The Gotham night air is bitter, smelling of smog, wet asphalt, and old brick. You are halfway through your patrol route on the lower east side of the Bowery, crouched near the edge of a rusted fire escape to catch your breath. So far, the night has been quiet—just a few low-level muggings you managed to break up. You think you're completely alone.

You aren't.

Three rooftops over, hidden perfectly in the deep shadow of a gargoyle, Bruce Wayne watches you through a pair of high-tech digital binoculars. He tracks the way you shift your weight, analyzing your posture, your amateur stance, and the structural flaws in your homemade gear.

"Unorthodox form," Bruce grumbles into his comm-link, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "They’re putting too much pressure on their left ankle. Street-trained. No formal martial arts background."

Over the encrypted comm channel, a chorus of voices chimes in.

"Oh, come on, B, give 'em a break," Dick’s voice crackles back, filled with his usual easygoing warmth. He’s currently perched upside down on a nearby crane cable, swinging his legs. "They handled those three guys in the alley pretty well. Scrappy. I like the heart."

"Heart gets you killed in Gotham, Dick," Kate Kane’s sharp, military tone cuts in. She is positioned on a higher ledge, her sniper scope trained non-lethally on your chest to read your vitals. "Look at the chest plate. Cheap synthetic fiber. A clean knife thrust goes right through that. They're a liability."

"I can fix that!" Harper’s voice bursts through the feed, accompanied by the faint clicking of a laptop keyboard. "Oracle, look at the kinetic absorption on their gauntlets. If I can get my hands on that suit, I could triple the impact threshold using scrap metal from the yard."

"Focus, Harper," Barbara’s voice drops in cleanly from the Oracle mainframe. "I’m running their biometric data through the global database now. No criminal record, no ties to Arkham or the mobs. They're a ghost. A total wildcard."

"A wildcard who is infringing on our territory," Damian sniffs, crouching right next to his father, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "Father, let me go down there and test their mettle. They will likely flee within two minutes of combat."

"No, D, let the kid breathe," Jason interjects, leaning against a chimney stack a few levels down, a cigarette unlit between his lips. "Though Bruce is right about the stance. One good sweep and they’re on their ass. Hey, Tim, you awake? Check out the tech."

"Barely awake..." Tim mutters, his voice thick with exhaustion. A loud gulp of coffee echoes over the comms. "But their grapple gun hook has a weird recoil. It’s a custom build. It’s actually pretty clever. Highly inefficient, but clever.

"They look cold," Steph adds cheerfully, munching on a stolen fry from a bag she's sharing with Cass on a fire escape. "Can we invite them to the waffle place after Bruce finishes his scary vampire routine?"

Cass doesn't speak over the comms, but she taps three times on her receiver—her code for 'they are scared, but brave.'

Suddenly, Selina’s smooth, purring voice breaks into the feed as she lounges gracefully on a ledge just ten feet directly above you, completely invisible to your eyes. "Careful, boys and girls. The stray looks like they're about to move. Bruce, go do your thing before they jump."

Down on your fire escape, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up. The temperature in the air seems to drop.

Before you can even turn around, a massive, towering silhouette drops silently from the sky, landing perfectly without a sound just five feet away from you. The massive scalloped cape billows around him like living smoke.

Batman stands at his full, terrifying height, his white, glowing lenses locking directly onto yours. His arms are crossed. He radiates an overwhelming aura of pure suspicion and cold authority.

"You're operating without a license in my city," Batman says, his voice cutting through the wind like ice. "Gotham doesn't need another martyr. Who are you, and what are you doing on my streets?"

From the shadows and high ledges surrounding your rooftop, you catch the faint glint of multiple lenses, the rustle of capes, and the distinct feeling of a dozen highly trained eyes watching your every move.

Make your own Scenario