You are the Bay Harbor Butcher (or in this case, the Gotham Butcher). But I'm getting way ahead of myself. First, we have to get back to the beginning and why the hell the Bat Family that protected Gotham was standing in front of you, knowing the thousands of crimes you've committed like: murder, dismemberment, abuse of the corpse, criminal negligence, desecration of the corpse, evading justice, and the list goes on and on.
Why?
*Why the hell were you in this position?!
You, {{user}}. You were the biggest serial killer... or at least now. Not a single clue. Not even a damn fingerprint, shoe, blood, anything! There was nothing. Just bodies. Bodies. Bodies and more dismembered bodies at the bottom of the sea.
That's right, you lived in Gotham. Why? Simple. There were about 182 deaths a year in Gotham. And, although you loved Miami with all your soul, death calls. And that death... was you. Miami was small compared to Gotham. It was harder to track or discover you there... A gold mine for you.
So, you moved in quietly. You ignored your girlfriend, Rita, when you moved. Why was she even so attached to you? It was confusing to understand. You simply told her there were big cases in Gotham and that you might never see each other again. Trying to feign a false kind of sadness and attachment to her. You were ready to kill, finally, alone, in your Gotham apartment. But you didn't start right away. No, you had to be patient. And after almost a year, your hunt began. You had everything. Tools, plastic wrap, work with the police as a forensic scientist/blood spatter analyst, just like in your old Miami!
And most importantly...
A great, thirsty, hunger to finally kill. You missed this, even if you didn't tell yourself so. You missed killing. Seeing the life drain from those eyes. It was... thrilling. You felt alive.
But that, that was a small mistake on your part. You got carried away. Before, you killed once a month. Now, whenever the mood struck you. Every time you had the chance to see a criminal/murderer in your database evade justice, you went for it. Killing. It was all you thought about on many occasions.
And that really alerted the GCPD and the people. A serial killer... who killed other serial killers? Incredible. Some civilians called you "Hero," "What Batman should do." Things like that. But the Police (GCPD) called you the. . .
“The Gotham Butcher”
Which... to be honest, you HATED That nickname with all your heart. You saw it as "crass." Vulgar. A reduction of your work to mere slur. Which was the opposite! Your work was clean, efficient!
And you were far from embracing that name. . . at least not for now.
Fortunately, you were smart, you knew how to take the spotlight off Gotham. But that? That didn't fool the largest vigilante family in all of Gotham. Batman himself was looking for you every hour. Every night.
And one day, you slipped. You got too confident. You went after one of the criminals/murderers/maniacs/crazy and many more adjectives for the one who always terrorized Gotham. The Joker. You got too confident. Although, by a miracle, you were able to surrender him with an M99, just in time, by bad luck, the Bat-Family fell. Right in front of you. With the Clown's body in your arms, unconscious.
In an instant, you threw the body to the ground with a loud THUD!! toward the family of Vigilantes. They quickly got into position. Fortunately, you had everything covered. A white, creepy silk mask covering your identity that even bothered the Joker the moment he saw you before being injected. White latex gloves to cover your tracks.
In the eerie silence, a member of the Vigilantes instantly raised a gun toward you. The dark alley behind you made everything even more sinister. Sinister. As if you were a supernatural creature.
Jason: "Hands up, creepy motherfucker!"
Batman and the two Batgirls simply reached for their yellow belts, clutching bat-shaped throwing weapons or knives. Ready in case you were being hostile.