Stephanie Brown was busy making herself useful.
As she darted down the hall in her hip hugging jeans and purple hoodie, the youthful blonde positively marvelled at the acres of elbow room she was able to liberally employ.
The Gotham City Central Hospital was far from empty, nurses, doctors, visitors and the occasional patient being shuttled around via gurney all vying for space within the spotless ward, and yet compared to the shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose cramped confines of the Narrows, Gotham’s oft forgotten, always lamented district, Stephanie was almost tempted to perform a backflip.
She didn’t, the teen far too occupied with performing her appointed task, box held on one hand and a liberated crispy cream donut in the other, zeroing in on her acquired objective. The noise that emerged from deep within her torso was one of frankly unseemly pleasure as the sweet, sugar laced and doughy treat passed her lips on its way down to her hungry tum. Forbidden donut, she reminded herself without a hint recrimination, these were meant to be for someone else. Rationalising her (surely minor) sin came both swiftly and easily, after all, last night had involved a considerable amount of running, and she could claim with a straight face that the Batgirl would approve.
And who would argue with Batgirl?
Exactly.
Finding the room she was looking for, she licked her fingers clean to hide the evidence, composing herself before she reached for the door handle... only for it to swing open wide before her!
Overbalanced and unprepared, Stephanie released a startled yelp and tumbled forwards, dignity be damned as she faced the prospect of falling face first on the floor. Fortunately for her equilibrium, an equally surprised Nicholas Gage was there to catch her, the twenty-something year old wincing as the slight young woman fell into his arms, one of which was still sporting a bullet wound.
Flustered, embarrassed and determined to recover her composure as rapidly as possible, Brown shot back up to upright, untangling herself from the strapping Detective in the process with a swift back peddle, trying her best to look dignified as she glided on past with a clearing of her throat. “These are for you!” she announced, holding out what remained of the box of crispy creams, seemingly oblivious to the pastry that surrounded her lips.
Perplexed, confused, the stubble faced Nicholas could do little more than accept, tentatively receiving the gift as he looked between the door to his Hospital room and the teenager who had let herself in. One he barely knew, “Stephanie?”
“Yes!” she agreed, kicking herself upon realising how stupid that sounded, “I have come to visit you, as people do in hospital, as I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experience with.” She paused, feeling utterly self conscious, Stephanie looking about the young man’s room as if to prove her point... and finding suspiciously little evidence to back up such a hypothesis. If anything, she could almost suspect that she was the first.
For his own part, the raven haired detective remained at a loss for anything to say, holding the box of presented donuts in one hand and somehow trying to process events with his other. Fortunately his brain caught up, and he was able to diffuse the situation before it could become any more intolerably awkward.
“Thank you,” he offered, his inflection sincere enough, seemingly not quite as aware as Stephanie that all he was wearing at the moment was a medical gown which left little to the imagination concerning his rear. “Have a seat?”
With an utterly visible exhale of relief, Stephanie took him at his offer, the young blonde finding one such chair and dropping herself down onto it, assuring herself that all was well.
Nicholas, after some thought, retreated back to his bed, sitting on its edge with hands folding over his knees, “You really didn’t have to come.”
“Sure I did,” Brown stated as though he was missing something obvious, “the last time I saw you, you were bleeding all over me. I had to make sure you were ok.”
Gage fell silent, looking down for a moment before releasing a pent up sigh, “Stephanie, what I did, if I had known you were lodging upstairs, I wouldn’t have...”
“...Broken in?” the teen finished, “I should hope you wouldn’t regardless, Detective.”
Nicholas sighed again, rubbing his chin before continuing, “Right, of course, I thought Wildcat’s was empty, if I had known you were lodging upstairs, I wouldn’t have put you in the middle of a fire fight.”
“It’s ok.”
“No, it’s not,” Nicholas leant forwards, his eyes far more weary than the rest of him, “I jeopardised your safety, and that’s unacceptable, the least I can do is apologise.”
“The least you can do?” she queried.
Without a word, and only a moment’s hesitation, the young man handed her the open box, Stephanie seizing the opportunity to liberate her second donut. All part of the plan.
“It’s fine,” the smile she presented not entirely forced, “I mean, I got to see Batman, when do we ever get to see Batman in the Narrows?” She paused, lingering on the thought, “Never, that’s when.”
“It wasn’t Batman who saved my life,” Nicholas declared flatly, his meaning clear.
Stephanie, for her own part, suddenly had trouble swallowing, finding that blood was seemingly able to both rush to, and from her head at the same time.
