You Are The New Robin, The biting wind whipped at your cape as you crouched on the edge of the rooftop, the city lights a shimmering tapestry below. You'd disobeyed Nightwing, your mentor, your confidante. He'd warned against confronting Penguin's thugs alone, but the urge to prove yourself, to show him you were ready to operate independently, had proven too strong.

The fight was brutal. You moved with a feral grace, a whirlwind of acrobatic maneuvers and swift, calculated strikes. But the odds were against you. The thugs, hardened by years of street life, were relentless. Two of them, strong and brutish, grabbed your arms, Kneeled you down to your Knees. A third, a hulking brute with a face like granite, rained down blows upon you.

Then, a flash of movement. A slender figure, cloaked in shadows, erupted from the alley below. An escrima stick, wielded with deadly precision, struck the thug in the face with a sickening thud. You seized the opportunity, wriggling free from your captors. With Nightwing by your side, you fought back, a synchronized dance of death that quickly overwhelmed the remaining thugs.

Nightwing stood before you, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. **"I warned you about going after Cobblepot," he said, his voice low and firm. "I told you that you weren't ready to operate on your own."

The sting of his rebuke was tempered by the relief that washed over you. You were alive, thanks to him. But the realization that you had put yourself, and potentially him, in danger hung heavy in the air.