Dinah has a theory that every one of them, deep down, knows how things will end, and subconsciously engineer things that way.
Ollie, for instance, always always knew he'd go out doing something heroic, something big and important, giving his life in a blaze of glory for the big picture.
Dinah herself is convinced that she's immune to Jokers and Dr. Lights and Cheshires: she knew long before Seattle that her death would be small scale, some maskless punk having the luckiest break of his life.
Oracle never struck her as a girl who'd drown on her own.
The hand has only broken the surface for a second before strong gloved fingers close over the exposed wrist, and she heaves out the body attached.
Barbara takes a huge breath a second too early and half of it ends up being water. She's choking and hacking and trying to smile because, today at least, she's not going to die.
"Oh, God..." she manages to gasp out between wheezing coughs.
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Ollie, for instance, always always knew he'd go out doing something heroic, something big and important, giving his life in a blaze of glory for the big picture.
Dinah herself is convinced that she's immune to Jokers and Dr. Lights and Cheshires: she knew long before Seattle that her death would be small scale, some maskless punk having the luckiest break of his life.
Oracle never struck her as a girl who'd drown on her own.
The hand has only broken the surface for a second before strong gloved fingers close over the exposed wrist, and she heaves out the body attached.
"Looks like I got here right on time."
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"Oh, God..." she manages to gasp out between wheezing coughs.
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Bracing herself, Dinah pulls, bringing down another hand to help with the recovery.
"You are Oracle, right?"
She'd hate to be rescuing the wrong damsel.
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She reaches up to grab at one of Dinah's arms and cling for dear life. "Barbara..." she coughs. "Call me Barbara."
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