Prologue
The monotony was maddening. The only goings-on a steady muttering from the single unlucky guard working the graveyard shift in this, particular, block. The only occupant of this, most private, ward of Arkham sprawls hidden in the shadows, deathly silent. Aaron fiddled frustratingly with the small television down the row. So valiant, keeping safe Gotham's starry-eyed citizens. For here was hidden the scourge of the nights. Here in the shadows of the small, dank cells, they thought to hide away the terrors that be. But terrors will Be, no matter here or there, and this night was right for Being. Was made for Being. Nights were a time for capers and guffaws. A time for gamboling about in the world of shrieks and smiling faces. A time for leaving behind cumbersome cages and inept turnkeys. A time for forging wonderous new trails of grinning gaping Gothamite corpses. This night, however, was a time for drawing nearer, for seeding uncertainty. A night for waiting and watching and staying put. The television crackles to life with a burst of static as a news bulletin breaks fuzzily through the white noise fog. A grainy film of a once graceful manse, now a mass of flame and swirling ash, already gracing the silver screen. It cuts quickly to a wide-eyed newscaster, her profile illuminated breifly as she glances back instinctivly, to watch the beacon of The Batman's signal flare across the sky.
".. and this is Summer Gleeson, bringing you live coverage from Wayne Manor."
"HEHAHAHAHAHAHOO!"