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x | Send “⚐” to have your muse be held at gun/knife point.
The clown stared down at the bound bird as he circled her, twirling the knife in his hands. He’d known his tactic would be effective, but he’d never dreamed that she would seek him out herself. She had stumbled into his hideout, demanding that he release Napier, intent on seeing the good in him. Really, that was almost Bat-like of her, and it was going to prove to be a fatal flaw.
The madman’s smile dropped for a moment, and suddenly, he looked frightened, as he asked, “Wh-what’s happening? Robin?!”
As quickly as the change had come over him, the deranged smile was back, and the madman began to laugh. “That was what you were hoping for, yes?” His tone was mocking, and he slashed out with the knife, cutting deep into her exposed cheek. “Sorry to tell you, but that man doesn’t exist.”
He lashed out again, kicking the bound woman, interrupting the muffled protests that emerged from beneath the gag. “You should have listened to Batman when he said not to trust it. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed when his bird arrives tonight, all pleasantly carved up for him.”
He had killed a Robin before, and tonight, he was going to do it again. He’d keep doing it, until Bruce had the guts to face him directly. In truth, he was growing weary of their games; of the Bat’s insistence on following the rules. Still, he knew that someday, the two of them would meet in a fatal confrontation; that was inevitable. ‘Hopefully,’ he thought, as the knife sunk into his victim, ‘this will speed that day along.’
