Rogues Gallery #3 - ZSASZ & CORINTHIAN

Gotham City Friday, 2 am.

In Arkham Asylum, the guards had a way of passing the time at this hour. Nothing too fancy, just a little bit of poker really. Murray, the senior officer on duty that night was up $30 and was pushing all in. The junior officer, Fitzpatrick nervously checked his hand, pocket tens. He called, and waited as Murray flipped the first three cards, a ten, a queen, and a
jack. The next two cards came up, an ace, and a three. Fitzpatrick reached over the pot, thinking he won; Murray quickly grabbed his wrist and smiled as he revealed his two kings.

“Sorry kid, Royal Flush. Better luck next time huh?”

Fitz grunted at his bad luck. “Whatever, just keep dealing the cards,” the two were so focused on their game, neither noticed as a peculiar man strolled up to the front desk. He was 6 feet tall, and weighed around 170 pounds or so. Wearing all black and thick black sunglasses with slicked back hair, he waited as the two guards continued their game.

“Excuse me; I'm here to visit a former student. Could you tell me which room he's in?”

The two guards jumped as they heard his voice. A calm, quiet
tone of voice. But something behind it, an almost sinister undertone was there. Murray jumped up and reached for his sidearm.

“How did you get in here!? The Doors are locked after seven!”

Still reaching for his pistol, things seemed to slow down for Fitz as the mysterious man pulled a large hunting knife out of his back pocket. Blood sprayed across his face as the strange man slashed his partner's throat. He tried to reach
for the alarm, when the same knife pierced the back of his hand, and pinned it into the desk. He screamed in agony as he looked up at the strange man.

“Now as I was saying, I'm looking for a former student of mine. His name is Victor Zsaz. Which room is he in?” He casually asked as Fitz's blood slowly covered the desk, the cards, and the money.

The younger guard looked at him in a mixture of blind terror, and confusion.

“What?” Was all he could ask.

“Let’s not play this game alright? I'm looking for Victor Zsaz, I know he's in here. I just don't have the time to go traipsing about these halls trying to find him. So how about if you just tell me where he is?” The man asked once again.

All Fitz could do was look up at the man. After what had just happened, he slipped into a state of shock. Completely oblivious to the question just asked him. The man waited a few moments, then let out a sigh. It was clear that this was a waste of time talking to him.

Reaching for the knife still in the guard’s hand, he gripped it tightly and pulled it from Fitz's hand. Then, with amazing speed he reached over and slashed his throat, just as quickly as he had done to Murray.

The man hopped over the desk, and looked at a computer monitor resting on top the desk. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he pondered how this box worked. At this point he regretted
killing both of the guards, and wondered if this trip had been a waste. That is, until he heard the footsteps coming his way.

Gripping the blade, he looked out towards the oncoming figure, that's when he realized something. The person was in a bright orange jumpsuit; he wasn't another security guard, but an inmate.

The man kept to the darkness, concealing his face, but a stream of moonlight revealed a row of glistening white teeth locked in
a grin.

“Hello, hello what can I do for you this fine evening?” The figure asked, still grinning.

The man clad in black tilted his head to the side in confusion. Then he realized who it was and grinned right back at the man.

“I'm looking for a... friend of mine. Perhaps you know where I can find him?” He asked. The figure in the shadows chuckled.

“I could, but what do I get in return?” He asked.

“What if I told you a joke?” The man in black asked. The figure clapped his hands together excitedly.

“I love jokes! If it's good, I'll help ya. But! If it's bad, I'll have ta kill you!” The figure warned.

“I'm not worried, it's a really good joke,” He promised.

“Well in that case, let's hear it!” He replied, his excitement growing.

“A psychiatrist is just finishing up at his work right? And he's all excited about the fact that he's going to the opera tonight. Right when he's about to exit, a man enters. There's nothing extraordinary about this man mind you, he's an average height, average weight, and a thin hairline.

