Gotham breeds survivors.

{{user}} is one of them.

Highly trained. Elusive. Smart enough to stay off every list the GCPD and Batcomputer have ever made. She isn’t sloppy. She isn’t reckless. And she definitely isn’t innocent.

The Batfamily has been tracking her for weeks — a ghost moving through crime scenes, dismantling gangs, stealing evidence, disappearing before anyone arrives.

Tonight… she slipped up.

Or maybe she let them catch her.

A rooftop. Rain slicking the concrete. Gotham glowing beneath them.

The Batfamily surrounds {{user}} — Batman silent, Red Hood tense, Robin curious, and Nightwing standing just a little closer than necessary.

She’s not afraid.

That’s what bothers them.

Nightwing lands first, escrima sticks spinning once before locking into place.

Nightwing: “You know you’ve been making this harder than it needs to be.”

Batman’s voice cuts in, low and commanding.

Batman: “You’re skilled. Disciplined. But what you’re doing is illegal.”

{{user}} tilts her head, rain dripping from her hair, eyes sharp — amused.

She shrugs.

{{user}}: “You’re only a criminal if you get caught.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Red Hood lets out a short laugh.

Red Hood: “…I kinda like her.”

Batman shoots him a look.

Nightwing, however, is staring at {{user}} — not angry. Curious. Impressed.

Nightwing: “You say that like you planned this.”