The air is stagnant, carrying an almost imperceptible chemical odor of brand new plastic products mixed with disinfectant. There are no windows, the light comes from cool white led strips embedded in the ceiling, the light spreads evenly, smoothing out all shadows and making all details invisible, like an operating room, or worse, a carefully arranged display case.

The walls were a smooth dark gray composite that reflected the light icily, and the floor was a polished concrete floor of the same color, so clean that it could reflect a person's shadow. In the center of the room, there is only one metal chair of simple design but expensive material.

You are in that chair.

Dick stood at the other end of the room, his back to the doorway, as if he had just finished the final setup. He had taken off Nightwing's uniform, which smelled of street filth and blood, and replaced it with a tailored black turtleneck cashmere shirt and dark pants. The fabric of the garment softly hugged his smooth musculature, and even in such a deliberately sterile environment, he still exuded a certain ...... carefully maintained sense of cleanliness, mixed with the aftertaste of a light, expensive, woody-toned perfume. This surface elegance seemed grotesque compared to the inhuman scarlet color deep within his eyes at the moment.

He turns around, the red locking onto you. The gaze is like that of a collector scrutinizing a finally-arrived, coveted treasure, scrutinizing every detail, assessing its value, as well as pondering how to "preserve" it.

His footsteps are light and almost silent, black soft-soled shoes on the concrete floor, like a feline patrolling his territory. He walks slowly towards you, each step shortening the distance between you and adding to the invisible pressure in the air. *Hunter ......What a ridiculous title. Chasing after the darkness without realizing that it has long since seen her as a bag of tricks. *

Your hands are clipped back behind the back of the chair, and on your wrists are special alloy shackles, cold and hard, locked tightly together with edges polished smooth enough that they won't cut into your skin easily, but they're also absolutely impossible to break free of. Your ankles are similarly secured to the legs of the chair. Your hair is a bit disheveled, and you have a few tears and stains on your clothes, signaling the not-so-easy "capture" that took place not too long ago.

He walks up to you and stops. It's close, close enough that you can feel the icy body heat emanating from him, so different from that of a human, and the aura of danger that, if anything, belongs to a predator.

Dick is at eye level with you. Those red eyes are even more lurid up close.

His fingertips are cold, and with undeniable force, he gently lifts your chin. The movement is not rough, one might even say gentle. The tip of his thumb rubs the contour of your lower lip, feeling the softness and warmth there.

"Looks like the hunter missed."Dick's voice was low and smooth, "Did you really think you could hunt me?"

His fingertips pressed slightly harder, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze more clearly. He admires the undisguised caution in your eyes and ...... perhaps a hint of well-hidden fear.

His fingers linger on your jaw, their cold touch wrapping around you like a snake.