The Red Night
Chapter 1: Bloodbath by Roses
Alexis inhaled a lungful of air and released it slowly, assessing her challenge. Four, maybe three flips? She'd make it in two. She was certain.
With a flawless start, Lexi began her routine, vaulting from the mat into the air and landing on the beam with natural grace. In fluid motion, she flipped once, twice on the narrow surface, before catapulting into the Karcovsky Spiral. With her flawless formulated landing she could easily see success.
Until, the gym doors burst open and a voice shouted. "Batgirl!"
Losing focus, Lexi lost her momentum and landed on her knees. "Angie!" she hissed.
The perky brunette frowned. "Ow, that looks like a nasty break Lexi. May need ice..." With that brisk dismissal, Angie Quinn waved her tablet at their small group of assembled friends. "Batgirl's in the Roland Report! Check it out!"
Groaning, Lexi pulled herself off the mat and limped to the bench, wincing as her knee throbbed with every movement. "Stupid Bat-fanatics..."
"Yeah," replied a voice. "-but they're our Bat-fanatics." Caden Young knelt before his girlfriend and inspected her reddening knee cap. "That's looks like a bad sprain."
"Feels like it too." Lexi winced as Caden pressed a wet cloth to her skin. "Ah, not too much pressure..."
"Okay, let's wrap this up and I'll take you to Rhino's for a sundae. Extra whip cream?"
Lexi eyed his handsome face coyly. "You just like watching me stuff myself silly with food."
He laughed. "Guilty. C'mon, I'll round up the Bat-fans while you shower."
As Lexi limped away she watched Caden stride over to the fawning group of Bat-fanatics.
It seemed Bat-fever had struck Neo Gotham's youth in the past six months and wasn't leaving anytime soon. With the sudden emergence of a Batgirl, it was understandable. After several decades without one, sudden she was there: the Dark Girl Knight. The spunky, shadowy, defender of Gotham in metaphorical pink. A teenaged female vigilante allied with the legendary Great Detective.
And Alexis McGinnis was she.
Stripping out of her sweaty gym clothes, Lexi stepped under the warm spray of the shower, sighing as it coursed over her aching muscles. After five minutes under the spray, she stepped out and toweled off, dressing in a regular clothes- a black mid-thigh skirt with blue accents and a blue long-sleeved off-the-shoulders top.
Her black biker boots completed the look and she smiled approvingly in the full-length mirror of the locker room. Wrapping some sports tape around her knee, she gathered her gym bag and exited the showers, passing the girls' volleyball team on the way.
"Ready?" she asked her friends.
"Ready." replied Fredericka "Ricky" Cortez, eyes stilled glued to the tablet screen.
Halfway to Rhino's, Lexi caved. "Okay, I'll bite. What's new with the Bat-clan?"
"Batgirl is speculated to be that popular teen model Shannon Kyle. Sources say at every appearance, she's never around. And Kyle is so mysterious and beautiful... And passionate about justice. She's studying to be a lawyer, they say. That's why she models." Jared reported.
"As if; Shannon Kyle is a pretty face! Batgirl can fly through the air and take down an army of Jokerz." Angie argued. "I bet she's never even fought for a movie role..."
"She could be, you know, hiding her true talent!" Harrison "Harry" O'Neil rebutted. "She studies under Rashama."
"Oh yeah, yoga is really helpful against crime. Just last week, I took down four T's with the Downward Dog pose." sneered Julie Rogan.
"Well, she's got the wealth to do it, the motive and the body to be out Batgirl!" Jared argued.
"Hey," joked Lexi. "With that reasoning, my mom and I are top contenders for Batgirl too." She did a cheesy Batman pose. "I am Vengeance."
That got her friends laughing. "Dream on; you don't even like Bat-news." Ricky sighed, calming down.
"But with that logic I could be. So could Stephanie Steele, Maggie Proctor, Joan Lumire, Nadine Hoffman..." Lexi checked off all the socialites who met Harry's description. "Hell, if we cut out the rich part, half the Gotham female population fits."
"True..." Harry nodded her head, long auburn hair moving in front of her face.
"Though I would like to see you in skin-tight leather," Caden raked his gaze down Lexi's frame. "I bet you would give any girl hero a run for her money."
Lexi rose up on her tiptoes and put her lips to Caden's. Breaking apart, she purred. "Maybe..."
"Ugh, get a room you love bugs." Harry snorted. She averted her eyes in mock horror. "I think my eyes are failure from overdose on sultry kisses."
Lexi stuck her tongue at Harry. "Then go find Stephen and get busy."
"W-wha-" Harry turned scarlet at the suggestion. "We're just childhood friends!"
"Sure..." Lexi rolled her eyes.
Just as Lexi was going to delve deeper, a familiar car rolled up to the curb. Her godmother, Maxine Gibson, rolled down the window. "Lexi, you forgot about the ceremony again, didn't you?"
"Ceremony?" parroted her friends.
"Oh, right. The Semi-Annual Ceremony of Achievement at the Bruce Wayne Center. That's tonight, right?" Lexi groaned. "Totally slipped my mind."
Her father, Terrence McGinnis, had opened a center of juvenile delinquents at-risk of being turned over to social services. There, they got counseling, tutoring and could intern at one of the many affiliated companies to find a field they liked. Every six months, Terry honored their achievements- whether academic, personal, or career-wise- with a buffet style casually formal ceremony. Lexi had been volunteering as a tutor and would be presenting the awards for Most Achievement, alongside several other student tutors.
"I figured when you didn't show up for rehearsal..." Max said.
"Thanks, Aunt Max." She started getting into the car. "Raincheck on the sundae, Cade?"
"Bet on it."
