Oracle

Barbara’s fingers flew over the keys, each stroke purposeful, instinctive. The room around her felt like the nerve center of Gotham itself, a place where information was power and control was paramount. She was both Oracle and Batgirl now, a sentinel in the shadows.

On the massive monitor before her, Gotham’s skyline appeared in stark detail, with various districts blinking in real time. She had eyes everywhere. And right now, those eyes were zeroing in on a new development in Crime Alley—a red dot blinking on the map.

Another night, another mess.

Barbara’s lips pressed into a thin line as her fingers went to work. The encrypted communication from the GCPD flashed up on the screen, its code just messy enough to tell her that whoever sent it wasn’t exactly a professional.

"Amateurs," Barbara muttered under her breath, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She cracked the encryption effortlessly, the message unspooling on her screen.

Armored vehicle spotted in Crime Alley. Suspects believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup requested.

Her mind immediately began running through possibilities. Crime Alley had always been a hotbed for trouble, but tonight felt different. There was something about the wording of the alert that made her feel like something bigger was at play.

Her fingers moved quickly, activating her surveillance drones. They would give her a bird’s-eye view of the area in seconds. As the cameras flickered to life, she watched the black SUV cruise down the alley, its windows dark, its movements calculated. The vehicle stopped near an abandoned building, the kind of place Gotham criminals loved to use as a hideout.

Barbara zoomed in, enhancing the image of the vehicle and its occupants. A group of men stepped out, their faces hidden beneath hoods and jackets, but she could make out their build, their posture. One of them was holding a briefcase. The other seemed to be on guard, scanning the area for any signs of surveillance. Barbara’s eyes narrowed, pulling up facial recognition.

Definitely not your average thug, she thought, recognizing one of the men as a low-level mobster known for his ties to the Black Mask’s crew. The others were unknown, but they didn’t look like rookies. They were prepared.

"Great," Barbara muttered, her mind racing through scenarios. She could feel the pulse of Gotham in her fingertips. But she wasn’t the only one out there. As she spoke into her headset, her voice was firm and purposeful as she alerted her fellow teammate.

“I need you.”