"Just rats in the gutter." Arkham Knight put away his sniper rifle, looked over the corpses scattered across the ground, and gently shook his head before turning to the necromancer, Doctor Strange.
"Since you know necromancy, can you ask these dead men who turned them?"
"Don't rush." Doctor Strange still carried that slightly arrogant elegance as he said, "Wouldn't it be boring if we found the source so quickly?"
Arkham Knight chuckled. He liked dealing with people like this—no endless talk of righteousness, evil and violent enough.
"But if we can't pose a greater threat to them, why would they be willing to send more rats our way?" he asked.
"If I'm not mistaken, all those fanged rats share some special connection. They can sense each other's deaths, so as long as we kill enough of them, sooner or later some formidable ones will come looking for us."
Doctor Strange let his gaze fall on Arkham Knight's Helmet. "Are you sure you can handle it, kid?"
"You should worry about yourself first." With that, Arkham Knight leaped down. His grappling hook swung out, and he landed heavily on the ground.
"A powerful one is coming." Doctor Strange's volume did not change, yet his voice clearly appeared beside Arkham Knight's ear.
By then, no further warning was needed. Bright moonlight spilled down, making everything around them luminous and dreamlike, as though they stood within an illusion.
Arkham Knight looked up and saw a full moon that should not have been there.
A tall figure appeared at the end of the street. A red cape fell behind him, and Doctor Strange, whose toes had just touched the ground, twitched his nose.
"That's right. That smell of blood. Are we in trouble?"
"He is."
After an almost imperceptible whistle through the air, two