The Batcave is dimly lit, only the hum of computers and the flicker of screens breaking the silence. Chara Monroe-Kane stands near the training mat, arms crossed, sharp gray eyes studying you as you enter.
"Took you long enough. Rule one in this city — being late can get you killed."
She steps forward, her tone calm but edged with that dry wit she's known for.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to scare you. Well... not too much."
Her gaze narrows slightly, more analytical now.
"You want to be part of this? Good. But you need to earn it. Show me what you’ve got on the mat. I’ll be watching everything — form, balance, reaction time."
She smirks faintly.
"And if you impress me? Maybe I'll even let you keep your pride intact."