The apartment was small, but it was hers.
Kara stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips as she surveyed her new domain. The walls were scuffed, paint peeling at the corners, and the floorboards groaned when she shifted her weight. A heavy, cast-iron radiator sat against the far wall, hissing intermittently and barely fighting off the chill creeping in through the drafty window. The sounds of Gotham filtered through the glass, sirens wailing, engines roaring, a distant, angry shout.
But it was her apartment. Kara couldn't help the proud smile tugging at her lips.
She set to work, unpacking the meager collection of belongings she'd managed to gather. The Kents had given her a temporary bed, a thin mattress on a squeaky wooden frame, along with a blanket and pillow. She made the bed quickly, tucking in the edges and patting it flat, trying to make it look inviting despite its simplicity.
Clothes came next. She hung a few blouses and skirts in the narrow closet, carefully smoothing wrinkles with her hands. Her work clothes, all neatly folded, went onto a shelf. In the cramped bathroom, she arranged her toiletries on the edge of the chipped sink.
Back in the main room, Kara stood back and took it all in. The apartment was bare, the few personal touches hardly enough to make it feel like home. The cracked walls seemed to loom closer, and the flickering light overhead buzzed faintly, creating a low, nagging hum.
But she could imagine it, a couch in the corner, maybe a table and chairs by the window. Shelves filled with books and knick-knacks, pictures on the walls, and curtains thick enough to block out the orange glow of streetlights.
"It will be good," She said aloud, nodding firmly. She could make this work. It was her place, her own space to shape.
The excitement carried her through organising the rest of her belongings, folding away blankets, stacking books, and arranging a stack of magazines on the counter. She'd grabbed them from a newsstand, fashion, pop culture, and a few science journals. Reading material to help her understand this world better.
Kara leaned against the chipped windowsill, staring out into the tangled sprawl of Gotham City. Neon lights flickered through the haze of fog and pollution, casting garish colours over cracked rooftops and grimy alleys. Somewhere below, a car alarm blared before abruptly cutting off.
There was a certain charm about this city that made it stand out among the others like it. The architecture was beautiful, but the buildings had been built and rebuilt, added onto, renovated and restored. Whereas Metropolis looked like a city that had been planned and carefully built, Gotham had grown.
The streets twisted and wound, weaving in and around each other, splitting and merging seemingly at random. Years upon years of human life, generations and generations, had left their mark on the city. It felt almost organic, alive in a way that was different from Metropolis.
It was utterly alien to Kara. But, there was something exciting about that.
Kal-El had been less than pleased when he learned she was moving here. He was supportive, he always was, but Kara wasn't ignorant to his gentle nudges and suggestions to move anywhere else.
"Gotham's dangerous," He'd said, brow furrowing with that concerned big-brother expression she'd come to know too well. She'd never had a sibling, neither of them did, and yet, the relationship they shared felt like what she imagined a sibling's would be. It's not like Metropolis. Crime there isn't something you can just punch away. And Batman...he doesn't trust easily."
Kara had rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Kal, I not helpless." Her thoughts didn't even consider Kal's words, too preoccupied with the same thought experiment she usually had when talking to Kal-El.
Wondering if they would be as close if Krypton had not been destroyed.
Kara sighed, the weight of her thoughts pressing heavily on her shoulders.
If Krypton hadn't been destroyed, she would have grown up surrounded by family. Kal-El would have been a distant presence, a younger cousin more concerned with his own studies and pursuits than with the older girl who occasionally visited from Argo City. A face she'd know but not really understand.
Would they have been close? The question gnawed at her. On Krypton, life had been structured, a place for everyone and everyone in their place. Kal-El would have grown up the son of Jor-El, the radical politician always warning of doom.
Would she have respected him? Ignored him? Idolised him from afar? The thought left her strangely hollow. The bond they shared now was forged in tragedy, grief and survival linking them in ways Krypton never would have.
And then there was her father, who had clashed so often with Jor-El over politics and science, ideology and ethics. Disagreements that had grown bitter over the years, the rift widening. Yet in those final desperate days, those arguments seemed so small, meaningless. Jor-El had sent his son away, and Zor-El had followed his example, sending her.
