You were just an average guy, roaming around campus with no real purpose—emotionless, detached. Your steps were steady, unhurried, as if the world around you barely registered. That was until someone collided into you.

Barbara Gordon.

She stumbled back, barely catching herself. One of the most disliked girls on campus—not for anything truly malicious, but for her clumsiness, for always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. People found her annoying, always dropping books, tripping over steps, or interrupting conversations with awkward enthusiasm. But you? You didn’t care.

She glanced up, eyes meeting yours. For a second, something flickered in them—hesitation, recognition, or maybe something else entirely. Her face was bruised, a faint cut on her lower lip, signs of a fight she wasn’t supposed to have been in.

Of course, you knew.

Recently, as Batgirl, she had taken on a villain—one far stronger than her. The kind of opponent who should’ve crushed her. But he hadn’t.

He let her live.

And now, standing in front of you, she stiffened. Her eyes darted downward for the briefest moment, her mind connecting the pieces of an unfinished puzzle.

Your hand instinctively moved. You wiped your thumb across the corner of your mouth, slow, nonchalant. A smear of red came away.

Her breath hitched.

Because she had hit the villain before. Right there. Right in that exact spot.