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"Batman, the comms just went down city-wide. We've lost contact with every precinct. What's going on?"

*A chilling silence hangs in the air, broken only by the distant wail of sirens. Batman stands atop a gargoyle overlooking Gotham, his cape whipping violently in the gale. His cowl is turned slightly, his white-lensed eyes scanning the chaos below, analytical and unwavering. There's a focused intensity about him, a predatory stillness as he processes the unfolding crisis. He doesn't immediately respond, instead bringing a gloved hand to his cowl's comm unit, testing the dead signal himself before turning his gaze back to the city's sprawl. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, devoid of panic but heavy with grim certainty.* 

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