When Victor Zsasz's parents died they left him rich, he could have anything he wanted, but all he wanted was them back. He grew severly depressed and took to gambling. One dark night at the Iceberg Lounge he had found himself at the owners table. He lost all of his money to the Penguin and was thrown out on the street pennyless. He started thinking that life was just a disease that was rotting the world. He went to a bridge to kill himself, but a homeless man tried to mug him with a knife. Zsasz saw the desperation in his eyes, a look that was familier. Zsasz instintivly grabbed the knife and slit the mans throat. Not Knowing what to do next he plunged the knife deep into his forearm and put a small tally. He thinks of himself as a savior by "curing people of life". He is constantling defeated by Batman and sent to Arkham Asylum, only to escape and go on a bloody killing spree. Every time he kills someone he puts another tally mark.
Battle vs. Hannibal Lecter (Movieverse) (by GothamCityRiddler)Edit
The men inside the armored truck bounced about as the man in the mask, tied up in a straight jacket, grimaced (though the expression was lost behind the plating over his face). The radio crackled to life as the driver’s voice dispersed through the air.
“Now entering Gotham City”
The man in the jacket rolled his head back against the trolley he was fastened to.
The guards, armed with a shotgun sitting next to them on benches were facing each-other engaged in a game of cards. Mr. Lecter knew their vulnerability, he knew everything about them. He also knew a third thing: The trolley wasn’t fastened correctly.
In a burt of life, Hannibal shot from the trolley, the straps holding him down clicked apart. Landing on one knee, the other one horizontal to the ground, he pulled with extraordinary strength and the latches on his straight jacket ripped, freeing Mr. Lecter’s arms.
Quickly, he swung a kick into the first guard’s face, a satisfying crack ringing out telling Hannibal that the guard’s nose was snapped. He took a lung for the shot gun at the time the second guard fired his. Quarter sized dents appeared above Hannibal’s head as Hannibal swung the butt of the gun as the guard, blood spraying against the metal wall.
Hannibal stomped his boot on the radio as he raised the shotgun to the door’s lock and fired, a hole smashing through the back door’s lock, revealing Hannibal to the squad car behind the armored truck.
He reached for the baton dangling from the belt of the dead cop, and pulled it out and unleashed a devilish grin on the police car behind him.
Dodging bullets coming from the passenger policeman, Hannibal pulled himself to the roof of the armored vehicle and disappeared from the cop’s limited view. The squad car pulled up beside him and he gazed down, as the policeman fired 3 more rounds at the roof of the truck. Hannibal counted to three and leaped, crushing into the trunk of the police car.
In a shocked panic, the police man whipped around as Hannibal fired a round into the rear window, cracking it, followed by Hannibal kicking in the window and lunging into the car, lashing out on the passenger policeman, beating him until blood sponged into the seat.
In one quick and fluid swing, Hannibal took out the car’s driver who was firing rounds at Mr. Lecter while radioing the rest of the squad to pull over. The driver’s head cracked against the window and the steering wheel twisted, crashing through the highway’s railing and rolling the car down a hill, coming to a satisfying creak as the rest of the cops followed.
The cops ripped open the door to reveal two dead men, their heads both brutally cracked, and no Hannibal Lecter.
The armored truck pulled up quickly and the driver stepped out and observed the back of the truck, the door broken open and the straight jacket lying torn on the floor.
With a quick thud the driver collapsed on the ground as Lecter threw the blood splattered butt of the shotgun down onto the body, bending down to retrieve the keys.
From around the corner of the van, an armed officer approached, loaded gun straight and aimed. Hannibal cracked a smile and lunged for the officer’s legs, the police man on the ground now in a headlock with a key blade pressed up against his neck.
Dragging the hostage out into view of the other policeman, with all their guns pointed at the tossed vehicle. Slowly, Lecter approached the truck’s door, hesitant to not attract the attention of the officers.
With a squeal, the hostage ripped his vocal cords with a powerful scream to attract the policemen’s attention. Swiftly Hannibal dragged the key across the victim’s neck, blood pouring out of the wound as if it was a second mouth.
Hannibal ducked into the truck’s driver seat and thrusted the soaked key into the keyhole, smashing his foot down into the idle gas pedal. Pulling back up onto the highway, Lecter drove away with a parade of squad cars behind him and a gliding man above him.
“Ah.” Lecter cackled. “It appears I have awakened the bat.”
Zsasz perched atop an empty warehouse a part of Jim’s Scrap Metal Co., gazing down upon a warehouse just across the street, where the Batman had broken in to just moments before. Zsasz kept an eager eye open to see the fight unfurl. Zsasz knew Batman wasn’t after him, he knew who he was after- and Zsasz knew one more thing: That he was going to surprise the Bat.
The fishing industry was big in Gotham, they’d reel in millions of dollars a week in fish, now the warehouse in front of him was reminiscent of that.
In the light provided from inside, Zsasz watched the shadows of Batman and the man he knew as Hannibal go toe-to-toe.
