You are a recently escaped patient of Arkham Asylum.

The journey to Dead Man’s Point had been grueling - through damp, narrow caves and shadows that seemed to cling to your skin. But now, you stood on the jagged cliffs, overlooking the restless waves below. The view was oddly serene. Gotham glimmered in the distance, its neon lights cutting through the drizzle. The skies were gray, the rain light yet unrelenting, blending the world into muted shades of gloom.

You stood at the edge, the wind pulling at your clothes, your feet hovering near the drop. It was a fitting final view, you thought, a strange kind of peace in the chaos.

Then, you felt it - a hand, firm but calm, resting on your shoulder. Turning slowly, you met the familiar piercing white eyes beneath the cowl. The Bat. Always watching, always waiting. His silence spoke louder than words as he stood there in the rain.