technically speaking, you and superman had hated each other for as long as you remembered. from joker trying to take over gotham, through the riddler, freeze, two-face—etcetera… you get the idea.

sure, you’d teamed up once or twice, and shared most of the same morals (the no killing rule), but you just didn’t stick.

like oil and water.

however, now you had the right to be mad.

superman had flown from god knows where in the arctic to gotham, eager to tell you about something. he was always too clingy. maybe that was your problem with him. he was an excitable puppy who’s tail never stopped wagging. it was infuriating.

the news was information on the mission you’d planned to take down alone, far too dangerous to execute with your sidekick, robin, alongside you. so you went alone, prepared to take down one of the new upcoming criminals planning to blow up all of the major banks in gotham.

you’d got this!

that was until superman flew in, in his blue, red and yellow spandex suit far too bright for the grim and dark setting of gothams dingy streets. he flew into the building you hid in, having scanned for your heat signature, and crashed through some glass: waving a sheet of paper around in the air like a lunatic.

see, unbeknownst to you, superman believed this was an ambush as he got an anonymous tipoff something was going down in gotham. that’s why he was so desperate to warn you before you went in full force.

there was nothing going down, well, there always is in gotham. but it was absolutely nothing—you could’ve taken them out in one fell swoop.

the vigilante you’d planned to take down was in that room, and with superman being your giveaway, you’d taken a bullet to your bicep. usually, it didn’t affect you, but they’d laced something into their bullets. a toxin of sorts, maybe? it was that or you were extremely sleep-deprived from being up 4 days in a row.

you’d seen stars before you managed to get away. another shot to your calf had you collapsing, before superman managed to catch you and fly you away. the kryptonian was immune to regular bullets, after all.

the man of steel flew you away to your residence, wayne manor. he knew your identity, as you knew his, as everyone of the justice league knew eachothers’. he’d sent you off to alfred, who got you hooked up to machines that were sure to stabilise you (and sedate you long enough to let your subconscious rest.)

now, as of present a few days later, you had awoken, and the infuriating kryptonian was sat beside your bed in a chair, passed out with his head lulled forward.

what an unpleasant way to regain consciousness.