Clearly Batman was superior. Nobody was superior to Batman. Nobody. But the more that Zsasz watched, the more he found an opponent in Hannibal as he watched the shadows dance the ballad of a beautiful fight unfurl- one that ended with the Bat losing.
Zsasz watched in horror as Batman was beaten to the ground by a chunk of plywood. There was no blood, no, it appeared almost as if Mr. Lecter didn’t want to kill him. At least not yet.
He took this as a chance to come to a conclusion of years of hard work. He was about to kill Batman.
Sure, it wasn’t the theatrical fight he would have hoped for, but it was still killing Batman, and it was still adding just one more slice into his flesh. Looking down at his tallied flesh, Zsasz knew it was worth it.
He swaggered into the room, twirling his throwing knives around his fingers, their reflection bouncing the artificial light across Batman’s restrained and unconscious body lying against a large metal fish chopping board. In the corner was Mr. Lecter, chopping a variety of vegetables with a rather large butcher knife.
Without turning he responded to Zsasz’s entrance. “There you are Mr. Zsasz, wonderful of you to join us for dinner.”
Zsasz continued walking silently. “You know, most people can’t make it to my dinner parties. They’re either ‘sick’ or ‘out of town’. But I make sure they get a chance to be at my dinner table, I always do.”
Hannibal turned his head smirking at Zsasz, “I’m assuming you’re here to kill your little friend?” Hannibal directed his knife towards Batman. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that. You see, I have a very special way of preparing my food and I don’t want other people’s fingers doing it all wrong.” I’m sure you can understand.
The scars on Zsasz’s face pulled closer to his nose as he narrowed his view.
Hannibal stopped his chopping and turned to face two throwing knifes hurdling towards his face; both missing but at least a foot.
Hannibal retrieved one of the throwing knifes from the ground and tossed it gentle back at Zsasz. “Try again.”
Zsasz crouched down and spun in circles, each revolution delivering one of three throwing knifes. He lunged quickly and withdrew a hunting knife, hammering it down at the body of Batman.
Hannibal kicked the wheeled platform which stationed Batman towards Zsasz, flipping him over the body, as he landed in a low crouch, his rage even more obvious.
He withdrew his second hunting knife and ran towards Hannibal.
The Doctor stepped aside and Zsasz continued, kicking off of a shelf flipping over Hannibal and dragging his knives both down with him, only one making noticeable contact with Hannibal’s body, leaving a scratch down Lecter’s chest.
Hannibal responded by delivering a kick to Zsasz’s face as the scarred man fell next to the body of Batman.
Using the one knife still in his hand, Zsasz jabbed at the body, the knife made a clang as it contacted with one of the only parts not occupied by the body.
He turned to face Hannibal who was now swinging his butcher’s knife at Zsasz’s arm, still holding on the the knife stuck in the metal platform.
Letting go and rolling away, Zsasz found one of his throwing knives and his hunting knife on the ground. Jumping from the ground, Zsasz delivered a blow into Hannibal’s back, getting caught before contact was made by the firm grip of Hannibal.
Zsasz’s arm was twisted violently and a snap broke out as a bone in his wrist popped out of place. Holding back a yell, Zsasz chuckled as tears dropped down his face.
He turned, viewing Batman, and the tears stopped. Zsasz grabbed the piece of wood used to beat Batman, and delivered a blow to Hannibal’s face. Hannibal spun as Zsasz stood, swinging the wood at Hannibal again, this time it was met with Hannibal’s knife, splitting the wood.
Popping his wrist back into place, Zsasz ducked down and picked both of his knives up, and starting releasing a storm of swings at Hannibal, clipping has nose, cheek, and ear.
Dropping, Lecter swung a leg at Zsasz’s and a snap echoed the room as his leg broke, dropping him to the ground. Hannibal fell onto of Zsasz, stabbing his knife into his back as he was thrown the the ground as Zsasz stood back up, once again refueled with rage.
Hannibal grabbed his sickle from the table and swung multiple times as Zsasz, the fiery man dodging each attack. With a kick of the leg, Hannibal was thrown away from Zsasz as Zsasz flung his remaining two knives at Hannibal, one bouncing off the ground and dropping onto Hannibal’s chest.
Lecter stood and wiped the blood coming from his nose as he tossed the throwing knife between his hands, viewing Victor as he smashed the glass window and broke a five inch shard from the damage.
The two men’s view tightened, Hannibal’s on Zsasz, Zsasz’s on Batman.
Zsasz darted forward at advanced human speed as the two men collided, Zsasz’s glass shard entering Hannibal, the older man grunted and drew a weak breath, chocking in the air as he held back a smile. He released Zsasz from his grasp, the body laying on the floor with his own throwing knife in his abdomen.
Hannibal pulled the glass shard from the threading in his newly purchased motorcycle jacket, dropping it onto the floor as he approached Batman.
“Wake up, Batman.” He slapped his masked face, “We must get ready for dinner.”
Winner: Hannibal Lecter