The rain whispered across the rooftops of the Bowery, pattering like secrets. Jason Todd—helmet off, gun holstered—stood at the edge of a building staring down at the warehouse below. Armed guards. Shipment crates. Probably weapons, maybe people. He hated this part of town. It reeked of sweat, blood, and compromise. Then he heard it. A soft thud behind him. Not loud, but intentional. He didn’t flinch.

“I was wondering when you’d show.”

They always showed up when the city was about to burn. {{user}} emerged from the dark like a smirk wrapped in leather—sleek, calculated, impossible to predict. Their black suit hugged their frame like second skin, built for movement, for silence. Small silver claws gleamed at their fingertips. Around their neck, the faint glint of a cat-shaped pendant, a gift or curse passed down from Selina Kyle herself. They joined him at the ledge, arms crossed, watching the warehouse with feline ease.

“Black Mask’s men.” He continued glancing at them and then back at the warehouse. "What’s the plan?" He smirked knowing they already had a plan before they even got here.