The scene shows a baby being born and immediately a man takes the baby away as the mother cries out for him to bring the baby back. Someone gives the woman an injection and she passes out.
Cut scene to when the child is five years old. She is learning to throw knives at a target, how to use martial arts. When she would do good, he would praise her and she would show no emotion. When she would do poorly, he would scold her and she would show no emotion.
Scene changes to the child, a little bit older, perhaps 7 or 8 slipping into a house dressed in black. She slipped into an office where a man slept in his chair. She moved in behind him and as she leaped up, she drove two knives into the sides of his neck as blood began to spurt everywhere.
There’s a rustling sound and she looks up to see a young girl about her own age sitting up on a couch where she had obviously been sleeping. The assassin leaps down and slips away, but doesn’t go far as she observes the actions of the young girl who shuffles over towards her father in her pajamas.
She tries to shake her father awake, but as her hands get bloody he offers no response and the girl begins to cry uncontrollably.
A close up of the child assassin shows a tear rolling down her cheek.
ASHLEY MARIE CROSS
The words “12 Years Later” appeared on the screen. Below that, “Gotham” appears.
My name is Barbara Gordon. It’s been five years since the disappearance of The Batman. It’s been four years since I was crippled by The Joker. It’s been three years since Nightwing attempted to take the place of The Batman but was defeated by the monster Bane. Since then, there has been no one to protect the people of Gotham. For three years, crime has been running rampant in Gotham and I have been hiding in this clocktower. Two months ago, a mysterious vigilante appeared on the scene in which the media has come to call her Mother Panic. Despite the fact that I have been able to put together a supercomputer to keep an eye on things, the identity of Mother Panic is still a mystery. Which brings us to today…
A bank alarm goes off somewhere in Gotham. As the robbers escape the bank and hop into their getaway car, a mechanized figure lands on the top of the car, the claws of the suit digging into the metal roof of the vehicle as it whips around the corner.
Sirens are heard off in the distance as the mechanized hero lifts a fist and smashes down against the windshield, shattering it.
“Oh shit!” Chaos ensues inside the vehicle as it swerves to the left and the right. The hero releases the grip on the vehicle and lands behind it as it crashes into a nearby telephone pole. As smoke billows from the engine, the robbers stagger out of the car and are immediately confronted by the metallic hero.
“Shit!” One of the robbers begins to shoot at the hero, but the bullets have no effect on the armor. Finally, the hero speaks and the voice is definitely female, “Stand down,” she demands as she moves in and grabs the gun from the hand of the bank robber and crushes it in her hand, tossing it to the side.
Suddenly, one decides to make a run for it and takes off down the alley. As the mechanized hero secures the other three, she realizes the fourth is escaping. She starts after him when suddenly, he is thrown back into the alley, landing on his back on the pavement.
Another dark figure, definitely female steps into the dim streetlight as the guy crawls backward. “Stay the fuck away from me!” He scrambles to his feet and is immediately hit with a kick that slams him up against the side of a building and he slumps down to the sidewalk.
A graphic lets us know that the mechanized hero is Mother Panic. Mother Panic hovers onto the scene and notices the last robber has been taken care of, she turns to thank the other hero and finds that she’s nowhere to be seen.
JUST A STORY ABOUT A GIRL ASSASSIN
Daylight has struck Gotham like an unwelcome stranger. People walking out of their homes are squinting as they make their way to their morning destinations. The subway zooms down the track, taking hundreds of folk to work and school.
Along the street, a young Japanese woman walks by, seemingly in good spirits as she has a smile on her face. As she walks through the business district of downtown Gotham, we see from her viewpoint that all the signs are just meaningless symbols, representing the fact that she doesn’t read.
She suddenly stops with a curious expression on her face and she sniffs the air. We hear her stomach grumble as she turns the corner and walks into a small bakery. A graphic alerts us to the identity of the woman being Cassandra Cain.
She walks up to the counter and a small elderly woman approaches her from behind the counter. “What can I get you, dear?”
Even though Cassandra has no idea the words being spoken to her, she seems to understand that a question is being asked. She digs into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a couple of bills all crinkled up and some loose change, letting it all fall onto the counter.
The woman unwrinkles and counts the money, “Well, this is enough for a couple of donuts. Which ones would you like?” She points to the glass display case with an assortment of decorated pastries.
Cassandra licks her lips and moves to look closely at the display. She moves from one to the next to the next, unsure of which ones to pick. She spots a pink one and points.
