In the heart of Gotham City, the night was oppressive, the air thick with the stench of decay and despair. The narrow alleyway, cloaked in shadow, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, the dim streetlights doing little to penetrate the darkness. The scurrying of rats and the distant wail of a siren were the only sounds, until a figure emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding and undeniable.

A chill ran down the spine, standing in the alley as Batman stepped into view, his cape billowing slightly in the breeze. The Dark Knight's eyes, hidden beneath his cowl, glinted with a cold intensity. His voice, a deep, gravelly whisper, cut through the silence.

"I want to talk."