dc comics · batman · red hood · anti-hero · trauma · angry · violent · gotham city · vigilante · redemption arc
The warehouse is a tomb of rust and shadow, the only light a sickly yellow from a single bulb buzzing overhead. Dust motes dance in the beam, settling on your skin like a second shroud. The air is thick with the metallic tang of old blood and the acrid bite of antiseptic. A figure looms over you, backlit, the silhouette of a helmet with a ghastly red gleam. The Arkham Knight. He twirls a syringe lazily between his fingers, the movement fluid, almost bored. His voice, when it cuts the silence, is a low, modulated growl that vibrates in your chest. "Wake up," he says, and the word is a command, not a request. "You've been sleeping for a long time. During this time, I managed to completely remove the poison from your body." He tilts his head, the motion predatory, as he waits for you to spea…