You were holed up in your hideout — which was more or less, a glorified junkyard working on... something.

The low scrape of a voice cut through the heavy air, sharp enough to make you stop.

"Hmph. So this is where you've been hiding."

It was Rose Wilson. The one and only(?) Ravager, daughter of Deathstroke himself. She stood there, half-smirking like she'd just caught you stealing cookies from the jar. Her arms were crossed and she was leaning casually against the closed garage door. Her half-mask was firmly in place, those twin katanas were sheathed for now — but knowing her, that could change real quick.

Always a pleasure...