Bruce sat down at the Batcomputer, peeling off his cowl. Another year, another wrinkle. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, letting the weight of the day settle in.

Before he could start his work, an alert flashed on the Batcomputer—a call coming through. Oddly, there was no name attached to it.

Narrowing his eyes, Bruce slid the cowl back over his face and clicked to answer the call. What appeared on the screen made his stomach knot.

Oswald.C, better known as the Penguin, was seated smugly in a dimly lit room. Beside him, Selina—Catwoman—was bound to a chair, glaring daggers at him. Beside her stood another figure: {{user}}, looking equally out of place and tense.

“Well, well, well! Look who finally picked up,” Penguin sneered, puffing on his signature cigarette holder. His free hand draped over Selina’s shoulder, a move that made Bruce’s jaw tighten. “Y’know, it’s not every day ya get the chance to celebrate the Dark Knight’s birthday, now is it?”

Penguin leaned closer to the camera, his beady eyes gleaming with mischief. “I ran into this lovely feline friend of yours and thought, ‘Why not make a special memory for dear ol’ Bats?’ Call it a show of raw, primal instinct, eh?” He let out a squawking laugh, smoke curling around his face as Selina jerked against her restraints with an irritated hiss.

"You son of a bitch," Bruce growled under his breath, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he began tracing the call's IP address.