You Said You're Gone
Tula yelps as she plunges into unexpected water, struggling to see after that blinding flash of light. It's hard to hear anything over the thrumming and thumping of what sound like coastal factories, and the pollution in the water burns in her eyes and throat. As she slowly regains her sight, the murky shrapnel of the depths around her tells her that she's been thrown much farther than just into the bay outside of Titans' Tower. Where ever she is, it doesn't look familiar.
At least she isn't alone -- the filthy water makes it hard to see well, but she's pretty sure that's Garth treading water up at the surface. Tula glances around again and shudders, then takes off swimming. It's a literal grave yard down here. Some of these rusting cars were definitely occupied when they sank.
It feels like she popped up through an oil-slick when she breaks the surface, and the air quality isn't much better than the water. She wipes at her eyes and blinks at the semi-familiar skyline at the water's edge.
"...When did Gotham get this bad?"
At least she isn't alone -- the filthy water makes it hard to see well, but she's pretty sure that's Garth treading water up at the surface. Tula glances around again and shudders, then takes off swimming. It's a literal grave yard down here. Some of these rusting cars were definitely occupied when they sank.
It feels like she popped up through an oil-slick when she breaks the surface, and the air quality isn't much better than the water. She wipes at her eyes and blinks at the semi-familiar skyline at the water's edge.
"...When did Gotham get this bad?"