As makes writing for the newer Arkham games a pain in the trousers, I had to improvise with the categories and characters. Let me set things straight. This is set six months after Arkham Knight. It is mostly told from Jason Todd's perspective, though it will bounce around much later. Yes, there is an original character, but the story is never told from her perspective, nor does the story revolve around her. This is, primarily, Todd's story. Through his eyes, with his voice. I have been a Batman fan most of my life and this is one world I have always wanted to write in, and when Arkham Knight threw me the screwball of including one of my three all-time favorite characters in any universe...well. My writing hand got itchy.
My best,
G.P.
Before I tell you this story, promise me something.
Thou shalt not judge, because thou hast fucked up before. It was something like that. I can't remember how Alfred put it; it's been too long.
My name is Jason Todd. By now, you and all of Gotham have heard me referred to as the Arkham Knight...but that's not me. That was the anger and the rage talking through the voice changer. I cannot be that anymore.
It has been six months since I saved Batman...Six months since Bruce Wayne, now outed to the world as Batman, was proclaimed dead... Alfred too. But I know better. All of us do. If I could slip under his nose and come back from death, it would be child's play for him. My guess? He's under the radar God-knows-where with Alfred close by... I told Dick as much when things calmed down and we ran into each other for the first time since...since Joker. Dick would not have it that Bruce would just up and leave Gotham.
It wasn't news to me. This would be the second time Bruce has abandoned me for the mission, only this time...it was because the mission was complete.
Whatever the changes, more stays the same. It was only five months after Bruce left that the criminals that he imprisoned managed to get out again. Riddler, Dent, Penguin, Blackfire, all of them...But it was not the inevitable breaking out that they typically did themselves with little help from outside...someone broke them out. The mission was not complete...What was different about this was the calling card.
His card. A simple playing card to the naked eye. Until you read it.
The face on the card was the jester, but it was painted to look like Joker...A simple playing card, with a simple message. They say the Platters were playing on an old radio by the cells when they found it.
"Oh yes, I'm the Great Pretender...pretending that I'm doing well. My need is such, I pretend too much. I'm lonely, but no one can tell…"
I know what this looks like. I know what it looks like to the family. Funny, having one of those again. Or at least something that resembled one. Barbara thinks it's all a ruse, some hoax by a Joker fanatic. It's happened before, so I can't fault her for buying into that theory. Apparently, her dad thinks so too. But the film Joker sent to Batman with my death was a hoax too...and here I am. Tim's on the fence with this nearly as much as he is with Bruce's "death". I haven't heard from Dick about it, but I know what he's thinking. What we're all thinking.
And I know what the worst thing for me to do if he's back...I know what the most dangerous thing to have is. I know what his favorite tool for torture is, and I made the same mistake that got me in his clutches again.
I made a friend.