Opening his eyes, he expected to see that pale face staring at him, that wide spread grin was something that he woke up to before, and it would never, ever stop haunting him. Not after he was nearly beaten to death, locked up inside with his own mother, only to watch her die, himself following her straight away. Truth was, he would have faint memories of that event; his little trip to the dead and back, as well as his dive in the Lazarus Pit left him in such agony, rage and confusion. However, the Joker made sure that he would relive that experience, kidnapping him again, only to have his two friends save him.
Standing up, he stared at his bright red helmet by his side, and by a closer inspection, it was obvious that someone tinkered with it. His fists clenched; judging from the weird screens and the annoying messages that played over and over again, it was unlikely that he was behind all this. A good and solid plan, just like he loved to play with with him, but it wasn’t his scheme. Still, wearing that helmet seemed risky, he couldn’t allow himself to have that happen to him. Recovering took a long time, and his time unconscious only resembled another death of his. He wouldn’t go through that again, no, he refused to.
His pistols were gone, his shotguns, his trusty dagger; everything that he was equipped with, courtesy of Talia al Ghul, were out of sight. Only his helmet was left there and a wooden dagger. That wouldn’t be a problem, he knew exactly how he could make it lethal; he was trained to kill and he stood by that code to his day. First, he needed some answers; the words coming out of that so called scientist’s mouth made his blood boil, and his logical reaction was to punch the TV screen. Walking outside and approaching the first person he could spot, he demanded his answer, his helmet still in hand.
“You seem like a reasonably smart enough person. Where the hell am I?”
