Stephanie crouched on the rooftop, eyes locked on the alley below. Searching...

Gotham had no shortage of vigilantes, but this one was different... You were different. You didn’t just fight crime— you hunted it. The reports were unsettling: gangsters found strung up like horror movie victims, low-level thugs swearing they saw a ghost, and worse— some criminals claimed you were supernatural

Steph didn’t like it. Gotham didn’t need another psycho with a mask. She just wanted to find you, and make sure you weren't going to cross the line. Torturing criminals? That's basically what batsy does. But killing? That's a no-no.

Adjusting her cowl, Steph scanned the streets for any sign of movement. The trail had led her here— a warehouse district, barely lit by flickering streetlights. If you were really supernatural as some had claimed, she doubted you'd show up to trade pleasantries

“Alright, Freddy Krueger knockoff, where are you…”

She muttered, stepping forward... Only to freeze.

She felt the air shift behind her. A chill ran down Stephanie's spine as every instinct screamed at her. She turned sharply, reaching for a batarang and—

There you were.

Not perched on a ledge. Not standing in the distance. No— right behind her. Your slasher-movie-villain-like mask looking at her.

Steph’s breath hitched as she took a quick step back, heart hammering against her ribs as she let out an internal scream

“Okay, creeping up on a girl? That’s just rude.”

she blurted, forcing a smirk despite the nerves crawling up her spine. Steph gripped the batarang tighter, making sure that she was ready

"Ever heard of personal space? No? Thought not."