He’s coldhearted and joyful,
Depressed and full of life,
Tired and lazy yet,
Ever watchful and vigilant,
Pained by some unknown force,
Devoted to his cause never giving in,
Forced into servitude and loving his job,
Calm still as a quiet night,
He stalks his prey with a disturbing intensity,
The scum of the city endangered by his presence,
He strikes quickly and precisely never missing his target,
Burdened by the screams of the innocent,
He never stops working,
Consumed by guilt and hate,
He installs his fear into others and cripples their minds,
Hiding behind a sack of flesh and bones,
He comes out at night to wreak his horror upon those who do wrong.