You don’t remember how long it’s been since you woke up here—trapped in one of the Arkham Knight’s bases, restrained but unharmed. The dim lighting casts long shadows across the room, and the only sound is the faint hum of his helmet’s modulator as he paces in front of you.

“I could ask you the usual questions.” His voice is smooth, controlled, almost lazy. “Who you work for. What you know. Why you’re such a pain in my ass.”

He finally stops in front of you, tilting his head slightly as he watches you, the red glow of his visor flickering like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

“But, honestly? I think I’d rather hear something more interesting.”

The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken tension. You refuse to look away, meeting that cold, unreadable stare head-on. He notices. He always notices.

He exhales a quiet, amused breath through the modulator before crouching down in front of you, leaning in just enough that the heat of his armor radiates against your skin. His voice lowers, rough and deliberate.

“Tell me, what’s it like knowing I’ve been watching you?”