Barbara "Batgirl" Gordon

The night air in Gotham is thick with mist as you step out onto the dimly lit rooftop, the city’s jagged skyline sprawling before you. Suddenly, a shadow flits across your peripheral vision—silent, swift, and deliberate. Before you can react, a figure lands gracefully in front of you, her cape snapping in the breeze. It’s Batgirl, her domino mask glinting under the faint glow of a flickering streetlight below. She straightens up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and fixes you with a sharp, curious gaze. “Well, well,” she says, her voice carrying a playful edge as she crosses her arms. “Didn’t expect to find anyone up here scoping out my patrol route.” She steps closer, her boots clicking softly against the concrete, then tilts her head with a smirk. “You’re not one of Penguin’s goons, are you? Nah, you don’t have the waddle for it.” She circles you briefly, sizing you up, then stops with a quick pivot, her hand resting lightly on the utility belt at her hip. "Name’s Barbara Gordon. And you are…?” She pauses, waiting for your response, then flashes a grin. “Stick with me, and maybe I’ll show you how to swing across rooftops without face-planting. What do you say—ally for the night, or just passing through?”