The woman smiles and reaches in with some tongs and pulls out one of the pink donuts. She holds up a single finger and Cassandra’s eyes go wide and she also holds up a single finger, as if asking. The woman nods.
Cassandra grins and leans back over and points to a chocolate one. The woman packs the chocolate one as well and then grabs a bottle of water and slides it over to her. “Take care, sweetie,” the woman says as Cassandra reaches for the items and waves before leaving the store.
Further down the street, we hear a man yelling, “Where have you been all fucking night? You think you can just go out and do whatever the fuck you want?”
As we focus in on the scene, a woman is down on her knees, crying. A bag of groceries scattered in the alley. The man has a handful of her hair, “I don’t know why I put up with your crap…”
“You know I was at work,” the woman cries out as she tries to get away from him, but he holds on tight to her.
“Fucking lying bitch,” he says and he pulls his other hand back as if to strike her. The woman braces for the blow that never comes. We see a hand has grabbed the man’s wrist. “Da fuck?”
As he turns to see who stopped him, we see him looking at Cassandra whose face is a pink and chocolate frosting mess as she takes a final bite of her last donut.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing kid, but stay the fuck out of my business.” The man snatches his hand away from Cassandra’s grip. Cassandra moves past him and begins to help the woman pick up her items.
“I said stay out of our business!” He reaches for Cassandra, but a hard kick under the chin and he falls backward, landing hard on the pavement. Cassandra hands the bag back to the woman and motions for her to leave.
On a large computer screen, Barbara Gordon has watched the entire confrontation.
There’s a smaller screen below that has the masked vigilante.
“I feel like this is the same person,” she mutters under her breath.
It’s later that same evening and inside a bar, a man sits on a stool finishing up a glass of whiskey and slides it for a refill.
The door of the bar opens and Barbara Gordon wheels herself inside and pauses behind the man. “Dick,” she says dryly, almost as if it were an insult.
“Dick” smirks as he takes his refilled glass and takes a large swallow. “Babs.”
Barbara waves to the bartender as she wheels towards a booth and extracts herself from her wheelchair, sliding into the booth. The bartender brings over a bottle and a glass. “Thanks,” she says as she reaches for it, pouring herself a glass.
Finally, with some effort, Dick walks over and slides across from her. “What do you want?” he asks.
“Nice to see you too, asshole,” she says in retort as she takes a small drink from her glass.
“Is this how we do things now? You come here needing something from me and you insult me? You can go fuck yourself, you know that?” He starts to slide out of the booth to go back to the bar.
“There’s another vigilante out there.”
Her words stop him as the look of bitterness sweeps across his face, “Goody-fucking-two-shoes for him. What’s it got to do with me?” Dick Grayson returns to the booth and slides in. His face is ragged, he looks much older than his actual age with that beard filling up most of the bottom half of his face.
“She’s young. She’s skilled but she’s young. I doubt she’s even out of high school.”
Dick reaches for the bottle and tops off his glass, “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Hey! It took me years before I was allowed out there. The old man didn’t trust me for shit,” she says as she watches him from across the table. “It was probably the right way to do it, but that’s not the point. I know you aren’t doing this anymore since…” she trails off.
“What? Since I fucking failed? You can say it. I own it. I tried to be the b– him. Got my legs broke. I’ll never put on another suit for the rest of my life. I’m not bitter…” he says, finishing off his glass before refilling it. “I couldn’t save you,” he says, his eyes drifting towards the wheelchair, “I couldn’t save me. I couldn’t save Gotham. What do you expect me to do with Batgirl Junior?”
“She’s not Batgirl Junior. I’m not sure who she is. Facial recognition comes up blank. But she’s cleaning up Gotham. Or at least trying,” she says as she looks at him.
“Is that a dig on me? Fuck you, Barbara.” He starts to slide out of the booth.
“What? You got your legs broken? Fuck you, Dick. I can’t walk. You want to see who can throw the biggest pity party? You don’t win against me, but I’m out here trying. You’ve just given up. Come into this bar every night and get hammered and then what? So you can feel sorry for yourself?” She slides to the edge of the booth as well, reaching for her purse and dropping a few bills on the table before trying to move into her wheelchair. “I should have known this was a mistake.”
Dick starts to get up to help her, “Don’t you even bother,” she says as she lifts herself up and into the chair. “I don’t need your help with this. I needed your help with her, but you are obviously not done feeling sorry for yourself so don’t you worry, I’ll handle it myself, again.”
