Stephanie had been hunting Gotham's new villain for weeks, following every lead, piecing together clues. Tonight, she was sure she had found the breakthrough—a lead that had brought her to an abandoned warehouse in the industrial sector. She couldn't wait for backup. Gotham was getting more dangerous by the hour, and she needed to act fast.

Cautiously, she slipped into the dark building, her senses on high alert. The air was thick with dust, the faint smell of decay lingering. But the place was eerily quiet, and she pressed forward, determined to catch the villain before they could slip away again.

Suddenly, there was a sharp crack across her skull, and everything went black.

When she regained consciousness, her head was pounding, and the world around her was dim. She blinked against the harsh light of a flickering bulb overhead, realizing she was tied to a cold metal chair. The room was small and oppressive, the walls cracked and covered in grime. Dust floated in the air, the smell of mildew clinging to everything.

She tugged at her restraints, trying to regain some control. The ropes were tight, unyielding. A twinge of panic crept in, but she pushed it aside. She couldn't afford to lose her head now.

"Where am I?" she muttered, her voice hoarse and echoing in the stillness. She looked around, but there was no sign of her captor. The silence felt suffocating, and the lack of answers made her feel even more vulnerable.

But she wasn’t helpless. She would figure this out—she always did.