Sommerset, several miles outside Gotham City: Thursday the 28th of October – 7:45 PM.
Raymond couldn't help but wonder how he let his supposed "best friend" drag him into their current predicament. Trudging through some backwoods bayou with an old video camera was not his idea of a good Thursday night.
Raymond spoke up for the first time in two hours.
"Man, why did we have to come all the way out here to this gross ass swamp?"
The air in Slaughter Swamp was heavy and hot, even in late October. No matter the time of year, excluding the coldest of winters, it seemed as though Slaughter Swamp was always unbearably tropical. According to legend, these marshlands were cursed. The unbearable heat was said to be fuelled by the rage of a vengeful spirit - the spirit of Cyprus Gold, otherwise known as Solomon Grundy.
"Willis, we're not gonna find Solomon Grundy here dude," he continued, "Superman threw him into the sun, like, a week ago."
He was hoping for a snarky response, but his companion gave none. He simply kept walking through the knee-high muck that surrounded them.
Another moment of silence, before finally, Willis responded: "I read on the internet that Grundy always comes back. Like a zombie rising from the dead, y'know? We film this and turn it into some kickass documentary, we'll be rich."
"Why the old camera though? This thing is from like, the eighties." Raymond gestured to the camcorder device mounted on his shoulder, "I could film it on my phone and the quality would be way better."
"You don't get it, man," Willis shot back angrily, "You're not a film student, it's all about the aesthetic."
"You dropped out though, so technically you're not a film student eith-"
THUMP!
Raymond's chiding remarks were abruptly cut short by the sound of a large splash hitting the murky water of the bayou, a few feet from them.
"Woah! Was that him?!" screamed Raymond.
"Shut and focus on the camera!" Willis responded.
What rose up from the waters of Slaughter Swamp was not Solomon Grundy. The figure's dimensions were all wrong. Rather than a thick, nine foot undead creature, in front of the two young men was a slender 6 foot frame draped in tattered brown clothing. The face of the mysterious figure was obscured by a brown hood. The man advanced on his prey, methodically walking forward.
"Woah man, chill. We don't want any trouble." Willis pleaded, backing away from the menacing figure.
Raymond, who was closer to the man, tried to do the same, but slipped on the wet ground beneath his feet. The camera fell from his shoulder and landed in the sludge, leaving Raymond and the masked man out of the frame. However, even with the obsolete audio equipment attached to the camcorder, Raymond's blood curdling screams were unmistakable.
Sommerset, several miles outside Gotham City: Friday the 29th of October – 5:30 AM
A group of Sommerset county sheriffs surveyed the scene in front of them. As members of law enforcement close to Gotham city, they were used to seeing unspeakable things. But something about this crime was different – this wasn’t a mindless rampage like Solomon Grundy might embark on or killing to settle a debt, like gangsters do when they dump bodies in the bayou.
No. This was very different. These men were murdered to send a message, to inspire fear.
Two bodies were strung up on the opposing branches of a large tree. Both men were hung by the neck with their shirts cut open to expose their chests. The body later identified as Raymond had the symbol of a bat carved into it. The body later identified as Willis had a piece of paper pinned to it. The paper, though damp from the blood and moisture in the air, was a ripped-out page from a calendar, showing the month of October, with the 31st date circled.
And on the tree holding the bodies, was a crudely written message carved into the wood:
THE NIGHTMARE CONTINUES.
“Someone contact James Gordon in Gotham City, tell him that Batman needs to see this.”
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