The pain of that memory twisted like a knife. He'd promised she would protect Kal-El, raise him, guide him. But the journey had stretched decades, and Kal-El had grown up on his own. By the time she arrived, he was already a hero, a symbol of hope and strength. She was the one who needed guidance.
It was strange to feel grateful and guilty all at once. What kind of life would she have had if things had gone differently? Maybe Kal-El would have been a brilliant scientist, inheriting his father's vision. Maybe they still would've worked together? Cousins bridging their father's divide.
And what of Kara herself? She had only just started her journey in the Science Guild, still uncertain of what field she wanted to specialise in. She could have been a great scientist, working side by side with her father. Would she have married, started a family of her own? She tried to imagine herself living a quiet life on Krypton, the wife of another scientist or engineer, or perhaps even a politician. The image flickered, uncertain and hazy.
Would she have even been happy?
The thought hit her harder than expected. The truth was, she didn't know. She would've had a purpose, a clear path set before her. But would she have ever had the freedom she did now? The independence to make her own choices, even if they led her here, alone in a drafty, broken-down apartment in Gotham City?
She smiled faintly, rueful. Maybe Kal-El was right to worry. The city had a heavy presence, like it was always watching, always listening. Even the air felt hostile.
But she was here. Her choice. She wasn't about to run back to Metropolis just because Gotham was different. Krypton was gone, but she was still here. She could build something new, carve out a life for herself instead of letting fate or family dictate it.
"Just...be careful," Kal-El had said, giving Kara a firm hug.
"What's the worst that could happen?" She'd said with a grin. She didn't want quiet and peaceful. She wanted to be part of this world, to make a difference, to stand on her own. Kal-El might be protective, but she was Supergirl. She could handle herself.
But now, standing alone in the flickering light of her apartment, that confidence wavered. The reality of it settled over her, pressing down like a weight. The noises of the city outside were no longer intriguing, just harsh and jarring. Shadows danced along the peeling wallpaper, stretching and shifting. The radiator let out a gurgling groan, and Kara flinched before realising what it was.
She looked around her apartment, her new home, and tried to focus on the good. It was hers. She was independent now, free to make her own choices, free to build her own life. But the silence gnawed at her, refusing to be ignored.
It was the first time in months she was truly alone.
At the Fortress, she had the echoes of Krypton, the whispers of her culture and people. It wasn't real, but it was familiar. On Themyscira, the Amazons were distant but present, watchful eyes studying her from the cliffs. The Kents had been warm, always nearby with gentle smiles and comforting words. Even Kal had been a constant presence, hovering, worrying, but always there.
Now, the empty apartment felt cavernous. The walls seemed to close in, shadows pressing tighter.
Kara's breath hitched, the silence pressing against her like a physical weight. The draft in the apartment felt sharper now, cutting into her skin despite the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The glow of Gotham's lights through the grimy window seemed colder, more hostile.
The grief came creeping in, old, familiar, and unwelcome. She'd thought she'd outrun it, buried it deep enough that it wouldn't find her. But here, in this tiny apartment, it lingered like a shadow.
She remembered those first weeks on Earth, the shock of the crash, disoriented and grief-stricken. The world was wrong, too loud, too bright, too small. The sun felt wrong on her skin, the air burned in her lungs. The sky was the wrong shade of blue. It was all wrong.
She'd cried every night, curled up on a cot in the Fortress of Solitude, clutching at the phantom memory of a world she'd never see again. Her family's faces flickered in her mind, Zor-El's stern expression softened by pride, Alura's gentle but commanding gaze, her friends from Argo City. All gone.
The loss had consumed her, a pit of despair swallowing her whole. She remembered thinking, if this was life now, she didn't want it.
But Kal-El had been there. He'd pulled her out of the darkness, patient and persistent, his gentle reassurances easing the ache. She'd watched him, the little boy she was meant to protect, grown into a man. Far too human but still Kryptonian in the ways that mattered. A symbol of hope.
But the silence was suffocating.
She bit down on her lip, hard enough to hurt, forcing back the tears. Crying wouldn't bring Krypton back. Wouldn't undo what happened. She was Kara Zor-El, last daughter of Argo City. A survivor.
