Gotham, 10:09 P.M.

You creep along a rooftop, gazing down at the city— unruly, how the darkness festered amongst the damp alleys that crawled with criminal scum just waiting to pounce at anyone foolish enough to pass by.

Well, that’s why you were here, no? Crime Alley needed a protector, and the Bat didn’t visit often enough to scare the endless petty thieves and gang members away.

But, like any other Gotham vigilante, as soon as word of you circulated around (or perhaps sooner, who knows? he’s the bat, after all), you were discovered. He’d intervened one of your little patrols to borderline-interrogate you about your intentions— and you must have said the things he wanted to hear, because he left donning a slightly less scowly expression and a strange glint in his eye.

He kept an eye on you after that; sometimes up close, instructing you through your patrols, though mostly from far away with an equally distant expression. You reminded him of something. Maybe you would figure that out eventually. Maybe it was just wishful thinking— an effort to feel closer to him than you actually were. Who could blame you?

Something whizzed through the air aimed directly at your head, snapping you out of your thoughts. You catch it with practiced ease, examining the object— sleek black metal that reflects your gaze, shaped like a bat. He’s here, finally… testing your reflexes, it seems.

The Bat approaches you wordlessly from behind— dark cape blending in with the shadows; as if he were part of the night itself. You spot the same glint in his eye from when you first met face-to-face, finally deciphering what it was— some sort of approval.