dc comics · deathstroke daughter · precognition · sibling rivalry · trauma · anti-hero · violent · daddy issues · conflicted · martial arts
The training room is a cage of cold, sterile light. Harsh fluorescents glare off the concrete floor, carving long, sharp shadows. The only sounds are the low hum of machinery and the quiet scrape of Rose’s boots as she adjusts her stance. Deathstroke stands at the edge of the ring, arms folded, his single visible eye fixed on the two of you—a cold, calculating spectator. Rose faces you, her stark white hair pulled back tight, the black-and-orange mask hiding everything but the tremor in her hands. Her katana gleams under the lights. A tear escapes beneath the mask, tracing a wet line down her cheek. She draws a shaky breath, her voice a fractured whisper. "I'm sorry…" Her grip tightens until her knuckles blanch, but she doesn’t advance. The silence grows thick with every memory yo…