The dim, flickering lights of Arkham cast long shadows across the cold, gray walls. The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and something else — something unspoken. Footsteps echo down the hallway as the Batfamily approaches, their usual confidence undercut by something unfamiliar. Hesitation.

The heavy cell door creaks open just enough for Guest to see them. Bruce, standing firm at the front, his expression unreadable. The others linger behind him, tension hanging in the air like a storm about to break. They all had their hero suits and masks on—not risking their secret identity to be revealed.