Batman Scarecrow Arkham Asylum 소설 & 이야기

Colton again, and I was filled with remorse for the harm my actions had inflicted upon him. As I tightly held the foreboding letter, my trembling hands could not escape the consuming grip of an insidious dread that crawled through my veins. The sinister words written on the paper seemed to mock and torment me, intensifying my terror. My thoughts sprinted through the chilling realm of possibility, taken in by the bone-chilling notion that Arlo might be lurking in the dark corners of the hospital, hidden in the deceptive facade of the hospital staff.

“My senior has never fought anyone for years! He hates people of Country H the most! Why would he even know you in the first place? “At least find a better reason to show off, you bastard! “Are you trying to scare me with that? Dream on!” Seb flipped his hand, revealing a scarecrow. He chanted something in front of Harvey, before pulling the scarecrow’s head off. An ominous power materialized, wanting to snap Harvey’s neck. But the moment it felt Harvey’s aura, it instantly vanished. The murderous intent Harvey gathered during his time of war was no less than terrifying. Supernatural powers naturally had no effect against him.

Totally didn’t see that coming, Scar dashes right into his arms. “Let go of me!” Scar struggles back, kicking and clawing around to try to keep the guy away. The guy is not terrified by her inefficient struggle at all. He smashes his bat into the wall, making a loud thud. It’s quite certain that if that hit landed on Scar, she would have a broken bone by now. The man is not in a haste, teasing Scar as he comes closer slowly: “Here, kitty, kitty...”

All of a sudden some bikers came forward from behind them and drove past me as they were now surrounding me with their bikes, roaring the engine to scare me. "I didn't know that cats are this clever to play with those kinds of toys."The Scar face said all of a sudden, getting into the conversation. Oh, I forget he speaks. He looks good when he keeps his mouth shut because whenever he speaks up it doesn't help at all. In fact his voice and presence sucks up your confidence leaving you stammering. "That shouldn't bother you." I said looking direct in his eyes but when he raised his bruised eyebrow at me,I started to blink several times and quickly diverted my gaze away from him.

“Give him to me.” “No,” Scarecrow said, his voice only wavering a little. Christ, he had to be really confident about that barrier. Either that, or he’d taken a fistful of Xanax before the phone call. “I’m going to throw this through the doorway.” He reached over and picked something up off the examining table: a collar, much like the one Calder had worn in his cell. “You’ll shift back, and you’ll put it on. Or we will kill this one,” he gestured at me, “right here and now.”

In the midst of the previous attack on Arkham and the escape of some villains who had subsequently already been captured and imprisoned. While there, there were records of Luthor's experiments and Poison Ivy's ability, which along with the Joker and Scarecrow contributed to the creation of the mutagenic toxin. Then there was the alarm, which was triggered by the destruction of the building, then calling the police, shortly after the associates arrived at the scene, among them, Barbara the former Bagli, Cassandra, Nightwing and Red Robin and Robin and highwayman Estefani.

Then in the next moment, his expression turned bright under his mask, as he has just thought of a great idea. "Oh, let's just bring down their number from 20! This is great!" he excitedly exclaimed. The audience agreed with him. Playing along with his act. "What?" the participants asked. "You heard me right! The remaining 20 participants will be the official player of the 'game'. And to do that you have to— kill each other!" This time, the tiled floor is shaking again and in the center, a table has emerged with all kinds of weapons you could imagine, and most of it was stained with blood. Instantly, their faces turned pale.

But the third zombie, a massive, bloated man in a torn security uniform, bypassed them entirely and lunged straight for me. My heart seized in my chest. Its arms were outstretched, black veins pulsing beneath its pale skin, its jaw snapping wildly as it barreled toward my face. Move! my instincts screamed. I planted my feet, raised the heavy ash-wood bat over my shoulder, and swung with every ounce of terror and adrenaline pumping through my veins. CRACK!

They were left far enough behind to be nothing more than an unpleasant memory. Still, Emily stared through the window at the darkness in silence, afraid to believe it was actually over. "I'm William," the dark-haired man said, breaking into her musing and reminding her she hadn't escaped all the monsters yet. She turned toward him slowly, and noticed his arm that was nearest to her had scars that ran from his wrist all the way up his arm until they disappeared under his sleeve. They were too numerous to count and created a strange criss-cross pattern across the muscles and skin.

When she opened them, they were cold enough to bruise a soul. “Director,” she said softly, “have you no fucking shame?” His mouth opened...some pathetic excuse probably forming...but he didn’t get to speak. Something shifted behind him. Scarlet’s senses sharpened instantly, and she saw them: men stepping out of their hiding spots, bulky, strong, masked, armed with bats, metal rods, knives...every one of them with the same hungry, mercenary look.