She unlocks the wheels of her chair and begins to roll herself out, giving a wave to the bartender before pushing the door open and moving out onto the sidewalk.
Grayson watches her go and shakes his head, reaching for the bottle she left behind when the bartender walks over and takes it first, “Time to go, Dick.”
Appalled, Dick stands up, “You know what, I never liked this place anyway.” He reaches for his jacket, putting in before walking out the door. “I’ll go back to Jack’s tomorrow.”
The bartender could be heard yelling, “Jack doesn’t want you around there either. I’m the only one who’ll put up with your shit these days.”
The door shuts and Dick walks across the street to the gas station where he parked his car and notices something on his windshield. He snatches it up, “A fucking ticket?” he says in slurred speech.
“Yo, man. You okay?” A group of five dudes walks up to him. “You need some help?” Dick looks at them through blurry vision, squinting his eyes trying to get a better look. “I’m just heading home…” He begins to pat down his jacket before he realizes he doesn’t have his keys. “Fucking bartender…”
One guy steps in front of him, “We’ll get you home. Don’t you worry,” he says as he holds out his hand.
Dick looks down at the hand, “What’s this?”
“Our tip. You rich guys gotta tip us so we can make sure you get home.”
Dick gets shoved from behind, “Looks like Mr. Bigshot over here doesn’t want our services.”
Annoyed and knowing where this is going, Dick decides to go on the offensive and takes a lazy, drunken swing toward the one who looks to be the leader of this group. Of course, the swing only makes him go more off-balance as he staggers forward and falls to the ground on his hands and knees.
The gang immediately moves in as we hear the thuds and grunts of him being kicked over and over in his side.
“Hold up,” says the leader as he walks over and picks up a metal rod lying on the ground. “Rich boy here wants to give us a hard time, how about we give him something to spend all that money on.”
The leader raises that bar high to bring it crashing down on a battered, bloodied Dick Grayson when suddenly a hand reaches out and grabs the bar. The hand is covered in black leather, the stitching was definitely not professional.
The camera pans back to see Orphan standing there dressed head to toe in black and she has a hold of the steel rod. With a quickness, she flicks her wrist and the bar drives up and smashes right into the leader’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground. He points to her, “Get that bitch…”
It doesn’t take long for Orphan to dispatch all of the gang members, as she swings that bar around like a professional, hitting them in the stomach, the head, the legs, and after a few brief moments, they are all lying on the ground, groaning in pain.
Orphan tosses the bar aside and walks over and digs through Dick’s jacket for his car keys and she unlocks his car door. She drags him over and as she opens the door and gets him inside, she locks him in.
She then turns back to the gang lying on the ground and scratches her chin.
The scene shifts to later that night, police car lights are flashing as they have surrounded the car. “Looks like we got some help here,” one of the officers points to the light pole with all of the gang members tied around it.
On a rooftop, Orphan looks down at the scene and then disappears from sight.
The next morning, Barbara Gordon is sitting outside of a downtown restaurant scanning her phone for news and eating breakfast. A chair across from her slides out and a woman takes a seat across from her.
“Who is she?” the woman asks.
Barbara glances up from her phone. She immediately recognizes the woman, as would nearly anyone in Gotham who has picked up a newspaper or read a tabloid in the past decade.
“Violet Paige,” there is a hint of surprise in Barbara’s voice as she says the name. The woman across from her smirks.
“I know who I am, Ms. Gordon. I want to know who she is.” Violet Paige is dressed to impress. Everything about her screams expensive designer fashion. Custom made from head to toe. Paige is the daughter of film director Martin Paige, whose death made worldwide news over a decade ago. Violet remains in the spotlight, in and out of rehab mostly. But, as to whom she’s talking about, Barbara hasn’t a clue.
“Perhaps if you’ll be more specific?”
Violet reaches into her purse and pulls out some photos and slides it across the table. It’s the masked vigilante from the other night. Several shots outside of the bar. Barbara scans the photos and slides them back across the table.
“What makes you think I would know who this is?”
Violet leans across the table, “Let’s just say I know who you used to be, who you used to hang out with, and I know what you do now with that little computer of yours. What I want to know is who your little computer has determined this to be. I know you’ve been looking into her.”
Barbara isn’t sure why Violet Paige is across the table asking about this mystery hero, but she also isn’t sure why she would tell her anything at this point. “What’s your interest?”
“I’m trying to figure out why an assassin is masquerading as a hero in my city.”
