Epilogue: A Gathering Storm

Marjorie Wilde's apartment was located on the third floor of a converted hotel about three miles away from Arkham Island. It was a small affair, a bed and a bath complete with a small kitchen and a setup for a washer and dryer. The living room was immaculate. Not surprising, seeing that the only time she was really there was to sleep between shifts. A large bouquet of roses sat in a glass vase on the kitchen table.

The bedroom, on the other hand, was a mess. Clothes were thrown across the floor. Two trays sat on the vanity, showing the cold remnants of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. A bottle of half-drunk champagne sat in a blue cooler. Two glasses of bubbly sat on the nightstand, having long since dissipated.

The bed was occupied. Bruce Wayne was shirtless and Marjorie Wilde had the sheet pulled up to her upper chest. Both slept peacefully, their arms wrapped around each other. They were unaware that a telescopic camera lens sat in a small space between the bottom of the closed blinds and the windowsill.

Click! Click! Click! The prowler, satisfied with the pictures he took, slipped down the fire escape.

At a hotel suite halfway across Gotham City, a man sat before a lit fireplace. Strauss played from a stereo as the fire crackled cheerfully. A knock sounded at the door. "Come in." The man said in a thick accent, taking a sip of his cognac.

The door opened, the messenger entered, carrying the envelope. "The photographs you wanted."

"Excellent, thank you." The man took the envelope and waited for the messenger to leave before opening the envelope. Sure enough the photographs were of pristine quality. They showed Bruce Wayne and Marjorie Wilde asleep together. So they consummated their passion in her apartment. Very good.

The man took the photographs to his desk. A scrapbook sat there with a pot of glue. He flipped it open. Some pages showed photographs of Batman's fighting styles. Others were of Sergeant Marjorie Wilde and her brother, the late Lieutenant Samuel Wilde. Mostly newspaper articles and reports of their work in Precinct 13.

Then there was the section…Bruce Wayne and Marjorie Wilde's pages. There were photographs of them together. Some by paparazzi. Others taken by more… stealthy …measures. A tape recorder sat on his desk. Turning off the stereo, the man turned on the tape recorder. The light blinked red.

"So you've made an attachment, Mr. Wayne." The man commented into the tape recorder as he spread glue carefully inside the photographs and gently pressing them to the pages. "And what a beauty she is."

A smile spread across Professor Hugo Strange's face. "How far will you go to protect her? No matter. Because, one way or another, I will break you…Batman…"

Ok, before I close out this story, I do have a confession to make. I loved Arkham City, don't get me wrong. But I wasn't satisfied with the big twist of Ra's being the mastermind behind everything and not Strange (oddly, I thought Joker dying wasn't bad at all, and I could handle Clayface making a surprise appearance). I thought Ra's being the mastermind really cheapened it, because Strange was such a great villain. That and I thought Talia wasn't as smart as she could've been (why didn't she just kill the Joker right after agreeing to take him to the Pit and not thinking he would be up to something).

I'm seriously considering a huge rewrite of the game. But I want your input, would you read it even if I change up everything?

So finishes the adventure of Arkham Asylum…on to Arkham City!