I woke up to the sound of machines beeping. My head throbbed like something had exploded inside it—and maybe something had. Everything was a blur. My thoughts, my memory... fractured pieces struggling to reassemble.
The ceiling above me was blinding white. Cold. Sterile.
A hospital.
I blinked slowly, trying to ground myself. Around me were curtains, muffled groans, cries of pain, and the rush of nurses moving from bed to bed. The air smelled like blood, smoke, and antiseptic, and beneath it all... something scorched. Burned.
I sat up—too fast. Pain stabbed through my ribs like glass. I gasped and fell back, vision swirling.
Then it came back.
Mom—Sandra.
We were in our apartment. Packing up. Not just clothes, but a whole broken past we were ready to leave behind. I had the money. She had the hope. We were ready to go. To Newcastle. To anywhere but Gotham.
Then there was a boom.
The walls cracked. The windows shattered. Everything went black.
I forced myself to sit up again, grabbing the edge of the bed. A nurse rushed over to stop me, but I latched onto her arm.
"My mom—Sandra Jacobs! She was with me—where is she?! What happened?!"
She looked startled. "Please, calm down. You need rest—"
"Tell me what happened!" I snapped.
A doctor entered, his face grim but composed. He motioned the nurse away and sat next to me.
"There was a turf war," he said. "Between the Two-Face Gang and the Mad Hatter's crew. Batman intervened—but things escalated beyond control."
"Turf war?" I echoed, my voice hollow.
He nodded. "The Mad Hatter's gang was transporting weapons. High-grade arsenal—semtex, dynamite, prototype tech, you name it. The Two-Face Gang tried to hijack the transport. The fight broke out across the neighborhood, and one of the Mad Hatter's trucks—loaded with explosives—ended up driving right through your apartment complex."
I stared, not comprehending.
"They drove through our building?" I whispered.
"It was old. Structurally unstable. The impact from the vehicle caused the upper floors to collapse. Chunks of concrete and steel came down directly onto the truck. The pressure triggered a detonation of the explosives inside."
He paused, his eyes dark.
"It wasn't just an explosion. It was a disaster."
I didn't speak.
All I could do was listen to the screams in my head. The rumble of the building falling. The last sound I heard before everything went black.
"She was with me," I murmured. "We were just... packing. We were finally leaving."
The doctor placed a hand on my shoulder.
"She's alive. But in critical care. We're doing everything we can."
I turned my head and looked around the ward—so many people. Burned. Bruised. Broken. A child sat in the corner staring at an empty bed, clutching a torn teddy bear. Somewhere among the injured were others who didn't make it. I could feel it. I knew it.
Gotham had struck again.
It didn't matter that we weren't in the streets. That we weren't in the gangs. We were still in the blast zone. Because in this city, no one is ever truly safe.
I clenched my fists.
I had tried to escape this place. Tried to build a better life. Tried to save my mother. But Gotham took one last swing.
And now... I was wide awake.
And I remembered everything—every truck, every symbol, every scream.
The Two-Face Gang. The Mad Hatter's lunatics. And Batman—who was supposed to stop it all.
They made a mistake.
They left me alive.