“Just, do me a favour, don’t make a habit of it ok,” Gage continued. “The Commissioner is going to kill me as it is. For my own sake, Stephanie, promise me you’re staying out of trouble.”
Brown didn’t have an answer, not until she could make a good show of having a mouthful of donut, which she hoped against hope would make her a more convincing liar.
“Absolutely,” she nodded, clearing her throat, “Girl stuff, nothing but.”
**********
That night...
With the benefit of hindsight, this had been a terrible idea.
Almost by design, the Narrows was a tinderbox waiting for an excuse, one match and the fire had spread to almost every level of the tenement building. Navigation had rapidly become impossible, heat pulsing from the walls as the flames consumed every inch of tinder like an carnivore through a meat factory, searching for its final victims with almost animalistic intent.
Batgirl wasn’t alone, which was perhaps the only thing preventing her from panicking, doing her best not to choke on the increasingly thick clouds of smoke. The boy held onto her hand with both of his own like a life line, squeezing so hard it almost hurt, Stephanie rapidly guiding the endangered child through the inferno with all the confidence of someone who knew where she was going.
Up was proving to be the only viable option, the stairwells leading down utterly untenable, even as she looked down over a railing into a picture of hell itself. She swallowed, squeezing the boys hand back even as her heart beat a thousand miles a minute.
“I want my mom!” the child pleaded, even as he was pulled in his savours wake.
“And we’ll find her real soon,” Batgirl promised, forced to come to a stop, almost skidding as she came to realise that her chosen avenue was cut off. A beam had collapsed, the ceiling on this level buckling in on itself and cutting any further attempts of continued ascent. The smoke had become blinding, swiftly driving visibility down to zero.
She swallowed again, lamenting her lack of saliva, her throat as raw as sandpaper. Stephanie retreated half a step, away from the fresh barricade as she forced herself to calm down and slow her breathing, considering her options. There was one way out, one path left open to her, although it felt like suicide.
Her mind made up, Batgirl dropped down to one knee and looked the boy under her protection in the eye, the most comforting of smiles that she could muster finding its way to her features. “You know who I am, right?”
The boy nodded.
“Cool,” she smiled a little more, grasping both of his small shoulders, “and what’s your name?”
“Terry.”
“That’s a great name, I need you to do something for me Terry, can you do that?”
The boy nodded.
“I need you to hug me as hard as you can,” she urged, Batgirl pooling her own courage, “I need you to hold on and never let go, no matter what, ok Terry?”
The boy nodded again, not understanding but not caring, the child swinging his arms about her shoulders and legs about her hips, clinging to Batgirl like a spider monkey.
“Ok,” Stephanie inhaled a deep breath, holding it as she gazed straight ahead. With a burst of fresh adrenaline, Batgirl surged forwards, launching into a sprint with a boy strapped across her chest. A half imagined roar permutated every inch of the tenement block as the infernos final two victims made a mad dash for freedom, fire chasing her every step as salvation lay within reach.
As she reached the window, Batgirl jumped!
Turning her shoulder into the obstacle, the glass shattered beneath her body weight and, with a rush of fresh air, they were outside... terrifyingly high above ground level.
Those far below looked up and gasped, a ripple of horror consuming the crowd as they witnessed the two figures, in a fit of desperation, making a leap that could only end in their demise. A cry of horror accompanied their alarm as, for a single moment, the two figures were held suspended in the air, before gravity took hold to drag them earthwards.
Batgirl could not have been more terrified, and yet an odd sense of serenity accompanied her panic as she began to freefall, her life, for one moment, fundamentally simple.
With Terry still wrapped about her chest, Stephanie ignored the rapidly approaching pavement, turning her lithe frame about and, praying that the boy did what she asked, let go of him. The child remained attached, clinging onto the Narrows Protector for dear life, and Batgirl was free to grasp the hems of her cape, spreading it out wide just as she had been practicing. The specialised fabric became rigid, the gift from her Uncle surging into life and, with a dramatic flourish worthy of her namesake, caught the rushing updraft of air to rapidly slow her descent.
The crowd below watched on with awe as the rescue unfolded, a child plucked from the inferno and, upon the wings of his savour, was glided into the arms of his thankful mother...
**********
In the minutes that immediately followed the dramatic rescue and Batgirl’s unannounced and unobserved departure from the scene, Stephanie was largely busy trying to keep her lungs from forcibly ejecting from her chest. With great gulps of air, the young blonde forcibly slumped backwards against a chimney, the vigilante out of sight on a nearby rooftop, a panic attack threatening to overwhelm her.
