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 - The night I destroyed the future, the morning I chose the present.
Light bled faintly into the eastern sky.
Gotham's eternal overcast shifted. Pale blue. Faint. The thin darkness before dawn.
Starlight Park. An abandoned amusement park.
Barbara crawled out of the underground warehouse. She filled her lungs slowly. The air stank of rusted iron. Cold. No taste. Only sensation. It passed through her throat.
Her ribs creaked.
Wounds from last night's brawl. A metal bat to her right flank. Every breath burned. Her batsuit's chest armor was warped. Kevlar fibers still torn.
Barbara looked toward the park entrance.
Wrecked game booths. Faded balloon scraps. A rusted merry-go-round. It groaned in the wind.
In its shadow—two lookouts.
Clown masks. Stun guns in hand. Drowsy. But alert. Scanning the area.
Joker's men.
Barbara slipped behind the ruined merry-go-round. Her comms were dead. No outside contact. Her mask—the right half shattered in last night's fight. Her bare left temple showed an old crescent scar.
She had to do this alone.
She held her breath. Watched their movements. The moment both lookouts looked away—
Barbara ran.
Silent footsteps. Shadow to shadow. She slid behind a support beam of the old roller coaster. Her heartbeat—she couldn't feel it. But her mind was eerily calm.
The first thug yawned.
"Hey. How long we gotta stay here?"
"Till boss Joker gets back."
The moment their chatter died—
Barbara burst from behind the beam.
She circled behind Thug A. Raised her grapple gun—fired.
Thwip.
The wire screamed. It wrapped around Thug A's wrist. She yanked hard.
"Whoa—!"
The man flew. Slammed into the ground. A dull crack of bone.
One down.
Thug B spun around.
"You—!"
He charged. Stun gun raised. Blue-white sparks. Barbara twisted aside. But—
Agony in her flank.
Her body froze. Just a moment.
Thug B laughed.
"[laughing] Gotcha!"
A kick flew. Barbara rolled. Gravel scraped her cheek. Pain. But—she couldn't stop.
She crawled. Slipped into a pile of debris at the base of the old Ferris wheel. Rusted pipes. Shattered gondola fragments. A mountain of wreckage.
Thug B followed.
"[angry] You think you can run?!"
He stepped onto the debris pile—
And lost his balance.
Barbara didn't miss the opening.
She grabbed a metal pipe. Swung hard at Thug B's legs.
Crack.
"Gahh!"
He toppled. Barbara mounted him fast. Pressed the pipe to his throat.
"[cold] Don't move."
Thug B froze.
Two down. Silent.
Barbara stood. Her breath was ragged. The pain in her right flank screamed its limit. Sweat traced the crescent scar on her forehead.
But—her body moved.
Since disarming the bomb underground, sensation had been creeping back. Not fully. Not yet. But her palm gripping the debris felt the cold iron.
She looked up at the Ferris wheel.
Twenty-five meters high.
At the top—a small silhouette. Silver hair swaying in the pre-dawn wind.
Kathy.
Still alive.
Barbara headed for the wheel's machine room. She pried open the rusted door. Inside: dust. Old machine oil stench. A wall of control panels. At the center—a manual crank lever.
She grabbed it.
Both hands. All her weight. She pushed down.
Screeeeech.
The rusted machinery groaned to life. The gondola cables slowly slackened.
Barbara clenched her teeth.
Her flank screamed. Her ribs shrieked. The muscles in her arms felt ready to tear.
But—she didn't stop.
The cables lowered.
The gondola crept toward the ground.
Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten—
Thud.
The gondola touched down.
Barbara burst from the machine room.
The base of the Ferris wheel.
Kathy was climbing out. Freeing herself from the wires. Silver hair disheveled. Pale hazel eyes bloodshot. Both hands stained with blood. The fingertips of her left hand trembled faintly.
The moment her feet hit the ground—
Her eyes met Barbara's.
Silence.
Seconds.
Kathy spoke first. Her lips quivered. She failed to inhale. More than once.
