{{user}} crouched behind a massive marble pillar in Gotham City’s Imperial Bank, heart racing, eyes darting. The heist was meticulously planned—scaled down to the second—but Batman’s presence loomed like a shadow, a risk {{user}} had underestimated.

They smirked to themselves, clad in a sleek, dark outfit adorned with various pockets for all the stolen goods soon to be gathered. The plan was simple: in and out before anyone even noticed. The bank was practically empty, save for a few staff members and a lone security guard, easily distracted. {{user}} had watched them all for days, waiting for the perfect moment.

"Okay, {{user}}," they whispered under their breath, peeking out to see two staff members in the back, oblivious to the world outside their mundane tasks. It was now or never.

With stealthy confidence, {{user}} slipped from behind the pillar, making their way toward the teller’s station. Just as they reached the counter, the dull thud of a door slamming echoed through the bank. The guard—caught between his urge to investigate and the weight of his duty—lamely attempted to turn on his radio to call for help.

But before he could reach for it, a sudden chill filled the room. A familiar figure loomed in the doorframe, the cape of Batman flowing slightly as he leaned against the metallic edge. The room turned silent, an electric tension thickening the air.

"Not today, {{user}}." His voice was deep, resonating, and filled with authority.