She pulled off the homemade bandanna that operated as her mask and felt relieved as fresh air bathed her features, the saturating stink of smoke evaporating slowly. Her breathing remained heavy as she closed her blue eyes, head tilting backwards towards the heavens as her every muscle loosened, the stress of her mad dash through a burning building taking its toll.
Stephanie wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she opened her eyes again, but with the fire still burning a block over; she could only imagine it hadn’t been too long. Her breathing eventually returned to normal, and it was almost idly that she looked down at the increasingly ragged mask laying immobile on her lap, the eyeholes looking back up at her expectantly.
She grimaced, every inch of the teenager feeling uncomfortable, her Kevlar vest and cargo pants digging into every angle of her lithe frame in unwelcome places, reminding her just how ramshackle the majority of her guise was. Only the cape still felt welcoming, the unidentified fabric snug about her shoulders, her Uncle’s gift the only part of the apparel to survive the inferno unscathed. She thanked him again for the hundredth time, and considered asking him for a complete ensemble for the same amount of them.
With one last, lung filling breath she considered calling it a night there and then, the Narrows protected enough for one evening and a good job done. She had saved a life, Stephanie realised, the warmth growing inside her torso almost giddy, she had saved a life.
If nothing else, she could always lay claim to that.
She smiled, for one moment, fear banished by contentment.
“Come on,” she insisted to no-one but herself, “get up, work to do.”
With a groan that was heavy, Stephanie dusted herself off and slowly rose to standing, fitting the bandanna back down across her features as Batgirl gazed out across the Narrows haphazard skyline. The fire had been distraction, albeit a dramatic one, and she had business elsewhere tonight, a toxin spreading throughout her streets like a weed, one she intended to burn out before it had the chance to take root fully.
With a surge of fresh adrenaline, Batgirl was off at a sprint once more, leaping from one rooftop to the next, navigating the Narrows as only one born there could do.
As well as one other...
**********
Much to her annoyance, her bandanna had become an irritant, Stephanie unable to resist scratching underneath the soot saturated fabric. In a fit of frustration she pulled it off, shaking out her hair as she rubbed her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand. She sneezed before looking at her homemade mask in frustration, weighing up her options as she crouched in front of a skylight.
Now deep into the evening, the only illumination came from the confines of the warehouse beneath her, the rooftop she crouched upon otherwise shrouded in darkness, pinpricks of light ghosting across the docks from Gotham proper.
Stephanie sighed deeply before running a frustrated hand through her blonde mane, resigning herself to the fact that she may have to rethink her strategy. Those within the warehouse were clearly up to no good, a veritable conveyor belt at work engineering the poison that was being peddled on her streets, men wearing overalls hovering here and there as they produced the narcotics. So close, and yet so very far, she could hardly leap down amongst them with no means to disguise her identity.
The mask made her feel emboldened...
“So, what’s the plan?”
Stephanie reacted like a startled cat upon the unexpected appearance of a second person, the stranger she hadn’t heard approaching standing at her shoulder. With bright eyes opened wide, she instinctively embraced the fight of flight reaction and pivoted on the spot, winding up and unleashing an almighty haymaker that would have made her Uncle have second thoughts. The right hook that she unleashed had knocked more than one sparring partner on her backside, and yet tonight it connected with nothing but air...
The stranger ducked low, darting away and making ground with surprising swiftness, the gentlemen garbed in black and navy never the less revealing his own surprise. He back peddled several paces and released a burst of good natured laughter, arms upraised with palms faced out in surrender, a smile plastered across his features that could not possess more sincerity.
“Oh, wow, ok,” he chuckled further, a defiant Stephanie remaining wary, her own fists upraised in an aggressive stance, “that would have really hurt.”
Brown, on the wrong foot, began to form words before opting to remain silent, mitts up at the ready in the case the stranger attempted anything else underhanded.
“Sorry,” he apologised, not a hint of duplicity in his nature, “that was rude, bad habits, I should have introduced myself. Nightwing.”
Stephanie paused, her shoulders still poised for a renewed offensive, but the name, the look, it was one that she knew all too well. Everyone in Gotham knew of Nightwing. Her stance grew ever so slightly less aggressive.
“And you would be?” he queried, seemingly genuinely curious.
Brown hesitated, face to face with one of Gotham’s original vigilantes; while she stood garbed in a haphazard collection of cast offs and make dos.
“Batgirl,” she finally announced, surprised by her own authority.
“Well,” Nightwing smiled, giving up his own stance of surrender in order to replace it with an open hand, “pleasure to meet you Batgirl, it seems that we’re been following a similar trail.”
Stephanie blinked, unsure of what to make of all this before dropping her own defensive stance, the slightest tremor of suspicion still gnawing at her nerves. She had expected some manner of recrimination, of mockery and yet... and yet she detected none. She took his hand and shook.