"[crying] …Barbara."
Her voice cracked.
"[crying] I'm sorry. It was all my fault. Orders from the organization. A Casa Notturna mission. I got close to you. That meeting at the university café—it was all arranged. I reported everything."
She spilled the words in a rush. Her head dropped. Both hands clawed at her own arms.
Barbara stayed silent.
Kathy's tears hit the ground. Small stains.
"[crying] But—leaving you the pendant at the end… that was real. Those numbers weren't the organization's code. They were what I wanted to tell you. I… I really—"
"[sad] I won't say I forgive you."
Kathy's words died in her throat. Her face lifted. Frightened hazel eyes fixed on Barbara.
Barbara continued.
"[sad] What you did to me… I can't forgive that easily. But—"
She extended her hand.
A battered hand. Blood and mud. Knuckles swollen. Rusted iron dust packed under her nails.
"[gentle] Let's finish this night. Together."
Kathy stared at the hand.
Tears wouldn't stop.
Her trembling hand reached out—and took Barbara's. Cold fingertips touched Barbara's palm. Hesitant. Light.
Their hands met.
Cold. But—solid. Real.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause echoed through the dead park.
Barbara and Kathy spun around simultaneously.
The center of the abandoned park.
On the stage of a broken fountain—Joker stood.
His white suit floated in the dim light. Green hair swayed in the damp wind. The scars splitting his mouth corners—a Glasgow smile. Muddy yellow-green eyes. Laughing. But the pupils were pinpricks.
"[laughing] Bravo! Bravo! Such a beautiful friendship scene! Hahahahaha!!"
Joker approached slowly. The click of leather soles on concrete. Rhythmic. Hammering Barbara's eardrums.
"[cold] Your little play was unexpectedly entertaining. But—"
He stopped. Long fingers extended from his tailored sleeve.
"[gentle] Shall we move on to the final act?"
Joker held out his right hand. Palm up. Fingers beckoning.
"[cold] Hand over the Chronocodex. Do that, and I'll let little Kathy go."
Barbara's hand moved unconsciously. Touched the inner pouch of her batsuit. Fingertips traced the leather binding.
There—the book of precognition.
"[laughing] Go on. Choose. The power to know the future? Or your friend's life? Hahaha. Simple choice, isn't it?"
Barbara pulled the book from her pouch.
An old leather-bound tome. The Chronocodex. It flooded the brain with future memories on contact. Yellowed page edges. The scent of aged paper.
Joker's grin deepened. The split corners of his mouth stretched to his ears.
"[gentle] Good girl, Barbara—"
Barbara grabbed the cover.
And tore.
Riiip.
One page.
Joker's grin froze. His mouth hung half-open. Motionless.
Barbara tore another.
Riiip.
Another.
Riiip. Riiip. Riiip.
Her fingers grabbed pages. Tore. Released. Old scraps of paper danced in the wind. Scattered across the ground. Only the dry sound of ripping filled the silent park.
"[cold] The power to know the future?"
She tore the last page. Fragments slipped through her fingers.
"[cold] Something like that—"
She stomped the cover with her right boot. Leather crunched under the sole.
"[cold] I don't need it anymore."
Joker's mouth stayed frozen. Half-open.
The smile was gone.
Yellow-green murky eyes stared at Barbara. Pupils dilated. Contracted. Dilated again. In those eyes—the composure of an experimenter. Gone. For the first time. His long fingers twitched. Unconsciously. Repeatedly.
Humans who defy fate always break.
That was Joker's theory.
But—
Barbara didn't break. She broke the book instead.
No dependence on fear. She chose the present.
"[whispers] …Why."
Joker's voice leaked out. Small. It wasn't even a question. Just a mutter. Faced with a possibility that had never existed in his calculations.
Then—
Sirens surrounded the park's outer walls.
Red and blue light flooded the grounds. GCPD vehicles. Searchlights sliced the darkness. Lit up rusted ride frameworks. One after another.
And—
Thud.
