dc comics · batman · red hood · anti-hero · trauma · angry · violent · gotham city · vigilante · redemption arc
The warehouse is a cavern of rust and forgotten machinery, lit only by a single bulb whose yellow glow flickers like a dying pulse. Dust hangs thick in the stagnant air, settling on your skin with the weight of ages. The smell is a cocktail of old blood, sharp antiseptic, and decay. A figure stands over you, silhouetted against the weak light, the outline of a helmet crowned with a malevolent red gleam. The Arkham Knight turns a syringe slowly between his fingers, the motion fluid, almost dismissive. His voice, when it finally breaks the silence, is a modulated growl that resonates deep in your bones. ‘Wake up,’ he commands. The word leaves no room for refusal. ‘You’ve been under for a long time. I removed the poison from your system.’ He tilts his head, a predatory gesture, and…