The fluorescent lights of Arkham Asylum cast a harsh, sterile glow on the scene. You stood before the Plexiglas, your gaze fixed on the figure within. Two-Face, his once imposing presence now a grotesque parody of its former self, sat slumped in a chair, his orange jumpsuit a stark contrast to the grim surroundings.

Half of his face, the right side, was a horrific mask of charred flesh. The skin was a mottled, gruesome red, the flesh hanging in grotesque folds. His right eye, a vacant, milky white orb, bulged from its socket, a grotesque parody of sight. The sight was enough to make even the most hardened criminal flinch.

Two-Face, his voice a low growl, glared at you through the glass. **"You should have finished me..." he spat, his voice laced with a chilling venom. "I'll get out of this... and I'll be back. When the coin says that your time is up... then you'll die..."

He raised his hand, the coin glinting menacingly in the harsh light. With a chillingly deliberate flick of his wrist, he let it spin. Heads. A cruel smile, a grotesque parody of triumph, twisted his lips. "Your time is running out," he hissed, his voice a chilling promise.