JULY 23
In, hold... hold... hold... out.
Repeat.
Steady on the trigger. No jerk shots, no accidents, no problem.
Keep the target in sight. Mind the guards. No enemy snipers. Perfect.
Clear firing lane... Minimal wind... And-
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, girlie." She sighs. Of course.
The cool metal of a pistol pressed to the back of her skull while her right hand holds the trigger of a suppressed Remington 700 rifle. She slowly raises it away and brings both hands above her head in the position of surrendering.
The pistol is slowly removed, and she rolls slowly over. Some of Penguin's thugs had anticipated her being here, apparently. Lucky bastards, she thought, or... they were tipped off.
"You got me, fellas," she drawled, looking down the business end of a Beretta M9A1. The gunman sneered at her, gesturing up. He holds her by the edge of the roof, grabbing her by her slightly overly thin waist, growling, "Any last words, bitch?"
She pretends to think about it for a moment before shaking her head. She hears a few chuckles as she's pushed to the very edge.
About a hundred feet between her and the ground. No biggie to her.
"Was not a pleasure to know you, not-so-gentle-gentlemen," she calls over her shoulder as she steps off. The henchmen stare dumbfounded.
"Did she just ser-" began one, before the windows in front of them shattered. In the place where a frail girl with a backpack and dirty clothes just walked off a building stood a fully armored figure kneeling down.
"What the fu- KILL IT!" shouted the leader, emptying his magazine into the figure.
A brute with a machine gun- yes, machine gun, not a minigun, as he would prefer his arms not broken- proceeded to empty his drum into the figure. As the smoke from constant gunfire settled, a new guy asked, "Is it- Is it dead?"
To answer, two glowing blue lights shone from the smoke. And said new guy was dragged into the smoke, screaming, before a sickening crunch silenced him.
The smoke cleared, and the armored girl was finishing reloading his M4A1, before glancing up.
"Save a spot in Hell for me," the girl said, voice modulator altering her voice to a deeper and creepy tone. She proceeded to shoot each henchman twice in the chest, and one in the head.
A dozen dead bodies lied facedown; face up, or faceless around her. She turned around, spotting her quarry begin to close shop.
"Not today, bud," she growled. She stepped outside, firing a grappling gun up and pulling herself to the rooftop of the skyscraper. She had about two hundred feet between her and the unfinished building where her target was located. Add a one hundred twenty two foot gap to that, and you have an interesting equation.
She slung her appropriated rifle, checked her Glock 37 handguns strapped to each thigh, and backed up, and ran towards the roof. She jumped.
Kicking off from the slight edge of the roof gave her an extra boost, as she landed right between the thugs and the exit. She shouldered her rifle, aiming right at her target.
"PETER JOHNSON," she roared, putting the red dot of her scope right between his lungs, "YOU HAVE A PRICE ON YOUR HEAD!" At this, the man paled, further contrasting his skin from his dark brown hair.
"I'M HERE TO COLLECT IT," she continued, shoving a high explosive round into the mounted M203 grenade launcher. "AND THIS HUNTER HAS NEVER FAILED TO COLLECT!" She backed up so she was perfectly distance at 30 meters, giving the grenade round a few extra meters to arm itself. "TELL DADDY SATAN THAT THE SIREN SENDS HER REGARDS!" she finished.
A quick pull of the trigger, and a 40mm grenade round exploded right in the middle of his abdomen. He didn't even get the chance to scream as the grenade ripped his body into several hundred thousand million itty bitty pieces of gore. As well as the bodies of everyone standing within a fifteen meter radius of him.
The remaining half dozen or so guards desperately shot at her to no avail. She dropped each of them with five rounds to the chest. She tossed down her borrowed rifle and proceeded to make her mark. As she passed by their cargo, she got curious.
She pried open a crate, and inside was the typical arms you'd expect Cobblepot to be smuggling. Underneath, however, laid a hidden compartment. She ripped it open, revealing something she didn't recognize at first glance. A vial containing a substance that glowed orange, slightly.
She carefully opened it, and dropped a bit onto her palm for her suit to analyze. As the chemical analysis ran, she sat down at the laptop left open and browsed their files. A frequent folder name usually had the letters "AK" followed by things like "_WEAPONREQUSITIONS", "_ARMSMANUFACTURERS", and "_DRONESHIPMENTS".
"What is 'AK'?" Siren mumbled to herself, searching further into the files. She pulled up a picture of a man with a blue helmet with pointy ears on top, seemingly Russian-styled red and black camouflage cargo pants and a TRUSPEC-esque shirt, with armor plates covering nearly every inch of his body, similar to her own suit and the Bat's.
The most intriguing detail was the insignia of Arkham Asylum emblazoned in pure white on his chest, whereas the Batman had his signature black bat symbol. She looked at the picture name, staring at it.
