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Black Bat roundhouse kicks the thug, immobilizing the man and allowing Black Bat to kay a foot on the man’s chest, slowly adding more pressure.
“I don’t know what you want me to say! I’m sorry!” The man cries, trying so shift out from under her grip. Black Bat merely reses down harder, grinning when the man gasps in pain. “I can tell you when we get the next shipment! Or, or, I can tell you about the people running the operations! Just tell me what you want,” the man writhes in agony, sobs racking his chest. A beep echoes through Black Bat’s ears, but she tunes it out, decided that it probably is an alarm or something, and electing for someone else to take care of it. She takes the foot off of the man’s chest, who sighs in relief, panting as he tries to recapture his breath.
“Tell.” Black Bat states, the beeping in her hears getting louder. She wants to tell one of the other bats to take care of it, but she doesn’t want to break character, so she resolves to do that once he leaves. Her name comes through the comms, but the man starts to speak so she turns down the volume and looks at the man expectantly. She turns on the recorder on her wrist, wanting to capture all of the information that the man is telling her, despite the dizziness the flows through her head. She can feel her blood sugar dropping, but she feels like she can probably hold out for at least another half an hour, long enough to get the information out of this guy and get him to the police. Her name is repeated louder and louder against the comm, so she ends up disconnecting from it entirely, doing so without letting the man know about her distractions.
“Will you let me go now?” The man practically begs. Black Bat hums mockingly, stepping away in a show of grace but, before the man can get too far, she knocks him out and ties him to a nearby lamp post, calling for the police to come pick him up.
Her legs start to feel tingly, in a way that makes them feel as if they’re falling asleep which Black Bat doesn’t understand since because she was under the impression that it only happened when your blood circulation was low, but maybe she was wrong. The dizziness still hasn’t receded and, confusingly, the beeping keeps speeding up, which she doesn’t understand, given that her comm is muted, but maybe the beeping is coming from around her? Fog covers her brain as she looks around the street, the sound following her movements in a way that only happens when the sound is connected directly to her. She grapples onto the top of a roof, her legs weak and shaky. She knows that it’s a bad idea, that if something is going on, she should be grappling, but her brain is too foggy to process any of that. She feels water droplets soak through her mask as her legs give out under her, the world blurring as her body moves in an uncontrolled manner.
She feels a weird sensation all over her body, as if every nerve ending is standing straight up and electrocuting her. She groans, the sound coming out jarbles (or maybe that was just her hearing) and, right as she hears someone else’s voice, broken and strained, before everything goes black.
~~~
Incessant beeping wakes Cass up, bright, fluorescent lights assaulting her vision as soon as she cracks her eyes open. Bruce sits next to her, asleep on the hospital chair, and within moments of waking up, a nurse strides in with a gentle smile.
“Welcome back, Ms. Wayne.” The nurse greets, and Cass looks at her with confusion.
“...Why?” She finally asks, frowning. The nurse freezes momentarily.
“Why are you here? You had a diabetic seizure; your blood sugar got too low and you got hypoglycemia.” The nurse explains hesitantly. Cass stares at the nurse, disbelieving.
“What was the beeping?” Cass asks, too out of it to process that the answer might just have something to do with their nightly activities. The nurse purses her lips.
“Your father said that, while you were out, you were calling him and he could hear your glucose monitor beeping but you were ignoring it, maybe that’s what you mean?” The nurse offers. Cass hums, unsure.
“Was an alarm, I thought.” She says aloud. The nurse nods.
“I get that, it’s Gotham, there rarely isn’t an alarm going off, but this time, it was your alarm.” She lightly jokes. Cass nods, finally realizing what happened.
“Didn’t like it.” Cass mumbles tiredly. The nurse nods pityingly, a sad look on her face.
“You’re gonna feel pretty out of it for a while, that’s completely normal. You’ll want to pay more attention to your monitor, though. Maybe change the alarm to be something a little more unique so that this doesn’t happen again. For now, we’re going to keep you for a little while to make sure your condition is improving and also to continue giving you your glucose. We already administered some intravenous glucose, but we just want to be careful. You might want to carry a glucagon kit in the future, to prevent this from happening.” Cass absentmindedly processes, her gaze locked in Bruce with wonder. She doesn’t want to wake him up, god knows that he doesn’t get enough sleep and Cass doesn’t want to ruin what little he does. Plus, they’ve likely probably already informed him about it. If not, she can always have then repeat what they said to her when he wake up. The nurse trails off, but Cass is too absorbed in her thoughts.
Maybe the nurse is right, and she should change the alarm tone. It can’t be that hard, especially with Tim and Barbara who can do practically anything, but with how she was feeling that night… She should have realized what was happening. She should have checked her monitor to be safe and she should’ve calls someone over in case something happened instead of turning off her comm. She wasn’t in her right mind, she knows but this all could have been avoided if she just… told someone, or took notice of her symptoms. The nurse leaves and Bruce begins to stir, blinking at her with worry and relief.
“You’re okay,” Bruce says, mostly to himself. Cass nods.
“Am okay.” She repeats, despite feeling tired and achy deep into her bones. Bruce smiles.
“Don’t ever do that again.” He returns. Cass nods once more reaching out to lay a land on his shoulder.
“Won’t happen. Will be better, promise.” She states, looking up at him with sincerity in her eyes. Bruce takes a deep breath.
“The others are worried. Tim was the one to find you, but Alfred forced them all to stay home, so as to not overwhelm you. I’m sure they’re texting you non-stop, though.” Bruce gives her a small smile. Guilt fills her head, but she knows that they aren’t mad, only worried, and she knows that they will say that it’s all a mistake, and that she shouldn’t blame herself, because that’s what they always do, even when she is the one to blame, they never get mad, not about that. She just hopes that she can prevent this from happening again.