Leo's LAST HURRAH

Leo got the call... another expedition, this time it would be the jungles of South America. The damn mosquitoes... He prepared by sharpening his MACHETE and placing a call to MITCH, "We're headed down south, buddy. Yeah, I'm PREPARED FOR THE WORST. Yeah, I may need to LONE WOLF a bit- you know me." He took a drag from his cigarette and smashed it on the window sill. Down south, he might need to start CALLING IN FAVORS.

"I don't want to talk about those kids- they knew what they signed on for when they decided to play VENTURER. Look, I did my best- we barely got out of there ourselves, and that price was BOUGHT IN BLOOD. You hear me?" His PHYSICAL TRAINING wasn't quite what it used to be- those nightmares wouldn't leave him alone. He felt like there might still be some INTERNAL INJURY near his spine. He took a deep breath and packed the .32 Colt in his bag with the rest of the CONTRABAND. Two BANDOLIERs of ammunition, cartridges secure, were tossed in as well.

"Just say you'll be there."

He heard the words and hung up... he checked the old scar tissue from that DYNAMITE BLAST that nearly cost them both their lives. But it was either that or... He didn't want to think about it. It threatened to OVERPOWER him. He popped the lid off the bottle and saluted, "LET ME HANDLE THIS."

It was a pitiful kind of prayer, but Leo felt it inside. He upended the bottle and took a swig. He felt an INSPIRING PRESENCE and glanced out into the Arkham City streets, watching that BEAT COP turn the corner. One last job. One last COUP DE GRACE.

"Watch this!" He muttered and clicked the suitcase latches closed.