"Who the hell is the Arkham Knight?" she exclaimed. Hearing the telltale swish of a cape, she downloaded all the files for later study and corrupted the computer, placing a grenade in the cargo, as well. As the heavy yet silent footfalls came closer, she ran off the building, landing on a Parks Department truck carrying cut down branches and trees.
She watched the explosion from a distance, hoping she didn't kill the vile city's only capable protector. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't want crime to spiral out of control and run rampant. She just got paid from one gang to wipe out part of another. It was her own way of protecting Gotham. Her own way to save her home.
As the truck huffed along, the girl collapsed, deciding a quick power nap was due. She has a fairly tall stature for a girl of her suspected age of 15- 5'8. Her lanky build belied the hard muscles and scars that lay under her armor. She woke up at a timer set into her HUD and hopped off as the truck crossed ends of Founders' Island and over to Miaganni.
She made her way to Hells' Gate and did the special knock on the lawyer side of the establishment. The door opened and she walked in, making her way automatically to the back and into the basement.
Once below, she proceeded to make her way to the poor girl who was the accountant for Two-Face's gang. She sat down on the messy desk, looking at the frantically working girl, whose name is Helena, waiting for her to be noticed. She looked around, watching several of the men get into a fistfight, that was only broken up by the embodiment of split personality disorder himself walking by, flipping the dreaded coin.
He noticed her with his good eye, nodding her way. She did a small two fingered salute back. They may not see eye to eye... to eye... but he respected her skills and determination, and she his mostly unbiased judgement. It was, in a way, fair, but she didn't always agree with it. She supposed Dent kept the "other Dent" in check this way, however.
After completing a count of the latest bank heist, Helena finally noticed her.
"Oh! Um, Siren didn't see you there. What contract are you, uhh, collecting, ma'am, Siren, ma'am?" stammered out the poor thing.
"Johnson, Helena, Peter Johnson," she replied, giving a small smile under the mask. She liked to imagine herself as Helena's best client.
"Ok, umm... That's one... two... four... eight... twelve hundred dollars, here," Helena handed her a large envelope filled with cash. Siren grabbed it, offering her thanks, before heading out.
Once at her small little apartment at Kingston, she opened up her laptop and began decrypting Penguin's files. Taking off the upper half of her suit, Siren grabbed a slice of still warm pizza from earlier today, and wolfed it down.
Then proceeding to lie on her couch with a decent sized assault ruck at her feet, she turned on the modestly sized TV and went to the movie channels list. She decided on The Amazing Spider-Man for the sheer fact of her childhood obsession with the web-slinging vigilante.
She grunted as a small weight applied itself to her stomach. She looked down to see her adorably small cat, Brownie, lying down on her belly. Deciding it wasn't good enough, Brownie made his way up to her arms and nestled himself in the crook of one.
"You attention whore, you," she muttered, stroking the kitten's fur. Eventually falling to sleep, she dreamt of having a normal childhood anywhere else but Gotham.
When she awoke, she tried to open her eyes but couldn't, due to a still mewling kitten splay himself across her face. She sighed, plucking him off her eyes, standing, and placing him atop her head.
After a dull clean up, she checked her laptop on the decryption of the files, and seeing it was completed, made food for herself and Brownie, before setting them up at the small table. Brownie ate his cat food next to her laptop, while she munched on a buttered bagel.
Seeing most files were about this "Arkham Knight" again, she browsed until one made her blood run cold.
"GOTHAM_INVASION"
"STAGG_CLOUDBURST"
"SCARECROW_GAS_FORMULA"
"AK_KILL_THE_BAT"
Stroking Brownie a bit tenser now, she muttered, "This isn't looking good, baby." She minimized those files to check on the chemical analysis she found.
It was a prototype version of Scarecrow's new fear gas, it looked like- emphasis on prototype. Running a simulation, injection through needle would work, though in gas form the toxin would only serve to disable key organs and the immune system. Not exactly the type of fear Scarecrow was into.
Checking the time, and finding it to be a suitable time of 9 PM, she saved all these files to a flash drive, and donned her suit. Crouching on the edge of her fire escape, she glanced up to see the bright white light in the sky above GCPD HQ.
"Perfect night for a Bat hunt," she said to herself. She raised her wrist, and a gauntlet mounted grappling line fired, throwing her up into the air. Settling down on Grand Avenue Station, she saw the black and red clad dynamic duo sneak into Bruce Wayne's office at Wayne Tower.
Here's to hoping the other one trusts me, Siren thought. On that happy note, she swung over to the business headquarters of the richest man in Gotham.
