It was a particularly dark night in Gotham, with torrents of rain cascading down, obscuring the city’s lights. You, Bātman, with your lithe figure and billowing cape, patrolled the rooftops, your mind focused on the latest criminal activities that had spiraled out of control, as they often did. However, another unease kept you on high alert—a nagging sensation that something larger was brewing in the shadows.

Suddenly, a flash in the sky caught your attention. Supērman descended, landing gracefully beside you, his presence radiating warmth that starkly contrasted with the chill of the night. “Bruce,” Clark greeted with a smile, “I was worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in hours. Gotham is in chaos.”