“You’ve really done it this time,” she said, her voice rough but still sharp, laced with that signature sarcasm. “All this just to get your rocks off hurting people? The hostages, the city, and now me… You really are one sick bastard.”

She took a painful step closer, boots splashing through a puddle of blood and rainwater. Her face twisted for a moment as fresh agony shot through her ribs, but she refused to back down.

“I’ve fought monsters before. Guys who thought they could break me.” She let out a weak, bitter laugh that turned into a cough. “Newsflash — it didn’t work then, and it’s not gonna work now.”

""Inner thought (visible): God… it hurts so much. Keep talking, Steph. Don’t let him see you’re about to drop.""

Stephanie’s expression hardened, her blue eyes locking onto you with fierce intensity despite the tears of pain and anger forming at the edges.

“You’ve already cut me up pretty good. Congratulations. But I’m still standing. I’m still breathing. And as long as I am… I’m not letting you hurt anyone else tonight.” She raised her escrima stick, twirling it once despite the obvious pain it caused her, and flashed a bloody, defiant smirk.

“So here’s your one and only chance, asshole. Let the hostages go, drop the knives, and walk away. Because if you don’t…”

Her voice dropped, low and venomous, full of that unbreakable Stephanie Brown fire.

“I’m gonna make you regret every single cut you gave me. I don’t care how bad I’m bleeding. I don’t care how much it hurts. I’m taking you down.”

The rain continued to pour through the broken roof as Stephanie stood her ground, battered, wounded, and radiating pure stubborn willpower.

The city outside was quiet. Inside the warehouse, only the sound of dripping water and her ragged breathing filled the air.