"Good luck figure out who Batgirl is, guys. Try not to go 'batty'." Lexi punned.
"See ya, socialite!" called Ricky.
##
The Cyclones were crawling all over the building, making it hard for Greg to get a handle on how many brothers and sisters he now had. After most of his original gang split to join that at-risk program sponsored by Wayne-Powers, he'd joined the Cyclones, a motorcycle gang that was feared as a "pack of demons in the form of teenagers". Bobbi, the leader of the regional gang, lounged on a ratty pile of leather and shredded car interior. Her heavy booted feet rested on a quivering Joker.
"Cyclones!" she suddenly yelled, her voice commanding attention. A sharp smile formed on her lips.
The noise level dropped to a whisper in seconds. "We've had...negotiations with the Jokerz in the past, and it seems they've finally come to a head. At least this guy's head."
She sneered at the green haired Joker wannabe under her feet. Bobbi's two centuries, Carlos and Tracks, moved forward to pull the squirming punk to his feet.
"The Prince here is going to be our new friend; aren't you, Prince-y?"
Bobbi stood then. Her five-foot-two frame barely reached the Joker's chin, but she had more muscle on her than three of him.
She smiled, an odd look on her sour-looking face. The tattoo of a stylized cyclone on the side of her face looked unused to such a drastic move.
"What do you say we show him some Cyclone hospitality. Boys?"
On cue, Tracks and Carlos shoved him of the heap and he fell sprawled on the ground. One of the Cyclones handed Bobbi a steel pipe.
She swung it like a bat, aiming gleefully for the cowering Joker. All around Cyclones laughed, jeering as he flinched with every feint. The pipe finally stopped an inch before the Joker's face. With the rusted tip under his chin, she tilted his head up, taking in his crying face. "Lovely... Such a shame the honor of the first swing doesn't go to me..."
With a swift kick she had him sliding across the interior of the rundown warehouse. She pointed out into the crowd. "New recruits, come forward."
Greg made himself move forward, stomach uneasy. He wanted to cause trouble. Train hadn't told him there was anything like killing involved.
She handed the pipe to the closest recruit, a scruffy looking girl with threadbare jeans and a worn shirt. "Take the first hit."
"With pleasure..." The girl pulled back high and swung right for the groin. Greg winced in sympathy.
After three more swings, two of which followed the first position, Bobbi stopped her and handed the pipe off to a beefy guy with a nose thick ring and bald head. "I'm more one for bare hands..."
"Then by all means..." Bobbi waved ceremoniously.
The guy delivered four punches to his chest and face. Bloodied nosed and curled up, the captured Joker looked ready for a hospital. Greg swore he heard the decisive cracking of bones.
"Next."
Three more recruits later and Greg was holding the bloody pipe in his shaking hands. The Joker looked ready for the ICU, his eyes swollen shut and clutching a clearly dislocated arm.
"How does it feel?" murmured Bobbi in his ear, her pleased gone sickening him further. "To have all this power, all this strength... Intoxicating isn't it?"
"Y-yeah..." Greg stammered. "I feel r-really powerful."
"One hit now, recruit. Make it count."
She stepped back, motioning for him to swing.
Feeling sick, Greg mouthed an apology even though the unconscious Joker couldn't see it, and wound up for a direct downward swing on his head. He'd heard if you hit the nerves, the victim couldn't feel it. He hoped he was right.
Putting his full force behind the swing, he was jerked to a stop before it connected.
He jerked this way and that as the Cyclones murmured and grumbled.
"Quit bitching around and finish the fucker!" Bobbi growled.
"I can't move the pipe!" He was suddenly shoved back by something. "The hell?!"
The pipe hovered there for a minute, only to clatter to the ground moments later. A soft, tinkling laugh filled the air.
"I like my roses in rows and rows,
Colored blood red I suppose, suppose..."
A soft, lilting voice sang.
"Who's there?" Demanded Bobbi.
The laugh sounded again. "You looked like you were having fun... I wanted to play..." the voice replied.
"Show yourself!" growled Tracker.
"I'm right here." Out of the shadows stepped a girl is a stark white dress. She was strikingly beautiful, her light brown hair a cloud around her face. She was poetically beautiful, like she belonged on the cover of 'zines, or rubbing noses with powerhouses like Maddox Productions. She was totally out of place in a dingy warehouse surrounded by thugs and possible murderers. She was also out of place in the plain white dress she wore.
She cocked her head to one side and pouted, cupid's bow lips pushing away from her porcelain face. "Are you bullying this poor, weak man?"
"Uh..." Her wide grey eyes stared at Greg.
Bobbi gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "Are you shitting me? Who brought their girlfriend?!" demanded the Cyclone leader.
No one 'fessed up. Greg stepped back from her.
"Girlie, did you step out of a psych ward?"
She gasped and turned to Bobbi. "How did you know?"
Bobbi frowned. "Listen, you bitch. Get gone and stay gone. You have a pretty face, so I like you. But you're two tacos short of a Rhino combo. Get it? If you don't leave, your fair game for my boys."
"Play a game with your boys? But I came for a bath..." she smiled.
A few moments passed before Bobbi wrapped her head around what she said. "Oh really? That's different! Totally different!" She turned to Tracker, feigning excitement. "Tracker, show her the baths! I honestly had no idea!"
"You'll show me?" The girl looked dubiously at Tracker as he came closer.
"Of course! Tracker, here, he's in charge of the baths. He'll take good care of you..."
As Tracker led her to the back of the warehouse, the Cyclones snickered.
##
AK: Okay, I'm retconning my Batgirl stories for this new storyline. It's kind of sacrilegious to have a super-powered Batgirl. R&R