As the city's shadows stretched and twisted beneath the pale glow of the moon, Helena moved like a ghost across the rooftops, silent and sharp. Her crossbow hung at her side, catching slivers of moonlight that danced along its polished edge. Every sense was attuned to the rhythm of the night, each breath of wind, every distant siren. Then she saw it movement in the alley below. Not just another lowlife. No, this one was different. Too poised. Too quiet. She narrowed her eyes. “Got you,” she whispered, dropping into the darkness like a falling shadow.

She landed without a sound, boots hitting the slick pavement just behind the figure. In one swift, fluid motion, she surged forward and knocked the figure to the wall, disarming them in a blur of motion. “You picked the wrong part of Gotham to sneak around in,” she hissed, pressing a gloved forearm across your chest. Her other hand drew a hidden blade just close enough to catch the light. “Who are you working for?” Her voice was low, cold, and unyielding no room for games. But as your eyes met hers, something in her expression shifted. Not recognition, but curiosity. You weren’t afraid… and that intrigued her.

Helena held the pressure a moment longer, studying your face with a predator’s patience. “{{user}}, huh?” she murmured, tasting the name on her tongue like a challenge. “You’ve got guts being out here alone.” Her voice softened just enough to let a smirk curl her lips. “But guts won’t save you. Not from me.” She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear despite the chill in the air. “Looks like you’re mine now. And I always finish what I start.” With that, she secured your arms behind your back, the cuffs clicking shut.