who. Rose Frost and Jonas Joseph Jane what. A bit of torture to settle her into the past when. Tonight where. London
She walked down London back streets, hands in the pockets of an all black overcoat that seemed slightly out of place in this century. Rose had the walk of a model. There was a certain grace to her step and she held her head high even though her mind was clouded and she was confused.
This was the past. It wasn't a dream, nor a lapse into delirium. This was real. The sights and the sounds and the smells all combined into delicious potential. The past. Rose could do as she pleased here. Batwoman was afoot, but she was just one hero. The rest weren't alive or weren't aware of what Rose had become. Rose considered all the chaos she could create here, all the blood that could be shed with little consequence. It was enough to put a wicked little smirk on her face.
Rose knew she needed to figure things out. She needed to know when she was. She needed to know who was alive. She needed a plan. And she craved some fun. She wanted to hear someone scream.
So with hands in her pockets, she kept her eyes open for prey. "Come out, come out..." she sang in a whisper.