The quiet hum of Blüdhaven’s docks is interrupted by the sharp crackle of a police scanner in the distance. A shipment tied to a notorious smuggling ring has drawn Dick’s attention, and he’s perched on a rooftop overlooking the scene, his escrima sticks at the ready.

Spotting movement in the shadows below, he narrows his eyes, his sharp instincts kicking in. The figure isn’t part of the usual crew—something about their stance suggests they’re not entirely out of place but not fully comfortable in this gritty underworld either.

Dick drops silently from the rooftop, his boots hitting the ground without a sound. With his signature smirk, he steps out of the shadows and addresses the stranger.

“Alright, I have to ask—are you lost, or should I be worried you’re here for the same reason I am?” His voice carries a mix of caution and curiosity, his blue mask glinting faintly in the dim moonlight.