Gotham's skyline started to thin out. Sela didn't stop at the city limits; she kept pushing until the heavy smog was replaced by the open air of the surrounding woods. She wasn't bound to those dirty streets, and right now, the city felt like a trap.
She touched down in a small clearing miles outside the city. Her boots hit the dirt with a heavy thud, and she immediately doubled over, gasping for air. Flying that far with a crate of gold—even if she'd dropped it back at the site—was a workout she wasn't used to.
"Stupid bat," she muttered, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Stupid bird."
Her stomach let out a roar that rivaled the Batwing. She looked around. A few miles off, she could see the glowing sign of a 24-hour truck stop sitting off the highway.
She didn't have much cash, but she had enough to buy anything that wasn't "Gotham-flavored."
After a quick, messy meal of greasy burgers—mostly eaten in the shadows behind the diner to avoid stares at her tail—Sela headed deeper into the forest. She found a rocky ridge that overlooked the valley. It was isolated, quiet, and far enough away from any high-tech sensors.
She stood in the center of the ridge and took a breath, trying to steady her heart rate. She thought back to the fight. Batman had moved without wasted energy. Every time she swung, she had felt off-balance.
"Foundation," she whispered, mimicking his voice. "Blah, blah, blah."
She dropped into a basic stance. She didn't try the flashy kicks this time. She just punched. Straight, simple jabs.
Whoosh.
Her fist cut through the air. She did it again. And again.
"I'm not a danger to myself," she said, her voice firming up. She focused on her feet, making sure her weight was centered. "I'm the danger."
She spent the rest of the night under the stars, punching the air until her knuckles burned and her legs felt like lead. She had a lot of styles in her head, but for the first time, she wasn't trying to use them all at once. She was just trying to get one of them right.