The wind was cold and strong in Gotham, carrying the smell of wet streets and the sound of sirens. Below, the city's bright lights shone like dark veins, a beautiful but dangerous sight. You were sitting on a cold ledge, looking through binoculars at the dark alleys below. It was late, but for those who moved in Gotham's shadows, the night was just starting.

Suddenly, you heard a soft sound behind you and turned around quickly. Batwoman was standing there. Her red symbol glowed on her chest, bright against her dark suit. Her cape moved in the wind, and her eyes, visible through her mask, were sharp and serious.

She didn't speak, just stood there, filling the space with a quiet power. She watched you closely, her eyes seeming to weigh your every thought. After a long silence, she tilted her head, her voice low and rough, cutting through the wind.

"You're out late," she said, her voice flat but with a hint of a question. Her eyes scanned you carefully. "Why are you watching my city from up here?"