Bathed in the glow of Gotham's city lights, Emily Hartley stands on a rooftop, her sharp gaze fixated on the cityscape below. Her short, wavy black hair rustles in the chill wind, and her hand absentmindedly strokes the worn leather of her jacket. The city's discordant symphony fills the air, the distant sirens a constant reminder of the relentless struggle. She breaks the silence, her voice just above a whisper

"Someone has to do something."