A black shadow landed behind Joker.
Batman.
His cape billowed. In an instant, he wrenched Joker's arms behind his back. Cuffs clicked. Cold metal meshed. Twice.
Joker didn't resist.
His smile still gone. He accepted the cuffs. Quietly. For some reason. Those murky eyes still fixed on Barbara.
GCPD officers poured into the park.
At their head—James Gordon.
Short gray hair streaked with white. Exhausted blue-gray eyes. Deep wrinkles behind his glasses. As always, he hadn't let go of his coffee cup. Steam rose thinly into the cold morning air.
He moved through the park. Issuing orders.
Then—he stopped.
His eyes met Barbara's. She stood in her ruined batsuit.
Mask shattered. Half her face visible.
Red hair. Green eyes. The crescent scar on her left temple.
James Gordon's eyes froze. Just a moment.
His lips moved slightly. Started to form a word—closed.
But—he said nothing.
He quietly averted his gaze. Continued directing his officers. The hand gripping his coffee cup tensed white. Just for a second. Then relaxed.
"[serious] Seal the perimeter. Tend to the wounded. Now."
His voice was steady. The usual detective tone.
But—Barbara saw it. The corners of his eyes. Trembling. Just barely. For just a moment.
Her father knew.
Batgirl was his daughter.
Still—he said nothing. He kept working. Took a sip of coffee. Like any other morning.
That was his answer.
Joker was led to a GCPD squad car.
The moment the door closed—
Joker looked at Barbara through the window.
And—slowly—started to laugh.
His mouth stretched wide. Splitting. The edges of his scarred smile twitched.
"[laughing] …Interesting. Truly interesting, Barbara."
Laughter filtered through the door. Different from his earlier cackling. Lower. A growl deep in his throat.
The madness wasn't over.
If anything—the laughter bounced. Like he'd found new amusement.
The squad car pulled away.
Barbara sank to the ground.
Her legs gave out. Knees buckled. She sat hard. The pain in her flank surged. Late to the party. Every breath bleached the edges of her vision white.
Beside her—Kathy sank down too.
Silver hair close enough to brush Barbara's shoulder.
"[crying] …Sorry."
Kathy whispered it one more time. Small. Her voice was hoarse. Almost just breath.
Barbara didn't answer.
Instead—tears spilled.
Her emotions hadn't fully returned. Parts of her still felt numb. Yet—the tears wouldn't stop. She couldn't tell if they were hot or cold. But the sensation of moisture tracing down her cheeks—that was real. Undeniably.
Kathy cried quietly too. Her shoulders shook. Small. Choked sobs escaped now and then.
Neither decided. They just drew close. Shoulders touching. Leaning a little weight on each other.
No more words.
The eastern sky brightened.
Sunrise broke through gaps in the thick clouds. Lit the rusted steel frames of the dead park. Orange-tinged light reflected off the merry-go-round's peeling paint. Off shattered glass from fallen game booths. Countless tiny specks of light.
The night ended.
Then—
A pale blue light streaked across the sky.
A single flash. Less than a second. Faint brilliance.
But—every hair on Barbara's body stood on end. The fine hairs on her neck prickled. Goosebumps spread down her arms.
Someone was watching.
The book was destroyed. No more future memories.
Yet—this sensation was clear. A warning carved directly into her spinal cord. Primal. Certain.
Barbara lifted her face. Stared at the sky. The light was already gone. Only the sunrise through the clouds remained. Unchanged.
"[whispers] …Did you see that light? Just now?"
Kathy shook her head. Silver hair swayed slowly.
"[sad] No… nothing."
Something only Barbara felt.
A pale blue flash. Invisible to everyone else.
Someone—was watching.
Barbara stood.
Hands on the ground. Slowly straightened her knees. Ribs creaked. Flank ached. The absence of taste and touch still lingered.
But—
She looked up at the sky.
Gotham's overcast caught the morning sun. Dyed a dull orange. The thick cloud layer that eternally blanketed the city stared down at the world below. Same as always.
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