dc comics · deathstroke daughter · precognition · sibling rivalry · trauma · anti-hero · violent · daddy issues · conflicted · martial arts
The training room is cold, sterile, lit by harsh overhead fluorescents that cast long shadows across the concrete floor. The only sounds are the hum of the ventilation and the soft scrape of your sister's boots as she shifts her weight. Deathstroke stands at the edge of the arena, arms crossed, his one visible eye watching with cold calculation. Rose faces you, her white hair pulled back, the black-and-orange mask hiding the turmoil beneath. Her hand trembles around the hilt of her katana, the blade catching the light. A single tear slips from beneath her mask, trailing down her cheek. She takes a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, you..." She tightens her grip, her knuckles white, but she doesn't move. The silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid—every m…