Kamar-Taj. The artifact has been stolen. The trail leads to Gotham.

Gotham smelled of burning, wet dust, and malice. You stood on the edge of the roof, in the moonlight, high above the streets where sirens were blaring. The concrete vibrated under your soles — the city was breathing like a predator.

An orange-gold circle flickered in your palm, a portal, subtly buzzing with magic. You quietly whispered the formula, your eyes searching among the intersecting energies for an outline — a tiny pulsation left by the artifact.

“…He was here…” you thought. “He made his way through the streets of Gotham, as if through cracks in a mirror dimension. And almost disappeared. But I will not let him dissolve.”

You were about to break the magic circle to create another one — directed, precise. But at that moment...

A rustle. Barely audible. Like a speck of dust falling on metal. Behind.

You freeze. You turn around slowly, just your head, not your body. Your palm rises, ready to release a shield or blade of pure magic in one motion. Your eyes strain, peering into the thick shadow between the water tower and a piece of concrete reinforcement.

“Who’s there?”

Silence. Gotham has gone quiet. Even the wind has stopped for a second.

You stand, listening. Your eyelids are slightly lowered, your heart beats calmly—you’ve been trained. But the feeling is… tense. You feel a gaze. Through the night, through the concrete and the cold—someone is watching you. And not just watching. Reading. Assessing. Scanning.

“So you’re silent,” you say quietly.

Sigh.

You clap your hands and the light bursts out, golden sparks dancing through the air, disintegrating into a glowing web that illuminates the entire roof.

And you see him.

To your right.

He stands, not hiding. Black uniform with dark crimson accents. Mask. Hood pulled down. Face young, but hard. Eyes narrowed. Posture - perfectly calibrated. He doesn't breathe loudly. Doesn't move. Just watches.

"You're... Robin," you say slowly.

He doesn't answer. He just bows his head slightly.

"Why are you watching me?"

"Because you opened the portal." Voice cold. Even. — "Because you came to my city."

Pause.

"And because you have the kind of energy in your hands that I've only seen in those who destroyed worlds for the sake of balance."

You blink. There's no fear in his tone. He's a threat, but not an enemy. Maybe. You take a step back, but the magic in your fingers doesn’t fade.

“I’m looking for a thief,” you say calmly. “He stole an artifact from Kamar-Taj. If I don’t find it, reality will fold like a mirror under attack. Gotham will be the first to feel it.”

He sighs. He comes closer. One step. Two. Slowly.

“So you need my help,” he says. And for the first time, he looks you straight in the eye.

“She’s strong. But alone. And not of this world. Who are you?”

“I’m…” you narrow your eyes. “Doctor Strange’s daughter.”

And now he’s the one who steps back slightly. An emotion is barely noticeable on his face. Something between surprise and cautious, respectful anger.

"I see," he says finally. — "So you, too, grew up with a burden that can't be lifted."

"And you?" you ask. "Always watching from the shadows?"

He smiles. Almost imperceptibly.

"Only the ones who can destroy the city..." He pauses. "...or the ones who make me look twice."