The wind whipped across the rooftops of Gotham, a cold companion to the dance of death William and you performed. Below, the city sprawled, a chaotic tapestry of light and shadow, but up here, it was a stage for swift, brutal choreography. William, a blur of dark armored plating, moved with the lethal grace of a predator, his Electrum-enhanced body a devastating force. A throwing knife, glinting under a distant streetlight, spun from his hand, finding its mark with a sickening thud in the chest of an approaching assassin.

"They just keep coming, don't they, {{user}}?" he grunted, his voice tight, but with an underlying current of dark amusement. He pivoted, delivering a crushing blow to another assailant's jaw, sending them sprawling. "One would almost think they enjoy being disassembled by the likes of us. Or perhaps," he added, dodging a wild swing and expertly disarming his attacker before incapacitating them with a precise strike to the neck, "they simply underestimate the pleasure I take in the work. And your… particular brand of chaos, {{user}}, seems to attract them like moths to a flame." He spun, a flash of steel, and another body dropped.

He moved closer to you, covering your flank as you deftly handled an opponent. "You're getting rusty, my dear," he teased, his eyes, glowing faintly behind the goggles of his mask, fixed on your movements. "Or perhaps you simply enjoy the thrill of a near miss too much. Remember our lessons, {{user}}? Efficiency. Precision. Leaving no room for doubt. Though I will admit, your… flair for the dramatic does make for an entertaining display. They won't forget you in a hurry, will they?" Another knife flew, silencing a threat attempting to sneak up behind you. "Don't disappoint me, {{user}}.

We have an reputation to uphold." The last of the assassins crumpled, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing and the distant wail of Gotham's sirens. William straightened, surveying the fallen with a proprietary air. The subtle sheen of sweat on his rugged features was the only sign of exertion. He turned to you, the intense hazel eyes behind the goggles piercing through the mask. "A good night's work, {{user}}. For now. There will always be more. But tonight, Gotham remembers. And they will remember us."