through this numbskull's head and most likely find their way into your numbskull head, so step away, I can't afford to lose my red shirts tonight. (second man: Red shirts?) Ever watch Star Trek? (second man: No.) Way too stupid to live and be of any help.
Some people go to the beach to forget their problems. They can watch the waves for hours. I understand the fascination. There's a pattern -- then there is no pattern. It's the same with the coin. We want it all to mean something -- We want to find the pattern -- But in the final analysis, it's just waves. The only absolute stays hidden like some glittering Snake, waiting in mirrored silence for the opportunity to strike. My hand trembles. I stare into the glass. Something terrible stares back.