"I'm not alone," She whispered, clutching the blanket tighter.
She thought of the Kents, their kindness and farmstead wisdom, filling the emptiness with warmth and acceptance. Kal-El's reassuring smile, he taught her how to fit in, and she'd clung to his optimism. The Amazons, strong, fierce, and unyielding, who'd called her sister despite her alien heritage. Even her job at LexCorp, where she was learning how to restore technology of her world, and use it to better the lives of Earth.
It wasn't Krypton. It never would be. But it was something.
"I'm not alone," She repeated, firmer this time. She focused on the faces of the people who cared about her, the connections she'd made.
Hope stirred. She wasn't alone. She had a chance to rebuild, to make a new home here. She could do this. She would.
Then she heard it, a scream. A sharp, desperate cry that shattered the silence. Her head snapped up, instincts kicking in. The fear and grief melted away, replaced by focus. The distant plea for help sent a surge of purpose through her veins.
Kara pushed off the bed, throwing the blanket aside. She crossed the room in a blur, the window swinging open as she leaped through it. Wind whipped her hair as she soared into the night, the cold biting at her face. Her posture shifted, shoulders back, chin up. Kara Zor-El faded away, and Supergirl emerged.
-
Supergirl soared through the cold night air, her cape snapping in the wind as she zeroed in on the source of the scream. The sound echoed from a narrow, dimly lit alley wedged between two crumbling apartment buildings. The brick walls were stained with years of neglect, graffiti layered upon graffiti, and trash piled against rusted dumpsters.
She landed with a gust of wind, the air whipping past the man clutching a knife and the woman pressed against the wall, clutching her purse with white-knuckled desperation. Both froze, eyes widening as Supergirl straightened, hands on her hips. The red and blue of her uniform stood out starkly against the gloom, the S-shield gleaming in the harsh yellow glow of a flickering streetlight.
"Hey," Kara said, voice heavy with her Kryptonian accent. "You no threaten people. Stop now."
The mugger blinked, then sneered, his bravado crumbling under her unimpressed gaze. He shifted the knife, holding it out in a shaking grip. "Back off! I-I'll cut you!"
Kara arched an eyebrow. "Try." She crossed her arms over her chest.
The man hesitated. The woman's eyes darted between them, fear etched into the lines of her face. He lunged. Kara grabbed the blade, fingers wrapping around the metal. It bent like soft clay, twisted into a useless knot. Kara looked at the mangled knife, then back at the mugger. "Bad idea," She said, unimpressed. "Run."
He didn't need to be told twice. He spun on his heel and bolted, shoes slapping wet pavement.
Kara turned to the woman. "You… okay?
Wide-eyed, the woman nodded slowly. "You- are you-" Her gaze flicked to the S-shield, confusion clear. "What are you doing here?"
Before she could respond, a cry echoed from somewhere nearby, another plea for help, high and frantic. Kara shot the woman an apologetic look. "Sorry. Be safe!" And then she was gone, rocketing upward, cape flaring.
The scream led her to a busy street, where a scrawny teen was sprinting, clutching a stolen purse. A woman chased after him, shouting for help. Kara landed ahead of the thief, blocking his path.
"You stop now!" She called, planting her hands on her hips just like before.
The teen stumbled, eyes wide. He glanced over his shoulder, then back to Kara. "Oh, hell no," He muttered, dropping the purse and sprinting down an alley. Kara watched him go, frustration creeping in.
She scooped up the bag, hovering over to the owner, who stared at her with an awed expression. "Here," Kara said, holding it out.
The woman just gawked at her, stunned. Kara glanced down at herself, then back at the woman. Her appearances as Supergirl had been few and far between so far, but the citizens of Metropolis had all but fallen over themselves in thanks when she had saved them. Kara didn't enjoy the hero worship, but it somehow felt better than whatever this was.
Passerbys began to stare, pointing at her, whispering to each other. A murmur ran through the crowd, rippling outward.
Kara looked around, frowning. This didn't feel right. Her instincts, finely tuned after weeks of training and fighting, were going off. There was a tension, a hostility building in the air. The people didn't look relieved. They looked… afraid.
