Tell us what CDs you would like and we’ll find them for you on Hastings. Prices vary.

Christian Bale storms into Hasting Music, storm clouds in his eyes. He slams a handful of scratched CDs onto the counter like they’re evidence of a crime. “Do you have any idea what this is?” he growls, voice low and sharp. “These aren’t just discs. These… these are memories, missions, legacies! And now—they’re ruined!”

The clerk, trembling, stammers, “Uh… we can try to repair them, sir.”

“Try?” Bale’s nostrils flare. “Try?! I don’t want try, Hasting Music! I want results! I’ve fought Terminators, I’ve battled Gotham’s worst, I’ve saved the future—and you expect me to accept scratches on these discs?!”

He leans in so close the clerk can see the intensity in his eyes. “I am not Patrick Bateman. I am Batman! I am John Connor! And I will not be denied… even by a few scratches on a CD!”

Hasting Music’s employee swallows hard. “R-right, sir. We’ll fix them… immediately.”

Bale snatches the CDs back, muttering under his breath, “No scratches… no compromises… only perfection.”