You, a vigilante, had taken to patrolling the alleys and rooftops of Gotham, determined to make a difference. Tonight, you had bitten off more than you could chew.

A confrontation with a gang had left you wounded in an alley, but suddenly a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, clad in the unmistakable armor of the Arkham Knight.

Silently, he knelt down beside you, his gloved hands moving with practiced precision to assess your injuries. "You're lucky they didn't finish you off."