Kara didn't get it. However, before she could ask any questions, a crash echoed from a nearby corner, followed by angry shouts. She sighed, glancing back. "Sorry. Must go."
She shot off again, cape flaring as she zipped through the chill air.
A corner store's front window was shattered, jagged glass littering the sidewalk. A group of hoodlums laughed and jeered, spray paint cans hissing as they defaced brick walls. One swung a bat, smashing more glass.
Kara landed with a thud, shards crunching under her boots. "Stop!" She ordered, crossing her arms. "Enough."
The group turned, startled, eyes wide. One thug with a wild grin brandished his bat. "Who the hell are you?"
Kara frowned. "Supergirl."
He scoffed. "Yeah, right." He swung the bat, aiming for her head.
Kara sighed as the bat made contact, wood splintering across her face but she hardly felt a thing. The thug yelped, stumbling back. She blew out a gentle breath, wind pushing the hoodlums over like paper dolls. They quickly dispersed, fleeing into the night.
She turned to the store clerk, who poked his head out from behind the counter. "All good now," Kara called, giving a thumbs-up.
The clerk blinked. "Uh...thanks?"
She looked around at the mess. The graffiti was ugly, words scrawled with careless disregard. Angry, spiteful words. Kara was about to offer to clean up when another scream was heard off in the distant.
"Really?" Kara groaned, as she shot back into the sky, muscles tensing as she tracked the sound.
More shouts. More desperate cries.
Kara sped from crime to crime, petty thefts, muggings, vandalism. One after another. It felt like every corner of Gotham was alive with violence. She stopped a robbery at a gas station, broke up a scuffle between rival gangs, and yanked a carjacker out of a taxi.
But every time she turned, there was more. More fear, more desperation.
The city seemed to pulse with crime, the streets winding and twisted, darkened by shadows that never seemed to fade. The air tasted dirty, grit coating her tongue. The sounds of sirens and distant shouts gnawed at her, a constant thrum of chaos.
"This...crazy," She muttered, catching her breath. "Why so much?"
Even without a cry for help, Kara spotted trouble, a group of masked men were readying weapons and disusing plans for a 'hit' of some kind. She flew towards them, dropping down on them when she noticed something odd.
Someone else had joined her in the fight.
Kara had barely touched down when the shadows came alive.
She blinked, eyes wide as a figure dropped from the rooftop above, a blur of black and muscle, hitting the ground with a soundless grace. The masked thugs barely had a moment to react before the figure struck, each movement efficient and brutal. Limbs cracked, bodies folded, and men crumpled to the ground in twitching heaps. The whole thing took seconds, a whirlwind of violence that left five would-be burglars groaning on the ground.
Kara stared, jaw slack. She'd seen warriors on Themyscira, powerful, graceful, and skilled, but this was something else. An acrobatic dance of efficiency and lethality, every move honed to perfection. Whoever this was, they fought like a predator, all instincts and precision.
In the end, Kara's only contribution to the conflict was acting as a distraction while a Bat-vigilante worked their magic.
A chill crept up her spine. She knew of the Batman, Kal-El's tales of the brooding vigilante were sparse but vivid, painting a picture of a shadowy terror who brought justice from the darkness. Kal-El had spoken of Batman with a mix of respect and frustration. An ally, and a friend. Dangerous, but reliable.
Kara studied the dark figure, masked and cloaked in black. Muscular but lithe. She frowned, this wasn't quite what she had imagined. Batman was supposed to be taller, broader. More intimidating.
She stepped forward, raising a hand in greeting. "You...Batman?"
Without warning, the vigilante's arm flicked forward. A metallic whistle cut through the air. Kara's eyes widened as a pair of bolas tangled around her arms, pinning them to her sides. A second whip of motion, and her legs were bound in an instant.
She blinked down at herself, stunned. "Wait, what-?"
With a grunt, she flexed, the cords snapping apart like twine. Kara watched the remnants fall, eyebrows raised. "Hey! That not nice!"
The vigilante didn't react, only lowered their arm slowly, body tense.
The figure turned, and Kara got a better look, shorter than she expected, lean but powerfully built. The mask was different too, more unsettling, stitched together with a sewn mouth and two featureless black eyes. A strange, ragged look that seemed almost feral.
