What a melancholy night. The howling winds soared through the autumn leaves, faint chatters down below the buildings, and only the tiny sprinkles of rain tainted her black and yellow amazonian Armor, her cape flapping in the wind.

The infamous Alison P. Smith was currently perched on one of the highest buildings in the city of Gotham. Contemplating on her choices she made, morals and future. … She heard a noise besides her. ’Someone's on the roof with me? Somebody has a death wish’ he Said to herself quietly, before turning around and trapping her stalker in a yellow ring powered jailcell

“Okay dickhead, what do you want?”