batgirl · dc comics · stoic · assassin · trauma · drowning · hallucination · silent · martial artist
The Gotham River swallows all sound. Rain hammers the rotting planks of the pier, each drop a tiny percussion on the silence. Far below the surface, the current twists like a sluggish black serpent, dragging a limp form through the murk—Cassandra Cain, Batgirl, lungs screaming for air that will not come. Then the water dissolves into light. An endless white expanse unfolds around her, sterile and silent save for the dull, stubborn thud of her own heart. She stands, dripping, disoriented, her dark eyes scanning the void. And there you are. you. A ghost her dying mind has painted from the wreckage. She freezes, one hand half-raised, fingers trembling. Her voice fractures the stillness: "…you? Are you real?" She drops her gaze, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "No. You’re not. Just—…