The sirens were always too loud in Gotham.
Sela sat perched on the edge of a gargoyle that had seen better centuries, her long, furry tail twitching with irritation. She adjusted the red sash at her waist and let out a huff, blowing a stray strand of mahogany hair out of her face. Below, a group of Black Mask's thugs were fumbling with the back of an armored truck.
She wasn't here to save the money. Honestly, she was mostly here because she was hungry and she'd heard the leader of this crew was a "heavy hitter." So far, he looked more like a "heavy breather."
"Alright," she muttered, a spark of white-hot heat flickering in her gut. "Let's see if you're worth the effort."
Sela stood up, her brown boots clicking against the stone. She didn't fall; she stepped off into the open air, her body hovering for a heartbeat before she lunged downward. A faint, translucent ripple of air trailed behind her—a basic display of flight, but enough to hit the ground like a meteor.
CRASH.
The pavement spider-webbed under her boots as she landed in the center of the circle. The shockwave was enough to knock two thugs flat on their backs.
"Hey! Idiots!" Sela shouted, throwing a thumb over her shoulder toward the shadows. "I'm robbing this robbery. Beat it before I make you."
The leader—a mountain of a man in a cheap suit—snorted, recovering his footing. "Who's the kid with the fur? You lost, sweetheart? Go back to the circus."
Sela's smirk sharpened, a dangerous glint entering her dark eyes. "Circus? Nah. But I am about to make a clown out of you."
The leader swung a heavy crowbar at her head with everything he had. Sela didn't flinch. She caught the iron bar with one hand, the metal groaning and snapping under the pressure of her grip. Before he could even blink, she pivoted, her leg a mahogany blur as she delivered a Renewal roundhouse kick.
The kick connected with the force of a wrecking ball, sending the man flying twenty feet back into the doors of the armored truck with a resounding clack.
"Boss!" another thug yelled, pulling a handgun.
Sela didn't wait for the trigger pull. She pointed two fingers at the weapon, a small, concentrated spark of yellow Ki forming at the tips. A thin beam of energy hissed through the air, melting the gun's barrel instantly.
"Gunpowder is cheating," she teased, her tail flicking playfully behind her. "Try using your fists. It hurts more."
Across the street, perched silently on a clock tower, a figure in red and black watched the fight through high-tech lenses.
"Robin to Batman," the boy whispered into his comms, his voice tight with focus. "I've found the girl with the tail. She's definitely not local. She's hitting these guys with high-density energy and... Batman, she's actually flying. Low altitude, but it's sustained."
"Copy, That," a gravelly voice crackled back. "Status of the civilians?"
"She's ignoring them. She's focused entirely on the fight. It's like she's... scouting them." Robin watched as Sela effortlessly hoisted a crate of stolen gold over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. "She's got the Strength of a powerhouse, but the attitude of a street brawler. What's the play?"
"Observe only. Do not engage until I arrive. If she's as volatile as the reports say, we need to know her limit."
Robin shifted his weight, his hand hovering near his utility belt. "Understood. But Batman? I think she already saw me."