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 - Shattered Trust, Bloody Ruins
Tearing through the darkness—the shriek of rusted iron.
Abandoned amusement park. Starlight Park.
A dreamland rotted by eight long years. Now a stage for madness. The Ferris wheel's skeleton stabs the night sky like a black grave marker.
At its peak—
Silver hair dances in the wind.
Kathy. Suspended. Wires bite into both ankles. Blood drips. Twenty-five meters above ground. A fall means death.
"[scared]Barbara—!!"
Her scream echoes through the ruins.
Beneath the Ferris wheel.
Barbara clenched her fists. The Batsuit's Kevlar groans in the night wind. Left, right, ahead—clown masks. Metal bat. Chain. Stun gun. Four thugs, slowly tightening the circle.
No escape route.
No time.
—No choice but to move.
"[cold]Get out of my way."
Her voice rumbles low inside the mask.
The thugs laughed.
Barbara took a deep breath. Her ribs ache. Wounds from last night's fight. But—it doesn't matter.
Right hand to her hip.
She draws the grapple gun.
Aim for the man's wrist straight ahead.
She fired.
Thwip.
The wire howls, tearing through air. Hit. It coils around his wrist. She yanked with everything she had.
"Gwah!"
The man's body sails through the air. Slammed into the ground. The dull crunch of shattering bone.
One down.
—But.
Behind her.
A presence.
Faster than she could turn—
Thud.
The metal bat smashed into her right flank.
"Gahh...!"
The impact rips through the Kevlar. Breath chokes off. Her vision strobes white. Searing pain shoots through her ribs. Fractured—no, just cracked. But the agony is the same.
Her knees buckled.
Hands hit the pavement.
"[laughing]Gotcha, Batgirl baby!"
The second one approaches, laughing.
A kick flies in.
Straight to the face.
Can't dodge.
Crack.
The full-face mask screams and shatters. The right half breaks away, exposing Barbara's bare face. Scars. An old crescent-shaped wound surfaces on her left temple.
"Hey, not a bad-looking face at all."
The man launches another kick.
Barbara rolled. Gravel scrapes her cheek. Pain. But—can't stop. Stop and she'll take more.
Rising, she throws a left straight.
Solar plexus.
Solid hit.
"Guhh!"
The man doubles over. She drives an elbow into the back of his skull.
Thwack.
Second one, silenced.
—Two left.
No—the third is already in front of her.
"Stay down!"
Stun gun. Blue-white sparks tear through the dark. Barbara twists aside with a half-turn. But—
The fourth from behind.
He grapples her.
An arm locks around her neck. Tightening. Her airway collapses. Breathing stops.
"Gh...!"
No voice comes out.
The third one inches closer. Resets the stun gun—presses it against her side.
Bzzt.
Current rips through her entire body.
Muscles contract. Her body convulses, beyond her will. The pain is different. A searing from the inside, like her nerves themselves are being crushed.
Can't even scream.
The fourth releases his arm.
Barbara crumples to the ground. Her limbs refuse to obey, deadened by the shock. Fingertips twitch and tremble.
—Move.
She lifts her head.
The Ferris wheel.
At the top, Kathy desperately tries to free herself from the wires. Silver hair disheveled. Pale hazel eyes wide with terror. Even from this distance, she can tell. She's crying.
Watching.
Watching her.
—Move. Move. Move!!
Barbara crawled.
Every time her flank scrapes the ground, pain screams. Her ribs grind. The Batsuit's chest armor warps, Kevlar fibers tearing with a grating shriek.
She reaches out.
Toward the Ferris wheel's wire.
Three more meters.
—Two more meters.
At that moment.
Thud.
The third man drops his full weight onto Barbara's back.
"Gu... ah...!"
Every ounce of air is crushed from her lungs. Her ribs grind further. Pinned to the ground, her face presses into the dirt. The taste of soil, rust, and blood—no, no taste. Just the sensation spreading through her mouth.
Her limbs are numb.
No strength left.
—Kathy.
She meant to say it aloud. But all that escaped her throat was a ragged breath.
"[laughing]Ha-ha-ha-ha!!"
Laughter.
A shrill madness that shreds the air.
The thugs' movements stop.
Barbara can't lift her head. Pinned to the ground, she only shifts her gaze toward the voice.
The broken fountain on the center stage.
A white suit floats in the darkness.
Joker.
Green hair sways in the damp wind. Scars slashed from the corners of his mouth—a Glasgow smile. Murky yellow-green eyes, laughing yet constricted.
In his hand, a megaphone mic.
Slowly, he approaches.
Footsteps hammer against Barbara's eardrums.
Joker stops in front of Barbara. Looks down. Just a glance—the kind of look you'd give roadside trash.
Then, he raised his head.
Toward the Ferris wheel's peak.
"[cold]Now then, Kathy."
His voice resonates quietly through the megaphone. Low, cold, yet strangely gentle.
"[cold]Tell your friend everything."
Barbara's heart jolted.
What—
Atop the Ferris wheel, Kathy trembles. Her lips move. But no voice reaches them.
Silence.
Seconds pass.
Joker's smile never falters.
"[whispers]Don't you want to know about your sister yet?"
With those words—
She saw it. Kathy's body shook violently.
And then.
Her voice.
