10 Months Later

Song: The way - Zack Hemsey (instrumental)

Two months remained until Alexandra would finally complete her time at the police academy. She had dedicated nearly a year to her training, and every step felt like it had brought her closer to her true goal: delivering justice. Word had already reached her that Celine had passed along her résumé to Gotham's very own GCPD. Lieutenant Jim Gordon, knowing her family's reputation, particularly her father's, had welcomed her into the ranks. A Lacroix joining Gotham's police was no small matter.

The city, however, was no longer the safe place she remembered hearing about. Gotham had descended into chaos. The streets weren't governed by law, but by fear and shadows, with headlines echoing the name Vengeance—the masked vigilante taking justice into his own hands. Alexandra had mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, his methods were brutal, his fists a language the mobsters and criminals understood. On the other hand, could justice be truly served through fear and pain?

What drove him to this? she wondered, as her fist collided with the worn wooden makiwara in the training shed. The repetitive punches helped clear her mind as she mused about the vigilante. Was it a lost loved one? A need for vengeance so deep it consumed him?

Her thoughts wandered toward Bruce. Had Celine met him yet? A sudden pang of worry struck her. She hadn't heard much about Bruce, and given Gotham's descent, she wondered how he was faring amidst it all. Was he okay?

Alexandra's hands, wrapped tightly in cloth to protect her knuckles, continued their relentless assault on the training board. The shed had been transformed into her personal fortress—a sanctuary where she trained, equipped with all the tools needed to sharpen her skills. She had gone beyond basic police academy training. Private instructors, ex-military veterans, and martial artists from around the world had been hired to ensure she was prepared for anything.

This was the price of justice, she thought bitterly, the cost of protecting those you love.

Each punch carried the weight of her grief and guilt—guilt for what had happened to her grandparents. If only they hadn't decided to go to the opera that night, a night meant to celebrate her, perhaps things would have turned out differently. They had all wanted to do something special for her, knowing how much Alex loved the opera.

They're gone because of that night, she thought, the familiar voice of self-blame whispering in her head.

She gritted her teeth, and her muscles tightened as she delivered a final, devastating blow to the makiwara. The wooden board cracked beneath her fists as if it couldn't bear the burden of her rage anymore. It's my fault. It's my fault. Her mind repeated the mantra, a mantra that had plagued her every night since the tragedy.

With a feral growl, she kicked the board hard, letting out a primal scream. The rush of energy surged through her body, but before she could land another punch, something strange happened. The makiwara flew from its place, slamming into the far wall of the shed with a loud thud.

She froze, eyes wide in disbelief. Her breath came in sharp gasps as she stared at the now-dented wall.

What the fuck just happened? she thought, heart racing. Her knuckles throbbed, but the pain felt distant—overshadowed by the shock of what had just occurred. She took a step back, bewildered.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Memories flashed through her mind—moments from her childhood, moments she had chosen to overlook.

Papa! Xavier took my teddy bear. Tell him to stop!

"Xavy, give your sister her toys. Enough with the teasing," her father had scolded gently, standing at the door of the playroom.

"Nah, she doesn't need it anymore," Xavier had said with a mischievous grin, holding the bear high above Alexandra's head, just out of her reach.

Alexandra had been so frustrated, so angry, that something inside her snapped. She had shoved Xavier, and though the shove seemed small and harmless, her older brother had stumbled backward harder than she intended, landing on the ground in shock. The look of surprise on her father's face as he rushed to check on Xavier still haunted her.

"Alexandra! Xavier! That is enough!" her father had barked, brushing off the moment like it was nothing. But it hadn't been nothing. She remembered the unease in her father's eyes. He had noticed, but he had said nothing.

And then there was that night. The night her grandparents died.

When she had run out of the house, unable to breathe from the weight of it all, her father had followed her. She remembered stumbling through the landscape surrounding her grandparents' estate, her legs barely holding her as she gasped for air, the grief choking her.

"Alexandra!" Damien had called after her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Her heart was screaming, her mind spinning with the pain. She ran, faster and faster, as if she could outrun the sorrow clawing at her chest.

She could still feel the cold wind cutting across her face, the tears blurring her vision as she ran deeper into the woods. She stopped suddenly, her legs giving out as she collapsed onto the forest floor. The memory was vivid—the ground shaking beneath her as she screamed into the night. The wind had howled, the trees rustling violently as if responding to her anguish.

Then, she remembered it clearly—small stones around her lifting, hovering just inches off the ground. But she had been too consumed by her grief to notice the impossible happening around her. All she could feel was the weight of her guilt.

She had heard footsteps approaching then, the crunch of leaves beneath boots. She turned, her eyes red from crying, and saw her father standing there, his face a mask of sadness and concern.

"Alex…" Henry's voice was low, soft, trying to reach her through the storm inside her mind. He crouched beside her, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, hesitant. "It's not your fault."

But she had pulled away from him, shaking her head violently. "It is. If we hadn't gone—"

"No," Henry cut her off, his voice firm but kind. "This... this isn't on you, Alex. You couldn't have known."

Her breath had hitched, but she said nothing. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right—not just with the deaths of her grandparents, but with her. Her father had stayed with her that night, silent as the trees around them stilled, but she had felt it. He knew something, but he hadn't said a word.

Now, standing in the shed, staring at the broken board, the memories came rushing back. She picked up the makiwara, her hands trembling slightly as she placed it back onto its stand. There's no point in panicking, right? she told herself, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart. It seems like I've had this for a long time, with no bad effects happening to me. So, I should be good.

But as she stood there, staring at the board, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.