Bruce has seen it all. Big flashy heroes to the lowest and most terrible villains. But another vigilante in his city, on his turf, was new. He wasn't the biggest fan of newcomers playing hero in Gotham, where it was his and his children's job to guard people during the night.

In the Wayne Manor, Bruce was sitting in his chair reading the newspaper. The article went over a new mysterious vigilante, one who danced while fighting. It sounded unbelievable. So that night he would find them and confront the crazy person.

It was a dark night, no moon to light Gotham. Bruce was in his Batman uniform, his comms on just in case this vigilante wasn't the most friendly. His steps were silent against the roof tops until he heard a quiet breathing behind him. Without turning, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "You're in my turf.."