#canarybat

dinah: nat 20 charisma.

“If you die, I’m going to kill you.”

And that’s Babs’ voice, not Oracle’s, low and urgent in her ear. That’s not the mechanical buzz that guides her from The Clocktower, that’s an edge of panic and desperation that drives her to push herself to her hands and knees, despite the aching everywhere. Her ribs are protesting her moving and her vision is blurring around the edges the more she tries to focus on the fucking gorilla of a man advancing on her but Babs isn’t letting up, won’t let her give in to the pain like she so wants to.

“Get up, Dinah. Get up.” 

And Dinah can’t help but obey. With a grunt and a surge of agony from the ribs that are definitely broken, she manages to get her feet underneath her, as unsteady as they are. She sways a little on the spot and the thug falters, appearing shocked that she’s even still conscious. To be honest, she’s a little bit shocked too. But she knows what’s pulling her back from the brink.

“Dinah, you have to move. He’s big but slow and not too bright. Just hold on until Huntress reaches you.” 

And it’s a relief, to know that help is on the way, that someone is coming for her. She manages to narrowly avoid the brute’s first swing, throwing herself to the side and barely able to catch herself on a dumpster. The alley’s not big enough to fight regular crooks in, she’s amazed Big, Dumb and Ugly can even fit without getting stuck. She’s not so lucky with the next swing. He hits her right in the gut and she can almost feel another rib give under his hands.

“Dinah!”   

She’s on her back, staring up at a sky too clouded with smog for stars to be visible, trying to catch her breath. The snow’s cold underneath her and if she turned her head a little, she’d be able to see how starkly the red of her blood contrasts with the white. There’s a dark shape above her, coming closer, then the thug’s howling as Helena plants her boots in his face. Babs’ voice is frantic in her ear and Dinah lets it lull her to sleep.

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