MEANWHILE, INSIDE THE OFFICE OF BRUCE WAYNE
"Identity confirmed. Good evening, Mr. Wayne," the Batcomputer rang out. While Batman was busy utilizing the WayneTech satellites to search for this mystery smuggling ring that had cropped up suddenly, Robin made his way over to the bust of Thomas Wayne. Lifting the head up to access the retinal scanner, he stood back to allow it to scan completely.
"Identity confirmed. Good evening, Robin," the Batcomputer repeated. Out of the floor rose two Batpods, one containing an extra Batsuit, the other numerous gadgets.
"I do love these toys, Batman," Robin grinned, picking up a capsule of explosive gel. Stuffing that and a two dozen collapsed Bat-a-rangs into his belt; he turned towards the older hero who was typing furiously away at the computer.
He walked over to him, leaning over his shoulder. Furrowing his brow, he realized Batman was tracing locations all the drops had been made at. As he opened his mouth to say something, a voice cut him off.
"Don't waste your time, Bats. Got it on flash drive," a warbled female voice said. Without even looking up, Batman caught said device and slid it into a port on his computer, uploading and decrypting the files almost instantaneously.
Not recognizing the voice, Robin sprang up, staff in one hand, and a bird-a-rang leaving the other. When he finally saw his apparent opponent, he was shocked, to say the least.
A metal helmet encasing her entire head was the first notable feature, along with the pointed ear-like parts of it, and the glowing blue eye slits. A multi-plate chest piece, complete with plates going from her slight shoulders down to gauntlet-donned hands (complete with talons), adorned her torso. The dark red bat symbol on it was intriguing. Greaves went down to the knees, where the armor smoothly transitioned into a pair of what amounted to armored combat boots. All of which, with the exception of the bat symbol, were painted black. Kind of like another costume worn by a girl he knows...
Oh, and she caught his bird-a-rang between some of the aforementioned talons, too.
So caught up in his musing, he slipped out, "Babs?"
Upon the name being uttered, every person in the room stiffened. Slowly, the unnamed figure reached behind her and clicked something, causing the helmet to detach in places, and resulted in the girl slipping it off her head.
Tanned skin was revealed, along with soft, silky black hair done in a pixie cut, the tips of which were dyed a bright blue. Green eyes bore into his masked ones.
"Not Babs," she whispered, holding her helmet by her side.
The first thing that he pieced together was the eyes and hair. He definitely knew where he saw that before. The tanned skin, slightly broad jaw, the height, posture... She looked exactly like a mix of Selina Kyle and the pictures he'd seen of Bruce's mother.
His head snapped back to his mentor, now unmasked, giving a small smile to the girl. She glanced at him and smiled in reply.
The quiet reverie was broken by the Batcomputer saying, "Encryption detected. Retinal scan required."
At this, the girl smoothly walked over to the desk and sat herself down on Batman's lap, ignoring the slight "Oof" he made when she plopped down. She held her head in front of the retinal scanner, allowing it to activate and scan.
As the red "AUHTORIZATION REQUIRED" turned into a green "AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED", the female synthesized voice damn near put Tim in a shock-induced coma with what she said next.
"Identity confirmed. Good evening, Miss Kristen Wayne."
After the computer finished, Kristen looked up and smiled at Tim... Before proceeding to throw his tool right back into his barely intercepting hand.
He glared at her, beginning, "You little bi-"
Only to be cut off by the famous Batglare. He gulped. Only this time it wasn't on Bruce's face. It was on hers.
"Be prepared for anything. Isn't that what Dad taught you?" she growled, before a cold, "Kristen," from Bruce made her sigh. Looking up at her father, they had a silent conversation.
Turning back to Tim, she rolled her eyes, droning, "Blah blah, I'm Kristen, blah blah, nice to meet you." Tim scoffed- this was supposed to be Bruce's daughter?
"Robin," Bruce- no, back to Batman- said, drawing said boy's attention. "This is Kristen. She'll be joining us from now on," he continued, causing the girl to stare up at him wide-eyed.
"What should I call her in the field, then? Batbaby?" Robin sneered. The girl looked downright murderous, and her right hand was slipping to a .45 caliber pistol he kind of only just noticed. Gulp.
"No," Batman barked, before taking a breath. "You're already familiar with the name," he paused here. "Robin, meet your new companion." Robin sucked in a gasp, already knowing what was coming.
"Meet Batgirl." Once again, green eyes bore into his own, as if trying to drag up whatever ate at his soul at the moment.
"Pleasure to meet you, Boy Wonder," now-Batgirl said in a fake high pitch voice. "Though I must ask, where's the fish-scale boxers and Robin Hood shoes? You're also kind of lacking hair... a lot of it," she finished off with a sneer of her own.
Robin grit his teeth. This is going to be a long night, he thought to himself. No such thoughts flew around Batgirl's mind. She was more preoccupied of how easy it is to trigger the poor bastard. I got plans for you, Boy Wonder, Batgirl thought, grinning internally.
