Cost of Knowledge
|Cost of Knowledge|
|Date of Cutscene:||11 May 2021|
|Cast of Characters:||Sparrowhawk|
The biggest lie I have ever told anyone is that I didn't want to know where I came from.
Someone dropped me on someone's doorstep when I was two. I was in a stroller, in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt with my name on it. My very first memories are of flitting in and out of rooms decorated with hand-painted cartoon characters and princesses changed just enough to stop a cease & desist order, of a few donated belongings stuffed into a cheap, plastic backpack because I didn't own enough for a trash bag. I was a minor headline in the news. Gotham loves a sob story.
I would imagine myself some sort of lost Wakandan noble, or some sort of fallen-from-space heroine who hadn't discovered her super-strength, but as the years went on and I accepted that my birth parents didn't want me -- for whatever reason -- I might have felt a little resentment to the fantasies I had created. Gotham can make you a realist very, very quickly.
He found out about my powers first. It was an accident. There was an accident. It got complicated. I should have left then. I should have slipped away.
And then he shared his secrets with me, because if I could trust him, he could trust me. That trust is sacred, and goes so much deeper than knowing the story behind each one of his scars.
He asked if I wanted to know where I was from. I suspect he already did some legwork. I told him no. My birth parents abandoned me. Why would I want to know them?
I lied. I lied to the people that I am supposed to trust with my life.
I find myself, during classes, during orientation, between thoughts, spinning that white card that was given to me with a promise of help and friendship between my fingers, its texture and weight hanging on my mind like a bad idea. What can He teach me? What would I be capable of learning?
What would the knowledge of where I come from cost?
I could know. Those memories long forgotten could be accessed, I could know the face of my father, the voice of my mother. Anything that would help me find them and know, at last, where I belong. That would mean risking Tim, and Dick, and Barbara and... thinking about that figure with the glow of mischief in his eyes and frank honesty in his voice. I was told to find an expert. Someone who might be able to help me understand what I am, where these powers come from. Where I come from. Knowledge I had forbidden from myself and told myself that I didn't care as long as the powers worked.
It would be The Devil Himself that tempted me with the opportunity to Know, but do I want that bittersweet fruit?