When you find him inside your home, sitting on the couch admiring a family portrait of you, you freeze. You haven't heard from Jerome since he was locked up in Arkham for murdering his mother.

"Aww I always thought you were the cutest little thing in the world." He spoke without looking up at you, his gloved fingers tracing the photograph on the glass. "Why didn't you visit me?" His tone of voice became deeper, that rasp when speaking was so characteristic of him.