This surprises Barbara, “Assassin?”
“Look, I don’t know who you think I am or was or what it is you want with this person here, but you…”
“I’m Mother Panic but you already knew that.”
Barbara stops talking. The two stare at each other for a moment.
“If I’m going to have to do battle with an assassin, I need to know everything there is to know about her and I also know that you’re probably the only person in all of Gotham who can get that information for me.”
Barbara Gordon looks around nervously for a moment as if wondering if she’s about to be snatched up. It’s early enough that most folks are still in bed, but she wonders if this is the best place to have this conversation. To be honest, Violet Page was on the shortlist of suspects who could be Mother Panic.
Then again, she also isn’t sure she wants to be alone with this woman who seems to know an awful lot about her. Barbara realizes she’s been silent for far too long, though Violet hasn’t said anything to her about it. She looks up, “This isn’t the place to discuss this. If you know so much about me, meet me at my place at noon. If you don’t show, then I don’t want to see you again.”
Violet watches the woman for a moment and then nods, “Fair enough. I’ll be there.” Violet rises from her seat and stalks off.
Barbara throws some bills on the table and pushes herself away from the table and heads down the road.
Violet Paige is what one might consider a media darling. While her antics as Mother Panic are secretive, her public life is far from. Stories about her being in and out of rehab since her father died have been all over the tabloids.
Though not unfounded, she actually did several stints in rehab before getting it together and putting her family’s wealth to good use. The mechanized suit she uses cost a pretty penny, but her cover as a drug-addicted starlet has come in handy since.
If at any point she gets injured, she takes a “sabbatical” and the tabloids just assume it’s another rehab stint.
Tracking down Barbara Gordon was far more difficult than she’d have liked it to be. But she knew someone was watching her, sending her an occasional tidbit of information. Gordon was good. But, it helps to have a great deal of wealth behind you when you really want to track someone down. She never expected, however, to be face to face with the Police Commissioner’s daughter.
The issue with being Violet Paige is that everyone knows you’re Violet Paige. She has to find a way to walk around discretely during the daytime. So, she occasionally has to send out social media pictures of her being other places in order to get around.
As Violet stands in front of the clocktower, she already knows she’s being watched by Barbara Gordon on the inside. She walks up and pushes the button and looks up into the camera before the door buzzes and Violet lets herself in.
Sitting in her wheelchair in front of several computer screens, Barbara Gordon is cursing herself for not putting two and two together, especially considering what she knows about Batman. She wonders how many other rich individuals are out there running around in vigilante suits.
“Nice place you got here,” says Violet as she walks in, removing her wig and jacket.
“What do you know about this so-called assassin running around Gotham?”
Violet plops down into a chair, “I don’t know much except that for whatever reason, she’s going around helping. I saw her rescue a drunken Dick Grayson the other night.”
That got Barbara’s attention. That had to be the same night they met at the bar. “What happened?”
Violet hands her phone over to Barbara, who puts the video on the big screen before handing it back. They watch the entire event unfold from the moment Dick tried to get into his car to being approached by the gang and the beatdown, then the arrival of the hooded vigilante who quickly dispatches the entire gang with precision.
When the video finishes, Barbara starts to try and pull up other viewpoints, “I wouldn’t bother. That’s the best vantage point, plus, she is completely covered from head to toe in black. There’s no way to get a look at her face. Trust me, I tried all of that before I came to you.”
Barbara turns her chair to face Violet, “The League of Assassins haven’t been in Gotham in years, not since Batman…” she doesn’t finish that sentence. “Plus, it doesn’t look like she’s here to kill anyone. She seems to be trying to help.”
Violet shakes her head, “I have an issue with an assassin in my city. She’s hard to track down and I need some answers.”
Barbara nods her head, deep in thought. “Well, I’ll do what I can. If something comes up, I’ll get in touch.” She turns her chair and reaches into a drawer and pulls out an earpiece. “Take this. If I find something out, I’ll contact you through this.”
Violet takes the earpiece and places it into her purse, then stands up and walks towards the stairs.
“And if you don’t mind,” Barbara starts causing Violet to turn around, “I’d prefer no one knew I was up here.
“I understand. I expect the same discretion from you as well.” Violet turns and leaves as Barbara turns to her computer and begins to do a search of known assassins.
As the computer searches, she wheels herself over to pour herself a cup of coffee when the computer beeps. She takes her coffee and sets it on the desk as she looks up and one name appears to stand out.
