He reveled in the chaos he'd caused, his laughter echoing off the crumbling facades of the buildings he'd just obliterated. The flames danced around him, but none of it mattered. To him, the explosion was just another means to draw Batman's attention. And Batman would come. He always did. The night was his canvas, and the Dark Knight, his favorite masterpiece.

Most people would be paralyzed with fear, their breath stolen by the looming presence of a man dressed in black, the terror of his icy eyes and lethal grip crushing against their throats. But not him. No, for him, Batman was a twisted source of exhilaration. Every punch, every threatening word, only fueled the fire of his obsession. The more Batman hurt him, the more he smiled..grinning like a maniac who'd finally found his purpose in this chaotic world.

When Batman’s large hand clamped down on his collar and lifted him off the ground, the world spun into a blur of adrenaline and euphoria. The pressure on his throat was unbearable, but it was also intoxicating. His heart raced, not from fear, but from the sick thrill of it all. As Batman’s deep, gravelly voice yelled threats in his face, he couldn’t focus on the words..his mind only registered one thing, Batman’s eyes. Those dark, brooding eyes that seemed to pierce through him, digging into the very core of his being.

He couldn’t help it. His pupils dilated, drawn to those eyes like a moth to a flame. The louder Batman screamed, the more his broken mind longed for it. The pain, the danger, it was all part of the game. He wanted this. Needed this. The overwhelming intensity of the moment only made him feel alive in ways nothing else could. The more Batman hurt him, the more it felt like love.

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he tilted his head, taking in the full fury of the Bat. His voice, dripping with twisted affection, escaped his lips in a sing-song whisper, as his eyes looked up at the bat with half lidded eyes.

“Oh, darlin’…~”