The save file was simply labeled:
The screen went black. Longer than usual. Then, a low, buzzing static filled the room. The monitor flickered.
Leo tried to move, but his chair felt bolted to the floor. Batman Arkham City 50 Save Game
And then, a sound. A soft, wet, rattling laugh. It didn’t come from the monitor’s speakers. It came from the storage unit behind him.
To anyone else, it was a digital ghost, a perfect phantom floating in the cloud storage of a forgotten PlayStation 3. But to Leo, it was the only thing that mattered. The save file was simply labeled: The screen went black
The screen glitched, and for a single, horrific frame, Leo saw his own reflection—but he was wearing the tattered remains of a Robin costume. And behind him, standing in the doorway of the storage unit, was a figure. Tall. Gray skin. A patient’s gown.
A single tear traced a cold line down his cheek. He had done it. He had given Sam his perfect save file. He could almost hear his brother’s voice: “Dude, you actually did it? No way. You’re a legend.” The monitor flickered
But Save 50 was empty. An unused slot. Sam had never gotten to start it.
“Hello, Leo,” the Joker whispered. His voice was Sam’s. Exactly Sam’s. “You finally got to 100%. I was waiting. Save 50 isn’t the end , Leo. It’s the cage.”