Years before...
Dick Grayson was making himself useful, the thirteen-year-old entertaining an infant girl as she lay in a hospital bed. She watched on with wide eyed wonder as he performed a variety of magic tricks, sleight of hand that left the child speechless, smiling and applauding her little hands following each and every overly dramatic flourish. The tricks were rudimentary, nothing spectacular or complex, but for his audience of one, it was as if the wonders of the universe were being revealed, the boys smile, his good humour, the sheer abundance of his empathy stripping away the horror of the world that her life had recently become.
If only for today.
Bruce Wayne watched on from outside the private hospital room, one paid for at no small expense, arms folded behind his back as he observed impassively. Or so it would appear, the Prince of Gotham evaluating every avenue, watching as his young ward did what he could not, and was thankful for it. One life had been saved, the question now stood revealed, how best to save another?
Ted Grant was far less reserved, the grey haired veteran an embodiment of his emotions, square jawed clenched and shoulders rigid. Stout and wide, he was a caged animal waiting to be unleashed, chafing beneath the necessity of inaction.
They both watched on in silence as the young Stephanie was now standing, the tiny girl upright on her bed and demanding a good look down Grayson’s sleeves to see what other surprises the Boy Wonder might have been hiding.
Wayne raised his chin and inhaled deeply, not looking to his companion when he began speaking.
“Her Father...”
“No longer relevant,” Grant cut in sharply, “and no next of kin.”
“What you’re asking for, this is no simple matter.”
“Not for yourself it wasn’t,” Ted grunted, arms folding about his barrel chest, “that ain’t yer kid in there neither, didn’t take yer long to fold him into the family though did it?”
Bruce refused to take the bait, “The circumstances were different.”
“How?”
Bruce didn’t answer, not to begin with, a flicker creasing his troubled brow as he watched the infant girl giggle with laughter, a dollar revealed hidden behind her ear. “She won’t remember.”
“I ain’t asking for a sidekick,” Grant turned; temper fraying, “you owe me, Wayne.”
“This isn’t about what I owe you, Grant,” Bruce seethed quietly at the implication, “this is about a traumatised, five-year-old girl!”
Ted, for once in his long life, was the first to back down. “I have to do right by her,” he insisted, his temper bleeding out into vapour, his arm falling limp, “I can’t just leave her to the world, not after this.”
There was no reply, Bruce tensing his fingers into fists behind his back, witnessing another child whose future had been torn away from her.
He was supposed to be the last.
“I’ll see what arrangements I can make.”
“Bruce,” Ted looked up, genuinely surprised, “I...”
“I’m not finished,” Wayne cut him off, the infant child in the room before him yawning and refusing to admit that she was feeling sleepy. “This will be the end of it, Grant. She will move on, you will make sure of it; she will have a life beyond that night. This had damn well be the last time I hear of Stephanie Brown!”
**********
Today...
The Narrows was in her blood, she breathed when it did, which was all kinds of useful when Batgirl was sprinting across the rooftops of its dilapidated tenements. Home sweet home was overbuilt, overpopulated and lived up to its namesake to such an extent that a young woman could relentlessly leap from the ledge of one building to the next when running at full pelt. Haphazardly built by a neglected and forgotten population, no two structures were now the same after decades of improvisation and patchwork repairs, lending her environment the air of an obstacle course as Stephanie Brown navigated the twists and turns, the highs and lows with a series of leaps, vaults and sliding ducks, the teenager not once slowing her momentum.
The moon was full tonight as, with grit and determination, Batgirl kept pace with her objective, the persistently fleeing young man heedlessly crashing through the alleyways below and to her right, panting as though he were being chased by the hounds of hell. Franticly he would look backwards over his shoulder, half imaging some manner of shadow in hot pursuit, unaware that she was in fact high above.