“Something wrong?” he queried, motioning to the bandanna that she had dropped and, in a fit of embarrassment, Brown realised she was standing there without her mask on.
“No, it’s,” she sighed deeply, unable to keep the crimson from flushing to her cheeks, “it’s itchy.”
“Yeah, smoke will do that to fabrics, may I?” he queried again, reaching for one of his pouches. Stephanie opted to not stop him, the gentleman pulling an item from one. “Hold still for a moment,” he instructed, revealing the domino mask and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, eased it into place over the girls eyes.
Batgirl blinked several times, becoming used to the odd sensation until, a few moments later, she couldn’t even feel the presence of the mask at all. Moving her fingers up to touch it, she could confirm that it was most defiantly there and yet... it felt as natural as her own face.
“It suits you,” Nightwing observed, his own spirits buoyed by Batgirl’s rising own. “So, as I was saying, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” Batgirl cocked her head, surprised that Nightwing was offering deference.
“Sure, it’s your house, Batgirl,” Nightwing opened his arms out wide, encompassing the district known by most as the Narrows, “it’s your plan.”
Stephanie bit her lip, gathering up her thoughts before steeling her resolve.
“Kill the power,” Batgirl began, “jump down, run amok, call the police.”
“Well, imagine that,” Nightwing observed as he pulled out a pair of batons, spinning them with a flourish, “sounds a lot like my plan,” he revealed before, as if they had been waiting for the correct prompting, the lights within the warehouse cut out with a violent flash...
**********
Batgirl’s rapid descent down through the skylight was accompanied by a billowing of her cape; her descent slowed just enough to prevent her legs from breaking although she still managed to crash her way through a table. She ducked and rolled even as Nightwing followed in her wake, the gymnast spinning through the air and sending a baton flying, heralding his arrival by smashing it against a criminal’s nose.
Stephanie fought down the need for a minor huff as her companion had drawn first blood, although any potential need for feelings of inadequacy were quickly quashed as she followed through on her roll. Riding her momentum she shot up quickly, the palm of her hand leading the way as she thrust it hard against the underside of a hooligans jaw, snapping the stunned man’s head backwards and sending him flying.
Panic spread quickly, the crowd of criminals caught off guard and stumbling in the dark, the shock of the dynamic duos arrivals working to perfection, all they needed to do was follow it up with awe.
Nightwing unleashed a second weapon from his arsenal, pellets produced from his belt scattered through the air as he spun in a dramatic arc. Smoke burst from every capsule and further chaos ensued, shouts echoing off the walls and availing them nothing as Gotham’s vigilantes waded through their midst.
Batgirl was undeniably impressed; the original protégée of Batman a marvel to beyond, moving like a ghost and evading danger before it even had a chance to reach him. He was like a fighter plane, darting in and out, and Stephanie was more than a little surprised to find that, by comparison, she fought far more like a tank. She rampaged through their befuddled ranks, right hooks followed by savage elbows and shattering knees slammed deep into unsuspecting guts. She left a trail of broken bodies in her violent wake, never slowing for a moment lest they lose their advantage.
“Guys, really,” she announced, her heart beating with an increasingly familiar, heady cocktail excitement and terror, staying just one step ahead of disaster. She leapt; right foot connecting with a table which she used to launch herself even higher, her inevitable descent lending further momentum to yet another blistering right hook that she ploughed deep into the cheek of yet another hooligan. “Feel free to surrender!”
Angry shouts were to be her only answer and, as she ducked low and spun about to avoid a wild haymaker thrown in her direction, she slammed a pointed elbow into the man’s open groin for his troubles.
“No?” she made a sigh of resignation, “Then I guess a solid pummelling is still in order!”
She was on her feet again, Batgirl surging...
Before her entire world became enveloped in gas!! It appeared without warning, spitting into her face like venom from a snake, the mist emerald in hue and enveloping the entirety of her features, suffocating her like a blanket. Batgirl stumbled backwards; panicking and she coughed and hacked, involuntarily wheezing as she breathed in deep the repugnant gas.
The young blonde fell, her world becoming muted, sights, sounds, everything falling away as her heart beat faster, barely aware of kicks and punches landing as she scarcely acknowledged the impacts. Fear gripped her every fibre as she beheld her hands, her palms bathed in blood...
Blood...
Blood...
Her Fathers blood...
And there before her emerged a figure, twisted, forlorn and birthed from the oldest nightmares.
“Scarecrow,” Batgirl exhaled with a frightened whisper, “...Scarecrow...”
