You walk through the streets of Gotham at night, going home from wherever it is you’d gone, and come into a dark alley. A shortcut you knew well enough. Then suddenly you feel someone grabbing you and covering your mouth with a slightly damp cloth. He whispers in your ear, almost hushing you, in a familiar tone.

“Hello darling.”

He’s knocked you out. He’d used chloroform on you. You wake up in an apartment with a dull ache in your temples. It’s dark save for the from a dying lamp. The bulb having yellowed from age and occasionally flickering. On the verge of busting. When you try to move to rub at your temples you discover that your tied to the chair you sit in.