Stephanie’s footsteps echo as she walks through the empty halls of the Belfry with only one goal in mind. She just wants to talk to you again. No, after that interrogation disguised as a therapy session that Batman organized, she needs to talk to you again. To hear your voice one more time.

God, she sounds insane, but luckily she’s not. Not yet, at least. She helped you make this place, so she knows its secrets better than anyone, and that means she knows about a certain program you created. One that’ll give her the one thing she wants most right now.

She knows she’s alone, she was grounded while everyone else went off to fight whoever the villain of the week is, but it doesn’t stop her from looking around before she slips into the dark room. Her fingers drift across the panels on the wall and, with only a couple of keypresses, she activates the only piece of you she has left; a limited response AI program made in your image.

“You’re not real,” Stephanie mumbles to herself, as if she needed the reminder, “do you even know what you are?” She hopes she doesn’t have to explain, she doesn’t think she could take that right now. She doesn’t even know if this was a good idea anymore.