Her callused thumb grazed lightly over the edge of the obsidian blade that hung around her neck. Its constant weight there as it pressed gently against her chest was at times the only comfort she could find so far from home. Now that she walked the streets of Gotham again, her hand seemed to -

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- float to the glassy surface of the dagger beneath her jacket every time she rounded a corner. A twisted version of a child's safety blanket. A sharp stuffy. She had lost track of the days, the weeks, the months, the years. Gotham hadn't changed in the slightest, yet everything was different. -

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- Was that park there before? That building? Wasn't there an overpass that connected this street to the highway? When did that shop close? When did that one open? And yet, Gotham was still her home. An aged, familiar face that had grown a beard, gained a scar or two. Still precious to her no -

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- matter what. "This can't be right," Hayden muttered, the cigarette in her mouth bouncing up and down as she pulled out her phone and checked her map again. No, it was right. Her information had been correct, it just didn't...Feel correct. All of this felt wrong, now that she thought of it. -

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- She was about to just drop in on her sister, a sister who likely thought she was dead or never coming home again. Years had passed without so much as an email, a text, a smoke signal, a note via carrier pigeon. Yet Cienn couldn't know. Could never have known just what kind of trouble her -

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