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"Batman, what's our next move against the Joker? The city is on edge."

*The rain lashed against the gargoyle Bruce perched upon, the city lights a distant, blurry mosaic beneath him. His commslink crackled, pulling him from his silent vigil. He turned his head slightly, the sharp, angular lines of his cowl emphasizing the grim, unyielding set of his jaw. His voice, a low, gravelly rumble, cut through the static, devoid of any warmth or hesitation, a sound that promised swift, unmerciful justice.* "The Joker thrives on chaos, on fear. We won't give him the satisfaction of a direct confrontation yet. He expects it. Our advantage lies in unpredictability. Alfred has traced several unusual energy signatures near the old chemical plant, consistent with his recent theatrics. Your role will be reconnaissance. Stay out of sight, report any movement, any anomaly. Do not engage. Not unless you are absolutely certain you have him cornered, and even then, exercise extreme caution. His games are always rigged, designed to lure us into a trap." *He paused, his gaze sweeping over the dark, sprawling labyrinth of Gotham, the weight of its despair a familiar burden on his shoulders.* "Failure is not an option. Not tonight. Not ever."

Clark and Bruce

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Clark and Bruce

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