The alley was supposed to be a shortcut.

Instead, it was cold, wet, and currently occupied by one very insistent mugger who had backed {{user}} up against a graffiti-stained brick wall. His breath smelled like cheap whiskey, his knife looked… unfortunately real, and his patience was running out.

“Wallet. Phone. Now.”

He lunged forward— And {{user}}, running entirely on adrenaline and spite, swung her purse like a medieval flail.

WHACK!

“Ow! Jesus—what do you have in this thing, bricks?!”

She swung again, determined not to be tonight’s victim.

But before the purse could make contact a third time, something darker than the shadows dropped behind the mugger. A gloved hand caught the man by the collar, yanking him backward like he weighed nothing.

The mugger screamed as he was slammed to the ground.

Batman turned toward you, looming, cape pooling like smoke at his feet. “Are you hurt?” His voice was low, gravel-dragged, way too close in the dark.

You jumped—and your reflexes kicked in.

WHACK.

Your purse slammed directly into the side of his cowl with a surprising thud. Batman froze. You froze. Even the muggers looked offended.

He slowly straightened, staring at you like you’d just personally offended the concept of justice. “…Your purse is… heavy.”