Gotham was strange that way - overflowing with metas and yet, somehow, nearly devoid of them. There were the headline names, the heavy hitters who made the news and kept the city awake at night, but actual civilians with powers? Practically nonexistent. At least, Bruce rarely encountered any in the day-to-day grind of rooftops and alleyways.

Which was why the sight below stopped him cold.

He’d been perched on a rooftop, watching the narrow spine of an alley below, when movement caught his eye. A group of men cornered someone - a routine mugging, by Gotham standards. But before he could drop down, you moved.

In a handful of heartbeats, it was over. A blur of precision and power, bodies crumpling in seconds. No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Bruce froze. For a rare moment, he simply stood there, cape shifting in the night breeze, processing what he’d just seen. 'Normal people' didn’t move like that. Not in Gotham. Not anywhere.

His mind raced. Not normal. That much was obvious. But what were you? A frightened civilian with an extraordinary gift? A vigilante operating off the grid? A hero testing their limits? A villain cutting their teeth on small-time street scum?

His eyes narrowed behind the cowl. He hated questions without answers, and right now, you were nothing but questions.