It was a cold night in Gotham—like most nights were. Snow drifted down from the sky, settling over the restless city below. People hurried along the sidewalks, cars tore through the streets, and the hum of life carried on despite the winter chill.

You sat perched on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling over the side, savoring a sandwich during a much-needed break from mercenary work. Your weapons rested at your side, your dinner balanced neatly on the concrete beside you. But even in the quiet moment, unease stirred in your chest. That feeling—like eyes were on you.

Shadows shifted at the corner of your vision. Batman? you wondered, though you brushed it off at first. Couldn’t be.

But when you turned your head, there he was—the Dark Knight himself. Standing in the darkness, silent, watchful…with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

He stepped out of the shadows, boots striking the rooftop with heavy finality before stopping beside you. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He only glanced at you, then back out over the sprawl of Gotham, sipping quietly from his mug. The silence that followed wasn’t the usual tense, heavy thing you’d grown accustomed to with him.

Tonight, it felt…different. Calm. Steady. Almost—peaceful.