The doc asks, ‘What can I do for you?’ To which the man replies, ‘Doctor, I feel my life is meaningless. I hate my job, and question why all the evil in the world happens. I just wish I could find a meaning to it all. Do you understand?’ He asked.

Now, the doctor paused for a second. Then it hit him! The doctor replied, ‘you just need a break from it all. In fact, I was
about to go to the opera. Pagliacci the clown is performing, and I guarantee that he will take your mind off of your troubles! I've seen him twice before, and it just so happens I have an extra ticket! What do you say?’ Asked the doctor.

At which point the man looks up, about ready to cry and says; But doctor! I AM PAGLIACCI!” The man clad in black told him.

For a moment, the figure in the shadows remained immobile; until he slowly stepped out of the darkness to reveal his chalk white skin, and green hair.

When he spoke, he no longer had the giddy tone of voice, nor did he have his smile anymore.

“How do you know that joke?” The clown asked. “I... I thought I was the only one who knew it!”

“Silly clown, I'm the one who told it to you,” The man laughed.

“I... I'll show you where he is. It's on the way to my room anyway,” The Joker whispered.

The man in black nodded as the clown led him to the
elevators. The two rode in silence, Joker looking at this strange man in sheer amazement. So stunned, he couldn't even speak to him. Finally, the man in black broke the silence as the elevator continued toward its destined floor.

“So were you trying to escape or something?” He asked. The Joker looked at him for a moment, before shaking his head.

“No, I was just taking a walk. I wasn't going break out this month.”


The bell rang, signifying they had reached the appropriate floor. As the doors opened, The Joker led the strange man down the hallway. Casually, the stranger looked to each cell, and smiled as the eyes coiled away from him.

They all knew who he was, they dreamed of him often. Finally, they reached a specific door, and The Joker spoke. “This is Vic's room, mines just down the hall... Um, could you not visit me anymore?” He asked.

The stranger gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “Sorry, I don't get to decide things like that,” He told him.

“Oh, well, I'll see you when I go to sleep then. Bye Corinthian,” The Joker said as he walked off to his room.

Casually, Corinthian opened the door to the cell. There was a glass divider between the door, and the inmate. Victor Zsaz looked up at the stranger in black, and waited expectantly.

“Hello Victor, I take it you know who I am?” Corinthian asked.

“You’re... not a zombie,” he whispered. The man in black chuckled.

“Of all my students, I think you learned the most valuable lesson. But I'm curious, how would you like to meet my other disciples?” He asked.

“I think I've met them already,” He replied.

“Not these ones, these are more like you. Their having a convention you see, and I know that they would love to meet you,” Corinthian explained.

“Like me?” Zsaz asked.

“Not quite, I've never seen someone quite like you to be honest. But the others, they do resemble you in many ways. I think that you could learn from them, and vice versa,” He explained.

“You'll let me out of this cage?” Zsaz asked.

“Well we certainly can’t have a convention here, now can we?” Corinthian replied.

“Not without taking away the other hunters no,” Zsaz agreed.

Zsaz looked into the eyes of this strange man, only to see his reflection in the thick, dark sunglasses. Corinthian smiled a disarming smile at Victor.

“Well then, ready to meet some of your people?”

“If they are like me,” Zsaz replied.

“…And if their not?”

“Then their zombies,” Zsaz answered in a grim tone...

Elsewhere

A middle aged man paced about the convention hall nervously. His hairline was slowly wearing away, and he had thick glasses. He turned to a much larger man in a T-shirt and shorts.

“Fun Land, have any of the other guests arrived yet?” He asked.

“Uh, The Doctor checked in, and the other's are all in there rooms Mr. Nimrod,” The fat man named Fun Land answered.

“That brings us up to what, ten people correct?” Nimrod asked.

“Uh, ten right,” Fun Land nodded. Just as he said this, four men entered.

All dressed quite differently from one another, one an African American in a black parka and jeans, a man in a light brown suit and cowboy hat, a large woman with a crew cut, and wore baggy jeans, and a thick leather jacket. The final person was a small man, wearing very thick glasses, with scraggly hair and old, dirty clothes. Nimrod grinned as he approached the quartet and
greeted them warmly.