In tandem, the two of them navigated a tight corner; Stephanie vaulting an obstruction was a slick little tumble whilst her target smashed his way over a pair of trashcans. Batgirl had evolved within these last few weeks, and her name was spreading throughout the tight confines of her home, the cast aside citizens of Gotham trading tales amongst themselves of an angel who had come to guard them, one who emerged at night. The criminals, it seemed, were telling entirely different tales.
The burgeoning rise of Batgirl had grown with every tale and, as a smirk emerged upon her lips, Stephanie obeyed the skipping of her heart as she reached one final ledge. With a giddy combination of terror and exhilaration, the young blonde leapt into the unknown, diving into what was surely a suicidal fall. Instead, as the alleyway opened out beneath her, the Batgirl grasped the hem of her new cape, one gifted to her by her Uncle and, as it billowed out like the wings of her namesake, the fabric momentarily turned rigid and caught a gust of the sudden updraft of air.
Her plummet became rapid instead of fatal and, as the concrete far below rushed up to greet her, Batgirl could not have stuck her landing any better, slamming down right atop her fleeing perp and knocking the squealing, young man sprawling. She pinned him to the ground with a knee wedged against his spine before the fabric of her cape had even returned to normal, falling about her slender shoulders like a shroud.
“I don’t suppose you would be up for letting me try that again,” Stephanie queried as she adjusted her posture, ensuring that the young man wouldn’t be going anywhere she didn’t want him to. “I could really use the practice.”
“MY LEG!!” he protested, squirming to no avail as he struggled to inhale a fresh breath, “you broke my leg!”
“Oh I did not,” Batgirl denied without a great deal of sympathy, the teenager taking a quick, cheeky look over her own shoulder just to make sure. “Trying to get me into trouble, points against you sir.”
“What the hell do you want!?!” the young man’s protests persisted, his cheek pressed down hard against the concrete, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve never hurt nobody!!”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Mr. Kaidan,” Stephanie began to ruffle around the confines of the young man’s pockets; quickly finding what she was looking for.
He froze, eyes twitching in concern, “how do you know my name?”
With a swift, severe motion, Batgirl leaned into a crouch that brought her lips beside his trembling ear, several degrees of levity evaporating from her tone as though they had never been there, replaced by a note of audible threat. “I pay attention,” she ground her knee into his back, bringing the small container of narcotics she had looted from his person right into his line of sight, “which is unfortunate for the likes of you. Peddling this kind of crap is a swift and certain way to make it onto my shit list, one I’m keen to make shorter right here and now!”
“I JUST SELL IT!” Kaidan insisted with rising panic, the small of his back protesting as the ball of a knee was driven deeper into it. “I don’t make it; I’m just a middle man!”
“So, I should be having a chat with someone else?”
“Yes!!”
Batgirl leaned in closer, “Do tell.”
Kaidan didn’t answer, not immediately, either finding some slither of courage, or some greater fear taking hold.
“Look,” Stephanie pressed, her mannerisms buoyed once again by a note of levity as she reached for her belt, “I’m all kinds of reasonable. You can tell me who your supplier is, or,” she brought a new item into his restricted line of sight, a small rod which, with a flick of a switch, rapidly expanded out into a formidable staff with a dramatic crack.
“I can find new and exciting places to insert this!”
**********
The last time Stephanie had used this window to sneak in and out, she had been fourteen years old and destined for heartbreak. While her judgement remained suspect when it came to the involvement of fast motorcycles, times had changed, and these days it was Batgirl who slipped into her Uncles spare room under the cover of midnight.
Once, not so long ago, it had been her room, and she found it oddly comforting to find how little it had changed in her absence, a welcome refuge for her following the break in at the Wildcat’s. Closed down for renovations following the shoot out, Stephanie had temporally moved back in with her Uncle, and it was as welcoming now as it always had been.
Bunny Big Ears had returned with her and, after the young women slid the window shut behind her, she smiled at her constant companion from childhood; pulling off the bandanna she wore as a mask and pulled it down over the oversized teddy’s head. After tapping his nose, she began to ruffle her own blonde mane in a fruitless endeavour to fix her helmet hair before making her way into the apartment proper, still otherwise wearing the entirety of her Batgirl attire, the cover of night no longer hiding how haphazard her gear really was.
