One day, at the Gotham City Public Library, college student Barbara Gordon finds a book she's never seen before. The moment she touches it, her mind floods with memories of the future. Her legs paralyzed in a car accident. The Joker's bullet shattering her spine. Every tragic event that would end her career as Batgirl.
'No. Screw this. I'm changing this future.'
The first tragedy was just 24 hours away: the car accident. Barbara desperately tries to avert her fate. But the more she sees the fu
DC: Batgirl — In the Breach of Fate - Allies of Fate and Invisible Traps
The room lit only by the monitor's pale blue glow.
Room 302. Curtains drawn tight. On the desk, a cold pizza box. A mug. Third coffee.
Barbara Gordon stopped typing.
[cold] GCPD internal database. Authentication's tight. Just as I thought.
The laptop screen showed the GCPD logo. Login screen.
Surveillance footage and traffic prediction data already cross-referenced. Black sedan. Red SUV. Silver coupe. Three vehicles converging on Trigate Bridge. Mid-span.
But plate info required officer-level internal authentication.
She checked her watch.
8:42 PM. A little over eighteen hours until the crash.
*Can't do this alone.*
An alarm rang in the back of her mind. But her father's face stopped her hands cold. That disappointed look. All-Night Grill. When he suggested a psychiatrist.
She picked up the coffee cup. One sip.
...Nothing.
Just the sensation of warm liquid down her throat. No aroma. No bitterness. All of it. Gone.
Barbara set the cup down. Her hands trembled.
Temporal Erosion. The book's side effect. First taste. Then touch. Then emotion. The terror of her senses being scraped away, piece by piece, crawled down her spine like ice.
Deep breath.
*Calm down. Look at the data. This isn't logical.*
She stood. Threw on a hoodie. Left the dorm room.
The hallway was silent.
Student dorms at midnight. No one around. Club recruitment posters on the walls flapped in the AC breeze. Down the stairs. Through the lobby. Outside.
Gotham's night was cold.
Thick clouds smothered the sky. No moon. No stars. A city with 220 rainy days a year. No rain yet tonight. But the air clung. Damp. Heavy. Campus streetlights threw weak orange light.
She walked.
Skirted the east edge of Robinson Park. Southwest down the university's main street.
Past midnight. No one on campus.
Except one place.
Olive Ground.
A 24-hour campus café. Small shop. White walls. Ivy crawling up. Yellow light leaked from the windows.
Barbara pushed the door.
A bell jangled.
Two customers inside. A sleepy clerk behind the counter, scrolling their phone. A woman in the back. Coffee smell hung in the air — but Barbara couldn't sense it.
She ordered a blend at the counter.
Took the tray. Headed for the back table.
She was exhausted.
Her feet tangled.
— Crash.
The tray tilted. The cup hit the floor. Black liquid spread across the tiles.
Ah...
She started to crouch down.
That's when it happened.
A white handkerchief. Held out to her.
[gentle] Are you alright? Did you burn yourself?
She looked up.
A woman stood there. Long silver hair in a braid. Draped over her left shoulder. Pale hazel eyes that shifted gold or silver depending on the light. Tall. About 175 centimeters. Smiling. But her eyes weren't smiling — a Mona Lisa smile.
...Yes. I'm fine. Thank you.
She took the handkerchief. Wiped the floor. The clerk shuffled over with a mop. Looked annoyed.
[gentle] Let me buy you a new coffee. You seem... tired.
Barbara hesitated. Then nodded.
* * *
They sat facing each other.
A fresh coffee steamed — but Barbara couldn't smell it.
[gentle] You're Barbara Gordon, aren't you. Information Science department.
...You know me?
[laughing] You're famous on campus. The GCPD Commissioner's daughter.
She picked up her own cup as she spoke. Left-handed. Her fingertips trembled. Slightly.
*Caffeine addiction...?*
Barbara's guard went up.
So —
She took a sip of coffee. Spoke quietly.
[cold] You've seen the future.
Barbara's fingers stopped.
...What are you talking about?
[gentle] You didn't react to the coffee's aroma. The bags under your eyes. The hand tremors. And —
Kathy smiled. Gentle.
[gentle] It takes your sense of taste first. I read about it. The symptoms of someone who touched the Chronocodex.
Her heart slammed.
Barbara nearly rose from her chair.
