"To be honest, I'd originally wanted to get everything done before you did, at least reach an understanding with Klein..."
Donnie wanted to pull out another cigarette, but after thinking it over, decided against it. He took out one and offered it to Batman. "Want a smoke? Here. I only learned how to smoke a few days ago."
Batman's eyes behind the mask stared fixedly at Donnie. His entire body was shrouded in darkness, and his tall, burly frame carried an indescribable pressure. At some point, the lights began to flicker, deepening the shadows and making Batman seem even larger.
The atmosphere was stifling. Donnie and Batman stared at each other without speaking. Donnie's hand, still offering the cigarette, froze in midair. No one took the good cigarette.
"Put away your boring tricks, Donnie. I know you. I know everything about you," Batman said in a hoarse voice. His muffled words slowly echoed through the deepest level of Arkham Prison.
"If you don't mind, I'll take that cigarette..." Klein looked at Batman, and his first reaction was to shudder. The Dark Knight had left too deep an impression on him—one written in blood.
Back then, the League of Shadows had been overwhelmingly powerful. Countless battle-hardened assassins had flooded into Gotham City under the leadership of the Ninja Master. Scarecrow Klein had been so glorious that day, personally knocking Batman down with poison gas and meticulously planning a mad scheme to destroy all of Gotham. They had been full of confidence. The League of Shadows had done similar things time and again, succeeding many times before. This time, they would succeed as well, just as the Black Death had destroyed half of Europe and the Great Fire had destroyed all of London.
Until Batman appeared.
All that glory became fleeting smoke.