She passed through the living room without a word, her Uncle asleep on the couch, falling into a slumber right where he had been sitting, TV still on and cycling the news from the day before. Stephanie opted to leave the old man to it, heading into the kitchen and raiding the refrigerator, groaning at the near predictable lack of healthy nourishment, scraping together what she could to feed her grumbling tummy. Closing the door afterwards, she grabbed a sheet of paper and proceeded to scribble down everything she would need to get from the store tomorrow, her Uncle’s diet about to encounter a rapid improvement whether he liked it or not, Brown securing the list with a magnet once she was done.
Stifling a yawn that threatened to overtake the teenager, Stephanie headed back into the living room, a second yawn catching her utterly off guard as she inhaled deeply. With adrenaline fading, fatigue was rapidly setting in, the young women rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand before she dropped down heavily onto the couch, the petite, would be Gotham Vigilante nestling in close to her Uncle.
Ted grunted something incomprehensible in his continued slumber before settling, his Niece bringing her head to rest against his heavyset shoulder, her eyelids feeling heavier by the moment. She scowled in annoyance before adjusting her Kevlar vest, the buckles digging into her kidneys, but after a suitable amount of fidgeting, she managed to make herself comfortable, Batgirl as safe as safe could be cuddled against her parent.
She barely absorbing what was being said on the broadcast, images blurring together and words rapidly losing context. Closing her eyes with a deep sigh, her mind tumbled over the evening’s discoveries. Stephanie had a location, which would be easy enough to get to, and she had a name, one that was slightly less helpful.
It felt familiar and yet also fanciful, like everything in this town, and somehow she found it less intimidating than it was supposed to be.
Batgirl slipped effortlessly in a deep and untroubled slumber, one name circling her thoughts.
...
Scarecrow.
Dick Grayson was making himself useful, the thirteen-year-old entertaining an infant girl as she lay in a hospital bed. She watched on with wide eyed wonder as he performed a variety of magic tricks, sleight of hand that left the child speechless, smiling and applauding her little hands following each and every overly dramatic flourish. The tricks were rudimentary, nothing spectacular or complex, but for his audience of one, it was as if the wonders of the universe were being revealed, the boys smile, his good humour, the sheer abundance of his empathy stripping away the horror of the world that her life had recently become.
If only for today.
Bruce Wayne watched on from outside the private hospital room, one paid for at no small expense, arms folded behind his back as he observed impassively. Or so it would appear, the Prince of Gotham evaluating every avenue, watching as his young ward did what he could not, and was thankful for it. One life had been saved, the question now stood revealed, how best to save another?
Ted Grant was far less reserved, the grey haired veteran an embodiment of his emotions, square jawed clenched and shoulders rigid. Stout and wide, he was a caged animal waiting to be unleashed, chafing beneath the necessity of inaction.
They both watched on in silence as the young Stephanie was now standing, the tiny girl upright on her bed and demanding a good look down Grayson’s sleeves to see what other surprises the Boy Wonder might have been hiding.
Wayne raised his chin and inhaled deeply, not looking to his companion when he began speaking.
“Her Father...”
“No longer relevant,” Grant cut in sharply, “and no next of kin.”
“What you’re asking for, this is no simple matter.”
“Not for yourself it wasn’t,” Ted grunted, arms folding about his barrel chest, “that ain’t yer kid in there neither, didn’t take yer long to fold him into the family though did it?”
Bruce refused to take the bait, “The circumstances were different.”
“How?”
Bruce didn’t answer, not to begin with, a flicker creasing his troubled brow as he watched the infant girl giggle with laughter, a dollar revealed hidden behind her ear. “She won’t remember.”
“I ain’t asking for a sidekick,” Grant turned; temper fraying, “you owe me, Wayne.”