Echoes through the megaphone, across the entire ruined park.
"[crying]I... I got close to Barbara on orders from Casa Notturna."
Barbara's breath stopped.
"[crying]Our meeting at the university café—it was all arranged. The Chronocodex intel—the side effects' progression, Barbara's action plans, Batgirl's equipment. I reported everything to the organization."
Her voice trembles.
"[crying]I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Kathy's voice breaks with tears.
Barbara remains pinned to the ground—listening.
The pain in her body fades away.
In its place, something cold spreads deep in her chest.
Betrayal.
That night. Olive Ground. The late-night café. The voice that said, "[gentle]It's okay. I won't let you go alone."
The face that smiled and said, "[gentle]No. This became our fight."
All of it—was a lie.
Joker looked down at the scene with deep satisfaction.
"[laughing]Go on, go ooon."
"[crying]I had... a sister. Maria Kane. She died in Gotham three years ago. Officially, an accident—caught up in a robbery. But—"
Kathy choked on her words.
Joker continues for her.
"[gentle]The truth is, she was eliminated by the Venova Syndicate during a Casa Notturna mission."
Barbara's eyes widened.
"[laughing]And the one who put out that contract—was yours truly! Joker baby!!"
Joker spread his arms wide. Like the star of the stage.
"[cold]You see, I made a deal with little Kathy. Get close to Barbara Gordon. Provide every scrap of Chronocodex intel. Do that—and I'd hand over the truth and evidence about her sister's death."
A dry sound.
Something inside Barbara snapped completely.
Kathy—for the truth about her sister—betrayed her.
"[laughing]Humans are fascinating, aren't they? Ha-ha-ha-ha!! For the sake of someone precious, they'll sell out someone else precious!"
Laughter echoes through the ruins. High, low, a dissonant chord of madness.
Joker's yellow eyes look down at Barbara.
"[cold]This is the result of the experiment, Barbara dear. A human who knows the future struggles, is betrayed by the one she desperately believed in, and breaks apart—. Don't you think it's the ultimate art?"
Barbara says nothing. Can't say anything.
The weight of the thug pinning her down. Fractured ribs. Numb limbs.
But—that pain no longer matters.
More than that.
Deep in her chest.
It was empty.
No anger. No sadness. She feels nothing.
Just—nothing.
Emotions, vanishing.
Temporal Erosion. The side effect of the precognition book. Its final stage—was now complete.
Joker didn't miss the change.
"[whispers]...Oh my? Broken already? Too soon. I thought you'd entertain me more."
He shakes his head, disappointed.
Then, he signaled the thugs with a glance.
"[cold]I'm bored. Let's go."
The weight pinning her down vanishes.
The four thugs pull away from Barbara. Joker, too, fades into the darkness.
"[laughing]Let's play again sooon! The next stage will be fun too, I promise!"
The laughter recedes.
—No one left.
The wind through the ruins makes the rusted Ferris wheel groan.
Mechanical sounds. The wires loosen, and Kathy is slowly lowered to the ground.
Her footsteps approach.
"[crying]Barbara... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please listen, I—"
Barbara doesn't lift her head.
She lies face down, hands still on the ground.
"[crying]Please, look at me. I truly—"
"[sad]Don't come near me."
A voice so flat, it surprised even herself.
Kathy's feet stop.
"[crying]...Barbara."
"[sad]Don't come near me."
She repeats the same words.
No emotion.
But—tears alone spill from the cracks in her mask.
They trace down her cheek.
Cold or warm—she can't tell.
That symbolized everything, now.
She can't even feel the temperature of her own tears.
"[crying]I'm... sor..."
Her voice trembles.
Then—slowly, Kathy's footsteps fade away. Heading toward the exit.
Barbara doesn't follow. No words to stop her come out.
Complete silence.
Only the sound of the wind.
How long did she stay like that?
Barbara slowly raised her body.
She removes the broken mask.
Her face, smeared with blood and mud, is exposed to the cold night air. Red hair clings to her forehead with sweat. Green eyes are bloodshot, yet unfocused.
She lifts her head.
The sky.
Gotham's overcast sky. No stars. No moon. Only the light pollution of streetlamps, stained a dull orange.
She tried to stand—at that moment.
At her feet, a small glint.
A reflection.
Barbara drops her gaze.
Kathy's crescent moon pendant.
The chain snapped, lying on the rubble. Must have caught and broken when she was suspended by the wires.
Barbara picked it up.
No sensation in her palm. But mechanically, her fingers close around the pendant.
The streetlight faintly illuminates it.
On the back—scratches.
A sequence of numbers, finely etched.
Eight digits.
Barbara stared at it. She doesn't know the meaning. But—
Kathy's pendant, lying here.
Coincidence?
No.
(It's not.)
In her emotionless body, only the last remaining instinct told her so.
Barbara pulled out her smartphone. She launches the digital camera and takes a close-up of the numbers. Only the mechanical click echoes through the ruins.
Shooting done, she pockets the smartphone.
The pendant goes into her Batsuit pocket.
She stands.
Her ribs grind. Her flank throbs. Her limbs are still numb.
One step forward.
Another step.
Dragging her broken suit, Barbara headed for the park's exit.
Behind her, the rusted Ferris wheel groans in the wind.
The sound—was like the final scream of a broken gear.
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