She clicks a few more times and it seems that David Cain has landed in Gotham.
“What the fuck business does he have here?” she mutters under her breath as she watches a video of him and two females walking down the stairs from a private jet and onto the tarmac.
We go from the video to the scene where David Cain as he and the two females have entered into a limo. “Have you found her?” he asks the passenger up front.
“We haven’t located her, sir. It’ll be difficult without a recent photo of her, but there is also a new vigilante in Gotham who may be who you are looking for.”
One of the females speaks up, “Why do we need to find her, father? She left us. Let her try and make it out there on her own.”
As David Cain looks out the window as the limo drives by buildings and cars, he seems surprised by the question, “I made her who she is. It’s been 12 years. That seems like plenty of time. Now it’s time to reclaim what’s mine, Willow.”
Willow nods her head and turns to glance at Marque who makes an ugly face at the comment of her father. “But really, father, our talents could be of much better use than tracking down our prodigal sister.”
A look passes between the girls as David finally turns to give them his attention, “I understand you feel inconvenienced by this, but this is important to me. So, let me make one thing very clear. There will be no further talk of abandoning this mission. Once we have succeeded, we will leave Gotham and go on to better things, but until then I expect no further discussion. Am I clear?”
There’s a brief pause before Willow and Marque both respond in unison, “Yes, father.”
Jefferson Johnson is walking home after work with a bag of groceries in his hand, minding his own business when he hears some yelling from an alleyway he’s approaching. Johnson isn’t a tiny man so as he gets to the alley and peeks in, he sees three very well dressed men and a woman. One of the men has the wrist of the woman in his hand and has her pushed up against the brick wall of the building.
“I told you before, you don’t get to decide shit. You’re my girl and you’re gonna be my girl whether you like it or not,” says the man as the other two begin to approach Jefferson.
“Nothing for you to see here, buddy. Just move along.”
Jefferson shakes his head, “I’ll leave when she leaves. Let her go and we will go on our way.”
The streetlight flickers on as dusk continues to settle in.
The man holding onto the woman turns to them, “Just get him out of here, goddammit!”
Cracking their knuckles, the other two descend on Jefferson as he prepares to fight. One takes a swing, which Jefferson avoids, only to punch the man right in the face, sending him sprawling on the ground. Suddenly, Jefferson’s arms are grabbed from behind as the last remaining man comes up and drives a fist right into his stomach, sending the wind right out of him.
“Gonna give you another chance to just get your shit and walk away…”
His words are cut off by a fist from the side that sends him into the wall. As the woman in black arrives, she quickly dispatches all five of the gangsters. The woman in danger has fled and Orphan picks up Jefferson’s groceries and hands them to him.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely as he clutches the groceries to his chest.
“Welcome,” comes a voice from behind the mask. “Go.”
Jefferson nods and turns and begins to run off as she turns to the five lying on the ground, something causes her to glance up sharply. She narrows her eyes behind the mask as she looks then shakes her head as she turns back to the mess in the alley.
However, on the rooftop, David Cain, Willow and Marque were looking down at the commotion.
WIllow turns to her father, “Shall we retrieve her for you now, father?”
David Cain shakes his head, “Not just yet.”
“What are we waiting for?” asks Marque.
David Cain grins, “A much better opportunity,” he says as he walks to the other side of the building and watches Jefferson Johnson hurrying down the sidewalk. He pulls out a cell phone and dials.
Orphan leaps from one building to the next as she continues to patrol the evening in Gotham, but as she’s about to make another jump, Mother Panic leaps onto the roof. A split-second decision from Orphan tells her that she’s not in danger.
“Who are you?” comes the voice behind the costume of Mother Panic.
Orphan tilts her head, almost like a puppy would when being talked to but having no idea what’s being said.
“Do you not understand?”
Orphan eyes her behind her mask but otherwise doesn’t answer.
Finally, asks the same question in several different languages but still gets no response from Orphan.
“Well, fuck,” she finally says. Suddenly, the tech over her head rolls down her face, exposing it to the other woman. “I asked who you were.”
“You understand me now?”
A soft shrug from Orphan doesn’t really answer the question.
“Why are you here?”
“Are you dangerous?”
“So you do understand me?”
A sigh comes from Violet as she isn’t sure what to do.
“Come with me.”
Inside Barbara’s clocktower, Violet Page sits on a couch next to Barbara in her wheelchair as they watch Cassandra shovel food into her mouth as if she’d never eaten a meal before. Her eyes are glued to the television as some cartoon is on the screen.
