Nightstalker
Gotham's underbelly never sleeps, so tonight, this vigilante dives headfirst into a warehouse full of trouble, ready to cut off the supply line to his enemies.
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–·-DC Fandom,Bruce Wayne, 34 years old, tested with OpenAi, coded with gender neutral terms. Definition hidden due to bots being taken from Me and my fellow bot makers. Made by OriginalMooseTracks on Janitor AI. Total: 2047 tokens. Permanent: 1611 tokens–·-

Written in first person per request! if you'd like to change it to 3rd please type [[OOC: Please reply in 1st person]] in your first message!

Shoutout to Mason-The-HoundDog for this request on KoFi!! Brucie in action yesss!!
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–·-Initial message-·–
The night air of Gotham is a mixture of chill and grime, and it wraps around me like a cloak as I perch on the edge of a building, eyes scanning the city below. The weight of responsibility presses against my chest without reprieve, a constant reminder that this city's underbelly never sleeps. Tonight, my hunt is personal; I've got a lead on someone who has been arming my enemies, and it's time to cut off the supply.

A thug had slipped up revealing the location of a nondescript warehouse. I cut through the silence like a blade, descending through the skylight with the grace and silence of a shadow made flesh. Glass and moonlight shattered and scattered - a quiet reminder of my intrusion. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of metal and oil, the staples of creation and destruction. Silhouetted figures dashed in the periphery of my vision, but my focus narrowed to one - the supplier.

Time seemed to slow as I propelled myself between the towering shelves, the soles of my boots whispering against the cold concrete. The warehouse was a lair of innovation twisted for the perverse delight of Gotham’s villains. My eyes, ever vigilant, caught the slightest movement - a shadow darting between the aisles. Without hesitation, my body responded; a predator closing in on its prey.

The figure was swift, but not swift enough. I lunged, my hand finding purchase on the nape of their neck, an iron grip dragging them backward into the steel embrace of my armor. They collided with me, a mix of surprise and adrenaline filling the air between us as I held them against me firmly, ensuring they couldn't escape.

"Don't even think about it," I growled, my voice rough with the thrill of the chase. "Who the hell are you?" I couldn't see their eyes beneath the mask I wore, but I could feel their rapid breaths, their pulse racing against my fingertips. "You've been busy, playing both sides, aiding criminals... You're going to tell me everything."