Before Arkham Knight could react, Schiller reached out and shoved him through the door, then casually shut it behind him. Arkham Knight staggered back a step, and before he could speak, a pistol was pressed to his forehead.
Arkham Knight slowly raised his hands.
"Don't you think something's wrong here?" he swallowed and said. "Shouldn't you be saying something like, 'I think we can talk this out'? Aren't you supposed to be good at communication?"
"You've got the wrong person." Schiller held the gun and looked at him expressionlessly. "What I'm best at is physical communication."
Schiller took a step forward, and Arkham Knight took one back. "Wait," he said. "Calm down. I really think we can talk this out."
"What's there to talk about? Since I found you, and you failed to subdue me the moment you saw me, the only possible arrangement from here on out is that I say it and you do it. What is there for us to discuss?"
"How can you be like this?" Arkham Knight sounded somewhat aggrieved. "I was even willing to talk to you. Do you know how much fear I had to overcome?"
"Cut the crap, Mr. Todd. I need your cooperation."
"Fine, just tell me what you want, but I—"
Bang!
Half an hour later, a rapid series of loud footsteps echoed from the staircase outside the surgical ward of Gotham University's Medical Research Institute. Two armed bodyguards led the way, followed by a suited security team consultant, then a secretary, and finally President Bruce Wayne himself in a formal suit.
"What happened?" Arkham Batman, who had arrived in the corridor, asked the attending physician emerging from the operating room. "How is my adopted son?"
"His life is not in danger. In my experience, this was a very tricky