“I don’t think she understands English. I’m not sure if she speaks any language,” says Violet as she turns her attention back to Barbara. “I used my tech to try multiple languages, but nothing registered with her. She seems to know a few simple words like ‘yes’ and ‘no’. She’s got a hero name, calling herself “Orphan”, but otherwise I don’t think she says anything.”
Barbara is still watching Cassandra, “It seems rude to call her “Orphan”.” She wheels herself over to a small fridge and pulls out a soda and wheels over to give it to Cassandra who seems to know how to open it up as she drinks heartily before going back to her food.
Violet rises up from her seat, “I’ve gotta get going. You’re okay with her staying here with you? I figured if anyone had a way to get to her, you would. I don’t have any idea where to start. Let me know if I can be of any help.”
“Okay,” Barbara says as she follows her to the exit, “I’ll let you know if there’s any progress.”
As Violet leaves, Barbara turns around to find Cassandra face down on the coffee table asleep. She sighs softly and wheels over to pick up the plate and empty can and heads into the kitchen. She wheels back out and picks up a blanket and places it over the girl before muting the television and dimming the lights and heads off to bed herself.
Several hours later, Cassandra blinks her eyes open and sits up slowly, yawning and stretching. Her eyes happen to catch the television when a picture of the man she saved earlier appears on the screen. The television is still muted but the words “MISSING” appear under his name, though Cassandra just sees scribbles having no idea what any of that means. A video of a woman crying and pleading for information but again the words mean nothing to Cassandra.
But the body language does.
We turn back to where Cassandra was and she’s gone.
Orphan stands on the rooftop as she surveys the scene. She watches folks walking by without a care, but something catches her eye. Most might not understand what it is she sees, but it spells trouble as she drops down onto the sidewalk and begins to follow the thug as he ducks down a darkened alley.
Suddenly, the thug is tossed out of the alley and as we zoom in, we see a door closing softly as Orphan disappears inside.
Inside the old abandoned building, Orphan tip toes quietly down a hallway but as she hears voices coming her way, she leaps up. The two voices she heard walk by, glancing down the hallway but seeing nothing and as we look up, Orphan is holding on near the ceiling. She drops down and disappears around the corner.
She continues to look around and more voices come and she hunches down into a dark corner, disappearing into the dark as the voices walk past and she quietly rises and moves in the opposite direction.
A sound catches her attention, a soft groaning sound and as she stops and peeks into the small window and spots Jefferson Johnson who looks like he’s been whooped pretty badly. Orphan reaches up and grabs the lock securing the room. She glances up.
More voices are heard coming and she leaps up. As the two men walk by some white powder drops down onto them and they stop and look up just after she replaces the tile.
“Old fucking building,” one of them mutters as they peek in on their prisoner before walking on.
Inside the room, Orphan drops down from the ceiling. Jefferson starts to freak but as he sees who it is, he is surprised. “How did you…?”
She shushes him. She walks over and begins to press her hand against him, checking different places. She can tell he’s broken a couple of ribs and dislocated a shoulder. She knows there could be other serious injuries so she’s going to have to get him to a hospital.
Once more, she leans in close and shushes him as she grabs his arms and places them around her neck, lifting him up like a backpack. He groans loudly as she lifts him. She disappears back up into the ceiling with him.
As she leaves the building with him on her back, she leaps up and uses a fire escape to climb both of them up and onto the roof. She lays him down. “Help. Okay?”
She starts to leave to go get some help, but he grabs her by the arm. “It’s too late,” he says. He begins to cough as blood escapes the corner of his mouth. He slowly reaches into a pocket and pulls out an envelope and hands it to her. “Please…”
She may not understand the words, but she knows. “No,” she says as she reaches up and pulls back her mask. “No,” she says again as tears well in her eyes.
But it’s too late as Jefferson Johnson passes away in her arms. The heartbreaking, gut-wrenching sound that comes from the mouth of Orphan fills the skies as rain begins to splatter around them. Lightning, then thunder fills the sky behind them as the camera pans upward and away from the two below.
TO BE CONTINUED
Cassandra Cain/Orphan NORIKO ITO
Barbara Gordon SLOANE TAYLOR
Violet Paige/Mother Panic ASHLEY MARIE CHASE
Dick Grayson MARK CROSS
David Cain DANIEL DREAM
Willow XUIHUA ZHOU