Then the vigilante stepped forward, and Kara saw the symbol. Golden-yellow trimmed, but clearly visible in the dim light. A stylised bat, wings spread. It also became obvious now that this was a woman.
"Okay, you no Batman," Kara muttered, nodding her head. "You Bat...Person? Bat-uh...Friend?" She ran a hand through her hair, feeling awkward.
The vigilante made no sound, simply stared at her with a cold, assessing gaze.
Kara shifted on her feet, undeterred. "I Supergirl. New here. I...help?" She pointed to the unconscious thugs. "Maybe...work together?"
The figure didn't respond.
Kara smiled, hoping to break the tension. "You fight very good. Um- well. Very strong. Much...kicking." She gestured awkwardly.
The silence stretched on.
The vigilante didn't move, but Kara felt the weight of their stare. A creeping dread slid into her gut. This was a test. A threat assessment. She remembered Kal-El's warning. Gotham's dangerous. Crime there isn't something you can just punch away. And Batman...he doesn't trust easily.
Kara sighed. "Look, I here to help," She said slowly, holding up her hands. "Not enemy."
The figure cocked their head. Kara watched, fascinated, as a gloved hand reached up and tapped on the side of their mask. Kara heard the distinct chatter of a radio, a voice buzzing. However, it was too muffled even for her to understand. The figure listened, then gave a slow nod.
The girl didn't respond. The mask covering any hint of expression. She tilted her head, a silent question. Kara waited, the silence stretching out like a taut wire. The masked vigilante, whoever they were, stood perfectly still, a silhouette carved from shadow. Kara felt a prickling sense of unease.
Kara hesitated, scratching the back of her head as she studied the masked woman. "Okay, so...you no talk?" She ventured, brows knitting together. The vigilante gave no response, only tilting her head in that curious, assessing way.
"Right. Quiet type. That okay," Kara continued, undeterred. "We fight crime together, yes? I strong. Very fast. Can see through, well, most things. Is good, right?" She grinned, flashing a hopeful smile.
The masked woman's silence was unnerving. Her eyes, or rather, the black slits of her mask, never wavered from Kara. Then, in a swift, fluid motion, she pointed to the rooftop. Before Kara could ask what she meant, the vigilante shot a grappling line, the cable hissing as it reeled her up in a blur of motion.
Kara crouched, leaping skyward in a graceful arc to land beside her on the roof. "No point running, I can fly, you know," She teased. Batgirl ignored the comment, posture tense as she scanned the horizon. Kara sighed. "Still not talk, huh?"
"I've heard enough," Came a low, gravelly voice from behind her.
Kara's spine went rigid. She whirled around, eyes wide as she found herself face-to-face with the Batman. Cloaked in shadows, towering and imposing, he glared at her from beneath the infamous cowl. She hadn't heard him approach, not even with her super hearing.
"Whoa!" Kara yelped, clutching her chest. "You very sneaky man!"
"Not sneaky. Prepared," Batman countered, eyes narrowing. He flicked his gaze toward Batgirl, a subtle nod. She relaxed but kept her focus on Kara.
Kara's attempt at a friendly grin faded as Batman's cold glare bore into her. He seemed more shadow than man, the darkness draping over his form like a living thing. Even Batgirl, who'd been silent until now, stood tense and unreadable beside him.
"I heard of you." Kara began, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Kal-El says you great hero! You are...um, very brooding. But good!"
Batman's scowl deepened. "Superman has a lot to say."
Kara puffed out her chest. "Yes! I am hero too. Like him."
"Is that what you call it?" He didn't look impressed.
Kara blinked, thrown off. "Yes?"
Batman crossed his arms. "Tonight alone, you stopped four muggings, a robbery, and a gang shootout."
"Yes!" Kara beamed. "And I did fast! Very efficient!"
"And every single time, you let the criminals go." Batman's eyes narrowed.
Kara's confidence wavered. "Well… they run away. I stop bad thing from happening."
"And they'll be back on the streets tomorrow," Batman stated. "Because you didn't investigate. Didn't follow up. You reacted, smashed a few guns, and let them scatter. You solved nothing."
