I own none of this. I wish I did, but I don't. I guess I own the Original Character, but only barely so.

I'd appreciate any feedback and reviews, will do my level best to communicate with all of them, and offer thanks ahead of time.

March 10th
Gotham City, Harbor District
2127 EST

"Move it ya assholes! The boss gives a bonus if we're done early!" One man called out to the rest of his crew. He wasn't lying, though he also wasn't about to tell them the bonus was incentive to get done before there were any Bat problems.

Throughout the warehouse, several men worked to load boxes into the back of a semi. They all had the look of rough men, dressed for the miserable cold of a Gotham pre-spring. A few operated forklifts as well, but two men set themselves apart.

One, dressed in Versace, held a tablet computer, and would occasionally direct one of the crew to a specific parcel. He did so politely and efficiently. Most of the crew called him the model on account of his pretty boy looks. The other, garbed similar to the crew, was a big man, swarthy and outright ugly. As the foreman of the crew, nobody thought to mention that part to him. Named Fred, he knew he was in charge, and took the time to scratch his ample belly while he did nothing but bark orders and chew on an unlit cigar.

As they worked, their pace properly motivated, cars pulled up outside. Most were plain affairs, common on any road. A modified Hummvee, however, joined them. Jet black and chrome, lowered way down, it set itself apart rather effectively. They sat there, lights off, for a few moments, before people began exiting their vehicles. Several did magazine and press checks on firearms, one rookie racking his shotgun twice, only to watch a shell drop and draw the laughter of the rest of his crew.

"Shut it," A voice called out from the Hummvee. This was followed by one of the doors opening, and a titan of a black male human exiting. The Hummer, upon his egress, sprang up several inches. This man ran his hand over his mane of cornrows and then adjusted his tie before cracking his knuckles.

"Let's do this." Brick announced, his deep red suit blending to black in the Gotham darkness. Behind him, his crew followed quietly. Once at the door, Brick grinned a cocky grin, and kicked the bay door of the warehouse, causing it to fracture and splinter, blowing out well wide enough for several of his crew to join him in the firefight they'd decided to pick.

Of course, it was at this moment that a silent observer, tasked only to see what boxes Fred's crew were after and to plant a tracer on the semi, knew she had to do something.

Batgirl immediately dropped several small spheres into the center of the room from her vantage point in the rafters. Upon impact, they immediately began hissing smoke, quickly obscuring the room and giving her the advantage when she dropped into the middle of things.

It was a mercy for costumed crimefighters, especially those without invulnerable skin, that many casual mooks couldn't afford high quality manufactured firearms. Several times as she waded through the battle, she could hear people swearing at jams, magazines falling out, and even a misfire which ended disastrously for the shooter.

As she worked, her margin of safety began increasing as well. It started with a lot of slipping around cover to hit one person at a time, but in less than a minute she was combo-ing these people, dropping two and three as she passed. Batman would be proud of her.

That is, until all hell properly broke loose. She wasn't sure at first what was happening, but she began hearing other people cry out, and several sounds of impact. She knew Brick was nothing to sneeze at, but the sheer mass of these sounds seemed beyond even his prodigious abilities to do harm.

As her smoke screen began to dissipate, several things became clear. One, there was a lot of blood, more than should have been expected in this dustup. Her eyes, trained to be perceptive and intuitive, quickly caught several holes in boxes, holes which were leaking. In addition, as the fight dwindled down, she could hear other people, some moaning, others screaming or crying. It didn't take much to put two and two together to realize people were being trafficked here.

Another smacking sound, this one wet and dull, drew her attention more fully around the room. It was her, a dazed Brick, a cowering man in a knockoff Versace suit, and a single person, floating a few feet off the ground.

He was about as tall as Superboy, but broader. Long dishwater blonde hair floated around him as though he were under water. His clothes were ragged and his shoes were worn to near nothing. He looked like another of Gotham's homeless to Batgirl, but she didn't recognize him from any of her volunteer work.

"You," The floating man said, pointing at the pretty fellow. A gesture and this pretty man was brought face to face with the angry homeless fellow. "You're responsible for this." He said in a voice which carried through the warehouse.

"N..n..no, no I'm not!" Pretty man said. "I only work for…" was all he got out before his face went slack. He remained that way just a short second or two before he snapped back to reality.

"Lying doesn't become you Preston." The floating man said, his simple hand gesture turning into a crushing one.

Batgirl, unsure how to tackle the probable psychic, did what she did best. She observed. The look on the ragged man's (Boy, if she was being honest. He looked like he was probably right around her age) wasn't a look of true commitment. His fingers twitched as he squeezed the man he called Preston, not the steady calm of a practiced killer. His shoulders shuddered as he went about the process of trying to crush his victim. It was clear to her trained eye; he didn't have it in him to kill this man.

"STOP!" she called out, realizing that was her best way of ending the threat. "Do you really want this man's blood on your hands?"

The floating boy stopped squeezing, actually almost dropping Preston, at her exclamation. "Why not? He's had plenty of people killed and he's been selling people for a while now. He's a piece of shit, he deserves to be flushed."

She could hear it in his tone, he wasn't trying to convince her, he was trying to convince himself. "So, you kill him, just like that? Answer death with more death?" She said, slowly approaching him, hands out and a bit to her sides. Her tone was more confident than she felt. Nobody else needed to get hurt here, and one misstep of language was all that stood between this man facing a courtroom or a morgue.

"He'll walk, he's got some badass lawyer." The floating boy drawled, his accent becoming pronounced in his agitation and divided attention. "Three days from now and he's back out here doing it again, only this time maybe he's got somebody you love."

That was it. He'd tipped his hand. "He took somebody you love, didn't he?" Batgirl replied gently. She was within a few feet from them now and had stopped her approach. "That's why you're doing this."

The floating boy shook his head in frustration. "Yeah, and now he's going to answer for it." He said before resuming his crushing.

"We can't find them if you kill him." Batgirl offered. "They might still be alive. He can answer questions now, he can't if he's dead." She watched his demeanor soften again but he still hadn't released this Preston person.

"I went through his mind," he offered. "He's a blind middleman. Ain't got anything to tell."

"I know the questions to ask," Batgirl retorted. "I can help you find whoever it is you're looking for, and you don't have to become a murderer to do it."

That did it, she hoped. The boy casually flung Preston into the side of the truck, but his heart wasn't in it. The pretty man bounced a bit and landed face down, not moving because of self-preservation instead of injury. As the boy tossed Preston, he also lowered himself to the ground, the motion a bit clumsy, like he still wasn't in full control of his powers.

"You promise? You'll help me?" The homeless looking boy asked, almost suspiciously. "I'd appreciate it."

Batgirl was going to reply, but motion out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She turned just in time to see Brick's fist coming straight towards her, and then, she didn't see anything else.