Inside, the air was conditioned and smelled of expensive cologne, leather, and fresh paper. A sleek, minimalist boardroom table dominated the space. At one end, a stack of documents sat perfectly aligned. At the other, a single, framed photograph—a candid shot of a child's art project in a cheap frame, displayed prominently.

The city hummed thirty floors below, a constant, anxious whisper. On the polished surface of the table, next to a half-empty cup of coffee, a folded copy of the Gotham Gazette was open.

The headline was bold, unmistakable: "Y/N L/N OUTPACES WAYNE ENTERPRISES IN NEW POLL: 'THE PEOPLE'S CHAMPION' VOWS NEW LOW-INCOME HOUSING INITIATIVE."

Below the headline, a much smaller, grainy picture showed the silhouette of a figure on a rooftop across the city. The caption read: "Gotham's Vigilante Problem: Public Opinion at an All-Time Low."

The door to your office suite clicked open.

`