Kara scowled. "Crime still stopped."
She met his glare, frustration burning behind her eyes, but then her gaze flicked down. A small lead box rested against Batman's utility belt, his gloved hand idly draped over it. Kara frowned, squinting with her X-ray vision, only for it to stop cold, obscured by trace lead in his cowl.
"You can't just fly in, punch a problem, and call it a day," Batman's frown was steady, but disaproving. "Every crime is a thread. You follow it back to the source. You build a case. Otherwise, all you've done is make noise."
"Too much problems," Kara argued, "I not have time, city need help."
"That's why Gotham needs a scalpel," Batman said. "Not a hammer. A hero who doesn't understand the city she's trying to protect," Batman grumbled. "Will only get in my way."
"I help!" Kara clenched her fists. "I protect people!"
"That was a stakeout operation which was two weeks in the works," Batman countered, pointing towards the several unconscious thugs below. "Until you blew through, ignoring our protocols, and nearly wrecked the operation. We might never find who Black Mask is targeting until it's too late…"
Batgirl held up a bloodstained slip of paper. "Terence Strong. Gotham General. Room 304B."
The words were a surprise for Kara, who'd assumed Batgirl couldn't talk at all. Batman held out a hand to inspect the note further.
"They were talking. Before," Batgirl explained, her voice was professional, but had an odd accent that Kara couldn't place. "Supergirl is very… loud." Kara wilted under her observation just as Batgirl turned towards her, bowing slightly. "But fast, strong. Make's good distraction. You did well tonight. Happy to work together again."
Kara perked up, pleased by the praise. "Really?" She shot a smug look at Batman, who ignored her. "Thank you!"
Batman stared at her in stony silence, then reached into his belt and tossed a small device her way. Kara caught it out of the air, staring at the compact communicator in her hand.
"If you're going to stay, then you'll call before you act," Batman ordered. "Every time."
Kara scowled. "I not-"
"It's not a request," He interrupted.
The communicator's cool weight settled in Kara's palm as Batman's glare pinned her in place. She glanced from the device to the imposing vigilante, a surge of irritation bubbling up. She wasn't some child to be scolded or managed, she was here to help.
"I not need restraints," She protested, clutching the communicator. "People in trouble. I help."
"You'll help by following orders," Batman barked, his voice a low growl. "Or you'll make things worse."
Kara scowled, grip tightening until the device creaked in protest. "You not nice person."
A snort of laughter escaped Batgirl, who quickly masked her amusement behind a shift in her weight. The glare Batman shot her way was sharp enough to cut through armour, but she only shrugged. "Listen, Supergirl. Gotham's different from Metropolis. There are layers. Threats that don't stay down just because you punch them."
Kara's mouth twisted into a frown. "Punching work very well."
Batgirl nodded in agreement. "Play along for now. You'll will learn."
"Shouldn't have let them talk." Batman muttered under his breath, words barely audible to anyone except those with superhearing.
Kara blinked. "Wait, you not let her talk before?"
Batman ignored her question, typing into a computer on his wrist. "Oracle, give me everything you have on Terence Strong, and tell GCPD to get to Gotham General, room 304B."
Kara was utterly ignored as the Bat began his own conversation with someone in his communicator. She turned to Batgirl, who looked like she was also privy to whatever conversation was going on.
"This is dumb," Kara grumbled, pouting. "I not little girl. I strong. I can help."
"And you'll help by following protocol," Batman growled, looking back at her. "No solo missions. Not in Gotham. Last warning. Stay out of my way. We'll handle it."
The words left no room for argument. Kara flicked a glance to Batgirl in support, who shot Kara an apologetic shrug.
Before Kara could argue any further on the matter, Batman was gone. She spun, scanning the rooftop. Nothing. No flicker of movement, no sound. He had vanished.
"What-?!" Kara gasped, wide-eyed. "He just- where?"
Kara turned, ready to complain, but Batgirl was gone too. No whisper of a grappling line, no sign of departure, just silence.
She stood alone, staring at the dark skyline, irritation and confusion churning within her. Hands on her hips, she blew a lock of hair from her face. "This city very rude..."