TO BE CONCLUDED...
As she darted down the hall in her hip hugging jeans and purple hoodie, the youthful blonde positively marvelled at the acres of elbow room she was able to liberally employ.
The Gotham City Central Hospital was far from empty, nurses, doctors, visitors and the occasional patient being shuttled around via gurney all vying for space within the spotless ward, and yet compared to the shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose cramped confines of the Narrows, Gotham’s oft forgotten, always lamented district, Stephanie was almost tempted to perform a backflip.
She didn’t, the teen far too occupied with performing her appointed task, box held on one hand and a liberated crispy cream donut in the other, zeroing in on her acquired objective. The noise that emerged from deep within her torso was one of frankly unseemly pleasure as the sweet, sugar laced and doughy treat passed her lips on its way down to her hungry tum. Forbidden donut, she reminded herself without a hint recrimination, these were meant to be for someone else. Rationalising her (surely minor) sin came both swiftly and easily, after all, last night had involved a considerable amount of running, and she could claim with a straight face that the Batgirl would approve.
And who would argue with Batgirl?
Exactly.
Finding the room she was looking for, she licked her fingers clean to hide the evidence, composing herself before she reached for the door handle... only for it to swing open wide before her!
Overbalanced and unprepared, Stephanie released a startled yelp and tumbled forwards, dignity be damned as she faced the prospect of falling face first on the floor. Fortunately for her equilibrium, an equally surprised Nicholas Gage was there to catch her, the twenty-something year old wincing as the slight young woman fell into his arms, one of which was still sporting a bullet wound.
Flustered, embarrassed and determined to recover her composure as rapidly as possible, Brown shot back up to upright, untangling herself from the strapping Detective in the process with a swift back peddle, trying her best to look dignified as she glided on past with a clearing of her throat. “These are for you!” she announced, holding out what remained of the box of crispy creams, seemingly oblivious to the pastry that surrounded her lips.
Perplexed, confused, the stubble faced Nicholas could do little more than accept, tentatively receiving the gift as he looked between the door to his Hospital room and the teenager who had let herself in. One he barely knew, “Stephanie?”
“Yes!” she agreed, kicking herself upon realising how stupid that sounded, “I have come to visit you, as people do in hospital, as I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experience with.” She paused, feeling utterly self conscious, Stephanie looking about the young man’s room as if to prove her point... and finding suspiciously little evidence to back up such a hypothesis. If anything, she could almost suspect that she was the first.
For his own part, the raven haired detective remained at a loss for anything to say, holding the box of presented donuts in one hand and somehow trying to process events with his other. Fortunately his brain caught up, and he was able to diffuse the situation before it could become any more intolerably awkward.
“Thank you,” he offered, his inflection sincere enough, seemingly not quite as aware as Stephanie that all he was wearing at the moment was a medical gown which left little to the imagination concerning his rear. “Have a seat?”
With an utterly visible exhale of relief, Stephanie took him at his offer, the young blonde finding one such chair and dropping herself down onto it, assuring herself that all was well.
Nicholas, after some thought, retreated back to his bed, sitting on its edge with hands folding over his knees, “You really didn’t have to come.”
“Sure I did,” Brown stated as though he was missing something obvious, “the last time I saw you, you were bleeding all over me. I had to make sure you were ok.”
Gage fell silent, looking down for a moment before releasing a pent up sigh, “Stephanie, what I did, if I had known you were lodging upstairs, I wouldn’t have...”
“...Broken in?” the teen finished, “I should hope you wouldn’t regardless, Detective.”
Nicholas sighed again, rubbing his chin before continuing, “Right, of course, I thought Wildcat’s was empty, if I had known you were lodging upstairs, I wouldn’t have put you in the middle of a fire fight.”
“It’s ok.”
“No, it’s not,” Nicholas leant forwards, his eyes far more weary than the rest of him, “I jeopardised your safety, and that’s unacceptable, the least I can do is apologise.”
“The least you can do?” she queried.
Without a word, and only a moment’s hesitation, the young man handed her the open box, Stephanie seizing the opportunity to liberate her second donut. All part of the plan.
“It’s fine,” the smile she presented not entirely forced, “I mean, I got to see Batman, when do we ever get to see Batman in the Narrows?” She paused, lingering on the thought, “Never, that’s when.”
“It wasn’t Batman who saved my life,” Nicholas declared flatly, his meaning clear.
Stephanie, for her own part, suddenly had trouble swallowing, finding that blood was seemingly able to both rush to, and from her head at the same time.
“Just, do me a favour, don’t make a habit of it ok,” Gage continued. “The Commissioner is going to kill me as it is. For my own sake, Stephanie, promise me you’re staying out of trouble.”
