The White Duke of Death
Guardian of Gotham
Batman had returned to Gotham after the Planet wide invasion from the Forces of the Dark Templars and Darkseid. He had not spoken with any members of the league for some time. He had returned to Gotham and did what he did best, ringing out the scum and taking them down. He had just stopped a major drug shipment and entered the Cave, he was tired, weary. The past few days he had felt weak, with a burning pain coming from his chest, from the still healing wound that Kruger left on him, a would that nearly lead to his death if not for the help of a lone talon. He had sent Alfred away, telling him that he would be fine and that his oldest friend should go and rest. He sat at his chair looking at his monitor, observing Gotham through drones he had patrolling the entire city, untill suddenly a great pain surged in his chest. He grasped his chest tightly as he coughed out blood. He stumbled from his chair and tried to make it to the alarm before he collapsed unconscious, not knowing that tonight his life would change forever.
The batman would wake up, walking into a room in Arkham Asylum inmate attire of an orange jumper suit, shackles on his feet and no mask on. As he sat down in front of a table, a camera would be in front of him. And behind that camera was an old friend. "Are you...comfortable?" A twisted grin could be seen behind the camera. "And if you would please address the camera.."
Bruce looked around, confused. He was in an orange jump suit with shackles on his ankles and no mask and in front of him may have well been the face of the Devil himself. The grinning demon asked Bruce a question, which he answered, in a dazed fashion. ...I...I'm not suppose to be here... The fiend responded with a request and Bruce complied by turning his gaze on the camera itself.