“Welcome fellow collectors, I am Mr Nimrod, the organizer of this
convention, and that man is Fun Land. If you wouldn't mind, please register with him, and he will give you your room keys,”

“The names The Silencer,” The black man in the parka said.

“Nice to meet ya, your room is B21, and the first group seminar is gonna be given by Mr Nimrod, and The Doctor,” Fun Land said.

“My names The Grass Widow,” The Large Woman said.

“I'm El Dorado,” The Man in the cowboy hat said with a nod.

“Um, I'm, I mean my name is The Bogeyman,” The timid little man in the glasses said.

“87!”. Fun Land cried excitedly.

“Excuse me?” The Bogeyman asked.

El Dorado turned to him, and asked curiously. “Aren't you the guy that does the thing with the numbers?”

“Oh right, I'm sorry. 87, well there was a young woman, beautiful beyond imagination, and she was like, hello. That's when I collected her,” The Bogeyman said.

“I see, that’s... interesting, so tell me, how long have you been collecting Mr Bogeyman?” Mr Nimrod asked.

“What? Oh, well, I first started when, uhm,” Bogeyman was cut off as El Dorado let out a gasp.

“It's, it's him! I don't freaking believe it! How did you get HIM to come!?” He pointed at the two men that just entered. The one in white didn't interest El Dorado, but the man in the red blazer excited him greatly.

“Hey Mr Nimrod, I hope you don't mind, but I brought along a friend,” Corinthian stated.

“Well, I'm not sure if I should allow that but...” Mr Nimrod stopped in mid speech when he recognized him. His knees started to shake, and his eyes widened in amazement. “It's you! The Predator!” Mr Nimrod cried.

“Heh, I remember when they first started calling me that. It's funny, I've been put away for so long I don't even know who to expect to come here,” Mr Zsaz said.

“Well, there's been so many captured now that those vigilantes started coming out of the woodwork I understand what you mean. I was kind of disappointed to learn that the clown and Murmur wouldn't be coming. But, there are some you may recognize, have you heard of The Doctor? He's been around for quite a while,” Mr Nimrod stammered.

“It's not important, I'll meet everyone soon enough wont I?” Zsaz asked.

“Oh, of course. Um, there is a slight problem however, you weren't, I mean you weren't on the list and I'm not sure if we have a room for you,” Mr Nimrod said nervously.

“Thats fine, he can bunk with me,” Corinthian grinned.

Room A15

Zsaz sat down on the bed, removing his jacket, and shirt. Revealing the many scars he had given himself in his time as a collector.

Corinthian looked at them, and asked,“So, what's with the marks?”

“At first, at first it was penance. When I didn't know I was doing the right thing, I had to punish myself. But, when I realized the truth, that's when I knew it wasn't out of guilt or remorse that I scarred myself. No, it was because for every zombie I eliminated, I was one step closer to becoming... alive,” Mr Zsaz explained.

“You kill to live?” Corinthian asked. Zsaz remained silent, but nodded his head.

“That's cool, I always liked you Victor. You've got something, I don't know what it is, but you got it man,” Corinthian smiled.

“I see, um, don't take this the wrong way but I don't know if I'm
comfortable sharing a room with you...” Zsaz said slowly.

“Why? Afraid I'm gonna kill you in your sleep?” Corinthian laughed.

“No, I know what you do to me when I'm asleep. I don't think the other's realize what you are though,” Zsaz replied.

“Trippy, it's usually magic folk that see me for what I am. But you and that clown from Arkham both knew what I was pretty quickly,” Corinthian said thoughtfully.

“People in Arkham tend to have a unique insight on things,” Zsaz shrugged.

“Fair enough, I'm curious though, what are you doing after the convention?” Corinthian asked.

“Return to Gotham I suppose,” Zsaz shrugged. There was a knock at the door.