Brown didn’t have an answer, not until she could make a good show of having a mouthful of donut, which she hoped against hope would make her a more convincing liar.
“Absolutely,” she nodded, clearing her throat, “Girl stuff, nothing but.”
**********
That night...
With the benefit of hindsight, this had been a terrible idea.
Almost by design, the Narrows was a tinderbox waiting for an excuse, one match and the fire had spread to almost every level of the tenement building. Navigation had rapidly become impossible, heat pulsing from the walls as the flames consumed every inch of tinder like an carnivore through a meat factory, searching for its final victims with almost animalistic intent.
Batgirl wasn’t alone, which was perhaps the only thing preventing her from panicking, doing her best not to choke on the increasingly thick clouds of smoke. The boy held onto her hand with both of his own like a life line, squeezing so hard it almost hurt, Stephanie rapidly guiding the endangered child through the inferno with all the confidence of someone who knew where she was going.
Up was proving to be the only viable option, the stairwells leading down utterly untenable, even as she looked down over a railing into a picture of hell itself. She swallowed, squeezing the boys hand back even as her heart beat a thousand miles a minute.
“I want my mom!” the child pleaded, even as he was pulled in his savours wake.
“And we’ll find her real soon,” Batgirl promised, forced to come to a stop, almost skidding as she came to realise that her chosen avenue was cut off. A beam had collapsed, the ceiling on this level buckling in on itself and cutting any further attempts of continued ascent. The smoke had become blinding, swiftly driving visibility down to zero.
She swallowed again, lamenting her lack of saliva, her throat as raw as sandpaper. Stephanie retreated half a step, away from the fresh barricade as she forced herself to calm down and slow her breathing, considering her options. There was one way out, one path left open to her, although it felt like suicide.
Her mind made up, Batgirl dropped down to one knee and looked the boy under her protection in the eye, the most comforting of smiles that she could muster finding its way to her features. “You know who I am, right?”
The boy nodded.
“Cool,” she smiled a little more, grasping both of his small shoulders, “and what’s your name?”
“Terry.”
“That’s a great name, I need you to do something for me Terry, can you do that?”
The boy nodded.
“I need you to hug me as hard as you can,” she urged, Batgirl pooling her own courage, “I need you to hold on and never let go, no matter what, ok Terry?”
The boy nodded again, not understanding but not caring, the child swinging his arms about her shoulders and legs about her hips, clinging to Batgirl like a spider monkey.
“Ok,” Stephanie inhaled a deep breath, holding it as she gazed straight ahead. With a burst of fresh adrenaline, Batgirl surged forwards, launching into a sprint with a boy strapped across her chest. A half imagined roar permutated every inch of the tenement block as the infernos final two victims made a mad dash for freedom, fire chasing her every step as salvation lay within reach.
As she reached the window, Batgirl jumped!
Turning her shoulder into the obstacle, the glass shattered beneath her body weight and, with a rush of fresh air, they were outside... terrifyingly high above ground level.
Those far below looked up and gasped, a ripple of horror consuming the crowd as they witnessed the two figures, in a fit of desperation, making a leap that could only end in their demise. A cry of horror accompanied their alarm as, for a single moment, the two figures were held suspended in the air, before gravity took hold to drag them earthwards.
Batgirl could not have been more terrified, and yet an odd sense of serenity accompanied her panic as she began to freefall, her life, for one moment, fundamentally simple.
With Terry still wrapped about her chest, Stephanie ignored the rapidly approaching pavement, turning her lithe frame about and, praying that the boy did what she asked, let go of him. The child remained attached, clinging onto the Narrows Protector for dear life, and Batgirl was free to grasp the hems of her cape, spreading it out wide just as she had been practicing. The specialised fabric became rigid, the gift from her Uncle surging into life and, with a dramatic flourish worthy of her namesake, caught the rushing updraft of air to rapidly slow her descent.
The crowd below watched on with awe as the rescue unfolded, a child plucked from the inferno and, upon the wings of his savour, was glided into the arms of his thankful mother...
**********
In the minutes that immediately followed the dramatic rescue and Batgirl’s unannounced and unobserved departure from the scene, Stephanie was largely busy trying to keep her lungs from forcibly ejecting from her chest. With great gulps of air, the young blonde forcibly slumped backwards against a chimney, the vigilante out of sight on a nearby rooftop, a panic attack threatening to overwhelm her.
She pulled off the homemade bandanna that operated as her mask and felt relieved as fresh air bathed her features, the saturating stink of smoke evaporating slowly. Her breathing remained heavy as she closed her blue eyes, head tilting backwards towards the heavens as her every muscle loosened, the stress of her mad dash through a burning building taking its toll.