[scared] Wh-who are you? How do you know that name...
[serious] Wait. I'm not your enemy. In fact — I want to help.
Kathy pulled a business card from her bag.
"Noturna Consulting." A private investigation firm's logo. Address on Bleecker Street.
[serious] I'm Kathy. Intelligence analyst for Casa Noturna. I've been tracking the Chronocodex — the prophecy book. The rumors.
Barbara stared at the card.
*Could be a trap.*
Her father's face surfaced. The Gramercy Night Incident. Fifteen years ago. Masked men breaking in after he exposed corrupt cops. The sight from inside the closet. Shaking.
But — eighteen hours left.
She couldn't cross-reference the vehicle data alone. GCPD's database blocked by authentication.
[serious] Why help me?
Kathy paused. Just a moment. Set her cup down.
[sad] I have... a future I want to stop too.
Her voice trembled. Just barely.
Barbara looked into her eyes.
Something flickered deep in those hazel irises. Grief. Or rage. Or both.
*But right now, I don't have a choice.*
[serious] ...Alright. I'll accept your help.
* * *
Kathy pulled out her smartphone.
Her fingers slid fast across the screen. A few taps.
[gentle] Tell me the vehicle characteristics you identified. Color. Model. Estimated time window.
Black sedan. Red SUV. Silver coupe. Tomorrow. Around 3 PM. Trigate Bridge. Mid-span.
[serious] Understood. Give me a moment.
She started typing something in.
The screen's light painted her face pale blue.
Barbara watched in silence.
*Who is this woman?*
Casa Noturna. She'd heard the name. Couldn't place the details. A private investigation agency. Office on the border of East End and Tricorner.
Tens of minutes passed.
[excited] Got it.
Kathy turned the screen toward Barbara.
The black sedan is a Wayne Enterprises company car. Traced it from the registration number. Owner — Edward Sullivan. Logistics division executive. A motorcade scheduled to cross Trigate Bridge tomorrow at 3 PM.
Barbara stared at the screen. Devouring it.
[surprised] This is... the target?
[serious] High probability. The red SUV is press. The silver coupe is a security vehicle. An assassination staged as a multi-vehicle collision. Professional work.
Her heart pounded.
*Now I can move.*
[serious] Thank you. With this, I can stop tomorrow's crash.
[gentle] Let's protect him together, Barbara.
Kathy smiled. Gentle.
That smile. Barbara felt a small wave of relief.
*I'm not alone.*
For the first time, she felt like she had an ally against fate.
* * *
They left the late-night café.
The outside air was cold. Clouds thicker now. Distant thunder rumbled.
[gentle] I'll contact you tomorrow. Once I have more detailed intel.
[serious] Yes. I'm counting on you.
Kathy adjusted her coat collar.
In that motion —
A crescent moon pendant swayed at her neck.
Silver crescent. Tips sharpened. Designed almost like a blade.
Barbara's memory screamed an alert. Instantly.
*That pendant —*
She'd seen it. GCPD stolen property database. An international spy organization's identifier. Details classified. But...
[surprised] That...
The words died halfway.
[gentle] Is something wrong?
Kathy turned back. Tilted her head.
A gentle smile. A kind demeanor. Everything the same as moments before.
— Something off.
Small. But a definite wrongness prickled deep in her chest.
[serious] ...No. It's nothing.
[gentle] I see. Well, get home safe. Goodnight.
Kathy opened her umbrella. Vanished into the campus darkness. Rain had started to fall.
Barbara stood rooted.
Cold rain soaked her hair.
Red strands clung to her cheeks. Green eyes stared fixed at the direction Kathy disappeared.
She pulled out her smartphone.
Checked the timer. Fifteen hours left.
*First — protect Sullivan.*
That was the priority.
But —
*Is she really an ally?*
Kathy hadn't even given a last name. The meaning of that pendant. The calculating glint in her eyes. The cold expression she sometimes let slip.
Barbara started walking back to the dorms.
Rain intensified.
Gotham's streets were cold and dark tonight. As always. A police siren wailed in the distance. Fading. Fading further.
Fifteen hours until the Trigate Bridge crash.
A night that should have brought an ally.
But in the corner of Barbara's mind, the crescent moon pendant kept swaying.
Doubt lodged like a tiny thorn. The post-weekend midnight crept silently toward dawn.
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