S2 Episode 19: What Kind Of Hero Do You Want To Be? (Arthur-verse)

Tribal, EDM, Boyband, Gothic Noir, macabre, Trance, cello, bass violin, alt-indie acoustic

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║  WELCOME TO THE ARTHUR-VERSE · S2  ║
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Arthur is a self-created author and storm god.
He believes he created this world.

📁🧠⚖️ EVIDENCE REVIEW NOTICE ⚖️🧠📁
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“What Kind Of Hero Do You Want To Be?” documents the moment Tim Drake stops pretending this is simple. Damian’s warning is accurate: Arthur is dangerous. Tim can name the crimes, feel the residue, and still admit the worst part—he cannot choose the clean ending. Not because Arthur is innocent, but because Arthur’s imperfection is the axis Tim has been orbiting: Owl’s Walk runs on showing up, on doing the work, on refusing to let “safe” become an excuse to abandon what’s still alive.

So Tim does what he’s always done when his heart won’t settle: he builds a case. He opens the memory box and lays out the artifacts like evidence—kintsugi mug, old file, frayed rope—labeling each item as if clarity can be forced into existence by procedure. But the question keeps returning, not as a lyric, as a verdict: what kind of hero chooses witness over containment? With the house braced for doom and the bench waiting like a crime scene, Tim moves—one, two, three— and checking for more clues at the place he received the last clue.

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📁🧠⚖️ EVIDENCE REVIEW NOTICE ⚖️🧠📁

[Short Instrumental: Dark strings and orchestration, ominous mood, fear, worry, build up]

[verse 1]
I don’t disagree, Arthur’s a threat,
Damian said it, I logged the debt.
Two hundred dead in a thee-ater
He squeezed the world— called himself the creator
Now his crib is a cage he can’t outlive,
And I feel his waiting rage in my ribs.
I should want locks, a clean closure,
But I can’t hold that composure.

[refrain]
What kind of hero do you want to be? 
(do you want to be) 
mmmMMMmmm

[verse 2]
Arthur’s mortal crack is imperfection,
Owl’s Walk runs on work, on direction.
He’s family, the kind that asks for blood,
Selfish and loud, I still wade the flood.
Presence left a chart, a warning label,
Trapped in Memory, storm capped on the table.
I know cages restrain, even scar,
But Memory has walls with no bars.
So I sit by my old memory box,
Hand steady, throat tight— like I’m picking locks.

[refrain]
What kind of hero do you want to be? 
 (do you want to be) 
mmmMMMmmm

[bridge]
I’ve got things I kept that don’t add up,
Objects with weight, but no clear who or what.
Conner’s mug sits mended, gold seams,
I can’t recall the break, but it wakes my dreams.
The folder came first—circus lights, acrobats slain,
But the tent’s long gone and won’t explain.
The rope came later—quiet, bench by the bay,
That bench is still there, “so that’s where I’ll go”, I say!

I label one through three, then run to the bench,
Street cold on my skin, my lungs clench.

[Final refrain]
What kind of hero do you want to be?
(do you want to be)
I guess we’ll see.
I label one through three
(one two three)
Then run to the bench
street cold on my skin,
my lungs clench.

[outro]
There… must… be… more….
(one… two… three…)
There… must… be… more…
(one… two… three…)
Is there four?

3154/7500

╔════════════════════════════════════╗ ║ WELCOME TO THE ARTHUR-VERSE · S2 ║ ╚════════════════════════════════════╝ Arthur is a self-created author and storm god. He believes he created this world. 📁🧠⚖️ EVIDENCE REVIEW NOTICE ⚖️🧠📁 ──────────────────────────────────── “What Kind Of Hero Do You Want To Be?” documents the moment Tim Drake stops pretending this is simple. Damian’s warning is accurate: Arthur is dangerous. Tim can name the crimes, feel the residue, and still admit the worst part—he cannot choose the clean ending. Not because Arthur is innocent, but because Arthur’s imperfection is the axis Tim has been orbiting: Owl’s Walk runs on showing up, on doing the work, on refusing to let “safe” become an excuse to abandon what’s still alive. So Tim does what he’s always done when his heart won’t settle: he builds a case. He opens the memory box and lays out the artifacts like evidence—kintsugi mug, old file, frayed rope—labeling each item as if clarity can be forced into existence by procedure. But the question keeps returning, not as a lyric, as a verdict: what kind of hero chooses witness over containment? With the house braced for doom and the bench waiting like a crime scene, Tim moves—one, two, three— and checking for more clues at the place he received the last clue. ──────────────────────────────────── 📁🧠⚖️ EVIDENCE REVIEW NOTICE ⚖️🧠📁 [Short Instrumental: Dark strings and orchestration, ominous mood, fear, worry, build up] [verse 1] I don’t disagree, Arthur’s a threat, Damian said it, I logged the debt. Two hundred dead in a thee-ater He squeezed the world— called himself the creator Now his crib is a cage he can’t outlive, And I feel his waiting rage in my ribs. I should want locks, a clean closure, But I can’t hold that composure. [refrain] What kind of hero do you want to be? (do you want to be) mmmMMMmmm [verse 2] Arthur’s mortal crack is imperfection, Owl’s Walk runs on work, on direction. He’s family, the kind that asks for blood, Selfish and loud, I still wade the flood. Presence left a chart, a warning label, Trapped in Memory, storm capped on the table. I know cages restrain, even scar, But Memory has walls with no bars. So I sit by my old memory box, Hand steady, throat tight— like I’m picking locks. [refrain] What kind of hero do you want to be? (do you want to be) mmmMMMmmm [bridge] I’ve got things I kept that don’t add up, Objects with weight, but no clear who or what. Conner’s mug sits mended, gold seams, I can’t recall the break, but it wakes my dreams. The folder came first—circus lights, acrobats slain, But the tent’s long gone and won’t explain. The rope came later—quiet, bench by the bay, That bench is still there, “so that’s where I’ll go”, I say! I label one through three, then run to the bench, Street cold on my skin, my lungs clench. [Final refrain] What kind of hero do you want to be? (do you want to be) I guess we’ll see. I label one through three (one two three) Then run to the bench street cold on my skin, my lungs clench. [outro] There… must… be… more…. (one… two… three…) There… must… be… more… (one… two… three…) Is there four?

0/500