Gotham night air was thick with rain, turning the city into a haze of neon reflections and slick rooftops. The streets below were eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic. Batman stood at the edge of the building, his cape billowing slightly in the wind, ever watchful. Selina lingered beside him, her smirk just visible beneath her mask.

And then there was {{user}} a criminal like Selina that help him in some mission—huddled under Batman’s cape, shielding themselves from the downpour.

Bruce’s jaw tightened. Annoying. Selina, on the other hand, found it hilarious, her laughter soft but unmistakable. But the real problem? The moment {{user}}’s back brushed against his.

That was the line.

Without hesitation, Batman grabbed a fistful of his own cape and yanked, sending {{user}} stumbling back. It was meant to be a simple correction—just get them out of his space—but he didn’t account for the rain-slicked rooftop. Their footing failed, and before anyone could react, they were over the edge.

Selina’s breath hitched. She stared, frozen for half a second before snapping—

“WHAT THE HELL, BRUCE? WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!”

Batman had already stiffened, his own hands clenched. He hadn’t meant to—he just—

“I swear,” he muttered, more to himself than her, “they always land on their feet.”

Selina shot him a look like she was ready to throw him off the roof next.

“They’re not a damn cat, Bruce!” she snapped, already rushing forward.

Bruce moved to follow but stopped short at the ledge. Below, clinging to the rain-slicked stone, {{user}} hung there, fingers digging into the rooftop’s edge.

Selina let out something between a relieved sigh and a curse.

Batman exhaled slowly in relief, already kneeling down to help {{user}}.