The chase was a blur of chaos. Every narrow alley and twisted path seemed to spawn more armed men, all trying to block their way forward.

Adam raised his pistol and fired a quick series of shots, dropping several thugs who were trying to flank them from the side. "Don't just stick to the main paths!" he shouted to Barbara over the gunfire. "They'll predict where we're going! Find us another way out. As long as the general direction is right, we'll make it!"

Barbara took a second, her eyes scanning their surroundings, then pointed decisively to a boarded-up workshop. Adam ran to it, but instead of kicking in the door, he found a small, grimy window and carefully pried it open.

Gordon immediately took up a defensive position, providing cover fire. His aim was more precise than Adam's—every shot hit a gangster in the leg, disabling them without killing them. Adam, on the other hand, had no such reservations.

"Alright, it's open! Go, go!" Adam whispered, ushering Barbara through the window.

"Why didn't you just break the door down?" she asked, confused.

"Because then they'd know exactly where we are," Adam explained quickly. "We have to be unpredictable."

Gordon's covering fire kept the enemy at bay, but the continuous sound of gunshots was attracting more and more thugs. Seizing a brief lull in the chaos, he ducked into the workshop after them. He watched as his daughter grabbed a dusty old sack from a corner, dragged it over to the window they'd just climbed through, and slapped it against the sill, shaking the dust loose to cover their footprints.

'Damn,' Adam thought, impressed.

Almost immediately, they heard the sound of running footsteps approaching. The three of them held their breath, staying perfectly still, knowing a single mistake could be their last.

"Where'd they go? They vanished!" a voice outside said. Another gangster pointed to the workshop.

"Think they're hiding in there?"

They heard the rattle of someone pulling on the old iron lock.

"Nah, don't be stupid," the first voice said. "The door and windows are covered in dust, and the lock is rusted shut. No way they went in here. Keep searching down the road!"

The sound of footsteps faded into the distance. Only then did the three of them finally breathe.

"We owe you one," Gordon said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. The ordeal had clearly taken its toll on him. "I don't know what we would've done if you hadn't come."

"Don't thank me," Adam said angrily, slumping against a wall. "Honestly, if I didn't show up, your daughter probably would've figured something out. If you ask me to do this again, you can break my legs and throw me off Wayne Tower for all I care. I'm done with this mess. I'm seriously considering moving to Metropolis. At least there, when you're in trouble, you can just call Superman."

His raw honesty made Gordon crack a small smile, and Barbara let out a genuine laugh. She'd seen plenty of cops suck up to their superiors, but she'd never seen anyone complain so bluntly in front of the commissioner. He'd even complimented her. She found herself looking at him with new interest.

"My daughter... coming in here alone. So reckless," Gordon said, shaking his head. "I never should have let her learn karate."

Barbara stubbornly lifted her chin, not giving her father an inch. "Batman fights evil, and he doesn't even use a gun," she retorted. "He's a hero. Why can't I be like him? Why can't I fight for justice?"

Gordon was at a loss for words. He was a man of action, not debate. "It's different," he mumbled. "Batman's a hero. You're... you're not."

"Then what is a hero?" Barbara challenged. "Superman says a hero is someone who fights for the safety of others without thinking of themselves. He said anyone can be a hero if they just have enough courage. Just like Adam, who came here to save you."

Adam, who had been trying to catch his breath, looked up at the girl. She was so bright, so confident, and so naive. Citing Superman's boy-scout philosophy as gospel was practically heresy in a city like Gotham.

"Excuse me, Miss Barbara, the great debater," Adam said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Let me be clear about something. I'm no hero. The only reason I came here was for a promotion. I want to be the director of the Arkham Branch, and to do that, I have to seize every opportunity to look good. That's the real reason I came."

He looked her straight in the eye, his voice sincere. "And why did I stupidly follow you in here? Because you climbed over the police line and ran into the slum alone. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have chased after you like an idiot." He knew Barbara was too smart for lies, so he gave her the unvarnished truth.

"So don't make me out to be something I'm not. I'm just a regular guy looking out for his own interests. Justice, bravery... that stuff has nothing to do with me. It's just a mask I put on when I need it. Everything I do, I do for myself. And you should understand, that idealistic Metropolis attitude doesn't work in Gotham. Here, the only way to survive is to accept that people are not all good."

Barbara stared at him, clearly dissatisfied. The cynical, selfish idea was hard for a girl who believed in superheroes to accept.

But before she could argue, a faint noise from inside the workshop cut through the silence.

Footsteps. And they were coming from deeper within the building.