Corinthian raised an eyebrow, and opened it. In stepped a large man, in his mid forties wearing a nice suit.

“Hello, I'm The Doctor and I... Wow, it really is The Predator. Sorry, but the first group session is starting and I hope the two of you don't miss it,” The Doctor told the pair.

“Shall we be off then?” Corinthian asked.

Later[/b]

The large man that went by Fun Land entered the lobby of the motel. He held a piece of paper in his hand, and glancing at it occasionally, he would pause, trying to understand what the note meant. For a moment, he simply stood there in confusion, until the owner of the motel called him over to the desk.

“Can I help you son?” He asked.

Fun Land turned, and read the note one more time before approaching.

“Uh, this note says for me to take my medicine every four hours, but I don't have my medicine. I'm trying to find it though,” Fun Land stated. The owner tilted his hat, and grinned.

“I know where your medicine is, come with me,” Fun Land nodded and was lead into the back room...

Convention Hall

It had happened suddenly. Zsaz was watching the movie Psycho, with the rest of the convention goers, far off in the back. Two people sat beside him, and he had already slid his knife between each of their ribs. Not a single one of them noticed as two of their own died just a few feet behind them.

Victor grinned at their stupidity as he made two more notches in his flesh.

He counted how many were there, forty. It was going to be a busy next
couple of days. Moving his eyes amongst the crowd, he wondered who he would strike next when the doors had been kicked open. A man, who could only be described as a modern day cowboy burst in with an automatic weapon and opened fire. Many of the alleged masters of murder had screamed in terror.

Zsaz scoffed at them screaming in fear. They were afraid to die? Swiftly, he dove behind the bar for cover. The roar of machine gun fire drowned out the screams. Zsaz knew he recognized the cowboy, but from where?

“The owner!” Zsaz laughed. He realized it then, this was an excellent
hunting ground. Miles away from anywhere, but still leading to major
cities. Days in between though, someone looking to stay the night before going back on the road, would be a perfect target. He grinned, he didn't think he'd find someone like him here. But sure enough, he had.

He waited until the screams were gone, and the gun fire had ended. Then, he heard footsteps coming toward him, or was it toward the bar?

He gripped his knife and debated making an attack.

“I know your back there boy, so why don't you just come on out?” The cowboy asked.

Zsaz slowly rose to his feet, and examined the carnage this man had
just caused. He noticed the machine gun lay on the floor, Zsaz realized it had run out of ammunition. His eyes went to the knife in the mans hand, he knew what was to come.

“My name is Victor Zsaz. All of these men, they were serial killers.
Similar to myself, but they failed to realize something important about the art of killing,” He stated. The man remained silent for a second, then burst out laughing.

“Well I'll be! Heh, who'da thought that little ole me would kill so many killers!” The man laughed. His features darkened as quickly as he had begun to laugh. “Tell me killer, what didn't they realize about the game?”

And just like that, Zsaz knew this man wasn't like him. Game? He calls this existence a game!?

He tightened his grip on the blade, first he brought it up to his chest, and sliced the fabric of his shirt. It fell to the ground, revealing the hundreds of marks on his skin.

“It's not a game you fool, it's not a way to alleviate your anger, or your deep seated emotional problems, or whatever any of these fools think they were accomplishing. It's putting an end to the charade, the lie that everyone lives. Even you!” Zsaz screamed as he lunged forward, leading with the knife. His opponent jumped back, and slashed a clean cut along Zsaz's cheek, he grinned.


“First blood,” He stated.

Zsaz wiped the blood away, and licked it from his hand.

“That will be your tally,” Zsaz promised him. The man charged in, only for Zsaz to step to the side, and kick the man in the knee. He buckled over, and in an instant Zsaz was on him, burying the blade into his back. Just as he rose to his feet, he noticed the three had returned.

Corinthian lit a cigarette, “I suppose the ‘no smoking rule’ is no longer in affect?”

“What happened!?” Screamed Nimrod.

“They met a real killer, then he met me!” Zsaz screamed, lunging at
Nimrod...