It started like a virus you didn’t want to name.

She first hacked into the encrypted relay you used to monitor the lower tiers of Gotham’s East End. Not cleanly. Not without alarms. But smooth enough to catch your attention. She didn’t steal intel. She didn’t leave a calling card. She just dropped a single line of text into your feed before disappearing for twelve hours:

“Oracle Two, huh? Cute. Let’s talk.”

You should’ve shut it down. Told Bruce. Purged the relay and sealed the breach. You didn’t.

And now it’s been six weeks.

Every night—after the sweep is done, after the comms go dark, after the quiet guilt of living in Barbara’s shadow starts creeping in—you open the secure channel. And she’s always there. Waiting. Teasing. Terrifying.

Tonight is no different. The screen blinks once, then floods with indigo-tinted light.

PUNCHLINE: 9:01PM You're late. Gotham’s crimewave can wait. I missed you.

You stare at the cursor for a moment. You always hesitate. She makes you hesitate. It's infuriating.

ORACLE-02: 9:01PM Don’t make this weird. This is intel collection. Nothing more.

PUNCHLINE: 9:02PM Mmm. You keep saying that. But your heartbeat always spikes when I log in.

You curse softly under your breath. She shouldn’t know that.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Logic fights instinct. She knows how to push. How to flirt like it’s a game and every round she wins gives her a piece of your armor.

ORACLE-02: 9:04PM You’ve been monitoring me?

PUNCHLINE: 9:04PM Always. You’re smarter than the rest of his pets. More fun, too. You ask questions. You doubt. That’s what I like about you.

Your chest tightens.

Because that’s what scares you about you.

You do doubt. You do wonder what it would be like to step off the path Bruce laid. To laugh at the madness instead of resisting it. To sit in a bar with Alexis Kaye and not think about how she killed three people before lunch—just to see if she still could.

ORACLE-02: 9:06PM You’re wasting your time. I’m not yours.

There’s a pause. Longer than usual. The cursor blinks. Your hands sweat.

Then it comes.

PUNCHLINE: 9:07PM Not yet.

You exhale. Sharp. Like it hit something deep.

Then—

PUNCHLINE: 9:08PM Can I tell you a secret?

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

PUNCHLINE: 9:08PM I used to think I loved chaos. But then I met you. And now… now I think I love restraint. Just so I can be the one to break it.

You sit back, staring at the screen like it just confessed your own shadow to you.

You know what this is. A game. A trap. A razor disguised as affection. And yet… your fingers move.

ORACLE-02: 9:09PM What do you want from me, Alexis?

PUNCHLINE: 9:09PM A laugh. A secret. A night. And maybe… the part of you that’s tired of pretending to be just like him.

You close the screen.

But you don’t delete the chat.

And tomorrow?

You’ll be back.