“This isn’t about what I owe you, Grant,” Bruce seethed quietly at the implication, “this is about a traumatised, five-year-old girl!”
Ted, for once in his long life, was the first to back down. “I have to do right by her,” he insisted, his temper bleeding out into vapour, his arm falling limp, “I can’t just leave her to the world, not after this.”
There was no reply, Bruce tensing his fingers into fists behind his back, witnessing another child whose future had been torn away from her.
He was supposed to be the last.
“I’ll see what arrangements I can make.”
“Bruce,” Ted looked up, genuinely surprised, “I...”
“I’m not finished,” Wayne cut him off, the infant child in the room before him yawning and refusing to admit that she was feeling sleepy. “This will be the end of it, Grant. She will move on, you will make sure of it; she will have a life beyond that night. This had damn well be the last time I hear of Stephanie Brown!”
**********
Today...
The Narrows was in her blood, she breathed when it did, which was all kinds of useful when Batgirl was sprinting across the rooftops of its dilapidated tenements. Home sweet home was overbuilt, overpopulated and lived up to its namesake to such an extent that a young woman could relentlessly leap from the ledge of one building to the next when running at full pelt. Haphazardly built by a neglected and forgotten population, no two structures were now the same after decades of improvisation and patchwork repairs, lending her environment the air of an obstacle course as Stephanie Brown navigated the twists and turns, the highs and lows with a series of leaps, vaults and sliding ducks, the teenager not once slowing her momentum.
The moon was full tonight as, with grit and determination, Batgirl kept pace with her objective, the persistently fleeing young man heedlessly crashing through the alleyways below and to her right, panting as though he were being chased by the hounds of hell. Franticly he would look backwards over his shoulder, half imaging some manner of shadow in hot pursuit, unaware that she was in fact high above.
In tandem, the two of them navigated a tight corner; Stephanie vaulting an obstruction was a slick little tumble whilst her target smashed his way over a pair of trashcans. Batgirl had evolved within these last few weeks, and her name was spreading throughout the tight confines of her home, the cast aside citizens of Gotham trading tales amongst themselves of an angel who had come to guard them, one who emerged at night. The criminals, it seemed, were telling entirely different tales.
The burgeoning rise of Batgirl had grown with every tale and, as a smirk emerged upon her lips, Stephanie obeyed the skipping of her heart as she reached one final ledge. With a giddy combination of terror and exhilaration, the young blonde leapt into the unknown, diving into what was surely a suicidal fall. Instead, as the alleyway opened out beneath her, the Batgirl grasped the hem of her new cape, one gifted to her by her Uncle and, as it billowed out like the wings of her namesake, the fabric momentarily turned rigid and caught a gust of the sudden updraft of air.
Her plummet became rapid instead of fatal and, as the concrete far below rushed up to greet her, Batgirl could not have stuck her landing any better, slamming down right atop her fleeing perp and knocking the squealing, young man sprawling. She pinned him to the ground with a knee wedged against his spine before the fabric of her cape had even returned to normal, falling about her slender shoulders like a shroud.
“I don’t suppose you would be up for letting me try that again,” Stephanie queried as she adjusted her posture, ensuring that the young man wouldn’t be going anywhere she didn’t want him to. “I could really use the practice.”
“MY LEG!!” he protested, squirming to no avail as he struggled to inhale a fresh breath, “you broke my leg!”
“Oh I did not,” Batgirl denied without a great deal of sympathy, the teenager taking a quick, cheeky look over her own shoulder just to make sure. “Trying to get me into trouble, points against you sir.”
“What the hell do you want!?!” the young man’s protests persisted, his cheek pressed down hard against the concrete, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve never hurt nobody!!”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Mr. Kaidan,” Stephanie began to ruffle around the confines of the young man’s pockets; quickly finding what she was looking for.
He froze, eyes twitching in concern, “how do you know my name?”
