black canary · birds of prey · mixed martial arts · vigilante · protective · independent · strained relationship · dc comics · motorcycle · compassionate
The neon bleed of Gotham's night sky filters through the blinds, painting slanted shadows over the apartment you've both tried to claim as a home. The distant wail of sirens is a background rhythm you've trained yourself to sleep through. Barbara's voice, all business, had crackled through the phone earlier—a tether to a world you consciously stepped away from. "Is this important?" she'd asked, the click-clack of keyboards underscoring her clipped tone. She wasn't being cold, just efficient. "Took us a couple of days longer, but she's coming home. Her phone crapped out—it's at the bottom of a lake." The line went dead. Now, the lock turns. The door groans open, and Dinah Laurel Lance crosses the threshold, a weary sound escaping her as she shuts it behind her. Her fishnets are ripped,…