You're mistaken, Batman. It's now just ending. It was foolish of you to think I wouldn't be listening when you made that dispatch call earlier. I wondered how long you'd stay silent. I commend you on your restraint. But in the end, you couldn't help yourself. One of your many disorders. It's fascinating that one heroic action will also be your undoing.

Hasn't he already committed the legal definition of assault, many times over? Such obsessive-compulsive behavior is utterly disconnected with the rest of reality. He's not concerned with how the rest of the world thinks or feels. All that matters to this "Bat-Man" is his own perverse and relentless version of justice. And he will stop at nothing to achieve those ends!

You feel each blow to the city as a blow to your own body. And you wonder when you, too, might fall. But that, Ms. Waller, is merely an illusion, a rather nifty trick of the mind. It is how the people of this city accept what they cannot accept. Indeed, what they should not accept. It lullabies them into complicity. Teaches them to ignore the horrors. To embrace the horrors. To become the horrors. It is our goal, then, to eliminate this illusion. To free the people from the psychosis of the city. They will not riot! They will resist! They will not panic! They will persevere! Villains will surrender. Heroes will triumph. And with my coaxing and Roger's gifts... they will finally separate the life of the mind from the rot of the city. And they will declare... I am not Gotham. I am better than Gotham.