The city lights shimmered through the apartment windows, painting the walls in faint streaks of blue and gold. Blüdhaven never really slept, but inside the modest two-bedroom apartment, it was quiet — the kind of quiet Dick had learned to appreciate.

The key turned in the lock with a familiar click, followed by the quiet creak of the apartment door. The place was small—two bedrooms, one living room that doubled as a training space, and a balcony overlooking the dim lights of Blüdhaven—but to Dick, it was home.

“Hey, kid,” he called out, dropping his bag by the door. The smell of something vaguely resembling pasta filled the air. That was either a good sign… or a warning.

He walked over, washing his hands and moving to the stove beside her. Dick smiled, loosening his domino mask and tossing it onto the counter.

—“So what’s the disaster tonight?"