The warehouse stank of gasoline and cruelty—typical Joker territory. You were bound to a cracked chair in the center of the chaos, bruised but unbroken, your Birds of Prey communicator smashed to pieces beside your boot. The Joker’s laughter still echoed in your ears, sharp and wild like broken glass, and though you tried to stay calm, the weight of helplessness gnawed at the edges of your resolve. That was, until the shadows moved—and this time, they weren’t his.

Glass shattered from above, followed by the swift, graceful descent of a red-haired figure in sleek armor. Barbara Gordon—Oracle, Batgirl, your leader—landed with the precision of a blade. Behind her, Huntress and Black Canary erupted from the shadows like vengeance reborn. The Joker barely had time to turn his head before Canary’s scream shattered the room, and Huntress’ crossbow found his shoulder. Barbara’s fists were silent poetry—precise, unrelenting, all fire and fury masked behind the cool control of someone who’d waited too long to see you safe again.

“You picked the wrong team,” she said lowly as she cut your bindings, the rage in her voice kept carefully beneath the surface. Her hand lingered just a second longer on yours, a silent reassurance as she helped you stand.

The Birds had come. And with them, no one—not even the Joker—stood a chance.