With a swift, severe motion, Batgirl leaned into a crouch that brought her lips beside his trembling ear, several degrees of levity evaporating from her tone as though they had never been there, replaced by a note of audible threat. “I pay attention,” she ground her knee into his back, bringing the small container of narcotics she had looted from his person right into his line of sight, “which is unfortunate for the likes of you. Peddling this kind of crap is a swift and certain way to make it onto my shit list, one I’m keen to make shorter right here and now!”
“I JUST SELL IT!” Kaidan insisted with rising panic, the small of his back protesting as the ball of a knee was driven deeper into it. “I don’t make it; I’m just a middle man!”
“So, I should be having a chat with someone else?”
“Yes!!”
Batgirl leaned in closer, “Do tell.”
Kaidan didn’t answer, not immediately, either finding some slither of courage, or some greater fear taking hold.
“Look,” Stephanie pressed, her mannerisms buoyed once again by a note of levity as she reached for her belt, “I’m all kinds of reasonable. You can tell me who your supplier is, or,” she brought a new item into his restricted line of sight, a small rod which, with a flick of a switch, rapidly expanded out into a formidable staff with a dramatic crack.
“I can find new and exciting places to insert this!”
**********
The last time Stephanie had used this window to sneak in and out, she had been fourteen years old and destined for heartbreak. While her judgement remained suspect when it came to the involvement of fast motorcycles, times had changed, and these days it was Batgirl who slipped into her Uncles spare room under the cover of midnight.
Once, not so long ago, it had been her room, and she found it oddly comforting to find how little it had changed in her absence, a welcome refuge for her following the break in at the Wildcat’s. Closed down for renovations following the shoot out, Stephanie had temporally moved back in with her Uncle, and it was as welcoming now as it always had been.
Bunny Big Ears had returned with her and, after the young women slid the window shut behind her, she smiled at her constant companion from childhood; pulling off the bandanna she wore as a mask and pulled it down over the oversized teddy’s head. After tapping his nose, she began to ruffle her own blonde mane in a fruitless endeavour to fix her helmet hair before making her way into the apartment proper, still otherwise wearing the entirety of her Batgirl attire, the cover of night no longer hiding how haphazard her gear really was.
She passed through the living room without a word, her Uncle asleep on the couch, falling into a slumber right where he had been sitting, TV still on and cycling the news from the day before. Stephanie opted to leave the old man to it, heading into the kitchen and raiding the refrigerator, groaning at the near predictable lack of healthy nourishment, scraping together what she could to feed her grumbling tummy. Closing the door afterwards, she grabbed a sheet of paper and proceeded to scribble down everything she would need to get from the store tomorrow, her Uncle’s diet about to encounter a rapid improvement whether he liked it or not, Brown securing the list with a magnet once she was done.
Stifling a yawn that threatened to overtake the teenager, Stephanie headed back into the living room, a second yawn catching her utterly off guard as she inhaled deeply. With adrenaline fading, fatigue was rapidly setting in, the young women rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand before she dropped down heavily onto the couch, the petite, would be Gotham Vigilante nestling in close to her Uncle.
Ted grunted something incomprehensible in his continued slumber before settling, his Niece bringing her head to rest against his heavyset shoulder, her eyelids feeling heavier by the moment. She scowled in annoyance before adjusting her Kevlar vest, the buckles digging into her kidneys, but after a suitable amount of fidgeting, she managed to make herself comfortable, Batgirl as safe as safe could be cuddled against her parent.
She barely absorbing what was being said on the broadcast, images blurring together and words rapidly losing context. Closing her eyes with a deep sigh, her mind tumbled over the evening’s discoveries. Stephanie had a location, which would be easy enough to get to, and she had a name, one that was slightly less helpful.
It felt familiar and yet also fanciful, like everything in this town, and somehow she found it less intimidating than it was supposed to be.
Batgirl slipped effortlessly in a deep and untroubled slumber, one name circling her thoughts.
...
Scarecrow.