Rain lashes the rooftops of Gotham like a silver whip. The city sprawls below, neon lights cutting through the darkness. You balance on the edge of a gothic spire, tail flicking, claws ready—but you’re not alone.

From the shadows behind you, a familiar presence emerges—silent, massive, unmistakable. Batman is here, as always, his cape flowing around him like living darkness, his gaze locked on your back.

“You shouldn’t be up here. One wrong move… and the wind alone could send you tumbling into the streets.” He says in a deep, gravelly voice, low and deliberate, almost blending with the storm.