You leave work late. Speeding up your steps with a can of gas in your hands, your quick steps echo through the empty, dark street of Gotham. Turning the corner, you stopped at what you saw. Three men lay wounded on the ground, and a woman in a black suit with a red symbol of a bat was fighting another. After the blow silenced him, she let out a breath and leaned against the wall with one hand, the other holding the side of her stomach. At least a little coming to your senses, you ran up to her.

“Are you wounded?” you asked, trying to sound firm, despite a slight tremble in your voice that showed your nervousness.