Stephanie wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she opened her eyes again, but with the fire still burning a block over; she could only imagine it hadn’t been too long. Her breathing eventually returned to normal, and it was almost idly that she looked down at the increasingly ragged mask laying immobile on her lap, the eyeholes looking back up at her expectantly.
She grimaced, every inch of the teenager feeling uncomfortable, her Kevlar vest and cargo pants digging into every angle of her lithe frame in unwelcome places, reminding her just how ramshackle the majority of her guise was. Only the cape still felt welcoming, the unidentified fabric snug about her shoulders, her Uncle’s gift the only part of the apparel to survive the inferno unscathed. She thanked him again for the hundredth time, and considered asking him for a complete ensemble for the same amount of them.
With one last, lung filling breath she considered calling it a night there and then, the Narrows protected enough for one evening and a good job done. She had saved a life, Stephanie realised, the warmth growing inside her torso almost giddy, she had saved a life.
If nothing else, she could always lay claim to that.
She smiled, for one moment, fear banished by contentment.
“Come on,” she insisted to no-one but herself, “get up, work to do.”
With a groan that was heavy, Stephanie dusted herself off and slowly rose to standing, fitting the bandanna back down across her features as Batgirl gazed out across the Narrows haphazard skyline. The fire had been distraction, albeit a dramatic one, and she had business elsewhere tonight, a toxin spreading throughout her streets like a weed, one she intended to burn out before it had the chance to take root fully.
With a surge of fresh adrenaline, Batgirl was off at a sprint once more, leaping from one rooftop to the next, navigating the Narrows as only one born there could do.
As well as one other...
**********
Much to her annoyance, her bandanna had become an irritant, Stephanie unable to resist scratching underneath the soot saturated fabric. In a fit of frustration she pulled it off, shaking out her hair as she rubbed her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand. She sneezed before looking at her homemade mask in frustration, weighing up her options as she crouched in front of a skylight.
Now deep into the evening, the only illumination came from the confines of the warehouse beneath her, the rooftop she crouched upon otherwise shrouded in darkness, pinpricks of light ghosting across the docks from Gotham proper.
Stephanie sighed deeply before running a frustrated hand through her blonde mane, resigning herself to the fact that she may have to rethink her strategy. Those within the warehouse were clearly up to no good, a veritable conveyor belt at work engineering the poison that was being peddled on her streets, men wearing overalls hovering here and there as they produced the narcotics. So close, and yet so very far, she could hardly leap down amongst them with no means to disguise her identity.
The mask made her feel emboldened...
“So, what’s the plan?”
Stephanie reacted like a startled cat upon the unexpected appearance of a second person, the stranger she hadn’t heard approaching standing at her shoulder. With bright eyes opened wide, she instinctively embraced the fight of flight reaction and pivoted on the spot, winding up and unleashing an almighty haymaker that would have made her Uncle have second thoughts. The right hook that she unleashed had knocked more than one sparring partner on her backside, and yet tonight it connected with nothing but air...
The stranger ducked low, darting away and making ground with surprising swiftness, the gentlemen garbed in black and navy never the less revealing his own surprise. He back peddled several paces and released a burst of good natured laughter, arms upraised with palms faced out in surrender, a smile plastered across his features that could not possess more sincerity.
“Oh, wow, ok,” he chuckled further, a defiant Stephanie remaining wary, her own fists upraised in an aggressive stance, “that would have really hurt.”
Brown, on the wrong foot, began to form words before opting to remain silent, mitts up at the ready in the case the stranger attempted anything else underhanded.
“Sorry,” he apologised, not a hint of duplicity in his nature, “that was rude, bad habits, I should have introduced myself. Nightwing.”
Stephanie paused, her shoulders still poised for a renewed offensive, but the name, the look, it was one that she knew all too well. Everyone in Gotham knew of Nightwing. Her stance grew ever so slightly less aggressive.
“And you would be?” he queried, seemingly genuinely curious.
Brown hesitated, face to face with one of Gotham’s original vigilantes; while she stood garbed in a haphazard collection of cast offs and make dos.
“Batgirl,” she finally announced, surprised by her own authority.
“Well,” Nightwing smiled, giving up his own stance of surrender in order to replace it with an open hand, “pleasure to meet you Batgirl, it seems that we’re been following a similar trail.”
Stephanie blinked, unsure of what to make of all this before dropping her own defensive stance, the slightest tremor of suspicion still gnawing at her nerves. She had expected some manner of recrimination, of mockery and yet... and yet she detected none. She took his hand and shook.
