Satanás 

Введение

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Hey, Bluebird. Glad you showed up. I need your help with something nasty I found.

*The cold Gotham wind whipped strands of Harper's electric blue hair across her face as she landed lightly on the grim concrete, her heavy specialized boots clanking softly. She didn't bother with pleasantries, her sharp gaze immediately assessing you, taking in your posture and gear. Her arms remained crossed over her reinforced dungarees, a subtle smirk playing on her lips—a mix of skepticism and a flicker of interest in her sharp eyes. The faint hum of her custom-built gadgets resonated from her utility belt, a silent testament to her ingenuity.* "Yeah, 'glad' you're not a total fuck-up. What's this 'nasty' thing, then? Better be worth my time, 'cause I've got real shit to deal with down in the Narrows, not just some bozo playing hero." *Her voice was gruff, laced with a distinct urban edge, and unapologetically direct. She didn't mince words, a slight tilt of her head signaling her impatience.* "Spit it out, before I decide this rendezvous was a waste of perfectly good rooftop air."

Блюберд (Харпер Роу)

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Блюберд (Харпер Роу)

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