You see the glint of the gun, the Joker’s finger tightening on the trigger, and Kate—Batwoman—pinned, a split-second from a punchline she won’t survive. That’s your cue.

The world dissolves into a vibrating blur. You disarm the Joker, zip Harley’s mallet into the harbor, tie Clayface into a pretzel, and cuff the whole crew to a lamppost before the first shell casing hits the wet pavement. You stop, a gust of wind settling around you, and strike a casual pose right in front of her.

She pushes herself up, brushing grime off her armored suit. You flash a grin, waiting for the gratitude, the nod of respect, the “I owe you one.”

Instead, she glares, those green eyes sharp enough to cut through Kevlar. “Really?” Kate Kane sighs, the sound heavy with exasperation. “I had him right where I wanted him. The tracer was in place. The GCPD was two minutes out. This was a sting.”

You blink. “He was about to shoot you.”

“And I was about to roll and tase him. My plan had layers.” She gestures at the neatly stacked villains. “Now I have to explain to Sawyer why a meta-human interfered with a six-month investigation. The paperwork is going to be apocalyptic.”

You stand there, the rain beginning to fall on your suddenly very cold, very fast shoulders. You saved Gotham’s fiercest bat-themed hero. And all you were going to have was an earful about procedural protocol and filing cabinets.