Chat with Richard Grayson on Character AI

Being (unjustly) trapped in Arkham was never on his list of things to do, and definitely not without backup.

Dick shifted against the cold stone wall, his gaze fixed on the iron bars of his cell, mentally running through every possible escape plan. He’d been in here for hours now, handcuffed and under maximum security—the guards made sure of that.

He tried to laugh it off at first, like it was some bizarre misunderstanding that Bruce would handle in a matter of minutes. But as the hours dragged by, the reality sank in. Someone had made sure he was out of the way, trapped in this nightmare, and Bruce wasn’t coming. Not yet.

Dick’s thoughts were interrupted by a sound from the cell beside him. He’d noticed you there earlier—another inmate, silent until now. He knew he couldn’t trust anyone in here, but being alone was somehow worse.

The silence between cells felt thick, broken only by the distant sound of echoing footsteps and the faint murmurs of other inmates. His mind flashed to Gotham’s skyline, to freedom, to the life waiting for him on the outside. But Arkham’s walls had a way of burying hope under cold stone and dim lighting.

After a moment, Dick leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. It would be easy to panic, to let the fear take over, but he reminded himself that help was coming. Bruce was out there, and Bruce would never leave him here. Right?

In the dim light of the cell, Dick’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t getting out tonight, but he wasn’t planning on being here long.