A long time ago.
The clickety-clack noise of a keyboard filled the second floor of a small cottage in the middle of Manchester at South Holden St. along newscaster Rodriguez's (*) voice from WGTM radio channel.
Latest news about a hostage situation 'burst in,' or would have because the man's speech lacked the ups and downs to keep the listeners on the edge of their seats as he blurted the information, failing to spot the headlines more than a blind man to see.
Yes, Rodriguez was struggling to perform the job of his namesake predecessor but he had something good after all: he wasn't her father.
Arthur's shadow was hard to overcome. Not only his mild-mannered charming voice still clawed to Stephanie's mind but to her mother's as well, uttering threats that they knew very well he would fulfill. Sharp and canny and Godlike. He had still so much control over them…
If only he had chosen to abide awhile.
Stephanie shook her head at the thought. It was no news that apples seldom fall far from the tree but she was committed to become the exception and not the norm.
All her life revolved around him yet she defied the odds and changed everything. Never fell prey of delinquency, idleness, or hopelessness. Chin up, hands busy. She took care of the house, her mother, and she herself. Learned how to from a young age, and she was doing just fine until Warden Grey put her life upside down with a phone call.
The blonde deeply wished she hadn't pick it up -it was a childish habit of her developed when she was no higher than a hound dog's tail on point- but desires never came easily to her. Nothin' ever really did. And when Blackgate Penitentiary informed her about her father's status as a free man, well… she hid it from her mother.
If the news had made her blood boil and her stomach shrink, what would have done to Crystal?
She didn't want to find it out, nor wanted to risk her mother's progress either. The woman wasn't a hundred percent recovered. Getting back the control of her previous life was something Stephanie didn't hope could work but Crystal proved her otherwise.
Bellingers… stubborn and strong-willed when in the right company.
Her cheesy essay from school about Heroes could be about the woman if she wouldn't have needed help half the time. Gee, Steph could have done it in the blink of an eye actually, but those in need weren't 'remarkable figures' or 'inspiring people' at all, were they? If something, they were the living reminder of how bad things could end when going astray.
So, no way! Heroes outside oneself were like a fairy tale. They aren't real. And knowing that fueled her anger.
The little girl felt like a fool. Chagrin eating her from the very thoughts and though the feeling didn't come exactly from her homework, it sure fed the bitter emotion, vexing her to the limit because there was no Hero in her life.
Not a single one that truly cares about me with no strings attached.
She breathed deeply, leaning back in her chair, eyes scanning the poster in front of her.
Since when did she develop such a need for a Hero? Since when were they so important if she'd never met one in person? Why the anger? Why bother at all?
She slapped herself from the ideas -literally. Bright red marks became visible on her face and she was about to return to her homework when Rodriguez demanded her full attention.
"Some witnesses claim to have seen the Batman on the scene-" the emphasis on the self-proclaimed protector of the night made her turn toward the radio as Rodriguez' enthusiasm spread through his announce.
A few minutes had passed and she kept listening, her chair had traveled near the 90's boombox and her hand rested over the volume control.
She did that sometimes when the Batman was mentioned. The clipboard behind her collected all the cases that involved him and the Cluemaster; all the times he had 'saved' her in some way. And though she never struck herself as a fan of the Bat -no one in her family did- she appreciated his doing. She really did, but she also was curious about the figure itself and wondered what happened to the man beneath the suit; what motivated him to put his life at risk every night; or if he really was one of the good guys to begin with.
Stephanie wanted to know if the gig was part of his penance, or if the man was even human. And so the questions heaped up unanswered in the back of her head, burning deep into her brain when the former District Attorney distracted her from making new ones by yelling loudly through the speakers.
"Gotham is drowning in a cesspool of crime!" he roared in a way that showed his visceral hate. "It's this city's shame that a phenomenon like the Batman has arisen. It's not up to some masked vigilante to–"
And she didn't let him finish. The blonde turned off the radio. Armand Kroll was a bush-league pretentious candidate for Mayor that ran his mouth aware of the weight of his words and full of himself. He spat sentences like sharp knives, criticizing the only ones who tried to guarantee people's safety, and for what?
Complaining politicians sure could move crowds but they never got drag into real action. Those cowards in suits never move a finger to stop crime. They just tore other's efforts to gain votes and supporters.
She didn't like them, nor did she stand to their vitriolic discourse for Steph was a girl with a lot of brass in her pants and an indomitable will and…
Something was brewing inside her; something that only she could do.
Why seek for a Hero outside when I can be my own Hero, like the Batman himself?
A/N
(1) Newscaster Rodríguez is Arturo Rodríguez, the one and only. If you'd read about War Crimes, this little guy has a 'big' role during Black Mask's storyline. Don't want to spoil things for you so I'll say I'm introducing him first to add a little background to his persona.
(･θ･) Detective Comics #647