“Something wrong?” he queried, motioning to the bandanna that she had dropped and, in a fit of embarrassment, Brown realised she was standing there without her mask on.
“No, it’s,” she sighed deeply, unable to keep the crimson from flushing to her cheeks, “it’s itchy.”
“Yeah, smoke will do that to fabrics, may I?” he queried again, reaching for one of his pouches. Stephanie opted to not stop him, the gentleman pulling an item from one. “Hold still for a moment,” he instructed, revealing the domino mask and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, eased it into place over the girls eyes.
Batgirl blinked several times, becoming used to the odd sensation until, a few moments later, she couldn’t even feel the presence of the mask at all. Moving her fingers up to touch it, she could confirm that it was most defiantly there and yet... it felt as natural as her own face.
“It suits you,” Nightwing observed, his own spirits buoyed by Batgirl’s rising own. “So, as I was saying, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” Batgirl cocked her head, surprised that Nightwing was offering deference.
“Sure, it’s your house, Batgirl,” Nightwing opened his arms out wide, encompassing the district known by most as the Narrows, “it’s your plan.”
Stephanie bit her lip, gathering up her thoughts before steeling her resolve.
“Kill the power,” Batgirl began, “jump down, run amok, call the police.”
“Well, imagine that,” Nightwing observed as he pulled out a pair of batons, spinning them with a flourish, “sounds a lot like my plan,” he revealed before, as if they had been waiting for the correct prompting, the lights within the warehouse cut out with a violent flash...
**********
Batgirl’s rapid descent down through the skylight was accompanied by a billowing of her cape; her descent slowed just enough to prevent her legs from breaking although she still managed to crash her way through a table. She ducked and rolled even as Nightwing followed in her wake, the gymnast spinning through the air and sending a baton flying, heralding his arrival by smashing it against a criminal’s nose.
Stephanie fought down the need for a minor huff as her companion had drawn first blood, although any potential need for feelings of inadequacy were quickly quashed as she followed through on her roll. Riding her momentum she shot up quickly, the palm of her hand leading the way as she thrust it hard against the underside of a hooligans jaw, snapping the stunned man’s head backwards and sending him flying.
Panic spread quickly, the crowd of criminals caught off guard and stumbling in the dark, the shock of the dynamic duos arrivals working to perfection, all they needed to do was follow it up with awe.
Nightwing unleashed a second weapon from his arsenal, pellets produced from his belt scattered through the air as he spun in a dramatic arc. Smoke burst from every capsule and further chaos ensued, shouts echoing off the walls and availing them nothing as Gotham’s vigilantes waded through their midst.
Batgirl was undeniably impressed; the original protégée of Batman a marvel to beyond, moving like a ghost and evading danger before it even had a chance to reach him. He was like a fighter plane, darting in and out, and Stephanie was more than a little surprised to find that, by comparison, she fought far more like a tank. She rampaged through their befuddled ranks, right hooks followed by savage elbows and shattering knees slammed deep into unsuspecting guts. She left a trail of broken bodies in her violent wake, never slowing for a moment lest they lose their advantage.
“Guys, really,” she announced, her heart beating with an increasingly familiar, heady cocktail excitement and terror, staying just one step ahead of disaster. She leapt; right foot connecting with a table which she used to launch herself even higher, her inevitable descent lending further momentum to yet another blistering right hook that she ploughed deep into the cheek of yet another hooligan. “Feel free to surrender!”
Angry shouts were to be her only answer and, as she ducked low and spun about to avoid a wild haymaker thrown in her direction, she slammed a pointed elbow into the man’s open groin for his troubles.
“No?” she made a sigh of resignation, “Then I guess a solid pummelling is still in order!”
She was on her feet again, Batgirl surging...
Before her entire world became enveloped in gas!! It appeared without warning, spitting into her face like venom from a snake, the mist emerald in hue and enveloping the entirety of her features, suffocating her like a blanket. Batgirl stumbled backwards; panicking and she coughed and hacked, involuntarily wheezing as she breathed in deep the repugnant gas.
The young blonde fell, her world becoming muted, sights, sounds, everything falling away as her heart beat faster, barely aware of kicks and punches landing as she scarcely acknowledged the impacts. Fear gripped her every fibre as she beheld her hands, her palms bathed in blood...
Blood...
Blood...
Her Fathers blood...
And there before her emerged a figure, twisted, forlorn and birthed from the oldest nightmares.
“Scarecrow,” Batgirl exhaled with a frightened whisper, “...Scarecrow...”
TO BE CONCLUDED...