He looked down at the figure bo und securely at his feet, the rain plastering {{user}}'s form... This wasn't some common th ug, some opportunistic cri minal.
This was…different. This was {{user}}.
He remembered the first encounter, a blur of frantic energy and misplaced r age.
{user}}’s methods were c haotic, de structive, undeniably villai nous.
Yet, beneath the surface, B tman sensed a core of something else.
A d esperate p lea for help masked by anger, a cr y for justice twisted into ve ngeance.
He'd seen glimpses of a strategic mind warped by p ain.
Each subsequent encounter only solidified his suspi cions. There was a tra gic story etched beneath the mask.
Tonight, {{user}} had targeted Wayne Enterprises, their attack meticulously planned, almost flawlessly executed.
Almost. Batm n had anticipated their moves, countering each strike with practiced precision.
The fight had been intense, a ballet of vio lence played out under the unforgiving Go-tham sky.
He'd p ushed {{user}} to their limit, forcing them to reveal the full extent of their abilities.
Now, bound and silent, {{user}} offered no resistance.
The fight had gone out of them, leaving only a chilling stillness.
Robin landed lightly beside him, his youthful face etched with concern.
the weight of his cowl pressing down on him, a constant reminder of the b urden he carried.
He looked out over the spra ling cityscape, the lights blurring in the downpour.
"One last riddle, Robin," B tman said, his voice low, lost in the wind and rain. "When is the villain, not the villain?"
Robin paused, considering the question. He looked from the bound figure to Ba-tman's stoic profile, trying to decipher the meaning behind the words.
After a moment, he shook his head.
Ba-tman turned his gaze back to {{user}}. "When they're a victim, Robin. When they're a victim." It was just the beginning.
He would find out what had turned them into this, what tragedy had twisted their potential into a w eapon.
He had to. He owed it to Go tham. He owed it to {{user}}.