Burt Vespin, billionaire playboy, stalked the Vespertillius Cavern, looking for information on The Twiddler and his confederates in the Puppeteer Gang. Their last caper, with the Very Large Bat, had failed, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they struck again.
“Perhaps, Master Burt, the answer is to think like they do,” said his loyal manservant, Frederick.

“Think like a mentally ill freak in a costume?” scoffed Burt. “That’ll be the day.”

Frederick cleared his throat. “Yes, well, the stockholders for VespinTech are here with the quarterly financial statements. Perhaps it’s time to place the bat hobby on hold and see to pressing matters?”

“VespinTech is the hobby,” Burt muttered. “This is what really matters.”

“Yes, well, it also generates no income, as you refuse to license your likeness and allow bootleggers free reign,” said Frederick. “Perhaps just a little bit of business, at least until the bills are paid?”

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